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Reviews
Damsels in Distress (2011)
Damsels is a winning, funny film!
Sometimes a movie can be annoying, pretentious, or merely static. Sometimes a movie gets you on its side quickly, allowing you to forgive any flaws. I can see how some audiences could react to a social comedy like "Damsels in Distress" with its obvious debts to the works of Jane Austen, its nods to the self-obsessed world of academia, and its sun-dappled walks amongst gorgeous columned buildings. I think this film won me over in its first twenty minutes by being strange and deeply funny, so I decided to go along for the ride. I found myself beaming at the end and really recommend it, though I will understand if you dislike it.
Rose (Megalyn Echikunwoke), one of the lead characters in Whit Stillman's new film "Damsels in Distress," warns the women around her about men who send drinks to them at bars: "What you are describing is a 'playboy' or 'operator move.'" The way that she draws out the syllables in the word had me laughing more and more each time she said it. Rose, along with Violet (Greta Gerwig) and Heather (Carrie MacLemore) form a trio committed to Suicide Prevention at Seven Oaks College, and in the first scene they adopt transfer student Lily (Analeigh Tipton), taking her under the wing and bring her into their world. As Violet hilariously reminds Lily, "Have you heard the expression, prevention is nine tenths the cure? Well, in the case of suicide, it's ten tenths the cure." Violet and her friends upend the social order by selecting guys far below them on the social scale to date: "Take a man who hasn't realized his full potential-or doesn't have much yet...Then help him realize it or find more." Their philosophy involves elaborate dance sequences, long walks through campus, and pillow talk conversations where all four leads share a room. In a loose construction of chapters with cute names, the girls address the major issues of the day: dance crazes, 'operator' types, parties, and the like.
I first discovered Whit Stillman films in college where the Film Society showed "Metropolitan" and "Barcelona." I remember the intelligence of his characters, the commitments to studying upper-crust society mores, and the brilliance of Chris Eigeman. "Damsels in Distress" is Gerwig's film, and as Violet she shines and gives very funny line readings. As an idealized, romantic version of college, Stillman constructs Seven Oaks as a site of warring interests, with the Romans (not Greek system) clashing with the elitist newspaper writers for the Daily Complainer being most amusing. Does everything in the film work? No. Tipton is asked to carry far too much of the storyline on her own which muddles the film. No male character is half as interesting as the female ones. Yet the work of Gerwig and Echikunwoke carry the day, and instead of a cool kids in school film like "Mean Girls" or "Heathers," and instead of an acidic attack on college and dating like Neil LaBute's "The Shape of Things," Stillman focuses on a delightfully aloof, well- intentioned bubble of socially privileged and sheltered women with sharp wit, heartfelt emotions, and the ability to country line dance. From fashion to dialogue, the women seem wonderfully out of joint with their time. No one carries a phone or checks email. It is almost a shame that the men have to be included.
Oz the Great and Powerful (2013)
Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained
"Oz The Great and Powerful" exists as a calibrated commercial attempt to feed off of the reputation of the 1939 classic American film "The Wizard of Oz." "Oz" is clearly not a filmmaker's personal vision with the stamp of someone in love with the source material. And, that does not need to be an entirely bad thing if the film is interesting and has a compelling story told in a fresh way. Sam Raimi's take on the Oz universe starts out promising, but fails to come together, substituting CGI for story and offering strange lead performances which build towards a conventional climax with no room for nuance.
James Franco plays Oz, a bit of a rake and a charlatan, a traveling magician in Kansas who loves them and leaves them before climbing into a marvelous hot air balloon that gets sucked into the center of a tornado. On the other side, Oz crash-lands and finds himself embroiled in a fight between the denizens of Oz and the machinations of three witches: Mila Kunis, Rachel Weisz, and Michelle Williams. Kunis is Theodora who finds Oz and falls for him, Weisz is Evanora, and Williams is Glinda. He has several traveling companions that include a talking flying monkey in a bellhop costume named Finley (Zach Braff) and the very breakable China Girl (Joey King). The film chronicles their journey to the Emerald City and confrontations with the three witches; the fate of the merry old land of Oz hangs in the balance.
Raimi mirrors the original film by filming in black and white only until the Wizard travels to Oz, and there are some pretty moments of twisted trees and curling mountains, hints of Tim Burton. Several actors reappear in Oz after being introduced in Kansas, some through voice work. One of the major special effects at the end really works well, re-introducing a key moment from the original film, making a comment on the power of movie-making itself. However, the film fails on multiple levels despite its fine pedigree.
A major criticism that I have is that Franco's Wizard has a major epiphany which Raimi has to play as a surprise, not as a development of character because the behavior is not grounded in any sort of evidence from the character himself. He changes, but we never see what prompts that change, robbing the scene of its power. As for the witches, Raimi struggles to balance all three of them, giving them rather dull personalities with little shading. Glinda, for example, played by one of the great actresses of our time, Michelle Williams, comes off as wooden and obtuse. Weisz should have stolen multiple scenes, and the capable, Academy Award-winning actress has little to do with an underwritten character with few juicy lines. Compared to Charlize Theron's delicious work in "Snow White and The Huntsman," Weisz simply does not stand out or inspire fear. Kunis's character should be the most tragic of all but comes across merely as the most immature. There is a potentially strong concept here--that the Wizard falls in love (or simply, lust) with all three witches and his attempts to pursue them have unintended, disastrous consequences--but Raimi is making a PG film here, so any logic that goes beyond "She's mad because he left her once" is not included. The Munchkins are also given very little to do. Jokes fall flat, are repeated, still fall flat. At times, Franco seems to be overacting, over-emoting with his face and gestures, yet that makes sense given his character's showy, performative nature. For much of the film, Franco struggles to find his eye-line with CGI monkey Finley or China Girl, reminding me of Liam Neeson struggling to talk to Jar-Jar Binks in "Star Wars: Episode One-The Phantom Menace." In both films, the attempt to show something immense ruins the fun of seeing something small done well, and the weight of what we already know as an audience is insurmountable. There, Lucas was doling out hints and echoes purposefully; here, Raimi is constrained by what he is allowed to show and what he is forbidden to reference (Where are the ruby slippers?).
The Land of Oz is a powerful place rendered in a way that still haunts me from the 1939 film: ugly trees that throw their apples, poppy fields that cast a spell, imposing castles with chanting guards, and the throne room with its eerie smoke. The image of Dorothy skipping down the road with Toto and companions is as iconic as any in American cinema. It seems a shame to make a film involving Oz that shies away from making any memorable music and cares little about making one memorable scene or sequence beyond Glinda's fog (pretty cool!) and flying monkeys (even more scary than the original). "Oz The Great and Powerful" is potentially exciting and probably great fun for young people, though the universe of the musical "Wicked" makes a better impression. The fault lies not in Franco or the witches or the voice work. Rather, I think Raimi's commercial instincts to deliver a PG film simplified the story, reduced complex characters to simple emotions, and hesitated in doing anything truly weird or amazing. One can only wonder what a visionary unafraid of weirdness or darkness like Guillermo del Toro can have done with Oz.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
Les Misérables (2012)
Les Miserables: C'est magnifique!
Wow. Tom Hooper's sensational film version of the beloved musical "Les Miserables" comes close to cinematic greatness, offering a thrilling story with few frills. Hooper relies upon his strong cast to shoulder the weight of the story instead of using cinematic pyrotechnics or CGI. He trains his camera confidently on his actors, and it is enough. "Les Miserables" is one of the best films of the year and an event of the season.
Jean Valjean (Hugh Jackman) served nineteen years in a French prison for stealing a loaf of bread and breaks parole leading to his pursuit by the indefatigable Inspector Javert (Russell Crowe). In a new life, Valjean's carelessness leads to the destruction of the young Fantine (Anne Hathaway), a factory worker scrimping to send money to her beloved daughter Cosette. Young Cosette lives with the reprehensible Thenardiers (Sacha Baron Cohen and Helena Bonham Carter) before a decision by Valjean changes her life. Time passes, and the plot centers upon a burgeoning insurrection in Paris involving young Marius (Eddie Redmayne) and the daughter of the Thenardiers, Eponine (Samantha Barks). With love and revolution in the air, Valjean must evade his past and protect Cosette (Amanda Seyfried).
Hooper's direction focuses on the faces of the lead characters, and he delivers long, uninterrupted takes of the singing which I feel is to his credit. He does not chop or edit this film into fragments. Having only seen the musical once (this past fall in Houston), I sat in the back of the theater, enjoying the scale of the cast and songs, but I never got the sense of the faces of the actors that would come from sitting in a front row seat. And, who can afford that? Well, for the price of admission to this film, Hooper puts his stars out in front, scaling down the film from gigantic sets and props. He makes "Les Miserables" a film of faces and emotions, rendered beautifully by Jackman, Hathaway, and Barks particularly. With this film and his previous "The King's Speech," Hooper has emerged as an actor's director, putting the best in front of his camera and letting them act. That film earned Colin Firth a Best Actor Oscar and Helena Bonham Carter and Geoffrey Rush supporting acting nominations. His strengths are at play here with actors ready for the challenge.
"Les Miserables" examines the reclamation of one man's soul, the role of faith in a person's life. A kindness delivered upon Valjean early in the film manifests itself in two major decisions that he makes later. Without being clumsy, "Les Miserables" offers up its treatise on the importance of liberty, equality, and brotherhood unabashedly within the framing of faith. I feel that it is Hugh Jackman's best work ever as he proves himself fully capable, both strong and vulnerable, as Valjean. Anne Hathaway's brief work as Fantine is memorable, and her signature song "I Dreamed a Dream" stops the film in its tracks with its impressive holding of her face as she delivers a wounded, defiant vocal. Both Jackman and Hathaway are deserving of nominations for acting. Sacha Baron Cohen and Helena Bonham Carter delight as the Innkeeper and his wife, and "Master of the House" delivers comedic gold. Both do really brilliant work here, adding levity and humor to a dark story, as well as a flurry of comic sequences to disrupt the staid pace of the film. I do wish there were an Oscar for Best Comedic Duo; I would hand it to them.
"Les Miserables" feels a bit long, and I felt at times that I admired it more than loved it. From a technical standpoint, the film feels, looks, and sounds terrific. I found myself less enthusiastic about Russell Crowe's performance as Javert, but nearly everyone else delivers. A film deserving of great praise and no doubt thick crowds this holiday season, "Les Miserables" will receive a slate of Oscar nominations and probably a Best Supporting Actress statue for Anne Hathaway who this year handled two iconic roles (Catwoman and Fantine) with dexterity. "Les Miserables" is an admirable, technically brilliant film and a fantastic trip to the movies.
Silver Linings Playbook (2012)
I Heart Silver Lining Playbook!
Bradley Cooper proves that he can act, David O. Russell proves that he is a preeminent director of A-list talent, and "Silver Linings Playbook" proves to be an emotional, visceral film of strange power and grace. It is one of the best films of the year.
"Three Kings" was a story of a community of soldiers during Desert Storm with Ice Cube, Spike Jonze, Mark Wahlberg, and George Clooney. "The Fighter" is nothing if not a family story with Mark Wahlberg's drug-addicted brother, smattering of sisters, domineering mother, and equally tough girlfriend. "The Silver Lining Playbook" features multiple scenes that layer in family members, neighbors, friends, police officers, and extended family. Robert De Niro and Jacki Weaver play Pat Senior and Dolores. Jennifer Lawrence and Julia Stiles play sisters Tiffany and Veronica; Cooper and Shea Whigham play brothers Pat and Jake. Danny (Chris Tucker, welcome back!) plays a friend Pat meets in a Baltimore institution, and Pat's best friend Ronnie (John Ortiz) who is married to Veronica. There's Pat's psychiatrist Dr. Patel (Anupam Kher) and Pat's local Officer Keogh and a Pat's dad's best friend, a Cowboy fan and a bookie who I don't think is ever named or introduced, but his name is Randy in the credits (Paul Herman). Russell doesn't necessarily introduce anyone in this film; he just layers them in, one on top of the other. A character that begins the film as possibly being imaginary ends up being incredibly real. A character that I thought was dead magically shows up halfway into the film without explanation. It is a magical, transporting film.
Without giving anything away (since deferred information is one of the strengths of Russell's screenplay of Matthew Quick's novel), Pat is recovering from a violent episode, hopes to reconcile with his wife, and checks out of the hospital with his mom. The film begins with his return to his parents' home, and then it centers the concentric circles surrounding Pat. He literally runs in circles around his neighborhood, trapped in his head and his past, triggered by the world around him, struggling with his mental illness. He meets Tiffany, a recent widow, and they forge an unusual, unconventional connection.
Everyone in this film is interesting. Everyone. Even bit parts. I wanted to see an entire movie with Chris Tucker's character Danny. And Ronnie. And Randy. And the mom.
Russell's use of setting is inspired. The film takes place in a community, a neighborhood where a screaming episode wakes up all the neighbors who stand out on their stoops. Most scenes take place inside homes. The film breathes Philadelphia in with a lived-in quality and few obvious references beyond one scene at Lincoln Financial Field. The film features Halloween trick or treating, eating at the Llanerch Diner, running around the winding roads around Pat and Tiffany's Philadelphia neighborhood, Christmas celebrations, outside of the Eagles game with the tailgaters, at a dance competition happening the same time as an Eagles-Cowboys game on television. Russell is uncovering some deep stuff here, exploring where mental illness ends and rabid fandom begins.
Put another way, isn't being a Philadelphia Eagles fan (or, insert your favorite sports team or television show or website or musician here) just another form of mental illness? Is Pat any different, worse, or exactly the same as the E-A-G-L-E-S-EAGLES! shouting fans outside Lincoln Financial Field eight Sundays a year?
The way sports can be used in lieu of communication in American culture is insightful. Pat Senior wants to spend time with Pat watching the game. Let's watch the game together. Let's have something to talk about. Russell is commenting on our national cultural practices in a way rarely depicted. He's not mocking them but questioning our habits. He's wrestling with the rituals of American life: wearing costumes, decorations, watching games, superstition, gambling, competitions, eating, recovery, rallying.
In short, family.
The performances are spectacular. I'm expecting multiple acting nominations, starting with Cooper and Lawrence who are both deserving. I loved seeing Chris Tucker again. The filmmaking layers in sound: the doorbell, Cooper's rapid-fire no-filter conversation, the spectacle of watching two, three, four characters speaking over each other. Russell's philosophy is to cram a scene full of as many people as possible and have it absolutely work, have it absolutely make sense. Because really, all these people are a part of the story, know each other, care about each, make sense to Pat, and for economy of storytelling, why not have them in the same room?
I think the filmmaking mirrors the feelings of mental illness, and I'm in awe of Russell's powers as a filmmaker with specific cinematography and editing choices. He avoids clichés and mawkishness, cutting deep into characters in pain. Yet, the film is ultimately one of hope and joy, earning its ending, and surprising me in the amount I was moved by it.
A must see film from one of our greatest living directors.
Skyfall (2012)
From Scotland With Shotguns
In "GoldenEye," the modern M (Judi Dench) calls Bond "a sexist, misogynist dinosaur, a relic of the Cold War" and announces to him in that same film "If you think for one moment I don't have the balls to send a man out to die, your instincts are dead-wrong," a sentiment put to the test in the bang-bang motorcycle rooftop turned train chase outside of Istanbul that opens "Skyfall."
M's decisions to protect an encrypted list of embedded spy names thrust the film into the dazzling title credit sequence, a swirl of underworld imagery, with Bond being sucked into a whirlpool that dissolves into a skull, a cemetery with an open grave, Chinese red dragons swirling about, and shattering mirrors featuring Bond shooting himself. Post credit sequence set to the incomparable Adele theme song, Mendes then cuts to M, and this film centers itself on her. She is the Bond girl in this film, facing an imminent forced retirement from Gareth Mallory (Ralph Fiennes) as well as an oversight board for her running of MI-6. M is seen drinking a lot in this film, and Trevelyan's words from Dench's first film regarding drinking to silence the screams could be directed at her. Her words and actions put her agents in mortal danger, and culpability is hers. "Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown," the Bard wrote in "Henry IV, Part 2," and M struggles to relinquish hers until the job is done.
Bond returns to action after a mission gone awry with a bullet in his shoulder and grudge against M. He returns to a subterranean M1-6 as a result of a terrorist attack on the headquarters itself. In the tunnels underneath London, M reevaluates Bond and sends him off to China to retrieve the stolen list. The hunt leads to a shimmering assassination sequence in a Shang-Hai skyscraper with the complex interplay of light and shadow as well as a spooky scene in a Macau casino, all reds and yellows and Komodo dragons. Bond is shown entering the mouth of the dragon that marks the casino's front (he might as well be crossing over the river Styx with his coin for Charon), and Mendes's film embraces this image: Bond entering death, Bond entering his own past. Komodo dragons swirl underneath the steps of Bond as he meanders into more and more trouble. Another ship to an abandoned island. A bad guy awaits, over one hour into the film, and Javier Bardem delivers a provocative performance filled with verve and fun, as well as pathos. Bardem is given three powerful entrances as villain (one a long extended monologue as he approaches a captive Bond, one a Hannibal Lecter-style incarceration, and one announced by an Animals cover of John Lee Hooker's "Boom Boom" as he steps off a helicopter-ride of death, automatic weapon in hand, revenge on his mind). Bardem proves capable in all three sequences, a lethal Byronic hero who implores M to "Think of your sins" as well as proves a mirror to Bond. Silva's tortured past implicates M, and he serves as a reminder of her own guilty conscience. Silva is what Bond could become and also a tie back to Alec Trevelyan. Silva is the collateral damage of the actions of both MI-6 and M.
"Skyfall" delivers a Bond film of impressive emotional heft. Mendes has won the Academy Award for directing (and Bardem and Dench, both for acting) and seems as interested in the visual palette of the film (tunnels, abandonment, archways) as he is in letting his small cast dig into the material.
The staging of the final thirty minutes of the film in Scotland at Bond's ancestral home is quite possibly the most exciting Bond action sequence ever put to film. The less said about it, the better. Dench is strong here, as is the supporting cast of Fiennes, Naomie Harris, Rory Kinnear, Ben Whishaw, and the great Albert Finney. There is a sufficient amount of wry humor in the film, ably delivered by Craig; Silva asks Bond his hobby, and Bond spits out, "Resurrection."
Mendes has resurrected the character and the series from the depths of "Quantum of Solace," a nonsensical, muddled step backwards from the character-driven "Casino Royale." He has resurrected the notion of a Bond song being a smash hit, something entering the pop culture beyond Bond. He has resurrected the conceit that Bond the man is infinitely more interesting than Bond the visual effect. Pierce Brosnan left the series several years back in "Die Another Day" with an invisible car and hang-gliding while a laser sliced an iceberg behind him. Craig and Dench have, with help from director Martin Campbell and now Sam Mendes, grounded the Bond series in a man, a man who was a child once, wounded and vulnerable by his parents' death. Bond is a man gripping by his fingertips, yet able to pull himself up. Bond is haunted, yet capable and confident, able to stand on a train track and ignore the approaching train. Bond is a lone warrior, staring out from the rooftops at the end, in a nod to the recent "Batman" series, always on guard.
"Skyfall" is about the changing of the guard with the Bond series in many ways, and I am proud to place it alongside "From Russia With Love," "Goldfinger," "On Her Majesty's Secret Service," and "License To Kill" as a masterpiece.
Four stars, my highest rating.
Premium Rush (2012)
Phelps, Lochte, Bolt, Fraser-Pryce, Manzano, and Joseph Gordon-Levitt?
A bike messenger who pedals the streets of Manhattan with no brakes clashes with a gambling-addicted scumbag psychopath in need of cash who similarly lives his life without restraint. Joseph Gordon-Levitt stars as Wilee (as in Coyote), the recently broken-up protagonist who careens through the alleyways, traffic jams, and crushing cabs of NYC with maniacal fervor. He picks up a delivery that is wanted by Bobby Monday (Michael Shannon) who starts out reasonably asking for the message and ends up raising the stakes dramatically. Without giving too much away, let me say this: Premium Rush is a virtual nonstop chase movie, and a quite good one, with Levitt riding his bike like it is a contact sport. Koepp tips his hat to video game influenced films like Run Lola Run and Scott Pilgrim vs. The World by imbuing Wilee with an almost supernatural ability to read traffic patterns, play out scenarios in a split second, decide which route to take when all others will involve probable accidents and possible death. Dania Ramirez is Vanessa, Wilee's ex who becomes wrapped up in the chase as well, and there's a potential new biker interested in her who is named Manny (Wole Parks) and might be an even stronger cyclist than Wilee.
Shannon's Monday is bug-eyed, maniacal, and scenery-chewing, but I liked decisions that were made to go smaller with his character than is usually seen with a bad guy in a New York City action movie. Instead of feeling like there is a Keyser Soze type mastermind at work pulling all strings or a Hannibal Lecter of infinite foresight and intelligent, Bobby Monday is a mess, careening off the wrong choices he makes into the lives of others, and skidding up against multiple other characters. The star of Boardwalk Empire and criminally under seen Take Shelter, Shannon is such a strong actor with such genuinely interesting choices that I kept wanting him to have even more to do. He plays well off of Levitt here who has a credible bike presence and arrogance.
Koepp plays for laughs, at times, with a relentless biking cop always chasing Wilee's heels and Aasif Mandiv as the home base operator of the bike messenger system. There are some clunky moments involving what Wilee's carrying and why he's got to deliver it, as well as some leaps of logic especially regarding Bobby Monday's degenerate character and Wilee's anti- corporate principles (as he delivers for the corporations, sans suit), but I feel like Koepp has striven to portray a subculture of astonishing speed and daring (the bike messengers who possess skills and talents still necessary in our email, internet-obsessed age) with accuracy and reverence. There is something fun about seeing two actors bike through Central Park, pedaling at top speed, making some jumps that I would never dare on my bike. It's the same draw and appeal of seeing Lochte best Phelps in the pool, seeing Manzano stretch from 6th to 2nd in the 1500 meter final, seeing Bolt pull away from Blake and Gatlin in the 100, or watching Shelly-Ann Fraser-Pryce take down Carmelita Jeter. The thrill of speed and pushing to the limit exists in this film, despite some of its weaknesses.
In a summer of CGI that explodes space ships over alien planets, detonates nuclear weapons, and has a superhero fly bombs into portals through outer space, it was refreshing and charming to see such Premium Rush's technology implemented to simulate traffic accidents, tight squeezes between buses, cabs and their omnipresent opening doors (kinda terrifying!), and some good old fashioned bike moves.
It's kinda sweet.
21 Jump Street (2012)
Better than you think it would be
The new Channing Tatum-Jonah Hill buddy cop retro-television show reboot 21 Jump Street pays homage to a world of mid-eighties undercover police activity where a young Johnny Depp went undercover in a local high school in order to infiltrate gangs, bust drug activity, and expose what was really going on in America's high schools. I think. I don't know because I never watched 21 Jump Street, partly because I was a little too young for it, partly because it never outweighed my desire to watch Cheers or Night Court on WGN. And Hunter. And some of that weird Nick-At-Nite stuff I watched. It wasn't a show my parents watched (that was Wiseguy, L.A. Law), and I don't have any preconceived notions going into this film besides the fact that historically, not many films made from television shows happen to be very memorable or strong. Of course, there was Goodfellas made from Wiseguy, and I'm a fan of Michael Mann's brooding, moody Miami Vice with Colin Farrell and Jaime Foxx, though I don't think that anyone else is. The Flintstones was no good, I saw unpromising portions of the A-Team, and I'm still waiting on NYPD Blue: The Movie. However, the concept of recycling an 80's television show, stripping it down to its essential parts, and rotating in bright, funny actors works splendidly in this film, one of the best comedies of the year so far.
21 Jump Street, directed by two men and having five writing/story credits, feels like a bit of a mishmash, a stew of graphic violence, wonderful obscenity, nonsensical car chases, skilled high school satire, funny moments with Ice Cube as Captain Dickson who supervises the undercovers, as well as some very physical comedy involving Tatum and Hill. As a stew of a film, 21 Jump Street works because at its core it is funny. It made me laugh quite a bit, and the interplay, the chemistry, the bond between Jonah Hill as Schmidt and Channing Tatum as Jenko works. They both are having a really good time making this film, riffing off of each other, sliding over cars, pumping shotguns, wearing tuxes to prom, and playing two characters who deeply desire a chance to redo high school.
There is the strange sight of a guy who looks like James Franco, talks like James Franco, but isn't James Franco (played by his brother Dave Franco). There are biker gangs and potent drugs, a forgettable female supporting character that seems an afterthought in a bromance of this kind. There is the wonderful Rob Riggle as an inappropriate coach, a fun, raunchy Ellie Kemper as a teacher, and the always entertaining Nick Offerman as a stoic Deputy Chief who after chewing the leads out for botching an arrest by not knowing the Miranda Rights ("Did you just say you have the right to be an attorney?") announces, "We're reviving a canceled undercover project from the '80s and revamping it for modern times. The people behind this lack creativity and they've run out of ideas, so what they do now is just recycle **** from the past and hope that nobody will notice." A hilarious line reading by Offerman, but by getting in front of this concept, taking the air out of its criticism, the film smartly allows itself the possibility of being wry and self-aware of its own ridiculousness and origins. Similarly, the brilliant move to switch Schmidt and Jenko's roles in high school results in some of the best moments in the film as Hill plays the jock and Tatum, the brains: Schmidt's leaping through the air as Peter Pan in a theater production; Jenko announcing "Kneel before Zod!" to enter the Science nerds lab room where he struggles to understand covalent bonds; Schmidt's faux- aggressiveness as he takes center stage in a social scene he would have hidden from in high school as well as his supposed Track prowess. The jealousy between the characters is fun, a party scene and its aftermath have their moments, and the level of fun that the directors, writers, and cast seem to be having is palpable. Tatum is a good actor and quite funny, and Hill continues to do his fast-talking thing, which is richly comedic. What a fun pairing of talents.
A comedy is supposed to make you laugh, and 21 Jump Street delivers. Fun lead chemistry and raw, dark humor mix together in an addictive way. With little to no expectations going in (and zero investment because I never watched the show), I was pleasantly surprised. Recommended.
Cabaret (1972)
The Unstoppable Liza & Incomparable Joel Grey
"Life is a cabaret, old chum. Come to the cabaret!" croons a divine Sally Bowles, the American expatriate living in pre-World War Two decadent Berlin, sleeping around and dancing on stage at the Kit-Kat club, played with great vulnerability and aplomb by Liza Minnelli. Partnered with Joel Grey's astonishing turn as the Master of Ceremonies, the two shine in Bob Fosse's remarkable musical Cabaret, a film that foregrounds the messy, tumultuous relationships among Sally, her next door neighbor and lover, the very British Brian Roberts (Michael York), a charismatic German businessman Baron Maximilian (Helmut Griem) with his laissez faire political and sexual interests, and another couple, one Jewish, one not. Ultimately, the film foretells the growing crucible of Berlin with its boots and swastikas, its fear and violence, by focusing on the lives of these men and women in a time of growing crisis.
Liza Minnelli carries the film with a performance of great humanity and grace. Her expressive eyes do so much work in the many close-up shots that Fosse employs; her singing and choreography are both stunningly original and remarkably human. She lives, breathes, performs like a performer, and despite the role's manic-pixie-dream-girl template, Minnelli plumbs the depths of Sally's misery and anxiousness: her anger at her absent father, her ardent desire for fame, her unflappable determination to be the life of the party. A favorite scene involves Sally Bowles trying to contain herself while in the presence of another beautiful woman, and the gestures and frustration boil over in ways that are interesting and true. Minelli's Sally Bowles is a sad character, one of intelligence and passion, and one that I fear for in the ramp-up to the Third Reich. Perhaps, Sally's character lacks some of the naiveté or hollowness that Fosse intends by casting her with the dynamic Liza Minnelli (In fact, I had a difficult time figuring out how anyone would not be captivated by Sally, not take her to Hollywood, not make her a star!). Simply put, the film would not work without Minnelli's tour de force performance of singing, dancing, and embodying the weakness and the strength of Sally Bowles, the American who has lost her way in a darkening city.
In addition to riveting dance numbers and filming everything with medium shots or close-ups which give great focus on the eyes, make-up, and lips of characters, director Bob Fosse stages tableau shots which give us snapshots of the time: the beaten Kit-Kat club owner, bloodied by Nazi boots; a Russian corpse, presumably communist, strewn across a busy street with people looking in horror; an older German man who remains sitting while everyone around him stands in a nationalistic fever singing the song "Tomorrow Belongs To Me," in a moment of ominous foreshadowing. Fosse inserts German radio in the background of multiple scenes at Sally and Brian's flat, with the chatter underlining the rise of Nazism and Hitler, along with an elderly German woman stating at one point, "I wish we could go back to the days of the Kaiser!"
And the emcee, Master of Ceremonies, and Greek chorus of Cabaret is the marvelous Joel Grey, an elfin performer with a haunting and childlike whimsy of a performance with wigs, make-up, various costume changes which go from milkmaid to goose stepping soldier, and a charismatic sense of play. The emcee's role, it seems, is to welcome and usher us into the darkness and twisted mirrors of the Kit-Kat club, to entertain us with his commentary and routines, to comment on the chapters of the film itself through song and dance and comedy, as well as to provoke us into considering the role of art in a fascist state, the role of the artist who performs for those he or she may personally abhor. Can you take a Nazi Party member's money as an artist? Should you? In a world where famous musical artists are taken to task for exorbitant birthday party performances such as Beyonce or Mariah Carey's recent events for the late dictator Moammar Gadhafi, the role of the artist when confronted with cruel power is still present with us today. Grey's emcee playfully sings a dazzling array of songs with amazing choreography, and the film lights up every time he appears. Fosse shows restraint and lets dance sequences play out in real-time or at least in long, unbroken takes compared to the frenetic editing of today's films, allowing us to drink in everything that is going on at once on stage, as well as giving the cramped, confined quarters of the Kit-Kat club stage with its mirrors, curtains, and band an intimate feel; the barrier between performer and audience is nearly nonexistent as Grey dips into the audience from time to time for jokes and laughter. Fosse uses shots of the Master's face as jump cuts at other important moments in the film, signifying the performer's role as always commenting on those men and women and their travails, always seeing everything around him in the city as it spirals and spirals.
It is an astonishing performance.
The Master of Ceremonies adds an elegiac air to the dwindling days of bustling, cosmopolitan Berlin. By all accounts, it was one of the most wonderful cities in the world during this time. The audience slowly changes over the course of the film until the devastating final shot. His songs and dancing then take on the air of a survivalist, a clownish desperate attempt to curry favor and possible reprieve from what is to come. Is there hope? When the SS Storm Troopers come to the Kit-Kat club, and come they will, the Master of Ceremonies and his troupe will have no place in the Third Reich. We know where the Nazis will place them.
The Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Bane vs. The Memory of Heath: Heath Wins
I'm declaring The Dark Knight Rises to be a misfire, a confusing barrage of plot and speechifying without enough sticking to it. Nolan directs with very little of the stylistic energy of Inception or the propulsion of The Dark Knight. Easily one of the most anticipated films of the year, and despite an A-level cast, cutting edge special effects, and a terrifying villain, The Dark Knight Rises sinks.
For a minute, I'm going to focus on Bane, the villain of this third film in the Nolan Batman series. As played by Thomas Hardy, Bane resembles Darth Vader, Osama bin Laden, Sensei John Reese from the Cobra Kai in The Karate Kid with his trademark lapel-grabbing, and a He-Man Masters of the Universe character with swollen arms. Bane's spider-like mask robs us of seeing Hardy's full face, but his voice is wonderfully high-pitched and eerie, supposedly modeled on Eastern European voices recorded in the 1920's. However, I do have to complain if I cannot understand over 20% of the dialogue because of the way it was recorded. Frankly, I needed subtitles or Bane. I'm not saying do without the mask. Absolutely not. The mask ties Bane to Batman as well as the tradition of samurai, as well as it provides endless speculation about its functionality. How is it keeping him alive? Why does he need it? What happens when Batman punches it real, real hard? However, when the recording of a major character's voice is murky and indecipherable, Nolan has just undercut his own film. I lost threads of major speeches because of the sound quality. Bane's philosophies seem anarchic and revolutionary, and yet I'm not sure what drives him. Glimmers arrive in the last third of the film, far too late in my opinion.
I'm not a Batman scholar, and I can't rule definitively on the series. I've read that Nolan did not want to mention the character of The Joker in this film at all out of respect to Heath Ledger's memory, and that to me, again seems like a misfire and a miscalculation. The Joker's decision to kill Rachel Dawes rocked Bruce Wayne to his core; the open-ended decision to leave Heath Ledger's Joker hanging off the scaffolding of a building, tied up and ready for Arkham Asylum begs the question, What would have happened if Bane had united with the recently freed Joker in this film? At one moment, Bane calls the inmates of Blackgate, Gotham's most notorious prison, to join him in his revolution and they overwhelm the guards. Did this film need a slap of Ledger's brilliant, anarchic performance as The Joker? I say whole-heartedly, Yes! Bane seems content during the last third of the film to stand in the shadows, retreat and withdraw, in a way that is sadly disappointing and fails to develop him as a character. I'm endlessly impressed with his quick fighting style, Hardy's ferocious biceps, as well as his WWF-style, fur-coat wearing posture. I'm not at all satisfied by how Bane's story line was resolved as well. It felt like a cheat for a character of his mythos.
Nolan is reaching in the film, reaching for profundity, for connection to world that we live in with banks terrorizing homeowners, with Wall Street destroying Main Street, with the 1% vs. the 99%. Attempts are clumsily made to link the Dent Act to the overreach of the Patriot Act in our post-9-11 society. I admire the desire to be topical and cash in on some of the rage that has boiled over in America. However, beyond a few riotous crowds pushing the rich out onto the street, as well as some destruction, there is little sense of the chaos that has descended upon Gotham during the days of Bane's rule. I didn't get a sense of how the populace responded to the brazen act of terrorism or Bane's order to govern themselves. I was interested in how Commissioner Gordon and other police officers subverted Bane's rules and avoided the death squads, but not enough was ever made clear. Fall turns into winter, and the film boils down at moment to Gary Oldman jumping onto moving trucks which are simply not as guarded and secure as they should be. I'm still unclear who was holding the detonator. Nolan lost an opportunity to present a fully realized universe here, the hidden, cowering citizenry of Gotham with all of their naked ambition and desires unrestrained by police or common order.
In his pursuit of hyper-realism, has Nolan lost something in the telling of the Batman legend? Or, is this film just a minor step backwards from The Dark Knight, a high-watermark of comic book blockbusting entertainment, but still miles above the typical Hollywood dreck? As for this film's ending, Nolan had an opportunity to fully close a chapter forever with his sage and begin a new one. I'll say this; I liked the opening of the new chapter, and the penultimate sequence of shots in Italy robs the film of some of its pathos and power. There was a way to keep some open-ended qualities to that scene, and Nolan chose to avoid his ambiguous Inception spinning top. In this film, he shows us the top falling over which to me is not as enjoyable as the mystery. And, Heath Ledger's performance as The Joker and that character itself casts a shadow over The Dark Knight Rises in terms of performance and passion. It is hard to escape that shadow. But cheers to Tom Hardy for all that he did to make Bane indelible.
Take Shelter (2011)
Gimme More Take Shelter: Best Scary Movie of the Past Five Years
Take Shelter is the most frightening movie of the year. Here are movies that have seriously scared me.
The Silence of the Lambs: Serial killers, cannibals, guys with moving vans, night-vision goggles, and a sense of methodical purpose.
The Exorcist: Demonic possession, little kids spewing vomit and hatred, battle between good and evil.
Scream: Unkillable, unstoppable, undeniable Ghostface killer with his sharp knives, deadly garage doors, and cell phone torments.
Let The Right One In: A realistic, cold, and scary vampire movie set in Sweden.
Martha Marcy May Marlene: Cults, family conflict, your family is a cult, and dissolving reality.
Signs: A sonic nightmare of claws and alien clicks, a father furiously hammering wood over his home's windows, a family terrorized by an unknown force.
Pan's Labyrinth: The Pale Man is a singularly terrifying creature.
Halloween: A supernatural, spooky, silent killer in a William Shatner mask spray painted white. Babysitting gone wrong.
The Ring: Little girl coming out of the television. Rainy Seattle. Grainy, eerie VHS tape. Enough said.
The Shining: A movie that felt wrong when I watched it in high school, and I still think it would feel wrong now at 33; elevators of blood, twins, hotel rooms with unspeakable images.
Jaws: Undeniably effective and psychically scarring for me; there is no point in stepping into a lake, river, pond, or ocean where I don't think about its apex predator gone mad with human blood.
And now, Take Shelter. I want to write as little as possible about this movie because I'm still wrestling with it in my mind, and I think that you should go into the film knowing very little. I need to see the film again, but I think it has something profound to say about mental illness and families, as well as the fragility of a person who knows their own background and makeup. The underrated and under-appreciated Michael Shannon plays Curtis, a working- class guy in small town America (southern Ohio) who works on a construction crew, tries his best, saves his money, and then starts seeing visions. Horrifying, visceral, realistic scenes best left undescribed. Curtis lives with his wife Samantha (Jessica Chastain, again brilliant) and their daughter Hannah (Tova Stewart) who happens to be deaf. They are a family struggling to pay bills, to cover health costs for a cochlear implant for their daughter, strains with both sets of their parents. And then, there's Curtis's visions or revelations or hallucinations which threaten the very fabric of their family and relationships with each other. Shannon and Chastain are both so good here as a couple under duress, and the sense of small town life seems spot-on. I won't say more.
For me, cinematic fright takes many forms as you can see from my list above: serial killers, aliens, elevators of blood, creepy little long-haired girls, great white sharks, lethal vampires, the unkillable, etc... Now, add losing one's mind, family, home, and existence to that list. Take Shelter is a horror film for our times, a film that delves deep into a community, faith, and a family, and its answers are never simple.
A phenomenal achievement. Please go see it!
North by Northwest (1959)
Cary Grant: The Original Running Man
For me, it is difficult to see North By Northwest so closely after recent viewings of Vertigo, the film preceding it in Hitchcock's canon, as there is no way that it can match Vertigo's emotional and evocative power or legacy. Yet, consider this: in a three year span, Hitchcock crafted Vertigo, North By Northwest, and Psycho, each film a distinctly American classic, each film a template for all subsequent films of the genre to follow and imitate, each film still eminently watchable and compelling. What director has ever had such a prolific burst of filmmaking?
Consider Roger O. Thornhill (the O stands for nothing!) as a Mad Man of Madison Avenue advertising, a contemporary to Don Draper who dictates his letters to his secretary as he steals cabs, frets about his theater tickets, fusses over his mother and his two ex-wives. By raising his hand at an inopportune moment at drinks in a restaurant, Thornhill is mistaken for spy George Kaplan by some tough guys. A gun is drawn, Thornhill is spirited away to a remote mansion where the elegantly ominous Phillip Vandamm (James Mason) grills him on what he knows. And true to his middle name, Thornhill knows nothing! So, Thornhill becomes wrapped up in the life of his double, George Kaplan, finding himself in deadly situation after deadly situation, as he becomes embroiled in a tale of international intrigue.
The character of Roger Thornhill is the precursor to many classic movie heroes: John McLane in Die Hard, outwitting the terrorists verbally and physically; The Fugitive's Dr. Richard Kimble, the accused man out to clear his name, shunning eye contact with people on the CTA who are reading papers that have his picture on them; The Big Lebowski shamelessly cribs two key moments from this film as The Dude deals with the Chief of Police in Malibu (Very reactionary!) and finds a phone message on a notepad from Jackie Treehorn; both Ethan Hunt from Mission: Impossible-Ghost Protocol and the man from Man on a Ledge, two quick- thinking heroes who stand outside buildings high up in the air contemplating escape routes as well as death. Sequence after sequence in North By Northwest is groundbreaking and still with us today in the echoes of modern action and chase films. Thornhill evading the police on the train. Disguising himself. Sneaking up to the house and eavesdropping. Finding an address. Dropping his matchbook. What I like most about Grant's performance as Thornhill is his conveyance of genuine annoyance of the confusion caused at times by the double George Kaplan, his exasperation at his circumstances, his sense of righteousness in clearing his name, and his elegantly graceful movements and style. "But I have theater tickets! Tonight! With mother!" he tells his captors at one point, and Thornhill's annoyance converts brilliantly to bitterest gall at his betrayal. I haven't seen many other Cary Grant performances, but this one is brilliant.
Hitchcock's confidence in his storytelling allows there to be stretches of silence where Thornhill creeps around, listening and climbing around a Rapids City base for Vandamm and his Communist camp. Hermann's score drives these scenes, but not in an overpowering way. Rather, the score is the pulse of the film, driving and insistent and full of scary wonder.
The centerpiece of the film is the bravura sequence involving a low-flying crop duster plane about ninety minutes outside of Chicago as a confused Thornhill awaits his supposed meeting with George Kaplan. The crane shot of Thornhill standing at the desolate, almost desert-like crossroads of rural Indiana farmland is classic, existential, and evocative (referenced in films as wide as Cast Away to O Brother, Where Art Thou?), and as Thornhill wanders and wonders about, the engine of the crop duster cuts in and out of the soundtrack in the background. When the plane finally does what it does, the result is terrifying and must have been even more so in 1959. What a perfect image for the hunted man in the wrong place at the wrong time! What surprised me was how long this sequence was. Hitchcock took over ten minutes to set up the scene before the madness started. His patience is one of the things that make him the master of suspense. Even though I knew what was coming this time, it was upsetting and moving to see it play out. And the end to the scene is a classic action film trope still with us today.
And Eve Kendall and Roger Thornhill's flirtatious banter on the train to Chicago has to be a cinematic high point. Both actors are so comfortable and appear to be having so much fun with the provocative lines and coy propositions. The lines caused great laughter in my audience at the Sundance Theater in Houston in 2012, so I have to imagine the forwardness and frankness they must have evoked in 1959. The conversation's context, the traveling of the pair west from New York, is important; Hitchcock slows the film down to give us at least twenty minutes on the train, moving with the characters, savoring the journey and the chase.
And the film's final shot? One of the greatest innuendos of cinema as well. The blast of the train horn and the imagery? Brilliant.
Your Highness (2011)
The Worst Movie of the Year: I Award You No Points.
Shame on everyone involved in this unmitigated disaster of a film: Danny McBride, James Franco, Natalie Portman, Justin Theroux, Zooey Deschanel, Toby Jones, and director David Gordon Green. Pathetic and sad, a colossal misfire as well as a pungent waste of money, resources, time, including mine for watching this sludge. A thirty-second preview for Danny McBride's uproariously filthy HBO show Eastbound & Down is funnier than the entirety of Your Highness, a wannabee-stoner film that cannot even milk its drug use for laughs. Neither cursing, nor McBride's goofiness can save this film from falling to the bottom of the heap. The very bottom. There has to be a bottom, and this film is it.
Zero stars.
So, I'm handing out punishments for this film, the lowest rating I've given for the entire year so far.
James Franco should be forced to watch his performance in this film on a loop over and over again with his eyes held open ala A Clockwork Orange.
Natalie Portman should have to return her Black Swan Best Actress Academy Award and never speak of her involvement in this film ever.
Justin Theroux should have to stop dating Jennifer Aniston.
And director David Gordon Green?
To paraphrase the classic film comedy Billy Madison, Mr. Green, what you've just created ... is one of the most insanely idiotic things I have ever watched. At no point in your rambling, incoherent film were you even close to anything that could be considered a rational (or funny) thought. Everyone who has seen Your Highness is now dumber for having watched it.
I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul.
Safety Not Guaranteed (2012)
Safety is never guaranteed in life, love, and friendship.
WANTED: Someone to go back in time with me. This is not a joke. You'll get paid after we get back. Must bring your own weapons. I have only done this once before. SAFETY NOT GUARANTEED.
PLOT: Parks and Recreation's Aubrey Plaza plays Darius, an intern at a Seattle news magazine roped into investigating the cryptic personal ad with lead writer Jeff (Jake Johnson) and fellow intern Arnau (Karan Soni). A trip to the small town of Jake's youth allows him to try to reconnect with an old flame while Darius and Arnau stake out the post office box trying to get a glimpse of the man behind the ad. He is Kenneth (Mark Duplass), a grocery clerk fond of headbands and secrecy, easily one of the most interesting characters portrayed on screen this year. He is building a time machine, and Darius becomes the one he trains as his protégé and then partner. WOUNDED LIKE-MINDED FRIENDS.
REVELATIONS: The performances are strong with Plaza and Duplass as stand-outs. The screenplay weaves Jeff's journey back into the past through connecting with an old girlfriend against Darius's burgeoning respect and love for Kenneth as they fire pistols, run through the woods, break into low-level scientific installations searching for crucial pieces of the time machine. Washington state looks great, and the movie's humor moves easily. CONSTANT QUIET SURPRISES.
LOVED: I love the open-ended quality of the film including its wonderful ending. Kenneth is a singularly weird, possibly mental ill, possibly genius of a character, and Duplass's face is fresh and his work here is nomination-worthy. Johnson is annoying and crass, and his thread pays off in a rough, raw way. Overall, the plot takes its time, meanders and wanders. BEAUTIFUL AND SAD.
MISSES: I don't believe that the plot strand dealing with Arnau (and Jeff's influence over him) is as strongly sketched out, and Arnau's stakes as a character are simply never as strong as those of Jeff or Darius. I wish that the character was given more to do and say. And as much as I like Plaza's performance (her first lead, I believe), there's simply too many shots of her staring at Kenneth in meaningful ways versus speaking. I wanted her character to verbalize more of what she was undergoing, and her transformation lacks the power that I think the director was reaching for with her character. SOME UNREALIZED POTENTIAL.
TAKE-AWAYS: There is a simplicity to the premise of this film, to the want-ad's haiku-like poetic brilliance and its eternal relevance. On some level, the conceit of return is present in relationships and friendships as a person risks to find someone who will make them feel at home, safety, peace. Connections are not jokes; payment is never upfront or assured; the wealth of forging a friendship with another is unquantifiable; with everything, we always have to bring our own weapons, armor, issues, and defenses. Experience is overrated and uncertain; safety is never guaranteed in building a friendship, forging a connection, falling in love with someone. Safety is never guaranteed, but I do guarantee that this film will make you think, make you wonder at Mark Duplass's unguarded and sweet performance, make you smile. GUARANTEED YOU'LL THINK.
Here's my ad:
SAFETY NOT GUARANTEED: Wounded like-minded friends. Constant quiet surprises. Beautiful and sad. Some unrealized potential. Guaranteed you'll think. (THAT'S PRETTY AWESOME IN A SUMMER MOVIE!)
The Grey (2011)
Liam Neeson vs. The Wolves. Friggin' awesome!
The set-up for The Grey is classic: oil pipeline workers and their wolf-sniper-for-hire Ottway (Liam Neeson) in Alaska crash their airplane horrifically upon the frozen tundra, leaving bodies strewn across the horizon. Ottway's survival skills make him a natural leader post- crash, with a cadre of cagey characters left to negotiate survival against the elements. All the elements. Beyond the imminent blizzards and subzero temperatures, there are packs of ravenous, vicious violent wolves roaming around the edges of the frame. Big wolves. With sharp teeth. And no fear. There's talk of wolves being the only animals that "seek revenge" as well as the danger of being near the den of the wolves (not good). There's hunting and marking of territory. There's howling. There's wolves crushing human faces in their mouths. There's blood.
Carnahan's film is swiftly told and executed with plenty of genuine scares and surprises, and the film resembles a shark attack film where you wait for nature to take each character and winnow away the group in unsuspected ways while also containing elements of both The Edge and Alive (I particularly like that one character references Alive at one point). There's a Lost element to the first half hour, with some particularly nasty nihilistic dialogue and jokes as well as the imminent fear of wolf attacks. Always. Wolves are demonic forces in this film, unstoppable and omnipresent, indifferent to the maneuvers of the ever-dwindling pack of survivors who contemplate making a break for the tree line amidst a blizzard. Wallets of the dead are collected for their families. Ottway wrestles with his faith as well as his survival skills as they clash with the elements: thick snow, treacherous cliffs, chilling rivers. And the wolves. Oh, the wolves.
Liam Neeson holds the picture firmly in place with another strong, classic performance with gravitas and some seriously emotional catharsis. Has any actor displayed more incredible range of his generation than Neeson? Is there anything he cannot deliver? The list of roles includes Oskar Schindler, the dad from Love Actually, the dad from Taken, Qui-Gon Jinn, Hannibal from A-Team, Zeus, Henri Ducard in Batman Begins, as well as Alfred Kinsey from Kinsey and Priest Vallon from Gangs of New York. The guy has been Michael Collins, Rob Roy, Ethan Frome, and Aslan the lion. Here, his role most closely resembles a performance a few years back in a Civil War era chase survival film that I quite like, Seraphim Falls, with Neeson pursuing and being pursued by Pierce Brosnan. In this film, there are some glowing sequences with Ottway's wife in flashbacks that violently rip him back into reality upon waking, as well as some cogent discussions of fate, free will, and what it means to survive. Carnahan is not afraid to let there be quiet moments, examinations of photographs, as well as showing Neeson's craggy face, bloody and scratched, as he considers his ever-diminishing options.
In college, my American Literature Professor Lentz used to encourage us to write papers attempting degrees of difficulty, meaning there were paper topics that he considered significantly more challenging than others. You could get a higher grade for attempting a degree of difficulty on, say, Huck Finn or The Ambassadors. It was his acknowledgment that some papers involving wrestling with more challenging ideas, and that should be rewarded and encouraged. Some movies attempt more than others. Some play it safe. Some do not. Degree of difficulty is something that came to mind with this movie. Nearly every scene involves Neeson, the swirling snow, howling wind, as well as blood and actors wrapped up in ski masks and gloves. Carnahan's film feels oppressively cold, and although I didn't learn the names of the supporting characters, I liked some of the conflicts and philosophical debates as well as some of the gallows humor. In filming The Grey, Carnahan has taken on a degree of difficulty and delivered superlatively. It must have been an awful film to shoot.
A word about the wolves. There's some impressively used CGI, as well as quick movements from either side of the frame, long and terrifying shots of sprinting wolves, and pairs of demonic yellow eyes approaching from the darkness. I'm not sure how many of the wolves used in the film were real wolves, but they felt real. In close-ups, the downright nastiness of them was overpowering, but they didn't take me out of the film as much as visual effects sometimes do. Carnahan seems to be using the wolf pack tracking the men to represent a malevolent force, as the ticking of time itself, as emblematic of nature's elements and all that constantly works to destroy a person. I have never been as scared of wolves as I was watching this film.
The film's climactic final scene was riveting, and Neeson delivers the truth. I feel like it is impossible to witness Neeson in pain and emotional while remaining unmoved. I don't know if it is because of the personal tragedy that I know he has endured, or just because his face is so expressive and carries with it the remnants of his other characters with it. He brings baggage to a role in the best possible way. Wolves, watch out! Ferocious and bold, The Grey is a very good film with viciousness and harshness.
Alpa Howling.
Wolves Continue Howling.
(Wolves always continue howling.)
And do watch the film past the credits. Major degree of difficulty and one of the best films of 2012 so far.
Man on a Ledge (2012)
Australian on a Ledge: Fun and Forgettable
Man on a Ledge is exactly what it purports to be: a B-movie plot with an A-level cast with a fun concept that never really goes anywhere, and it doesn't leave much of an impression. But, it is a kinda fun ride.
Nick Cassidy (Sam Worthington), the titular man, stands on a 21st story ledge on a busy street in New Your City, grinding city traffic and business to a halt. A former cop who stages a daring escape during his father's burial at the cemetery, Cassidy requests a specific police officer, Lydia Mercer (Elizabeth Banks), to speak to while standing on the ledge, he makes few other demands, he keeps his cryptic motives to himself. Cassidy and Mercer build a rapport as helicopters swirl, tactical units prepare to descend on ropes from the roof, and a crowd gathers to watch the show.
Meanwhile, nefarious and reptilian real estate developer David Englander (Ed Harris) who put Cassidy in jail through a complicated frame-up involving a diamond watches the proceeding from his building next door to Cassidy's hotel. And, Cassidy's scrappy brother Joey (Jaime Bell) and the brother's fiesty girlfriend Angie (Genesis Rodriguez) find themselves wrapped up in the twisty-turny plot as well. And, throw in a NYPD officer with just the right amount of cynicism (Ed Burns) as well as a few other cops that maybe can be trusted. Without giving anything away, the man on the ledge is not what he appears to be.
But, the film is really what it appears to be: a fun idea, done with some style and some memorable scenes. Ultimately, this film is a stew of disparate parts with a rather dull performance from Worthington (whose Aussie accent fades in and out), a fine job by Banks, an underused Harris, a winning and flirtatious combination in Bell and Rodriguez (their scenes add some energy and banter), some outlandish plot twists, some cool stunt work, as well as some pretty elaborate break-in procedures and schemes. The film attempts some clumsy social relevance with the crowd on the street and the media coverage which doesn't entirely work. At times, I felt like I was watching an over-budgeted version of the Fox television show Prison Break. At others, I referenced Spike Lee's Manhattan bank robbery hostage thriller Inside Man, a much stronger film, with a much stronger script, with stronger performances and something interesting to say. Man on a Ledge doesn't have anything interesting to say, but it is perfectly harmless, perfectly watchable. And the ledge looks pretty sweet. Apparently, the actors were really up on a ledge with wires and supports hidden or edited out. Pretty fun stuff. But not too much fun.
Moonrise Kingdom (2012)
Over The Moon with Wes Anderson's latest
Being a Boy Scout for me was about a few basic things: learning how to survive away from home in far-away sounding places (Two Rivers, Herrick Lake, Big Timber, McDowell Woods), acting like an adult (or at least try to be one by swearing, cooking, telling jokes), forging friendships with guys older (Tom, Todd, Scott, Marc, Steve...) and younger (Nick, Jeff, Dave, Dan...) than me and also including my brothers (Dan, Pat), learning my place in the hierarchy of a patrol (Patrol Leader, Senior Patrol Leader, Troop Guide, Junior Assistant Scoutmaster) and learning my rank (Basic, Tenderfoot, Second Class, First Class, Star, Life, and Eagle), and hiking, swimming, chasing others, lighting fires, sharpening sticks, playing cards, and laughing. An aspect of Boy Scouting that I felt particularly drawn to included earning the merit badges with their panoply of textures and colors and skills displayed on my sash: Wilderness Survival, Personal Fitness, Scholarship, Mammal Study, Swimming...
Scouting, exploration, and hierarchy are all at the forefront of the new film Moonrise Kingdom. Appropriately, Wes Anderson's loving, meticulous, studied qualities as a filmmaker are in full display in Moonrise Kingdom with the island of New Penzance, of ancient trails, hidden inlets, precarious tree houses, and khaki scout badges plastered over waterfront walls. An extremely detailed review may ruin some of the movie's charms, so let me stick to the edges in my praise. Anderson's casting continues to be inspired: Edward Norton as Scout Master Ward, Harvey Keitel as his mentor Commander Pierce; Jared Gilman as troubled protagonist Sam, Bruce Willis as his mentor Island Police Captain Sharp; Kara Hayward as troubled protagonist Suzy and Bill Murray and Frances McDormand as her mentors and lawyer parents Walt and Laura Bishop. A narrator is played by Bob Balaban with great fun. A troop of aptly named khaki scouts delight in their roles: Roosevelt, Lazy-Eye, Nickleby, Panagle, Deluca to name a few. On the surface, this film concerns two kids running away and falling in love, and it concerns survival in all of its forms as both young Sam and Suzy break ranks with their respective troops and meet for an exploration of epic proportions in Anderson's self- contained universe, each with his or her respective baggage (quite literally for Suzy who brings a suitcase of her favorite books with her to read at night and a kitten). Sam with his coonskin hat, thick glasses, and encyclopedic knowledge of camping, smokes a corncob pipe of sorts, listening intently to Suzy read, telling her when she pauses after removing his pipe, "Go on. I'm listening." Naturally, both family and scouts pursue them with both hilarious and violent results. A massive storm is brewing off the coast of the island.
Anderson's filmmaking resembles the orchestra that bookends the film. With a wonderful premise, Anderson adds phenomenal sets (Suzy's house, Scout Master Ward's tent) to innovative art direction (fonts for signs, Norman Rockwell-ish lighthouses and colors, neckerchiefs and badges that look and feel just right), as well as wonderfully well-chosen disparate music. Each performance (a quietly sad Bruce Willis, a straightforward and rebellious Jared Gilman and Kara Hayward, a wonderfully bossy Jason Schwartzman as Cousin Ben) is like an instrument added to the concert, playing a variation on the orchestral theme, separate and distinct yet unified to the overall piece. Anderson uses maps, handwritten letters, typewriters, badges, and costumes to add a texture to this film, a feel for it that jumps off the screen. He builds musically, fully integrating bugles and camp songs with Hank Williams, French songs, and classical. He never condescends to his lead characters or gives them simple arcs. Finding a pamphlet entitled "Coping with your Troubled Child," thinking that you're weird is a terrifying thing for anyone. Suzy and Sam resist easy answers.
A great film, like a great scout troop like mine, is a concert of voices, attitudes, fears, talents, and laughter. Each person, each instrument, each shot sequence does a variation on the theme, a repetition, a development, a connection. Wes Anderson's filmmaking embodies this fugue state, fully capturing the anarchic sense of young boys wandering the woods with weapons, the hierarchy of communities like families and troops, the heartbreak of a Scout Master forced to discipline while also acknowledging commendation (a wonderful moment with Edward Norton), as well as people (including the adults) not feeling at home anywhere and searching for the maps and compasses to navigate their ways. There were times in my life when I felt sanctuary while camping, while being around other scouts and the leaders, while being alone in the woods, while inching across a frozen river on two stretched cables, while earning Canoeing merit badge, Reading, Cooking, Environmental Science, Orienteering...
Moonrise Kingdom is the best film of 2012 so far. Go on, Wes Anderson. I'm listening.
J. Edgar (2011)
J. Edgar + L. DiCaprio + C. Eastwood = A Misfire
With the pedigree of Leonardo DiCaprio, Naomi Watts, Armie Hammer, and Judi Dench, with the cachet of Oscar-winning director Clint Eastwood and Oscar-winning screenwriter Dustin Lance Black, and the tantalizing subject of one of America's most secretive public figures debunked, the film J. Edgar collapses under the weight of its own self-importance, pounds of garish make-up, and its unwieldy focus on the eponymous subject.
Clint Eastwood begins the film with promise: the (unknown to me) 1919 Bolshevik bombings of American houses and Senators, a coordinated attack of great power and a precursor of later day terrorism, which scars a young Edgar as he bikes by the carnage and picks up the leaflets left by the attackers. DiCaprio's Edgar is a go-getter in the Bureau, a momma's boy who is fastidious about his wardrobe and socially awkward with a nervous stutter, yet conniving and relentless in his myopic pursuit of what he wants A botched marriage proposal to secretary Helen Gandy (Naomi Watts) results in a lifetime commitment as his personal secretary and keeper of secrets. Dinner every night with Mother (Judi Dench) influences Edgar's clothing and philosophies, as well as his self-loathing and guilt. Friendship with Clyde Tolson (Armie Hammer) reveals him to be the crush that Edgar hires impulsively as Assistant Director and befriends while rebuilding the Bureau's reputation and his own wardrobe. As a frame narrative, Eastwood shows an army of young male agents helping Edgar type his life story which is intertwined with the history of the Bureau and the rise of forensic science. For as much time as Edgar is shown to be a visionary of law enforcement with his prescient belief in the integration of science into their work such as fingerprinting, Eastwood gives at least twice as much focus to Edgar's bloated, reptilian face and his waddling to the window during inaugurations as well as his cryptic blackmailing of presidents with his infamous files. There's a lack of balance or just priority in this film. For example, so much time is given to the Lindergh case, but without context, emotion, and clarity it is difficult to tell how the case enraptured the public's attention, the time frame of the kidnapping and its investigation, the aftermath of its resolution. Edgar rushes a federal law into place post Lindbergh kidnapping which Clint Eastwood seems to be drawing comparison to the Patriot Act, yet was making kidnapping a federal crime an example of overreach or just good politics? Edgar menacingly states that rules have to be bent to find the criminals, and there's the implication that the Lindbergh killer may not even be guilty. He seems to push for profiling and wire-tapping, all post-9-11 hot topics, though he stops the brutal beating of a suspect at one point, suggesting a disgust for violence? Yet beyond these surface comparisons to modern day America, I'm not sure where Eastwood is going with this. The film lacks the conviction to do much with Edgar's repressed sexuality and his close friendship with Clyde Tolson beyond hint and dodge. A mid-film throw-down fight is welcome for its change of pace, but the blending of past and present becomes tiresome and artless, draining the film of any momentum or sense of time. And a final scene loses any dramatic power, though a quotation chosen to end the film is intriguing.
However fun it is to consider the role of a public figure who served under eight presidents (Just consider the sheer jumps in technology and law enforcement from Presidents Hoover through Nixon!), ultimately, J. Edgar chooses not to go deep into Edgar's obviously haunted psyche, what drove him to such lengths, his obsession with using Hollywood and the G-Man image to project his will on the American public, or his thirst for power. How much of his actions are self-loathing? How did Edgar personally reconcile his own hypocrisy with his pursuit of hypocritical public figures? Did religion play a part at all in his inner-life?
That is not to say that there is not a great movie in here somewhere. J. Edgar Hoover remains a captivating 20th Century figure, a contradictory tragic hero, one seemingly shaped by Bolshevik attacks on American soil which infused his paranoia and obsession. I think that J. Edgar Hoover deserves a more thoughtful film with a better script. And none of the cast benefits from the pounds of garish make-up that they wear for more than half the film. I wonder if it would have been better to cast older actors and actresses instead of piling on the receding hairlines, the liver spots, the paunch, and the neck wrinkles to stars DiCaprio, Watts, and Hammer? If your movie is going to require more than half of its running time with your stars hidden under latex and make-up, when does that decision ultimately hamper a younger actor or actress? I like all three performances, and I wonder why DiCaprio was not nominated for Best Actor. I just simply might not be a great performance from him. I wonder how it stacks up against Meryl Streep's Oscar-winning performance as Margaret Thatcher in The Iron Lady. A disappointing misfire.
Ted (2012)
There's Just Something About Ted
My admiration for Ted begins with the narration of a young boy wishing his Christmas gift teddy bear would become alive, his real best friend, and the ramifications of that wish coming true. A stentorian Patrick Stewart narrates as John Bennet meets Ted, his best friend forever and thunder buddy, John's parents freak out rather wonderfully in the kitchen at the sight of a walking and talking stuffed animal, and the opening pre-title sequence culminates in Ted becoming a celebrity and appearing Forrest Gump-like on Johnny Carson's show before, as Stewart tells us, pretty much everyone got used to him and stopped making it such a big deal. Roll titles with hilarious photographs in place of plot.
A 35-year old rental car employee John Bennet (Mark Wahlberg) and his PR executive girlfriend Lori Collins (Mila Kunis) begin the film struggling to find balance within their lives while living with Ted. Ted drinks, smokes up, hires prostitutes, and pretty much serves as mouthpiece for anything graphically sexual, virulently racist, or homophobic, and a his mouth spews a fountain of eighties and nineties references; his influence over John leads to conflict as John misses work, is late for work, still shares a bed and hilarious chanting ritual whenever thunder sounds. As voiced by MacFarlane himself, what Ted lacks in facial expression he more than compensates for in verbal acuity and acidity. Most of the joy of the first portion of this film consists of the incongruity of the visual of a kid's teddy bear spouting racist, homophobic, and sexist comments in a matter-of-fact manner. Very little is taboo, and part of the fun is trying to guess what Ted is going to say next.
So, in order to appease Lori, Ted moves out, gets a job at a local grocery store where his inappropriate behavior keeps getting rewarded, and struggles living without John. They both stay in touch, with Ted calling John to come over to his place to get hight instead of working his job, with a double-date that goes awry featuring Ted's new girlfriend, as well as an eventual chaotic party at Ted's new pad. Said party forces John to choose between a work- related shindig with Lori's predatory and slimy boss Rex (Joel McHale) or Ted's wild bash featuring an icon from both of their childhoods. The party sequence seems to be the centerpiece of the film, with Ted eviscerating Hootie and the Blowfish (as well as most of 90's pop rock) with supporting fights, cocaine, and hilarious one-liners. John's choice to attend the party and the consequences of that act drive the rest of the film, as does a bizarre subplot involving a deranged stalker named Donny (a creepily effective Giovanni Ribisi) who wants to buy Ted for his deranged son.
Wahlberg is winning in this film, a highlight being his offering a litany of white-trash names for Ted's girlfriend that brought the house down. Wahlberg rattles off over 25 names in one take before adding the second layer to the joke and repeating. Although I think Wahlberg's best role ever is that other Boston film The DeParted, his performance is great here, as he does not get swallowed up by a visual effect. MacFarlane's Ted fires up shot after shot, many of them layups, but there are occasional three-pointers of hilarity, and the consistent effort pays off with most shots going in (Ed McMahon thought Ted was Alf; a Teddy Ruxpin crack results in a three minute Kill-Bill style thrashing of an apartment with Ted punching John in the face, repeatedly; a 9-11 reference still catches the breath for its audacity or rarity). Ribisi brings the right level of creep to his role, and both Lori and John's work friends seem poised for more minutes of screen time but never get it. The film races to its inevitable conclusion with a Norah Jones concert as well as a chase scene ending up on the tower above the Green Monster at Fenway (Shouldn't that park be better guarded than it is, considering its role in this film and The Town?). A final joke at the end goes over extremely well and is offensive.
When John recalls a memory of first meeting Lori, and the film flashes back to him as the white-uniformed lead from Airplane! in the dance spoof scene of Saturday Night Fever, the moment works on level after hilarious level. I enjoyed laughing at the reference within a reference, but I realize that not everyone, particularly those younger than me, will get that reference. And it is funny even without understanding the reference of Mark Wahlberg as Ted Striker as Tony Manero. I like being able to get most of the references, though I'll admit to being lost with the Flash Gordon worship.
And therein lie the strengths of this film. A willingness to throw joke after joke up with many of them sticking. An affinity for transgressive humor though not as bodily-focused as a Farrelly Brothers film. A skillful glee in referencing 80's and 90's culture (at one point, Ted grabs his torn arm from behind a doorway ala Indiana Jones, with just a line of John Williams' score). An assembly of really good actors who look like they're having fun. An off-the-wall, anarchic sense of play and that nearly anything goes. A fully realized commitment to having Ted be a character, not a visual effect. Impressively, Ted focuses on the character's statements more than his actions.
Three stars is a strong rating. I had fun watching this movie, and I would watch it again. I think some of the surprise and shock will dissipate and some of the weaknesses of the story might become more glaring. But there were enough shining moments for me to recommend this film. And the few cameos, another staple of the comedy, are handled well.
Seeking a Friend for the End of the World (2012)
Seeking a Better Movie for this Concept (or go rent Joe Versus The Volcano)
Shame on the director. A promising concept of imminent apocalypse which could be mined for great humor and pathos results in a messy road trip romance film with either miscast lead actors or just severe lack of chemistry, a sloppy script, and an avoidance of nearly everything that might make such a scenario interesting, funny, or terrifying.
It's the end of the world as they know it, and everyone does not feel fine. People react differently to the news that the asteroid that will incinerate all is headed towards earth in three weeks, and the final space mission could not deflect it from its path (I guess Bruce Willis and the Armageddon-crew failed). In the inspired opening shot, Dodge (Steve Carell) listens, transfixed and unemotional, to the broadcast on his car radio; Nancy, his wife (played by Carell's real-life wife), opens the door and runs off into the night without saying a word. Dodge slouches towards destruction, returning to his apartment, sticking to his routine. As the asteroid approaches, Dodge's cleaning lady keeps showing up to work, confused by Dodge's attempt to tell her that her services won't be needed. Dodge remains one of the few workers left at his insurance company, answering distressed calls, throwing up into his garbage can, and enduring quasi-hilarious staff meetings of five people where a supervisor asks, "Anyone want to be a CFO?" Dodge fights traffic. Dodge attends apocalyptic parties with his friends who curse at each other and their children, press young children into drinking martinis and shots, do heroin as a bucket list item, and clumsily throw themselves at each other. Nothing seems to wake Dodge out of his torpor.
A jolt arrives when Dodge's unknown neighbor Penny (Keira Knightley) cries on the fire escape outside of his apartment, seemingly trapped in a contentious relationship, and struggling because she has missed the last trans-Atlantic flight home to her loving parents in Surrey, England. Dodge's attempt to comfort her results in a hug and an establishment of trust:"I won't rob you if you agree not to rape me," offers Penny, and Dodge agrees. As it turns out, she has been collecting his mail and has a letter from the woman who got away, his high school love; her hoarding of his mail has resulted in him not getting the letter which seems to intimate that there is a possibility of reconnection. Anarchy erupts on their street below, and as Dodge and Penny escape on a road trip, he agrees to find her a flight home to die with her family if she helps him find his lost love (I guess because she has the car?). Seeking a Friend for the End of the World then turns into a road trip movie.
My problems with this film are myriad. It squanders two excellent actors (as well as a supporting cast of note) by giving them very little to do. Knightley is especially egregious as I found her performance as a Manic Pixie Dream Girl (a term coined by AV Club writer Nathan Rabin to describe this particular archetype) increasingly annoying and unlikable. But, let's not give Steve Carell a pass, who seems to have taken his career and tried to turn it into latter- day Bill Murray with less is more, somnolent, increasingly depressing performances. His arc is even more frustrating, and his performance is ultimately a misfire. The screenplay is wildly inconsistent with titanic rifts between characters healed in less than two minutes of screen time as well as unexplained plot points and clichéd dialogue. The streets that they travel (New Jersey by way of California? Camden has never looked this nice!) are remarkably unlittered and free of looters or those without cars who would want to take their car. And this film is just free of people. Where are all the people? Is everyone at the beach? Does everyone has access to underground bunkers? Are churches overflowing? What is the government's position? Where is the president? Too many questions like these are not even considered in this film.
I wish that director Lorene Scafaria had committed to a darker or funnier vision for this film, one of anarchic moments and unconventional pairings of characters and philosophies. Is it wrong to expect someone in a film about the end of the world to consider (even if it is to ultimately ignore or reject) faith? It is it wrong to consider that some people will use the remaining days to destroy and take whatever they want? (Case in point: the scene in Steven Soderbergh's Contagion where Matt Damon's character watches thieves break into his neighbor's house is infinitely more chilling and real than anything in this film.) Is it wrong to want either character, Dodge or Penny, to exist beyond the confines of a screenplay? Instead, there's a sappy, clichéd film that cheats its audience out of potentially rich and moving scenarios and an adult exploration of how people would approach their imminent destruction. He's dodging life, and she's his lucky penny? Really?
Seeking a Friend for the End of the World might have been a better movie if it focused on the dog tied to Dodge's leg. For my money, I'd rent Joe Verus The Volcano with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan for a similarly themed, but much more well-executed, moving, and funny story about the end of one man's world. Dodge this one.