The Master (2012)
VERDICT:
5/10 American Animals
Where in the hell to begin?
The Master is about an alcoholic Navy vet with a one-track mind that’s not “all there.” He drifts through life alone, from one girl and one odd job to another, inevitably finding himself back at square one as his crazed nature gets the best of him. Then one fateful day, he finds himself on a boat that’s home to a man of many hats. In this man, the drifter finds an admirer, and in the drifter, this man finds his muse. In return for the drifter’s company and in the hopes of finding a cure for the drifter’s wicked ways, his admirer welcomes him into The Cause: an alternative faith movement that, to some, borders on cult. As the drifter cozies up to his new friend and spiritual leader, he comes to find meaning in his life and struggles to keep it as his faith is tested by those around him.
Like every Paul Thomas Anderson movie, there’s a lot of stuff here to talk about, and a lot of which is hard to articulate. Man, I’m still not really sure how I got my friend and wife to go see this with me, especially considering the garbage-grade synopsis I gave them. Something about how Philip Seymour Hoffman’s this L. Ron Hubbard figure, that Joaquin Phoenix is River Phoenix’s bother, then circled the conversation back that things about Tom Cruise shopping for girlfriends before anyone could veto my plans and make a push for Dredd. Anyway, the point of this little digression is that even having seen the movie and given it my full, undivided attention, I’m still not quite sure what it’s about. I speak for all of us.
Now, I don’t know if Anderson has gone on record about this yet, but the Scientology undertones are most definitely here for the reading int0. Philip Seymour Hoffman’s character, Lancaster Dodd, is a charismatic guy who writes a borderline sci-fi book about how to cure oneself through time travel, a whole lot of people end up drinking the Kool-Aid, and before he knows it, he’s a goddamn messiah. Sounds familiar, and aside from the appeal of Anderson and his cast, I feel like this is the one aspect of this story that’s putting asses in seats. But despite its pertinence, that’s not what it’s about.
If anything (and this is one man’s murky opinion), it similar to what There Will Be Blood was about (also one man’s murky opinion): two individuals from different walks of life in their struggle to gain something from one another. For Lancaster Dodd, it’s a confirmation of his life’s work, his credibility in the face of intense skepticism. For Joaquin Phoenix’s character, Freddie Quell, it’s a sense of belonging, of purpose in a world where he can’t seem to find one. It’s an interesting dynamic, more so because of the actors behind them than their actual wants and desires. At least it makes more sense than the whole religion vs. capitalism thing going on in There Will Be Blood. Am I the only one who never really thought those two things were ever at odds with one another?
Anyway, I understand why these two gravitate toward each other, even need each other at times, I just never really understood what I was supposed to get out if it. Hopefully that makes sense. If not, let’s just say that their relationship simply didn’t connect with me in ways I was hoping it eventually would. They got somewhere quick, settle down in nowhere at the next exit, even with everything that happens over the next 90 minutes.
To give you a better idea of what I’m after, before I saw this I kept on hearing a lot of Tree of Life comparisons in regards to the kind of viewing experience I was setting myself up for. In case that sentence just instantly turned you off from seeing this, don’t worry, the dinosaurs are gone now. But given how a lot of these post-movie conversations are undoubtedly going to play out, it’s actually a warranted comparison. Some people are gonna walk out of the theater in silent contemplation, think about it long and hard, then talk for hours about its deeper meanings with their open-minded, tweed-wearing friends. Others will walk out of the theater at a loss to explain their frustration, double-check their watch to make sure it wasn’t three hours that just went by, and then kick themselves for letting their friend talk them out of Dredd. While I do eventually plan on talking about this movie ’til I’m blue in the face, I admit that I was very much a member of The What-The-Hell-Was-That Club.
And it’s a weird movie. For anyone who’s seen Punch-Drunk Love, this shouldn’t come as much of a surprise, although as someone who adores Punch-Drunk Love for all its quirks and oddities, this here is a little much. If I were into the spoiler game, I would be more than happy to run down a list of scenes that nearly made my friends and I laugh out loud from how bizarre and random they were, but that’s what the Comments section’s for. Granted, one could argue that the odd nature of these scenes do fit quite nicely into the truly odd nature of The Cause, but the intended effect never quite hit the mark for me.
But by the same token, just because it’s weird and just because I didn’t “get it” doesn’t mean it isn’t worth seeing for yourself. The fact is, it’s got merits coming out of its ears. There’s an incredible degree of intention in the way Anderson tells and structures this story, there are extraordinarily gripping scenes peppered throughout, and this might be the best performance of Joaquin Phoenix’s career. From the way he contorts his face and he carries himself like a modern-day Igor, to his perpetually destructive behavior that leaves just enough room for self-preservation, you’ll hardly even recognize the guy. Dude was effing phenomenal in Two Lovers, but this is something else. More an outright transformation than a performance, really.
Philip Seymour Hoffman also commands the screen as per usual, but something about him just seemed too “on” to me. See, there is no one, absolutely no one, who knows how to yell at people the way Philip Seymour Hoffman yells at people. Not a guy you want to piss off, not if you don’t want crap in your pants. But as great as he is here, I could have done without him yelling as much as he does. Not like he’s channeling Sam Jackson or anything, it’s just hard to take anyone seriously when they scream “PIG FUCK!” at a guy after chastising him with their indoor voice for five minutes. Doesn’t really matters in grand scheme of things, but let’s just say I was far more partial to the way Joaquin handled his outbursts.
Folks, there is very much a part of me that wants to dive back into this movie to see what else I can dig up, but it pales in comparison to the part of me that wants just continue on with my life and settle with hearing what everyone else has to say. Simply put, once was enough. I’m all for movies that leave things open-ended rather than wrap it all up with a cherry on top, but this felt open-ended to a fault. Like I said, there are some great scenes here that come across as real turning points for Dodd and Quell, scenes of rage and vulnerability that make us want to commit to them. But from where I was sitting, their development as both individuals and partners never really progressed past those moments into something more full-fledged.
I know I’ve written a lot here, and while I’m still sure about how much I’ve actually said, I guess that’s kind of the point of all this rambling. With Phoenix’s performance aside, the lasting effect of The Master is that it’s a movie that begs discussion. On just one viewing, it is not an easy experience to unravel or understand. Having thought about it for days now, I’m still having trouble with what it was trying to say, what I was supposed to take away from it, and how I feel about in general. That Verdict is as subjective as they come, and glad as I am to be moving onto movies that won’t give me migraines, don’t let that deter you from trying it out for yourself and drawing your own conclusions. In the moment, it was somewhat frustrating, but in hindsight, that’s actually something I admire about it.
Something tells me that, despite my best efforts, I’m still gonna be talking about this a year from now, and just like with The Tree of Life, I will probably end up hating it for that very reason. No bueno whatsoever, but good gravy, do I hope humanity proves me wrong.
He Speaks!
Well, folks, after three years of straight-up writing about movies like the old fart I am, I’m happy to announce that I’ve jumped on the bandwagon and finally started a podcast. Better late than never, right?
The name of the podcast is Best Movie Ever. The hosts are yours truly and my good friend Sean: a movie nerd of the highest order who’s even got a review column of his own. The idea is to talk about the best movies ever across different genres and categories, then bring other guys and gals into the conversation so it’s not just us putzing around like doofuses (doofi?) for an hour.
Anyway, I’m super proud of it and I’d love you forever if you clicked on that banner up there and gave our first episode a listen. If that doesn’t jive with the boss, no worries whatsoever, but you should tell that fool to shove it. At any rate, check back each Monday for each new episode that I’ll be putting on blast. And until then, thanks for listening! You guys are alright.
The Pirates! Band of Misfits (2012)
VERDICT:
7/10 Booty Trapps
Not the best thing Aardman’s done, but, shucks, if it isn’t charming.
The Pirates! Band of Misfits is about a pirate captain named Pirate Captain who leads a merry crew of scallywags across the seas of 1837. Now, 1837 is shaping up to be a big year for Pirate Captain, because this is the year that he’s planning on nabbing the Pirate of the Year award after a lifetime of getting snubbed. So with the competition stiff and the bar raised high, he sets sail, plunders away, and comes out empty-handed each time. That is until his travels lead him to one Charles Darwin who informs Pirate Captain that his prize parrot Polly is in fact the last living Dodo bird in existence. Seeing his chance for overnight fame and riches, Pirate Captain takes Polly to win the Scientist of the Year competition in London – home of Queen Victoria: #1 pirate-hater in all the land. But as Pirate Captain comes to find out, sometimes sure things just aren’t what they seem and there’s more to being a good pirate captain than just mountains and mountains of booty.
I really don’t use “booty” enough in these reviews. Thank you, Pirates! Band of Misfits.
So it’s not often that I have the pleasure of seeing two claymation movies over the course of one month, let alone one year. Not that I’m terribly bummed about the lack of claymation in the world today, but still, the medium’s done me right over the years and it’s nice to step back from all this CG malarkey once in a while. Anyhow, if you’d asked me back in January about which claymation sensation would come out on top – The Pirates! or ParaNorman – I wouldn’t have hesitated to bet the farm on the former. The trailer was hilarious, it’s the latest from Aardman Animations, what else did I need to know?
Kids, if something in life has even the remotest connection with Wallace & Gromit, you side with whatever that thing is. Write that one down.
But as you may have already heard, ParaNorman ended up knocking my bloomers off. The story, the art direction, the characters, the models, the voice actors, the animation, the score – all of it was just astounding. You get the idea, go see ParaNorman. And needless to say, I’m thanking my lucky stars you didn’t ask me anything back in January ’cause that farm of mine would be gettin’ repoed. Yes, it was a great movie, and, yes, Pirates! is ultimately the inferior of the two, but at the end of the day, the comparison’s apples and oranges.
The fact of the matter is that The Pirates! isn’t worse off because of how good ParaNorman is, at least for me it wasn’t. Rather, it just makes ParaNorman’s strengths just shine that much brighter. The issue at hand stems more from the knowledge of what Aardman is capable of producing and this not being of the same standard as, say, Chicken Run. I’ve always thought of Aardman as the Pixar of the claymation world, and that’s not just talking ’bout the visuals. These guys and gals know how to tell a story, tell it incredibly well, and play to an audience regardless of their ages. Not to say that this is better for kids than adults or vice versa, but the most glaring example of why this isn’t on par is the writing.
Now that I think about it, a lot of the complaints I have about Pirate Captain are a lot of the same traits that make Wallace so endearing. He’s good-natured, he’s flighty, and a lot of what he does is done without thinking. Perhaps it’s because he doesn’t have that same rapport with his right-hand man, The Pirate with a Scarf, that Wallace has with Gromit, but despite his more amusing qualities, Pirate Captain’s a pretty frustrating dude to watch. In a nutshell, the whole plot is led around by Pirate Captain as he continually ignores his companion’s better judgment so that he can keep making one hair-brained decision after another. The formula certainly serves its purpose, but it does get old and it’s a pretty cheap way to go from scene to scene. Far more aggravating than it should be, especially for this kind of movie.
However, there is an upside. All those crazy antics that Pirate Captain gets into? About half of them are legitimately funny! Who knew pirates had such a penchant for ham, and how often do you see PG movies taking jabs at The Elephant Man? When this thing hits its stride, it’s a straight-up blast. But alas, there’s still that other half to consider, which brings us to yet another downside of The Pirates! From start to finish, the laughs are very hit-and-miss. Whether it’s way too on-the-nose, plain old unfunny, or doesn’t know when to let a good thing die, with each new gag that landed, rest assured there was a dud waiting right around the corner to balance things out. It’s never laugh-out-loud funny to begin with, but no one wants to see a comedian bomb for half the time they’re on stage.
It’s not bad writing by any means, it’s just spotty. The story’s enjoyable for what it is and it’s really entertaining when the pirates are all together. Plus, it looks great. The animation is top-notch, it looks like an Aardman movie, and I still can’t get over Pirate Captain’s beard. Killer curls, man. Not to mention that it’s got a stellar cast of voice actors going for it. Ever since About a Boy, I’ve been a total sucker for Hugh Grant, and he brings a whole lot of personality and character to Pirate Captain. Also a bunch of folks from the Harry Potter movies here, which is neat.
Oh, and Al Roker’s in it. Not really sure what to make of that.
Alright, hopefully I haven’t been too overly-critical here, because as I read this all over again, I kind of feel like an ass for giving it such a thorough rundown. The Pirates! Band of Misfits may not be the best example of what the Aardman gang is capable of and it’s one of those rare movies that actually doesn’t live up to the promise of its trailer, but what matters is that it’s fun. I had a good time, and despite all my rambling, its faults are more than easy to overlook. Could have used some fine-tuning and there’s not much going on beneath the surface, but hey, it deserves the 7 it got.
And any movie that’s got The English Beat and Flight of the Conchords on its soundtrack is a movie I’ll happily endorse.
And the best villain from a Stephen King movie is…
JACK TORRANCE!
Holy crap was that a tight race. Can’t say I’m surprised by the winner, but there were some awfully choice candidates in the running.
At any rate, swell voting, folks! No one sucks at parenting quite like good ol’ Jack Torrance.
RESULTS:
– Wacko Jacko: 14 votes
– Pennywise: 13 votes (that whole evil clown thing really messed people up, huh?)
– Annie Wilkes: 12 votes
– Ace: 6 votes (much love for Ace)
– Warden Norton: 6 votes
– Cujo: 4 votes
– Killian: 3 votes
– Christine: 2 votes
– Percy: 2 votes (wildly under-appreciated villain)
– Greg Stillson: 1 vote (everyone forgets about Greg Stillson…)
– Mrs. White: 1 vote (shocked by the lack of love for Mrs. White)
– Other: 1 vote for Randall Flagg and 1 vote for The Man in Black (have either of them ever been in a
The Snowtown Murders (2012)
VERDICT:
7/10 Apt Pupils
I need a hug.
The Snowtown Murders is about a young man growing up on the wrong side of town in Australia. As if things weren’t bad enough already, they took a sharp turn for the worse when his mother’s boyfriend/next-door neighbor takes it upon himself to molest this young man and his little brothers. Eventually his mom finds out about it, the neighbor goes to jail, and within days, the neighbor’s back in his house on bail. Enter John: a passionate individual with a hatred for child molesters who in turn becomes a role model for our impressionable young man. Together, they make life a living hell for the pederast across the street, so much so that he up and moves away. With that battle won, they proceed to exact their vigilante justice on the rest of the NAMBLA members in town because the authorities won’t lift a finger. But then things start to escalate, and before he knows it, the young man finds himself an accessory to a serial killer.
Unfortunately, this is all based on the all-too-true story of John Bunting and Jamie Vlassakis. For those not familiar with life Down Under, John Bunting was convicted of murdering 11 people in the late ’90s with the help of Vlassakis, and when they were finally caught, it won them two much-deserved life sentences. And since Australia’s no US of A when it comes to psychopaths and killing sprees, Bunting is generally regarded as the worst serial killer in the country’s history. As you can imagine, this is all makes for a very cheery two hours. However, it’s a morbidly compelling two hours at that.
The best way to sum up how this manages to be so very good while being so very devastating is that it’s meticulous to a tee. An admittedly ingenious way to tackle the subject matter given the types of people this story revolves around. There’s not a lot of dialogue, the plot takes its time, and as the story continues to develop, it does so through implication. During what may have been the worst date night of the new Willennium, there were a bunch of times when my wife and I had to double-check with each other over what was going on, what just happened, and who’s that person/where did they come from? A bit hard to follow at times if you’re not picking up the cues, although by no means is that a detractor from the experience. In fact, it only serves to heighten the unspoken and unseen dread that lurks behind everyone and everything involved.
As is true with any horror movie (which this totally qualifies as at times), the mere suggestion that evil things are afoot is so much more powerful than outright showing them. Although when that evil starts appearing, it lives up to its jaw-dropping reputation.
Take Daniel Henshall as John Bunting for instance. Everything I just said about the way Kerzel tells this story is mirrored in the way Hanshall owns his role. When we first meet Bunting, he’s as unassuming as they come: a congenial fellow with a winning smile who dresses like a teenager and often behaves like one, too. He’s also the only semi-positive male figure in Jamie’s life and it’s easy to see why the latter would nestle under his wing at the first invitation. Still, you don’t expect him to stick around. As far as first impressions go, he’s the kind of guy who’d make a great side character, not the guy you’d expect front and center.
But then he becomes a fixture in Jamie’s life. They drive out the pederast together, he shacks up with Jamie’s mom, he treats the kid like an equal and invites him to partake in his sordid world views. That’s when you realize that John’s around for the long haul, and the more that he speaks his mind, the more you fear for those around him. Whenever there’s an ear to listen, he’s on the soapbox spewing hate like it’s scripture. Folks, it’s unsettling enough listening to an ignoramus rant about how someone deserves to die, but it’s something else entirely when you believe they’d carry it out.
Daniel Henshall is the reason I was this close to giving The Snowtown Murders an 8, despite it being hands-down the most depressing movie I’ve seen since Melancholia. He is utterly convincing from start to finish, and given the changes that take place, that’s saying a lot. It just gets worse and worse as his motives wane from a warped-yet-cogent bigotry towards gays and pedophiles, to straight up bloodthirsty as he sets his sights on anything moving. He is manipulative, he is intense, he is absolutely terrifying in ways you might not be able to watch. Much like the movie itself, the dude just gets in your head.
Nor does it hurt that it’s one of the best performances I’ve seen all year.
But the thing that makes this such a monster is that it’s more than just a display of human brutality, it’s an insight into human vulnerability. Right from the start, you don’t need it spelled out to see that life is pretty grim for Jamie and his family. He seems to live in a world where the forecast is an 85% chance of misery, seven days a week, and everything from the houses to its residents reflect that sentiment as well. Plus the molestations, plus having the worst older brother in the world, and you’ve got Jamie Vlassaki’s tragic young life. This is a kid who deserves an invite to Wonka’s factory so he and his grandpa live in a glass elevator for the rest of their happy days. But that’s not the card he was dealt. Instead, fate saw fit to give him Snowtown.
This is a very hard movie to watch on a purely visceral level, but it’s even harder to watch this tortured kid offer himself up so willingly and helplessly as prey. With Jamie and his brothers, you just get the sense that they don’t know any better. That, and/or they’ve just had it so bad for so long that eventually it became the norm. I wish I could say that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel here, but we are fresh out of happy endings. And it’s such a striking contrast given how gorgeous some of the cinematography is and how intentionally this movie is structured. I mean, the upside is that it ends up being a far cry from the likes of Hostel; whilethe downside is that, well, Jamie Vlassakis is real.
And on that note, it’s awfully surprising to me that this movie ever got green-lit in the first place. When you’re dealing with the actions of real-life serial killers, you’re also dealing with the memories of their real-life victims. There’s good reason why they’ll never make biopics for Charlie Manson or Jeffrey Dahmer, so I can’t help but wonder how they got away with making one for Bunting? Granted, the intent here isn’t to exploit the victims as much as it is to analyze their killers, but it’s exploitation all the same. Just can’t help but wonder how I would have taken this had it hit uncomfortably close to home.
So, yeah, something to think about, I guess, and still up in the air about this movie’s existence. But then again, since there’s not much we can do about it, I suppose we’re left with two options: A) Not watch it and move on with our merry lives; or, B) Take it for what it’s worth. And for what it’s worth, The Snowtown Murders is astonishingly effective in its aims. It’s a soul crusher of the highest order, one that’ll leave you genuinely upset for a number of reasons, and even more so since you can’t just write it off as fiction. Probably not much of a selling point to anyone who doesn’t enjoy curling up and dying on movie night, but it’s hard to overlook how well-made and deftly executed it is. This is calculated film making and a calculated character study, and even it is a downer of most devastating proportions, it’s actually worth it.
Don’t say I didn’t warn ya’.
The Raid: Redemption (2012)
VERDICT:
8/10 Blocks Attacked
For everyone who’s ever thought “Not enough action” on the way out.
The Raid: Redemption is about an Indonesian SWAT team that’s tasked with taking out a drug lord by breaking into his highly-fortified holdout. Not ones to mosey, they roll up to the building and make their way in hoping to make this an in-and-out procedure. But when their cover gets blown by some jerk kid with a loud mouth, it doesn’t take long before the bullets start flying. So with their backs against the wall and their numbers dwindling fast, a lone rookie with a kid on the way ends up being the best chance they’ve got of finishing the job and getting out alive.
Usually these synopses are a smidge longer than four sentences, and I think this is the first review in forever that’s clocked in just over 1000 words, but I guess the beauty of this bad boy is that it does most of the talking. See, all action movies have a story (I swear I’m not making that up), and regardless of whether or not that story is actually good, more often than not, the story tends to get in the way of the very thing we all came for in the first place: the action. Well apparently writer/director Gareth Evans was dead tired of that horseshit. Enter The Raid: Redemption: his solution to this constant problem…plus a lot of the other problems that are all too common in action movies today. It’s not quite non-stop ass-kicker that the hype wants me to believe, but when things start raining, good lord, do they pour.
I guess the one thing that’s truly great about The Raid is that those involved have obviously been taking notes over the years. Now, just like any other genre, the double-edged sword of action movies is that every once in a while a gamechanger will come our way, only to make way for a countless number of coattail riders trying to capitalize of its success by doing the same thing only worse. For example: thanks to The Matrix, we’ve been plagued by bullet time. Thanks to Crouching Tiger, we’ve been plagued by wires. Thanks to The Bourne Ultimatum, we’ve been plagued by cameras that move so freaking fast it’s impossible to tell what we’re supposed to be watching. Folks, the epidemic has festered to where you need a goddamn hazmat suit to sit through these movies.
But I guess the upside of having to wade through so many imitators is that they do make the genuine articles stand out. It’s like comparing new school John Woo to old school John Woo. Spoiler alert: old school wins every time.
Anyway, the reason this little ditty is one of those genuine articles is because it doesn’t do any of that crap that was already done well and didn’t bear repeating. Instead, The Raid gets back to basics. This here is a no-frills thrill ride. Little to no special effects (not counting all the bloodletting), only a handful of shootouts, and a downright gaggle of hand-to-hand fight scenes that seem to go on for ages. And what’s interesting about it is that it a lot of these action scenes play out pretty similarly. Good guy gets outnumbered, good guy has to fight his way out using whatever he has at his disposal, and if the good guy wins (which isn’t a guarantee), he moves onto Level 2.
For all intents and purposes, this should get old fast. The reason it never does, not even in the slightest, is due almost entirely to the fight choreography. Apparently it’s all based around an Indonesian martial art called pencak silat, and despite how unintimidating the name is, the shit is no joke and it is super violent to boot. I mean, it’s weird to describe such an epic display of ultraviolence as “awesome,” but when it’s playing out, it’s hard to describe it as anything but. It’s just one insanely inventive action sequence after another that continually amazes without going over the top, and considering some of the flat-out bananas stuff that goes down here, I’d say that’s quite the accomplishment. I don’t know where star/co-choreographer Iko Uwais came from, but the dude is an absolute maniac and Gareth Evans sure knows how to film him.
Love that he always keeps the camera planted square on the action, love the energy in his cinematography that perfectly complements the mayhem he’s capturing. Doesn’t have quite the same knack for writing dialogue, but by the same token, that’s somewhat beside the point. The premise, the story, the characters, and the acting are all just vehicles for the action, and when the action’s this good, the rest can afford to be decent. However, bonus points are in order for the solid score from Mike Shinoda of Linkin Park fame. Probably the best thing that’s been even remotely associated with that band in years.
But there are some discrepancies. The standard-issue SWAT outfits look more trendy than they do practical, the security cameras throughout the building only seem to come in handy when necessary, and it’s a tad hard to believe that a crack house full of crack heads and crack dealers could go toe-to-toe with a team of clean and sober trained professionals that are armed to the effing teeth. Not that it takes away from the experience, it just never hurts to side in the favor of realism. Although I could totally be wrong about that last complaint, ’cause I am totally unaware of what gym class is like in the Indonesian school systems. Something tells me it’s nuts.
After somehow missing it in theaters, I’ve been itching to see The Raid: Redemption for months now. And needless to say, it did not disappoint. I was expecting a rush, and a rush is what I got, but I wasn’t expecting much of a plot, and the plot was actually just right. Had its fair share of unforeseen twists and a body count that rose in ways most movies would opt to avoid. Sure, the writing pales in comparison to everything that works like gangbusters on a purely surface level, but we’re still getting more than we’re used to. At the very least, it’s fun as hell, and that’s exactly what we should come away with. Still wish I’d seen it in a packed theater though. Certainly worked wonders for Kill Bill.
Beats me why they had to add “Redemption” to the title though.
Friends with Kids (2012)
VERDICT:
7/10 New Normals
When Harry knocked up Sally…
Friends with Kids is about a thirtysomething guy and a thirtysomething girl who have been uber-platonic best friends for almost 20 years. They date around (not with each other) and they enjoy their single lives, right up until all their friends start getting hitched and cranking out newborns. The more time they spend with their friends, they come to a realization: boy, it’d be great to have kids, but if only there were away to avoid the hassles of married life. Sex once a month, fighting all the time? No thank you very much. And since 30 is the new 50 (I guess), they come up with a solution before her biological clock gives out: crank out a newborn, raise it together, all while staying uber-platonic best friends. That way they get to keep all the perks of bachelor/bachelorettehood and have a totally awesome kid. Everybody wins, right? Well as smooth as it all goes initially, life starts getting complicated as their Swiss watch of a plan stops being the sure thing they intended it to be.
Shocker.
Not the most realistic or relatable of scenarios I’ve ever come across in a movie, but then again, what do I know? The nuclear family is a thing of the past, and stranger families have been structured. Hell, we live in a world where Junior might as well be a documentary. Nevertheless, if you’ve already guessed how this story plays out, then pat yourself on the back because you, sir or madam, are dead on. They have a kid, everything’s good; they see other people, new emotions start forming; one wants to give it a shot, the other’s not on board; everything’s bad, cue the epiphanies. Sorry if I just spoiled anything, but it’s hard to call ’em spoilers when you already know what’s coming.
Anyway, the interesting thing about this new age love story is that it’s actually been done before, albeit briefly. For those who’ve seen The Big Chill, you probably know what I’m talking about. For those who haven’t, it involves Kevin Kline getting down with his friend Mary Kay Place so she can have herself a baby before her lady parts give out…only this time it’s drawn out to 107 minutes. Far and away the weirdest scene of that movie, and almost 30 years later, it’s still pretty progressive (if that’s even the right word). But the nice thing about Friends with Kids is that writer/director/leading lady Jennifer Westfeldt is on the level. It takes a good deal of convincing to even get our stars on board with the idea, and once they start spreading the good news, everyone thinks they’re nuts. Smart move, Westfeldt, ’cause babies in the friend zone is one of the all-time leaders in terms of stupid-ass ideas.
But the novelty of the premise and the cookie-cutter plot aren’t what make this work. That much is obvious, and at the very least, they serve their purpose. This is one of those movies where most of the fun comes from sitting back and listening. Westfeldt’s a swell actress to begin with, but without a doubt, her strong suit’s behind the camera. She’s got a real knack for writing sharp, witty dialogue and her cast has a real knack for delivering it. On top of that, the editing in this movie is fantastic and does an incredibly effective job of controlling the tone and the tempo throughout. Rare to see editing that has such a strong sense of humor. Really impressive in its own right, outrageously impressive for a rom-com. Had me smiling a whole lot and chuckling right along.
Alright, I’ll shut up about the editing. Let’s move onto the ridiculous cast.
As a diehard fan of Parks and Rec, it’s kind of a rule that I should like Adam Scott. But even if I was a total idiot and wasn’t a fan of the funniest show on TV, it’d be hard to ignore Scott’s inherent likability along with his unusually natural rapport with Westfeldt. The chemistry’s there, they carry the movie handily, and it doesn’t take a stretch of the imagination to picture these two as buds off-camera. Always nice with these kinds of situations.
And then there’s the rest of the gang, which is pretty much the cast of Bridesmaids, minus Melissa McCarthy and plus Megan Fox. Kinda weird seeing Kristen Wiig play against-type for a change, but Chris O’Dowd, Maya Rudolph, and Jon Ham are all here doing what they do best. There’s really not a weak link in the chain, including Megan Fox. The girl holds her own, and more than anything, it’s just nice to see her taking roles like these after being doomed to a life of eye candy for the last five years.
And guess what? Ed Burns is here, too! Totally wasn’t paying attention to the opening credits when his name ran across the screen, so boy was it a nice surprise to see him show up. Nothing all that new for him as far as career choices go, but I like Ed Burns a lot, and I truly don’t get why he doesn’t do more movies. Dude’s the total package and he’s all New York to boot. Man, I’ve got all kinds of time for Ed Burns.
Although if there’s one big gripe that can’t be overlooked, it’s the ending. The last time I saw a movie written by Jennifer Westfeldt was Kissing Jessica Stein, and while that might not have ended on the most organic of notes, it certainly ended with an unforeseen bang. So given the cookie-cutter plot that leads up to the last ten minutes here, I was hoping for the unforeseen. But when the credits started to roll and the first thought that went through my head was, “That’s it?,” it was only then that I realized the bang I was hoping for was just a mere whimper. Very sad. It’s not a bad ending per se, it just didn’t need to tie on the ribbon so neatly.
Friends with Kids was one of those unfortunate movies that’d been collecting dust in its Netflix slip since it came in the mail two months ago. And truth be told, the only reason I watched it was ’cause I couldn’t stand to look at it any more. But having finally gotten around to it, I’m glad that I didn’t take the easy way out by sending it back unwatched. It’s a unique take on a tired formula that benefits greatly from those involved. If it were out to make us believers – the weirdos who aren’t thinking of impregnating our besties – I don’t think it would have gotten too far. Thank heavens that wasn’t the case because the end result was far more enjoyable than I thought it would be. In fact, that’s probably the most unpredictable thing this has going for it. Still not really sure what I was meant to take away from this that I didn’t already learn from Rob Reiner, but for some reason, that’s alright. Good dialogue goes a long way, I guess.
And having just moved out of Manhattan myself to the great green yonder in Vermont, holy crap did this make me homesick. Westfeldt captures the city in a truly gorgeous light, and I was totally unprepared for all the scenes in my old ‘hood. Can hardly blame her though. The Upper West Side’s where it’s at.
Last Days Here (2012)
VERDICT:
8/10 Dying Worlds
Apparently selling your soul to rock & roll has its downsides. Who knew?
Last Days Here is a documentary about one Bobby Liebling: the former front man of a doom metal outfit called Pentagram. See, back in the ’70s, Bobby was the cat’s meow. Women wanted him, men wanted to be him, and his band was on the brink of fame. But as the drugs got harder and Bobby became the biggest roadblock to his own success, Pentagram disbanded and the world started forgetting about the band that almost was. A good few decades later, one Sean “Pellet” Pelletier discovers Pentragram. It’s love at first sound, and a few phone calls later, he finds himself managing Bobby’s “career.” As for Bobby, he’s spent the last few decades smoking crack in his parents’ sub-basement, waiting eagerly for his long-overdue induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. But since he’s more likely to keel over before his delusions of grandeur come to fruition, Pellet tries to get Bobby clean and get him back in the spotlight where he belongs. So with both of their livelihoods resting in the balance, the comeback tour begins.
For anyone who’s seen Anvil! The Story of Anvil (and for those you haven’t, you must), then this should all sound pretty familiar. Aren’t too many docs out there about the better-late-than-never comebacks of largely unknown, yet arguably seminal metal bands that never quite made it for some reason or other. Yes, far worse comparisons have been made, but right from the outset, it’s fighting an uphill battle. Anvil! really is that good.
But from the inset, there is a difference, and it’s a stark difference at that. From the moment you see 1970s Bobby juxtaposed with modern-day Bobby, you’ll know this is about so much more than just a fan’s dream to see his favorite band get back together. And that’s what saves Last Days Here from being a knock-ff doc or a Behind The Music re-run: it’s less about the music or the band as it is about the death-defying Bobby Liebling. If anything, this is a movie about overcoming addiction that masquerades under the guise of a rock doc. Certainly comes with the territory and I’m surprised there aren’t more docs like this for that matter, but still, not what I was expecting.
Although for a genre that tends to tell a lot of the same stories in a lot of the same ways, unexpected is a-okay by me. Anyway, back to Bobby.
When we first meet Bobby, the dude is a fucking horror show. He looks like the Crypt Keeper, he’s mooched upwards of a million dollars off his poor, elderly parents to support his own demise, and he smokes so much crack that he thinks there’s parasites living under his skin. And since the parasites won’t go away, he went and scratched most of the flesh off his arms to, you know, take care of the situation. That’s our introduction to Bobby: a sad, tortured soul with the lifestyle of a man-child.
With all that on the table, and even in retrospect, it’s hard to say what makes us root for him after that first impression. It’d be one thing if he was a victim in all of this, but for the most part he’s actually the one responsible. He’s ruined careers, he’s burned all his bridges, and his life could have been so much different hadn’t he been so utterly self-destructive. He is the product of a life fueled by sex, drugs, and rock & roll (not in that order), and he’s the reason Pentagram’s had a revolving door of over 30-freaking-members to date. As gifted a musician as he is, there’s not much to like about Bobby as a person or the direction his life has taken.
But you do feel for him, and the sympathy/empathy card goes a very long way. Also helps that he’s a generally likable, nice guy when he’s not hellbent on sabotaging his existence. Because, believe it or not, folks, sometimes people mess up. Sometimes they mess up so bad that they turn into crackheads who look 40 years older than they actually are. For all the enemies Bobby’s made out of friends over the years and as much as he made the bed he lays in, watching him in his parents house as he searches through the cushions for loose crack rocks is the definition of tragic. But the talent is still there, and so is the will to change. In a situation like this, no one wants to see crack win. Everyone deserves a chance to turn their life around and Bobby’s no exception.
Which brings us to Pellet.
More than the comeback, more than the addiction, the dynamic between Pellet and Bobby is the bedrock of this story. Pellet is one of those rare guardian angels, the kind that earned his wings pretty early in life. No matter how many times Bobby screws up or relapses or goes to jail or blows a gig, Pellet is there for him to fall back on – devoid of judgment, a vision of understanding. To Pellet, Bobby is a god, the one person in life he’d to anything for no matter how many people tell him to do otherwise. And to Bobby, Pellet is a savior – the last chance he’s got. It’s not an easy role for Pellet to fill, it’s not an easy role for anyone to fill, and as an outsider looking in, you almost have to wonder if it’s worth it? But for Pellet, it doesn’t even seem like there’s an option.
These two need each other. Might be in different ways, but they need each other all the same. If Pellet weren’t around, there wouldn’t be a Bobby to film, and when Bobby starts getting his shit together, you won’t believe the transformation. Man, everyone needs a Pellet in their lives, especially Bobby Liebling.
So that’s all well and good, and better yet, the music’s great, too. I am by no means the biggest headbanger in the pit, but damn if I haven’t been humming Pentagram tunes ever since. Hell of a nice bonus given the subject matter, although I wonder about how many converts it’ll fetch. Then again, that’s beside the point. The reason Last Days Here works so well is because is doesn’t matter whether you listen to Ne-Yo or Dio. The music comes secondary, it’s a vehicle for something else, and like any great documentary, that something else is universal. Take me for example: never even heard of Pentagram before this, probably would have stayed that way too had I not given this a shot. Yet, here I am, sitting in the choir, preachin’ to the masses.
And what a beautiful thing that is.
Last Days Here is a tough one to get through and does have a tendency to be a grueling downer of sorts, the kind of which you’d expect to find on A&E right between Hoarders and Intervention. But as initially depressing as the life of Bobby Liebling is, it truly makes his resurrection that much sweeter. Had it sugarcoated the reality of his situation or shown him as anything other than the pitiful mess that he was, this would have been one forgettable doc. Just a moving, funny, gut-wrenching testament to the ties that bind and the fact that it’s never too late to live. Quite the interesting change of pace from director Don Argott’s last doc – the outrageously infuriating and uber-incendiary The Art of the Steal (another must) – but a welcome change of pace at that.
But seriously, kids: don’t smoke crack.
And the best Tony Scott movie is…
TRUE ROMANCE!
Darn tootin’.
Can’t say I was the biggest Tony Scott fan there ever was, but damn if the guy didn’t have his moments. Truly a loss any way you cut it, folks.
RESULTS:
– True Romance: 19 votes
– Top Gun: 8 votes (think we’ve got some beach volleyball fans up in here)
– Enemy of the State: 5 votes
– Crimson Tide: 4 votes (still haven’t seen it, don’t know why)
– Unstoppable: 2 votes
– Days of Thunder: 1 vote (isn’t it just Top Gun plus NASCAR?)
– Spy Game: 1 vote (haven’t seen it either, don’t know why)
– Man on Fire: 1 vote
– Deja Vu: 1 vote
– The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3: 0 votes (there’s just no topping the original)
– Beverly Hills Cop II: 0 votes
The Secret World of Arrietty (2012)
VERDICT:
9/10 Small Wonders
One of Ghibli’s best, and that’s saying something.
The Secret World of Arrietty is about a young man with a grave illness who gets shipped to a house in the county so he can rest up before undergoing surgery. According to former residents, legend has it that the estate was, and may still be, home to a family of a different sort: four-inch-tall “borrowers” who live under the floorboards and steal stuff from the pantry. Ridiculous, right? Well not to the current housekeeper who’s so convinced of their existence that she’s made it her life mission to have them exterminated. As for our guest, he doesn’t know what to believe…that is until he sees them with his own eyes. So with their lives no longer secret and the repercussions that may follow, the family under the floorboards is forced into a pickle: uproot their home, or trust in the boy who saw them? As the housekeeper increases her efforts and the borrowers start packing their bags, an unlikely friendship forms, one that could save everything.
Not too long ago, back when I was still reviewing old releases and whatnot, I was really into the Studio Ghibli catalogue…or rather the Hayao Miyazaki catalogue. Went through the whole roster, only reviewed about half of ’em, but as far movie marathons go, it was one for the ages. Not the easiest public admission to make since telling most people that you like anime is on par with them that you own eight cats. “Oh. Well…good for you,” is usually how that response goes. Such is life. I don’t know if I’ve gone through this before, but for everyone who’s convinced that anime’s all big eyes, big breasts, and naughty, naughty tentacles, you, sir/madam, are missing out.
As far as the genre goes, this is what you’d call a gateway drug. It’s the directorial debut by one Hiromasa Yonebayashi, but it’s written by Miyazaki himself. If the name’s not ringing any bells, Hayao Miyazaki is more or less regarded as a god in the world of anime and animation in general. If an anime movie gets a wide release stateside, chances are he’s involved. And while he might not be the one helming this little ditty, it’s nevertheless one of the best things he’s been a part of, especially from a writing standpoint.
During that whole Miyazaki marathon I went through, there were highs and there were lows (and the lows were still pretty high). Castle in the Sky was astonishing, so was Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind; Princess Mononoke will always be a personal favorite; Lupin the 3rd: The Castle of Cagliostro is as awesome as it ever was; I still feel a little embarrassed for liking Ponyo as much as I do; Howl’s Moving Castle would have been worse if it wasn’t so pretty; and the same goes for Porco Rosso and Kiki’s Delivery Service. Like I said, hell of a marathon. But of all the gems, there were two that shone brightest: Spirited Away (naturally) and My Neighbor Totoro.
Aside from the countless accomplishments you could run down for both those movies, the thing that makes them stand out is how universal they are. Not only do they tell larger-than-life yet true-to-life stories that are fueled by creativity and boundless imagination, they’re the kind of movies that everyone can appreciate and learn from, regardless of age. Whether it’s coping with a family illness or finding the strength to grow up, there’s maturity at the heart of these movies, the kind of which you’re never too young to grow into and never too old to grow out of. They make a tough pill that much easier to swallow, addressing the hardships of life with the bed manner of someone’s who’s been through it before. Movies like Ponyo or Princess Mononoke come close, but since the former is geared more towards a younger audience and the latter has a dude getting his head shot off, it’s hard to call them timeless.
Arrietty, on the other hand, is very much one of those movies.
Not that Spirited Away or Totoro are one-note in their wisdoms by any means, but Arrietty (pronounced interchangeably as “Are-E-et-tee” and “Air-E-et-tee,” in case you were wondering) has some knowledge to drop. Even from the outset it offers some pretty heavy circumstances, like living with a terminal illness, and being blinded by prejudice. Again, stuff that everyone has to deal with at some point. And in turn, that’s what this movie becomes: a parable of sorts about trusting in others, looking past appearances, that home is where you make it, and the healing power of friendship, among other things. The adventure is a blast in its own right, but this is what makes it so much more. Folks, this thing moved me, and if it weren’t for Grave of the Fireflies, I’d say it was the most affecting Ghibli film out there. Damn you, Grave of the Fireflies! Why’d you have to be so good?!
But like every Studio Ghibli effort, it’s also absolutely gorgeous to watch. A lot of the trademark stuff is here like the giant cats and the woodland warriors, all of which are a welcome addition. Although what makes it particularly arresting is the way it takes such an everyday setting and transforms it into something otherworldly, simply by showing it through a smaller set of eyes. There’s so much color and so much vibrancy in Arrietty’s little world – the world we live in – that it makes you wonder how you’ve been missing it for all these years. It’s not quite the orgy of imagination that many Ghibli films put on display, but what it lacks in that facet, it makes up for in detail.
And then there’s voice acting, which is also fantastic. Amy Poehler is perfect as Arrietty’s mother; an atypically and refreshingly straight-laced Will Arnett is great as Arrietty’s father; and Carol Burnett is fantastic (and often hilarious) as the housekeeper. If there’s one aspect of Ghibli movies that tends to be a crap shoot, it’s the voice acting. So, yeah, dodged that bullet.
However, there is the one thing that semi-bugged me about this story: the said housekeeper. In short, the motive’s just not there. Sure, taking care of pests is what she’s paid to do, but this is plain ridiculous. It’s just never really addressed why she’s so hell-bent on capturing these little dudes and offing them like they’re rodents, especially when “grand theft twine” is the most heinous thing on their rap sheets. True, I can’t speak from personal experience on the matter, but I like to think that “KILL!” wouldn’t be my gut reaction if I saw a fun-size human running around my house. It’s not a dealbreaker or anything, but for the prominent role she plays, there ain’t much explanation for why she plays it.
As far as Studio Ghibli films that don’t involve Miyazaki go, I still have some homework to do, but from what I’ve seen so far, I’m sticking to my original statement. I don’t buy too many movies these days, but the ones I find myself acquiring are the ones that I plan on watching with my future kids one day. With that being said, I’m happy to own The Secret World of Arrietty. This is why I worship at the church of Miyazaki, and why I’ll still be devout when I’m just as old as he is. Some stories and some lessons just never get old, no matter how many times you hear ’em. We could all afford to learn a thing or two from these characters, and after all, you gotta love film makers who love strong women.
Now I just have to read The Borrowers already.
PS: A big shout-out is in order to Marc over at Go, See, Talk! for hooking me up a copy of this in the first place! Folks, it doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it pays to bond over anime. Trust.
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