Submarine (2011)
VERDICT:
8/10 Fluorescent Adolescents
Richard Ayoade, please make more movies.
Submarine is about a teenage boy from Wales who’s never had a girlfriend before. Not long after we meet him, he starts to fall for a girl in his class. He’s extremely awkward and endearing about the whole thing, she’s not so much, but eventually they start going steady and he tries his best to make sure he doesn’t lose her. All the while, he comes to realize that his parents’ marriage is slowly falling apart and that the new neighbor next door is trying to steal his mom away from his dad. In order to prevent this from happening, he begins taking measures to breathe new life into their stale marriage because they’re certainly not making the effort.
So it’s a case of first loves and crappy marriages. Not exactly uncharted territory in the world of film, nor is it always a sure thing, and that’s not the best foot to get off on. See, the downside of having to watch so many damn movies it only gets that much easier to start comparing them to the strengths and weaknesses of others that ring as being similar. Aside from the misleading title that probably turned away as many people as it intrigued, Submarine had its work cut out from the start. But the fact that this has all been done before is ultimately one of the many things that makes it so special.
It’s the debut effort from British comedian-turned-director Richard Ayoade, and as you can probably guess from the first sentence of this review, the man is good. I know he’s done some music videos and TV work before, but what he does here is unlike anything I’ve ever seen, especially for such a dialogue-driven movie. To give you loose idea of what it’s like, imagine Rushmore, Scott Pilgrim, and (500) Days of Summer, now imagine them as one with J.D. Salinger yelling “Action!” The deadpan wisdom of Wes Anderson, the youthful energy of Edgar Wright, and the storybook magic of Marc Webb – it’s all there, it’s all Ayoade, and growing up has never been this easy on the eyes.
From a visual standpoint, there’s a lot going on here. The story is told from the perspective of Oliver Tate, a wallflower of sorts who acts older than he is, and Oliver tends to daydream a lot. Most directors would just let Oliver ramble and go on filming what they’re filming, but Ayoade goes one mile further by visualizing everything Oliver’s talking about from make-believe funeral services for his hypothetical death, to the make-believe movie about his romance with Jordana Bevan called Two Weeks of Love-Making. It’s wild to watch and it’s made with an incredible amount of care and intention that does wonders when it comes to putting the audience in Oliver’s shoes. And unbeknownst to me, Wales is apparently knock-your-pants-off gorgeous. Lucky for us, Ayoade knows all about it, uses it to his advantage right on through to the final seconds, and those last seconds sure are something.
But you can’t make an old movie seem new with a nothing but a paint job, and that’s where Ayoade’s script comes in. The reason this coming-of-age adaptation stands out is because it doesn’t feel like an adult writing from a kid’s perspective. Oliver’s weird, no one really understands him, and he doesn’t really understand anyone else even though it’s his top priority at all times. But by the same token, teenage Aiden was pretty weird himself and a lot of what Oliver says hits really close to home as I think back to my high school days fueled by general confusion and a healthy fear of girls. On top of that, no one’s making apologies for Oliver, nor is Oliver making apologies for himself. Grown-ups might lose sight of it at some point or other, but kids have a lot on their plates and figuring it all out is very trial-and-error process. That’s what this movie’s about, that’s what Oscar’s about, and watching him go through it all for the first time is endlessly engaging.
And then there’s the cast, and I’ve got nothing but compliments. I’m crazy about Craig Roberts and that permanent look of concerned yearning he brings to Oliver; Yasmin Paige is a firecracker as his main squeeze, Jordana; Noah Taylor and Sally Hawkins are wonderfully understated and totally odd as Oliver’s parents; and Paddy Considine is a freakin’ trip as the strangest man in all of Wales. Everyone’s got their own thing going on and they all do a great job of sticking to it no matter what’s going on in their lives. Very funky approach, but it’s a very funky movie to begin with.
Alright, enough of the pros, onto the cons. The only reason I didn’t give this movie a 9 isn’t so much a fault of the Ayoade or his cast, but rather my lack of familiarity with Welsh accents. The characters tend to talk pretty fast here, and while it absolutely works in regards to capturing a tone, it’s a bummer when you can only catch 75% of what’s coming out of their mouths. Again, not their fault, and it’s not even all that frustrating since my gut reaction was to just start the movie over again and listen twice as hard rather than knock the cast for speaking in their native tongues. Yes, this hardly even counts as a con in the slightest, but it’s tough to credit a movie as a whole when you miss out on that much dialogue.
And this soundtrack…good gravy, is this a soundtrack. The whole thing is made up of six original tunes by Arctic Monkeys frontman Alex Turner, and if you’re not familiar with Arctic Monkeys, then you’re missing out. But aside from how the songs hold up on their own right out of context, the way they’re married with the events of the movie is flat. out. perfection. What Simon & Garfunkel did for The Graduate, that’s what Turner does for Submarine. It doesn’t hurt that Turner and Roberts are dead ringers, but this really does sound like the soundtrack to Oliver’s life, which also ties into the excerpts from Two Weeks of Love-Making. It’s hard to describe what makes this different from Trent Reznor’s work on The Social Network or Jonny Greenwood’s on There Will Be Blood, but if I was stuck with one word, I’d go with “organic.”
Thanks to positive suggestions from trustworthy nerds, I was expecting good things from Submarine, I just had no idea what those things would be. What I ended up getting was something truly outstanding, something that resonated with me while I was watching it and has only gotten better in the 24 hours I’ve been thinking about it. Despite the Verdict I gave it, there were more than a few times where I wanted to give this a 9 because it’s movies like these that deserve recognition. I could go on about how floored I was by the way Ayoade transformed such a simple premise into such a refreshing, funny, and real experience that some veteran film makers try their whole lives to achieve, but the long and short of it is that Submarine is a trip you can’t let someone else take for you. Trust me, you’ve been here before, but never like this.
Tower Heist (2011)
VERDICT:
6/10 Penthouse Paupers
Brett Ratner made a good movie. If that’s not a sign of the coming apocalypse, I don’t know what is.
Tower Heist is about the loyal staff of a high-rise hotel that looks an awful lot like the Trump Plaza in NYC. Everything’s going swell for the loyal staff, but then one day they find out that the owner of the building has been busted in a Ponzi scheme, which means that all their pensions are now worth jack crap. With nothing to lose and payback on his mind, the manager of the hotel gets the staff together and recruits a small-time crook from his childhood to break into the owner’s high-security suite in the hopes of stealing the owner’s multi-million dollar safety net. Being that none of them know a damn thing about pulling off a heist or where the safety net is, they go through with it anyway and hope for the best.
Before I even bought a ticket, there were a lot of reasons why I was fully prepared to shit all over this thing. It’s directed by Brett Ratner, and it’s common knowledge that Brett Ratner has long been one of the biggest hacks in Hollywood. It stars Eddie Murphy, and he’s why Norbit happened. It also stars Ben Stiller, and not only do I still hate Meet the Parents, but I think the last time he really got a laugh out of me was when Jon Voight almost plugged him with a pickaxe. And then there was the brutally unfunny trailer, and that was all I needed to write this off and further the hate.
So why did I see it? Well, kids, sometimes grown-ups drink beers, and every once in a while, that leads grown-ups to make decisions they normally wouldn’t have had they been drinking, say, SunnyD on the rocks. So in lieu of making it to last call, my friend and I made our way to the theater. Since the options start to dwindle by 10:30 PM, we could either pay $17 to watch Harold and Kumar whack Santa Claus in the third dimension, or listen to the unusually positive Tomatometer and give $13 to Brett-freaking-Ratner. Being the cheapskate I am and not wanting to test my 3D vision without testing my BAC first, we went with the latter. And shockingly enough, it totally paid off.
Since it’s a Brett Ratner movie, you can safely assume that you won’t need a brain to follow what’s happening. This isn’t Heat, this isn’t Inception, this is a big-budget excuse to eat popcorn, watch a sports car hang outside of a skyscraper, and watch A-listers say goofy shit. It takes itself seriously in the sense that there isn’t a soul on Earth who doesn’t have it out for Bernie Madoff these days or wouldn’t love to see the untouchable 1% get their comeuppance, and it totally works on that level. It doesn’t take itself very seriously in every other aspect, and that was a very good call. As far as writing and directing is concerned, I wouldn’t look for it in the Criterion Collection, but what you expect is pretty much what you get. The laughs are more successful than not and the plot is kooky enough to keep things interesting, and that’s enough.
But the big question of the hour is whether or not this is the comeback that Eddie Murphy’s career has been after since he started dabbling in fat suits and tranny hookers? The answer to that question: hopefully. The hope comes from the fact that he’s easily one of the highlights here and this is a welcome reminder that Murphy still has the potential to be funny. The hesitation comes from the fact that few careers have nosedived so epically in the public eye like Murphy’s has over the years and one step in the right direction isn’t enough to make us forget about all those steps back. If someone missed the toilet bowl every time they went to the bathroom, I don’t think anyone would throw a freakin’ parade over the one time they hit a bulls-eye. This isn’t Axel Foley we’re talking about, it’s not Donkey either, but it’s nice to see Murphy getting back to what he’s best at instead of making some more God-awful shit to impress his kids.
And while we’re on the subject of comebacks, where the hell did Matthew Broderick come from? Sure, he had The Producers going for him a few years back, not to mention one of the best cameos in the first season of Louie, but Election was 12 years ago and he hasn’t had too many movies to write home about since. But here he is in Tower Heist, a movie that no one is seeing because he’s in it, and he had me cracking up more than any of his co-stars, Murphy included. He plays a Wall Street investor who lost all his money and was in the process of getting evicted from the tower when the owner got cuffed, and there’s something about watching him play this “Fuck my life” guy whose always got the most deadpan, depressing answer for any random question that really worked like gangbusters. Surprised more people aren’t giving him his due after this, but then again, he’s not the one who did Pluto Nash.
Going off of the cast, the main problem with this movie isn’t so much who’s in it, but rather how many people are in it. There’s an excess amount of Ben Stiller, and since there’s, oh, two dozen other people backing him up in roles that vary from relatively integral to “That’s it?,” I really wish the screen-time had gotten divvied up better. There’s not enough Murphy, there’s not enough Broderick, and there’s not enough Gabourey Sidibe either. You know what? There’s never enough Gabourey Sidibe. That girl kicks ass. Wouldn’t be so bad if Ben Stiller is the one element of this movie that was as disappointing as I expected it to be, but it’s his own damn fault for whipping out his Mr. Furious shtick in every damn thing he signs up for.
Folks, finding an excuse to rag on a Brett Ratner movie is like looking for sand in the desert. If I ever get around to reviewing After the Sunset, I’ll go into further detail, but today I’m gonna bite my tongue. Tower Heist isn’t great by any means, but I can’t deny that I had fun, I was entertained, and I laughed more than I was prepared to. I couldn’t believe it, I still can’t believe it, and everyone I talk to about it can’t believe it either. In all honesty, I was very close to giving this a 7, but I’m still torn as to whether that credit goes to the movie itself or the booze that aided it. Maybe next time, Brett…as long as it’s not Rush Hour 4.
And the best movie beard belongs to…
GANDALF!
Grey, white, who cares? That right there is a beard for the ages. Who knows what kind of creatures and wizardy lie dormant in that mane.
‘Twas a tight race that led to a solid victor, so swell voting, my friends.
RESULTS:
– Gandalf: 12 votes
– The Dude: 10 votes
– Pai Mei: 7 votes (would have been my vote)
– R.J. MacReady: 5 votes
– Frank Serpico: 4 votes
– Chuck Noland: 2 votes
– Obi-Wan Kenobi: 2 votes
– Zack Galifianakis: 1 vote
– Joaquin Phoenix: 0 votes
– King Leonidas: 0 votes
– Bob Barnes: 0 votes
– Jeremiah Johnson: 0 votes
– Other: 2 votes for Albus Dumbledore, 1 vote for Rubeus Hagrid, 1 vote for Dragomir Despard, and 1 vote for Josey Wales (word.)
50/50 (2011)
VERDICT:
9/10 Comical Illnesses
Cancer. Always knew it was this emotional, never knew it could be this funny.
50/50 is about a healthy, twenty-something guy who goes in for a routine check-up one day only to find out that he has spinal cancer. He tells his girlfriend and she reticently decides to tough it out with him, then he tells his best friend who decides to make lemonade out of the situation by using his buddy’s terminal illness as a way for them to pick up chicks. After being given a 50% chance of beating the disease, the guy starts visiting a young psychiatrist to make sense of his mixed emotions while coming to terms with his own life-or-death circumstances.
Folks, it can’t be easy to write a drama about cancer, so it must be one outrageously tall order to make a comedy about it. The last time I saw someone go down that road, it got Jerry Seinfeld booed off the stage. Despite the best efforts of many a comedian, some topics just aren’t good for yuks. But if Life is Beautiful taught us anything about the power of laughter, it’s that it can find a home even in the most tragic of scenarios.
The biggest reason this movie succeeds in toeing the fine line between comic and tragic without falling into the realm of insensitive is screenwriter Will Reiser. A cancer survivor himself, this whole story is in fact a loose adaptation of his own battle with cancer as a healthy, twenty-something guy. He didn’t go through chemo and I’m not so sure about all the medical marijuana he smokes (although I could be dead wrong about that considering his best friend is Seth Rogen), but that’s ultimately beside the point. Like with many sensitive subjects, it tends to be easier to make light of a serious situation when you’ve gone through it firsthand, and that’s where his big-screen surrogate, Adam, comes in.
Adam is played by Joseph Gordon-Levitt, and Adam is complicated guy living in complicated times. He’s got a girlfriend that his best friend hates (and vice-versa), a mother he barely knows, a father suffering from dementia, and a job that’s going nowhere. All his life he’s learned to just deal with it, but now that dealing with it just doesn’t cut it, the one thing that’s threatening to end his young life is causing everything to rise to the surface. The hard part of playing Adam doesn’t seem to be the physical strain, but rather the emotional and coming to terms with the possibility of dying in your twenties from something that’s completely out of his control. In short, it’s about time JGL got himself an Oscar-worthy role, and boy, does he freakin’ deliver with Adam.
But as good as JGL is, I was arguably just as impressed by Seth Rogen as Adam’s best friend, Kyle. I mean, it’s Seth Rogen playing Seth Rogen which is what Seth Rogen always does (not including Observe & Report), but the comedic relief he brings to the movie is exactly what the doctor ordered and exactly what makes his relationship with Adam so special. From joking about how Adam’s spinal scar looks like Kuato from Total Recall, to how crushed he is to find out that Patrick Swayze didn’t beat cancer, not only did he have me laughing my ass off, but he’s got a lot of heart to boot.
Though I’ve gotten better about it over the past few years, addressing death or even the possibility of it has always been a struggle. Since I never knew what to say, I just didn’t say anything, but as I’ve come to learn, even the smallest of gestures in these matters goes a long way. The jokey relationship between Adam and Kyle may not be the type you usually see in a movie like this, but it’s as genuine as they come and is exactly why I’ll always kick myself for the times I never said, “If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.” Even if his head’s somewhere else, Kyle’s heart is always in the right place, and as a result, he’s as much a part of this story as Adam is. If, God forbid, I ever find myself in Adam’s shoes, I’d want a Kyle at my back.
And as for the ladies, Anna Kendrick is still as neurotic and quirky as ever as Adam’s shrink, Katherine, but that’s also what I really like about her. The girl’s got spunk and there’s something very real and endearing about a cute girl who stumbles over her words when she gets nervous. And I don’t know what compelled Bryce Dallas Howard to start staking her claim as Hollywood’s breakout bitch this year, but she is gettin’ it done as Adam’s girlfriend, Rachael. Not quite on the same level of evil as her whole Jane Crow thing in The Help, but let’s just say that it’s nothing short of cheer-worthy when Seth Rogen pulls the rug out from under her fake ass like the host of a hidden camera show.
Okay, back to the serious stuff.
While I’m infinitely grateful to have been healthy as an ox these past 25 years, you don’t need a diagnosis to get how utterly devastating, unfair, and painful cancer is. I’ve known people who’ve beaten it, lost to it, and are currently fighting it, and no matter how many times you hear the news, the blow never lessens. The danger of making a comedy about cancer is creating the impression that cancer isn’t so bad and that laughter is in fact the best medicine. That’s not what Reiser does. For him, I’m sure it helped having Seth Rogen nearby to lighten the mood, but he doesn’t sugarcoat all the highs and lows of what Adam goes through. And regardless of whether or not it’s a verbatim retelling of real-life events, you can tell when it’s real. They go from poignant and subtle to flat-out inescapable, but there are a lot of powerful, personal moments of shock, frustration, anger, and joy that linger with you long after they’ve passed and will leave you entirely sympathetic, if not empathetic.
I don’t know how Reiser would respond to this, but there’s something brave in how open and honest he is about his experiences that almost cost him his life. I can’t even imagine what it must be like to be given a death sentence of sorts and then try to function. Then again, there are a lot of people who know exactly what that’s like and I’m sure his story will resonate with them on a level that I hope to never understand.
It did take a bit to get going, but gut-wrenching comedies like 50/50 just don’t come around enough. Who cares if you already know how it ends? Yes, the element of surprise is gone, but what’s not to like about cancer getting its ass kicked? It’s pretty outstanding the way everything and everyone came together with this movie, because it wasn’t an easy sell and in the wrong hands it could have been a disaster. But in the end, it sure ran the emotional gamut and is a big step up for director Jonathan Levine since The Wackness (even though the soundtrack is expectedly awesome). After all, there’s truly nothing like a belly laugh to cap off a good cry session.
The Last Circus (2011)
VERDICT:
5/10 Big-Top Bloodbaths
Because clowns aren’t terrifying enough.
The Last Circus is about the son of a happy clown who stands by as his father gets recruited for the Spanish Civil War as a machete-wielding killing machine. But when his Pops gets captured and killed by the opposing Franco regime, the kid heeds his father’s final words to pursue a career as a sad clown due to all the horrors he’s endured. So the kid grows up, joins a traveling circus as the resident sad clown, and quickly falls head-over-heels for a gorgeous acrobat who’s married to the resident abusive happy clown. The more the sad clown tries to win her over and the more she leads him on, the more he puts his life and sanity at risk with each time she goes back to the sad clown. Eventually he straight-up snaps and starts using an iron as a makeup kit when he’s not shooting up diners, but that’s what happens when you mess with the sad clown.
Oh yes, it’s as crazy as it sounds. I’m sure many of you might be wondering what would compel a person to watch something like this on their own free will, but my hope is that there’s at least one other curious soul can understand the strange fascination that comes with a movie about homicidal circus clowns. From the day I first witnessed its unforgettably wacko trailer, I knew this was a movie worth seeking out because there’s no way in hell that I’d seen anything like it. And in that sense, it delivered.
Now, I’ve been to Madrid and I’ve been to Barcelona. With the exception of the crushing revelation that 99% of people who go to nude beaches do not belong on nude beaches, those were some pretty awesome towns. That’s about the extent of what I know about Spain, but if this is writer/director Alex de la Iglesia’s idea of reflecting on his homeland’s dark past, I think I should start doing my homework. But all the same, it’s hard to watch something like this and walk away thinking about the political metaphors. When you make a movie about killer clowns, it’s hard to make it about anything else.
Folks, this is an exercise in insanity. Just thinking about it has me shaking my head in stunned confusion over the way things played out and the extremes that were went to in such a short amount of time. I mean, I’ve never had my heart broken by a girl, but I don’t think I’d react to the news by maiming her abusive boyfriend in the nude, escaping into the woods to live off raw deer, and then offing everyone in sight because a vision of my dead dad told me to. I’ll only say it once more, but this movie is strange. Not that there’s anything wrong with strange, but too strange can pose some problems.
It’d be one thing if the sad clown in question was already on the edge and just waiting for that extra push to send him flying, but the situation here is more like going from stressed out to Charlie Manson because you got played by the hot girl at work. Yes, work can be awfully stressful some days and sometimes bitches be crazy, but that’s an awfully rash transition to undergo in a mere matter of hours. As entertaining as it is to watch this fool act on every batshit impulse that comes into his head, it was mostly aggravating to watch him do it so quickly without any kind of natural buildup.
But the weirdest thing about this movie is that it’s a Spanish soap opera at heart. I don’t know about you, but even in my native English, soap operas are just one thing I will never understand. The melodrama, the overacting, the broken hearts, the mind games – it’s a perfect storm of shit I can’t tolerate and The Last Circus wasn’t doing itself any favors in that regard. In a nutshell, the first half of the movie goes exactly like this:
Sad clown falls for happy clown’s wife. Happy clown beats the tar out of his wife. Makeup sex ensues, sad clown is sad. Happy clown’s wife flirts with sad clown. Sad clown gets his hopes up and falls for happy clown’s wife all over again. Sad clown goes on date with happy clown’s wife and tells her to run away with him. Happy clown finds out and beats the tar out of his wife. Makeup sex ensues, sad clown is sad.
Rinse, wash, repeat until the sad clown goes bananas. Jesus, this thing is all over the place and repetitive to boot. But I did love the way de la Iglesia incorporated music into the story and the early scenes between the sad clown and the happy clown are really, really good. It’s too bad things go down the way they do, because the potential was there for something really effing memorable.
The other upside is that the performances are surprisingly good, which is as unexpected as anything else this movie has to offer. Carlos Areces is particularly well cast as the sad clown, Javier, and the same goes for the gorgeous Carolina Bang (given name?) as the happy clown’s wife, Natalia. Not that I was taking it seriously in the first place, but I was still pretty impressed with how the cast threw themselves into their totally gonzo roles.
This is the only movie of de la Iglesia’s that I’ve seen, but word on the street is that they’re all this ridiculous. It’s like a remake of La Strada…by Robert Rodriguez. I really wanted to like The Last Circus more than I did, but even with the political undertones, it’s tough to say what I was supposed to gain from this. Don’t fuck with clowns? No shit and roger that. In its defense, this does have the makings of a cult classic going for it, and cult classics aren’t always appreciated to their fullest on the first go-around. If you’ve read this far and you’re still grinning over the premise, then by all means give it a whirl. Gotta respect movies that exist way outside the realm of “normalcy,” and that regard, this movie is a 10.
Melancholia (2011)
VERDICT:
7/10 Death Stars
Don’t forget the Prozac.
Melancholia is about a woman who goes and gets hitched, shows up hours late to her reception, and gradually begins to regret the marriage altogether as the evening’s events proceed to drown in a mess of family drama and disapproval. After things take their course, the woman shacks up with her estranged sister and succumbs to a mean bout of depression that only gets worse with each new day. But then, out of nowhere, a rogue planet appears in the sky that’s set on a collision course towards Earth. As the planet gets closer and everyone starts crapping their knickers over whether it’s going to smack right into us or pass on by, the woman starts exhibiting some awfully strange behavior as she comes to embrace the coming apocalypse.
If you’ve seen a Lars von Trier movie before, then you know exactly how this movie’s going to end. If you haven’t seen a Lars von Trier movie before, then don’t you worry, you’ll know how it ends within the first ten minutes. The funny thing about my history with von Trier is that I always remember the stuff I love about his movies and always forget the stuff that makes me want to go cry in a corner. You’d think one would remember something like that after watching Willem Dafoe get a millstone drilled into his leg, but for some reason I thought this would be different, that von Trier was upswing and feeling good about life again.
I was wrong.
In Melancholia, von Trier takes everything you love about life – all your hopes, dreams, and half-glass-full outlooks – and dashes them out with one big cosmic “Fuck you, dude.” Unless your favorite movie of all-time is Requiem for a Dream, I can understand how that’s not an easy sell for a lot of folks. I’m of the mindset that us common folk like our hopes and dreams, and we don’t really need some Debbie Downer with a fancy camera to tell us that everything’s not going to be alright, that everything we know and love is someday going to die. Although as much as you try to turn it on its head and reinterpret it otherwise, that is very much the message you will be taking away from this movie. It’s morosely refreshing in the sense that happy endings come wholesale these days, but rest assured, there is another saving grace.
The reason I keep forgetting about all the gut-wrenching misery I have to endure with each new von Trier effort is entirely due to the visuals. Right from the operatic opening montage that makes the end of the world look every bit as beautiful as it probably shouldn’t and every bit as surreal as it absolutely is, it’s pretty amazing how easily von Trier makes your forget about all the death and stuff that’s also unfolding from a distance. It’s hard to describe what a von Trier movie looks like without seeing it action, but it’s every bit as mesmerizing as it is haunting. Despite the happy-go-lucky morality tales he keeps putting on display, when von Trier has a vision, he captures it like no other.
In addition, few directors have ever managed to get such raw, vulnerable performances out of a cast the way von Trier does on such a consistent basis. But the thing that always blows my mind is why people agree to be in his movies in the first place? If you’re a woman and you’re starring in a Lars von Trier movie, expect to be very naked, expect your character to meet a terrible end, and expect your psychiatric bills to skyrocket. If you’re a man starring in a Lars von Trier movie, the same is true, only no one really cares about dudeity. Whatever the reason, his methods work like gangbusters and this here’s no exception.
In a move that would make Mary Jane Watson run for the hills, Kirsten Dunst is quite good as our buzzkill bride, Justine. When you compare Justine to everyone else Dunst has played, she’s arguably great, but the problem with Justine is the problem I have with this movie as a whole. Justine is an incredibly difficult character to put your finger on because you never really know what’s going through her head or what compels her to do the things that she does. From what I gathered, she’s a woman who’s gotten very good at keeping up appearances and fooling herself into believing she’s happy with the decisions she’s made in life. But now that the Kool-Aid doesn’t taste so sweet, she trades it all in to wallow in her despair.
Being that von Trier didn’t just write this script by accident, I’m sure there are people out there who will watch Justine and everything will just click. But the more I watched, the more perplexed I got, and while that’s not the worst thing to complain about in a film, she really does go overboard with the whole “woe is me, life sucks” thing. When the end credits rolled and the theater got very vocal about what they’d just seen, the one thing everyone seemed to come back to was why Justine didn’t do this or why Justine didn’t that? As you can tell, I wasn’t very helpful in terms of coming up with answers, but then again, maybe that’s the whole point. Answers or motives would have been nice, but none of that really matters when a planet’s about smash into Earth. I don’t know if there’s an Oscar in it for Dunst, but she is backed up by some solid turns from Charlotte Gainsbourg, Alexander Skarsgard, Stellan Skarsgard, and Charlotte Rampling. And bonus points for the best Keifer Sutherland performance in ages that doesn’t have him yelling “DAMMIT!” every five minutes.
Of all the movies that I’ve seen this year, Melancholia was far and away one of my most highly anticipated. I loved the supernatural aspect, the doomsday imagery left drool on my shirt, and there’s something bizarrely wonderful about a wedding movie with apocalyptic stakes. It’s not that I was ultimately disappointed either, but when you’re so used to watching movies that aren’t prepping you for your inevitable death, coming to terms with a movie that does is a tough pill to swallow. Whether it’s a metaphor for depression or evidence that some people just want to watch the world burn, Lars von Trier has given us one seriously Earth-shattering picture to mull over and remind us how insignificant we all are in the grand scheme of things.
I’m not sure if it was his intention, but it really is movies like Melancholia that put things into perspective when the world is crashing down around us. All depends on how you take it, I suppose.
The Ides of March (2011)
VERDICT:
7/10 Winning Tickets
News flash: politics sucks.
The Ides of March is about a young, accomplished, wide-eyed political aide for a fictional front-running Democratic Presidential candidate. After working on countless campaigns for politicians who talked the talk without walking the walk, the aide thinks he’s finally found the guy he’s been waiting for, someone who can actually make a change in the country without compromising his principles. In the days leading up to the Ohio primary which could single-handedly determine who takes The White House, the aide finds his own principles compromised when a Republican aide drags him into the darker side of politics. The deeper he gets and the more he tries to stick to his convictions, the more he realizes that he’s in over his head and that the candidate he idolizes might not be the poster boy he originally thought.
Now, I’ve never worked on a political campaign, nor have I ever run for office (despite what you may have heard). I vote, I like to keep abreast of what’s going on and who’s in the race, but when someone around the camp fire shifts the talking point to politics, I prefer not to. Part of it is that you never know what kind of company you’re in, part of it is that I tend to feel like an uninformed ass at the end of those conversations, but most of it is that politics are just ugly.
The general stigma I have against so many candidates and campaigns is that it’s one big popularity contest to see who’s gonna tell the public what they want to hear and who’s the best at reading a teleprompter. Yes, it’s extremely important to vote, but it’s still an endlessly depressing situation, one that makes me wonder how FDR would have fared in today’s political system and why upstanding individuals like himself have become such a rarity over the years? The good news is that every once in a while you’ll get people like New Jersey’s Corey Booker and Chris Christie to mix things up with some actual honesty and the balls to stand up for their policies instead of going with the norm by pussyfooting around the bullshit. Not to ramble and not that I agree with all their policies per se, but it’s increasingly rare to find someone in a public office who actually embodies the notion of “what you see is what you get.
The bad news is that there’s still only so much you can know about a candidate’s true colors from what you see on TV and read in the paper. Remember John Edwards, the guy who almost became Vice President? That’s what The Ides of March is about, and it’s as true as it is depressing. Writer/director/handsome devil George Clooney isn’t naming names or taking shots at any candidate or campaign in particular, but he doesn’t really have to since history tends to repeat itself in these matters for Democrats and Republicans alike. What Clooney’s doing is taking the best of both parties, putting them on a pedestal, and then rolling back the curtain on all the high-profile, career-ruining scandals that got swept under the rug because it’s just that easy. As you can imagine, he’s got a whole lot of source material at his disposal and it makes for some awfully cheery stuff.
Going off that premise, the most interesting thing about Clooney’s script is in fact the character he’s playing, Governor Mike Morris. He’s the ideal candidate, someone the audience can get behind just as much as Gosling’s character does, the guy we all wish was actually on the ballot when we pull the lever come November 2012. While he ultimately comes to represent something else altogether, the thing I liked most about this character and what he has to say doesn’t trace back to the criticisms of our cutthroat political system, but rather the common sense, “Why aren’t we already doing this?” proposals that he brings to the table. It’s not only smart in the positive implications it would have in the world we live in, but it also sheds an even greater light on the empty promises and sweet nothings that we’re so used to being fed. I could start rattling them off here, but I can’t sell ’em like Morris.
From his pros to his cons, you can see a slew of different real-life Presidents in Morris, and that’s important for the story this movie’s trying to tell. Although, the double-edged sword of Morris is that he’s essentially the man behind the curtain who takes a backseat to Gosling’s character, Stephen Meyers. I get why Clooney went down that route as a way to make Morris this untouchable, larger-than-life figure that he is, but Stephen Meyers along with his friends and foes just aren’t as interesting. Not to say that they’re uninteresting, but Morris is more about the message whereas Meyers is more about the drama. All the same, it’s a pretty inventive script in regards to the directions it takes the plot in. You can probably figure out the direction things go in as far as Gosling and Clooney’s relationship is concerned, but as far as all the other backstabbing, head games, and dream-killing that goes down, that was full of surprises and went quite a long way.
You know, there isn’t much I didn’t like about this movie, there just wasn’t much that I loved either, and the main thing that kept this from snagging an 8 was unfortunately its cast. On any other day, there’d be nothing to complain about with a cast like this. Gosling? Clooney? Giamatti? Hoffman? These are some intense guys, guys who know how to command a scene and intimidate the the piss out of whoever’s in earshot. These are guys who don’t need to raise their voices to get the point across, a slow exhale with a mean stare will do just fine, but apparently that wasn’t in the memo this time around. It’s not that they’re all yelling at each other from square one, it’s just that they all have at least one moment where they do just that and it felt unnecessary each time. It’s a pretty subjective gripe and I’d be losing my shit too if I were in Gosling’s shoes, but the dialogue just felt somewhat contrived as a result and it seems like a rookie tactic for such an Oscar-friendly crew that knows a thing or two about playing it subtle.
After seeing it for myself, I asked one of my good friends who works on a political campaign what he thought of the movie. I was secretly hoping for a response that would give me some sliver of hope, some affirmation that Clooney’s got his head up his ass, but instead he said, “Yeah, it’s pretty dead-on.” The Ides of March didn’t necessarily teach me anything about the world of politics that I didn’t already know, but it is effective in turning the worst parts of politics and using them as fuel for a very true-to-life thriller. I think this movie would have been that much more effective as a documentary from the perspective of an aide who worked on the trail with the likes of John Edwards or David Duke, but as the drama it is, it’s pretty darn astute and pretty darn crazy.
Poor old FDR must be rolling in his grave.
And the owner of the best movie mustache is…
BILL THE BUTCHER!
Gotta admit, I did not see that one coming. Nevertheless, that is one bitchin’ ‘stache. If I could grow mine out like that and somehow not look like a hipster, I would do so in heartbeat. Someday…
Swell voting, folks.
RESULTS:
– Bill the Butcher: 11 votes
– Tom Selleck: 10 votes
– Sam Elliott: 8 votes (my vote, hands-down)
– Charlie Chaplin: 4 votes
– D-Day: 2 votes
– Burt Reynolds: 1 vote
– Groucho Marx: 1 vote (not too shabby for a guy who didn’t even have a mustache)
– “Doc” Holiday: 1 vote
– Ron Burgundy: 1 vote
– Lando Calrissian: 0 votes
– Daniel Plainview: 0 votes
– Lt. Aldo Raine: 0 votes
– Daniel Plainview: 0 votes
– Other: 1 vote for Ron Jeremy (easy win for creepiest mustache, but still a classic.)
Take Shelter (2011)
VERDICT:
10/10 Heavy Rains
Now that’s how you teach an old dog new tricks.
Take Shelter is about a blue-collar guy from Ohio with a good family, a good job, and a good life. Unbeknownst to his wife, his daughter, or his co-workers, this blue-collar guy starts having recurring nightmares and daymares of an apocalyptic storm that no one is prepared for or aware of. The more he tries to control the visions with medication and therapy, the more vivid and foreboding they continue to get. Despite his family’s history of mental illness and despite what everyone else is saying about him, he becomes convinced that this is not just him going crazy. So at the risk of his good family, his good job, and his good life, he begins overhauling the tornado shelter in his backyard to prep for something that might never even come.
The downside of making a “maybe he’s crazy, maybe he’s not” movie is that it’s not the most original premise out there. We’ve all seen it before and is has its high points and low points just like every other premise out there that gets recycled ad nauseum. The upside of the matter is that it’s a proven formula that keeps people coming back because even the most disinterested of parties can’t help but wonder what the payoff is gonna be. With that being said, I’ve seen movies like Take Shelter before, but by the same token, I’ve never seen them done like this.
It’s the sophomore effort by writer/director Jeff Nichols, and I feel mighty stupid right now for all those times I bumped down his debut, Shotgun Stories, on my Netflix queue. With each new scene, it became that much clearer that this is a guy who knows how to film, knows how to write, and knows what he’s doing. When the visions are occurring, you can’t take your eyes off them. When the visions aren’t occurring, he lets his cast take charge of his flawless script and you can’t take your eyes off them either. When his characters have conversations, it’s on a need-to-know basis. They don’t beat around the bush and scream ’til they’re lungs collapse, they just get to the point with their indoor voices and receive an equally terse reaction that’s as genuine as it is effective. I love that about Jeff Nichols as a director and I love that about this script. It never ceases to amaze me how much you can say with so little and it’s so refreshing to see characters who embody that principle.
But the thing you’re probably wondering about and thing I’ll get to right now is what makes this movie a 10? Unfortunately, what floored me about this movie isn’t something I can put into words. In a vain effort to try and do just that, it was like an invisible force was sitting on my chest by the first half-hour, and by the last ten minutes, I felt like I was being flat-out bear-hugged. I don’t know about you, but that’s a rare sensation to get hit with at any time or place. See, with each new vision and each new consequence it has for our protagonist, the more invested we become in his life and the more we so badly want to believe that the apocalypse is on its way. Unless you’re Harold Camping, it’s a crazy win-lose mindset for an audience member to be in, and, holy hell, is it effective in developing a sense of impending doom and quiet terror that goes from lingering to inescapable over the course of two very intense hours. Nichols seamlessly transitions the story from dream to reality to something in between, and the desired effect of making you feel just as disoriented and concerned as Michael Shannon is thoroughly engrossing and then some.
And as far as Michael Shannon is concerned, they should just give him the Oscar already and save the other four actors some disappointment come February. What I love about his character, Curtis, is that even with everything he’s experiencing and the effects it has on his day-to-day life, there’s never a time where you look at him and think, “This guys is nuts.” He knows how everyone will react if he starts getting vocal and he knows he could be turning into a paranoid schizophrenic like his mother, so to save everyone from worrying, he bottles it up and covers his bases by trying to cure what’s going on in his head while preparing for the worst. It’s a very un-Hollywood approach to the character and it’s a very true-to-life one at that. Tere is a lot going with Curtis and a lesser man would be living in padded cell, and as far as casting is concerned, Shannon was the perfect choice to be put in Curtis’ shoes.
It doesn’t hurt to have one of the toughest, most chiseled faces in Hollywood, but even if his head was a big pink ball of Silly Putty, Michael Shannon and his all-seeing eyes would still command Curtis with a subtle strength and controlled fury like no other. When you see him action, you won’t be able to imagine anyone else in the role, and when Curtis finally reaches his limit, Shannon quickly cements himself as the powerhouse he is. I know that word gets thrown around all willy-nilly in movie reviews, but “powerhouse” is beyond accurate for a movie and performance like this. It really is amazing what he does here, and since his scene-stealing turn in Revolutionary Road wasn’t quite enough to make him a household name, hopefully this will do the trick before his turn as General Zod in Man of Steel gets everyone on the bandwagon.
Continuing with the “powerhouse” theme, the power that this movie carries is overwhelming in the best way possible, and Shannon carries it easily with some added help from Jessica Chastain as his wife, Samantha. In a turn that further establishes 2011 as the best year of her life, Chastain more than holds her own opposite Shannon and the growth between their characters is really what ties the whole movie together. Just as Curtis’ inner struggles are more than enough to glue you to the screen, the same can be said for his relationship with Sam who’s firmly grounded in reality and just trying to understand what’s going on with her emotionally elusive husband. It’s also the one element about this picture that leaves you with a moral besides, “Sometimes it pays to listen to the village lunatic.” For a movie that’s so wildly surreal in its implications and visuals, it’s fantastic how human and authentically dramatic it manages to be throughout.
I feel like I’ve been watching a lot of movies lately that have left me disappointed because things didn’t “come together” in the long run. Maybe this was karma paying me back for all those hours I spent writing about movies that left me fishing for compliments, but Take Shelter is pretty much the antithesis of all those letdowns. I watch a movie like this and I wonder why more film makers don’t operate like Jeff Nichols in regards to straightforward writing, imagery that speaks volumes, and pairing characters with a perfect cast. From the score that’s riddled with wind chimes to the very last shot that’s guaranteed to get you chatting, it’s just stunning how effective this movie is in everything it does. I don’t know if this review did the Verdict justice, but for my second “10” of the year, this sucker earned it.
Hesher (2011)
VERDICT:
4/10 Mötley Crües
It’s like a Dr. Phil episode, if Dr. Phil listened to Slayer.
Hesher is about a little kid whose home life gets turned upside-down when his mom dies in a car crash and his dad spirals into a mean fit of depression. While biking around town one day, the kid throws a rock through the window of an abandoned building, and before he can bike away, a greasy, shirtless, tattooed mystery man drags him inside and gives him the business for trashing the house he was squatting in. One thing leads to another, the house blows up, and because this headbanger now has nowhere to go, he moves into the kid’s house without an invitation and continues to stick around because the kid’s dad is too messed up to do anything about it. Before long, the guy becomes part of the family even though no one asked him to, and through the power of heavy metal mayhem, Hesher somehow helps get these buzzkills back on track.
On the one hand, I like this premise. I don’t know about you guys, but during some of the more angsty periods of my youth, Nine Inch Nails were about the one thing that kept me from driving my fist through the drywall. Just as there’s something very calming about queuing up to Mozart (or Billie Holiday for my listening pleasure) in times of madness, there’s something equally cathartic about turning the volume up to 11 and blowing out your ear drums with the loudest, angriest shit this side of Cannibal Corpse. No, it’s not a foolproof fix for your woes and worries, nor is it something I’d prescribe to anyone for fear of being written off as Satan, but it worked for me and I totally dig where Hesher‘s coming from in personifying that very therapy.
On the other hand, this premise is kind of stupid. If the events leading up to Hesher’s involvement in this story sound random, you, sir, are correct. Not that it’s needed, but there is no explanation for Hesher, and when explanations are asked of him, not a single fuck is given. And if you’re going back-and-forth about the kind of person Hesher is, he has a giant middle finger tattooed on his back to refresh your memory. Without his involvement, there wouldn’t be a movie, but even with his involvement, it takes a really long time to figure out what his purpose is. If it already sounds weird, trust me, it doesn’t get any more normal.
The kicker is that, despite the title, this movie isn’t even about Hesher. It’s about the kid and his dad trying to overcome their grief and get on with their lives with Hesher acting as the unlikely catalyst who gets them there. Not that it’s a bad thing to make a supporting character the most interesting individual in a movie, but the downside of the situation is that it makes the primary characters seem a lot less interesting in turn. On top of that, I’m still not really sure what to make of Hesher, and I wish that wasn’t the case.
The things I like about him are the things he stands for as a character. Thanks to his penchant for taking control by cutting loose, he’s got a Barry Egan quality about him, and being that Barry Egan is one of my Top Ten All-Time Movie Heroes, that’s something I’m all about. This is a guy you do not give shit to, and if you even so much as think of heading down that road, you will find yourself heading towards complete destruction. For a kid who takes shit on a daily basis and a father who’s too paralyzed with sadness to change out of his sweatpants, I can understand the wisdom that comes with Hesher slapping them in the face with their sad bastard lives. He has his moments, he has his insights, and he even gets a laugh here and there, but that’s just half the time. The other half he’s asking the kid if he’s had sex yet while fingering his mashed potatoes, making jokes to old ladies about why Kermit the Frog’s finger smells like bacon, and generally being a revolting human being who gets harder and harder to like.
I’m sure some people find that stuff hilarious, and that’s cool, but I found myself cringing a lot of the parts I should have been laughing it. It doesn’t help that the dialogue tends to be pretty weak, but even if it was poetry, I don’t tend to crack up at stuff in movies that I wouldn’t crack up at in real life. I don’t think I was supposed to like Hesher in the first place, but Hesher can be quite the annoying asshole, and I’m not too big on annoying assholes.
As for the cast, Joseph Gordon-Levitt is good as Hesher himself, Devin Brochu is fine as the kid, it’s kinda weird to see Rainn Wilson in a serious role as his dad, and Natalie Portman is fine as the kid’s love interest of sorts. I wish I had more to say on the matter, but it’s hard to really care about the performances when you don’t really care about the characters.
If there had been more of a plot and more endearing qualities to Hesher to balance out what a scumbag he is, I think I would have had better things to say. I get what writer/director Spencer Susser was going for with Hesher and I appreciate what he’s trying to say, the issue is the way he goes about saying it. It starts out interestingly enough and feels like something pretty unique, but as the story meandered along, as the characters hardly developed, and as the plot starting jumping from one cliche to the next during the last half-hour, it just wasn’t enough to keep me invested. Props to JGL for giving it is all has usual, but a cast can only do so much with roles like these.
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