The Amazing Spider-Man (2012)
VERDICT:
4/10 Tangled Webs
Same shit, different cast.
The Amazing Spider-Man is the story of one Peter Parker: a New York City high schooler with a big brain, little game, and a slight chip on his shoulder from all the crap that life’s thrown his way, like dead parents and stuff. But then one day life throws him a wild card in the form of a genetically-altered spider bite. He wakes up the next morning, discovers he’s superhuman, and gets to humiliating bullies and mackin’ it with the ladies. Life is good for Peter Parker, that is until his punk-ass behavior inadvertently leads to his uncle’s death, and then his mentor turns into a giant lizard that’s hell-bent on turning everyone else into giant lizards. Since the NYPD isn’t exactly equipped to deal with these kinds of problems, Peter steps up to save the world while juggling all those great responsibilities that come with his great powers.
I’m sure someone can explain it to me since I don’t know a thing about the studio politics behind this, but what the hell? Yes, Spider-Man 3 was bad, and nothing can ever erase that God-forsaken jazz club scene from our collective consciousness. But for all its emo haircuts and random acts of patriotism, was it really that bad? Bad enough to nix the idea of Spider-Man 4 and reboot the franchise entirely just five years after the last entry came out? Hell-to-the-no it wasn’t, Howard the Duck didn’t even deserve that fate. ‘Cause, folks, you’ve gotta be a grade-A idiot to reinvent the recipe after one bad batch, especially if the first two were certified crowd-pleasers. But alas, there’s a first time for everything in a world where anything can be rebooted, remade, and “sequeled” at any time if the dollar sign’s big enough.
So, being a first-time offender in this sad, sad moviegoing world that we live in, the optimal question isn’t so much whether The Amazing Spider-Man is better than Spidey 3, but rather does justify its own existence?
In short: no, it doesn’t. But for the sake of long answers, let’s start with what’s new.
Well, there’s the obvious. Mary Jane Watson’s been replaced by Gwen Stacy as Spidey’s main squeeze, which means Kirsten Dunst is out of work and Emma Stone continues her deserved reign as the hottest commodity since sliced lava. And not counting Martin Sheen’s awesome turn as our new Uncle Ben, Emma Stone’s involvement is the best casting call of the lot. Not that I ever had an issue with Dunst to begin with, but as long as Stone keeps doing what comes natural, that girl will keep putting my ass in seats. She’s also the one reason I’m even remotely interested to see the inevitable sequel to this that they’re gonna make, and considering what’s ahead in the rest of this review, that says a lot.
It also means that Andrew Garfield’s in for Tobey Maguire. From what I’ve been hearing, the general consensus seems to consider this is an upgrade. And not that I disagree, but I never thought there was anything wrong with Maguire. Word on the street is that he came off as a whiny bastard. I never got that. I actually thought he was kinda fantastic, at least way better than I thought he would be back when I first heard he’d been cast for the part. I mean, he obviously did something right, ’cause this whole superhero jones we’re on wouldn’t even be happening if Spider-Man hadn’t taken off the way it did. Oh, how quickly we forget…
But anyway, Garfield is good as Parker. I’d like to give him some higher praise than that since he seems like a great guy off-camera and he’s been great in other movies, but for some reason, his endearing, subtle mannerisms felt like they were dialed up to 11 here. Constantly stumbling over his words, constantly tilting and shaking his head like a nervous junkie, generally doing anything to make Peter seem edgier and angstier than the mild-mannered, picked-upon Peter that we’re used to. He even gets a warehouse dance/skateboard montage just like the one Kevin Bacon got in Footloose! Yay? Jury’s still out on that one. Ultimately, the only things you could really call “new” about this Peter Parker is that he’s way bigger into parkour and he does a crap job of keeping his identity under wraps. If anything, his new identity crisis is probably the most significant and intriguing change to the Spider-Man formula that we’ve got, but much like Tobey Maguire, I didn’t really think there was anything wrong with how his identity crisis was handled in the first place.
And as far as what’s new is concerned, that’s about it.
The story, the plot, the characters, the nick-of-time New Yorkers that keep coming to Spidey’s rescue: it’s all right here, it’s all the same, only it’s way cornier than you ever remembered it. This was like déjà vu all over again, and it has been a long, long time since I last say the original Spider-Man.
Just look at Rhys Ifans as The Lizard. The only difference between him and Willem Dafoe is that Norman Osborn wore a mask and Curt Connors turns into a goomba. From their good intentions, to their human testing conundrums, to their unfortunate turns to madness that only Spider-Man can put an end to, everything that happened in the Green Goblin’s storyline is exactly what happens in The Lizard’s storyline. Not an exaggeration, and, honestly, why even bother changing villains?
As you can probably tell, this whole it-doesn’t-work-because-it-was-already-done-better-ten-years-ago problem is of seriously high occurrence here. Part of my feels like I should apologize or something for bringing up the same complaint for every aspect of this movie, but then again, why would they do that? Why would the team behind this say, “Let’s just make Spider-Man again and hope the 3-D glasses’ll make the Kool-Aid taste better,” then expect it to work?
You wanna know what they should have done instead of making the same goddamn movie we saw ten years ago? They should have listened to the fans, cast Donald Glover as Spidey, and had the balls to go with Miles Morales’ storyline. Kill off Peter Parker, start anew, and at the very, very least, give us a non-white superhero to root for aside from War Machine and Nick Fury. Probably too late to set any of these wheels in motion right now, but hey, a lot can happen in a decade.
Oh, and it’s got a shit sense of humor to boot. When it’s not taking cringe-worthy stabs at one-liners by having Peter yell “AYY! I’M SWINGIN’ ‘ERE!” over rush-hour traffic in his worst Brooklyn/Fonzie accent, every other “laugh” revolves around one thing: that Peter keeps forgetting he’s Spider-Man. It’s just one super-forced, eye-roller of a scene after another where Peter forgets his own strength, forgets his Spidey sense, and forgets shit sticks to him whenever he touches it. It gets older than dirt before it can even get new, and before you say it, yes, that’s exactly what they did in the original Spider-Man. But the difference is that it worked in Spider-Man because it was new…and because Sam Raimi is hilarious.
And J. Jonah Jameson is also nowhere to be found, which sucks big time.
For the past couple weeks whenever anyone has asked me what I thought about this movie, I’ve always added, “…but it’s fun,” at the end of each conversation in some vain attempt to not step on the toes of those who liked it. Well, I’m done with that. It’s certainly not the worst superhero movie I’ve seen, but the more time that’s passed and the more I keep thinking about it, the more I realize how totally un-fun it was and how utterly unjustified its existence is. Ultimately, my experience watching The Amazing Spider-Man was pretty similar to how Jacobim Mugatu felt about Blue Steel. This right here is a carbon. effing. copy. of the Spider-Man we’ve already seen, only with a new coat of paint to throw off the masses. Frustrating as sin, especially when I can’t even see the new paint because the camera’s moving too fast for me to make out what I’m watching. Everyone seriously needs to stop doing that during action scenes.
Although if there was an upside to sitting through all 136 minutes of this shameless cash whore of a movie, it was the newfound appreciation I gained for what Sam Raimi did with this franchise. While Spider-Man 2 is one of the best superhero movies ever made, I always thought the original Spider-Man was good and that was about it. Now, it borders greatness thanks to the faults of one, and to tell you the truth, that’s alright with me.
All the same, paying 28 bucks to feel duped is one seriously horseshit date night.
The Dark Knight Rises (2012)
VERDICT:
9/10 Occupied Gothams
Trilogies just don’t get much better.
The Dark Knight Rises picks up eight years after Batman put the kibosh on all of The Joker’s “disappearing pencil” tricks and kill-me/kill-you antics. The late Harvey Dent is still remembered as a hero, Batman’s on the lam and is nowhere to be found, and Bruce Wayne is holed up in his manor while Gotham enjoys its nonexistent crime rate. Life is pretty good until some musclehead with a muzzle named Bane shows up and begins plotting Gotham’s destruction from the underground up. As his plans take shape and Wayne Enterprises starts crumbling under its investments in a potentially catastrophic form of renewable energy, Master Bruce suits up with the help of some unlikely allies to save Gotham once more…hopefully without dying in the process.
If superhero trilogies have taught us anything over the years, it’s that superhero trilogies should just die. Spider-Man 3, X-Men: The Last Stand, Superman III, Blade: Trinity – all great ways to ruin a good time, and exactly the reasons why I wasn’t more excited for this than, oh, I don’t know, Earth. Not to say I wasn’t excited, but with something this big, some lowered expectations are in order. All the same, we could go half glass-full, look at those sorry stats and say, “Well, there’s no way in Hell this could possibly be worse.” I don’t need to go into it, we all know those movies sucked. But thanks to our now-tarnished memories of Spider-Man 2, X-2, Superman II, and Blade II (I guess), it was hard to think back and say anything other than, “Why, God? WHY?!”
To be honest, this thing was set up to fail in many of the same ways as its predecessors. Too many villains means too much going on, they couldn’t have hyped this up more if Morgan Freeman got replaced by Don King, and honestly, where do you go after Heath Ledger and a sequel that’s generally regarded as the greatest superhero movie of all-time? Yes, the red flags were flyin’ and my hopes were a-waning, but amidst all my skepticism and reservations, a voice of reassurance echoed through:
Trust, Aiden. Trust in Chris Nolan.
And those, boys and girls, are some words to live by.
As far as that first concern is concerned about all the good guys, bad guys, and random A-listers that have been added to the mix, it takes some getting used to. Without going into details and thus drafting the longest run-on sentence to ever grace a movie review, lots of characters means lots of sideplots, all of which get introduced early and only get further explained on a borderline need-to-know basis. It’s effective in that it keeps you in the dark and makes the big reveals that much bigger, and it would be a whole lot harder to overlook if the cast wasn’t so damn good. But for the first hour and change, this was one tough cookie to keep up with, so much so that I even thought about giving it a 7. I have my reasons.
The way this script is structured, it feels more reminiscent of Inception than it does the last two movies in this series. It brings an inordinate amount of content to the table, takes an inordinate amount of time getting everything in its right place, and then when the stage is finally set, it starts doing what it came to do. Now, among many other things, the beauty of The Dark Knight was how organically its plot flowed and the fluid pace at which The Joker kept playing the deck up his sleeve. If The Dark Knight was like speed chess in the park that escalated to Russian roulette every ten moves, The Dark Knight Rises is an untimed, world tournament match, but with a roided-up Bobby Fischer on end and a virus-ridden Deep Blue on the other. It doesn’t have that same “Pop quiz, Hotshot!“-adrenaline rush going for it, nor does the story feel seamless as it continues to unfold. And as a result, the complaints started piling up.
What’s up with Marion Cotillard, and why is she knocking boots with Bruce? Since when did Batman give a rat’s ass about renewable energy? What’s with Matthew Modine, and why is he such a dick? And seriously, why is Bane building an army of mole people?
For a while there, it wasn’t pretty, and it wasn’t doing much to redeem itself either. But then pieces found their squares, strategies were set in motion, and the complaints started disappearing. Not disappearing in the sense that the movie became so freaking good it simply negated everything that wasn’t good about it, but it actively started resolving issues and tying up loose ends that I initially thought were results of unusually shoddy writing. More than anything, this is what’s kept me grinning like a fanboy idiot over this movie in the days since I’ve seen it. It’s all about the last hour or so with this one, and I really don’t know what else to say about it other than that it flat-out effing rocks and totally redeems itself. Probably not the most highbrow way to describe it, but that’s what I keep muttering to myself every time I think about it.
Man, let me tell ya’, when Bane finally gets things rolling, he steamrolls that sucker in the most utterly soul-crushing, how-the-Hell-can-you-possible-undo-the-damage ways that I have never seen before in a movie. I don’t care how many Chitauri rolled up in The Avengers, ’cause let’s face it, things ain’t so bad when you’ve got the Norse god of lightning on your team. But this right here, this is some Empire shit. Kind of hard to watch considering that no New Yorker likes watching their home town get terrorized up the wahzoo, but hey, if you’re gonna end a trilogy, you gotta go epic.
The point: this is why you trust in Chris Nolan, because Chris Nolan knows what he’s doing. Dude is batting 1.000.
Adding to that, I feel like it’s unusual to find a film maker who clearly has such a respect and appreciation for the source material available to him. There was a whole lot of Year One in Batman Begins, there was a whole lot of Killing Joke in The Dark Knight, and now we’ve got his spin on Knightfall and No Man’s Land to play us out. I love how true he stays to the characters, how he turns them into believable people with eclectic wardrobes rather than the caricatures they started out as. I love his dynamic between Alfred and Bruce, and I loved how he wrapped everything up by making the first two movies such a big part of the last one. What Chris Nolan and his team have done to legitimize this genre and this character away from that of Hollywood cash-cow, popcorn fluff over the course of seven years is nothing short of invaluable and has changed the game for good. This is the kind of respect and appreciation that would do a whole lot of good for video game adaptations, but alas, another rant for another day.
I mean, come on, remember what a joke Bane was? Remember that, once upon a time and not too long ago, Batman was as cartoony as they come? Dolphins were throwing themselves in front of torpedoes, Ahnold was going mental on the ice puns, and, lest we forget, Bat nipples. But now Bane is more daunting and terrifying than he’s ever been, there’s not a cringe-worthy one-liner to be found, and the entire cast is phenomenal. More importantly, all of their characters do in fact become integral to the story. Really thought Anne Hathaway was gonna be the odd villain out as I had no idea how Catwoman was going to play into all of this, but she might be the best one of the bunch. Tom Hardy was a damn fine pick for Bane, but she was Selina Kyle through and through. Pretty fantastic how they worked in Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Marion Cotillard as well.
Aside from being an outstanding superhero movie in its own right, the thing that strikes me about The Dark Knight Rises – along with the other two entries in this trilogy – is how outstanding it is as a movie, period. It’s almost hard to categorize it as a superhero movie because that’s not the way it’s approached. Instead of going the usual route by adding humanity to a superhuman story, it’s a decidedly human story and that rises (zing!) to extraordinary heights. The characters – costumes and all – have never felt like they were pulled from the pages of a comic book, and the world they live in is a mirror of our own. After all, that’s what’s so great about Batman to begin with: that he isn’t Kryptonian, that he has all the same strengths and weaknesses we do, that he’s more than just an archetype.
On its own merits, even if the plot could have benefited from Ockham’s Razor once in a while, The Dark Knight Rises is as satisfying and invigorating as they come. As the final entry in the series, it’s the perfect swan song to one of the greatest trilogies ever put to film. In an industry that’s only gotten more comfortable with rehashing old stories for the sheer sake of turning a profit, it’s not often to find one that’s not only necessary, but reinvents the wheel in the process. Unless there’s a legion of Batman & Robin fans I don’t know about, this was just what Batman needed, and if nothing else, that’s what we should remember it for.
Folks, what is not to love?
Good Deeds (2012)
VERDICT:
1/10 Moments of Clarity
You know a movie’s bad when you hope Madea shows up.
Good Deeds is about a wealthy guy who runs the family business, is engaged to a fine woman from a fine family, and has a younger brother who’s a total piece of shit. With the exception of his asshole brother who keeps trying to sabotage the family business, our man Wesley Deeds has what some might call a “perfect” life. But that’s not the way Wesley Deeds sees it. See, Wesley Deeds feels trapped, like he’s going through the motions in a life that was expected of him. This is not the life he chose, but it’s the life he’s leading anyway. Then on one fateful day, all that starts to change when he meets a down-on-her-luck janitor who works in his building. The more they get to know each other and the more he begins to help her out of the kindness of his heart, the more he starts to live the life he’s always dreamed of.
I know what you’re thinking: what in God’s name compelled him to watch this? Many times did I ask myself that very question, the answer to which is actually more complicated than it should be. The short answer: such is the life of a movie blogger with a Netflix account. The long story: it takes an unacceptably long time for the good new releases to become available on Netflix, and since I’ve only been reviewing new releases these days, I figured I’d throw some shitty ones in there that I could watch right away. Figure I could get some new material up on the site, balance out all these positive Verdicts in the process, everybody wins. Right? WRONG! Holy fuck was I wrong.
Somewhere along the way, I forgot to consider that I’d actually have to watch these trash humpers. I could deal with Contraband, I could deal with Ghost Rider, but this? This is the final straw. So with a showing of will power that few outside of Guantanamo will ever experience, I stuck this out and started purging my queue when it was all over. Yes, it’s my own damn fault that this came in the mail in the first place and I should flog myself for not headbutting that God-forsaken disc back to Hell where it came from, but what’s done is done. All that’s left is to tear it to shreds.
So where to begin, where to begin?
Well, the story’s a joke. Think you know how this story’s gonna play out? Well guess what? Wesley ends up quitting his job to follow his heart, breaks things off with his fiancee, and winds up going steady with the janitor who turns out to be the love of his life. Bet ya’ didn’t see that one coming, infant child! The only other Tyler Perry movie I’ve seen is Diary of a Mad Black Woman, and this is just as preachy, forced, and wildly unpredictable as that was. Not to mention that every single conflict gets mega-conveniently and mega-amicably resolved without so much as a batted eyelash. Call off your wedding to marry a janitor? Up and leave your high-paying job to do God-knows-what? Finally tell off your dickhead brother in front of hundreds of people? No big deal! As long as you’re happy, we understand, Wesley Deeds.
That’s not how life works. People tend to suffer consequences for their actions, not fall into “Get Out of Jail Free” cards. Is that news? Am I dropping a bomb on Tyler Perry right now? Good gravy, was that a weird way to wrap everything up.
And then there’s the characters, who are also a joke. You know that skit “When ‘Keeping it Real Goes’ Wrong” from Chappelle’s Show? That Wesley’s brother, Walter, all the time. Our first introduction to Walter is when he’s practically pimp-slapping some white lady outside his building on the way to work. Then, not five minutes later, Wesley is forced to intervene when is brother nearly kicks a single mom in the head for taking Wesley’s parking space. Why is he like this? Something about how women are the inferior sex, daddy didn’t love him, and Wesley stole his job. I kid you not, every single time Walter is on camera, he’s on the verge of shooting someone in the face.
Nicest Guy on the Planet: “Great job on those TPS reports, Walter!”
Walter: “Say ‘TPS reports’ again! Say it! I dare you, I double dare you, motherfucker! Say ‘TPS reports’ one more time!”
NGotP: “Do you need a hug?”
Walter, choking the guy with his own tie: “I’MMA KILL YOU, BITCH!“
Just utter madness from one of the worst, most one-dimensional characters I’ve ever seen in a movie. But they’re all like that! Some of the stuff that comes out of the janitor’s mouth made my jaw hit the floor. For instance: Wesley catches her using the company phone and politely asks her to not do that. How does she respond? Something along the lines of, “Oh, yes, massa’. I won’t use the phone no mo’.” Folks, that is not me being racist, that is actually what she says, right out of her neck. Why would she say that? No one says that! That shit is crazy!
Good lord, I really don’t know how to convey how poorly-written and astoundingly heavy-handed this script is in every single way. It’d be one thing if the cast could salvage it, but their efforts are about as useful as tying a life preserver to the Titanic. Thandie Newton overacts her ass off as the janitor; Gabrielle Union is there; Eddie Cibrian is there; Rebecca Romijn is there for some reason; and there’s an absolutely bizarre/unintentionally hilarious cameo from Jamie Kennedy who plays Wesley’s fiancee’s ragingly flamboyant friend. He has maybe two lines in the whole movie, and for some reason he delivers them like Mr. Slave. I don’t know why, but such is the genius of Jamie Kennedy.
All in all, it makes for one terribly odd display of unrealistic people dealing with realistic situations. And minus extra points for cranking the audio to deafeningly loud volumes every time the scene moves to a club. We get it, clubs are loud. That’s why we’re watching Good Deeds instead of bleeding out of our ears and paying 30 bucks for a Jack and coke that’s probably roofied anyway. God, I hate clubs.
Surprisingly enough, the one thing that saved this movie from getting a donut is that Tyler Perry himself is a actually a halfway-decent actor. Maybe it’s ’cause he actually knows how to deliver his own dialogue, or maybe it’s some sinister plot to make himself look better by directing his peers to act like clubbed seals, but his performance is the only one in this movie that could be considered borderline human.
Aside from being a flat-out awful life experience, movies or otherwise, Good Deeds is one of the most excruciatingly boring and vapid movies I have ever had the displeasure to sit through. I just watched the trailer again and almost passed out on my keyboard at the fifty second-minute mark. Such a total mess. I mean, its intentions are good, and congrats to Perry for capitalizing on a demographic that had been ignored by Hollywood, ’cause he’s obviously doing something right even if he could be doing much, much better. But to me, watching this is like staring at one of those Magic Eye 3D paintings. Where some people can look at it and see magic without squinting, I just end up staring at squiggles, wondering if it’s worth the headache.
Something tells me it’s not.
Brave (2012)
VERDICT:
4/10 Birds Ensnared
Strike two, Pixar.
Brave is about a young Scottish princess who has little interest in conforming to the gender role she was born into. Rather than listening to her mother and learning how to act like a proper lady, she spends her days climbing mountains and shooting arrows like the father’s daughter she is. But then one day her parents drop a bomb on her: playtime is over. You, lassie, are getting married. Despite her objections, her folks don’t budge, and before she knows it, her potential suitors from the neighboring kingdoms roll up in force to win her hand. Even though no one really likes being married off to a total stranger against their will, she plays her part thinking that her fate is sealed. That is until she discovers a blatantly overlooked loophole that allows her to compete for her own betrothal, takes advantage of the situation like a total boss, and throws all of Scotland into a tizzy as a result. Her mom gets pissed, words are exchanged, and our princess gallops off into the woods where she stumbles upon a lonely witch who grants her one wish: to change her mom. Since witches aren’t the most trustworthy and straightforward of folk, the princess ends up causing even more trouble for her kingdom, trouble that she has to resolve before it ends up being permanent.
Now, I didn’t see Cars 2, but from what I’ve heard, I’m probably better off. Apparently they turned Larry the Cable Guy into the main character, which is unforgivable in itself, and the moral of the story was something along the lines of “Fossil fuels are bad, but so are alternative fuels. Therefore, keep using fossil fuels. Mmkay?” Right. On top of being a sequel that no one over five was looking forward to, that sounds like an awfully stupid story from a studio that tends to have it down to a science. But since Pixar’s been on a winning streak that would make the UCONN women’s basketball team look like a bunch of lollygagging freeloaders, I think we were more than ready to just forget about Cars 2 and trust in Brave to set things right.
And from a technical standpoint, it does just that. Scotland is fittingly gorgeous and the character models/animations are second-to-none. Hard to say how it ranks against the likes of Finding Nemo and The Incredibles, but the life alone in princess Merida’s flaming locks is more than enough to get those salivary glands working. Swell voice acting across the board, too.
So that’s all well and good, then again, that was all expected. Alas, the same can’t be said of everything else.
In a nutshell, there were too many hands in the cookie jar with this one. It was directed by three people, written by four, and long before my suspicions were confirmed by the end credits, that’s about how many people I thought were writing and directing this. With that many brains trying to screw in a light bulb, more often than not you end up with good intentions and broken glass. For example: the plot devolving into a Celtic clone of Beauty and the Beast and Shrek by Act Two. As far as the plot and its development are concerned, the whole thing is terribly muddled, shockingly unoriginal, and when it was all over, I couldn’t help but wonder what I was supposed to take away from it all?
The premise is at least relatable in the sense that every parent thinks they know what’s best for their kid and every kid knows that parents just don’t understand. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: that Fresh Prince was wise beyond his years. The problem comes with the generally unrelatable manner in which this parable of sorts presents itself: a mother forcing her daughter to wed against her will for the good of the kingdom. Yes, there are women in the world who know this story all too well, but because it’s such an extreme set of circumstances, it makes it very easy to sympathize with the daughter and incredibly difficult to sympathize with her mother, even after the daughter unintentionally makes things worse. But since you can’t exactly make a Disney movie that tells children to rise up against those who gave them life, the writers start to backpedal towards some warped notion of common ground. God forbid they get a nasty letter in the mail, or worse, teach some parent how to parent.
Anyway, this all brings us to Merida.
In her defense, it’s about damn time Pixar put a heroine under the spotlight. Nothing against, Buzz, Woody, and the rest of the gang, but in today’s world of Toddlers and Tiaras and Keeping Up with the Kardashians, girls can use all the role models they can get. And being of the opinion that Jane Eyre is and always will be the apex of fictional female role models, it’s nice to see a lot of Jane in Merida. She’s an independent woman, she doesn’t “fit the mold” that’s expected of her, and she doesn’t sit by idly while the course of her life is dictated by those around her, especially when it comes to men and their pissing contests. You know, the more I think about her now, the more I’m realizing that Merida is kind of a great character, one that didn’t deserve to be so ultimately hobbled by her writers.
Without giving anything away, Merida is totally justified in everything she does in this story, and while some unfortunate things happen as a result of her actions, she is nonetheless warranted in taking them. Yet, for some reason that is clearly beyond me, she’s the one at the end crying and apologizing for disobeying her mother’s wishes. And, folks, that’s just nuts. Call me crazy, but I don’t know if that’s the kind of lesson we should be teaching our daughters, that even if you’re right, you should be sorry when things go wrong. How about this for a lesson: you should stand up for your convictions and you shouldn’t have to apologize because your mom’s got ass-backwards priorities. To do the opposite is to define your fate to someone else’s bidding. That’s how you get married off to some Scottish hick you’ve never met.
I’m not the kind of person who needs to be slapped across the face by a story to understand its moral, but I am the kind of person who appreciates it when storytellers don’t dig themselves into a ditch of moral contradictions. Sometimes parents are wrong and sometimes their kids are right. I don’t know what kind of story this movie was trying to tell, but that sure wasn’t it. Wish it had been though, could have been very easily pulled off with a healthy dose of focus and backbone.
And I also think this is the first Pixar effort I’ve seen that felt specifically catered to kids. The slapstick humor is as weak as it is childish, the musical montages just seem like they’re there for your Oscar consideration, and it feels far more commercial than it does genuine. Man, the greatest thing Pixar ever did was make movies that everyone could enjoy regardless of age, race, gender, or preconceived notion that adults don’t go to Disney movies. With each new Pixar movie I’ve seen, I’ve only laughed, welled-up, and smiled more than I did the time before. They changed the game, folks have been riding their coattails ever since, and I can only hope this isn’t a sign of things to come.
Not too long ago, I read a letter that Up director Pete Docter wrote to a kid who was interested in getting into the animation business. In it he writes that “[Pixar] films don’t get finished, they get released.” For a long, long time, that sounded to me like crazy talk, but now that I’ve seen Brave, I’m starting to think that he’s onto something. As pretty as this may look, it only serves to prove how insignificant eye candy is when the heart’s not there to back it up. There’s a slight chance that I’m probably being harder on this movie than I need to be, but this is Pixar we’re dealing with, a studio that kept setting the bar higher for itself, only to keep clearing it by leaps and bounds each year. Perhaps it was only a matter of time before they started hitting snags, but that doesn’t make this any less disappointing.
However! If you’re still in the market for a fantastic animated movie about being yourself and paving your own path in life, then watch La Luna – the short film that plays right before this – and walk yourself out of the theater. Now that was something special.
Goon (2012)
VERDICT:
6/10 Sin Bins
Sure ain’t Slap Shot, but it sure has charm.
Goon is about a super nice, simple-minded guy living in a dead-end town with a dead-end job bouncing the graveyard shift at a dead-end bar. He tries to make his family proud, but alas, you gotta have brains to be a doctor. Then one fateful night, he goes to a hockey game where his BFF starts running his mouth to one of the players, thus compelling the said player to jump the glass with the intent of physically shutting said mouth. Not one to stand by and watch his BFF eat his own teeth, the bouncer intervenes, effortlessly beats the tar out of the player, and becomes the night’s main attraction. The next day, he gets a call from the opposing team’s coach and, despite having the skating abilities of a one-legged horse, gets drafted for the sole purpose of beating the shit out of the best players on the other teams. He does his job so well, in fact, that he makes his way up to the big leagues where he uses his God-given talents to pick his team up by their bootstraps after having the morale knocked out of them by the biggest enforcer in the game.
If the Hanson brothers were one guy (not those Hanson brothers, dammit) and he was as pleasant off the ice as he was bloodthirsty on it, this would be his story. It’s got “Slap Shot with Stifler” written all over it, and with that connection comes some pros and cons. Now, since this isn’t a Slap Shot review, I’ll keep this short and sweet: Slap Shot is overrated. First half-hour is hilarious and it’s hilarious when they’re on the ice, but people tend to forget how boring the rest of it is. That’s coming from someone who worships at the altar of Paul Newman. It’s still a good movie and it’s still one of the best hockey movies we’ve got, it’s just not the be-all-end-all that it’s cracked up to be.
Which brings us to Goon: a spiritual reboot with all the same pros and cons, only way, way bloodier. For example: the first half-hour is funny, the best scenes are all on the ice, and everything in between leaves something to be desired. Awfully familiar, right?
As for the pros, the story is fine, it’s actually probably better than Slap Shot‘s now that I think about it. It’s got heart to spare and it’s easy to get invested because everyone loves the underdog, it’s just the finer points that keeps hitting snags. The plot feels rushed, there are too many running gags that keep falling flat and refuse to die off, and a lot of times when it is funny, it’s too random for its own good. Not enough hockey-related humor, more than enough humor that has absolutely nothing to do with hockey. Could be wrong though considering that the last time I was in a hockey team locker room was sleep-away camp in fourth grade, a time when crying in the fetal position was more likely than a fight. On top of that, there are more stock characters in here than you can shake a stick at. Folks who show up for ten seconds, serve their purpose, then disappear into the aether, never to be heard from again. That’s just no good.
Although oddly enough, the best things this movie has going for it are its characters. None of them are developed to their full potential and it’s hard to call some of their conflicts “conflicts,” but what they do have is personality, and that goes a long way. For all the half-assed dialogue that writers Jay Baruchel and Evan Goldberg give him, it’s hard not to root for Seann William Scott as Doug “The Thug” Glatt. The dude wouldn’t hurt a fly, but if bleeding’s what it takes to make his teams whole again, then that’s what he’s gonna do. He reminds me of a young Dirk Diggler in a lot of ways, before he got into all that cocaine nonsense. Just a guy with pipe dreams of grandeur who tries to make his family proud with a gift he never knew he had. It’s a fun juxtaposition that makes a two-dimensional character seem three-dimensional, and one that could have been messy had they just written him like a Hanson.
Folks, likability goes a long way, and already liking Seann William Scott to begin with just amplified things further. American Pie, Role Models, and Road Trip all in one resume? We’re talkin’ likability overload up in this piece! Same goes for almost everyone in this movie for that matter, even the “villains.” Liev Schreiber in particular is borderline awesome as Ross Rhea: the biggest goon of them all; the ultimate enforcer; every player’s worst nightmare. Like every other character, Rhea doesn’t have that many layers going for him, but that’s alright because Schreiber makes the most out of ’em. It’s a surprisingly solid performance for this kind of movie and one that I haven’t seen out of Schreiber in, I don’t know, ever. Dude is apparently a badass, as if the handlebar ‘stache wasn’t enough.
Also tend to like Alison Pill, but she’s got the most forgettable character of the lot as Doug’s love interest, Eva; and Jay Baruchel’s got some funny moments as Doug’s BFF, Ryan.
But the thing I wonder about Goon is what kind of service it’s providing? I know it’s a comedy, I know fighting is part of the game (an awesome part at that), and I know I’m totally reading into this far more than is probably necessary, but is this really what the sport needs? After all, this is exactly the kind of stuff that Slap Shot ended up criticizing. As enjoyable as it is, I just feel like the people who start watching the hockey after seeing this are the same people who watch NASCAR for the pile-ups. Granted, hockey could use all the attention it can get, but maybe not the best place to start making introductions is all.
Anyway, getting off the soap box. Back to my original train of thought.
As sloppy as this script is and as much as it kept losing my attention during the last hour, I do feel kinda bad for ganging up on Goon. It’s one of those movies where the more time passes, the less you remember the faults and the more you remember everything that’s so damn endearing about it. For all the blood and missing teeth, Goon somehow makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, like there’s a Doug Glatt in all of us waiting to show the world what we’re made of. Still not enough to snag a 7, but not a bad addition to the film canon of one of the greatest sports of all-time, a sport that doesn’t get anywhere near its due in the world of movies or the world in general.
Seriously, watch hockey. You need to be on that bandwagon.
Michael (2012)
VERDICT:
8/10 Stranger Dangers
An awfully far cry from fallen angels in trench coats.
Michael is about a mild-mannered, middle-aged insurance broker who drives himself to work each day, does his job, and goes back home without causing any trouble. To the world at large, there’s not much about Michael worth writing home about, but that’s alright, ’cause Michael’s not hurting anyone anyway. But what the world at large doesn’t know is that Michael goes home every night to the 10-year-old boy he keeps in his basement. As their “relationship” continues, Michael does his very best to keep the boy under wraps, but as he climbs the corporate ladder and his boy starts to rebel, his life as a closet pederast becomes increasingly harder to manage.
There are a lot of folks who’ll read that last paragraph and wonder what kind of sick puppy would make a movie like this, let alone watch it? I can already hear the echoes of “What is wrong with some people?” as they take a second glance at that Verdict and vow never to return to this filthy, filthy blog. And I totally get it, how could you not? The universal truth of the matter is that any way you cut it, there’s no easy way to sell pedophiles. But by the same token, this movie’s not out to convince us that they’re the misunderstood antiheroes of society, and, unfortunately, this is more an instance of art imitating life instead of the other way around.
Once upon a time – a happier, more wholesome time – this story would have been hard to believe. But thanks to some of the more straight-up evil people that lurk in this batshit crazy world we live in, it’s now terribly easy to see this as less a work of fiction and more a re-telling of truth. Just look at individuals like Elizabeth Smart’s captors or, to an even more royally effed-up degree, Josef Fritzl: Worst Dad Ever. It’s all right there, and it’s not exactly news either. Not that their existence makes the pill any easier to swallow, but it’s hard to point the finger at Michael when there’s so much real-life material for inspiration. Authors have written best-sellers about it, musicians have written hit songs about it, and it was only a matter of time before a film makers gave it a go.
Now, most of the time when he hear about a movie or see how the first Act plays out, we’ve usually heard about and seen enough relatively similar movies to get an idea of how the next two Acts are going to play out. Such is life, but not so much with Michael. Maybe Michael gets caught, maybe he gets away with it, maybe the kid escapes, maybe he dies in the first half-hour. Who knows? One of the finer perks of being the first to tackle any subject in a given medium is that you’re working with a clean slate, allowing you to structure a plot in any way you please without all the hassle of people drawing comparisons. Not only does writer/director Markus Schleinzer take full advantage of this opportunity, but he does an eerily thorough job of taking into account all the worst-case scenarios that could occur if one were keeping a child in their basement.
With each new said scenario, not once was there time where I knew how it would play out. There’s just this vibe about it, this “anything goes” vibe that gets put into action the second you realize what Michael has in his basement and it doesn’t fade for the remainder of the film. For the first time in I don’t know how long, I had encountered a completely unpredictable script, something I haven’t really seen since the likes of Revanche. It was intense, it played on my emotions, and it was good. For someone who watches more movies than the legal limit, this is a truly rare sensation, but it’s also just part of the reason why everything works as well as it does.
At the forefront of it all is the relationship between Michael and the boy, a relationship that’s fascinating to behold as it keeps on evolving. When we’re introduced to them, the dynamic is very much that of a captor and his prisoner. Michael lets the boy out to eat, watch a little TV, and fulfill certain deplorable needs before sending him back to the basement. The boy submits, seemingly aware of how powerless he is to change his hopeless situation. Michael has it down to a science, and by that point, they’re just going through the motions. But ever so gradually, that all begins to change. Michael begins to shed his domineering facade, tries to foster some sense of normalcy out of their situation, tries to coax their dynamic towards that of a father figure and his adopted son. Let’s do chores together like a normal family, then after we can go for a stroll in the park, maybe even find you a little brother. The more he tries to form a connection and convinces himself that his actions are the furthest thing from monstrosity, the more the boy resists, maturing from a helpless victim into a caged animal.
Aside from the unpredictability of it all, it’s the ebb and flow of their “relationship” that really brings depth to a story that’s already rife with suspense. But make no mistake, Schleinzer isn’t out to make us sympathize with Michael, and he doesn’t paint him as anything other than what we already know him to be: unforgivable.
Although he doesn’t turn him into a caricature either – that soulless, boogeyman-like figure that immediately comes to mind when you hear about guys like him. What Michael is is human – the guy next door who waves to you on his way to work every morning. He’s a tortured soul, someone who’s clearly longing for something more out of the situation he’s created for himself and the boy, and it’s that ambiguity behind his motives as a kidnapper that makes him more than just cut-and-dry “evil.” Why Michael is who he is and does what he does is never clarified with a diagnosis, and that’s important, because who knows why some people do the things they do? If he were written any other way, he wouldn’t be real. We’ve all met Michael at some point in our lives, and that’s why he’s so damn terrifying.
And Schleinzer does such a great job telling this story. With the exception of a disco jam that plays twice in the last 15 minutes of the movie, the score is non-existent. Much like Michael’s approach to Kidnapping 101, Schleinzer’s is that of quiet calculation. His characters say only what needs to be said, the camera shows only what needs to be shown, and the end result is an exercise in the stunningly effective powers of restraint, a movie where every scene is as important as the last. It’s hardly explicit in terms of what we actually get to see, but it’s amazing how much more you can get out of a scene when the action is implied rather than broadcasted.
As for the cast, David Rachenberger is fantastic beyond his years as the boy; and Michael Fuith is also very good and very fitting as Michael. But for chrissakes, couldn’t they have given his character a different name? Like it wasn’t gonna be hard enough for him to shake that pedophile image the second people start walking out the theater. Poor Michael Fuith. Pray this doesn’t take off, man.
So, given the subject matter and the fact that there probably aren’t too many others who can back me up on all this ranting, it’s really weird to write about how good this movie is. On the one hand, I was as drawn into the subject matter in the same way I was drawn into the real-life instances that fed into Michael‘s creation. Those were some pretty big stories, and unless I’m fooling myself, I wasn’t the only one who was glued to the updates. On the other, how do you recommend this to someone without sounding certifiable in the process? Still not sure if I managed to walk that line without falling into a straitjacket. All I can really do is reiterate how incredibly well-executed and well-handled it is, and that it’s one of the more unnervingly compelling insights into the dark corners of the human condition that I’ve seen, corners that are still very much a mystery to all of us.
Definitely not for everyone, as I can already imagine the look on my grandmother’s face if I were to read that synopsis to her, but damn if it won’t stick with you.
Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance (2012)
VERDICT:
3/10 Screamin’ Demons
To think there was a time when I thought this looked good…
Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance picks up with our stuntman-turned-flaming corpse Johnny Blaze hiding out in the boonies of scenic France. Apparently his last run-in with that weird-ass kid from American Beauty left him pretty shook up, so to prevent “The Rider” from cutting loose and wreaking havoc again, he crawls into a bottom of a bottle and stays there until further notice. But then an alcoholic, trigger-happy French priest shows up at his door and offers Johnny a deal: help him find Satan’s teenage spawn before Satan gets to him first, and in return, Johnny’s demonic curse shall be lifted. Apparently Satan’s trying to rain Hellfire down on humanity or something, and his kid is the key to doing just that. Since Johnny hates Satan and he’s really freakin’ tired of turning into a flaming skull every time he stubs his toe, he hits the road and starts reapin’ souls.
Hold on to your asses, folks, but I’ve never seen the original Ghost Rider. Heresy, I know. Been lucky enough to catch bits and pieces over the years, and had a damn good laugh when my friend introduced me to Nic Cage’s transformation scene, but alas, life beckoned. Although from what I have seen and from what I have gathered, there was no effing way that a sequel was in order. A remake, maybe? No. Screw that. Forget I even suggested a remake of anything, ever. But then February 17, 2012 rolls around, and whaddaya know! It’s Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance!
“Why are you doing this to us?” cries mankind. “FUCK YOU, THAT’S WHY!” laughs Hollywood all the way to the bank.
Yes, boys and girls, this is the world we live in, and I guess it’s up to us movie bloggers to bear the cross. But as much as I hate to admit it, I was actually pretty stoked for this movie, at least until the reviews started rolling in.
I vividly remember the day when I saw the first trailer for this, a trailer that pissed flames over all my preconceived notions towards a Ghost Rider sequel. Before that day, the thought of me seeing Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance was on par with me birthing a rhesus monkey out of my armpit. But I watched the trailer anyway, then I watched it five more times, then I sent it to all my co-workers, and dare I say that I thought it looked awesome. Whereas the first movie felt like a stale turd, something way too cookie-cutter and Nerfed-down for one of the more decidedly badass heroes in Marvel’s backlog, this felt different, this felt right. The speed, the boiling leather jacket, the bullet barfing: that’s what I’m talkin’ about, that’s how you re-up a character. It was unexpected in the best way a movie can be and all the pieces were there for something truly, insanely fun.
But some things in life are just too good to be true. Some day I’ll stop watching trailers.
Before I go any further, let’s just get it out of the way because that last thing this blog needs is another Nic Cage rant. In short, he’s a Looney Tune, as per usual. His lines are ridiculous to begin with, but he brings it to a new height of unintentional hilarity thanks to his uncontrollable need to one-up The Wicker Man and literally sing his point across whenever Johnny Blaze gets angry. But I get why he got the part. The Ghost Rider is the spirit of angel who went mad and turned into a demon. Nicolas Cage is a human being who went mad and has all but given up looking for the cure. It makes sense, but it doesn’t make his performance any easier to swallow. It’s Nic Cage on speed, which is Nic Cage 99% of the time, which might work for some folks, just doesn’t jive with yours truly. Someone really needs to show him Raising Arizona again, hopefully that’ll flip some kind of switch.
Although the one benefit to his involvement is that the Ghost Rider doesn’t walk around like a mannequin from Hell this time around, which is due entirely to the fact that Cage got to wear the motion capture suit. But that’s it. Starting to feel bad for the guy at this point. At least his hair looks relatively normal.
Idris Elba also encounters all the same problems and is arguably just as horrendous as the aforementioned French priest, Moreau. Dude seems to be a pretty good actor, not sure why he got cast in this part or what compelled him to accept the offer.
The rest of the cast is entirely forgettable/generally useless. Serenity now.
But acting aside, it’s pretty amazing how boring this movie is. The story goes absolutely nowhere as it recycles the same plot device ad nauseum until Johnny has one last chance to reclaim Satan, Jr. and take out his old man for good, and any deeper meaning/character development that it tries to achieve beyond that either feels random or hollow with every attempt. And despite how kickass the action scenes in the trailer look, there aren’t nearly enough of them to balance out how mind-numbingly banal everything else is. And, boy, is it frustrating and then some to watch a movie that’s filmed entirely in shaky-cam. Worked for Neveldine/Taylor in Crank, but that was a different beast. Crank was an exercise in non-stop, mindless entertainment. This, unfortunately, has a mind, or at least thinks it does. Just hard to appreciate the “novelty” of something when the whole damn movie’s taking that “novel” approach.
Ugh. Alright, one last thing…
If there’s one rule of thumb to always keep in mind when deciding on a movie, it’s this: does Christopher Lambert make an appearance? If not, what the hell, give it a whirl. But if so, kill it with fire and run for the hills. As you’ve probably guessed, this is unfortunately one of those latter movies. And it’s not that Christopher Lambert is even bad enough or around long enough to really make an impact on why this gem landed a 3 out of 10, it just says a lot about how seriously the film makers are taking their responsibility to, you know, make a good movie. You just don’t cast Christopher Lambert. That’s like casting Howard the Duck. Not a cameo that anyone wants to see, especially if it’s not meant to be funny. Seriously, fuck Highlander.
Even though my expectations for this had dropped by inordinate levels over the past few months, Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance was still really, really disappointing. I know I’m not alone in this, because when I look at Ghost Rider, the potential’s all there. He’s a biker from Hell who kills bad guys with a chain. How hard can it really be to make him cooler than he already is? This is a character whose story should write itself, but for some reason, that’s not what happened. Instead, the stars aligned to royally screw the pooch. The script, the direction, the cast – it was Hurricane Irene all over again. Wouldn’t surprise me in the least if this got milked into a trilogy, and when that day inevitably comes, I hope I get asked to write the script.
And don’t you just hate it when your favorite songs (Exhibit A; Exhibit B) turn up in the shittiest of movies? Not cool, man. Not cool.
And the best Seinfeld character is…
COSMO KRAMER!
As sad as I am that George didn’t stage a comeback, there’s a reason Michael Richards won all those Emmys.
Serenity now?
Eh, who am I kidding, Kramer’s hilarious. Swell voting, folks.
RESULTS:
– Kramer: 14 votes
– George: 8 votes
– Elaine: 6 votes
– Newman: 4 votes
– Puddy: 4 votes (a close second behind George for me)
– Frank Costanza: 4 votes
– J. Peterman: 2 votes
– Jerry: 2 votes
– Soup Nazi: 2 votes
– Uncle Leo: 0 votes
– Estelle Costanza: 0 votes
Still one of the best half-hours in television history…
Indie Game: The Movie (2012)
VERDICT:
10/10 Game Boys
Finally, a movie that gets it.
Indie Game: The Movie is a documentary that follows four independent video game developers. Two are on the verge of releasing their first commercial game, one is trying to get his finished after four years of delays, and another has already established himself as a paragon of the industry. Leading up the release, development, and aftermath of each game’s respective release, the developers find themselves met with one challenge after another on the road to physically and emotionally reaching their audience. So with their livelihoods on the line and paranoia setting in, they code their hearts out and pray that things go smoothly.
Folks, Hollywood has not been easy on gamers over the years. For as long as any of us can remember, the experience has been an assembly line of big-budget bastardizations that take everything we love about video games and dwindle them down to two hours of sheer, unrecognizable misery. There is literally not a single worthwhile adaptation in the bunch, I will win that argument every time, and it makes me want to cry. It’s one thing to witness such a flagrant misunderstanding and under-appreciation that film makers have for their source material, but it’s the lasting impression that really gets me.
Video game movies are just one more reason why so many people don’t take video games seriously. Thank God for TRON, Scott Pilgrim, and The King of Kong.
Then again, it’s hard to blame people for feeling that way. It’s not like we’re booting up our PlayStations and playing the virtual equivalent of Atlas Shrugged (although sometimes we do); most of the time we’re bathing in the blood from our chainsaw bayonets. As a result, when non-gamers think about video games, four things usually come to mind: what a waste of time they are, how they’re corrupting our children, how good they used to be at Pong, or how much time their sons/boyfriends/husbands sit in front of the goddamn TV playing Call of Duty. They think of a medium that they’re out of touch with, or a medium that’s rotting our brains. What they don’t think about is art, as video games having the potential for more than just mind-numbing repetition and scoring head shots against Korean third-graders. Unfortunately, we made our own bed on this one, but I know I’m not alone in wanting to rip off those effing sheets.
Enter Indie Game: The Movie.
This isn’t about some big-name, Goliath studio with a thousand employees working on a multi-million dollar follow-up to a game that everyone with 60 bucks is already going to buy on opening day. This is about the little guys, the Davids who have put every ounce of their being into a game that no one might even play, yet they keep going at it because there’s nothing else they could imagine doing with their lives. It’s not a glamorous life, and the financial gains are uncertain at best, but who wants to trade stocks when you could be making a freaking video game?
As for the games being made, we’ve got Braid, Super Meat Boy, and Fez. Three unique platformers aiming to breathe new life into one of the oldest genres in gaming. Having beaten Braid years ago and nearly rage quit out of Super Meat Boy recently, it was nice to be familiar with the games and already appreciate them for so many of the same reasons that their creators do. But for those of you who haven’t played them (and you really, really should), don’t worry about it. No geek cred required, though geek cred always helps. Good life lesson there.
See, even if you’ve never played a video game before, it’s hard not to appreciate what these guys are doing. It’s the same way we came to appreciate how Steve Wiebe could make such an incredibly hard game look so incredibly easy in The King of Kong. Some efforts are just universally admirable. Adding to that, you’ve got the process of making a game, which really isn’t any different from writing a book or making a movie in terms of the gumption, dedication, and sacrifice that goes into it. It’s a lonely endeavor, one that takes a monstrous amount of time and hard work, the likes of which I have never personally experienced, and as the developer of Fez puts it, “It’s the sum total of every expressive medium of all-time, made interactive.” I’ve never made a game before, but I’m well aware of the insane degree of commitment that comes with learning how to code. Deciding to make a game with a staff of two is no small undertaking in the slightest, and the more we see how invested and passionate and reliant that these developers are to their games, the more we come to sympathize and root and pull for them.
Eventually, it becomes this fascinating insight into preparing for failure, coping with success, and the fear/hope of connecting with others through something deeply personal. And like the eccentric personalities of the developers themselves, it’s also something that some people just won’t understand. Sitting in front of computer and coding for years at a time isn’t the most relatable hobby one can have, but by the same token, that’s not why they’re doing it, so that we can understand. They’re doing it because it’s innate for them, because rolling the dice is the only option, even if it means depression, disappointment, and isolation. It takes balls to do what they do, and they are men after my own heart for it. These are the people that inspire us towards greatness.
And for all the documentaries I’ve seen, I can’t remember the last time I saw one that evoked such incredible vulnerability from its interviewees. There’s a running theme in the film that the only way to truly connect with people through a game is to open yourself up, flaws and all, and put them in the game. Not only is that theme beautifully displayed in the games themselves, but it’s very much personified in the testimonies of the those behind them. It’s almost shocking to see how angry and dire they get over the idea of not meeting a deadline or not finishing their game, and even more so than the more qualities that endear them, it’s that kind of brutal honesty that gets us to understand the depth of how much these games mean to them.
Because it’s not just a game, it’s them. It’s Phil Fish, it’s Jonathan Blow, it’s Edmund McMillen, it’s Tommy Refenes.
On top of how watchable they all are, it’s also just a gorgeous movie to watch, period. Surprising when you consider that filming someone code video games for days at a time is right up there with sloth races as one of the most boring things you could possibly watch, but the way the footage is pieced together through interviews, voice-overs, and gameplay, it becomes far more watchable than the process has any right to be. Seriously fantastic work by first-time directors Lisanne Pajot and James Swirsky. Gaming conventions have never looked so serene.
Bonus points for a great little score from Jim Guthrie, the guy behind the fantastic soundtrack to Superbrothers: Sword & Sworcery. Yet another awesome indie game worth checking out. I should really put a list together.
But whether your a gamer or a layman – especially if you’re a layman – Indie Game: The Movie is important. It’s important because these are the games that matter, the ones that are going to change the way we all think about games in a world where the quality of a title is too often judged by how good its graphics are. Well here’s a news flash, gang: graphics aren’t worth a damn. It’s just depressing to see how much the video game industry keeps on looking like the movie industry with each new carbon-copy, ultra-violent shoot-em-up that gets released like clockwork each year, even more so when you consider how many people keep biting the hook. Not that I haven’t enjoyed my fair share of shoot-em-ups, but when it comes to substance, story, and being more than just surface entertainment, they ain’t doing the medium any favors. But I digress.
I realize that this is all coming from someone who met all his college friends through Halo, someone who still considers a Sega Genesis the best Christmas present he ever got, someone who will probably still be playing video games on his death bed. I realize that I’m the target audience, that I was ready to give this a 10 before it even started, and as much as I loved it as a life-long convert, I genuinely believe that this movie is watershed moment for the medium, the moment where converts and skeptics alike started seeing video games as something more. More than just eye candy, more than just a diversion. They’re about life, they’re about us, they’re about following your dreams and making them a reality.
Or at least they can be.
Prometheus (2012)
VERDICT:
5/10 Small Beginnings
Making a necessary prequel seem anything but.
Set a good 80 years in the future, Prometheus is about a group of archaeologists who discover a collection of matching hieroglyphs in various locations across the globe. Upon further investigation, they conclude that the drawings are in fact an intergalactic map, left by a race that once inhabited Earth as a way to guide us to them once our technology caught up. Eventually, our technology does just that, so an aging trillionaire decides to foot the bill, puts the archaeologists on a big ol’ ship, and sends them off to space in the hopes that they’ll meet our makers. Two years later, they reach their destination and get to poking around in caves and such. Before long, they realize that those hieroglyphs were more of a set-up than an invitation, but since opportunities like this only come around so often, they stay the course and hope they make it out alive without, oh, I don’t know, getting knocked up by a demon squid.
Not sure if I’m dropping the spoiler of the century here, but since it seems to me like one of the most blatantly obvious, non-spoilers in the history of spoilers to begin with, here’s the scoop: Prometheus is a prequel to Alien. Might come as a surprise to those who haven’t seen Alien in a while or just haven’t seen it at all (for shame…), but for those of us who instantly recognized all the familiar set pieces from the trailer, it was about as surprising as finding out that The Phantom Menace was a prequel to Star Wars. Pretty confused as to why this wasn’t clarified from the get-go instead of kept as such an “is it or isn’t it?” question for people to kind of wonder about, but I have my theories. Will get to those in a bit. Anyway…
As to how Prometheus compares to the likes of Alien and Aliens, it’s apples and oranges. Alien is one of the greatest horror movies ever made, and Aliens is one of the greatest action movies ever made, plus it had some great horror elements to boot. The best things this Prometheus has going for it is that it’s set in the same universe, it’s awful pretty to watch, and Michael Fassbender. As to what kind of movie this is in comparison to Alien and Aliens, it’s somewhere in between, for better or worse. It has horror elements without being very scary or suspenseful, and it has action elements that are more gratuitous than they are exciting. Ultimately, it’s hard really to say what this movie wants to be.
In a nutshell, it feels like it’s written by the co-creator of LOST.
If you gave up after Season 4 or stuck it through to the end, there’s no denying that Damon Lindelof got away with some truly bizarre shit in that show. Smoke Monsters, time travel, tropical polar bears – the list goes on and very little of it gets explained. As the co-writer of Prometheus, he takes a very similar approach, throwing in one unfounded alien encounter after another until things kind of make sense but mostly don’t by the end. The reason he got away with it in LOST is because his characters were so fleshed-out and fantastic. The more invested you became in their stories, the less you cared about the unexplainable being explained (at least that was my experience ). Now, the reason he doesn’t get away with it in Prometheus is pretty simple: his characters blow.
For starters, there is a serious excess of characters along for this trip. Granted, I’ve never been to planet LV-223 to investigate alien life forms, but a crew made up of nearly a dozen members is at least five or six too many from where I’m sitting. It’s not like you can’t make a movie work with that many characters (just look at Boogie Nights), it’s just unnecessary having this many people involved, especially when they serve no other key purpose outside of dying before we even know their names. Aside from the fact that the central characters already feel about as human as a stuffed cabbage, drawing so much attention to even the most minimally important side characters only serves to make us care less about the group as a whole. And it’s a damn shame that this is the case, because I usually like Noomi Rapace, Charlize Theron, Idris Elba, and Guy Pearce, and I usually care about whether or not they’re gonna die. But alas, their dialogue is awful, there’s nothing they can do to not sound like they’re phoning it in, and if only their characters had as many dimensions as those 3D glasses did…
Although there is an exception here, and, as I mentioned earlier, that exception is Michael Fassbender. Fassbender plays our android of the hour, David 8, and not only is his the most interesting and layered character by a marathon, but his performance blows everyone else’s out of the stratosphere. Not surprising considering it’s Fassbender, somewhat surprising considering how stark the contrast in quality is. Although it does kind of makes sense that he steals the spotlight considering that Ripley’s out of the picture and the androids were always the best supporting characters in this franchise.
So with the substance generally lacking, we make our way to the style. I wish I could tell you about how much I drooled on my shirt during this, and I wish I could tell you about how it totally redeems the movie, leaving nothing to be desire. But as pretty as this is and as much as technology has advanced since 1979, it’s really no prettier than Alien. Yes, the special effects, the art direction, and the set designs are fantastic, but it all stems from Alien and doesn’t quite channel the art of H.R. Giger in the same visceral way. Too much emphasis on spectacle, not enough emphasis on atmosphere. Simple as that.
But for all the prequels, sequels, and remakes that Hollywood cranks out every year despite no one even asking for them, it is refreshing to find one that for once feels warranted. If you think back to Alien, it actually does come off like a continuation, like the second or third part in a story that was already long underway. I wanted to know how that ship got there, I wanted to know where those facehuggers came from, and I’d still like to know how Weyland-Yutani found out about it. The potential was already there for something great, and for all of its scope and inspiration, Prometheus has its merits.
I liked the driving force behind the plot, the search for our “engineers,” and since it seems very likely that a prequel sequel’s in order, I’m interested to see how things play out/tie together. But with all the flaws I’ve already mentioned and everything being brought half-circle by its finish, Prometheus‘ reach just proved greater than its grasp. It’s a story and a film that probably would have benefited from being a stand-alone effort rather than operating in the shadow of greatness, which is probably why they weren’t making a big deal out of the Alien connection in the first place. But with the connection having been made and the plotline following so closely, it’s hard not to draw comparisons and wonder where things got so muddled.
Hell of a trailer though, huh?
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