If I turned this review over to the Boy, the page would be filled with expletives. First things first, though, this is a review of The Road. Not the 2009 Viggo Mortensen post-apocalyptic flick, but a new Filipino horror about an out-of-the-way-road that everyone seems to take a shortcut on their way home from school or shopping, or just whenever.
The story is about a young cop who gets some kind of award and promotion, and is approached by a woman whose daughters have been missing for several years. There are then three vignettes, each ten years earlier than the last, showing the history of The Road and its victims.
We didn't know it was Filipino going in. The last Filipino movies I watched were when Eddie Romero's "Blood Island" movies aired on TV all the time. They were popular with me and my buddies to riff on.
This movie isn't in that tradition, though. There aren't any Yankees to shore up the box office and it's not dubbed in English, which is probably why it ended up at our art theater. (Although we do have a sizable Filipino population here, it's not a common thing to get their movies.)
This is more in the Japanese tradition. Ghosts of unspecified power and conflicting motivations pop up suddenly, sometimes visible, sometimes not, and it's not clear as to who can see them when, and never really why. It's actually not really clear who's doing the killing in some cases since there is a living, human agent around, too.
Japanese (and Korean) films in this genre get away with this with atmosphere, shock, dread and the best ones also manage suspense and a kind of aesthetic logic that transcends the need to actually make sense. The Ring (Ringu) is probably the main impetus for (and maybe best example of) the genre which plays at your expectation for one kind of logic and substitutes another kind at the last moment.
Despite the relatively high ratings on some review sites, this movie misses the shock and suspense mark by a wide degree, and is aggressively incoherent. The final vignette, which is meant to explain motivations, is dopey, but the "twist" is even dopier, essentially destroying the characterization set up by the vignette.
There may have been a double-twist, too, actually, that the apparently human agent wasn't really human after all. I dunno. It's murky.
I thought the atmosphere was okay, but the Boy immediately spotted and disliked the shot-on-video look, and when I compared it to the lesser "After Dark" movies, he didn't think it was even at that (low) level.
The editing had the mark of a low-budget film, with certain scenes being incoherent since key shots were too expensive to film. This seemed particularly true of the few action scenes.
I though the acting was all right but again The Boy hated it. This might be because it was bad (hey, I never claimed to be an expert on acting) or it might be because they spoke a heavily accented English sometimes that had an unfortunate cadence to the native ear. You know, like, if a character's name was "Bobby", they would yell "BahBEE!".
It had a baby-ish sound to it. I just regarded it as just coincidental to English but it was jarring.
The Road is pitched as a mystery, but it's not that mysterious. Even the twist—the one that didn't make sense and was actively undermined by the rest of the movie—was obvious from the get-go. (We both saw it coming, though we were wrong in one detail.)
It's pitched as a horror but it's so low key and laid back it manages to produce the sort of effect you get from going on "The Haunted Mansion" ride for the 40th time. Today. It's like seeing the animatronic ghoul's head pop out from the grave in predictable rhythm and slow motion, so you can analyze exactly what the director is trying to do without ever being engaged by it.
The Boy would probably class it as one of the worst movies he's ever seen and—well, I've seen a lot more movies, but I couldn't really recommend it. Except maybe to a native. (The subtitles contained spelling and other translation errors. So maybe not needing them would have helped. But not that much.)
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Saturday, May 26, 2012
The Highest Pass
An American man goes to India in search of a guru and finds one, in the form of a handsome young man who is prophesied to die. They decide to go on a motorcycle ride with five others over the highest motorable road in the world, deep in to the Himalayas. This is the premise of The Highest Pass, a documentary by John Fitzgerald and written by one of the journeyers, Adam Schomer.
Well, actually, I assume that Fitzgerald was one of the journeyers, too, since the whole thing was shot presumably live at the time. (You can read about it here, in fact, if you're interested.) There were many times when it didn't make sense for the camera to be there, kind of like a reality show: Our hero is traipsing through the jungle alone, can he possibly make it through this thick bramble? Meanwhile, the camera's shooting from the other side of the thick bramble, so you know it's do-able. And been done, actually.
The interstitials also give it a reality show feel, as people talk about what happened in-between the actual footage of it happening.
Let me say that I enjoyed this movie, I really did. The Boy liked it even more than I did. All caveats included, this is an amazing journey of seven people motorbiking up to—I forget how high up they are at the highest point, whether 4 or 5 miles—and even if they didn't all bike all the way, they all seemed to challenge themselves in a way that I can accept as spiritually beneficial.
They're both likable and admirable, I think, for daring to do it.
You can tell there are some caveats coming, though, can't you? Some observations? Maybe even some reservations?
By far my biggest problem with the flick is that the guru talks way too much. I don't believe you can talk someone into enlightenment. The things that are enlightening are, by their very essence, stupid. That is to say, we are basically simple creatures who get mired in complexity, and who are occasional touched by epiphanies that are as meaningful to us as they are stupidly obvious.
Enlgihtenment is a bumper sticker. Let Go and Let God. Do unto others. Be Kind, Rewind. (Wait, strike that last one.) Not to single out Christianity, either, since Buddhism and Hinduism too are all about simple, obvious things. That's why when you talk to someone who's excited about some revelation, they always sound like an idiot.
"And, yeah, then I realized, that, you know, if I just stopped treating people like crap, they'd think I was less of an asshole!"
I'm not setting myself apart from this either. It's just the nature of the beast: Enlightenment is personal and, yes, dumb, for all of us, because we're unwinding the complexities we've created for ourselves.
This is a long way to travel (as it were) to just point out that the Himalayas are, by themselves, an amazing, uplifting thing that could bring a lot of enlightenment to people just seeing them—"You know, these mountains aren't gonna crumble if I don't have that paper in on Friday."—versus having a guru telling you how amazing they are.
I figure since the writer was the one who follows the guru, we got way more talk than was helpful.
My other observations are more of a puckish nature,. For instance, arguably the most dangerous part of their journey was driving through the Indian city (I forget which one). They almost lost a couple of people there. 'course, Indians do that every day.
The next most dangerous part comes when they push through the trail before it's cleared of snow. (The thaw is late this year. Thanks Global Warming!) They can't breathe and they're freezing and the snow plows are having trouble and there are avalanche dangers everywhere, but they finally get through to a Buddhist temple. Where, of course, lots of Buddhist monks live every day.
Then there's the guru himself who, according to prophesy is to die that year. So, if he doesn't die, has he beaten the prophesy? Or maybe people can't really see into the future all the well, even in India.
And the mind-bending question is: Does it matter?
Ultimately, I don't think it does. Our experiences are relative. If he believed the prophesy, then it was a bold move to spit in its face and do something borderline reckless. Sure, lots of people live ever day in the climate that our protagonists were struggling through, but that doesn't the struggle any less real.
Insofar as there's a message one could carry away, it would probably be that: Are you going to sit there passively and let the universe happen to you or are you going to spit in The Fates' eye?
Well?
Well, actually, I assume that Fitzgerald was one of the journeyers, too, since the whole thing was shot presumably live at the time. (You can read about it here, in fact, if you're interested.) There were many times when it didn't make sense for the camera to be there, kind of like a reality show: Our hero is traipsing through the jungle alone, can he possibly make it through this thick bramble? Meanwhile, the camera's shooting from the other side of the thick bramble, so you know it's do-able. And been done, actually.
The interstitials also give it a reality show feel, as people talk about what happened in-between the actual footage of it happening.
Let me say that I enjoyed this movie, I really did. The Boy liked it even more than I did. All caveats included, this is an amazing journey of seven people motorbiking up to—I forget how high up they are at the highest point, whether 4 or 5 miles—and even if they didn't all bike all the way, they all seemed to challenge themselves in a way that I can accept as spiritually beneficial.
They're both likable and admirable, I think, for daring to do it.
You can tell there are some caveats coming, though, can't you? Some observations? Maybe even some reservations?
By far my biggest problem with the flick is that the guru talks way too much. I don't believe you can talk someone into enlightenment. The things that are enlightening are, by their very essence, stupid. That is to say, we are basically simple creatures who get mired in complexity, and who are occasional touched by epiphanies that are as meaningful to us as they are stupidly obvious.
Enlgihtenment is a bumper sticker. Let Go and Let God. Do unto others. Be Kind, Rewind. (Wait, strike that last one.) Not to single out Christianity, either, since Buddhism and Hinduism too are all about simple, obvious things. That's why when you talk to someone who's excited about some revelation, they always sound like an idiot.
"And, yeah, then I realized, that, you know, if I just stopped treating people like crap, they'd think I was less of an asshole!"
I'm not setting myself apart from this either. It's just the nature of the beast: Enlightenment is personal and, yes, dumb, for all of us, because we're unwinding the complexities we've created for ourselves.
This is a long way to travel (as it were) to just point out that the Himalayas are, by themselves, an amazing, uplifting thing that could bring a lot of enlightenment to people just seeing them—"You know, these mountains aren't gonna crumble if I don't have that paper in on Friday."—versus having a guru telling you how amazing they are.
I figure since the writer was the one who follows the guru, we got way more talk than was helpful.
My other observations are more of a puckish nature,. For instance, arguably the most dangerous part of their journey was driving through the Indian city (I forget which one). They almost lost a couple of people there. 'course, Indians do that every day.
The next most dangerous part comes when they push through the trail before it's cleared of snow. (The thaw is late this year. Thanks Global Warming!) They can't breathe and they're freezing and the snow plows are having trouble and there are avalanche dangers everywhere, but they finally get through to a Buddhist temple. Where, of course, lots of Buddhist monks live every day.
Then there's the guru himself who, according to prophesy is to die that year. So, if he doesn't die, has he beaten the prophesy? Or maybe people can't really see into the future all the well, even in India.
And the mind-bending question is: Does it matter?
Ultimately, I don't think it does. Our experiences are relative. If he believed the prophesy, then it was a bold move to spit in its face and do something borderline reckless. Sure, lots of people live ever day in the climate that our protagonists were struggling through, but that doesn't the struggle any less real.
Insofar as there's a message one could carry away, it would probably be that: Are you going to sit there passively and let the universe happen to you or are you going to spit in The Fates' eye?
Well?
Thursday, May 24, 2012
The Avengers
I am actually getting pretty tired of all these superhero movies. Most of 'em are Marvel, for one thing, which was never my thing. Since the lead time is so long on these suckers and one bad apple can kill a franchise, nearly every damn one of 'em has an "origin story". They tend to rely on dodgy and homogenizing special effects. Also, the tropes of the genre have infected most other genres, turning up where you wouldn't expect, like in Dark Shadows.
Et cetera.
But they're also often the best movies made in the year, however, so there ya are. Or rather, there I am, with The Flower and The Boy watching the latest smash 'em up directed by no less a figure than Joss Whedon ("Buffy The Vampire Slayer", "Firefly").
Well, it's good.
Very good.
I'd say that The Dark Knight Rises has got its work cut out for it to be the comic book movie of the year, but I'm not sure Dark Knight is even really a superhero movie. (Batman's not a superhero, and Nolan seems increasingly determined to avoid most of the tropes of the superhero genre, in something akin to irony.)
This really is.
The story doesn't really matter. The world is imperiled and earth's mightiest heroes must come together to save it. Well, the mightiest heroes in the Marvel universe that aren't already licensed out to other studios. Which is why the whole thing is kind of odd, from a marketing perspective: Iron Man, Captain America, The Hulk and Thor aren't the A-List. Black Widow and Hawkeye aren't even on the B-List!
But Whedon does an excellent job delineating the characters. Granted, these guys are drawn in broad strokes and have long histories, but there's a scene where the slutty chick from "How I Met Your Mother" says something to Captain America about Thor being a god, and Captain America says, "There's only one God, ma'am, and he doesn't look like that."
Nice.
Because, you know, that's what Captain America, frozen in time in WWII, would say. There's a somewhat meta-reference to the fish-out-of-water thing as Captain America and Thor seem to be competing vis a vis who's more out of the cultural loop.
And the movie is filled with nice touches like that, that aren't really touches but maintaining continuity of character, in a knowing but respectful way that makes the movie lively, upbeat entertainment.
There's no doubt that he's behind the strength of the two human heroes, Hawkeye and Black Widow. They would've been disposable in just about any other writer/director's hands, but their relationship is central and Black Widow in particular has a number of pivotal roles and surprising turns.
Whedon also fully embraces the insanity of comic book logic, much in the way Sam Raimi did with his Spider-Man movies (particularly the second one).
The Boy, who isn't inclined toward these things, said he didn't think it could've been any better, and not in a backhanded way. The Flower loved it. You can't really ask much more of an action movie than that it makes you care enough about the characters to make the action interesting, and this mostly does.
With eight big characters (the six heroes, Nick Fury and Loki), you're going to be pressed for time. All the actors from the previous movies are back, with the exception of The Hulk being played not by Edward Norton but by Mark Ruffalo, who is possibly the only better guy for the role of the wan Bruce Banner. The new character, Hawkeye, is played ably by Jeremy Renner (of The Hurt Locker and The Town).
It's said that this movie started as an in-joke as the stinger for Iron Man, but on the strengths of the movies about the other three heroes became a reality and it's something of a minor miracle that it paid off at all, to say nothing of this well.
So, tired as I am, I'd go see Avengers 2, if Whedon directs.
Et cetera.
But they're also often the best movies made in the year, however, so there ya are. Or rather, there I am, with The Flower and The Boy watching the latest smash 'em up directed by no less a figure than Joss Whedon ("Buffy The Vampire Slayer", "Firefly").
Well, it's good.
Very good.
I'd say that The Dark Knight Rises has got its work cut out for it to be the comic book movie of the year, but I'm not sure Dark Knight is even really a superhero movie. (Batman's not a superhero, and Nolan seems increasingly determined to avoid most of the tropes of the superhero genre, in something akin to irony.)
This really is.
The story doesn't really matter. The world is imperiled and earth's mightiest heroes must come together to save it. Well, the mightiest heroes in the Marvel universe that aren't already licensed out to other studios. Which is why the whole thing is kind of odd, from a marketing perspective: Iron Man, Captain America, The Hulk and Thor aren't the A-List. Black Widow and Hawkeye aren't even on the B-List!
But Whedon does an excellent job delineating the characters. Granted, these guys are drawn in broad strokes and have long histories, but there's a scene where the slutty chick from "How I Met Your Mother" says something to Captain America about Thor being a god, and Captain America says, "There's only one God, ma'am, and he doesn't look like that."
Nice.
Because, you know, that's what Captain America, frozen in time in WWII, would say. There's a somewhat meta-reference to the fish-out-of-water thing as Captain America and Thor seem to be competing vis a vis who's more out of the cultural loop.
And the movie is filled with nice touches like that, that aren't really touches but maintaining continuity of character, in a knowing but respectful way that makes the movie lively, upbeat entertainment.
There's no doubt that he's behind the strength of the two human heroes, Hawkeye and Black Widow. They would've been disposable in just about any other writer/director's hands, but their relationship is central and Black Widow in particular has a number of pivotal roles and surprising turns.
Whedon also fully embraces the insanity of comic book logic, much in the way Sam Raimi did with his Spider-Man movies (particularly the second one).
The Boy, who isn't inclined toward these things, said he didn't think it could've been any better, and not in a backhanded way. The Flower loved it. You can't really ask much more of an action movie than that it makes you care enough about the characters to make the action interesting, and this mostly does.
With eight big characters (the six heroes, Nick Fury and Loki), you're going to be pressed for time. All the actors from the previous movies are back, with the exception of The Hulk being played not by Edward Norton but by Mark Ruffalo, who is possibly the only better guy for the role of the wan Bruce Banner. The new character, Hawkeye, is played ably by Jeremy Renner (of The Hurt Locker and The Town).
It's said that this movie started as an in-joke as the stinger for Iron Man, but on the strengths of the movies about the other three heroes became a reality and it's something of a minor miracle that it paid off at all, to say nothing of this well.
So, tired as I am, I'd go see Avengers 2, if Whedon directs.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
The Five-Year Engagement
Nicholas Stoller and Jason Segel are together again (for the second time) in the new romantic-comedy The Five-Year Engagement, the story of an up-and-coming chef (Segel) and his Psychology grad student fiancee (played by Emily Blunt) whose plans to marry are derailed after she gets accepted for post-grad work at the University of Michigan. (Go Fighting Hedgehogs!)
Stoller and Segel's previous collaboration was the delightfully raunchy Forgetting Sarah Marshall and you'll find much of the same tone here (although, somewhat sweetly, a bone of contention is an errant drunk kiss rather than—the more graphic stuff in Marshall).
I and The Boy liked this movie quite a lot. It was pretty consistently chuckle-worthy, if not uproarious, and its extended length (two hours) didn't feel padded, though you are really ready for it to end when it finally does. That's kind of a cute cinematic trick, to convey the sense of a lengthened engagement so literally and, frankly, I liked it, but I could see others' complaints in this regard.
The strength of this movie is in its characters, perhaps more so than Marshall, which fell back on some fairly standard character types. (That probably allowed it to be funnier, though.) Segel's character is as ambitious, at least, as Blunt's—kind of refreshing in these days of slacker men—but he sacrifices for her opportunity.
Obviously, this isn't going to go well, or we wouldn't have a picture.
But what's interesting (and enjoyable) is this old-school romcom feel where the conflict comes from having two basically strong characters butt heads. Tom gives up the chance of lifetime for Violet, but he never tells her that. And as he slowly disintegrates, unable to maintain his identity in this new context, he's as supportive as he can be—which is increasingly less supportive, since he's becoming a basket case.
It evokes, with less wackiness, Michael Keaton and Teri Garr in Mr. Mom. You know from the moment you lay eyes on him that Violet's supervisor George (aptly played by Jim Piddock, Catherine O'Hara's urniary-incontinence mogul husband in A Mighty Wind) is going to go after her. At the same time, this movie gives him a lot more depth than the sleazy caricature Martin Mull depicts in Mr. Mom.
No, much as in Marshall, while the characters have problems, they tend to come from being stubborn, or just too fixed in how they view themselves and others. This basic truism lends a lot of strength to the tale, rather than making it a story of good guys and bad guys.
Perhaps the most interesting side-facet of the movie comes in the form of Alex and Suzie, his and her best buds, who end up drunkenly hooking up at the engagement party. Alex (Chris Pratt, Moneyball) is a pig, a neanderthal, a complete throwback and, if not a loser, a modestly ambitious and somewhat shortsighted person while Suzie (Alsion Brie, "Mad Men") is a more modern, feminist woman who is completely embarrassed by the hookup—and who ends up pregnant.
The movie relishes the irony of demonstrating the mismatched couple living their lives over the five year period in a reasonably happy and responsible way while the perfect pair we're rooting for go utterly to pieces. "You're over-thinking it," the movie seems to say. Or perhaps, in the parlance of our times, "You're doing it wrong."
Jason Segel, pioneer in the modern "full-frontal comedy" lets us down a little bit by only featuring an apron with a picture of a penis rather than the real thing, but he's getting up there in years to be waving that thing around. (What the hell am I saying?)
Anyway, The Boy and I both enjoyed it, and while we agreed it ran a bit long, it was hard to see a lot of opportunities for cutting that wouldn't undermine the story they were telling.
Stoller and Segel's previous collaboration was the delightfully raunchy Forgetting Sarah Marshall and you'll find much of the same tone here (although, somewhat sweetly, a bone of contention is an errant drunk kiss rather than—the more graphic stuff in Marshall).
I and The Boy liked this movie quite a lot. It was pretty consistently chuckle-worthy, if not uproarious, and its extended length (two hours) didn't feel padded, though you are really ready for it to end when it finally does. That's kind of a cute cinematic trick, to convey the sense of a lengthened engagement so literally and, frankly, I liked it, but I could see others' complaints in this regard.
The strength of this movie is in its characters, perhaps more so than Marshall, which fell back on some fairly standard character types. (That probably allowed it to be funnier, though.) Segel's character is as ambitious, at least, as Blunt's—kind of refreshing in these days of slacker men—but he sacrifices for her opportunity.
Obviously, this isn't going to go well, or we wouldn't have a picture.
But what's interesting (and enjoyable) is this old-school romcom feel where the conflict comes from having two basically strong characters butt heads. Tom gives up the chance of lifetime for Violet, but he never tells her that. And as he slowly disintegrates, unable to maintain his identity in this new context, he's as supportive as he can be—which is increasingly less supportive, since he's becoming a basket case.
It evokes, with less wackiness, Michael Keaton and Teri Garr in Mr. Mom. You know from the moment you lay eyes on him that Violet's supervisor George (aptly played by Jim Piddock, Catherine O'Hara's urniary-incontinence mogul husband in A Mighty Wind) is going to go after her. At the same time, this movie gives him a lot more depth than the sleazy caricature Martin Mull depicts in Mr. Mom.
No, much as in Marshall, while the characters have problems, they tend to come from being stubborn, or just too fixed in how they view themselves and others. This basic truism lends a lot of strength to the tale, rather than making it a story of good guys and bad guys.
Perhaps the most interesting side-facet of the movie comes in the form of Alex and Suzie, his and her best buds, who end up drunkenly hooking up at the engagement party. Alex (Chris Pratt, Moneyball) is a pig, a neanderthal, a complete throwback and, if not a loser, a modestly ambitious and somewhat shortsighted person while Suzie (Alsion Brie, "Mad Men") is a more modern, feminist woman who is completely embarrassed by the hookup—and who ends up pregnant.
The movie relishes the irony of demonstrating the mismatched couple living their lives over the five year period in a reasonably happy and responsible way while the perfect pair we're rooting for go utterly to pieces. "You're over-thinking it," the movie seems to say. Or perhaps, in the parlance of our times, "You're doing it wrong."
Jason Segel, pioneer in the modern "full-frontal comedy" lets us down a little bit by only featuring an apron with a picture of a penis rather than the real thing, but he's getting up there in years to be waving that thing around. (What the hell am I saying?)
Anyway, The Boy and I both enjoyed it, and while we agreed it ran a bit long, it was hard to see a lot of opportunities for cutting that wouldn't undermine the story they were telling.
Chronicle
Movies about teenagers with superpowers, they suck, right? No, seriously, I'm asking because I haven't seen I Am Number Four or Blink or any of those other films. I saw The Craft, but that has more to do with knee socks.
It's just not a very interesting topic. I mean, it could be, but the odds are against it. It just lends itself to pandering power fantasy. And not to me, so, why should I care?
What's more, the reviews that accompany these movies usually reflect an abysmal character, and they don't seem to do much at the box office, so you kinda gotta wonder why they keep making them.
But they do, which brings us to Chronicle, the first super-teen movie in 35 years that doesn't suck! I'm evoking, somewhat reservedly, Brian De Palma's The Fury which, well, maybe that's not a great example.
Anyway, this is the story of three kids who find themselves with telekinesis, the ability to move things with their minds. It starts out slow, with our three protagonists—one a moderately well-liked philosopher, one a class leader and one an outcast—going about their lives in the manner of high-school students.
Sure, it's all fun and games until somebody loses an eye, usually from telekinesis-related hemorrhages.
The story is told from the POV of the outcast, who has video-recorded the events Blair Witch-style. This might make you roll your eyes at first, but there are some really clever exploitations of this conceit. At first you get a little bit of the shaky-cam but mostly a static POV as someone sets the camera down and the scene unfolds in that frame.
But then, later, well, hey, they're telekinetic—so the camera can be moved completely independently of being held by a character in the movie.
Another interesting side-effect is that very mundane special effects tend to have a little more impact, at least at first. You're surprised to see simple levitation in this cinema verité style. It sort of wears off a bit toward the end when all hell breaks loose.
The movie unfolds relatively slowly as well, allowing the characters some time to develop, even if they're drawn from some pretty well-worn high-school archetypes.
It does hit some wll-worn grooves by the end, but overall it was an entertaining take on a genre which is usually tiresome. The Boy and The Flower were entertained, if not enthused.
It's just not a very interesting topic. I mean, it could be, but the odds are against it. It just lends itself to pandering power fantasy. And not to me, so, why should I care?
What's more, the reviews that accompany these movies usually reflect an abysmal character, and they don't seem to do much at the box office, so you kinda gotta wonder why they keep making them.
But they do, which brings us to Chronicle, the first super-teen movie in 35 years that doesn't suck! I'm evoking, somewhat reservedly, Brian De Palma's The Fury which, well, maybe that's not a great example.
Anyway, this is the story of three kids who find themselves with telekinesis, the ability to move things with their minds. It starts out slow, with our three protagonists—one a moderately well-liked philosopher, one a class leader and one an outcast—going about their lives in the manner of high-school students.
Sure, it's all fun and games until somebody loses an eye, usually from telekinesis-related hemorrhages.
The story is told from the POV of the outcast, who has video-recorded the events Blair Witch-style. This might make you roll your eyes at first, but there are some really clever exploitations of this conceit. At first you get a little bit of the shaky-cam but mostly a static POV as someone sets the camera down and the scene unfolds in that frame.
But then, later, well, hey, they're telekinetic—so the camera can be moved completely independently of being held by a character in the movie.
Another interesting side-effect is that very mundane special effects tend to have a little more impact, at least at first. You're surprised to see simple levitation in this cinema verité style. It sort of wears off a bit toward the end when all hell breaks loose.
The movie unfolds relatively slowly as well, allowing the characters some time to develop, even if they're drawn from some pretty well-worn high-school archetypes.
It does hit some wll-worn grooves by the end, but overall it was an entertaining take on a genre which is usually tiresome. The Boy and The Flower were entertained, if not enthused.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
My Way (Mai Wei)
Although the US's post-war plan for Japan could be considered very humane, it's sort of interesting to note that WWII-era Japan was monstrous, and now they can't even be bothered to reproduce. I mean, they're so goofy on so many cultural levels, we forget that they were comparable to Nazi Germany in their atrocities, perhaps killing as many as ten million people.
I mention this because, as you might imagine, Imperial Japan's victims in Korea, China and Russia haven't forgotten.
Which brings us to this epic war film, the Korean movie My Way. The Boy loved this film, and he asked me what I thought of it, because I was laughing through parts of it that weren't especially funny. But it wasn't a mocking laughter, but kind of a sardonic one, mixed with a kind of incredulity.
This is just a balls-out patriotic war movie taking one of the oldest storylines in the book and creating a sweeping fable that is appropriately anti-war but not punishingly so. In other words, where modern war movies all have to remind us how awful war is, they often can't stop preaching long enough to relish the chaos, destruction and gore in the manner of a boy playing with toy soldiers (which, after all, is what a war movie is, sans pretensions).
We're not being lectured or shamed for enjoying the movie, which is nice.
The story concerns a Japanese boy who comes with his family to rule over a Korean prefecture (I think that's the right one) and discovers they are served by a Korean family with a boy of their own, who loves to run and is famed for being the best in the city. The Japanese boy, convinced of Japanese superiority immediately competes, and we flash forward to the two as young adults, still racing in bigger and bigger races, and trading off wins.
Though the Korean wins slightly more. 'cause, hey, Korean movie.
Also, the Korean man, Jun-shik, wins the Olympic trials—even over the Japanese trying to trip him up with dirty tricks—but the Japanese judges disqualify him. This leads to a riot and Jun-shik and all his friends being sent to the Mongolian front to fight for the Japanese. The Japanese man, Tatsuo, is there leading the troops, and he's just gotten meaner and crazier.
The Japanese guy—he's way over-the-top evil. Looks evil. Acts like a maniac.
Korean movie.
But! Remember: The Japanese were maniacs. They did really crazy, evil stuff. A lot of it to Koreans.
Anyway, the battle goes bad and our two heroes get captured by the Soviets, and are pressed into service...fighting the Germans! But now the shoe's on another foot, and Tatsuo is no longer the boss. And when he's being treated like he treated his own men, well, he doesn't like it one bit.
Well, pretty soon, they're captured by the Germans. And before you know it, they're at Normandy.
It's definitely a credit to this movie that I'm still rooting for these guys, even though by this point, it's American soldiers they're fighting. The war left them long ago, and they're ten thousand miles from home, just trying not to get killed.
Subtlety is not in the director's vocabulary, at least not here, but I'd rather watch this movie than Saving Private Ryan, for an example of another less-than-subtle war movie.
The music is similarly on-the-nose.
The two-hours and twenty minutes whiz by, and hit nearly every cliché you'd find in American war movies of the '40s and '50s, and it seems kind of tragic we couldn't do this sort of thing here and now. Still, it's fun to see the Koreans do it.
And it's done with big budget effects (only a little goofy with the CGI blood).
Tragically, this was as big a bomb in Korea as (I think) an American version would be here. So I doubt we'll be seeing many more like it.
I mention this because, as you might imagine, Imperial Japan's victims in Korea, China and Russia haven't forgotten.
Which brings us to this epic war film, the Korean movie My Way. The Boy loved this film, and he asked me what I thought of it, because I was laughing through parts of it that weren't especially funny. But it wasn't a mocking laughter, but kind of a sardonic one, mixed with a kind of incredulity.
This is just a balls-out patriotic war movie taking one of the oldest storylines in the book and creating a sweeping fable that is appropriately anti-war but not punishingly so. In other words, where modern war movies all have to remind us how awful war is, they often can't stop preaching long enough to relish the chaos, destruction and gore in the manner of a boy playing with toy soldiers (which, after all, is what a war movie is, sans pretensions).
We're not being lectured or shamed for enjoying the movie, which is nice.
The story concerns a Japanese boy who comes with his family to rule over a Korean prefecture (I think that's the right one) and discovers they are served by a Korean family with a boy of their own, who loves to run and is famed for being the best in the city. The Japanese boy, convinced of Japanese superiority immediately competes, and we flash forward to the two as young adults, still racing in bigger and bigger races, and trading off wins.
Though the Korean wins slightly more. 'cause, hey, Korean movie.
Also, the Korean man, Jun-shik, wins the Olympic trials—even over the Japanese trying to trip him up with dirty tricks—but the Japanese judges disqualify him. This leads to a riot and Jun-shik and all his friends being sent to the Mongolian front to fight for the Japanese. The Japanese man, Tatsuo, is there leading the troops, and he's just gotten meaner and crazier.
The Japanese guy—he's way over-the-top evil. Looks evil. Acts like a maniac.
Korean movie.
But! Remember: The Japanese were maniacs. They did really crazy, evil stuff. A lot of it to Koreans.
Anyway, the battle goes bad and our two heroes get captured by the Soviets, and are pressed into service...fighting the Germans! But now the shoe's on another foot, and Tatsuo is no longer the boss. And when he's being treated like he treated his own men, well, he doesn't like it one bit.
Well, pretty soon, they're captured by the Germans. And before you know it, they're at Normandy.
It's definitely a credit to this movie that I'm still rooting for these guys, even though by this point, it's American soldiers they're fighting. The war left them long ago, and they're ten thousand miles from home, just trying not to get killed.
Subtlety is not in the director's vocabulary, at least not here, but I'd rather watch this movie than Saving Private Ryan, for an example of another less-than-subtle war movie.
The music is similarly on-the-nose.
The two-hours and twenty minutes whiz by, and hit nearly every cliché you'd find in American war movies of the '40s and '50s, and it seems kind of tragic we couldn't do this sort of thing here and now. Still, it's fun to see the Koreans do it.
And it's done with big budget effects (only a little goofy with the CGI blood).
Tragically, this was as big a bomb in Korea as (I think) an American version would be here. So I doubt we'll be seeing many more like it.
Friday, April 27, 2012
Monsieur Lazhar
I am sort of becoming convinced that the field for "foreign language" Oscar encompasses at least one film for each of the 6,909 known living languages—and possibly a few more like Elvish, Klingon, Esperanto or Aramaic.
And so it came to pass that the Boy and I ventured to see a movie in a strange, obscure language called "French", in an even obscurer dialect of "French-Canadian", called Monsieur Lazhar. "Monsieur" being the male honorific in this esoteric culture, similar to "Mr." or "Sir, With Love" here in the US of A.
I keed.
Quebec, or as I like to call it "French-Canada", is the location of this tale about an Algerian refugee who finds employment after one of the teachers hangs herself. We actually didn't know, going in, that it was a Canadian film, but the constant snow was sort of a tip off.
This movie is really a scathing indictment of the Canadian educational system, though I don't know if the moviemakers are aware of that. It's somewhat reminiscent of The Barbarian Invasions, where the crusty old socialist hippies die at the hands of the horrible medical system they insisted on foisting on their country, while all the time lamenting the attempts of the titular barbarians to bring it down.
Ostensibly, this is a movie about how we deal with grief and loss, and from that perspective, it's a tale well told. Mohammed Fellag, as the ironically named Bashir Lazhar ("bearer of good news", "lucky") is a very natural performer, apparently known in France for his stand-up routines. (Groucho Marx rightly pointed out once that comedy required dramatic chops in a way that drama does not require comedic chops, QED.)
But the more interesting aspect of the movie is the fish-out-of-water tale of a 60-year-old Algerian man trying to teach a class of Canadian kids in a modern school of political correctness.
Lazhar gets the job by claiming to have been a teacher in Algeria (though we quickly learn it's not true) and he immediately sets to schooling the kids the way he was schooled. They're used to sitting in a semi-circle, he puts them in columns and rows. He has them "take dictation" by reading from Balzac, which is way out of their league. (N.B., that wouldn't have been the case 50 years earlier when he was in school.)
At one point, one of the kids says something cruel to another, and he swats him on the back of the head and demands he apologizes. Later, he's called into the principal's office and accused of hitting a child, which he insists he never did. Truthfully, I think, since he doesn't regard a swat on the back of the head a "hit".
It's not really a "Dangerous Minds" kind of thing, in other words, where the teacher swoops in to save some underprivileged or racially correct kids. It's not really about pedagogy at all. But Lazahr is basically the only man around, except for two custodial staff.
The school has no concept of how to deal with boys. About the most horrible thing in the world to them is violence. When the boys play king of the hill, a teacher stops them. Another boy has dark, violent moods, and they talk about expelling him. Indeed, if there's an emotion running through this school, it's fear. (And how well does that describe public schools in general?)
But if there's one thing worse than violent contact, it's non-violent contact. Teachers are not allowed, at any time, to touch the children. And the teacher who committed suicide, it turns out, had been accused by one of the kids of giving him an unwanted kiss. (The movie does get around to pointing out that a child does not cause an adult's suicide, and that the adult in question was troubled to begin with, but it doesn't explore nearly enough the system's influence.)
As a result, Lazhar is the fish-out-of-water because he acts like a normal human being—an adult, who takes his responsibilities seriously and acts with both common sense and a normal respect for human dignity. Something only someone not immersed in modern pedagogical theory could do.
The Boy liked it all right, but he felt it was over-rated. (It has near perfect reviews on Rotten Tomatoes.) I liked it a good deal more, but The Boy only went to a couple of small private schools for a few years (and even then, he got exposed to the paranoiac fear of violence) so I think that was a factor.
Next up? A Korean war movie! (No, not a movie about the Korean War, but a movie from Korea about war.)
And so it came to pass that the Boy and I ventured to see a movie in a strange, obscure language called "French", in an even obscurer dialect of "French-Canadian", called Monsieur Lazhar. "Monsieur" being the male honorific in this esoteric culture, similar to "Mr." or "Sir, With Love" here in the US of A.
I keed.
Quebec, or as I like to call it "French-Canada", is the location of this tale about an Algerian refugee who finds employment after one of the teachers hangs herself. We actually didn't know, going in, that it was a Canadian film, but the constant snow was sort of a tip off.
This movie is really a scathing indictment of the Canadian educational system, though I don't know if the moviemakers are aware of that. It's somewhat reminiscent of The Barbarian Invasions, where the crusty old socialist hippies die at the hands of the horrible medical system they insisted on foisting on their country, while all the time lamenting the attempts of the titular barbarians to bring it down.
Ostensibly, this is a movie about how we deal with grief and loss, and from that perspective, it's a tale well told. Mohammed Fellag, as the ironically named Bashir Lazhar ("bearer of good news", "lucky") is a very natural performer, apparently known in France for his stand-up routines. (Groucho Marx rightly pointed out once that comedy required dramatic chops in a way that drama does not require comedic chops, QED.)
But the more interesting aspect of the movie is the fish-out-of-water tale of a 60-year-old Algerian man trying to teach a class of Canadian kids in a modern school of political correctness.
Lazhar gets the job by claiming to have been a teacher in Algeria (though we quickly learn it's not true) and he immediately sets to schooling the kids the way he was schooled. They're used to sitting in a semi-circle, he puts them in columns and rows. He has them "take dictation" by reading from Balzac, which is way out of their league. (N.B., that wouldn't have been the case 50 years earlier when he was in school.)
At one point, one of the kids says something cruel to another, and he swats him on the back of the head and demands he apologizes. Later, he's called into the principal's office and accused of hitting a child, which he insists he never did. Truthfully, I think, since he doesn't regard a swat on the back of the head a "hit".
It's not really a "Dangerous Minds" kind of thing, in other words, where the teacher swoops in to save some underprivileged or racially correct kids. It's not really about pedagogy at all. But Lazahr is basically the only man around, except for two custodial staff.
The school has no concept of how to deal with boys. About the most horrible thing in the world to them is violence. When the boys play king of the hill, a teacher stops them. Another boy has dark, violent moods, and they talk about expelling him. Indeed, if there's an emotion running through this school, it's fear. (And how well does that describe public schools in general?)
But if there's one thing worse than violent contact, it's non-violent contact. Teachers are not allowed, at any time, to touch the children. And the teacher who committed suicide, it turns out, had been accused by one of the kids of giving him an unwanted kiss. (The movie does get around to pointing out that a child does not cause an adult's suicide, and that the adult in question was troubled to begin with, but it doesn't explore nearly enough the system's influence.)
As a result, Lazhar is the fish-out-of-water because he acts like a normal human being—an adult, who takes his responsibilities seriously and acts with both common sense and a normal respect for human dignity. Something only someone not immersed in modern pedagogical theory could do.
The Boy liked it all right, but he felt it was over-rated. (It has near perfect reviews on Rotten Tomatoes.) I liked it a good deal more, but The Boy only went to a couple of small private schools for a few years (and even then, he got exposed to the paranoiac fear of violence) so I think that was a factor.
Next up? A Korean war movie! (No, not a movie about the Korean War, but a movie from Korea about war.)
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
To Be On TV
When you turn the TV off
Perhaps you are aware
Of a presence on the screen
A figure in a chair
Ghost-like in living monochrome
A specter sitting there
Stilled life like a picture
Painted by Vermeer
Painted by Vermeer
You're haunted by this figure
Yet, you are not afraid
It feels so familiar
Doubt and fear are allayed
A reassuring presence
Thoughtful, rather staid
Expressing a calm kindness
The figment your mind made
This figment your mind made
Is this thing in mourning
Shrouded there in gloom?
Buried in obscurity?
Living in a tomb?
Some sort of a strange sonogram
An image of a womb?
Or simply a reflection
Sitting a room
Sitting a room
At the back a window
Off to one side a bed
Upon the wall a photo
Of a loved one dead
Beside the chair a floor lamp
Shines light around its head
No, it's not a ghost at all
It's an angel instead
An angel instead
And when you turn the box back on
Perhaps now you will see
It's not about survival
Or reality
We're desperate to be captured
Afraid to be free
Everybody's dying
To be on TV
To be on TV.
--Loudon Wainwright III
Perhaps you are aware
Of a presence on the screen
A figure in a chair
Ghost-like in living monochrome
A specter sitting there
Stilled life like a picture
Painted by Vermeer
Painted by Vermeer
You're haunted by this figure
Yet, you are not afraid
It feels so familiar
Doubt and fear are allayed
A reassuring presence
Thoughtful, rather staid
Expressing a calm kindness
The figment your mind made
This figment your mind made
Is this thing in mourning
Shrouded there in gloom?
Buried in obscurity?
Living in a tomb?
Some sort of a strange sonogram
An image of a womb?
Or simply a reflection
Sitting a room
Sitting a room
At the back a window
Off to one side a bed
Upon the wall a photo
Of a loved one dead
Beside the chair a floor lamp
Shines light around its head
No, it's not a ghost at all
It's an angel instead
An angel instead
And when you turn the box back on
Perhaps now you will see
It's not about survival
Or reality
We're desperate to be captured
Afraid to be free
Everybody's dying
To be on TV
To be on TV.
--Loudon Wainwright III
Friday, April 20, 2012
The Kid With A Bike
In contrast to recent flicks with low critical scores and high moviegoer ratings, this week went to see The Kid With A Bike, a Belgian film by the Dardenne brothers, who've brought you such films as...ah, who am I kidding? You've never seen any of their films, you cretin.
This movie is the story of Cyril, who lives in an orphanage in...well, Belgium...some place. Not Brussels. His dad has dropped him off for a bit while he takes care of something or other, and when the movie opens Cyril is having it explained to him that his father is gone, no forwarding address, not so much as a "by your leave".
But since this is a movie, rather than slipping into a life of despair, Cyril flees the orphanarium and seeks out his father in his old apartment (where, sure enough, the father no longer lives). In the process of flailing about, he attaches (literally!) to Samantha (played by the lovely Cécile De France, seen in Clint Eastwood's Hereafter) who offers to foster him on the weekend.
For Cyril, this just means more time to find his father, in which quest Samantha helps him. Actually, she finds him early on, and Guy (Cyril's dad) turns out to be an abject coward who just wants to "start over" and a son gets in the way of that ambition.
This segues into other issues, Samantha's maternal issues, Cyril's trust issues, a local Fagin who sees Cyril as a useful tool, and so on. This all builds to a very low-key climax and a denouement that provokes some thought but doesn't seem to have any dramatic purpose.
So, what's it all mean? I dunno. The acting is good, although the kind of flat affect Thomas Doret has, while doubtless being in character, is anti-dramatic. The direction is pretty crisp, though there's one shot of Cyril riding his bike that seems to go on for a minute or more, from the same angle. It's technically kind of a cool shot but it seems to have no purpose.
Which, you could say about the whole movie. Good acting, not particularly boring, technically competent, but seemingly without a point. The 96% critic rating on Rotten Tomatoes reinforced The Boy's notion that critics have terrible taste.
It's not bad, but we tended to agree more with the 77% moviegoer rating.
This movie is the story of Cyril, who lives in an orphanage in...well, Belgium...some place. Not Brussels. His dad has dropped him off for a bit while he takes care of something or other, and when the movie opens Cyril is having it explained to him that his father is gone, no forwarding address, not so much as a "by your leave".
But since this is a movie, rather than slipping into a life of despair, Cyril flees the orphanarium and seeks out his father in his old apartment (where, sure enough, the father no longer lives). In the process of flailing about, he attaches (literally!) to Samantha (played by the lovely Cécile De France, seen in Clint Eastwood's Hereafter) who offers to foster him on the weekend.
For Cyril, this just means more time to find his father, in which quest Samantha helps him. Actually, she finds him early on, and Guy (Cyril's dad) turns out to be an abject coward who just wants to "start over" and a son gets in the way of that ambition.
This segues into other issues, Samantha's maternal issues, Cyril's trust issues, a local Fagin who sees Cyril as a useful tool, and so on. This all builds to a very low-key climax and a denouement that provokes some thought but doesn't seem to have any dramatic purpose.
So, what's it all mean? I dunno. The acting is good, although the kind of flat affect Thomas Doret has, while doubtless being in character, is anti-dramatic. The direction is pretty crisp, though there's one shot of Cyril riding his bike that seems to go on for a minute or more, from the same angle. It's technically kind of a cool shot but it seems to have no purpose.
Which, you could say about the whole movie. Good acting, not particularly boring, technically competent, but seemingly without a point. The 96% critic rating on Rotten Tomatoes reinforced The Boy's notion that critics have terrible taste.
It's not bad, but we tended to agree more with the 77% moviegoer rating.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Blue Like Jazz
A pattern has begun to develop at Casa 'Strom: If a movie is reviled by critics, but loved by audiences, it's probably a go. Last year's Machine Gun Preacher (29/61), and Act Of Valor (25/80)—though we didn't know the split when we went to see it—and now, Blue Like Jazz (45/93).
This is the odd tale of Don Miller, a Southern Baptist from deep-in-the-heart-of Texas who has a crisis of faith shortly before leaving for a Christian college, and ends up at Reed College in Portland, Oregon. Reed is a Godless, heathen cauldron of bubbling decadence—I mean, moreso than even your average university.
Don is quickly advised by Lauryn, a neo-Lesbian who unabashedly uses the unisex bathroom—the urinal, even—while he's in there, that he needs to get in the Christian closet if he expects to survive the year. As a white, Christian male, he is the source of all the world's problems.
What follows is a year of sly conformity, a friendship with the Reed College "pope", and the pursuit of a devoted activist, a comely, chaste blonde named Penny who is no dilettante when it comes to fighting for a cause she believes in.
The quirky characters and antics keep the movie entertaining, but unlike your average "coming of age" college story, there's some serious meat under here. Don struggles with what it means to be a Christian, when so many Christians are major-league jerks. Ultimately he struggles with the concepts of Jesus and God, and the very essence of religiosity.
This is not a preachy movie, however. There is a ton of debauchery (though no explicit sex or graphic drug use), which has upset some Christians, and one of the things Don has to wrestle with is that he's sometimes embarrassed by others of his faith. (Which probably also may have cost it some popular support.)
But, seriously, how different is any of it from missionaries going out among the savages a thousand years ago? Not at all, really.
I was really pleasantly surprised with how the movie ended; in many ways, it's a perfect resolution to Don's character arc. The Boy decreed, after seeing this, "Critics are dumb. And they have bad taste."
I had a kind of eerie feeling throughout the proceedings. British directory Lindsay Anderson directed a trilogy of films: If... (1968), O Lucky Man! (1973) and Britannia Hospital (1982) with Malcolm MacDowell as a hapless naif who stumbles his way through degenerate British society—and this was a kind of late '60s/'70s thing, this genre of counter-culture movies design to show the wickedness of society while celebrating various other kinds of wickedness.
This reminded me so strongly of that kind of movie, with the weird vignettes of Portlandia, only from the other side. Twenty to thirty years after these guys won the war, the society that they've created is a bad parody of the parodies they ushered in the revolution with. The ignorance, amorality and just general pagan-ness of the proceedings—well, I think these are scarcely exaggerated. Kids are now being taught by teachers who were taught by teachers who had no interest in the truth.
The movie wisely steers clear of any expounding on these topics, just preferring to observe them. In a way, it presents this decadence as a failure of religion, and that's a fair cop. Even if we are sympathetic to the assault religion has undergone in the last century, on principle, you can't control something you won't take responsibility for. And the movie has an interesting response to that.
This is a really fine, solid film, that was saved by Kickstarter funding when traditional means of funding fell through. And unless you're completely allergic to Christianity, it's very watchable.
This is the odd tale of Don Miller, a Southern Baptist from deep-in-the-heart-of Texas who has a crisis of faith shortly before leaving for a Christian college, and ends up at Reed College in Portland, Oregon. Reed is a Godless, heathen cauldron of bubbling decadence—I mean, moreso than even your average university.
Don is quickly advised by Lauryn, a neo-Lesbian who unabashedly uses the unisex bathroom—the urinal, even—while he's in there, that he needs to get in the Christian closet if he expects to survive the year. As a white, Christian male, he is the source of all the world's problems.
What follows is a year of sly conformity, a friendship with the Reed College "pope", and the pursuit of a devoted activist, a comely, chaste blonde named Penny who is no dilettante when it comes to fighting for a cause she believes in.
The quirky characters and antics keep the movie entertaining, but unlike your average "coming of age" college story, there's some serious meat under here. Don struggles with what it means to be a Christian, when so many Christians are major-league jerks. Ultimately he struggles with the concepts of Jesus and God, and the very essence of religiosity.
This is not a preachy movie, however. There is a ton of debauchery (though no explicit sex or graphic drug use), which has upset some Christians, and one of the things Don has to wrestle with is that he's sometimes embarrassed by others of his faith. (Which probably also may have cost it some popular support.)
But, seriously, how different is any of it from missionaries going out among the savages a thousand years ago? Not at all, really.
I was really pleasantly surprised with how the movie ended; in many ways, it's a perfect resolution to Don's character arc. The Boy decreed, after seeing this, "Critics are dumb. And they have bad taste."
I had a kind of eerie feeling throughout the proceedings. British directory Lindsay Anderson directed a trilogy of films: If... (1968), O Lucky Man! (1973) and Britannia Hospital (1982) with Malcolm MacDowell as a hapless naif who stumbles his way through degenerate British society—and this was a kind of late '60s/'70s thing, this genre of counter-culture movies design to show the wickedness of society while celebrating various other kinds of wickedness.
This reminded me so strongly of that kind of movie, with the weird vignettes of Portlandia, only from the other side. Twenty to thirty years after these guys won the war, the society that they've created is a bad parody of the parodies they ushered in the revolution with. The ignorance, amorality and just general pagan-ness of the proceedings—well, I think these are scarcely exaggerated. Kids are now being taught by teachers who were taught by teachers who had no interest in the truth.
The movie wisely steers clear of any expounding on these topics, just preferring to observe them. In a way, it presents this decadence as a failure of religion, and that's a fair cop. Even if we are sympathetic to the assault religion has undergone in the last century, on principle, you can't control something you won't take responsibility for. And the movie has an interesting response to that.
This is a really fine, solid film, that was saved by Kickstarter funding when traditional means of funding fell through. And unless you're completely allergic to Christianity, it's very watchable.
Act of Valor
"It's propaganda...but I liked it. A lot." So sayeth The Boy regarding Act of Valor, the special ops action movie featuring actual special ops guys.
It is propaganda, of the sort Hollywood used to turn out pretty regularly: Pro-America movies about our kick-ass soldiers saving the world from the bad guys.
It's also the coolest movie in I don't know how long. As someone who could see the US go back to not having a standing army, it still was amazing to see all the cool hardware our troops have. The action is cooler than the other side of the pillow (I'm bringing the '90s back, one tired expression at a time!)
It's also the most macho movie I've seen in a long time, including The Expendables. There's actually a fair amount of emotion in it, with the guys going to do the stuff they have to do, even if it means possibly widowing their wives and leaving their children without fathers.
But the entertainment factor is the attention to detail as the special forces guys go off to save a victim of torture or to stop a madman from releasing splodeydopes into the US. There's all kinds of stuff you just don't see in your regular action flick.
This has gotten some negative buzz: It's a little clunky in some of the scenes, especially the ones showing "the guys" hanging out and talking natural. It was weird, because the dialog sounded realistic enough, and the delivery was pretty natural. But "natural" sounds weird unless the sound editing is really crisp, and the mix is a little off here at times.
The characters were hard for me to keep track of, as well, but I felt like it really didn't matter. The whole thing has a feeling of it being about the job, and the traditional narrative approach of informing the audience about this character or that so that they feel the drama more when tragedy strikes—although that's used here, it's superfluous.
Why? Because they're all human beings. They're all heroes. One getting wounded or killed is a loss and a tragedy, whether you know his "back story" or not. They could've left the back story out completely, I think.
But maybe that's just me.
On the other hand, when you hear negative press about this, consider the Rotten Tomatoes rating: Critics, 25%. Moviegoers, 80%. Critics couldn't possibly love this film: It's an action film, it's fiercely pro-American (though nobody expounds on American superiority, it's kinda self-evident), the villains are largely Muslim, etc.
We enjoyed the hell out of it. And our admiration tended to grow over time. It's easily re-watchable, to boot.
It is propaganda, of the sort Hollywood used to turn out pretty regularly: Pro-America movies about our kick-ass soldiers saving the world from the bad guys.
It's also the coolest movie in I don't know how long. As someone who could see the US go back to not having a standing army, it still was amazing to see all the cool hardware our troops have. The action is cooler than the other side of the pillow (I'm bringing the '90s back, one tired expression at a time!)
It's also the most macho movie I've seen in a long time, including The Expendables. There's actually a fair amount of emotion in it, with the guys going to do the stuff they have to do, even if it means possibly widowing their wives and leaving their children without fathers.
But the entertainment factor is the attention to detail as the special forces guys go off to save a victim of torture or to stop a madman from releasing splodeydopes into the US. There's all kinds of stuff you just don't see in your regular action flick.
This has gotten some negative buzz: It's a little clunky in some of the scenes, especially the ones showing "the guys" hanging out and talking natural. It was weird, because the dialog sounded realistic enough, and the delivery was pretty natural. But "natural" sounds weird unless the sound editing is really crisp, and the mix is a little off here at times.
The characters were hard for me to keep track of, as well, but I felt like it really didn't matter. The whole thing has a feeling of it being about the job, and the traditional narrative approach of informing the audience about this character or that so that they feel the drama more when tragedy strikes—although that's used here, it's superfluous.
Why? Because they're all human beings. They're all heroes. One getting wounded or killed is a loss and a tragedy, whether you know his "back story" or not. They could've left the back story out completely, I think.
But maybe that's just me.
On the other hand, when you hear negative press about this, consider the Rotten Tomatoes rating: Critics, 25%. Moviegoers, 80%. Critics couldn't possibly love this film: It's an action film, it's fiercely pro-American (though nobody expounds on American superiority, it's kinda self-evident), the villains are largely Muslim, etc.
We enjoyed the hell out of it. And our admiration tended to grow over time. It's easily re-watchable, to boot.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
The Gray, er Grey
Liam Neeson's kind of freaking me out lately. It's not that he's decided to go full-on action hero in his 50s. That's cool. Gives me something to look forward to. No, it's that his recent movies all seem to feature him grieving over a lost or deceased wife.
It's a little weird. In the case of The Grey, particularly because he's in the snow. Fortunately, this has nothing to do with the wife he's pining for. (But from the commercials, it's hard to know that.)
This movie was sort of a surprise to the Boy and I, actually. We were expecting more of a spy-like action thriller, like Unknown or Taken. In fact, this is a Ten Little Indians story, where the cast is plucked off one-by-one. Not by a mad slasher, but by The Wild. Particularly, but not exclusively, wolves. Not all of whom are grey.
Really didn't see that coming.
The basic idea is that Liam works for an oil company up in Alaska, where his role is to shoot any animals that threaten the workers. Particularly, but not exclusively, wolves. On a flight into town with a bunch of these oil-drillin' miscreants, the plane crashes, and the survivors—well, they're basically screwed. Alaska's a big ol' place without a lot of Howard Johnson's on a per-square-foot basis.
Any idea of huddling up by the wreckage—which Liam assures them is simply waiting for death, since there's no way they're going to be found—is cut short by the appearance of Very Large Wolves. The wolves aren't even that hungry, apparently, indicating their aggression is due to the presence of interlopers in their territory.
In the weakest part of the movie, plot-wise, Liam suggests moving as quickly as possible to a forest barely visible on the horizon. (Because wolves hate forests?)
Anyway, the misfit group of survivors trudge across the tundra while Forces of Nature pick them off. It's quite gripping really. Director and co-writer Joe Carnahan keeps things moving while his script (with Ian Jeffers) manages to feel fresh. It's not really a horror movie, but it basically follows Joe Bob's rule of great horror movies: "Anyone can die at any time."
Except Liam, of course.
Anyway, we were pleasantly surprised.
It's a little weird. In the case of The Grey, particularly because he's in the snow. Fortunately, this has nothing to do with the wife he's pining for. (But from the commercials, it's hard to know that.)
This movie was sort of a surprise to the Boy and I, actually. We were expecting more of a spy-like action thriller, like Unknown or Taken. In fact, this is a Ten Little Indians story, where the cast is plucked off one-by-one. Not by a mad slasher, but by The Wild. Particularly, but not exclusively, wolves. Not all of whom are grey.
Really didn't see that coming.
The basic idea is that Liam works for an oil company up in Alaska, where his role is to shoot any animals that threaten the workers. Particularly, but not exclusively, wolves. On a flight into town with a bunch of these oil-drillin' miscreants, the plane crashes, and the survivors—well, they're basically screwed. Alaska's a big ol' place without a lot of Howard Johnson's on a per-square-foot basis.
Any idea of huddling up by the wreckage—which Liam assures them is simply waiting for death, since there's no way they're going to be found—is cut short by the appearance of Very Large Wolves. The wolves aren't even that hungry, apparently, indicating their aggression is due to the presence of interlopers in their territory.
In the weakest part of the movie, plot-wise, Liam suggests moving as quickly as possible to a forest barely visible on the horizon. (Because wolves hate forests?)
Anyway, the misfit group of survivors trudge across the tundra while Forces of Nature pick them off. It's quite gripping really. Director and co-writer Joe Carnahan keeps things moving while his script (with Ian Jeffers) manages to feel fresh. It's not really a horror movie, but it basically follows Joe Bob's rule of great horror movies: "Anyone can die at any time."
Except Liam, of course.
Anyway, we were pleasantly surprised.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Footnote
"I've been seeing all these movies I think are going to be funny, and they're not," quoth The Boy in the lobby after Footnote, the Israeli film about a competitive father and son who are Talmudic scholars, and who face a crisis when the father is informed he has received an award that was actually meant for the son.
OK, that's probably my fault, but hear me out: The trailers look whimsical. They use a lot of pizzicato, which is the universal sign of cartoon whimsy.
Well, I guess not universal, apparently stopping at the West Bank.
Like the many other Israeli films we've seen lately, Footnote draws strong characters and sets them in motion against each other, like American movies used to in the '30s and '40s. The movie opens with the son receiving an award, but the camera is on the father. He's despondent, sluggish, unhappy, even as his son relates a story meant to flatter him.
We subsequently learn the true story is much less flattering than the way the son makes it out.
When the father is called and told he has won the Israel prize, he changes. Comes alive. His life's work (thwarted by a twist of fate) has not gone unrecognized. So when the son finds out the truth, he can't bring himself to let the father find out.
And while it is funny in parts, and oddly so sometimes (as when the son is discussing the matter with the prize committee in a room that doesn't really fit them all), this is a movie about what's true versus what's nice, and ultimately what is right.
Which, at least in this movie, is kind of a heavy topic.
The Boy liked it all right; I liked it more but I wasn't expecting an out-and-out comedy (and I'm pretty good about adapting to cinematic shifts in tone). I guess father/son competition is common, but I assured The Boy that he could exceed me in every fashion and I would be pleased. (Not that he could. *kaff*)
Anyway, I really did like this movie and the whole question of truth versus nice versus ethics was well done. (I think if I were going to take a message it would be that we should favor true over nice because nice may lead to very many not nice things whereas truth, however difficult, is at least simple.)
But I think writer/director Joseph Cedar (Beaufort) copped out at the end. There's a point where all the main characters have figured out exactly what has gone on, and the movie...just ends. I mean, I get that. There's a danger of getting cheesy, or melodramatic, or...well, there's just a lot of pitfalls.
What we got instead was no resolution, which if one follows the implication through, suggest that everyone has sold themselves out and just left things as they were forever after.
So...no. Didn't like the ending. Felt we deserved to see the characters handle their situations. But otherwise, I'd give this a thumbs up.
Nominated for the foreign language movie Oscar.
OK, that's probably my fault, but hear me out: The trailers look whimsical. They use a lot of pizzicato, which is the universal sign of cartoon whimsy.
Well, I guess not universal, apparently stopping at the West Bank.
Like the many other Israeli films we've seen lately, Footnote draws strong characters and sets them in motion against each other, like American movies used to in the '30s and '40s. The movie opens with the son receiving an award, but the camera is on the father. He's despondent, sluggish, unhappy, even as his son relates a story meant to flatter him.
We subsequently learn the true story is much less flattering than the way the son makes it out.
When the father is called and told he has won the Israel prize, he changes. Comes alive. His life's work (thwarted by a twist of fate) has not gone unrecognized. So when the son finds out the truth, he can't bring himself to let the father find out.
And while it is funny in parts, and oddly so sometimes (as when the son is discussing the matter with the prize committee in a room that doesn't really fit them all), this is a movie about what's true versus what's nice, and ultimately what is right.
Which, at least in this movie, is kind of a heavy topic.
The Boy liked it all right; I liked it more but I wasn't expecting an out-and-out comedy (and I'm pretty good about adapting to cinematic shifts in tone). I guess father/son competition is common, but I assured The Boy that he could exceed me in every fashion and I would be pleased. (Not that he could. *kaff*)
Anyway, I really did like this movie and the whole question of truth versus nice versus ethics was well done. (I think if I were going to take a message it would be that we should favor true over nice because nice may lead to very many not nice things whereas truth, however difficult, is at least simple.)
But I think writer/director Joseph Cedar (Beaufort) copped out at the end. There's a point where all the main characters have figured out exactly what has gone on, and the movie...just ends. I mean, I get that. There's a danger of getting cheesy, or melodramatic, or...well, there's just a lot of pitfalls.
What we got instead was no resolution, which if one follows the implication through, suggest that everyone has sold themselves out and just left things as they were forever after.
So...no. Didn't like the ending. Felt we deserved to see the characters handle their situations. But otherwise, I'd give this a thumbs up.
Nominated for the foreign language movie Oscar.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Jeff, Who Lives At Home
The affable Jason Segel, who graced us with his penis in his Forgetting Sarah Marshall, plays a shiftless 30-year-old man-child who—
Wait, I gotta stop this review for a moment. Does it seem to anyone else like all the movies these days center around shiftless young men? Or at least, all the movies centered around young men are either feature them as fantasy heroes—or shiftless layabouts?
Don't men go out in the world to seek their fortune, overcome obstacles and find love any more? I mean, I know there's a trend, of sorts, of young people living at home but The Boy is talking about moving out when he turns 18 next year! (I hope he hangs out a bit but far be it from me to stand in his way.)
I digress.
In Jeff, Who Lives At Home, Segel (as the eponymous Jeff) is a 30-year-old man-child who's puffing it up in the basement when he gets a call from an angry guy looking for Kevin. Jeff is a big fan of M. Night Shyamalan's Signs, and also a heavy pot-smoker, so he's sure this means something.
He then gets a call from his irritated mother (Susan Sarandon). It's her birthday and she wants him to get some wood glue, so that he can fix the slat on a closet door. That's all she wants out of him, but it's clear she doesn't think he's up to even that minor task.
Reluctantly, Jeff meanders onto the bus, but he's immediately side-tracked by a kid wearing a basketball jersey with the name "Kevin" on the back.
And so goes the story.
Jeff's journey takes him all over the place, as he crosses paths with his (relatively) high-powered paint-store employee older brother (Ed Helms, playing a high-strung asshole, rather than a high-strung nebbish, as in Hangover and Cedar Rapids) and his brother's wife (Judy Greer, The Descendants), as well as his mother and her friend (Rae Dawn Chong).
Somehow, in defiance of stereotypes and melanin, in this movie the 51-year-old Rae Dawn Chong looks older than 65-year-old Susan Sarandon. Not sure how that happened, since Susan Sarandon always looked a little older than her age.
Anyway, the whole Chong/Sarandon part of the story-arc is ridiculously obvious from the get-go.
There are actually quite a few really obvious parts to this movie, which didn't really bug me.
I actually didn't see much in the way of trailers for this film so I don't know how they're pitching it. It's not really whimsical; it's really a bit too heavy for that. It's funny, but The Boy complained it wasn't funny enough, and I noted that it's not really a comedy.
It's really a "light" dysfunctional family film. Trying to think of a film this was most like, atmosphere-wise, Cyrus came to mind. Which, upon reflection, makes sense, given that the Duplass brothers wrote and directed both movies (and Baghead, which also had a similar feel).
So, these guys have a style. You probably know whether you like it. The Boy and The Flower both liked it, though The Boy wanted more humor, as noted. However, you might not like Jeff. Or his brother. Or his mother. (They are listless. Low-key. Irritable. Aimless.)
In which case, you probably won't like this film.
I did, though, because I felt like they were trying, and the movie gives you a reason to hope.
Wait, I gotta stop this review for a moment. Does it seem to anyone else like all the movies these days center around shiftless young men? Or at least, all the movies centered around young men are either feature them as fantasy heroes—or shiftless layabouts?
Don't men go out in the world to seek their fortune, overcome obstacles and find love any more? I mean, I know there's a trend, of sorts, of young people living at home but The Boy is talking about moving out when he turns 18 next year! (I hope he hangs out a bit but far be it from me to stand in his way.)
I digress.
In Jeff, Who Lives At Home, Segel (as the eponymous Jeff) is a 30-year-old man-child who's puffing it up in the basement when he gets a call from an angry guy looking for Kevin. Jeff is a big fan of M. Night Shyamalan's Signs, and also a heavy pot-smoker, so he's sure this means something.
He then gets a call from his irritated mother (Susan Sarandon). It's her birthday and she wants him to get some wood glue, so that he can fix the slat on a closet door. That's all she wants out of him, but it's clear she doesn't think he's up to even that minor task.
Reluctantly, Jeff meanders onto the bus, but he's immediately side-tracked by a kid wearing a basketball jersey with the name "Kevin" on the back.
And so goes the story.
Jeff's journey takes him all over the place, as he crosses paths with his (relatively) high-powered paint-store employee older brother (Ed Helms, playing a high-strung asshole, rather than a high-strung nebbish, as in Hangover and Cedar Rapids) and his brother's wife (Judy Greer, The Descendants), as well as his mother and her friend (Rae Dawn Chong).
Somehow, in defiance of stereotypes and melanin, in this movie the 51-year-old Rae Dawn Chong looks older than 65-year-old Susan Sarandon. Not sure how that happened, since Susan Sarandon always looked a little older than her age.
Anyway, the whole Chong/Sarandon part of the story-arc is ridiculously obvious from the get-go.
There are actually quite a few really obvious parts to this movie, which didn't really bug me.
I actually didn't see much in the way of trailers for this film so I don't know how they're pitching it. It's not really whimsical; it's really a bit too heavy for that. It's funny, but The Boy complained it wasn't funny enough, and I noted that it's not really a comedy.
It's really a "light" dysfunctional family film. Trying to think of a film this was most like, atmosphere-wise, Cyrus came to mind. Which, upon reflection, makes sense, given that the Duplass brothers wrote and directed both movies (and Baghead, which also had a similar feel).
So, these guys have a style. You probably know whether you like it. The Boy and The Flower both liked it, though The Boy wanted more humor, as noted. However, you might not like Jeff. Or his brother. Or his mother. (They are listless. Low-key. Irritable. Aimless.)
In which case, you probably won't like this film.
I did, though, because I felt like they were trying, and the movie gives you a reason to hope.
Monday, April 2, 2012
Hunger Games
In a dystopic future, random citizens are pulled from the populous to die for the entertainment of others in The Hunger Games.
Fresh!
People don't know this but the original title of this movie was Escape From The Dangerous Naked Apocalyptic Roller Maiden Logan And The Soylent Thunder Death Race Running Killer Cyborg Idiocracy 2020AD. True story!
OK, so, this is the story of a future (technologically advanced) world where a strong central government district basically enslaves 12 subordinate districts, and shows its metaphorical pimp hand by annually plucking two random teenagers (one boy, one girl) out of the population and forcing them to serve in the titular games.
Said games involving fighting to the death. Not even the last pair: Either one girl or one boy survives.
Movies like this (and there have been oh, so many) can be weighted in several different ways: Social commentary, commentary on human nature, and, of course, action. For example, all the '80s Road Warrior knock-offs were basically just Enter The Dragon in a post-apocalyptic millieu. They barely commented on human nature, much less made an attempt at relevent social commentary. The '70s Rollerball, which is probably over-rated at least in part because of the execrable remake, was heavy with the typical nihilism-laden commentary of that era.
In fact, if there's a problem with this sort of movie, it's that the desire to be relevant and meaningful is often just an dime-store philosophical icing on top of a doughnut of action. Whether that doughnut is stale or not, the icing ain't gonna help. (Hunger Games, see? Food metaphors? Not doing it for you?)
So, let's look at the initial setup for the movie first: The concept of an oppressive central government. That's some fine social commentary there. And the beauty of it is that, a la Scrotie McBoogerballs, it doesn't matter where you fall politically: You can support your feeble platform here, given the complete lack of information as to how the central government became powerful in the first place.
Though not well detailed in the movie, it feels real enough. Central governments have been known to leech off their colonies, and oppress said colonies. So, sure. Why not. Good social commentary.
Now, I'm of the opinion that the social commentary is less relevant than the commentary on human nature. And here, frankly, I find the movie wanting. I mean, it's all very well to show the oppressed people how oppressed they are by you, but if you're going to do it by killing their children in a spectacular television extravaganza you'd better REALLY have them pinned down.
You know what I mean? Child killing is a real rabble-rouser. It's an awesome humiliation, for sure, but you gotta be able to pull it off or you'll get riots. And, in fact, they do at one point, which one could charitably attribute to a weakening of the central power. That is, perhaps these games started when the central power was stronger and this story takes place as the power is collapsing.
The more realistic view is that a young adult novel should feature young adults as the main characters. I'm not gonna fault that (much).
There are actually quite a few places where you can either take a charitable view or not. I was inclined to be charitable: I understand the books filled in the blanks, and it didn't feel like the movie was just making stuff up as it went along but rather skipping the unimportant details.
Finally, there's the action. And it's solid. A nice mix of hand-to-hand, running and hiding, traps, cleverness, and so on. What's more, you get some pretty strong characters.
Jennifer Lawrence (as Katniss) is typically compelling. Tough by nature, and also socially awkward, the sense that there's a wildly emotional teenage girl underneath is overpowering. Not unlike her roles in Winter's Bone and as Mystique in X-Men: First Class. That she has a certain star quality is apparent at this point.
That said, I actually liked her boy counterpart, Peeta, better. Ably played by Josh Hutcherson, Peeta is the baker's son, who lacks the athletic skills the others have, but manages to be resourceful and simply strong in ways that others aren't.
Woody Harrelson reprises his role from Kingpin, or really Bill Murray's role from Kingpin. He didn't quite work for me. I really didn't recongize Elizabeth Banks or Wes Bentley. Donald Sutherland is wonderful, of course, but his moonbatty conviction doesn't carry the fact that his expository dialog makes the least sense (at least to me).
Stanley Tucci steals every scene he's in, becoming an oddly charismatic and repulsive mixture of Richard Dawson, Monty Python and Satan. As a character and a caricature (of entertainment media personalities), he's uncomfortably real feeling.
Also a mixture of uncomfortable caricature and realistic depiction are the audiences, which have to echo strongly with the viewers of certain reality shows.
So, what's the verdict? Well, I'll tell you: I think this movie separates the boys (and girls) from the old folks. The number of times I thought of another movie while watching this is literally uncountable, and the movie gives what has to be knowing nods to classic dystopic films. This film could have been made in 1974 for the way it looks and feels.
Except! It lacks the characteristic despair of that era. Which, frankly, is welcome in its absence.
This being my millieu, I got a few smiles, especially in the Capitol, where I felt like the director, costumer and set designers were all winking at me. And, really? The movies that this borrows from really weren't that good. So, yeah, I liked it.
The Flower and the Boy both liked it. The Flower in a simple fashion, as befits her ten-year-old nature. The Boy's reaction was more of pleasant surprise. He felt like the 2+ hours passed in a subjective 90 minute way.
Most of the negative reviews I've seen are from the older set, and I can understand this, but I would say: Yes, it's been done many, many times. But has it been done better? In a lot of ways, I think the "young adult" nature of the story (like last year's The Eagle) keeps it out of the weeds more "adult" presentations tend to wallow in.
Fresh!
People don't know this but the original title of this movie was Escape From The Dangerous Naked Apocalyptic Roller Maiden Logan And The Soylent Thunder Death Race Running Killer Cyborg Idiocracy 2020AD. True story!
OK, so, this is the story of a future (technologically advanced) world where a strong central government district basically enslaves 12 subordinate districts, and shows its metaphorical pimp hand by annually plucking two random teenagers (one boy, one girl) out of the population and forcing them to serve in the titular games.
Said games involving fighting to the death. Not even the last pair: Either one girl or one boy survives.
Movies like this (and there have been oh, so many) can be weighted in several different ways: Social commentary, commentary on human nature, and, of course, action. For example, all the '80s Road Warrior knock-offs were basically just Enter The Dragon in a post-apocalyptic millieu. They barely commented on human nature, much less made an attempt at relevent social commentary. The '70s Rollerball, which is probably over-rated at least in part because of the execrable remake, was heavy with the typical nihilism-laden commentary of that era.
In fact, if there's a problem with this sort of movie, it's that the desire to be relevant and meaningful is often just an dime-store philosophical icing on top of a doughnut of action. Whether that doughnut is stale or not, the icing ain't gonna help. (Hunger Games, see? Food metaphors? Not doing it for you?)
So, let's look at the initial setup for the movie first: The concept of an oppressive central government. That's some fine social commentary there. And the beauty of it is that, a la Scrotie McBoogerballs, it doesn't matter where you fall politically: You can support your feeble platform here, given the complete lack of information as to how the central government became powerful in the first place.
Though not well detailed in the movie, it feels real enough. Central governments have been known to leech off their colonies, and oppress said colonies. So, sure. Why not. Good social commentary.
Now, I'm of the opinion that the social commentary is less relevant than the commentary on human nature. And here, frankly, I find the movie wanting. I mean, it's all very well to show the oppressed people how oppressed they are by you, but if you're going to do it by killing their children in a spectacular television extravaganza you'd better REALLY have them pinned down.
You know what I mean? Child killing is a real rabble-rouser. It's an awesome humiliation, for sure, but you gotta be able to pull it off or you'll get riots. And, in fact, they do at one point, which one could charitably attribute to a weakening of the central power. That is, perhaps these games started when the central power was stronger and this story takes place as the power is collapsing.
The more realistic view is that a young adult novel should feature young adults as the main characters. I'm not gonna fault that (much).
There are actually quite a few places where you can either take a charitable view or not. I was inclined to be charitable: I understand the books filled in the blanks, and it didn't feel like the movie was just making stuff up as it went along but rather skipping the unimportant details.
Finally, there's the action. And it's solid. A nice mix of hand-to-hand, running and hiding, traps, cleverness, and so on. What's more, you get some pretty strong characters.
Jennifer Lawrence (as Katniss) is typically compelling. Tough by nature, and also socially awkward, the sense that there's a wildly emotional teenage girl underneath is overpowering. Not unlike her roles in Winter's Bone and as Mystique in X-Men: First Class. That she has a certain star quality is apparent at this point.
That said, I actually liked her boy counterpart, Peeta, better. Ably played by Josh Hutcherson, Peeta is the baker's son, who lacks the athletic skills the others have, but manages to be resourceful and simply strong in ways that others aren't.
Woody Harrelson reprises his role from Kingpin, or really Bill Murray's role from Kingpin. He didn't quite work for me. I really didn't recongize Elizabeth Banks or Wes Bentley. Donald Sutherland is wonderful, of course, but his moonbatty conviction doesn't carry the fact that his expository dialog makes the least sense (at least to me).
Stanley Tucci steals every scene he's in, becoming an oddly charismatic and repulsive mixture of Richard Dawson, Monty Python and Satan. As a character and a caricature (of entertainment media personalities), he's uncomfortably real feeling.
Also a mixture of uncomfortable caricature and realistic depiction are the audiences, which have to echo strongly with the viewers of certain reality shows.
So, what's the verdict? Well, I'll tell you: I think this movie separates the boys (and girls) from the old folks. The number of times I thought of another movie while watching this is literally uncountable, and the movie gives what has to be knowing nods to classic dystopic films. This film could have been made in 1974 for the way it looks and feels.
Except! It lacks the characteristic despair of that era. Which, frankly, is welcome in its absence.
This being my millieu, I got a few smiles, especially in the Capitol, where I felt like the director, costumer and set designers were all winking at me. And, really? The movies that this borrows from really weren't that good. So, yeah, I liked it.
The Flower and the Boy both liked it. The Flower in a simple fashion, as befits her ten-year-old nature. The Boy's reaction was more of pleasant surprise. He felt like the 2+ hours passed in a subjective 90 minute way.
Most of the negative reviews I've seen are from the older set, and I can understand this, but I would say: Yes, it's been done many, many times. But has it been done better? In a lot of ways, I think the "young adult" nature of the story (like last year's The Eagle) keeps it out of the weeds more "adult" presentations tend to wallow in.
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