The Rocker is a prime example of what happens when talented people are paired with utterly pedestrian material. This story of an aging rocker (more of a “never-been” than a “has-been”) who finds redemption by joining his nephew’s garage band (called A.D.D.), is just plain uneven. Many of the performances, and some of the writing, are sharp and memorable, but this cannot erase the fact that much of the story is derivative and, worse, a bit boring.
Rainn Wilson plays the eponymous rocker (real name Robert 'Fish' Fishman) with a great combination of earnestness, self-delusion and bizarre-itude unlikely to be conjured by another performer. This role gives Wilson a chance to prove that he does not have to play idiosyncratic second banana roles on the big screen (My Super Ex-Girlfriend was not worthy of his talents). Wilson carries a unique energy that is far more nuanced than say Will Farrell or even Jack Black. Killer work is also put in by Jason Sudekis (whose turn as the band’s manager takes being a douchebag to unexplored and hilarious heights) and Christina Applegate as the mother of A.D.D.s frontman (Applegate needs to recognized as a great comedic performer by everyone, right now).
The teens in the movie, however, don’t quite hold up their end of the film. Emma Stone (Superbad) is a promising young star but this is her least interesting performance to date. Josh Gad plays Fish’s nephew with a certain degree of comic grace but has inserted too many Jonah Hill-isms to make it an original work. The least intriguing of these young actors, Teddy Gieger, gets the most to work with as the band’s dreamy/brooding lead singer. The trouble is Geiger fails to brood or to make us dream about him even a little.
Beyond the performances, The Rocker feels structurally uneven as well. The story of A.D.D. feels like something that didn’t pass muster at Nickelodeon so a more adult comedy was superimposed on top of it. The great writing in the film’s stands out because it is surrounded by so much that borders on dreck. It is fashionable these days to put a certain degree of heart into Hollywood comedies (a trend that does not necessarily need to be endorsed). The Rocker's attempt at pathos seems so contrived (the audience can feel themselves entering a “touching” scene) it makes one yearn for the tenderness of even School of Rock. As with many films that surround fictional bands, the music is so lame that the notion of the group making it big is simply not believable.
So Rainn Wilson will have to wait a bit longer before he gets his breakout picture. If you want a completely satisfying movie, you will have to wait a bit longer as well.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Pineapple Express: The story of the love between a man and his dealer
Screenwriters Seth Rogan and Evan Goldberg have the heterosexual male love story market cornered. Last summer’s Superbad explored what happens when two high school guys realize they love each other over the course of one crazy evening. Pineapple Express follows a very similar story arc except this time it is the love shared between schlubby stoner Dale (Rogan) and his dealer Saul (James Franco). Just as in Superbad the duo bond, have misadventures, fight, and reunite; only this time there is the added element of wacky tobaccy to enhance their experience and impede their progress.
Unlike those in Superbad, the misadventures found here tend to be full of violent activity. The refreshing part is that nearly all of the violence comes with consequences. There is no panache or swagger in the scrapes that Saul and Dale find themselves in, just a lot of pain and awkwardness. Director David Gordon Green is careful to never dip into slapstick. The violence is funny because it is so real. The viewer knows that an actual fight amongst normal dudes would look way more like Pineapple Express than something out of Under Siege.
The real draw of the film is James Franco. At first his stoner shtick is funny because he is cast against his normal dashing type; soon his shtick is funny because he is talented. Too many of the current crop of comedians simply rely on their personalities for a laugh. Franco actually uses acting skills to bring Saul Silver to life. This gives the film a nuance not found in many Judd Apatow produced movies(yes the uber-producer found time to put his name on this picture as well) where a great deal of fun is had by the actors and only some of that is transferred over to the audience. Franco shines opposite Rogan who, while still lovable and hilarious, is playing the same guy from Knocked Up, 40-Year Old Virgin, and Superbad.
Rogan more than makes up for his minimal range with his skills as a writer. This script has a seemingly endless number of killer lines and winning moments. He and Goldberg have a lighter touch than Apatow; both the raunch and the sentiment seem more realistic and palpable. The scenarios the characters find themselves in don’t seem forced to create a laugh (as is the case in the Harold and Kumar movies). The comedy comes from small moments and reactions that come across as genuine. Besides writing an out-of-place and over-the-top role for Ed Begley Jr. (as the father of Dale’s girlfriend) and an end sequence that drags past the point of interest, these young writers have produced another wonderful script. Pineapple Express may be the closest thing to a truly enjoyable romantic comedy to be produced in years.
Unlike those in Superbad, the misadventures found here tend to be full of violent activity. The refreshing part is that nearly all of the violence comes with consequences. There is no panache or swagger in the scrapes that Saul and Dale find themselves in, just a lot of pain and awkwardness. Director David Gordon Green is careful to never dip into slapstick. The violence is funny because it is so real. The viewer knows that an actual fight amongst normal dudes would look way more like Pineapple Express than something out of Under Siege.
The real draw of the film is James Franco. At first his stoner shtick is funny because he is cast against his normal dashing type; soon his shtick is funny because he is talented. Too many of the current crop of comedians simply rely on their personalities for a laugh. Franco actually uses acting skills to bring Saul Silver to life. This gives the film a nuance not found in many Judd Apatow produced movies(yes the uber-producer found time to put his name on this picture as well) where a great deal of fun is had by the actors and only some of that is transferred over to the audience. Franco shines opposite Rogan who, while still lovable and hilarious, is playing the same guy from Knocked Up, 40-Year Old Virgin, and Superbad.
Rogan more than makes up for his minimal range with his skills as a writer. This script has a seemingly endless number of killer lines and winning moments. He and Goldberg have a lighter touch than Apatow; both the raunch and the sentiment seem more realistic and palpable. The scenarios the characters find themselves in don’t seem forced to create a laugh (as is the case in the Harold and Kumar movies). The comedy comes from small moments and reactions that come across as genuine. Besides writing an out-of-place and over-the-top role for Ed Begley Jr. (as the father of Dale’s girlfriend) and an end sequence that drags past the point of interest, these young writers have produced another wonderful script. Pineapple Express may be the closest thing to a truly enjoyable romantic comedy to be produced in years.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
The Dark Knight
Midway through The Dark Knight, the Joker reveals why the knife, not the gun, is his weapon of choice. He explains that, with a knife you get to slow down, take a closer look, and really see what your enemy is made of. It is as if Christopher Nolan and his crew followed this same creed when making their movie. They have slowed down the superhero movie, even more so than with Batman Begins, so that the audience can take a closer look at each character and get to know what each is made of.
To make a character driven summer blockbuster is a bold decision, what with the millions of dollars spent and a franchise on the line. The effect however, is rather remarkable. It is the interplay between the actors that stands out as far more memorable than any particular action sequence (most of the explosions prominently displayed in the preview are spread quite tastefully throughout the movie). The mood cast is so ominous and dark that all of merchandising tie-ins don’t quite fit.
Such a film requires above average talent in front of the camera and most of the actors thrive in this picture. Heath Ledger is given the space to convey exactly how terrifying it would be to have a scarred (physically and emotionally) lunatic in clown make-up loose in your city. Much has been written about the power of Leger’s final complete performance, but it remains a revelation in spite of the hype. Given the chance to play the most iconic comic book villain ever, he simply took the role and ran to further, deeper, creepier places than any other actor in the genre. Ever.
In the rush to praise Ledger, Aaron Eckhart’s performance as district attorney Harvey Dent should not go unnoticed. The movie hinges on the continuum between good and evil with Batman on one end and the Joker on the other; Harvey is unfortunately caught in the middle. Eckhart plays the fall from grace well exuding equal parts charisma and chaos. It is not often that an actor playing the “other man” (Dent has taken up with Bruce Wayne’s ex Rachel Dawes) can pull such sympathy from the audience. This feeling remains even as Dent travels down a very dark path.
The actor who has the least to work with is Christian Bale, the man playing the titular role. Bale plays Bruce Wayne and his alter ego with the same complexity as seen in the first movie (though why he uses that weird husky voice as Batman is still unanswered; perhaps that is what the third installment is all about) but his character doesn’t really change or progress in The Dark Knight. It is as if Nolan was more interested in exploring the newly introduced characters and Batman was just a conduit for this to be done.
This unevenness can be seen in other aspects of the film. There were points where the filmmakers missed the mark regarding what the audience needed or wanted in this film. Some minor characters were given way too much screen (no one cares that much about Commissioner Gordon’s family). There is a completely superfluous trip to Hong Kong taken early in the movie that adds nothing to the narrative (seriously, if someone can explain why this segment was needed I will give you $1.50). All of this could have been jettisoned for more face-to-face time between Batman and the Joker.
Much like Iron Man, The Dark Knight shows us what can happen when smart people are put in charge of huge blockbuster movies. The result can be thought provoking, entertaining, but most importantly satisfying. In the next few years there will be dozens of superhero releases in theaters. One can only hope that at least some of these filmmakers will approach their work with a knife instead of a gun.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Hancock
The best fantasy stories are those that do not disconnect from real life. What makes, for example,Night of the Living Dead so great is that it does not transport you to another world. Instead it attempts to seriously answer the question, "how would ordinary Americans respond to waking up in a world surrounded by brain munching zombies?" One fantastical element has been introduced into a world that is otherwise frighteningly similar to our own. This guarantees a connection between the audience and the story that is absent when the movie is shot on location in Middle Earth or Tatooine.
Director Peter Berg and screenwriters Vincent Ngo and Vince Gillian have locked onto this concept with Hancock. The questions they pose are, “What would it be like if an American city had a resident with superpowers?” and “What would be the psychological effects of those powers on that resident?” Their film is not set in Metropolis or Gotham City but in a very real Los Angeles filled with haters, media pundits, and lawyers all who have a problem with their city’s “hero.” The “hero” himself, John Hancock (Will Smith), isn’t blessed with the mental/social/emotional fortitude that the real life of a superhero would entail. He hits the bottle hard (this is perhaps the first film in which FUI, Flying Under the Influence is captured, to hilarious effect), has trouble relating to the normals he protects, and lives the life of a vagabond (in the real world it would be hard for such a person to make a living).
Toying with this concept keeps the first two-thirds of Hancock afloat with great success. By keeping the usual villains and explosions fair to a minimum, time is instead spent ruminating on how the private life of a super human would be quite melancholy. This is helped by a strong performance from Smith, who uses more of the pathos honed in Ali and Pursuit of Happyness than his usual 4th of July bravado to win the audience over. This is no easy feat as Hancock begins the film as possibly the least likable superhero in recent memory. Smith has great chemistry with Jason Bateman whose PR guy takes Hancock as a client to capitalize on America’s love for an extreme makeover. Their banter produces many of the movies best laughs.
As the Hancock progresses and begins to resemble other superhero stories it becomes a bit less interesting. It is as if Berg and his team couldn’t resist the temptation of creating an end product with at least some franchise and Happy Meal potential. This does not distract from the fact that this movie dared to do what needs to be done in the oversaturated superhero genre: take it somewhere new. We do not need any more origin stories or montages showing the creation of your super suit. It has been done. Movies like Hancock have the ability to keep the genre viable and interesting for years to come.
Director Peter Berg and screenwriters Vincent Ngo and Vince Gillian have locked onto this concept with Hancock. The questions they pose are, “What would it be like if an American city had a resident with superpowers?” and “What would be the psychological effects of those powers on that resident?” Their film is not set in Metropolis or Gotham City but in a very real Los Angeles filled with haters, media pundits, and lawyers all who have a problem with their city’s “hero.” The “hero” himself, John Hancock (Will Smith), isn’t blessed with the mental/social/emotional fortitude that the real life of a superhero would entail. He hits the bottle hard (this is perhaps the first film in which FUI, Flying Under the Influence is captured, to hilarious effect), has trouble relating to the normals he protects, and lives the life of a vagabond (in the real world it would be hard for such a person to make a living).
Toying with this concept keeps the first two-thirds of Hancock afloat with great success. By keeping the usual villains and explosions fair to a minimum, time is instead spent ruminating on how the private life of a super human would be quite melancholy. This is helped by a strong performance from Smith, who uses more of the pathos honed in Ali and Pursuit of Happyness than his usual 4th of July bravado to win the audience over. This is no easy feat as Hancock begins the film as possibly the least likable superhero in recent memory. Smith has great chemistry with Jason Bateman whose PR guy takes Hancock as a client to capitalize on America’s love for an extreme makeover. Their banter produces many of the movies best laughs.
As the Hancock progresses and begins to resemble other superhero stories it becomes a bit less interesting. It is as if Berg and his team couldn’t resist the temptation of creating an end product with at least some franchise and Happy Meal potential. This does not distract from the fact that this movie dared to do what needs to be done in the oversaturated superhero genre: take it somewhere new. We do not need any more origin stories or montages showing the creation of your super suit. It has been done. Movies like Hancock have the ability to keep the genre viable and interesting for years to come.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Wanted, but not by me
At the beginning of the month I vowed not to see Wanted along with several other movies I knew would put me into a depression that no one needs in July. As soon as those words were posted in cyberspace, I began hearing positive things about Wanted, particularly from Public Radio’s David Edelstein (listen to his review here). So I broke down and went to see what the, albeit minor, buzz was about.
We all know them, perhaps they are our coworkers, or even our relatives. We all know the individuals who do their jobs so poorly that whenever they show even a glimmer of competence, they are showered with praise. These people have learned a very important life lesson and have taken it to heart: lower the expectations and you will be praised for mediocrity.
Wanted seems to follow the same maxim. What is essentially a heartless mash up of The Matrix, Fight Club, Office Space, and a little more Matrix, is peppered with a few glimmers fun, ingenuity, and panache. The rest of the movie is so dreadful that these moments stand out and undoubtedly lead to the positive feelings of movie goers.
Let’s examine the dreadful parts of the movie. James McAvoy puts a great deal of effort into keeping down his Celtic accent and is successful maybe seventy-six percent of the time. Angelina Jolie is so spindly skinny that it becomes distracting (if she keeps on this emaciating path the only role she will be able to land will be that of one of those haunted trees that live mythic forests) and the flatness of her delivery is supposed to be cool but it is just flat. Much of the dialogue is babble compiled from other films (some of the writing seems to be cribbed from movies that weren’t even that good) and it is all delivered without the slightest conviction by any of the actors. Morgan Freeman doesn’t seem to think that his role as an Obi-Wan like master assassin requires anything different than his roles as Batman’s weapons maker, Tim Robbins cell mate, or a comet-fighting president.
But just as these elements drive Wanted to the point of unwatchability, there comes a moment of mild creativity, usually in the form of an action sequence or sight gag, and the audience breathes a sigh of relief. These moments stand in such stark contrast to the majority of the film that they begin to define it. Like that one year that your dead beat cousin remembered to call grandma on her birthday, it is these moments that live on in the memory of the viewer.
A similar movie that conjures up more positive memories is Shoot ‘em Up (check out my thoughts here) which is available on DVD.
We all know them, perhaps they are our coworkers, or even our relatives. We all know the individuals who do their jobs so poorly that whenever they show even a glimmer of competence, they are showered with praise. These people have learned a very important life lesson and have taken it to heart: lower the expectations and you will be praised for mediocrity.
Wanted seems to follow the same maxim. What is essentially a heartless mash up of The Matrix, Fight Club, Office Space, and a little more Matrix, is peppered with a few glimmers fun, ingenuity, and panache. The rest of the movie is so dreadful that these moments stand out and undoubtedly lead to the positive feelings of movie goers.
Let’s examine the dreadful parts of the movie. James McAvoy puts a great deal of effort into keeping down his Celtic accent and is successful maybe seventy-six percent of the time. Angelina Jolie is so spindly skinny that it becomes distracting (if she keeps on this emaciating path the only role she will be able to land will be that of one of those haunted trees that live mythic forests) and the flatness of her delivery is supposed to be cool but it is just flat. Much of the dialogue is babble compiled from other films (some of the writing seems to be cribbed from movies that weren’t even that good) and it is all delivered without the slightest conviction by any of the actors. Morgan Freeman doesn’t seem to think that his role as an Obi-Wan like master assassin requires anything different than his roles as Batman’s weapons maker, Tim Robbins cell mate, or a comet-fighting president.
But just as these elements drive Wanted to the point of unwatchability, there comes a moment of mild creativity, usually in the form of an action sequence or sight gag, and the audience breathes a sigh of relief. These moments stand in such stark contrast to the majority of the film that they begin to define it. Like that one year that your dead beat cousin remembered to call grandma on her birthday, it is these moments that live on in the memory of the viewer.
A similar movie that conjures up more positive memories is Shoot ‘em Up (check out my thoughts here) which is available on DVD.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Hellboy II: The Golden Army
The comic book universe is a visual universe. Without comparable visual creativity and skill, a comic book movie falls flat (see the Joel Schumacher Batman movies for evidence of this). This is certainly not the problem with either of Guillermo del Toro’s Hellboy pictures; in fact the films may actually improved upon Mike Mignola’s 2-D incarnation. The titular character (a demon raised by humans to defend against various mythical nair do wells) and his team of misfit crime fighters come to life in a way that the Hulk, for example, never has. The trouble with Hellboy II: The Golden Army is once the visual spectacle is realized, the filmmakers offer us little else in the way of character depth, creative plot, or captivating dialogue.
Hellboy II is a glorious ode to cinema's “creature features” with homages to Ray Harryhausen’s Jason and the Argonauts, Jim Henson’s Dark Crystal and Labyrinth, George Lucas’ Star Wars, and James Whale’s Bride of Frankenstein (a tie-in which surely made the suits at Universal happy). del Toro’s cast of stunning beasts proves that there is plenty of wallop still to be had in using old fashioned make up, prosthetics, animatronics, and miniature models in lieu of a constant barrage of computer generations(stick around for the credits to see how many artists it took to create the creatures and you can see why many filmmakers have become addicted to CGI). It is with these visually bizarre characters that del Toro has the most fun and that exuberance captures the audience as well.
Perhaps del Toro got so deep into his role as monster maker that his roles as storyteller and, particularly, screenwriter fell by the wayside. The film lacks a uniform feel. The first third of the movie oscillates between knock off versions of Men in Black and Lord of the Rings. Once it finds its footing the ridiculously derivative plot (which includes bringing three pieces of a crown together, an evil twin, a quest for the salvation of humanity etc.) and Dungeons-and Dragons-quality dialogue (viewers should prepare for long passages spoken in Elvish)drag the movie into the relm of the uninteresting. Aside from a few choice one liners, the sharp humor of the original movie does not shine so brightly on this go around. Hellboy’s gruff-guy-with-a-tenderness-for-cats scthick was wearing thin by the end of movie one and its charm is utterly gone by hour two of The Golden Army.
A great deal of energy is spent in this movie setting up a third installment of the Hellboy franchise. What appeared to be the theme of the film (Hellboy grappling with the fact that the human race he has given everything to protect will never embrace him) is not quite tackled head on. Instead there are several allusions that this will be the subject of the next film. In past experience (i.e. the Back to the Future or Pirates of the Caribbean movies), committing so much time in one movie to “set up” another usually becomes detrimental to both. Though, it is certain that Hellboy III will be replete with enough jaw dropping spectacle to arouse interest, no matter how lacking it is in the story department.
Hellboy II is a glorious ode to cinema's “creature features” with homages to Ray Harryhausen’s Jason and the Argonauts, Jim Henson’s Dark Crystal and Labyrinth, George Lucas’ Star Wars, and James Whale’s Bride of Frankenstein (a tie-in which surely made the suits at Universal happy). del Toro’s cast of stunning beasts proves that there is plenty of wallop still to be had in using old fashioned make up, prosthetics, animatronics, and miniature models in lieu of a constant barrage of computer generations(stick around for the credits to see how many artists it took to create the creatures and you can see why many filmmakers have become addicted to CGI). It is with these visually bizarre characters that del Toro has the most fun and that exuberance captures the audience as well.
Perhaps del Toro got so deep into his role as monster maker that his roles as storyteller and, particularly, screenwriter fell by the wayside. The film lacks a uniform feel. The first third of the movie oscillates between knock off versions of Men in Black and Lord of the Rings. Once it finds its footing the ridiculously derivative plot (which includes bringing three pieces of a crown together, an evil twin, a quest for the salvation of humanity etc.) and Dungeons-and Dragons-quality dialogue (viewers should prepare for long passages spoken in Elvish)drag the movie into the relm of the uninteresting. Aside from a few choice one liners, the sharp humor of the original movie does not shine so brightly on this go around. Hellboy’s gruff-guy-with-a-tenderness-for-cats scthick was wearing thin by the end of movie one and its charm is utterly gone by hour two of The Golden Army.
A great deal of energy is spent in this movie setting up a third installment of the Hellboy franchise. What appeared to be the theme of the film (Hellboy grappling with the fact that the human race he has given everything to protect will never embrace him) is not quite tackled head on. Instead there are several allusions that this will be the subject of the next film. In past experience (i.e. the Back to the Future or Pirates of the Caribbean movies), committing so much time in one movie to “set up” another usually becomes detrimental to both. Though, it is certain that Hellboy III will be replete with enough jaw dropping spectacle to arouse interest, no matter how lacking it is in the story department.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Summertime Blues
On the eve of the second holiday weekend of the summer season, it feels right to take stock of where we stand as movie goers. I must say that I am overcome with malaise when I think about the movies as of late. I have absolutely refused to place hard earned, rapidly depreciating dollars down to see Kung Fu Panda, Wall-E, or Wanted (though if you have seen them, the site would benefit from your thoughts so e-mail them to middlebrowfilm@gmail.com). I have gone to the theater twice and each time been unable to muster up a proper review. Here are some scattered thoughts from those two outings:
You Don’t Mess with the Zohan: It is nice to see Adam Sandler play the clueless lothario, a role usually reserved for Will Farrell, instead of his rage-aholic moron character. The film earns points for its novel subject matter (a comedy about the tribulations of the modern Middle East) but loses points for being utterly forgettable twenty-two minutes after the credits (I have a vague recollection of about a dozen hummus gags). It is also possible that the movie raises awareness about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict while filling American minds with a new batch of stereotypes about both groups.
Get Smart: This film gives “family friendly film” a good name by being able to reach multiple generations (I took my grandparents and they approved) without dumbing it down. Much of the cast sparkles with the star quality needed to deliver this sort of material. Sadly, Anne Hathaway did not rise to the level of her costars. She delivers a flat performance and still looks like she is in her mid-teens, which hurt her efforts. The other distractor was the filmmakers’ use of digital video-Bourne Identity stlye camera work during the action sequences. It is unclear who thought that the film, based on a sit-com featuring a shoe phone, needed that cinema verite touch but it came off as sloppy.
That’s all I got folks, which is kind of sad because I really dig the summer season. If you have seen something worthwhile please let us know. Tomorrow I go to see Hancock with the hopes of my blues being lifted. I will let you know how it turns out.
You Don’t Mess with the Zohan: It is nice to see Adam Sandler play the clueless lothario, a role usually reserved for Will Farrell, instead of his rage-aholic moron character. The film earns points for its novel subject matter (a comedy about the tribulations of the modern Middle East) but loses points for being utterly forgettable twenty-two minutes after the credits (I have a vague recollection of about a dozen hummus gags). It is also possible that the movie raises awareness about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict while filling American minds with a new batch of stereotypes about both groups.
Get Smart: This film gives “family friendly film” a good name by being able to reach multiple generations (I took my grandparents and they approved) without dumbing it down. Much of the cast sparkles with the star quality needed to deliver this sort of material. Sadly, Anne Hathaway did not rise to the level of her costars. She delivers a flat performance and still looks like she is in her mid-teens, which hurt her efforts. The other distractor was the filmmakers’ use of digital video-Bourne Identity stlye camera work during the action sequences. It is unclear who thought that the film, based on a sit-com featuring a shoe phone, needed that cinema verite touch but it came off as sloppy.
That’s all I got folks, which is kind of sad because I really dig the summer season. If you have seen something worthwhile please let us know. Tomorrow I go to see Hancock with the hopes of my blues being lifted. I will let you know how it turns out.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
My Friday Night Freak Fest and a review of The Strangers
When I wrote about the trailer for The Strangers earlier in the week, I never really indicated that I intended to go see it. I must admit that I am not a huge horror fan because I am a much bigger fan of not being scared. But then my older brother laid down a challenge of sorts on the comments page. Ben has always shown up for a good scary movie (he has a Haddonfield Illinois T-shirt, if you catch that reference you deserve a free subscription to Fangora). I clearly recall him giving me a shot-by-shot recollection of A Nightmare on Elm St. so chilling that I have never seen the movie myself. Upon reading his comment I resolve to be the scardey cat brother no longer. I decide to go the movie after dark, alone, at a time when there would be no one at the house upon my return. Pretty brave, if I do say so myself.
When I reach the front of the box office line I am informed, “The theater is almost full. There are a lot of kids in there.” I feign annoyance and buy my ticket. The truth was I am relieved that I will be surrounded by people half my age who will no doubt talk throughout to remind me that this is, in fact, just a movie. The crowd does not disappoint; their gossiping and texting doing wonders for my high anxiety. What follows is a proper review of the movie itself:
Simplicity is The Strangers best asset. With only four speaking roles, minimal use of inorganic sound, and a nearly claustrophobic use of space, this film is pretty bare bones. Add to this the simplicity of the premise (couple in house wants to live, three masked crazies outside of house have other intentions) and you have a pretty frightening movie with a classic, pre-slasher, feel. There are plenty of jump out of your seat moments (including a few compulsory false alarms) and plenty of chances to scream “Don’t go into the house/car/garage/dilapidated barn etc." The use of music is so pitch perfect scary that you will never hear Merle Haggard the same way again. The gore level is kept surprisingly, and wisely, low to keep the movie firmly in the “scary” category far away from the “just plain gross” section.
Writer/director Bryan Bertino remembers that the more plausible the scenario the more terrifying it is. He has wisely excised anything that would require an explanation (a hostel where guests are sold to a group of businessmen who allow others to torture and kill them for money, for example). Focusing the action in a home, the symbol of safety and security in so many lives, amplifies the fear factor. The performances of Liv Tyler and Scott Speedman play into this perfectly. They are both so completely unremarkable, on purpose, that the viewer can easily superimpose themselves into the situation.
All horror movies eventually face the same problem: the issue of diminishing returns. What is scary twenty-minutes in will not be scary at the hour mark. This is where The Strangers stumbles. The villains are nightmare inducing, but an over-reliance on the “masks are scary” mantra leads to a stall in the frights about three quarter of the way through the film. The audience becomes accustomed to the concept and familiarity just isn’t scary. Something new needed to happen and it never did. The end of the film is even more disappointing. Without revealing the final act, let’s just say the filmmakers traded in cleverness for cleavers. The conclusion felt more like the fair that Rob Zombie and the other Horror-porn mongers have been serving up to horror fans for the past several years. This particular choice keeps The Strangers from being an entirely viable alternative to that truly dreadful genre.
When I reach the front of the box office line I am informed, “The theater is almost full. There are a lot of kids in there.” I feign annoyance and buy my ticket. The truth was I am relieved that I will be surrounded by people half my age who will no doubt talk throughout to remind me that this is, in fact, just a movie. The crowd does not disappoint; their gossiping and texting doing wonders for my high anxiety. What follows is a proper review of the movie itself:
Simplicity is The Strangers best asset. With only four speaking roles, minimal use of inorganic sound, and a nearly claustrophobic use of space, this film is pretty bare bones. Add to this the simplicity of the premise (couple in house wants to live, three masked crazies outside of house have other intentions) and you have a pretty frightening movie with a classic, pre-slasher, feel. There are plenty of jump out of your seat moments (including a few compulsory false alarms) and plenty of chances to scream “Don’t go into the house/car/garage/dilapidated barn etc." The use of music is so pitch perfect scary that you will never hear Merle Haggard the same way again. The gore level is kept surprisingly, and wisely, low to keep the movie firmly in the “scary” category far away from the “just plain gross” section.
Writer/director Bryan Bertino remembers that the more plausible the scenario the more terrifying it is. He has wisely excised anything that would require an explanation (a hostel where guests are sold to a group of businessmen who allow others to torture and kill them for money, for example). Focusing the action in a home, the symbol of safety and security in so many lives, amplifies the fear factor. The performances of Liv Tyler and Scott Speedman play into this perfectly. They are both so completely unremarkable, on purpose, that the viewer can easily superimpose themselves into the situation.
All horror movies eventually face the same problem: the issue of diminishing returns. What is scary twenty-minutes in will not be scary at the hour mark. This is where The Strangers stumbles. The villains are nightmare inducing, but an over-reliance on the “masks are scary” mantra leads to a stall in the frights about three quarter of the way through the film. The audience becomes accustomed to the concept and familiarity just isn’t scary. Something new needed to happen and it never did. The end of the film is even more disappointing. Without revealing the final act, let’s just say the filmmakers traded in cleverness for cleavers. The conclusion felt more like the fair that Rob Zombie and the other Horror-porn mongers have been serving up to horror fans for the past several years. This particular choice keeps The Strangers from being an entirely viable alternative to that truly dreadful genre.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
The trailer for The Strangers is REALLY scary
As a rule, I try to avoid previews, particularly for movies that I want to see. I feel there is such a push to sell the film that anything interesting gets thrown into the trailer. The current clip promoting The Incredible Hulk is a grand example of this. The ad builds suspense and interest for a minute or so then proceeds to give away what looks like most of the major plot points (I won’t relay them here in case you have managed to avoid it).
Every once in a while, however, I am reminded of the true art of the movie preview. This occurred last Thursday while I was innocently watching my television. Suddenly, I was subjected to a two minute clip promoting The Strangers. The preview was so startling and scary that, later that evening, I had a series of bad dreams. I can’t remember the last full length movie that had this effect, much less a preview.
So here I am all aflutter about some horror movie that I previously knew nothing about. I am talking about The Strangers (and my accompanying nightmares) to anyone who will listen. I can’t decide if I should see it Friday or to spend the weekend hiding under my bed. It is wonderous to have such a visceral reaction to a movie, especially since I haven't even seen it yet.
Now here is the question: Is the The Strangers any good? From the looks of the preview the concept seems simple enough to be horrifying: a couple realizes their house is surrounded by some masked strangers who are icky and malevolent. The radio commercial indicates that the couple is actually on a getaway in the woods. If true, this would hamper the film because home invasion is a fear far more palpable than creepy cabin invasion (I can avoid cabins but I am in my house right now!). Perhaps the trailer is just getting potential viewers worked up over something that isn't that scary (it’s a pretty smart ploy considering it will have to compete with Sex and the City at the box office). Even worse it could just be another horror-porn sleaze fest a la Saw or Captivity. All I know is that it needed to be broad daylight before I could bring myself to re-watch that preview and I still got chills. I have included it below incase you are curious/brave enough to check it out.
Every once in a while, however, I am reminded of the true art of the movie preview. This occurred last Thursday while I was innocently watching my television. Suddenly, I was subjected to a two minute clip promoting The Strangers. The preview was so startling and scary that, later that evening, I had a series of bad dreams. I can’t remember the last full length movie that had this effect, much less a preview.
So here I am all aflutter about some horror movie that I previously knew nothing about. I am talking about The Strangers (and my accompanying nightmares) to anyone who will listen. I can’t decide if I should see it Friday or to spend the weekend hiding under my bed. It is wonderous to have such a visceral reaction to a movie, especially since I haven't even seen it yet.
Now here is the question: Is the The Strangers any good? From the looks of the preview the concept seems simple enough to be horrifying: a couple realizes their house is surrounded by some masked strangers who are icky and malevolent. The radio commercial indicates that the couple is actually on a getaway in the woods. If true, this would hamper the film because home invasion is a fear far more palpable than creepy cabin invasion (I can avoid cabins but I am in my house right now!). Perhaps the trailer is just getting potential viewers worked up over something that isn't that scary (it’s a pretty smart ploy considering it will have to compete with Sex and the City at the box office). Even worse it could just be another horror-porn sleaze fest a la Saw or Captivity. All I know is that it needed to be broad daylight before I could bring myself to re-watch that preview and I still got chills. I have included it below incase you are curious/brave enough to check it out.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
What the viewer gets out of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull depends largely on her expectations. Now this can technically be said of any movie, but it is particularly true of one that comes with such a large amount of baggage. For those whose feelings about the original Indiana Jones trilogy have less to do with the actual films and more to do with nostalgia for a time when things were simpler and we were younger, the movie may disappoint. Spielberg and Lucas try to diffuse this unfair level of expectation in the opening shot by having the Paramount mountain not fade into the form of an imposing edifice (as has occurred in each of the prior films) but rather into an average sized prairie dog whole. The message is clear: don’t make a mountain out of a prairie dog hole. Relax and try to enjoy this movie on its own.
If the viewer takes this advice he will find a very nice movie buried beneath the anticipation and hype. Harrison Ford can still summon the spirit of Indy, though it takes about twenty minutes of screen time before he really starts living the role (at the beginning he just looks like the guy from Firewall dressed up like Indiana Jones). Shia LaBeouf (as tough-ish greaser Mutt) is an effective sidekick because he is allowed to be a three dimensional character. Unlike Short Round, he is not the film’s sole source of comic relief. It must be mentioned that LaBeouf has maybe thirteen minutes until his idiosyncratic acting style become officially played out. Here, he is very easy to watch.
New territory is gained for female characters in IJATKOTCS. For the first time we have a female villain who does not use sex to manipulate Dr. Jones. Cate Blanchett’s Dr. Irina Spalko (who is essentially an amped up version of the Baroness from G.I. Joe) gets to revel in her own badittude to the delight of the viewer. This is a stark contrast to Last Crusade’s Dr. Elsa Schnieder (Alison Doody) who seduces Indy to help the Nazis only to feel guilty about it the rest of the movie. The other female first is the inclusion of a woman who we have seen before. Karen Allen makes a well deserved return as Marion Ravenwood. When Indy admits to Marion that all his subsequent relationships have ended because the women “weren’t you” it is a clear apology from the filmmakers to Allen, not to mention the audience. The return of Marion gives us a female character we can actually root for and care about.
Without spoiling your plans for the Memorial Day Weekend, let’s look at the plot. Things get off to a bumpy start with an awkward explanation of what Indy has been doing for the past twenty years. Again, Indiana Jones is far more entertaining as a slightly vague character; the more details we have on him the less exciting he is. All of this is largely forgotten and forgiven by the time his quest begins. Shockingly, the extra-terrestrial elements of the story are bearable at least until the very climax of the film. At that point there is a hokiness akin to when Indy meets the 2,000 year old knight at the end of Last Crusade. All of the elements of an Indiana Jones movie are there in, more or less, fine form (including some of the best creepy insects of the entire series). Aside from a segment where LeBeouf swings on vines with a pack of monkeys who seem to have aped his pompadour (killer simians would have been a far better choice), there isn’t a bathroom break in the entire picture.
Is Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull necessary? No. Is it the shameful ruination of the Indiana Jones legacy? No. Look, no one in my generation is going to watch this installment of the series as many times as we have seen the others, nor should we. We also need to realize that our fondness for Indiana Jones is largely a fondness for our childhoods in general. We cannot recreate our youths and we shouldn’t expect George Lucas and/or Steven Spielberg to be able to either. This movie is a solid Summer picture that stays true to the core values of the originals. If you find yourself hating IJATLOTCS, I hope you have the maturity to proclaim, “It’s not you, it’s me.”
If the viewer takes this advice he will find a very nice movie buried beneath the anticipation and hype. Harrison Ford can still summon the spirit of Indy, though it takes about twenty minutes of screen time before he really starts living the role (at the beginning he just looks like the guy from Firewall dressed up like Indiana Jones). Shia LaBeouf (as tough-ish greaser Mutt) is an effective sidekick because he is allowed to be a three dimensional character. Unlike Short Round, he is not the film’s sole source of comic relief. It must be mentioned that LaBeouf has maybe thirteen minutes until his idiosyncratic acting style become officially played out. Here, he is very easy to watch.
New territory is gained for female characters in IJATKOTCS. For the first time we have a female villain who does not use sex to manipulate Dr. Jones. Cate Blanchett’s Dr. Irina Spalko (who is essentially an amped up version of the Baroness from G.I. Joe) gets to revel in her own badittude to the delight of the viewer. This is a stark contrast to Last Crusade’s Dr. Elsa Schnieder (Alison Doody) who seduces Indy to help the Nazis only to feel guilty about it the rest of the movie. The other female first is the inclusion of a woman who we have seen before. Karen Allen makes a well deserved return as Marion Ravenwood. When Indy admits to Marion that all his subsequent relationships have ended because the women “weren’t you” it is a clear apology from the filmmakers to Allen, not to mention the audience. The return of Marion gives us a female character we can actually root for and care about.
Without spoiling your plans for the Memorial Day Weekend, let’s look at the plot. Things get off to a bumpy start with an awkward explanation of what Indy has been doing for the past twenty years. Again, Indiana Jones is far more entertaining as a slightly vague character; the more details we have on him the less exciting he is. All of this is largely forgotten and forgiven by the time his quest begins. Shockingly, the extra-terrestrial elements of the story are bearable at least until the very climax of the film. At that point there is a hokiness akin to when Indy meets the 2,000 year old knight at the end of Last Crusade. All of the elements of an Indiana Jones movie are there in, more or less, fine form (including some of the best creepy insects of the entire series). Aside from a segment where LeBeouf swings on vines with a pack of monkeys who seem to have aped his pompadour (killer simians would have been a far better choice), there isn’t a bathroom break in the entire picture.
Is Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull necessary? No. Is it the shameful ruination of the Indiana Jones legacy? No. Look, no one in my generation is going to watch this installment of the series as many times as we have seen the others, nor should we. We also need to realize that our fondness for Indiana Jones is largely a fondness for our childhoods in general. We cannot recreate our youths and we shouldn’t expect George Lucas and/or Steven Spielberg to be able to either. This movie is a solid Summer picture that stays true to the core values of the originals. If you find yourself hating IJATLOTCS, I hope you have the maturity to proclaim, “It’s not you, it’s me.”
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Raiders Part Two: Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
It is clear that Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade is an attempt to resuscitate the magic of Raiders of the Lost Ark. The storyline is shockingly similar (The Nazis are, once again, hunting for a powerful Judeo-Christian artifact and Indiana Jones must beat them to it). There are references both subtle (similar shot sequences during the college scenes) and more obvious (Indy comes across a drawing of the Ark in the Venice catacombs) to the initial film. The question is this: Is IJATLC a delightful return to form for the series that lost its way with Temple of Doom? Or is it simply a lesser version of IJATROTLA? The answer, actually, is that it is both.
If you were to watch the first and third installment of the Indiana Jones trilogy in rapid succession (as your dedicated critic has done) you would find the two films similarities irksome. It must be remembered that these movies were released nearly a decade apart so Spielberg and Lucas can be forgiven for liberally stealing from themselves. The best elements of IJATROTLA are back though not as potent as they were the first time. The most notable is the usage of the Nazis. As Indy says when he realizes who he is up against, “Nazis! I hate those guys.” The truth is that the audience loves to hate them as well. It is a fact: nothing is more satisfying than seeing a Nazi thrown out the side Zeppelin (except maybe to see his face melt). The use of the Holy Grail as the objective of Dr. Jones’ journey is an attempt to reduce the archeo-babble that permeated the IJATTOD script. This is only slightly effective. There is still too much boring talk about the myth of the grail which slows the pace of the movie, though it is far more understandable than the talk of Thuggies and Sankara stones.
Of course the filmmakers have added some novel elements to justify a third film. While it has traces of John Ford’s The Searchers and John Sturges The Great Escape, Last Crusade owes its greatest debt to the James Bond films, which we will all remember were Spielberg’s original inspiration. By upping the number of chase scenes (by horse, train, boat, plane, motorcycle, and tank) Indy looks more like 007 than ever. The biggest nod is, of course, the inclusion of Mr. Bond himself, Sean Connery as Henry Jones Sr. The chemistry between the Joneses is instant and truly entertaining; it is by far the most electric relationship of the trilogy. Connery is able to provide an excellent balance of comic relief and pathos to the film which makes him much more than a sidekick.
Beyond expanding the action of the film, Spielberg and Lucas have also expanded the characters. Indiana Jones is modeled after the heroes of early movie serials. These were essentially stock characters whose personas remained relatively static (in fact many were played by more than one actor over the course of the series). This is why the audience has gotten through two movies without needing to know too much about Indiana’s back story. By the end of IJATLC Indy is completely psychoanalyzed. Within the first ten minutes we discover the origin of his obsession with whips and leather, his fear of snakes and even the origin of the scar on his chin (which all coincidentally have their beginnings on the same afternoon). Plenty of the remainder of the movie is spent delving into his Daddy Issues, which at one point seem to border on an Oedipal complex. At times this seems like unneeded weight in a movie which is a good twenty minutes longer than either of its predecessors. But, in a way, it fills out the character and solidifies our understanding and devotion for him.
And deep devotion we must have for it has been 19 summers since Indiana Jones drank from the Cup of Life (remember that it did not give him immortality, because he left the shrine and its powers wore off). Here we are again lining up to take in another adventure. For those of you who are kining up for tonight's midnight show of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, have fun. Please add your insights to the comments section. I am holding out until tomorrow at 7:10 pm at the Whittier Village Cinemas so expect my thoughts on Friday.
If you were to watch the first and third installment of the Indiana Jones trilogy in rapid succession (as your dedicated critic has done) you would find the two films similarities irksome. It must be remembered that these movies were released nearly a decade apart so Spielberg and Lucas can be forgiven for liberally stealing from themselves. The best elements of IJATROTLA are back though not as potent as they were the first time. The most notable is the usage of the Nazis. As Indy says when he realizes who he is up against, “Nazis! I hate those guys.” The truth is that the audience loves to hate them as well. It is a fact: nothing is more satisfying than seeing a Nazi thrown out the side Zeppelin (except maybe to see his face melt). The use of the Holy Grail as the objective of Dr. Jones’ journey is an attempt to reduce the archeo-babble that permeated the IJATTOD script. This is only slightly effective. There is still too much boring talk about the myth of the grail which slows the pace of the movie, though it is far more understandable than the talk of Thuggies and Sankara stones.
Of course the filmmakers have added some novel elements to justify a third film. While it has traces of John Ford’s The Searchers and John Sturges The Great Escape, Last Crusade owes its greatest debt to the James Bond films, which we will all remember were Spielberg’s original inspiration. By upping the number of chase scenes (by horse, train, boat, plane, motorcycle, and tank) Indy looks more like 007 than ever. The biggest nod is, of course, the inclusion of Mr. Bond himself, Sean Connery as Henry Jones Sr. The chemistry between the Joneses is instant and truly entertaining; it is by far the most electric relationship of the trilogy. Connery is able to provide an excellent balance of comic relief and pathos to the film which makes him much more than a sidekick.
Beyond expanding the action of the film, Spielberg and Lucas have also expanded the characters. Indiana Jones is modeled after the heroes of early movie serials. These were essentially stock characters whose personas remained relatively static (in fact many were played by more than one actor over the course of the series). This is why the audience has gotten through two movies without needing to know too much about Indiana’s back story. By the end of IJATLC Indy is completely psychoanalyzed. Within the first ten minutes we discover the origin of his obsession with whips and leather, his fear of snakes and even the origin of the scar on his chin (which all coincidentally have their beginnings on the same afternoon). Plenty of the remainder of the movie is spent delving into his Daddy Issues, which at one point seem to border on an Oedipal complex. At times this seems like unneeded weight in a movie which is a good twenty minutes longer than either of its predecessors. But, in a way, it fills out the character and solidifies our understanding and devotion for him.
And deep devotion we must have for it has been 19 summers since Indiana Jones drank from the Cup of Life (remember that it did not give him immortality, because he left the shrine and its powers wore off). Here we are again lining up to take in another adventure. For those of you who are kining up for tonight's midnight show of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, have fun. Please add your insights to the comments section. I am holding out until tomorrow at 7:10 pm at the Whittier Village Cinemas so expect my thoughts on Friday.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Fortune and Boring: The sad truth about Temple of Doom
From the moment the Paramount logo fades into a mountainous design on a giant gong, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom starts to disappoint. As is the case with many sequels, IJATTOD attempts to be bigger than its predecessor in almost everyway. After all, the characters have already been established and now the true fun can begin. This can lead to greatness (The Empire Strikes Back, a movie that George Lucas is intimately familiar with, being an excellent example) or it can create a bit of a mess. IJATTOD is the latter. It is such a mess, in fact, that it can almost be seen as the antithesis of Raiders of the Lost Ark; what made that movie great makes this movie dreck.
Let’s begin with the plot. IJATROTLA had a simple story that was full of possibilities. The concept of Nazis trying to find the Ark of the Covenant (which Dr. Jones reminds us holds the Ten Commandments, in case you skipped Hebrew School) is set up in the first act and the through line of the picture is established. The plot of IJATTOD takes far longer to reveal itelf and once revealed it is not that impressive. Here is the story in a nutshell:
Indiana Jones, along with his tween chauffer Short Round and lounge singer Willie Scott (played by Ke Huy Quan and Kate Capshaw), find himself in an impoverished village in remote India. Indy agrees to find a sacred stone and the village's missing children. The stones and children are in the hands of a high priest who can rip your heart out through your body cavity.
There is not much urgency in this plotline because the complexity of the story’s mysticism (which seems to be a bastardization of actual Hindu beliefs) needs constant explanation by the characters along the way. The most frustrating part is that there existed real villains in 1930s India in the form of the British colonials. Why invent a group of priests who force Indian children to labor their lives away when the British were actually doing it? Imagine it: Indy could go into the titular temple expecting crazy Indian witch doctors only to find Brits who had stolen the stones and were using them to control the colony. This would have proved to be a far more simple (and compelling) storyline to convey. It could have also kept the film from being labeled at least stereotypical, if not downright racist.
As with IJATROLA, the filmmakers celebrate the cinema of the 1930s. Instead of saluting film noir and slapstick, Lucas and Spielberg have infused IJATTOD with elements of films from the early age of color movies. The opening (with Kate Capshaw singing “Anything Goes” in Chinese) is straight out of a Busby Berkeley musical, but it goes too far. The dancers break out of reality and strut their stuff on some magic dance floor that is clearly not in the restaurant where the film began. Then they are back. It is as if the film has jumped the shark before we even see Indiana Jones. The other major influence appears to be the “Sword and Sandals” epics of the time. This leads to a little more fun (and a lot more bare chested Harrison Ford). However, the whole thing is bathed in garish lighting possibly meant to evoke the brilliance of those early color films (filmmakers doing their first work in color went, understandably, overboard in the use of hues). Raiders of the Lost Ark was shot almost like a black and white film, to beautiful effect, the look here cheapens the entire picture.
A classic move for a sequel is to provide the protagonist with a sidekick. This is dangerous territory (there is a reason all the good Batman movies are the ones without Robin). In IJATTOD, Indiana Jones has been saddled with not one, but two, sidekicks in the form of Willie Scot and Short Round. Both performers seem to have gone to the “hit one note repeatedly” school of acting and their skills are on full display here. Capshaw is by far the more annoying of the two. Her prissy lady in the jungle shtick is supposed to give her relationship with Indy a African Queen vibe, instead it lands somewhere south of Green Acres. Her motivations are completely implausible (no human, no matter how greedy, still gets excited about diamonds right after seeing a man get his heart ripped out of his chest) and her tone of voice is excruciating. Short Round is grating (you can see the genesis of Jar Jar Binks in the role) but it is possible to see where an interesting relationship between the orphan and his archeologist father figure could have developed. The time that could have been spent developing that relationship, however, is filled with endless one liners screamed in adorable broken English.
It is not as if IJATTOD is utterly without merit. Harrison Ford is still grizzled swagger incarnate and the climactic scene on the world’s most unsafe rope bridge is gripping. However, the film falls so far short of the intent and execution of its predecessor that it is hard to keep these positives in perspective. Of course Temple of Doom was a smash success at the box office regardless and you know what that means: a third installment was released five years later. But that is a story for another day. How about tomorrow?
Let’s begin with the plot. IJATROTLA had a simple story that was full of possibilities. The concept of Nazis trying to find the Ark of the Covenant (which Dr. Jones reminds us holds the Ten Commandments, in case you skipped Hebrew School) is set up in the first act and the through line of the picture is established. The plot of IJATTOD takes far longer to reveal itelf and once revealed it is not that impressive. Here is the story in a nutshell:
Indiana Jones, along with his tween chauffer Short Round and lounge singer Willie Scott (played by Ke Huy Quan and Kate Capshaw), find himself in an impoverished village in remote India. Indy agrees to find a sacred stone and the village's missing children. The stones and children are in the hands of a high priest who can rip your heart out through your body cavity.
There is not much urgency in this plotline because the complexity of the story’s mysticism (which seems to be a bastardization of actual Hindu beliefs) needs constant explanation by the characters along the way. The most frustrating part is that there existed real villains in 1930s India in the form of the British colonials. Why invent a group of priests who force Indian children to labor their lives away when the British were actually doing it? Imagine it: Indy could go into the titular temple expecting crazy Indian witch doctors only to find Brits who had stolen the stones and were using them to control the colony. This would have proved to be a far more simple (and compelling) storyline to convey. It could have also kept the film from being labeled at least stereotypical, if not downright racist.
As with IJATROLA, the filmmakers celebrate the cinema of the 1930s. Instead of saluting film noir and slapstick, Lucas and Spielberg have infused IJATTOD with elements of films from the early age of color movies. The opening (with Kate Capshaw singing “Anything Goes” in Chinese) is straight out of a Busby Berkeley musical, but it goes too far. The dancers break out of reality and strut their stuff on some magic dance floor that is clearly not in the restaurant where the film began. Then they are back. It is as if the film has jumped the shark before we even see Indiana Jones. The other major influence appears to be the “Sword and Sandals” epics of the time. This leads to a little more fun (and a lot more bare chested Harrison Ford). However, the whole thing is bathed in garish lighting possibly meant to evoke the brilliance of those early color films (filmmakers doing their first work in color went, understandably, overboard in the use of hues). Raiders of the Lost Ark was shot almost like a black and white film, to beautiful effect, the look here cheapens the entire picture.
A classic move for a sequel is to provide the protagonist with a sidekick. This is dangerous territory (there is a reason all the good Batman movies are the ones without Robin). In IJATTOD, Indiana Jones has been saddled with not one, but two, sidekicks in the form of Willie Scot and Short Round. Both performers seem to have gone to the “hit one note repeatedly” school of acting and their skills are on full display here. Capshaw is by far the more annoying of the two. Her prissy lady in the jungle shtick is supposed to give her relationship with Indy a African Queen vibe, instead it lands somewhere south of Green Acres. Her motivations are completely implausible (no human, no matter how greedy, still gets excited about diamonds right after seeing a man get his heart ripped out of his chest) and her tone of voice is excruciating. Short Round is grating (you can see the genesis of Jar Jar Binks in the role) but it is possible to see where an interesting relationship between the orphan and his archeologist father figure could have developed. The time that could have been spent developing that relationship, however, is filled with endless one liners screamed in adorable broken English.
It is not as if IJATTOD is utterly without merit. Harrison Ford is still grizzled swagger incarnate and the climactic scene on the world’s most unsafe rope bridge is gripping. However, the film falls so far short of the intent and execution of its predecessor that it is hard to keep these positives in perspective. Of course Temple of Doom was a smash success at the box office regardless and you know what that means: a third installment was released five years later. But that is a story for another day. How about tomorrow?
Monday, May 19, 2008
All you need is a leather jacket, a whip, a fedora, and some stubble...
It is Indiana Jones Week here at the Middlebrow Film Society! As the world knows, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull opens on Thursday (you can’t pick up a can of Dr. Pepper without being reminded). In the past few weeks I have really cracked the whip and spent some quality time with everyone’s favorite archeologist (sorry Louis Leakey). Be sure to check the site each day: there will be reviews of Indy’s three prior adventures as well as essays on the cultural impact of Dr. Jones. Everything culminates with my authoratative review of the latest installment at the end of the week. Be sure to share your thoughts, memories, and predictions on the comments pages. I am overly excited, in fact, I am attempting to keep a five o’clock shadow for the entire week.
Let’s start back at the very beginning. The year was 1935 (or 1981 if you have a crummy imagination) and the movie was…
INDIANA JONES AND THE RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK
From the moment that the Paramount logo fades to reveal a South American mountain it is clear that IJATROTLA is a classic. There is no moment in the entire film that does not feel carefully planed and wonderfully executed. Viewers who return to this film will find that most it is emblazoned in your memory exactly as it appears. This is a sign of truly iconic filmmaking. Those of us who viewed IJATROTLA as children will find that the movie is even more impressive from a more mature perspective.
George Lucas and Steven Spielberg are film geeks and their love of the Golden Age of Hollywood is clear in much of their early work (The Star Wars movies pay clear homage to Akira Kurosawa and John Huston). With IJATROTLA, the filmmakers have used a period piece to celebrate the movies of that same era. The result is some of the best film noir imagery to be captured on color film. Harrison Ford’s Indiana Jones first enters the picture as a shadow that slowly reveals itself. The contrast between light and dark on screen, which was a hallmark of the noir genre, is used, with great skill, to heighten suspense just it did seventy years ago. Indy and Karen Allen’s hard boiled (and hard drinking) Marion fit perfectly along side of the noir characters of the 1930s.
The status of IJATROTLA as a summer blockbuster (it was the highest grossing movie of 1981) may cause some to forget that it is also a great comedy. Borrowing liberally from Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, and the Marx Brother’s Lucas and Spielberg have worked some serious laughs into their action adventure movie. Almost every comedic bit requires no dialogue at all (Indy shooting the crafty swordsman, the Hitler hailing monkey, the nun chucks that turn into a coat hanger etc.) and is shot with such care and precision that the effect is gut busting.
Perhaps the most commendable aspect of IJATROTLA is its extreme cinematic economy. After a quick, and unforgettable, opening sequence (the whole “You throw me the idol, I’ll throw you the whip” part) to establish the character, the movie’s trajectory is set up in a matter of minutes (in case you forgot, Dr. Jones must beat the Nazi’s to the rediscovery of the Ark of the Covenant, which holds the Ten Commandments and can melt your face). Each segment of the film holds tightly to this plot line which creates a film that can literally be described as “non-stop fun.” IJATROTLA is a genre film, so very little has to be explained to the audience. There is no question that Indiana Jones is a hero and Karen Allen’s Marion is utterly ravishing. Utilizing Nazi villians is genius because no audience member needs a lengthy rationale for hating them. The result is a lean action/comedy/romance machine that clocks in at an hour and forty five minutes.
The legend goes like this: Steven Spielberg and George Lucas are on the beach in Hawaii in the late 70’s (a nice image for all the ladies out there I’m sure). Spielberg confesses that he would like to helm a James Bond picture. Lucas suggests that they create something of their own. Fast forward a couple of years and you have Indiana Jones out running a giant boulder straight into our hearts. A movie like this, one not based on comic book, old movie, TV show or video game, is a rarity in 21st century Hollywood (The Matrix is the last of this ilk to come to mind). Our understanding of Indiana Jones is not tied to a previous experience; his appeal is not based on nostalgia. It would be nice if more studios allowed creative filmmakers to actually invent worlds and characters for us to enjoy. This would save us from the endless cycle of remakes, spin-offs, and sequels.
Speaking of sequels, is Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom a worthy follow up to this masterwork? Is that mine cart chase still thrilling? Is Short Round as annoying as you remember? The answers to these questions and more will be answered tomorrow as Indiana Jones Week continues.
Let’s start back at the very beginning. The year was 1935 (or 1981 if you have a crummy imagination) and the movie was…
INDIANA JONES AND THE RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK
From the moment that the Paramount logo fades to reveal a South American mountain it is clear that IJATROTLA is a classic. There is no moment in the entire film that does not feel carefully planed and wonderfully executed. Viewers who return to this film will find that most it is emblazoned in your memory exactly as it appears. This is a sign of truly iconic filmmaking. Those of us who viewed IJATROTLA as children will find that the movie is even more impressive from a more mature perspective.
George Lucas and Steven Spielberg are film geeks and their love of the Golden Age of Hollywood is clear in much of their early work (The Star Wars movies pay clear homage to Akira Kurosawa and John Huston). With IJATROTLA, the filmmakers have used a period piece to celebrate the movies of that same era. The result is some of the best film noir imagery to be captured on color film. Harrison Ford’s Indiana Jones first enters the picture as a shadow that slowly reveals itself. The contrast between light and dark on screen, which was a hallmark of the noir genre, is used, with great skill, to heighten suspense just it did seventy years ago. Indy and Karen Allen’s hard boiled (and hard drinking) Marion fit perfectly along side of the noir characters of the 1930s.
The status of IJATROTLA as a summer blockbuster (it was the highest grossing movie of 1981) may cause some to forget that it is also a great comedy. Borrowing liberally from Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, and the Marx Brother’s Lucas and Spielberg have worked some serious laughs into their action adventure movie. Almost every comedic bit requires no dialogue at all (Indy shooting the crafty swordsman, the Hitler hailing monkey, the nun chucks that turn into a coat hanger etc.) and is shot with such care and precision that the effect is gut busting.
Perhaps the most commendable aspect of IJATROTLA is its extreme cinematic economy. After a quick, and unforgettable, opening sequence (the whole “You throw me the idol, I’ll throw you the whip” part) to establish the character, the movie’s trajectory is set up in a matter of minutes (in case you forgot, Dr. Jones must beat the Nazi’s to the rediscovery of the Ark of the Covenant, which holds the Ten Commandments and can melt your face). Each segment of the film holds tightly to this plot line which creates a film that can literally be described as “non-stop fun.” IJATROTLA is a genre film, so very little has to be explained to the audience. There is no question that Indiana Jones is a hero and Karen Allen’s Marion is utterly ravishing. Utilizing Nazi villians is genius because no audience member needs a lengthy rationale for hating them. The result is a lean action/comedy/romance machine that clocks in at an hour and forty five minutes.
The legend goes like this: Steven Spielberg and George Lucas are on the beach in Hawaii in the late 70’s (a nice image for all the ladies out there I’m sure). Spielberg confesses that he would like to helm a James Bond picture. Lucas suggests that they create something of their own. Fast forward a couple of years and you have Indiana Jones out running a giant boulder straight into our hearts. A movie like this, one not based on comic book, old movie, TV show or video game, is a rarity in 21st century Hollywood (The Matrix is the last of this ilk to come to mind). Our understanding of Indiana Jones is not tied to a previous experience; his appeal is not based on nostalgia. It would be nice if more studios allowed creative filmmakers to actually invent worlds and characters for us to enjoy. This would save us from the endless cycle of remakes, spin-offs, and sequels.
Speaking of sequels, is Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom a worthy follow up to this masterwork? Is that mine cart chase still thrilling? Is Short Round as annoying as you remember? The answers to these questions and more will be answered tomorrow as Indiana Jones Week continues.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Stop! Speed Racer Stop!
The opening moments of Speed Racer take the viewer back a decade to when the Wachowski brothers reinvented the action genre with The Matrix. The boldness of the film’s aesthetic (which places real actors into a CG universe instead of the other way around) has instant appeal akin to Neo’s slo-mo kung-fu. About twenty minutes into the movie, the viewer is reminded that the Wachowski’s directed The Matrix Reloaded and The Matrix Revolutions. Their inability to tell a story ruined those films and that same lack of skill is on display in Speed Racer as well.
Here’s the trouble, and some aficionados may be crushed by this, Speed Racer is not very good source material. The cartoon holds up only as a piece of camp that is probably much more enjoyable if viewed high on weed. A high energy/ high irony movie version could have worked, though the weed might still need to be employed. This film is played so straight that there is no tongue in cheek fun to be had. Instead you have characters that are 2-D thin begging to be taken seriously. The script is unimaginative (if you miss any of the half dozen inspirational speeches that Speed Racer receives do not fear, they are all replayed again at the climax) and it doesn’t look like anyone is having any fun.
Because the film clearly hinges on its visual effects, let’s examine them in more detail. The car chase is a Hollywood staple because it comes with built in suspense. The scenes where the Mach Five barrels around the track, however, have all of the excitement of watching someone else play video games. Once Speed finds himself in an off road rally the excitement does pick up a bit but the movie will probably only succeed in making viewers want to play Mario Kart. It has been well publicized that this film cost $200 million to make, however, some of the computer rendering doesn’t look much better than what Robert Rodriguez does for his Spy Kids movies for a fraction of the cost.
As far as the performances go, Christina Ricci (as Speed’s girlfriend) and John Goodman (as Pops Racer) are the most watchable. They also come closest to taking the film over the top, which is where it desperately needed to go. Emile Hirsch’s earnestness looks ridiculous against his Technicolor racing suit and CG car. Paulie Litt does a good job of recreating the character of Spritle Racer; Spritle, it should be noted, is obnoxious in the cartoon and thus is equally obnoxious in the movie.
Speed Racer does hold some thrills (there is some solid martial arts fun about an hour in) and a couple of laughs, all of which receive an amplified response from a joy deprived audience. But it is clear that the Wachowski’s have gone the way of George Lucas; obsessed with new technology at the expense of actual storytelling. Sure The Matrix (or Star Wars) was chock full of spectacular effects but it also had an intriguing story and characters to become invested in. What their subsequent films (just like the three Star Wars prequels) have shown is that all of the spectacle in the world cannot make up for the lack of solid narrative.
Here’s the trouble, and some aficionados may be crushed by this, Speed Racer is not very good source material. The cartoon holds up only as a piece of camp that is probably much more enjoyable if viewed high on weed. A high energy/ high irony movie version could have worked, though the weed might still need to be employed. This film is played so straight that there is no tongue in cheek fun to be had. Instead you have characters that are 2-D thin begging to be taken seriously. The script is unimaginative (if you miss any of the half dozen inspirational speeches that Speed Racer receives do not fear, they are all replayed again at the climax) and it doesn’t look like anyone is having any fun.
Because the film clearly hinges on its visual effects, let’s examine them in more detail. The car chase is a Hollywood staple because it comes with built in suspense. The scenes where the Mach Five barrels around the track, however, have all of the excitement of watching someone else play video games. Once Speed finds himself in an off road rally the excitement does pick up a bit but the movie will probably only succeed in making viewers want to play Mario Kart. It has been well publicized that this film cost $200 million to make, however, some of the computer rendering doesn’t look much better than what Robert Rodriguez does for his Spy Kids movies for a fraction of the cost.
As far as the performances go, Christina Ricci (as Speed’s girlfriend) and John Goodman (as Pops Racer) are the most watchable. They also come closest to taking the film over the top, which is where it desperately needed to go. Emile Hirsch’s earnestness looks ridiculous against his Technicolor racing suit and CG car. Paulie Litt does a good job of recreating the character of Spritle Racer; Spritle, it should be noted, is obnoxious in the cartoon and thus is equally obnoxious in the movie.
Speed Racer does hold some thrills (there is some solid martial arts fun about an hour in) and a couple of laughs, all of which receive an amplified response from a joy deprived audience. But it is clear that the Wachowski’s have gone the way of George Lucas; obsessed with new technology at the expense of actual storytelling. Sure The Matrix (or Star Wars) was chock full of spectacular effects but it also had an intriguing story and characters to become invested in. What their subsequent films (just like the three Star Wars prequels) have shown is that all of the spectacle in the world cannot make up for the lack of solid narrative.
Monday, May 12, 2008
DVD Pick: I'm Not There, but you might be...
I don’t normally recommend a movie that I don’t like but I will make an exception with I’m Not There, Todd Haynes experimental biopic about the many lives of Bob Dylan (each section of Dylan’s life is taken on by a different actor including Oscar nominee Cate Blanchett) . As an avid Dylan fan,I entered the theater last Fall filled with both anticipation and expectations. I left the theater (over two hours later) convinced that Todd Haynes is a royal boob. I felt that the story was covered with so many layers of faux artiness that it lost the spirit of its central figure. Not that there isn’t plenty that is appealing (David Cross’ channeling of Allen Ginsburg is worth the effort of putting this on your Netflix queue), I simply had to work too hard to get too little. By the time I got to the car I had made up my mind to file this one away under “Director’s overblown ego kills the picture.”
But then I made the mistake of talking about the movie. The conversation began with my wife on the way home but it continued for the next several weeks with anyone who had seen it. I spoke with fellow Dylan-ites as well as those with little to no exposure to his music (it should be said that this group seemed to get more out of the film). I was even at a friend’s house when a I’m Not There moratorium needed to be put in place. It seemed that everyone I spoke to had a new take on the purpose of the film. Elements that were crystal clear to one viewer were an utter enigma to another. It was fascinating that each person had taken the movie in on a completely personal level and that determined their particular likes and/or dislikes. Films are often promoted as “The Most Talked About Film of the Year” but this one fits the bill unequivocally in my social circles.
In the months since I actually watched I’m Not There my mind has been made up and then undone several times about its value. I can honestly say that I have never so eagerly awaited the DVD release of a movie I had such cool feelings for initially. I want to see the movie again. I want to listen to Todd Haynes explain himself on the audio commentary. I want to devour the documentary extras looking for explanations. I want to finally lay this movie to rest. Perhaps I recommend I’m Not There so you can suffer along with me. Or perhaps all of this frustration is the sign of a movie that is, at least, worth paying attention to.
But then I made the mistake of talking about the movie. The conversation began with my wife on the way home but it continued for the next several weeks with anyone who had seen it. I spoke with fellow Dylan-ites as well as those with little to no exposure to his music (it should be said that this group seemed to get more out of the film). I was even at a friend’s house when a I’m Not There moratorium needed to be put in place. It seemed that everyone I spoke to had a new take on the purpose of the film. Elements that were crystal clear to one viewer were an utter enigma to another. It was fascinating that each person had taken the movie in on a completely personal level and that determined their particular likes and/or dislikes. Films are often promoted as “The Most Talked About Film of the Year” but this one fits the bill unequivocally in my social circles.
In the months since I actually watched I’m Not There my mind has been made up and then undone several times about its value. I can honestly say that I have never so eagerly awaited the DVD release of a movie I had such cool feelings for initially. I want to see the movie again. I want to listen to Todd Haynes explain himself on the audio commentary. I want to devour the documentary extras looking for explanations. I want to finally lay this movie to rest. Perhaps I recommend I’m Not There so you can suffer along with me. Or perhaps all of this frustration is the sign of a movie that is, at least, worth paying attention to.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Isn't is Ironic? Don't you think?
When Iron Man comic books were first produced, the story went like this: Tony Stark, a genius/millionaire arms manufacturer is kidnapped by Vietnamese communists and is told he must create a super weapon. Instead, he uses his brilliance to create a radical suit of armor (complete with jet pack shoes) that enables him to bust out of Hanoi.
The plot of the new Iron Man film is basically the same, though the commies have been replaced by terrorists based in Afghanistan. And what has always been interesting about the comic comes equally alive in the motion picture version. Stark, played by Robert Downey Jr., is still a morally conflicted drunk who, while charismatic, is not exactly hero material. Instead of putting on the suit to get revenge for the death of a family member (like so many in the D.C. and Marvel universes) Stark becomes a hero as an act of penance for the deaths his company has caused. These darkish, semi-ambiguous story elements are desperately needed due to the fact that this is the umpteenth super hero “origin” movie to grace the screen in the last decade.
Robert Downey Jr. is captivating in his first foray into the big paycheck market. His performance (like Christian Bale’s in Batman Begins and Johnny Depp’s in at least some of those pirate movies) is further proof that “popcorn movies” can reach new levels with the help of detail oriented actors. He does swagger much better than sincere (his reaction shots while flying around in the atmosphere are far from convincing) but still delivers a commendable performance. Sadly Gwyneth Paltrow, as Stark’s assistant Pepper Potts, only succeeds in walking around looking like Gwyneth Paltrow.
Jon Favreau displays a nice level of confidence in his direction of such a high profile picture. He allows the film to hinge on characters and their interactions rather than a red and gold suit filled with gadgets. He even manages to get the audience thinking (albeit for a fleeting moment) about the fate of innocent people in the war torn Middle East. The fact that Favreau is himself a funny guy no doubt helped in lifting the dialogue above action film one liners and allowing it to deliver honestly fresh comedic moments.
As we look ahead to a future filled with even more super hero movies (this summer we get reintroduced to the Incredible Hulk even though he already got his origin movie in 2003), filmmakers should stop and take a lesson from Iron Man. You have got to deliver more than just a faithful recreation of the comic book if you want to enthrall anyone outside of the fan boy set. Spark, originality, and talent is what it takes to make your hero more super than the rest.
The plot of the new Iron Man film is basically the same, though the commies have been replaced by terrorists based in Afghanistan. And what has always been interesting about the comic comes equally alive in the motion picture version. Stark, played by Robert Downey Jr., is still a morally conflicted drunk who, while charismatic, is not exactly hero material. Instead of putting on the suit to get revenge for the death of a family member (like so many in the D.C. and Marvel universes) Stark becomes a hero as an act of penance for the deaths his company has caused. These darkish, semi-ambiguous story elements are desperately needed due to the fact that this is the umpteenth super hero “origin” movie to grace the screen in the last decade.
Robert Downey Jr. is captivating in his first foray into the big paycheck market. His performance (like Christian Bale’s in Batman Begins and Johnny Depp’s in at least some of those pirate movies) is further proof that “popcorn movies” can reach new levels with the help of detail oriented actors. He does swagger much better than sincere (his reaction shots while flying around in the atmosphere are far from convincing) but still delivers a commendable performance. Sadly Gwyneth Paltrow, as Stark’s assistant Pepper Potts, only succeeds in walking around looking like Gwyneth Paltrow.
Jon Favreau displays a nice level of confidence in his direction of such a high profile picture. He allows the film to hinge on characters and their interactions rather than a red and gold suit filled with gadgets. He even manages to get the audience thinking (albeit for a fleeting moment) about the fate of innocent people in the war torn Middle East. The fact that Favreau is himself a funny guy no doubt helped in lifting the dialogue above action film one liners and allowing it to deliver honestly fresh comedic moments.
As we look ahead to a future filled with even more super hero movies (this summer we get reintroduced to the Incredible Hulk even though he already got his origin movie in 2003), filmmakers should stop and take a lesson from Iron Man. You have got to deliver more than just a faithful recreation of the comic book if you want to enthrall anyone outside of the fan boy set. Spark, originality, and talent is what it takes to make your hero more super than the rest.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
New to DVD: The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
Some people find director Julian Schnabel to be an overly arty snoot (a Schnob if you will). However, his flair is well suited to the adaptation of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, Jean-Dominique Bauby’s autobiography about life as a quadriplegic reduced to the use of his left eye. From the opening shot, the viewer realizes that the story will be conveyed without being tied down to any previous convention. When the narrative calls for experimentation Schnabel can create new worlds; when it calls for more traditional filmmaking he shines in this realm as well. The film is bound to surprise and perplex (in a good way).
Monday, April 28, 2008
The Return of Harold and Kumar
Harold and Kumar go to White Castle has an undeniable appeal. The 2004 sleeper hit is, at its core, a stoner comedy. However, the willingness of the film to attack assumptions about race head on gives it an edge not seen in many of today’s comedies. Each of the characters both defines and defies established assumptions about race. Harold (John Cho) is a Korean computer programmer but he also longs to be smooth romantic. Kumar (Kal Penn) is an Indian medical prodigy who acts like a frat boy. They both buck conventions by smoking copious amounts of weed. Their adventure to a White Castle hamburger stand provides them with many chances to confront stereotypes (as well as naked ladies, a cheetah, and Neil Patrick Harris) all while keeping the laughs rolling.
The question with Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay is do writers Jon Hurwitz and Hayden Schlossberg (who also take on directing this time out) have more exquisite toilet humor and social commentary (and then more toilet humor) to share with us? Or are they simply cashing in on the momentum caused by White Castle? The verdict is positive but a little murky. There is almost enough in this project to make it a viable sequel. There are some positively silly sequences (a flashback to Kumar’s first experiementation with marijuana) and some cutting social criticism (a look at the ridiculous nature of homophobia) but the storyline itself feels fractured. Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle ended with a clear set up for the sequel (the guys go to Amsterdam to find Harold’s new love, Maria). It is as if this concept only resulted in only a handful of passable gags (all of which are weakly tacked onto the end of the movie) so the Guantanamo Bay concept was thrown into the mix. Trouble is that story element only lasts for about twenty minutes. The majority of the movie finds Harold and Kumar traveling from town to town in a manner nearly identical to that of the first film. When the jokes are funny this is not a problem; but when material falls flat, it starts to feel repetitive.
Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay maintains its appeal largely because of the charisma of Cho and Penn. They again come off as hilarious and relatable at the same time. The sign of a great buddy movie is when you would want to be buddies with the movie-buddies, and this is certainly the case here. Even when the gags seem tired (Kumar’s self-love scene) the commitment on the part of these actors keeps the audience rooting for the film. It is admirable that these filmmakers have created two films where Asian characters get to be the heroes (not the sidekicks), have success with girls, be positive role models, and of course smoke copious amounts of weed. The appeal of such work cannot be denied.
The question with Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay is do writers Jon Hurwitz and Hayden Schlossberg (who also take on directing this time out) have more exquisite toilet humor and social commentary (and then more toilet humor) to share with us? Or are they simply cashing in on the momentum caused by White Castle? The verdict is positive but a little murky. There is almost enough in this project to make it a viable sequel. There are some positively silly sequences (a flashback to Kumar’s first experiementation with marijuana) and some cutting social criticism (a look at the ridiculous nature of homophobia) but the storyline itself feels fractured. Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle ended with a clear set up for the sequel (the guys go to Amsterdam to find Harold’s new love, Maria). It is as if this concept only resulted in only a handful of passable gags (all of which are weakly tacked onto the end of the movie) so the Guantanamo Bay concept was thrown into the mix. Trouble is that story element only lasts for about twenty minutes. The majority of the movie finds Harold and Kumar traveling from town to town in a manner nearly identical to that of the first film. When the jokes are funny this is not a problem; but when material falls flat, it starts to feel repetitive.
Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay maintains its appeal largely because of the charisma of Cho and Penn. They again come off as hilarious and relatable at the same time. The sign of a great buddy movie is when you would want to be buddies with the movie-buddies, and this is certainly the case here. Even when the gags seem tired (Kumar’s self-love scene) the commitment on the part of these actors keeps the audience rooting for the film. It is admirable that these filmmakers have created two films where Asian characters get to be the heroes (not the sidekicks), have success with girls, be positive role models, and of course smoke copious amounts of weed. The appeal of such work cannot be denied.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Today on DVD: Dewey Cox drinks your milkshake?
There Will be Blood and Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story, two very disparate films, come DVD this week.
If you missed my review of There Will be Blood click here (be sure to check out the insightful comments section as well).
Several posts were generated by my review of Walk Hard. Check out the entire fracas here if you are so inclined.
For those of you uninterested in my longer, methodically constructed reviews of these movies, I offer these quick, off the cuff remarks about each:
There Will be Blood: If you missed this movie at the end of last year, seize the opportunity to see this film now. Whether you love it or hate it you will feel something, which is more than can be said for many recent releases. I plan on seeing the movie a second time now that it is available for home viewing. Many critics (as well as my lovely wife) swear that the movie takes on a whole new dimension upon second screening.
Walk Hard: This film is available in a longer “unrated” version on DVD. It is hard for me to believe that anything of value was left on the cutting room floor because the movie already felt bloated. I am sure this version will provide slightly different variations on the four jokes that were repeated throughout the movie. I must admit, however, I just found myself chuckling at the memory of a few choice gags. I’ll let you decide on this one.
If you missed my review of There Will be Blood click here (be sure to check out the insightful comments section as well).
Several posts were generated by my review of Walk Hard. Check out the entire fracas here if you are so inclined.
For those of you uninterested in my longer, methodically constructed reviews of these movies, I offer these quick, off the cuff remarks about each:
There Will be Blood: If you missed this movie at the end of last year, seize the opportunity to see this film now. Whether you love it or hate it you will feel something, which is more than can be said for many recent releases. I plan on seeing the movie a second time now that it is available for home viewing. Many critics (as well as my lovely wife) swear that the movie takes on a whole new dimension upon second screening.
Walk Hard: This film is available in a longer “unrated” version on DVD. It is hard for me to believe that anything of value was left on the cutting room floor because the movie already felt bloated. I am sure this version will provide slightly different variations on the four jokes that were repeated throughout the movie. I must admit, however, I just found myself chuckling at the memory of a few choice gags. I’ll let you decide on this one.
Monday, March 31, 2008
New to DVD: Sweeney Todd
Tim Burton was the obvious, if not only, choice of director to bring Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street to the screen. Stephen Sondheim’s musical (first seen on Broadway in 1979) has the mix of gore, humor, and quirkiness that Burton has been working with for years. The true fun comes from the fact that this is also a full on movie musical which is an entirely new realm for Burton to play in.
The atmospherics of Sweeney Todd are superb. The filmmakers have drained all but the smallest bit of color from 19th century industrial London. The city's pallor resembles that of Sweeney's victims. It is easy for viewers to lose themselves in the folds of the intricately dreary costumes (Depp in the saddest swimsuit ever filmed is a true highlight).
But this is to be expected from Burton’s crew, who at this point can whip up exquisite goth fantasies in their sleep (and they have the Oscars to prove it). What’s new about Sweeney Todd is the whole singing thing. The results are not entirely Broadway caliber. Johnny Depp’s intensity as an actor is compromised by a singing voice that veers into pop territory too often. Helena Bonham Carter portrayal of Mrs. Lovett (Sweeney’s pie baking accomplice) is delightfully devilish, but she doesn’t sell the songs the way Angela Lansbury did when she originated the role onstage.
These shortcomings actually make this movie more endearing. This film is a risk for Burton and his stars. There would have been no risk in choosing actors who had the proven chops for this score (which is by no means easy even by Broadway standards). Burton took a chance on two actors with whom he is very close. Johnny Depp has worked with the director five previous times; Helena Bonham Carter often stars in Burton’s movies and occasionally bears his children. The comfort level in this group of artists is such that they took professional risks many in Hollywood would shy away from. There is a thrill that comes from seeing A-listers put their all into something uncharted, even when total success isn’t achieved. Leaving the comfort zone is something that that should be encouraged in the movie making community.
In short, Sweeney Todd has a “warts and all” appeal that makes it a solid bet for your home viewing pleasure.
The atmospherics of Sweeney Todd are superb. The filmmakers have drained all but the smallest bit of color from 19th century industrial London. The city's pallor resembles that of Sweeney's victims. It is easy for viewers to lose themselves in the folds of the intricately dreary costumes (Depp in the saddest swimsuit ever filmed is a true highlight).
But this is to be expected from Burton’s crew, who at this point can whip up exquisite goth fantasies in their sleep (and they have the Oscars to prove it). What’s new about Sweeney Todd is the whole singing thing. The results are not entirely Broadway caliber. Johnny Depp’s intensity as an actor is compromised by a singing voice that veers into pop territory too often. Helena Bonham Carter portrayal of Mrs. Lovett (Sweeney’s pie baking accomplice) is delightfully devilish, but she doesn’t sell the songs the way Angela Lansbury did when she originated the role onstage.
These shortcomings actually make this movie more endearing. This film is a risk for Burton and his stars. There would have been no risk in choosing actors who had the proven chops for this score (which is by no means easy even by Broadway standards). Burton took a chance on two actors with whom he is very close. Johnny Depp has worked with the director five previous times; Helena Bonham Carter often stars in Burton’s movies and occasionally bears his children. The comfort level in this group of artists is such that they took professional risks many in Hollywood would shy away from. There is a thrill that comes from seeing A-listers put their all into something uncharted, even when total success isn’t achieved. Leaving the comfort zone is something that that should be encouraged in the movie making community.
In short, Sweeney Todd has a “warts and all” appeal that makes it a solid bet for your home viewing pleasure.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Classics Corner: The Great Dictator
When I am not playing critic extraordinaire, I moonlight as a World History teacher. One of the wonderful aspects of the job is sharing films with my students (and not just because movies have the uncanny ability to silence fifteen year olds). It is an interesting experience for me because I end up watching the movie five times, once with each class. As a result I end up with a better understanding of the piece than I had before I decided to screen it the first place (it also means that I can recite Super Size Me line for line, probably in reverse if needed).
Last week, just as the students were preparing for Spring Break, we watched Charlie Chaplin’s The Great Dictator. Screening the movie repeatedly left me with a few thoughts about the film, its triumphs, and its flaws.
It is striking how brave The Great Dictator is as parody and as social criticism. It was far easier for Mel Brooks to make fun of Hitler in The Producers some twenty-two years after his demise. It was far less subversive for Roberto Benigni to do it in Life is Beautiful which actually seems quaint by comparison. Charlie Chaplin began his film in 1937 (it was not finished and released until 1940) while the Furer was very much alive and still amassing power. Not only that but it was made at a time when the United States was not directly involved in the war so, unlike many of the Loony Tunes of the period which lampoon the Axis powers, this is not a propaganda piece. Chaplin takes a position far from the one actually used to enter the war: Hitler should be stopped for what he is doing to the Jews, not because of what he might eventually do to the United States. For the time this was quite a bold statement.
Besides being writer and director Chaplin takes on the film’s two main roles: that of a Jewish barber and of Adenoid Hynkel, the Dictator of Tomania. As the World’s greatest clown, Chaplin knows exactly how to harness his skills for maximum satirical effect. The barber’s encounter with the brown shirts and Hynkel’s ballet routine with an inflatable globe stand out as the most humorous and biting pieces of the film. It is wondrous to watch Chaplin’s use of vaudeville, an art so closely linked to the Jewish community, to tear Hitler’s façade as a modern leader to pieces.
The Great Dictator should be considered a masterpiece, but it is a flawed masterpiece. Chaplin’s first speaking role comes from a script that is laborious and redundant. The film’s two hour running time actually defuses the effectiveness of the social commentary (I was able to create an hour and twenty minutes version of for my students, if only I was an editor during the Greatest Generation). In a film about the rejection of fascism, the depiction of Benito Mussolini (Jack Oakie playing Benzino Napolini) as an Italian American goomba doesn’t quite gel. Chaplin’s final speech, when the barber is mistaken for Hynkel and must speak to the masses, is full of great sentiments about equality and peace. The trouble is it is also full of a great deal of awkward phrasing and repetitions.
This film still largely works as a comedy (it had modern day “urban” youths howling), as a warning against totalitarianism, and as an important piece of cinematic history. All would be well served to (re)visit it.
Last week, just as the students were preparing for Spring Break, we watched Charlie Chaplin’s The Great Dictator. Screening the movie repeatedly left me with a few thoughts about the film, its triumphs, and its flaws.
It is striking how brave The Great Dictator is as parody and as social criticism. It was far easier for Mel Brooks to make fun of Hitler in The Producers some twenty-two years after his demise. It was far less subversive for Roberto Benigni to do it in Life is Beautiful which actually seems quaint by comparison. Charlie Chaplin began his film in 1937 (it was not finished and released until 1940) while the Furer was very much alive and still amassing power. Not only that but it was made at a time when the United States was not directly involved in the war so, unlike many of the Loony Tunes of the period which lampoon the Axis powers, this is not a propaganda piece. Chaplin takes a position far from the one actually used to enter the war: Hitler should be stopped for what he is doing to the Jews, not because of what he might eventually do to the United States. For the time this was quite a bold statement.
Besides being writer and director Chaplin takes on the film’s two main roles: that of a Jewish barber and of Adenoid Hynkel, the Dictator of Tomania. As the World’s greatest clown, Chaplin knows exactly how to harness his skills for maximum satirical effect. The barber’s encounter with the brown shirts and Hynkel’s ballet routine with an inflatable globe stand out as the most humorous and biting pieces of the film. It is wondrous to watch Chaplin’s use of vaudeville, an art so closely linked to the Jewish community, to tear Hitler’s façade as a modern leader to pieces.
The Great Dictator should be considered a masterpiece, but it is a flawed masterpiece. Chaplin’s first speaking role comes from a script that is laborious and redundant. The film’s two hour running time actually defuses the effectiveness of the social commentary (I was able to create an hour and twenty minutes version of for my students, if only I was an editor during the Greatest Generation). In a film about the rejection of fascism, the depiction of Benito Mussolini (Jack Oakie playing Benzino Napolini) as an Italian American goomba doesn’t quite gel. Chaplin’s final speech, when the barber is mistaken for Hynkel and must speak to the masses, is full of great sentiments about equality and peace. The trouble is it is also full of a great deal of awkward phrasing and repetitions.
This film still largely works as a comedy (it had modern day “urban” youths howling), as a warning against totalitarianism, and as an important piece of cinematic history. All would be well served to (re)visit it.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Semi-Pro= Semi-Good (I apologize for that)
It is quite possible that a review of Semi-Pro is completely superfluous. If you have seen any of the movies that make up the centerpiece of Will Ferrell’s canon (as opposed to when he branches out in movies like Melinda and Melinda, Stranger Than Fiction or even Elf) you know what you are getting yourself into. If you haven’t seen Anchorman, Talladega Nights, Blades of Glory etc. it is most certainly because you are turned off by Farrell’s particular brand of comedy and do not intend to embrace it now. That being said, here are some observations about Semi-Pro that enthusiasts and detractors can both enjoy.
Will Ferrell and his compatriots have almost become a set of modern day Marx Brothers. Think about it: The actors play roughly the same character in each film (Ferrell’s overconfident buffoon carries the films in the same way Groucho’s over confident wiseacre did). The plot is little more than a backdrop for the bits and jokes (on this note I would say Ferrell and company do a slightly better job than the Marx Bros., I challenge anyone to remember the actual plot of any of their pictures). The humor is identical from movie to movie (Chico always got to play a hilarious piano solo; Jackie Moon’s battle with a bear in Semi-Pro is just like Ricky Bobby’s tussle with a cougar in Talladega Nights). Now there are classic Marx Brothers titles (Animal Crackers, Duck Soup and Horse Feathers being great examples) and there are those that are not nearly as memorable (The Big Store?). When all is said and done, the same will be true of the films of Will Farrell et al. It seems clear that Semi-Pro will not be on the list of films that endures.
Semi-Pro (the story of the Flint Tropics, a rag tag ABA team in the 1970s) just comes off as half-baked. For starters, it is comedy about basketball where the basketball sequences are not funny. Then there is a romance between Woody Harrelson and Maura Tierney that we expected to invest in for very little pay off. The vast majority of the humor comes from the lines and, while there are some great ones (a few of the ad libs come from a delightfully bizarre corner of Farrell’s brain), they are not enough to support a comedy where nothing funny actually happens on screen.
Being a movie about basketball in Detroit, there are more African-American roles in Semi-Pro than any previous Will Ferrell movie. It is a bit disconcerting that the three Black actors (Andre Benjamin, Jay Phillips, and DeRay Davis) who play Flint Tropics aren’t given much comedic material to work with. For the most part, these guys are used for reaction shots to the shenanigans of the white characters. It is sad that the frat boy humor isn’t universal enough to employ the talents of performers of color. When actors in the same movie can’t partake in the same type of humor because of their race. It shows how unnecessarily segregated the world of comedy is.
If you like this type of fare, you will laugh but not as much as you have in the past. If you aren’t on the bandwagon yet, this will not be the film that grabs hold of you so skip it. There simply wasn’t quite enough material for it to be a major motion picture. But have no fear, for playing before Semi-Pro is the trailer for Step Brothers, the next Will Ferrell movie where he plays an overconfident boob who ends up sharing bunk beds with John C. Reilly. Lets hope this more like Duck Soup and less like The Big Store.
Will Ferrell and his compatriots have almost become a set of modern day Marx Brothers. Think about it: The actors play roughly the same character in each film (Ferrell’s overconfident buffoon carries the films in the same way Groucho’s over confident wiseacre did). The plot is little more than a backdrop for the bits and jokes (on this note I would say Ferrell and company do a slightly better job than the Marx Bros., I challenge anyone to remember the actual plot of any of their pictures). The humor is identical from movie to movie (Chico always got to play a hilarious piano solo; Jackie Moon’s battle with a bear in Semi-Pro is just like Ricky Bobby’s tussle with a cougar in Talladega Nights). Now there are classic Marx Brothers titles (Animal Crackers, Duck Soup and Horse Feathers being great examples) and there are those that are not nearly as memorable (The Big Store?). When all is said and done, the same will be true of the films of Will Farrell et al. It seems clear that Semi-Pro will not be on the list of films that endures.
Semi-Pro (the story of the Flint Tropics, a rag tag ABA team in the 1970s) just comes off as half-baked. For starters, it is comedy about basketball where the basketball sequences are not funny. Then there is a romance between Woody Harrelson and Maura Tierney that we expected to invest in for very little pay off. The vast majority of the humor comes from the lines and, while there are some great ones (a few of the ad libs come from a delightfully bizarre corner of Farrell’s brain), they are not enough to support a comedy where nothing funny actually happens on screen.
Being a movie about basketball in Detroit, there are more African-American roles in Semi-Pro than any previous Will Ferrell movie. It is a bit disconcerting that the three Black actors (Andre Benjamin, Jay Phillips, and DeRay Davis) who play Flint Tropics aren’t given much comedic material to work with. For the most part, these guys are used for reaction shots to the shenanigans of the white characters. It is sad that the frat boy humor isn’t universal enough to employ the talents of performers of color. When actors in the same movie can’t partake in the same type of humor because of their race. It shows how unnecessarily segregated the world of comedy is.
If you like this type of fare, you will laugh but not as much as you have in the past. If you aren’t on the bandwagon yet, this will not be the film that grabs hold of you so skip it. There simply wasn’t quite enough material for it to be a major motion picture. But have no fear, for playing before Semi-Pro is the trailer for Step Brothers, the next Will Ferrell movie where he plays an overconfident boob who ends up sharing bunk beds with John C. Reilly. Lets hope this more like Duck Soup and less like The Big Store.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Have you heard of this thing called social networking?
Big News! The Middlebrow Film Society has invaded yourSpace and your Face(book)!
The Middlebrow Film Society now has a presence on both MySpace and Facebook.
Click on the name of your social networking site of choice to see the MFS pages.
Facebook is now home to a MFS group which you simply must join.
The next step is getting all of those cyber-friends of yours to become members of the Society, thus ensuring world domination.
The Middlebrow Film Society now has a presence on both MySpace and Facebook.
Click on the name of your social networking site of choice to see the MFS pages.
Facebook is now home to a MFS group which you simply must join.
The next step is getting all of those cyber-friends of yours to become members of the Society, thus ensuring world domination.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
One That Slipped Away: The Water Horse
The Kids’ Movie is in a troubled state. In recent years too many seem to be filled with sarcasm, pot shots, and hyperbolic performances. It is hard to find a trace of sincerity or gentility in these pictures. The effect of this work can be seen at any amusement park or shopping mall in America. In this setting you will see kids roll their eyes in an exaggerated fashion at their parents, snarl snappy comebacks for simple requests, put their hands to their hips and whine in kewpie doll tones. In my non-professional opinion all of this can be traced back to watching Surf’s Up on endless repeat in the back of the family Suburban.
The Shrek franchise is the current standard bearer of this vile form of entertainment (though Aladdin should be seen as the grandfather of the genre). With pop-culture addled scripts filled with the cheapest of laughs, these movies aim for the same tone as a teen comedy. This constant snarkiness has a jading effect on our youth. Kids should not feel like they are too cool for fairy tales. They should be enjoying them and using them as a springboard for their own imaginations.
A personal story serves the current purpose nicely: I had the pleasure of working with 5th graders the year that Shrek came to DVD (kids do not truly internalize these movies until they own a copy). Let me just say that no one needs to hear a class of white 11 year olds proclaim “I’m makin’ waffles!” in their best Black English accents ad nauseam. No one.
It is because of all of this that The Water Horse: Legend of the Deep is a welcome surprise. This Celtic King Kong story (in which a boy inadvertently raises the Loch Ness Monster in his bathtub) keeps it tongue out of its cheek for the entire film. In place of sarcasm and insults is a story that deals with loneliness, friendship, grief, and the Second World War from a child’s perspective. All of this is conveyed by a solid (not cute) young actor named Alex Etel (Millions). Though the story relies on a few well worn clichés, it also trusts its young audience to be able to handle some serious issues. It is that understanding of the complexity of the young mind that is lacking in Shrek and its ilk.
The Water Horse is based on a book by Dick King-Smith who also wrote the source material for Babe. These films share a similar mentality. A more recent movie that should also be seen by children is Akeelah and the Bee if only because it proves that spelling (and studying) is cool.
The truth of the matter is that kids will watch anything, so why do we adults subject them (and ourselves) to such terrible dreck? There are quality kids’ movies out there; true some are foreign and others are many years old but they exist. Find movies that promote love, sensitivity, and curiosity. Find movies that help kids deal with the realities of life. Most importantly find movies that don’t insult their intelligence.
When The Water Horse comes to DVD on April 8, watch it with a child in your life. They might be a bit scared at points, they may even cry but, I guarantee, they will be positively affected. I also guarantee that they won’t run around the house screaming some ridiculous catch phrase.
The Shrek franchise is the current standard bearer of this vile form of entertainment (though Aladdin should be seen as the grandfather of the genre). With pop-culture addled scripts filled with the cheapest of laughs, these movies aim for the same tone as a teen comedy. This constant snarkiness has a jading effect on our youth. Kids should not feel like they are too cool for fairy tales. They should be enjoying them and using them as a springboard for their own imaginations.
A personal story serves the current purpose nicely: I had the pleasure of working with 5th graders the year that Shrek came to DVD (kids do not truly internalize these movies until they own a copy). Let me just say that no one needs to hear a class of white 11 year olds proclaim “I’m makin’ waffles!” in their best Black English accents ad nauseam. No one.
It is because of all of this that The Water Horse: Legend of the Deep is a welcome surprise. This Celtic King Kong story (in which a boy inadvertently raises the Loch Ness Monster in his bathtub) keeps it tongue out of its cheek for the entire film. In place of sarcasm and insults is a story that deals with loneliness, friendship, grief, and the Second World War from a child’s perspective. All of this is conveyed by a solid (not cute) young actor named Alex Etel (Millions). Though the story relies on a few well worn clichés, it also trusts its young audience to be able to handle some serious issues. It is that understanding of the complexity of the young mind that is lacking in Shrek and its ilk.
The Water Horse is based on a book by Dick King-Smith who also wrote the source material for Babe. These films share a similar mentality. A more recent movie that should also be seen by children is Akeelah and the Bee if only because it proves that spelling (and studying) is cool.
The truth of the matter is that kids will watch anything, so why do we adults subject them (and ourselves) to such terrible dreck? There are quality kids’ movies out there; true some are foreign and others are many years old but they exist. Find movies that promote love, sensitivity, and curiosity. Find movies that help kids deal with the realities of life. Most importantly find movies that don’t insult their intelligence.
When The Water Horse comes to DVD on April 8, watch it with a child in your life. They might be a bit scared at points, they may even cry but, I guarantee, they will be positively affected. I also guarantee that they won’t run around the house screaming some ridiculous catch phrase.
Monday, February 25, 2008
The Day After
Well it was a long Oscar season which, in retrospect was full of many solid films. The show itself was very watchable, perhaps because foreign winners don't seem to be contractually obligated to thank their lawyers. I found Jon Stewart quite amusing (though there are plenty out there who would disagree with me). It was nice to see a some brothers who have entertained me since childhood clean up and bring their idiosyncrasies to the podium. I was shocked at the low level of cynicism I felt throughout the telecast. Now if they could just bring themselves to cut out the message from the Academy president...
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Segment #11
BEST DIRECTOR: This puts NCFOM as heavy favorite for the big award.
I love these guys. Now I love my two brothers, but I wish I was in their family.
I love these guys. Now I love my two brothers, but I wish I was in their family.
Segment #10
BEST ACTOR: Helen Mirren's sparkly robo-sleeves are intoxicating.
Daniel Day Lewis is no surprise but satisfying just the same. DDL (as I call him) really WAS There Will be Blood. Paul Thomas Anderson has said that he would not make the film if Day-Lewis decided not to star.
FUN FACT: DDL is one of the only A-listers without an agent (thanks, Alex).
Daniel Day Lewis is no surprise but satisfying just the same. DDL (as I call him) really WAS There Will be Blood. Paul Thomas Anderson has said that he would not make the film if Day-Lewis decided not to star.
FUN FACT: DDL is one of the only A-listers without an agent (thanks, Alex).
Segment #9
It was an interesting juxtaposition to have American soldiers present an award moments before the documentary feature award went to a film about American soldiers torturing Iraqis.
Diablo Cody! Are you kidding me? I have nothing to say so I will steal a line from Ms. Cody's stellar script and say "Oh my Blog!"
Diablo Cody! Are you kidding me? I have nothing to say so I will steal a line from Ms. Cody's stellar script and say "Oh my Blog!"
Segment #8
Jon Stewart deserves a humanitarian award for allowing that adorable piano player come out and finish her acceptance speech. Markéta Irglová made her second chance worth every moment with another great thank you.
This year seems long on nice speeches and short on thanking agents and managers. That is a nice change but now I am starting to feel sorry for all the agents and managers out there who are getting no love.
This year seems long on nice speeches and short on thanking agents and managers. That is a nice change but now I am starting to feel sorry for all the agents and managers out there who are getting no love.
Segment #7
Renee Zellweger gets the award for buff squinty alien with sloppy pixie cut.
My friend Jessica just admitted that she has seen The Russians are Coming! The Russians are Coming! twice in the last month. Isn't that weird?
That was one of the most inspiring honorary Oscars in recent memory. I hope to be that enthusiastic about movies when I am 98.
Guttenburg update: It appears that the only reason Steve Guttenburg got a ticket was because he is going to be on Dancing with the Stars. That makes more sense.
Glad to know that Patrick Dempsey is both "Handsome and versatile".
Was that Amy Adams dancing during that terrible Enchanted song?
BEST SONG: Leave it to the Irish to take down the Disney juggernaut! That was truly an excellent speech. Though that was a particularly cruel musical send off.
My friend Jessica just admitted that she has seen The Russians are Coming! The Russians are Coming! twice in the last month. Isn't that weird?
That was one of the most inspiring honorary Oscars in recent memory. I hope to be that enthusiastic about movies when I am 98.
Guttenburg update: It appears that the only reason Steve Guttenburg got a ticket was because he is going to be on Dancing with the Stars. That makes more sense.
Glad to know that Patrick Dempsey is both "Handsome and versatile".
Was that Amy Adams dancing during that terrible Enchanted song?
BEST SONG: Leave it to the Irish to take down the Disney juggernaut! That was truly an excellent speech. Though that was a particularly cruel musical send off.
Segment #6
Jonah Hill and Seth Rogan show us how nice it is to actually have funny people deliver Oscar patter.
Sell your stock in Hasbro, those Transformers have been rejected again and again. Apparently the sounds of cars becoming robots didn't impress the Academy.
BEST ACTRESS: HOORAY! This award drew applause from the couches and chairs in my house. Marion Cotillard was great on screen and at the podium. Everyone should thank love in their acceptance speech, though Marion may have done it because she has a limited English vocabulary.
Sell your stock in Hasbro, those Transformers have been rejected again and again. Apparently the sounds of cars becoming robots didn't impress the Academy.
BEST ACTRESS: HOORAY! This award drew applause from the couches and chairs in my house. Marion Cotillard was great on screen and at the podium. Everyone should thank love in their acceptance speech, though Marion may have done it because she has a limited English vocabulary.
Segment #5
The Academy always gets a comely actress to host the Technical Awards show. Bet those nerds were sad that Jessica Alba is pregnant.
Another Jack joke and reaction shot. That's three in an hour and fifteen minutes. Then another one occurred two minutes later.
BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY: Those shots of the screenwriters writing are ridiculous!
It is always nice to see the Coens get awards even if it is not for Big Lebowski.
Another Jack joke and reaction shot. That's three in an hour and fifteen minutes. Then another one occurred two minutes later.
BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY: Those shots of the screenwriters writing are ridiculous!
It is always nice to see the Coens get awards even if it is not for Big Lebowski.
Segment #4
Stewart's montage of montages had the entire living room in stitches, which is rare for Oscar comedy.
Jon Stewart suffered his first case of awkwardness when he said that Hal Holbrook was doing the "Cabin Patch". Don't let it shake you, Jon!
The song from August Rush is the night's first official lull. Bathroom breaks across the world.
The bee montage=LAME! Must we have an animated presenter each year?
BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR:
Ruby Dee looked shocked to see that she was in American Gangster.do you pronounce the name of that little Irish girl from Atonement?
How
Tila Swinton, big surprise! Her speech was a little daffy (mention of both buttocks and nipples) and crowd pleasing.
Jon Stewart suffered his first case of awkwardness when he said that Hal Holbrook was doing the "Cabin Patch". Don't let it shake you, Jon!
The song from August Rush is the night's first official lull. Bathroom breaks across the world.
The bee montage=LAME! Must we have an animated presenter each year?
BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR:
Ruby Dee looked shocked to see that she was in American Gangster.do you pronounce the name of that little Irish girl from Atonement?
How
Tila Swinton, big surprise! Her speech was a little daffy (mention of both buttocks and nipples) and crowd pleasing.
Segment #3
The Rock is an excellent actor, though he shines brighter when wearing black bikini briefs.
Best Visual Effects: Hasbro's Transformers have suffered their first loss.
I love the technical awards because it is chance for hard core nerds to change out of their black T-shirts and rub elbows with the stars.
Best Art Direction: Sweeney Todd snags a well deserved statuette.
I am still sick of Jennifer Hudson. And Kate Hudson, for that matter.
BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR:
Hal Oldbrook?
My friend Brady would like to request a George Clooney-Tom Wilkinson sandwich.
Javier Bardem's speech was nice and sincere and intercontinental.
There hasn't been a lame acceptance speech yet.
Best Visual Effects: Hasbro's Transformers have suffered their first loss.
I love the technical awards because it is chance for hard core nerds to change out of their black T-shirts and rub elbows with the stars.
Best Art Direction: Sweeney Todd snags a well deserved statuette.
I am still sick of Jennifer Hudson. And Kate Hudson, for that matter.
BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR:
Hal Oldbrook?
My friend Brady would like to request a George Clooney-Tom Wilkinson sandwich.
Javier Bardem's speech was nice and sincere and intercontinental.
There hasn't been a lame acceptance speech yet.
Segment #2
Update from segment #1: Elizabeth was a pretty easy choice for best costume. Bodices and crazy wigs still wow the voters. It is hard to see how Atonement was passed up. Though, that costume designer was a kooky fox.
Segment two was full of cuteness:
It's good to see George Clooney has rid himself of the puffiness that plagued him during Michael Clayton. His eagerness to please us is still disarming.
Best Animated Feature: Surf's Up was clearly robbed, right?
Best Makeup: Katherine Heigl's nervousness was refreshing! La Vie en Rose's win was quite deserved as well.
Amy Adams is adorable, and if she ever falls on hard times could certainly get a job at Disneyland.
Segment two was full of cuteness:
It's good to see George Clooney has rid himself of the puffiness that plagued him during Michael Clayton. His eagerness to please us is still disarming.
Best Animated Feature: Surf's Up was clearly robbed, right?
Best Makeup: Katherine Heigl's nervousness was refreshing! La Vie en Rose's win was quite deserved as well.
Amy Adams is adorable, and if she ever falls on hard times could certainly get a job at Disneyland.
Segment #1
Jon Stewart's opening "make up sex" joke fell flat but delivered a series of good bits to follow it up. A nice mix of edginess (Gaydolf Titler!) with more traditional fare (lawyer jokes!). He is off to a solid start. His low key approach is winning him points in my living room.
Two Jack Nicholson reaction shots in the first 5 minutes. It is nice to know that somethings never go out of style.
Wesley Snipes and Spike Lee got the honor of being cut to after the night's first racial joke; it is sad to know some things never go out of style.
Barbara Streisand's attempt at humility in the look back at her Oscar win shows that she isn't that great of an actress.
Two Jack Nicholson reaction shots in the first 5 minutes. It is nice to know that somethings never go out of style.
Wesley Snipes and Spike Lee got the honor of being cut to after the night's first racial joke; it is sad to know some things never go out of style.
Barbara Streisand's attempt at humility in the look back at her Oscar win shows that she isn't that great of an actress.
Oscar Pre-Show coverage
The snacks are set, the predictions are in and the pre-show has begun.
I have assembled a crack team of movie aficionados to help me fill the evening with comments both snarky and sincere.
Here is what we have learned so far:
SEXUAL ASSAULT ALERT: Gary Busey has struck again, kissing a shocked Jennifer Garner on the neck. Mothers, lock up your daughters.
John Travolta's spray-on hair has powers, evil powers.
Regis Philbin can do a better interview than Ryan Seacrest even though he appears to be almost completely deaf.
Steve Guttenburg seems to have gotten an invitation Oscars, so there is hope for all of us.
Mickey Rooney is alive and still adorable.
Ellen Page still has some work to do to prove that she is not a pretentious hipster snob.
Well, as Regis just said "Everything is in readiness". It is time for the show. Check back in at the first break!
I have assembled a crack team of movie aficionados to help me fill the evening with comments both snarky and sincere.
Here is what we have learned so far:
SEXUAL ASSAULT ALERT: Gary Busey has struck again, kissing a shocked Jennifer Garner on the neck. Mothers, lock up your daughters.
John Travolta's spray-on hair has powers, evil powers.
Regis Philbin can do a better interview than Ryan Seacrest even though he appears to be almost completely deaf.
Steve Guttenburg seems to have gotten an invitation Oscars, so there is hope for all of us.
Mickey Rooney is alive and still adorable.
Ellen Page still has some work to do to prove that she is not a pretentious hipster snob.
Well, as Regis just said "Everything is in readiness". It is time for the show. Check back in at the first break!
10 Second Oscar Reviews
In case you missed one of the best picture films, here are short reviews of each. Now you have something to say about each of them, no matter who wins.
Juno is an amusing comedy for the 14 year old pregnant girl in all of us. Its just not best picture (or director, or screenplay or actress) material.
There Will be Blood is the work of a talented auteur who has taken his craft to the next level. Whether it appealed to you or not you must admit this movie is way more than a line about milkshakes.
No Country for Old Men is more evidence that no one can tell a story quite like the Coen brothers. This film does not ooze originality in the way that many of their past tales have, but the quality of the work is undeniable.
Atonement deserves credit for revamping the wartorn romance genre(which is itself rather wartorn). This is a visual masterwork that could be enjoyed with the sound off (though you would miss the cool typewriter music).
Michael Clayton plays like a gripping, intelligent thriller straight out of the 70’s school of cinema. Once everything is unraveled, however, the viewer is left with surprisingly little to ponder.
Juno is an amusing comedy for the 14 year old pregnant girl in all of us. Its just not best picture (or director, or screenplay or actress) material.
There Will be Blood is the work of a talented auteur who has taken his craft to the next level. Whether it appealed to you or not you must admit this movie is way more than a line about milkshakes.
No Country for Old Men is more evidence that no one can tell a story quite like the Coen brothers. This film does not ooze originality in the way that many of their past tales have, but the quality of the work is undeniable.
Atonement deserves credit for revamping the wartorn romance genre(which is itself rather wartorn). This is a visual masterwork that could be enjoyed with the sound off (though you would miss the cool typewriter music).
Michael Clayton plays like a gripping, intelligent thriller straight out of the 70’s school of cinema. Once everything is unraveled, however, the viewer is left with surprisingly little to ponder.
Friday, February 22, 2008
How to Host a Superior Oscar Party #2
Today’s Topic: Snacks
There are a number of factors to take into consideration when it comes to Oscar food. Do you go with overly cute themed items (i.e. No Casserole for Old Men washed down with Gin and Juno)? How do you ensure that the food isn’t so crunchy that you can’t hear the nerdy visual effects guys accept their awards? These questions can be stressful.
Since the Oscars are a fancy event for the movies why not serve fancy versions of movie food? Here are some suggestions:
Elegant popcorn bar: Give each attendee a small bowl of popcorn. Lay out as many ingredients and additions that you can find in your cabinets (spices, candy, tuna, don’t limit your creativity). Have each person make their own artisan popcorn creation. Then hold a taste test and declare a winner.
Goobers and Raisinettes are great but they are often stale coming out of the box. Solve this problem by melting chocolate and making fresh versions of these movie theater staples. Don’t limit yourself to raisins and peanuts, I bet Craisinettes would be excellent.
The possibilities are endless but I am sure that adding class to any movie snack will add a dash of class to your party, even if it is not black tie.
There are a number of factors to take into consideration when it comes to Oscar food. Do you go with overly cute themed items (i.e. No Casserole for Old Men washed down with Gin and Juno)? How do you ensure that the food isn’t so crunchy that you can’t hear the nerdy visual effects guys accept their awards? These questions can be stressful.
Since the Oscars are a fancy event for the movies why not serve fancy versions of movie food? Here are some suggestions:
Elegant popcorn bar: Give each attendee a small bowl of popcorn. Lay out as many ingredients and additions that you can find in your cabinets (spices, candy, tuna, don’t limit your creativity). Have each person make their own artisan popcorn creation. Then hold a taste test and declare a winner.
Goobers and Raisinettes are great but they are often stale coming out of the box. Solve this problem by melting chocolate and making fresh versions of these movie theater staples. Don’t limit yourself to raisins and peanuts, I bet Craisinettes would be excellent.
The possibilities are endless but I am sure that adding class to any movie snack will add a dash of class to your party, even if it is not black tie.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
How to Host a Superior Oscar Party #1
Today’s Topic: Oscar Polls
Oscar polls are a staple of any upstanding Oscar party. However, the concept needs a bit of spicing up. Here are some suggestions for creating memorable Oscar polls.
1. Pick who you actually want to win.
I have spent many an Oscar night strategizing how to win the poll only to find myself rooting for movies that I didn’t actually enjoy. For a more enjoyable experience, have attendees fill out their ballots based on their personal preference (be honest!), not the odds on favorites. This way you can give out a Happiest Viewer Award (to the person who had the most choices actually win) and a Most Avant Garde Viewer Award (for the person who had the fewest winners on their list.
2. Switch up the prizes.
Traditional Oscar polls have each attendee put some money in a pot and the winner takes the spoils. Not only is this practice played out, but it reinforces how commercial the movie industry is. Instead have each person bring a white elephant gift, throw them in a bag and the winner takes home a whole bunch of odds and ends (gum, coupons, hair products, etc.) Or, create a treasure chest like they have at the dentist’s office. Fill it with little baubles and each time someone makes an accurate prediction have them take a trip to the treasure box. This will surely pass the time during any montages or dance numbers.
3. Don’t just predict winners.
Make up other categories to place wagers on that will keep you engaged throughout the evening. Predict how many times producers will cut to Jack Nicholson for a reaction shot. Which presenter will be the first to stumble over the words on the teleprompter? How many winners will be shooed off by the orchestra? Have each attendee come up with a category and play until everyone is a winner.
Please post any other ideas and suggestions in the comments section.
Stay tuned for more amazing tips...
Oscar polls are a staple of any upstanding Oscar party. However, the concept needs a bit of spicing up. Here are some suggestions for creating memorable Oscar polls.
1. Pick who you actually want to win.
I have spent many an Oscar night strategizing how to win the poll only to find myself rooting for movies that I didn’t actually enjoy. For a more enjoyable experience, have attendees fill out their ballots based on their personal preference (be honest!), not the odds on favorites. This way you can give out a Happiest Viewer Award (to the person who had the most choices actually win) and a Most Avant Garde Viewer Award (for the person who had the fewest winners on their list.
2. Switch up the prizes.
Traditional Oscar polls have each attendee put some money in a pot and the winner takes the spoils. Not only is this practice played out, but it reinforces how commercial the movie industry is. Instead have each person bring a white elephant gift, throw them in a bag and the winner takes home a whole bunch of odds and ends (gum, coupons, hair products, etc.) Or, create a treasure chest like they have at the dentist’s office. Fill it with little baubles and each time someone makes an accurate prediction have them take a trip to the treasure box. This will surely pass the time during any montages or dance numbers.
3. Don’t just predict winners.
Make up other categories to place wagers on that will keep you engaged throughout the evening. Predict how many times producers will cut to Jack Nicholson for a reaction shot. Which presenter will be the first to stumble over the words on the teleprompter? How many winners will be shooed off by the orchestra? Have each attendee come up with a category and play until everyone is a winner.
Please post any other ideas and suggestions in the comments section.
Stay tuned for more amazing tips...
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
The MFS' Web Based Oscar Party
The Middlebrow Film Society is proud to announce live Oscar updates from my living room! As we all know the 80th Academy Awards will air this Sunday February 24th at 5pm in Hollywood and 8pm in New York. It is a big night for movies and the Society is going to celebrate in a special way.
Here is the deal: Check this website during each commercial break for insights, predictions and snide comments from yours truly and my panel of non-celebrity pundits. There will be space for you to add updates from your Oscar party as well. It will be like we are all trash talking together!
Watch the site in the days ahead for predictions, laments, and recipes to get you ready for an award winning Oscar Sunday. Hey, you could serve Oscar Sundaes On Oscar Sunday!. There are plenty more ideas to come...
Here is the deal: Check this website during each commercial break for insights, predictions and snide comments from yours truly and my panel of non-celebrity pundits. There will be space for you to add updates from your Oscar party as well. It will be like we are all trash talking together!
Watch the site in the days ahead for predictions, laments, and recipes to get you ready for an award winning Oscar Sunday. Hey, you could serve Oscar Sundaes On Oscar Sunday!. There are plenty more ideas to come...
Thursday, February 14, 2008
A Valentine to Juno; or How Pulp Fiction Saved My Life
I want to apologize to Juno. In order to do that we need to take a trip in the way back machine...
In the fall of 1994, I had a transformative experience. An experience that I recall here in startling detail. I remember being dropped off at the Century 10 (it would later be rebuilt as the Century 16) Cinemas in Mountain View, California. Indian summer was waning and there was a chill in the air. I remember sitting in the second row of the theater with three friends, one named Nick and two named Alex. I remember the twenty-something goobery guys in front of us who chatted endlessly before the lights dimmed. I remember that the movie started forty minutes late, though I don’t think that a rationale for this was ever supplied. Perhaps just to build anticipation. I remember all this before one centimeter of celluloid was projected.
Pulp Fiction was over 154 minutes later and I was a changed fourteen-year old man. I was certain no film would ever matter to me as much as Pulp Fiction. I now had a concrete definition of cool and it involved large helpings of blaxsploitation, Dick Dale, and Royales with Cheese. The film became a focal point of my social life. My friend’s and I devoured the soundtrack and the paperback version of the script. I performed Jules’ speech from the diner in my 9th Intro to Drama class. I immediately started typing out a script on my Macintosh Performa (it never got past the first page but it involved a car full of cool cats in on the run from the law and about 36 pop culture references, many from movies I had never seen). I even borrowed my mom’s bible and looked up a certain passage about the path of the righteous man.
Fast forward. I am now twice the age I was on that October night and I can no longer watch more than eight minutes of Pulp Fiction at a stretch. I find it hopelessly dated and chock full of hard to swallow dialogue (which I still have memorized). Perhaps it also reminds me of a time when I was at the apex of adolescent awkwardness. That being said, I still love this film for showing me the force that the medium can have. Seen at the right time of life, a movie can make you feel connected to a world that you have no physical connection to. Quentin Tarantino’s imagination reached out and grabbed hold of me. His movie validated my sensibilities about art which were only in their earliest stages. Because Pulp Fiction existed, there must be something right about the world.
What does this have to do with Juno? As I have observed the outpouring of elation over a movie that I found rather jejune, I had a revelation. The dialogue hit my adult ears just like the lines in Pulp Fiction do. This movie is not for me. This movie is for all of those fourteen year olds out there who think they are smarter than everyone else in the 9th grade and most of the teachers. Not book smart, but world-wise. For those kids, Juno is a sign of life, a touchstone, in a world where they are expected to accept Meet the Spartans as entertainment.
In the early spring of 1995 I sat in front of my television and made a wish. I wished that Pulp Fiction would win the Academy Award for Best Picture. I wished that Forrest Gump would be exposed as drivel and Quentin would get to bask in the glory of Oscar. I wanted him to be rewarded for giving me and my friends something to rally behind, something to identify with (though none of us has ever come close to shoving a hypodermic needle through someone’s breast plate). I am sure there are kids out there who have the same wish for Juno. My feeling is if this movie is providing these kids something along the lines of my Pulp Fiction odyssey, it has more value than I initially thought. Perhaps it merits a humanitarian award instead of an Oscar.
In the fall of 1994, I had a transformative experience. An experience that I recall here in startling detail. I remember being dropped off at the Century 10 (it would later be rebuilt as the Century 16) Cinemas in Mountain View, California. Indian summer was waning and there was a chill in the air. I remember sitting in the second row of the theater with three friends, one named Nick and two named Alex. I remember the twenty-something goobery guys in front of us who chatted endlessly before the lights dimmed. I remember that the movie started forty minutes late, though I don’t think that a rationale for this was ever supplied. Perhaps just to build anticipation. I remember all this before one centimeter of celluloid was projected.
Pulp Fiction was over 154 minutes later and I was a changed fourteen-year old man. I was certain no film would ever matter to me as much as Pulp Fiction. I now had a concrete definition of cool and it involved large helpings of blaxsploitation, Dick Dale, and Royales with Cheese. The film became a focal point of my social life. My friend’s and I devoured the soundtrack and the paperback version of the script. I performed Jules’ speech from the diner in my 9th Intro to Drama class. I immediately started typing out a script on my Macintosh Performa (it never got past the first page but it involved a car full of cool cats in on the run from the law and about 36 pop culture references, many from movies I had never seen). I even borrowed my mom’s bible and looked up a certain passage about the path of the righteous man.
Fast forward. I am now twice the age I was on that October night and I can no longer watch more than eight minutes of Pulp Fiction at a stretch. I find it hopelessly dated and chock full of hard to swallow dialogue (which I still have memorized). Perhaps it also reminds me of a time when I was at the apex of adolescent awkwardness. That being said, I still love this film for showing me the force that the medium can have. Seen at the right time of life, a movie can make you feel connected to a world that you have no physical connection to. Quentin Tarantino’s imagination reached out and grabbed hold of me. His movie validated my sensibilities about art which were only in their earliest stages. Because Pulp Fiction existed, there must be something right about the world.
What does this have to do with Juno? As I have observed the outpouring of elation over a movie that I found rather jejune, I had a revelation. The dialogue hit my adult ears just like the lines in Pulp Fiction do. This movie is not for me. This movie is for all of those fourteen year olds out there who think they are smarter than everyone else in the 9th grade and most of the teachers. Not book smart, but world-wise. For those kids, Juno is a sign of life, a touchstone, in a world where they are expected to accept Meet the Spartans as entertainment.
In the early spring of 1995 I sat in front of my television and made a wish. I wished that Pulp Fiction would win the Academy Award for Best Picture. I wished that Forrest Gump would be exposed as drivel and Quentin would get to bask in the glory of Oscar. I wanted him to be rewarded for giving me and my friends something to rally behind, something to identify with (though none of us has ever come close to shoving a hypodermic needle through someone’s breast plate). I am sure there are kids out there who have the same wish for Juno. My feeling is if this movie is providing these kids something along the lines of my Pulp Fiction odyssey, it has more value than I initially thought. Perhaps it merits a humanitarian award instead of an Oscar.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
A Paper Anniversary for a Paperless Publication
A year ago today the Middlebrow Film Society was launched. What started as an idea that I was sure I would never get around to has turned into quite a nice little corner of the internet (if I do say so myself). I want to thank anyone who has ever laid eyes on this page even if it was by mistake (sorry if you were looking for some sort of filmy substance that removes your middlebrow). I love movies more than I did a year ago because I get to share ideas and feelings with each of you.
A special thank you goes to those of you who have written articles and posted comments (though some of you need to learn how to sign a proper name on the byline). A goal for this year will be to get more voices onto the page. Another goal is also to finish watching all of those terrible movies you submitted and choose a winner, though thinking about screening any of the Look Who’s Talking movies right now is unsettling to my stomach.
As your chairman, I am very grateful for your patronage. Cheers to you and here is to another wonderful year!
A special thank you goes to those of you who have written articles and posted comments (though some of you need to learn how to sign a proper name on the byline). A goal for this year will be to get more voices onto the page. Another goal is also to finish watching all of those terrible movies you submitted and choose a winner, though thinking about screening any of the Look Who’s Talking movies right now is unsettling to my stomach.
As your chairman, I am very grateful for your patronage. Cheers to you and here is to another wonderful year!
Thursday, January 31, 2008
A Review of the Movie The Assasination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford by the Critic Nat Pickering for the Middlebrow Film Society
This film went largely unnoticed in the theaters last fall, but it deserves a second life now that it is available for home viewing. …Jesse James… features great interplay between a stable of exciting actors (Brad Pitt, Casey Affleck, and Sam Rockwell get the most screen time, but their supporting players are just as compelling). Writer Director Andrew Dominik (Chopper) has removed machismo and swagger from the Western and replaced both with ample portions of paranoia and psychological torment. Perhaps the film's greatest achievement is that it is able to build suspense and interest for an event that is a foregone conclusion (the title describes the climax pretty clearly) over two and a half hours and the viewer does not leave feeling ripped off. Don’t be scared by the long title and running time. You will be surprised that this movie did not cause more commotion upon its initial release.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Teeth: the film that bit off more than it could chew
WARNING: This review contains words of a frank, anitomical nature. If you are in middle school or still giggle at Summer's Eve cmmercials you may find what follows to be a bit uncomfortable.
Teeth is the story of Dawn (Jess Weixler), an abstinent teenager who happens to have razor sharp teeth in her vagina. The movie (written and directed by Mitchell Lichtenstein) is both an exploration of the stress that comes with teenage sexuality and a look at the misogyny that has become so engrained in the horror genre. The trouble is that it is not an entirely successful exploration of either of these topics.
As Dawn struggles with her dual urges for purity and sex the viewer is reminded of a truism of our culture: there is no established road for females to embrace their sexuality. While boys can find validation in the innumerable “losing it films” (from Porky’s to American Pie), girls are left largely in the dark. It is as if our culture is scared of the consequences of true female sexuality, which is why it takes a horror movie to point this out.
Lichtenstein goes on to critique the horror genre as well. As Dawn’s vagina goes on the offensive, there is a series of mangled penis shots presented in true slasher film fashion. Audience members have a clear visceral reaction to the site of full frontal castration shots. This footage serves to counteract the dozens of bloodied female nudes that have appeared in horror movies in the past few years alone. The shock that we feel when we see dismembered male members on screen should remind us to be shocked when we see similar things happen to women in most run-of-the mill horror flicks.
For all of its good intentions, the fact remains that Teeth is not that great. After viewing the movie, most people will think “I could have come up with a more clever killer vagina movie.” With more thought (not a bigger budget), Teeth could have been up there with Eating Raul (one of the best low-budget-campy-subversive-horror-comedies ever). But sadly, it is little more than a great concept, some nice performances, and tons of wasted potential.
But let’s end on a positive note. Teeth is risky and rough around the edges. It is the kind of work that is a good antidote for the banality found in so many theaters. In a year when star-studded movies like Juno and I’m Not There get nominated for Independent Spirit Awards, it is nice to see a movie with true indie sensibilities. Not only does the film get solid performances out of its cast of little-knowns (particularly Weixler whose facial expressions carry the whole movie) but it also tackles a topic that the studios would run from (I dream of the day when Keira Knightley has the guts to announce she will be starring in a movie about ravenous genitals). Since the “indie revolution” of the early nineties, independent filmmakers have been doing their best to make their work seem more and more seamless and professional. We already have that kind of movie; the studios produce a gaggle of them each year. Though a bit unsuccessful, Teeth does not feel compelled to play by many rules. For this it deserves recognition.
My thanks to Ailey Kato and Katie Haas for serving as editors on this piece. It needed a woman's bite, I mean touch.
Teeth is the story of Dawn (Jess Weixler), an abstinent teenager who happens to have razor sharp teeth in her vagina. The movie (written and directed by Mitchell Lichtenstein) is both an exploration of the stress that comes with teenage sexuality and a look at the misogyny that has become so engrained in the horror genre. The trouble is that it is not an entirely successful exploration of either of these topics.
As Dawn struggles with her dual urges for purity and sex the viewer is reminded of a truism of our culture: there is no established road for females to embrace their sexuality. While boys can find validation in the innumerable “losing it films” (from Porky’s to American Pie), girls are left largely in the dark. It is as if our culture is scared of the consequences of true female sexuality, which is why it takes a horror movie to point this out.
Lichtenstein goes on to critique the horror genre as well. As Dawn’s vagina goes on the offensive, there is a series of mangled penis shots presented in true slasher film fashion. Audience members have a clear visceral reaction to the site of full frontal castration shots. This footage serves to counteract the dozens of bloodied female nudes that have appeared in horror movies in the past few years alone. The shock that we feel when we see dismembered male members on screen should remind us to be shocked when we see similar things happen to women in most run-of-the mill horror flicks.
For all of its good intentions, the fact remains that Teeth is not that great. After viewing the movie, most people will think “I could have come up with a more clever killer vagina movie.” With more thought (not a bigger budget), Teeth could have been up there with Eating Raul (one of the best low-budget-campy-subversive-horror-comedies ever). But sadly, it is little more than a great concept, some nice performances, and tons of wasted potential.
But let’s end on a positive note. Teeth is risky and rough around the edges. It is the kind of work that is a good antidote for the banality found in so many theaters. In a year when star-studded movies like Juno and I’m Not There get nominated for Independent Spirit Awards, it is nice to see a movie with true indie sensibilities. Not only does the film get solid performances out of its cast of little-knowns (particularly Weixler whose facial expressions carry the whole movie) but it also tackles a topic that the studios would run from (I dream of the day when Keira Knightley has the guts to announce she will be starring in a movie about ravenous genitals). Since the “indie revolution” of the early nineties, independent filmmakers have been doing their best to make their work seem more and more seamless and professional. We already have that kind of movie; the studios produce a gaggle of them each year. Though a bit unsuccessful, Teeth does not feel compelled to play by many rules. For this it deserves recognition.
My thanks to Ailey Kato and Katie Haas for serving as editors on this piece. It needed a woman's bite, I mean touch.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Charlie Wilson's War
To use an unnecessary sports analogy, Charlie Wilson’s War is batting .500. The film’s politically incorrect depiction of Washington in the pre-Anita Hill era turns out to be the main source of its fun. Tom Hanks revels in Wilson’s overly boozy persona and his energy is infectious. There is almost a classic screwball comedy feel to these sequences. Aaron Sorkin’s script cleverly infuses the fluff with some pretty complex geopolitical plot points. Viewers are given insight into the legislative branch as well as the details of the waning years of the Cold War politics without having to break more than a minor sweat.
While the scene’s in D.C. have a real sense of time and place, the scenes in Afghanistan look like outtakes from Hot Shots Part Deux. Lame CGI explosions and odd comic relief fill what is should be the emotional core of the film. Had these sequences been given a harsh sense of realism they would have been a poignant juxtaposition to the lighthearted inside the beltway stuff. The movie could have easily moved into the ranks of the classic political films like Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (or at least Dave) had they handled their foreign storyline as well as the domestic one.
While the scene’s in D.C. have a real sense of time and place, the scenes in Afghanistan look like outtakes from Hot Shots Part Deux. Lame CGI explosions and odd comic relief fill what is should be the emotional core of the film. Had these sequences been given a harsh sense of realism they would have been a poignant juxtaposition to the lighthearted inside the beltway stuff. The movie could have easily moved into the ranks of the classic political films like Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (or at least Dave) had they handled their foreign storyline as well as the domestic one.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
They've done it again.
Entertainment Weekly has stolen from me before (click here to see how they borrowed liberally from my review of Shawn of the Dead), but this time they have outdone themselves. In the current issue of their esteemed magazine (I have been a subscriber since Color Me Badd was on the cover) Leah Greenblatt has a piece on Oscar worthy music. I was enjoying the article when towards the end I spied an interesting quote. When weighing the award potential of the songs from Walk Hard, the author states that the numbers are, "hardly more than YouTube fun."
Um, hello. As my faithful readers will recall my review of Walk Hard in which I said that a, "great 12 minute version of the film [should be made] to be devoured on YouTube." My words were published on January 3rd, which was apparently just enough time for them to be bandied about the internet and thrown onto the glossy pages of EW.
I have this to say to Leah Greenblatt: shame on you. I am sure you will chalk this up to a case of great minds thinking alike. While I will not argue with your assessment of my mental ability, I will say this is all a bit too coincidental. I also find it convenient that your, or should I say "our", article is nowhere to be found on the EW website. Do you think that just because you are big time PAID entertainment writer who writes in a REAL magazine with a readership that is larger than THIRTY that you can continue to mine my intellectual gold mine? I say nay to that. In fact, I am considering going on strike if I do not receive residual compensation for my online content which has been repeatedly pilfered for profit. I will no longer act as the entertainment zeigeist for free. Now, as far as how I can be compensated, I would gladly accept a regular column in Entertainment Weekly. In the event that there are no positions currently available I would take an EW fanny pack or any back issues with feature stories on Tim Allen in the interim.
If my demands are not heard I am sure my readers will gladly cancel their subscriptions. If they don't have subscriptions I am sure that they will purchase subscriptions and then immediatly cancel them. That is how dedicated they are.
Um, hello. As my faithful readers will recall my review of Walk Hard in which I said that a, "great 12 minute version of the film [should be made] to be devoured on YouTube." My words were published on January 3rd, which was apparently just enough time for them to be bandied about the internet and thrown onto the glossy pages of EW.
I have this to say to Leah Greenblatt: shame on you. I am sure you will chalk this up to a case of great minds thinking alike. While I will not argue with your assessment of my mental ability, I will say this is all a bit too coincidental. I also find it convenient that your, or should I say "our", article is nowhere to be found on the EW website. Do you think that just because you are big time PAID entertainment writer who writes in a REAL magazine with a readership that is larger than THIRTY that you can continue to mine my intellectual gold mine? I say nay to that. In fact, I am considering going on strike if I do not receive residual compensation for my online content which has been repeatedly pilfered for profit. I will no longer act as the entertainment zeigeist for free. Now, as far as how I can be compensated, I would gladly accept a regular column in Entertainment Weekly. In the event that there are no positions currently available I would take an EW fanny pack or any back issues with feature stories on Tim Allen in the interim.
If my demands are not heard I am sure my readers will gladly cancel their subscriptions. If they don't have subscriptions I am sure that they will purchase subscriptions and then immediatly cancel them. That is how dedicated they are.
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