What if, instead of centering around Roman Catholics, The Exorcist had centered around orthodox Judaism instead? If you've ever asked yourself that question (and I know I haven't), Posession is the movie for you.
In this case, the demonic spirit comes to an unsuspecting young girl, Hannah (played by a very Lohan-esque looking Natasha Kalis) via a dybbuk box. You may remember a few years back, some wag put a dybbuk box up for sale, claiming to have suffered various ill effects from the spirits within. Well, Leslie Gornstein wrote an article about it for the L.A. Times, and Juliet Snowden and Stiles White turned it into the screenplay for this flick.
Based on a true story, right?
Anyway, Hannah's parents (Jeffrey Dean Morgan and Kyra Sedgewick) have recently divorced and dad's moved into a spooky new exurban tract home where most of the action takes place, even though it's the girl and the box that are the issue. Unpopular with Hannah and her big sister (played by the impossibly-named Madison Davenport) is smarmy new guy, Grant Show (in a thankless role you know isn't going to turn out well).
The exorcist is played by the "Hasidic Reggae Supertar" Matisyahu, whom I would've sworn was someone from the Apatow crowd with a long beard. But it's a small role.
What we have here is an updated Exorcist, stripped of any theological depth, and of any special effects that might give it an R rating. It's not quite the Hawaiian curse episode of "The Brady Bunch" but in steering away from most of the unpleasant aspects of possession, what you end up with is a movie that's probably easier to watch, but more of a thriller than a horror flick. (Since the underpinning is still horror, though, it's a thriller without any of the laws of physics or causality.)
It's not bad. It's just not very good, either. I got a small kick out of mentally cataloging all the similarities between this and The Exorcist, most of which weren't really necessary. In the older, better movie, the divorce was critical to the story, for example. In this movie, it's just a thing. For example, at one point the father is supposed to have hit the Hannah; this doesn't really develop, though.
At one point, they go to the hospital for an MRI, like in the original. Only one thing comes of this, and then the movie ends up playing out in the hospital, with all kinds of chaos and heck breaking loose, but with absolutely no staff or other people around somehow.
There's actually a lot of stuff like that in this movie: Ideas that are things but just sort of sit there. The dybbuk box itself starts out pretty strong and is critical to the movie, but for something that might have been used to create some suspense, it spends most of the middle of the movie feeling like a prop.
Dad is not around because he's a sports coach, except when he is, which by the very structure of the movie is necessarily all the time—he's basically the main character—so that whole angle doesn't really pan out.
It's just feels shallow and unambitious, which is an unfortunate thing to mix with "blatant clone of classic film". It's not horrible or anything and, much like House at the End of the Street, it could easily be on TV and you could watch it during dinner without worrying about being grossed out or even particularly jumpy.
Kyra Sedgwick was really good, though. She'd been playing "The Closer" for so long, I practically forgot she was playing a character. She plays a completely different sort of character here.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Thursday, November 15, 2012
The Sessions
What's a paralytic polio victim to do, once he's hit 38 and wants to get some action?
I'm assuming here, the guy has no game, what with being in an iron lung most of his life.
Well, if he's a poetic Catholic in Northern California in the late '80s, he might consult with his priest. And since it's Northern California in the late '80s, that priest is probably going to encourage him. And before you know it, he's got a sex surrogate showing him the (heh) ins and outs of makin' sweet love.
And who better to star as the sex surrogate than Helen Hunt, reprising the role she played 20 years in The Waterdance? And who better to replace Eric Stoltz than John Hawkes?
Nah, just kidding, the two movies aren't really that close. Just paralysis and naked Helen Hunt.
So, this is a typical Hollywood glorification of sin and promiscuity, but it's a pretty good movie for that.
John Hawkes plays Mark O'Brien, a sufferer of polio (based on a true story!) who finds himself yearning for a real romantic relationship, especially when he replaces his frumpy old caretaker (played the great character actress Rusty Schwimmer) with the hot young co-ed (Annika Marks).
This leads him to Moon Bloodgood (who is quite good in this, apparently surviving her brush with the mediocrity that is "Falling Skies"). Then Helen Hunt. And finally Robin Weigert. Lotta chicks end up liking this guy.
Earl W. Brown also has a role, by the way, making a mini-"Deadwood" reunion (Hawkes, Weigert and Brown).
So, the acting is top notch. Hawkes is great and consistently under-appreciated around award season.
The story—well, it's touching. O'Brien wrestles with God and theology, and is genuinely concerned at the prospect of sinning. And you can't help but root for him. He's a sensitive, intelligent guy with normal drives that are utterly thwarted by his physical state.
It's the sort of thing that the secular world just says "Screw theology. Go for it." The fact that the movie never really gets deeper than that keeps the proceedings light and fluffy, but probably shortchanges Macy's priest and O'Brien's devout Catholic.
Eh. It's impossible not to root for this guy and hope that his "sessions" don't work out. But it's shallow in the area of morality.
The story touches briefly on the general ickiness of sex surrogate-ness. Hunt has a kid and is married to a worthless "philosopher" (the always excellent Adam Arkin). And while it's all supposed to be profesisonal, O'Brien's desire for a normal, romantic relationship is seductive in its own way to a woman whose own husband doesn't care enough about her to, you know, stop her from having sex with other guys for a living.
(Hey, that's my interpretation. I'm sure more sensitive ones are available.)
So, fun, lively, heartwarming and incredibly graphic film of dubious moral proportions. View accordingly.
It's impossible to discuss this film without discussing Helen Hunt's looks. She's in her late 40s, which is age appropriate for the role, and she's also about as nude as you can be in an MPAA "R" rated flick. I'm reminded of the saying (attributed to Catherine Deneuve) that "after 30, an actress has to choose between her face and her ass".
Well, Hunt's ass is amazing. Actually, her whole body is. She's lean and tight and there are plenty of women 20 or even 30 years younger who would kill to have her body.
Her face? Well, I'm not someone who ever thought Hunt was a great beauty. But her face is positively distracting in this film. Part of it can be attributed to really severe makeup in the styles of the '80s. But not nearly enough. I suppose part of it can be attributed to knowing what she looked like 30 years ago, though The Boy thought she was odd looking, too.
So, whether it's that she hasn't gotten plastic surgery or that she has, it's conspicuous. (It may be, per Deneuve, that the same leanness that makes her body look so tight also makes her face tight.) It's a testament to her acting ability that she can overcome this, at least to a degree. She still can project a winning warmth and appeal.
But I can't help but wonder if they'd gone a little less porny and had her put on 10-15 pounds, if that might not have better served the story.
I'm assuming here, the guy has no game, what with being in an iron lung most of his life.
Well, if he's a poetic Catholic in Northern California in the late '80s, he might consult with his priest. And since it's Northern California in the late '80s, that priest is probably going to encourage him. And before you know it, he's got a sex surrogate showing him the (heh) ins and outs of makin' sweet love.
And who better to star as the sex surrogate than Helen Hunt, reprising the role she played 20 years in The Waterdance? And who better to replace Eric Stoltz than John Hawkes?
Nah, just kidding, the two movies aren't really that close. Just paralysis and naked Helen Hunt.
So, this is a typical Hollywood glorification of sin and promiscuity, but it's a pretty good movie for that.
John Hawkes plays Mark O'Brien, a sufferer of polio (based on a true story!) who finds himself yearning for a real romantic relationship, especially when he replaces his frumpy old caretaker (played the great character actress Rusty Schwimmer) with the hot young co-ed (Annika Marks).
This leads him to Moon Bloodgood (who is quite good in this, apparently surviving her brush with the mediocrity that is "Falling Skies"). Then Helen Hunt. And finally Robin Weigert. Lotta chicks end up liking this guy.
Earl W. Brown also has a role, by the way, making a mini-"Deadwood" reunion (Hawkes, Weigert and Brown).
So, the acting is top notch. Hawkes is great and consistently under-appreciated around award season.
The story—well, it's touching. O'Brien wrestles with God and theology, and is genuinely concerned at the prospect of sinning. And you can't help but root for him. He's a sensitive, intelligent guy with normal drives that are utterly thwarted by his physical state.
It's the sort of thing that the secular world just says "Screw theology. Go for it." The fact that the movie never really gets deeper than that keeps the proceedings light and fluffy, but probably shortchanges Macy's priest and O'Brien's devout Catholic.
Eh. It's impossible not to root for this guy and hope that his "sessions" don't work out. But it's shallow in the area of morality.
The story touches briefly on the general ickiness of sex surrogate-ness. Hunt has a kid and is married to a worthless "philosopher" (the always excellent Adam Arkin). And while it's all supposed to be profesisonal, O'Brien's desire for a normal, romantic relationship is seductive in its own way to a woman whose own husband doesn't care enough about her to, you know, stop her from having sex with other guys for a living.
(Hey, that's my interpretation. I'm sure more sensitive ones are available.)
So, fun, lively, heartwarming and incredibly graphic film of dubious moral proportions. View accordingly.
It's impossible to discuss this film without discussing Helen Hunt's looks. She's in her late 40s, which is age appropriate for the role, and she's also about as nude as you can be in an MPAA "R" rated flick. I'm reminded of the saying (attributed to Catherine Deneuve) that "after 30, an actress has to choose between her face and her ass".
Well, Hunt's ass is amazing. Actually, her whole body is. She's lean and tight and there are plenty of women 20 or even 30 years younger who would kill to have her body.
Her face? Well, I'm not someone who ever thought Hunt was a great beauty. But her face is positively distracting in this film. Part of it can be attributed to really severe makeup in the styles of the '80s. But not nearly enough. I suppose part of it can be attributed to knowing what she looked like 30 years ago, though The Boy thought she was odd looking, too.
So, whether it's that she hasn't gotten plastic surgery or that she has, it's conspicuous. (It may be, per Deneuve, that the same leanness that makes her body look so tight also makes her face tight.) It's a testament to her acting ability that she can overcome this, at least to a degree. She still can project a winning warmth and appeal.
But I can't help but wonder if they'd gone a little less porny and had her put on 10-15 pounds, if that might not have better served the story.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
House At The End Of The Street
I suspect The Boy has a little bit of a "thing" for Jennifer Lawrence, so when House At The End Of The Street came to the bargain theater at an opportune time, we shuttled out to see this movie, with it's title reminiscent of so many '70s flicks.
This has a sort of '70s feel to it, actually. Elissa (Lawrence) and her mom, Elizabeth Shue (whom I still know best as the actress who took over for Claudia Wells in the Back To The Future sequels, though she had a small role in Hope Springs) move to a rural town after—I dunno, something happened in Chicago or something.
Anyway, they take up in a lovely house (in the horror movie tradition) across from a house that they thought to be abandoned but in fact houses a boy a couple of years older than Elissa. The boy, Ryan (Max Thieriot), lives there alone because his parents were murdered, apparently by his sister, who ain't raht-in-the-head.
Faster than you can say "all the high school boys are weenies", Elissa has fallen for the troubled older boy. (Though the movie makes clear that Elissa is experienced, whereas Ryan appears to be not.)
Naturally, Mom's not thrilled with this, which, just as naturally, encourages Elissa to get even more involved and keep it from her mother. All setting up an environment where the whole question of whether Ryan is entirely sane, or whether crazy little sis is running around in the woods and looking to kill Elissa, cannot be properly examined in a timely fashion.
Mayhem ensues.
OK, this is a pretty by-the-numbers affair. But it was utterly trashed by critics (11% on that tomato-based site), and even the audiences (51%) weren't crazy about it. But it's not bad for what it is. There are a few twists that, while far from shocking, do keep things moving.
It's a little slow up front. There are points where Theo Green's (Dread) music is called into service inappropriately, presumably to create some tension in early scenes where none actually exists. (Better choice would've been to eliminate those scenes.)
But it's really not bad. One thing I was curious about was whether Lawrence would be able to pull off a damsel-in-distress role. In most of her parts, she plays a preternaturally strong young girl whose emotions are bubbling just under the surface. That's cool and all, but it's sorta what Kristen Stewart used to do—and never stopped doing.
And, hallelujah, she pulls it off! She's feisty in this but not heroic, emotional but it gets to actually bubble through rather than just percolate, and she actually seems vulnerable in human ways.
So, that's kinda cool. Kid might have some real chops.
So, there ya go: Middle-of-the-road thriller/horror. The camera, shall we say, enjoys Ms. Lawrence without leering at her (maybe that's why the critics trashed it). The Boy was entertained, not finding it great but not understanding the trashing either.
This has a sort of '70s feel to it, actually. Elissa (Lawrence) and her mom, Elizabeth Shue (whom I still know best as the actress who took over for Claudia Wells in the Back To The Future sequels, though she had a small role in Hope Springs) move to a rural town after—I dunno, something happened in Chicago or something.
Anyway, they take up in a lovely house (in the horror movie tradition) across from a house that they thought to be abandoned but in fact houses a boy a couple of years older than Elissa. The boy, Ryan (Max Thieriot), lives there alone because his parents were murdered, apparently by his sister, who ain't raht-in-the-head.
Faster than you can say "all the high school boys are weenies", Elissa has fallen for the troubled older boy. (Though the movie makes clear that Elissa is experienced, whereas Ryan appears to be not.)
Naturally, Mom's not thrilled with this, which, just as naturally, encourages Elissa to get even more involved and keep it from her mother. All setting up an environment where the whole question of whether Ryan is entirely sane, or whether crazy little sis is running around in the woods and looking to kill Elissa, cannot be properly examined in a timely fashion.
Mayhem ensues.
OK, this is a pretty by-the-numbers affair. But it was utterly trashed by critics (11% on that tomato-based site), and even the audiences (51%) weren't crazy about it. But it's not bad for what it is. There are a few twists that, while far from shocking, do keep things moving.
It's a little slow up front. There are points where Theo Green's (Dread) music is called into service inappropriately, presumably to create some tension in early scenes where none actually exists. (Better choice would've been to eliminate those scenes.)
But it's really not bad. One thing I was curious about was whether Lawrence would be able to pull off a damsel-in-distress role. In most of her parts, she plays a preternaturally strong young girl whose emotions are bubbling just under the surface. That's cool and all, but it's sorta what Kristen Stewart used to do—and never stopped doing.
And, hallelujah, she pulls it off! She's feisty in this but not heroic, emotional but it gets to actually bubble through rather than just percolate, and she actually seems vulnerable in human ways.
So, that's kinda cool. Kid might have some real chops.
So, there ya go: Middle-of-the-road thriller/horror. The camera, shall we say, enjoys Ms. Lawrence without leering at her (maybe that's why the critics trashed it). The Boy was entertained, not finding it great but not understanding the trashing either.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Bully
I had wondered why I was seeing so much buzz for Bully, the documentary about school bullying and its consequences until it came to the local bargain theater and the credits rolled.
"Presented by the Weinstein Company"
Ohhhh. You may remember the Weinsteins from when they were Miramax. They gave us Kevin Smith and, more relevantly, used their massive PR machine to secure an Oscar for Shakespeare In Love. So I don't think Dinesh D'Souza has to worry about writing that acceptance speech. We have a winner.
Snark and PR machine aside, Bully is the story of kids who were or have been bullied, beyond the typical shenanigans and well into abuse. Let me say up front that this is a pretty good documentary—I'll discuss its weaknesses in a bit—and it's hard not to feel for these kids.
Fortunately, we were the only ones in the theater, because I was exasperated enough to—well, be more expressive than is appropriate for a public viewing. The kids, of course, cope with the bullying the best they can. They're naive, bitter, optimistic, depressed, playful—just trying for something that works.
But the adults are fucking clueless.
Swearing is appropriate here.
I went to good schools. Yet the one universal quality they all had was a near complete lack of ethics. We hear all the excuses I've heard adults give my whole life in this movie. Things like "let the kids sort it out for themselves" and "it takes two" and other clueless things.
If the purpose of schools is to prepare children for life as an adult, I could never figure out the logic behind letting lunch money be extorted, or turning a blind eye to physical assaults, or even the sort of coordinated social ostracization that happens so often.
I guess women (and sometimes men, too, though I think not as commonly) do the social ostracization thing even outside of school. But, of course, one can escape most social circumstances (unlike school, and prison).
But, last time I checked, robbery, burglary and assault were all crimes. The people who commit them go to jail. The people who defend themselves from it are heroic, and entitled to use deadly force to keep from becoming victims.
The adult perspective of "Well, it's just kid stuff. It's not that serious" imposes an adult viewpoint on a child who can't possibly adopt it. A child doesn't know if that other, bigger child with the mob of friends is going to kill him. And, as this movie shows, it's often very, very serious.
I'm a laissez-faire parent in a lot of ways. But, as I've stated before, I'm suspicious of techniques for handling children that reinforce adults' natural tendency to be lazy. And figuring out the ethics of a situation between kids can be very difficult indeed.
But that's not what we're dealing with here: There are tormentors. And there are the tormented. And neither are served.
Indeed, this is where this movie is the weakest: It alternates between a half-dozen kids, showing a nerdy boy and a black girl and a lesbian and friends of one who committed suicide and so on, and it's probably between 25%-40% more than we need to see. Even my kids, who are pretty unfamiliar with bullying, got the idea in the first hour.
What would've made this movie great is spending some time with the bullies. I can get why this would be challenging but you only get half a story. It's a tragedy with no villain, practically.
And not just bullies but everyone. Bullies are typically loners or small packs that pick on other loners or small packs. But they do so with the tacit (or overt) approval of the entire community.
What possible good comes out of an environment like that?
Yes, whether meaning to or not, this plays to my prejudices as a homeschooling parent. Because nobody seriously questions the academic superiority of homeschooling these days, the fallback is "But what about socialization?!" Yeah. Spare me. I've seen what passes for socialization in schools. It's basically prison with evening furloughs.
So, overall a good documentary, powered a lot by the subjects, but not the best documentary we've seen this year, whatever the Academy Awards say. The Boy and The Flower both liked, even though they had limited experience with bullying. (The Boy has always been immune and The Flower is very cognizant of the jerkiness of some of her peers. She finds it disappointing but isn't trapped enough to feel bullied.)
"Presented by the Weinstein Company"
Ohhhh. You may remember the Weinsteins from when they were Miramax. They gave us Kevin Smith and, more relevantly, used their massive PR machine to secure an Oscar for Shakespeare In Love. So I don't think Dinesh D'Souza has to worry about writing that acceptance speech. We have a winner.
Snark and PR machine aside, Bully is the story of kids who were or have been bullied, beyond the typical shenanigans and well into abuse. Let me say up front that this is a pretty good documentary—I'll discuss its weaknesses in a bit—and it's hard not to feel for these kids.
Fortunately, we were the only ones in the theater, because I was exasperated enough to—well, be more expressive than is appropriate for a public viewing. The kids, of course, cope with the bullying the best they can. They're naive, bitter, optimistic, depressed, playful—just trying for something that works.
But the adults are fucking clueless.
Swearing is appropriate here.
I went to good schools. Yet the one universal quality they all had was a near complete lack of ethics. We hear all the excuses I've heard adults give my whole life in this movie. Things like "let the kids sort it out for themselves" and "it takes two" and other clueless things.
If the purpose of schools is to prepare children for life as an adult, I could never figure out the logic behind letting lunch money be extorted, or turning a blind eye to physical assaults, or even the sort of coordinated social ostracization that happens so often.
I guess women (and sometimes men, too, though I think not as commonly) do the social ostracization thing even outside of school. But, of course, one can escape most social circumstances (unlike school, and prison).
But, last time I checked, robbery, burglary and assault were all crimes. The people who commit them go to jail. The people who defend themselves from it are heroic, and entitled to use deadly force to keep from becoming victims.
The adult perspective of "Well, it's just kid stuff. It's not that serious" imposes an adult viewpoint on a child who can't possibly adopt it. A child doesn't know if that other, bigger child with the mob of friends is going to kill him. And, as this movie shows, it's often very, very serious.
I'm a laissez-faire parent in a lot of ways. But, as I've stated before, I'm suspicious of techniques for handling children that reinforce adults' natural tendency to be lazy. And figuring out the ethics of a situation between kids can be very difficult indeed.
But that's not what we're dealing with here: There are tormentors. And there are the tormented. And neither are served.
Indeed, this is where this movie is the weakest: It alternates between a half-dozen kids, showing a nerdy boy and a black girl and a lesbian and friends of one who committed suicide and so on, and it's probably between 25%-40% more than we need to see. Even my kids, who are pretty unfamiliar with bullying, got the idea in the first hour.
What would've made this movie great is spending some time with the bullies. I can get why this would be challenging but you only get half a story. It's a tragedy with no villain, practically.
And not just bullies but everyone. Bullies are typically loners or small packs that pick on other loners or small packs. But they do so with the tacit (or overt) approval of the entire community.
What possible good comes out of an environment like that?
Yes, whether meaning to or not, this plays to my prejudices as a homeschooling parent. Because nobody seriously questions the academic superiority of homeschooling these days, the fallback is "But what about socialization?!" Yeah. Spare me. I've seen what passes for socialization in schools. It's basically prison with evening furloughs.
So, overall a good documentary, powered a lot by the subjects, but not the best documentary we've seen this year, whatever the Academy Awards say. The Boy and The Flower both liked, even though they had limited experience with bullying. (The Boy has always been immune and The Flower is very cognizant of the jerkiness of some of her peers. She finds it disappointing but isn't trapped enough to feel bullied.)
Sunday, November 11, 2012
The Expendables 2
The Expendables are back! And this time they're caaaaampy! Well, not really, but pretty much all the pretense of gritty seriousness—really, the low point of the first movie—is gone. Stallone turns directing duties over to Simon West this time and, while I'm not a fan, particularly (although I did sort of like Con Air and The General's Daughter), the occasional breaks in reality really work to make this movie feel like a classic '80s CarolCo or Golan-Globus production.
Mickey Rourke is out this time, and Jet Li only has a small role, while Willis and Schwarzenegger have larger roles, and Jean-Claude does some serious van Damage as the bag-eyed baddie. Also, Nan Yu plays the kung-fu chick.
We didn't need a chick at all last movie (except for a brief appearance by Charisma Carpenter, who is back again as the gal who can cheat on Jason Statham and get away with it), much less a kung-fu chick. I would've preferred Maggie Cheung or Michelle Yeoh, who are genuine action heroes from the '80s and '90s, but Nan Yu is fine.
The plot concerns...the plot is about...uh...the plot...
Lost my train of thought, there! I mostly remember explosions at this point, but as best I can figure JCvD is out to capture some old Soviet uranium to sell to the highest bidder, and it's up to the American heroes (also Brit, Swedish and Chinese) to stop him.
The plot allows them to visit an old Soviet fake American town and rescue some Albanian villagers (presumably the ones who don't have Liam Neeson's family hostage). And encounter the Lone Wolf himself, Chuck Norris.
The screenplay is chock-full of '80s action movie references, too. The scenes with Willis and Schwarzenegger are outright goofy. "Die Hard", "Terminator", "Total Recall", "Lone Wolf McQuade" and many other movies are referenced. The action, however, is most reminiscent of Schwarzenegger movies like Commando, where the good guys can spray bullets wildly in the air and there's always a bad guy's body stop them.
Entire battalions are wiped out in less than two hours.
This is exactly what it says on the label: Good-natured, mindless action. The Boy had liked the first one, but like this one a lot better. The Flower had never seen a movie of this ilk, but she is a big Chuck Norris fan, and found the whole thing agreeable and fun.
Mickey Rourke is out this time, and Jet Li only has a small role, while Willis and Schwarzenegger have larger roles, and Jean-Claude does some serious van Damage as the bag-eyed baddie. Also, Nan Yu plays the kung-fu chick.
We didn't need a chick at all last movie (except for a brief appearance by Charisma Carpenter, who is back again as the gal who can cheat on Jason Statham and get away with it), much less a kung-fu chick. I would've preferred Maggie Cheung or Michelle Yeoh, who are genuine action heroes from the '80s and '90s, but Nan Yu is fine.
The plot concerns...the plot is about...uh...the plot...
Lost my train of thought, there! I mostly remember explosions at this point, but as best I can figure JCvD is out to capture some old Soviet uranium to sell to the highest bidder, and it's up to the American heroes (also Brit, Swedish and Chinese) to stop him.
The plot allows them to visit an old Soviet fake American town and rescue some Albanian villagers (presumably the ones who don't have Liam Neeson's family hostage). And encounter the Lone Wolf himself, Chuck Norris.
The screenplay is chock-full of '80s action movie references, too. The scenes with Willis and Schwarzenegger are outright goofy. "Die Hard", "Terminator", "Total Recall", "Lone Wolf McQuade" and many other movies are referenced. The action, however, is most reminiscent of Schwarzenegger movies like Commando, where the good guys can spray bullets wildly in the air and there's always a bad guy's body stop them.
Entire battalions are wiped out in less than two hours.
This is exactly what it says on the label: Good-natured, mindless action. The Boy had liked the first one, but like this one a lot better. The Flower had never seen a movie of this ilk, but she is a big Chuck Norris fan, and found the whole thing agreeable and fun.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Seven Psychopaths
The team that brought you In Bruges and The Guard is back, doin' what they do best. (Basically, making you laugh at slightly awkward and/or totally inappropriate things.)
This time we've got Colin Farrell back, but no Brendan Gleason. Instead we have the incomparable Christopher Walken and the always amazing Sam Rockwell. Walken and Rockwell run a dog-napping scheme where Rockwell steals people's dogs and then Walken returns them to collect the reward. (This is a real thing, by the way.)
Farrell is a drunken Irish writer with writer's block. The movie is, of course, very aware that cliché which is the font of some humor and a significant plot point.
This is a typically fun flick—and you should know by now if this sort of thing is your sort of thing—where Rockwell ends up kidnapping a local mob boss's (Woody Harrelson) dog and he really loves his dog!
A fun part of the movie is that it points out who the psychopaths are as you go along. And there is a mix of real and fictitious psychopaths (Farrell being a writer, after all) that keep you guessing along the way. This ends up feeling a little like meta-humor, though it does so without being campy or cute (as, say, Joss Whedon).
I can't really do much but spoil it, so I'll keep this review short, and just say that it's as good as (and similar in feel to) the McDonagh's previous work.
The Boy was amused. He observed that it kept the humor going all the way through, whereas most comedies tend to have big starts and slow down quickly.
This time we've got Colin Farrell back, but no Brendan Gleason. Instead we have the incomparable Christopher Walken and the always amazing Sam Rockwell. Walken and Rockwell run a dog-napping scheme where Rockwell steals people's dogs and then Walken returns them to collect the reward. (This is a real thing, by the way.)
Farrell is a drunken Irish writer with writer's block. The movie is, of course, very aware that cliché which is the font of some humor and a significant plot point.
This is a typically fun flick—and you should know by now if this sort of thing is your sort of thing—where Rockwell ends up kidnapping a local mob boss's (Woody Harrelson) dog and he really loves his dog!
A fun part of the movie is that it points out who the psychopaths are as you go along. And there is a mix of real and fictitious psychopaths (Farrell being a writer, after all) that keep you guessing along the way. This ends up feeling a little like meta-humor, though it does so without being campy or cute (as, say, Joss Whedon).
I can't really do much but spoil it, so I'll keep this review short, and just say that it's as good as (and similar in feel to) the McDonagh's previous work.
The Boy was amused. He observed that it kept the humor going all the way through, whereas most comedies tend to have big starts and slow down quickly.
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Loopoopoopooper
Time travel is tricky. Not the mechanics; those are impossible. The logic. This was best expressed in "Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me":
"Oh, no, I've gone cross-eyed."
And so we have Looper, in which Joseph Gordon-Levitt is some kind of organized crime thug whose job is killing people sent back from the future for execution. When the mob wants to end the contract, they send the looper back for his younger self to kill, "closing the loop". Hence the title.
On the plus side, the older soon-to-be-dead guy comes back with a lotta gold strapped to his back, and the looper gets to live out the next thirty years, spending the gold and doin' whatever.
In the case of Gordon-Levitt, he turns into Bruce Willis in 30 years. This is preposterous because we know what Willis looked like 30 years and it's nothing like JGL. JGL wears a prosthetic chin and nose in this which is kinda cool, except we do know what JGL looks like now, and it's not like what he looks like in this movie.
And that's just one of many, many preposterous things in this film. For example, the whole business of sending people to the past to be executed, then using people to kill their older selves (an idea fraught with peril which would seem to have no value compared to the risk), and then the whole idea that killing yourself leads to your retirement, which 30 years later leads to the mob killing you.
I mean, what possible purpose could there be to killing loopers thirty years after they stopped working for you? They could pretty much do whatever damage they wanted in that time, so why are you antagonizing them?
The most surprising thing, though, is that the movie works. It's very '70s sci-fi, dystopic with JGL and Willis as anti-heroes—and they are dark, with some quality action and a lively script that's not overly predictable. Writer/director Rian Johnson, who directed one of my favorite films of 2009, The Brothers Bloom, is comfortable in his mildly futuristic, highly dystopic world.
JGL eerily mimics Willis' iconic facial expressions and acting style, which is cool. Willis is dark and disturbed and driven and desperate and some other d-words, to boot. The Americaphobic Emily Blunt is really good, as usual. Paul Dano (Being Flynn) has a critical, sorta weaselly role. Piper Perabo (The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle) plays a hooker/stripper with a heart of aluminum. Young Pierce Gagnon is believable as a very perceptive five(ish)-year-old.
Jeff Daniels rounds out the cast as the evil superboss from the future. He's got a beard in this, so you know he's bad. Or a college professor.
It's fun, but it is dark, cynical—though not nihilistic—and parts are definitely unpleasant. The world is unpleasant, and there are some very unpleasant moments. There's not much heroism in "Joe", the character played by both Willis and Gordon-Leavitt, which is critical to the story but probably a deal killer for some of our more sensitive readers.
The Boy liked it a lot, as did the Flower.
"Oh, no, I've gone cross-eyed."
And so we have Looper, in which Joseph Gordon-Levitt is some kind of organized crime thug whose job is killing people sent back from the future for execution. When the mob wants to end the contract, they send the looper back for his younger self to kill, "closing the loop". Hence the title.
On the plus side, the older soon-to-be-dead guy comes back with a lotta gold strapped to his back, and the looper gets to live out the next thirty years, spending the gold and doin' whatever.
In the case of Gordon-Levitt, he turns into Bruce Willis in 30 years. This is preposterous because we know what Willis looked like 30 years and it's nothing like JGL. JGL wears a prosthetic chin and nose in this which is kinda cool, except we do know what JGL looks like now, and it's not like what he looks like in this movie.
And that's just one of many, many preposterous things in this film. For example, the whole business of sending people to the past to be executed, then using people to kill their older selves (an idea fraught with peril which would seem to have no value compared to the risk), and then the whole idea that killing yourself leads to your retirement, which 30 years later leads to the mob killing you.
I mean, what possible purpose could there be to killing loopers thirty years after they stopped working for you? They could pretty much do whatever damage they wanted in that time, so why are you antagonizing them?
The most surprising thing, though, is that the movie works. It's very '70s sci-fi, dystopic with JGL and Willis as anti-heroes—and they are dark, with some quality action and a lively script that's not overly predictable. Writer/director Rian Johnson, who directed one of my favorite films of 2009, The Brothers Bloom, is comfortable in his mildly futuristic, highly dystopic world.
JGL eerily mimics Willis' iconic facial expressions and acting style, which is cool. Willis is dark and disturbed and driven and desperate and some other d-words, to boot. The Americaphobic Emily Blunt is really good, as usual. Paul Dano (Being Flynn) has a critical, sorta weaselly role. Piper Perabo (The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle) plays a hooker/stripper with a heart of aluminum. Young Pierce Gagnon is believable as a very perceptive five(ish)-year-old.
Jeff Daniels rounds out the cast as the evil superboss from the future. He's got a beard in this, so you know he's bad. Or a college professor.
It's fun, but it is dark, cynical—though not nihilistic—and parts are definitely unpleasant. The world is unpleasant, and there are some very unpleasant moments. There's not much heroism in "Joe", the character played by both Willis and Gordon-Leavitt, which is critical to the story but probably a deal killer for some of our more sensitive readers.
The Boy liked it a lot, as did the Flower.
Loving "Hating Breitbart"
Well, it was a 25 mile drive into the wilds of Burbank, but The Boy and I caught the documentary Hating Breitbart two weeks ago.
I haven't written about Andrew since his passing in March, finding it almost as difficult to articulate my thoughts about him as about my father, who died last year, though the difficulties stem from entirely different sources. I used to tweet things like "I think @AndrewBreitbart is Batman" partly because I thought he was wealthy (he wasn't) but mostly because he was heroic.
He would confront mobs of screaming lefty protestors. In one clip I saw him single-handedly drive off an entire crowd just by asking them questions. It wasn't just challenging them about who was paying them—they often were paid—but just asking them what their signs meant and to give an example of what they were protesting.
The documentary shows a classic moment of an anti-Glenn Beck mob, where Breitbart challenges him to back up his "Beck Lies" sign with a single example. The guy sputters about hundreds, and Breitbart continues to persist to ask for a single specific example, until the guy just says "I'm not going to fall into your trap."
Of course, it wasn't exactly him, so much as it was the cameras that faced down the mob, which was Breitbart's point. But he was critical to that happening, he was the face of all of us who are tired of the manipulations and machinations of the radical left.
So, I was "there" for all of these shenanigans (in the sense of following them in real time on social media) and there is very little that's actually new to me in this documentary. (Even the behind-the-scenes stuff reminds strongly of Breitbart on "Red Eye".) I loved it anyway, of course, as I loved Breitbart.
From a technical standpoint, it's a competent bit of documentary film-making. We get a little background and some interviews from pro- and anti-Breitbart people mixed in with the footage of him going to-and-from events, hanging out in hotels and so on.
The music by Chris Loesch does the job, mostly, although I thought the passage used during a scene of one of Andrew's more playful moments was unnecessarily mawkish. I mean, I totally get it because I never even met the guy and get choked up thinking about him, so I can't imagine how it must be for the Loesches. A minor quibble at best.
Without naming names, I can safely say that quite a few people are expert at taking flattering pictures for their avatars. Nobody looks very good in this. I mean, even when some seem to be okay looking, they usually don't look very healthy. Including Andrew, sadly. Part of this is probably due to the impromptu nature of the footage—but not all of it. These are not people with "healthy outdoor lifestyles".
Overall, it's less slick than D'Souza's 2016, but relatively fast-paced and of course more inspirational than terrifying (as D'Souza's film is meant to be). Ultimately, Bretibart's battle is the more important one.
A pivotal part of Frank Miller's seminal graphic novel The Dark Knight Returns involves Batman training other people to be, in essence, Batman. He's older, the corruption is out of hand, fighting crime is not a job one man can do any more (if it ever was).
Breitbarts hatred of the distortions and outright lies of mainstream media led him to exhort everyone to carry cameras with them, to record everything, to learn to be Batman, because Batman won't be around forever, at least according to Miller's book.
Of course, Batman being fictitious will always be around, unlike Breitbart. Which would seem to make it more incumbent on the rest of us to step up.
Yeah, I really can't give up on the whole "Breitbart is Batman" thing. Down to hoping he faked his own death to better fight evil, as The Batman has done so often. When the credits rolled, someone in the audience is front of me said "We got your back, brother."
The Boy, who hasn't really followed this stuff closely, found it well worth watching.
I haven't written about Andrew since his passing in March, finding it almost as difficult to articulate my thoughts about him as about my father, who died last year, though the difficulties stem from entirely different sources. I used to tweet things like "I think @AndrewBreitbart is Batman" partly because I thought he was wealthy (he wasn't) but mostly because he was heroic.
He would confront mobs of screaming lefty protestors. In one clip I saw him single-handedly drive off an entire crowd just by asking them questions. It wasn't just challenging them about who was paying them—they often were paid—but just asking them what their signs meant and to give an example of what they were protesting.
The documentary shows a classic moment of an anti-Glenn Beck mob, where Breitbart challenges him to back up his "Beck Lies" sign with a single example. The guy sputters about hundreds, and Breitbart continues to persist to ask for a single specific example, until the guy just says "I'm not going to fall into your trap."
Of course, it wasn't exactly him, so much as it was the cameras that faced down the mob, which was Breitbart's point. But he was critical to that happening, he was the face of all of us who are tired of the manipulations and machinations of the radical left.
So, I was "there" for all of these shenanigans (in the sense of following them in real time on social media) and there is very little that's actually new to me in this documentary. (Even the behind-the-scenes stuff reminds strongly of Breitbart on "Red Eye".) I loved it anyway, of course, as I loved Breitbart.
From a technical standpoint, it's a competent bit of documentary film-making. We get a little background and some interviews from pro- and anti-Breitbart people mixed in with the footage of him going to-and-from events, hanging out in hotels and so on.
The music by Chris Loesch does the job, mostly, although I thought the passage used during a scene of one of Andrew's more playful moments was unnecessarily mawkish. I mean, I totally get it because I never even met the guy and get choked up thinking about him, so I can't imagine how it must be for the Loesches. A minor quibble at best.
Without naming names, I can safely say that quite a few people are expert at taking flattering pictures for their avatars. Nobody looks very good in this. I mean, even when some seem to be okay looking, they usually don't look very healthy. Including Andrew, sadly. Part of this is probably due to the impromptu nature of the footage—but not all of it. These are not people with "healthy outdoor lifestyles".
Overall, it's less slick than D'Souza's 2016, but relatively fast-paced and of course more inspirational than terrifying (as D'Souza's film is meant to be). Ultimately, Bretibart's battle is the more important one.
A pivotal part of Frank Miller's seminal graphic novel The Dark Knight Returns involves Batman training other people to be, in essence, Batman. He's older, the corruption is out of hand, fighting crime is not a job one man can do any more (if it ever was).
Breitbarts hatred of the distortions and outright lies of mainstream media led him to exhort everyone to carry cameras with them, to record everything, to learn to be Batman, because Batman won't be around forever, at least according to Miller's book.
Of course, Batman being fictitious will always be around, unlike Breitbart. Which would seem to make it more incumbent on the rest of us to step up.
Yeah, I really can't give up on the whole "Breitbart is Batman" thing. Down to hoping he faked his own death to better fight evil, as The Batman has done so often. When the credits rolled, someone in the audience is front of me said "We got your back, brother."
The Boy, who hasn't really followed this stuff closely, found it well worth watching.
It's Like Poetry. It Rhymes.
The Boy and I watched the Plinkett reviews of the Star Wars prequels, where they kept showing a clip of Rick McCallum saying something like "It's like poetry. It rhymes." whenever the prequels lamely ripped off an idea from the first (better) movies. By the end, Plinkett is interjecting "SHUT UP!!" after saying it.
It's kinda funny.
But we had our own little rhyming poetry moment this week as signs went up proclaiming "If You See A Downed Power Line Don't Wrap It Around Your Testicles As A Party Joke!"
That wasn't precisely it. The message is something about staying away and calling 911. This reminds me of the reckless driving ads a few years ago. The Powers That Be have now decided people need to be warned away from power lines.
Which is probably true.
But what are the odds the people who most need to be warned can actually read?
It's kinda funny.
But we had our own little rhyming poetry moment this week as signs went up proclaiming "If You See A Downed Power Line Don't Wrap It Around Your Testicles As A Party Joke!"
That wasn't precisely it. The message is something about staying away and calling 911. This reminds me of the reckless driving ads a few years ago. The Powers That Be have now decided people need to be warned away from power lines.
Which is probably true.
But what are the odds the people who most need to be warned can actually read?
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Atlas Shrugged 2: The Shruggening
Is one obliged to see films that reinforce and promote their political and moral beliefs, no matter the quality of those films? I've seen that argument made a lot on conservative blogs. "Go see this, if you don't like what Hollywood puts out." I say "Nay."
"Nay," says I.
Though some of the best and most interesting movies of recent years have been conservative, Atlas Shrugged, Part I, was not really one of them. Though it was "interesting", I wouldn't really recommend it. But the Boy and I did go see Part 2.
Kind of interestingly in itself, we could both recommend it—even if you haven't seen the first one. Maybe especially if you haven't. The first interesting thing about it is: They replaced every single actor from the first movie. No one is back.
An older, warmer Dagny Taggert here, as Samantha Mathis (Princess Daisy from Super Mario Bros, also American Psycho) takes over for Taylor Schilling. An older, gravelier Jason Beghe replaces Grant Bowler as Henry Rearden. Esai Morales ("NYPD Blue") replaces Jsu Garcia (Along Came Polly). And on and on. These changes are largely fine. I missed Michael Lerner as the evil Wesley Mouch, but it's hard to complain too much about Paul McCrane (whom they had to drop a helicopter on to kill in "E.R.").
But if the acting is improved, the actors are greatly aided by the screenplay, which lacks most of the awkward speechifying of the first. If I had to guess, I'd say that Brian Patrick O'Toole's screenplay served as a starting point for this movie but producer John Agialoro is not credited on part 2, and two other writers (Duncan Scott and verteran TV writer Duke Sandefur) did some cutting out and punching up, as it were.
The awkward dialog is mostly gone, with only one kinda weird speech given at a party by Esai Morales. And tt's primarily weird because of the context (a party). The whole thing is generally less stilted, which gives rise to a few more intended laughs than the last.
Chris Bacon's music works better than Elia Cmiral's did.
The story still sits uncomfortably between current day and its 60+ year old roots. The whole ore/steel/train thing is more than a little dated, and the central dramatic plot point revolves around the shame brought on by a woman who has an adulterous affair (even though she's not married, and the guy, who is, is not really going to be affected by it).
I'm pretty sure today that sort of thing is empowering or something. (For women, anyway. You could even argue it would be reversed today.)
Overall, though, the whole thing works better. The Boy, who liked the first one, commented that this was a lot better. And, honestly, it's not like you can't figure it out without seeing the first one.
I can recommend this, if somewhat reservedly, but without reservation admit that I'll feel a whole lot better about seeing part three—if they make it, which they might not, because I think this movie has flopped even more than the first one.
"Nay," says I.
Though some of the best and most interesting movies of recent years have been conservative, Atlas Shrugged, Part I, was not really one of them. Though it was "interesting", I wouldn't really recommend it. But the Boy and I did go see Part 2.
Kind of interestingly in itself, we could both recommend it—even if you haven't seen the first one. Maybe especially if you haven't. The first interesting thing about it is: They replaced every single actor from the first movie. No one is back.
An older, warmer Dagny Taggert here, as Samantha Mathis (Princess Daisy from Super Mario Bros, also American Psycho) takes over for Taylor Schilling. An older, gravelier Jason Beghe replaces Grant Bowler as Henry Rearden. Esai Morales ("NYPD Blue") replaces Jsu Garcia (Along Came Polly). And on and on. These changes are largely fine. I missed Michael Lerner as the evil Wesley Mouch, but it's hard to complain too much about Paul McCrane (whom they had to drop a helicopter on to kill in "E.R.").
But if the acting is improved, the actors are greatly aided by the screenplay, which lacks most of the awkward speechifying of the first. If I had to guess, I'd say that Brian Patrick O'Toole's screenplay served as a starting point for this movie but producer John Agialoro is not credited on part 2, and two other writers (Duncan Scott and verteran TV writer Duke Sandefur) did some cutting out and punching up, as it were.
The awkward dialog is mostly gone, with only one kinda weird speech given at a party by Esai Morales. And tt's primarily weird because of the context (a party). The whole thing is generally less stilted, which gives rise to a few more intended laughs than the last.
Chris Bacon's music works better than Elia Cmiral's did.
The story still sits uncomfortably between current day and its 60+ year old roots. The whole ore/steel/train thing is more than a little dated, and the central dramatic plot point revolves around the shame brought on by a woman who has an adulterous affair (even though she's not married, and the guy, who is, is not really going to be affected by it).
I'm pretty sure today that sort of thing is empowering or something. (For women, anyway. You could even argue it would be reversed today.)
Overall, though, the whole thing works better. The Boy, who liked the first one, commented that this was a lot better. And, honestly, it's not like you can't figure it out without seeing the first one.
I can recommend this, if somewhat reservedly, but without reservation admit that I'll feel a whole lot better about seeing part three—if they make it, which they might not, because I think this movie has flopped even more than the first one.
Monday, October 22, 2012
Taken 2
Liam Neeson is at it again, kicking ass in the Gray Unknown Taken Titan Wars 2! Er, wait. That's not right. This is...uh...just plain ol' Taken 2, a follow-up to the goofy fun action flick from the Luc Besson film factory. Director Olivier Megaton—that's right, Megaton—takes over from Pierre Morel this time out and the results are pretty much exactly what you'd expect.
The Albanians are back, and they. Are. Pissed! Apparently, the bunches of people Liam killed in the first movie had families, and one of them is not a very nice man at all. And he decides to take his vengeance on the Mills family, conveniently vacationing in nearby Istanbul.
The twist in this case is that dad and mom (Famke Janssen) are captured first but the ever prepared Liam has a change to warn his daughter (Maggie Grace again) and give her tips on how to get them free. This is fun, if a little silly, as it involves chucking live grenades all over the city.
A constant, in the Taken universe, is the general lethargy and lack of alertness of the local gendarmerie.
It's fun. There's also a lengthy car chase. Lotsa punchy-shooty stuff. An overriding message of "violence begets violence—but what the hell can ya do?" that is de rigeur for the genre.
I'd say it's as good as the first one. Very similar, indeed, though this felt faster paced and perhaps a little less intimate.
Check it out. I mean, if you liked the first one. Or just Liam Neeson.
The Boy approved. (During the movie, he got some large, thuggish looking gentlemen (who had snuck in) evicted for using their cell phones. So we were both on full Liam exiting into the parking lot.)
The Albanians are back, and they. Are. Pissed! Apparently, the bunches of people Liam killed in the first movie had families, and one of them is not a very nice man at all. And he decides to take his vengeance on the Mills family, conveniently vacationing in nearby Istanbul.
The twist in this case is that dad and mom (Famke Janssen) are captured first but the ever prepared Liam has a change to warn his daughter (Maggie Grace again) and give her tips on how to get them free. This is fun, if a little silly, as it involves chucking live grenades all over the city.
A constant, in the Taken universe, is the general lethargy and lack of alertness of the local gendarmerie.
It's fun. There's also a lengthy car chase. Lotsa punchy-shooty stuff. An overriding message of "violence begets violence—but what the hell can ya do?" that is de rigeur for the genre.
I'd say it's as good as the first one. Very similar, indeed, though this felt faster paced and perhaps a little less intimate.
Check it out. I mean, if you liked the first one. Or just Liam Neeson.
The Boy approved. (During the movie, he got some large, thuggish looking gentlemen (who had snuck in) evicted for using their cell phones. So we were both on full Liam exiting into the parking lot.)
Friday, October 19, 2012
Searching For Sugar Man
So, back around 1970, labels were going nuts trying to find "New Bob Dylans". Or, as Loudon Wainwright III sings it, in his "Talking New Bob Dylan" song:
Out of commission in a motorcycle wreck
Holed up at Woodstock with a broken neck
The labels were lookin' for guys with guitars
Out to make millions lookin' for stars...
Wandering around ol' Detroit was a man known as Rodriguez who was spotted by a producer singing in a dive with his back to the audience. But who blew the producer away anyway.
Before you know it Rodrigquez has a record deal, and he records his revolutionary-ish folk music and puts out a record—that no one buys. Only slightly daunted, he puts out another record—that no one buys. In the midst of recording the third, he gets dropped by the label.
Sounding a lot like the ol' Loudo, actually, except for two things: 1) He sort of vanishes. I say "sort of" because he's not really known in the first place; 2) His records make their way over to South Africa, where he becomes a cultural icon; 3) He's such an icon, and a voice of a generation opposed to apartheid, that 25 years later, his older fans decide to look for him, all convinced that he died in some spectacular fashion on-stage (immolation, shooting himself in the head).
I won't tell you how it turns out (though the trailer spoils it, if you're paying close attention) but I will say it's a wonderful, charming story of a fascinating guy.
Did NOT care for the music.
Heh. No, it's not bad. It's very Dylan-esque, only moreso.
It's very well presented, with photographs and film footage and animations subtly woven in-between the interviews, and a funny thing happens: The pseudo-revolutionary music of that era, which is fairly insufferable at best and at worst toxic, makes a whole lot more sense and works a whole lot better when it's transplanted to a place with a genuine oppressive government.
Say, South Africa.
Living in a country that combined apartheid with sweeping control over basic freedoms of supposedly free whites, the revolutionary sound gains a little more relevance. It becomes a little less like armchair rabble-rousing (the most egregious being John Lennon's Some Time In New York City, which made limousine liberals in Manhattan say, "Dude!") and a little more like something—well, I as the white, middle-class South Africans put it, it was permission to rebel.
Not that the South African government didn't try to stop it. Meanwhile, American record producers are collecting royalties that seem to vanish. (Living the stereotype, those record producers are!)
The portrayal of Rodriguez himself shows a man of authenticity as well. His producers tell of meeting him on street corners and in diners—they did not know where he lived, or if he lived anywhere. Singing and songwriting being a low paying gig, if it pays at all, Rodriguez did construction work, too. He got involved, or tried to, in local government.
Anyway, it's a fun show. The Boy liked it, and he thought it only dragged a little, which is about as high a mark as he ever gives a documentary.
I found it enjoyable the whole way through, and actually better and better as it went along. There are some great and surprisingly fun aspects to it. Definitely worth checking out.
Out of commission in a motorcycle wreck
Holed up at Woodstock with a broken neck
The labels were lookin' for guys with guitars
Out to make millions lookin' for stars...
Wandering around ol' Detroit was a man known as Rodriguez who was spotted by a producer singing in a dive with his back to the audience. But who blew the producer away anyway.
Before you know it Rodrigquez has a record deal, and he records his revolutionary-ish folk music and puts out a record—that no one buys. Only slightly daunted, he puts out another record—that no one buys. In the midst of recording the third, he gets dropped by the label.
Sounding a lot like the ol' Loudo, actually, except for two things: 1) He sort of vanishes. I say "sort of" because he's not really known in the first place; 2) His records make their way over to South Africa, where he becomes a cultural icon; 3) He's such an icon, and a voice of a generation opposed to apartheid, that 25 years later, his older fans decide to look for him, all convinced that he died in some spectacular fashion on-stage (immolation, shooting himself in the head).
I won't tell you how it turns out (though the trailer spoils it, if you're paying close attention) but I will say it's a wonderful, charming story of a fascinating guy.
Did NOT care for the music.
Heh. No, it's not bad. It's very Dylan-esque, only moreso.
It's very well presented, with photographs and film footage and animations subtly woven in-between the interviews, and a funny thing happens: The pseudo-revolutionary music of that era, which is fairly insufferable at best and at worst toxic, makes a whole lot more sense and works a whole lot better when it's transplanted to a place with a genuine oppressive government.
Say, South Africa.
Living in a country that combined apartheid with sweeping control over basic freedoms of supposedly free whites, the revolutionary sound gains a little more relevance. It becomes a little less like armchair rabble-rousing (the most egregious being John Lennon's Some Time In New York City, which made limousine liberals in Manhattan say, "Dude!") and a little more like something—well, I as the white, middle-class South Africans put it, it was permission to rebel.
Not that the South African government didn't try to stop it. Meanwhile, American record producers are collecting royalties that seem to vanish. (Living the stereotype, those record producers are!)
The portrayal of Rodriguez himself shows a man of authenticity as well. His producers tell of meeting him on street corners and in diners—they did not know where he lived, or if he lived anywhere. Singing and songwriting being a low paying gig, if it pays at all, Rodriguez did construction work, too. He got involved, or tried to, in local government.
Anyway, it's a fun show. The Boy liked it, and he thought it only dragged a little, which is about as high a mark as he ever gives a documentary.
I found it enjoyable the whole way through, and actually better and better as it went along. There are some great and surprisingly fun aspects to it. Definitely worth checking out.
Argo Eff Yourself
Ben Affleck is at it again, directing and starring in yet another interesting and entertaining picture, and proving that not only does he actually have some skill at a director, he gets a better performance out of himself than other directors!
Almost five years ago, one of this blog's first movie reviews was Gone, Baby, Gone. The Town came out when I was working the three jobs and doing the weekend commute thing, so I don't think I have a review of it here, but it was also solid.
Argo is probably the best work he's done to date. And except for the opening narrative, which explains how the Iran hostage crisis was all our fault, and the closing voice-over from Jimmy Carter, it's actually a pretty pro-America movie.
The story, for those of you who weren't around in 1979, is centered around the Iranian hostage crisis, when terrorists stormed the American embassy and captured everyone and held them for 444 days. It probably didn't cost Carter the election—he was going down hard anyway—but it sure didn't help him to have Ted Koppel making his career and establishing "Nightline" as a serious news show by harping on it night after night.
Hell, Howard Hessman did a thing on it as his opening monologue on "Saturday Night Live".
Yes, children, there was a time when the leftist media would criticize lefty politcians.
I digress. Argo concerns six Americans who weren't in the embassy who found refuge in the Canadian Embassy, and the CIA planning to get them out. Ben Affleck plays Tony Mendez, master spy, whose specialty is extraction, and who quickly dismantles the proposed plans for getting the hapless Americans out of Iran.
The plan they hit on—and it helps to emphasize that this is based on a true story—is to pose as a Canadian film-making team in Iran to film a sci-fi epic called, you guessed it, Argo!
This may offend or shock some of you but, in fact, Mr. Affleck takes some liberties with the truth. And there have been a lot of Monday-morning film-producers bitching about this. For example, the Canadians were far more active and important than the film shows.
But this is the sort of thing film-makers do all the time to create focus. (Steven Soderbergh probably wouldn't have done that.) Similarly, the ending is a nail-biter race against the bad guys that never happened. But it's a great climax.
Affleck gave Mendez personal and profesisonal problems he doesn't seem to have had, which was probably gratuitous, but since it was his ass on the line, Affleck can be excused for making more time for ACTING. It's not the strongest part of the flick but it would be churlish to begrudge him that.
The acting is wonderful: John Goodman plays makeup artist emeritus John Chambers, whom he strongly resembles; Alan Arkin is an archetypal (fictional) producer past his prime; Bryan Cranston, Clea DuVall, Tate Donovan, and lots of other hard-working actors who always seem to turn in good work and enliven a movie.
The hostages have plenty of drama to act out, of course, with Goodman and Arkin providing comic relief—and great chemistry—as Hollywood old-timers. Bonus: An abundance of porn-staches and feathered hair.
Double-secret-super-bonus: Adrienne Barbeau as a sexy space queen!
Adding to the fun, if you were there, is all the 1979 references, even if slightly discombobulated. Like, "Battlestar Galactica" had been canceled by the time of the hostage crisis, but there are Cylons on the movie lot. I guess, arguably, they could have been from the short-lived "Galactica '80" series but mostly, I think they were there to emphasize the popularity of sci-fi post-Star Wars. (Said presence is strongly felt, of course.)
They even matched the color scheme to '70s. Not just interior design stuff, but the film itself had a bit of that ugly brown/yellow palette that was favored in the "realistic" movies of the day. (But without the ugliness, happily.) All that was missing was a score that was brass-heavy.
Anyway, overall, a thriller that manages to be tense and fun and warm. Quite an achievement really.
The Boy liked it a lot. The Flower liked it a lot. I liked it a lot.
I just wish they hadn't tried to pin this whole thing on the USA. The narrative glibly refers to how the US and Britain interfered with a legitimately elected rule who "nationalized" the country's oil wells, returning the oil to The People.
Seriously? "Nationalize" is just another word for "steal". And after being "nationalized" wealth ends up being squandered. Damn little of it gets to the people. And I can't help but think, from the spate of Iranian movies we've seen, that things haven't been so rosy for Iran even though it's been free of evil Brit and US control for over 30 years.
But, like I said, that only bugged me a little.
Almost five years ago, one of this blog's first movie reviews was Gone, Baby, Gone. The Town came out when I was working the three jobs and doing the weekend commute thing, so I don't think I have a review of it here, but it was also solid.
Argo is probably the best work he's done to date. And except for the opening narrative, which explains how the Iran hostage crisis was all our fault, and the closing voice-over from Jimmy Carter, it's actually a pretty pro-America movie.
The story, for those of you who weren't around in 1979, is centered around the Iranian hostage crisis, when terrorists stormed the American embassy and captured everyone and held them for 444 days. It probably didn't cost Carter the election—he was going down hard anyway—but it sure didn't help him to have Ted Koppel making his career and establishing "Nightline" as a serious news show by harping on it night after night.
Hell, Howard Hessman did a thing on it as his opening monologue on "Saturday Night Live".
Yes, children, there was a time when the leftist media would criticize lefty politcians.
I digress. Argo concerns six Americans who weren't in the embassy who found refuge in the Canadian Embassy, and the CIA planning to get them out. Ben Affleck plays Tony Mendez, master spy, whose specialty is extraction, and who quickly dismantles the proposed plans for getting the hapless Americans out of Iran.
The plan they hit on—and it helps to emphasize that this is based on a true story—is to pose as a Canadian film-making team in Iran to film a sci-fi epic called, you guessed it, Argo!
This may offend or shock some of you but, in fact, Mr. Affleck takes some liberties with the truth. And there have been a lot of Monday-morning film-producers bitching about this. For example, the Canadians were far more active and important than the film shows.
But this is the sort of thing film-makers do all the time to create focus. (Steven Soderbergh probably wouldn't have done that.) Similarly, the ending is a nail-biter race against the bad guys that never happened. But it's a great climax.
Affleck gave Mendez personal and profesisonal problems he doesn't seem to have had, which was probably gratuitous, but since it was his ass on the line, Affleck can be excused for making more time for ACTING. It's not the strongest part of the flick but it would be churlish to begrudge him that.
The acting is wonderful: John Goodman plays makeup artist emeritus John Chambers, whom he strongly resembles; Alan Arkin is an archetypal (fictional) producer past his prime; Bryan Cranston, Clea DuVall, Tate Donovan, and lots of other hard-working actors who always seem to turn in good work and enliven a movie.
The hostages have plenty of drama to act out, of course, with Goodman and Arkin providing comic relief—and great chemistry—as Hollywood old-timers. Bonus: An abundance of porn-staches and feathered hair.
Double-secret-super-bonus: Adrienne Barbeau as a sexy space queen!
Adding to the fun, if you were there, is all the 1979 references, even if slightly discombobulated. Like, "Battlestar Galactica" had been canceled by the time of the hostage crisis, but there are Cylons on the movie lot. I guess, arguably, they could have been from the short-lived "Galactica '80" series but mostly, I think they were there to emphasize the popularity of sci-fi post-Star Wars. (Said presence is strongly felt, of course.)
They even matched the color scheme to '70s. Not just interior design stuff, but the film itself had a bit of that ugly brown/yellow palette that was favored in the "realistic" movies of the day. (But without the ugliness, happily.) All that was missing was a score that was brass-heavy.
Anyway, overall, a thriller that manages to be tense and fun and warm. Quite an achievement really.
The Boy liked it a lot. The Flower liked it a lot. I liked it a lot.
I just wish they hadn't tried to pin this whole thing on the USA. The narrative glibly refers to how the US and Britain interfered with a legitimately elected rule who "nationalized" the country's oil wells, returning the oil to The People.
Seriously? "Nationalize" is just another word for "steal". And after being "nationalized" wealth ends up being squandered. Damn little of it gets to the people. And I can't help but think, from the spate of Iranian movies we've seen, that things haven't been so rosy for Iran even though it's been free of evil Brit and US control for over 30 years.
But, like I said, that only bugged me a little.
Monday, October 15, 2012
Lawrence of Arabia (50th Anniversary Restoration)
Is Lawrence of Arabia the greatest film by the greatest director who ever lived? No, probably not. But that occurred to me as I sat down to write this: As a technician, few directors get the kind of respect that David Lean did and Lawrence, arguably, next to Bridge On The River Kwai, may be his greatest film.
I had not seen it until the recent re-release. I was reluctant to go, as the movie clocks in at a startling four hours—brevity was not Mr. Lean's thing, man—but @soquoted encouraged me, and The Boy has a new movie-going philosophy that got him worked up about it. (What? What philosophy is that, you ask? "Balls to the wall." Yeah. Kids.)
I mix up Lawrence with The Man Who Would Be King so I really had no idea what to expect, other than sand—and lots of it. On the sand front, this movie does not disappoint. I've never seen so much sand. And I live on the beach. In a desert. (You wonder why I mix up those two movies? Because they were a common double-feature at revival houses when I was a kid, which I never went to, perhaps because of the six-hour total running time.)
Lawrence opens with the titular character riding a motorcycle in England, using shots that Sam Raimi liberally ripped off for his Evil Dead movies. So, that was kind of surprising. I expected to recognize influences on other films, just not that one. (It was a little like seeing a shower-head POV shot in an old Judy Garland musical.) Throughout the rest of the movie there were shots I was familiar with from a variety of other films, most notably Star Wars and the first Mummy movie.
My reaction to seeing this movie was "Hollywood should be ashamed. They could never make a movie like this now."
And they couldn't. Quite apart from being able to eschew the shaky-cam, to block the shots with casts of thousands, and to actually make a four hour movie interesting, this movie is way too politically incorrect.
Which is to say, it's probably pretty accurate. The Brits are stubborn, principled, but also using the Arabs, while the Arabs are tribal, greedy, but also without pretense. There's no kumbaya here.
Oh, the story is WWI North Africa, with the Brits trying to use the Arabs to defeat the Axis, but without really understanding the Arabs, and having no luck till a young intelligence officer is assigned to the area.
I barely recognized Peter O'Toole, so young and beautiful was he. I mean, I think the first movie I saw him in was The Stunt Man, and he was 47 by that point—and a pretty hard 47 at that. But his acting style was there, large and in-charge.
It's odd. Lawrence is both possessed of British reserve in some regards, and wild and emotional in others. I've heard that Lawrence's brother saw the film and didn't recognize O'Toole, and I believe that, but it hardly matters.
At turns manic to the point of megalomania and depressive to near suicide, O'Toole barrels through desert, not quite able to "go native", trying to bring British organization to Arab tribes, never really able to reconcile the two cultures.
Alec Guiness, Anthony Quinn, Jose Ferrer and a bunch of other non-Arabs play Arabs. Claude Rains, Arthur Kennedy and Jack Hawkins play white people. They're all good and memorable. And familiar, too!
It's a total sausage fest. There are some women in it, very briefly, and I don't think they have any lines.
Maurice Jarré's score is noteworthy for being simple but working for the whole four hours. If you're not humming it during the intermission, you're probably tone deaf.
Won seven (out of the ten) Oscars it was nominated for. Beat out The Longest Day, To Kill A Mockingbird and Mutiny on the Bounty (it's said Brando turned down Lawrence to play Christian) and The Music Man. Ouch. What a year.
The Boy loved it.
I had not seen it until the recent re-release. I was reluctant to go, as the movie clocks in at a startling four hours—brevity was not Mr. Lean's thing, man—but @soquoted encouraged me, and The Boy has a new movie-going philosophy that got him worked up about it. (What? What philosophy is that, you ask? "Balls to the wall." Yeah. Kids.)
I mix up Lawrence with The Man Who Would Be King so I really had no idea what to expect, other than sand—and lots of it. On the sand front, this movie does not disappoint. I've never seen so much sand. And I live on the beach. In a desert. (You wonder why I mix up those two movies? Because they were a common double-feature at revival houses when I was a kid, which I never went to, perhaps because of the six-hour total running time.)
Lawrence opens with the titular character riding a motorcycle in England, using shots that Sam Raimi liberally ripped off for his Evil Dead movies. So, that was kind of surprising. I expected to recognize influences on other films, just not that one. (It was a little like seeing a shower-head POV shot in an old Judy Garland musical.) Throughout the rest of the movie there were shots I was familiar with from a variety of other films, most notably Star Wars and the first Mummy movie.
My reaction to seeing this movie was "Hollywood should be ashamed. They could never make a movie like this now."
And they couldn't. Quite apart from being able to eschew the shaky-cam, to block the shots with casts of thousands, and to actually make a four hour movie interesting, this movie is way too politically incorrect.
Which is to say, it's probably pretty accurate. The Brits are stubborn, principled, but also using the Arabs, while the Arabs are tribal, greedy, but also without pretense. There's no kumbaya here.
Oh, the story is WWI North Africa, with the Brits trying to use the Arabs to defeat the Axis, but without really understanding the Arabs, and having no luck till a young intelligence officer is assigned to the area.
I barely recognized Peter O'Toole, so young and beautiful was he. I mean, I think the first movie I saw him in was The Stunt Man, and he was 47 by that point—and a pretty hard 47 at that. But his acting style was there, large and in-charge.
It's odd. Lawrence is both possessed of British reserve in some regards, and wild and emotional in others. I've heard that Lawrence's brother saw the film and didn't recognize O'Toole, and I believe that, but it hardly matters.
At turns manic to the point of megalomania and depressive to near suicide, O'Toole barrels through desert, not quite able to "go native", trying to bring British organization to Arab tribes, never really able to reconcile the two cultures.
Alec Guiness, Anthony Quinn, Jose Ferrer and a bunch of other non-Arabs play Arabs. Claude Rains, Arthur Kennedy and Jack Hawkins play white people. They're all good and memorable. And familiar, too!
It's a total sausage fest. There are some women in it, very briefly, and I don't think they have any lines.
Maurice Jarré's score is noteworthy for being simple but working for the whole four hours. If you're not humming it during the intermission, you're probably tone deaf.
Won seven (out of the ten) Oscars it was nominated for. Beat out The Longest Day, To Kill A Mockingbird and Mutiny on the Bounty (it's said Brando turned down Lawrence to play Christian) and The Music Man. Ouch. What a year.
The Boy loved it.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Won't Back Down
Okay, here's the thing: I hate education movies. Hate them. Haaaaaaaaaaate them. Even the good ones. Even the ones I like, I hate. They're always about the super-teacher who comes in and changes everyone's life, and now, at last, Everything's Gonna Be Okay!
And this is why I hate them.
For the entirety of my life, schools have been failing. No number of Jaime Escalantes or Joe Clarks or, uh, Robin Williamses or Michelle Pfeiffers—none of the dozens of movies or trillions of dollars has changed this.
They're a big lie.
So, I didn't have any real intention to see Won't Back Down because, besides being an education movie, the trailers feature Maggie Gyllenhall being really obnoxious in that I-am-woman-hear-me-roar kind of way. I mean, why torture yourself, right?
Well, The Flower wanted to see a movie. And the thing about Won't Back Down is that all the right people hate it. It's supposedly anti-union. Well, I hate unions even more than I hate education movies. What a dilemma, right?
As always in these cases, popcorn is the tie-breaker, and there was good popcorn to be had.
And?
Well, I didn't hate it. It isn't really about a super-teacher, which is one of the main things that irritates me. It's basically the story of a mom (Gyllenhall) and a teacher (Viola Davis) who set out to turn around a failing school in a poor area of Pittsburgh. They're fought at every step by the union, city hall and parental apathy.
Fortunately, Gyllenhall's most clunkily strident moments are in the trailer. And there are a few clunkers here.
But overall, this is a pretty solid movie. It's ridiculously naive, of course: The movie's climax necessarily revolves around the two heroines jumping through all the right hoops in time to get a hearing where they know the school council will use any excuse to reject their application. Of course, in real life, if they thought you were going to be trouble they'd approve you at the meeting, and find an excuse after everyone had gone home to reject you.
And then, of course, even if you managed to navigate the bureaucracy, the various lackeys of the bureaucracy (which you are forced to deal with) would sabotage you at every turn. Battles against The Machine are marathons, not sprints.
But sprints make better movies so that's what we get here. And that's good, because the underlying message is a positive one: That people can get off their own damn asses and get themselves a school that doesn't suck.
Now, keeping in mind that I hate unions, I didn't think this was particularly anti-union—said stance being the reason for the critic hate (32%/61% on Rotten Tomatoes), but union people are definitely villain in this. They resist, intimidate, smear, and use every dirty trick in the book to stop this from happening—obviously a complete fantasy, right? But at least half the teachers have to sign up in order for this to happen at all, and there's a definite message that the vast majority of teachers are in it to teach (rather than the money). And core union figures/bureaucrats also have to support this in order for it to happen.
You don't really know how it's going to play out, which provides the primary dramatic tension for this film. There are personal things between Gyllenhaal and her daughter and Viola Davis and her husband and son, but these are not very strong. I can't quite explain why, but when the personal sacrifices are more abstract, it's actually more effective than when they're played out on-screen.
And it is pretty devastating, even without much in the way of showing the worst of how these schools grind children down, because you can't help but notice how many barriers there are to children actually learning. There are just so many reasons a kid has to sit in a class with a teacher who's so bad, she's been removed from six other schools. Teachers need fair pay, after all, right?
This is all the logical endpoint of the "people are entitled to" thought process. Instead of a buyer and seller engaging in a contract they both agree on, an arbitrary third party gets to decide what the "buyer" gets and insulate the "seller" from the consequences thereof.
But I digress. Like I said: I didn't hate it. Neither did The Boy. We were generally positive toward it, perhaps because our expectations were low going in. The acting was pretty good: Primarily Gyllenhaal and Davis doing roles that seem well-worn for them, Holly Hunter, Rosie Perez (who seems to have taken some diction lessons) and youngster Emily Alyn Lind. Also some guys, but they're not really integral to the story.
It's already bombed, which isn't really fair, but that's showbiz for ya. I can't really rave about it but you could do a lot worse.
And this is why I hate them.
For the entirety of my life, schools have been failing. No number of Jaime Escalantes or Joe Clarks or, uh, Robin Williamses or Michelle Pfeiffers—none of the dozens of movies or trillions of dollars has changed this.
They're a big lie.
So, I didn't have any real intention to see Won't Back Down because, besides being an education movie, the trailers feature Maggie Gyllenhall being really obnoxious in that I-am-woman-hear-me-roar kind of way. I mean, why torture yourself, right?
Well, The Flower wanted to see a movie. And the thing about Won't Back Down is that all the right people hate it. It's supposedly anti-union. Well, I hate unions even more than I hate education movies. What a dilemma, right?
As always in these cases, popcorn is the tie-breaker, and there was good popcorn to be had.
And?
Well, I didn't hate it. It isn't really about a super-teacher, which is one of the main things that irritates me. It's basically the story of a mom (Gyllenhall) and a teacher (Viola Davis) who set out to turn around a failing school in a poor area of Pittsburgh. They're fought at every step by the union, city hall and parental apathy.
Fortunately, Gyllenhall's most clunkily strident moments are in the trailer. And there are a few clunkers here.
But overall, this is a pretty solid movie. It's ridiculously naive, of course: The movie's climax necessarily revolves around the two heroines jumping through all the right hoops in time to get a hearing where they know the school council will use any excuse to reject their application. Of course, in real life, if they thought you were going to be trouble they'd approve you at the meeting, and find an excuse after everyone had gone home to reject you.
And then, of course, even if you managed to navigate the bureaucracy, the various lackeys of the bureaucracy (which you are forced to deal with) would sabotage you at every turn. Battles against The Machine are marathons, not sprints.
But sprints make better movies so that's what we get here. And that's good, because the underlying message is a positive one: That people can get off their own damn asses and get themselves a school that doesn't suck.
Now, keeping in mind that I hate unions, I didn't think this was particularly anti-union—said stance being the reason for the critic hate (32%/61% on Rotten Tomatoes), but union people are definitely villain in this. They resist, intimidate, smear, and use every dirty trick in the book to stop this from happening—obviously a complete fantasy, right? But at least half the teachers have to sign up in order for this to happen at all, and there's a definite message that the vast majority of teachers are in it to teach (rather than the money). And core union figures/bureaucrats also have to support this in order for it to happen.
You don't really know how it's going to play out, which provides the primary dramatic tension for this film. There are personal things between Gyllenhaal and her daughter and Viola Davis and her husband and son, but these are not very strong. I can't quite explain why, but when the personal sacrifices are more abstract, it's actually more effective than when they're played out on-screen.
And it is pretty devastating, even without much in the way of showing the worst of how these schools grind children down, because you can't help but notice how many barriers there are to children actually learning. There are just so many reasons a kid has to sit in a class with a teacher who's so bad, she's been removed from six other schools. Teachers need fair pay, after all, right?
This is all the logical endpoint of the "people are entitled to" thought process. Instead of a buyer and seller engaging in a contract they both agree on, an arbitrary third party gets to decide what the "buyer" gets and insulate the "seller" from the consequences thereof.
But I digress. Like I said: I didn't hate it. Neither did The Boy. We were generally positive toward it, perhaps because our expectations were low going in. The acting was pretty good: Primarily Gyllenhaal and Davis doing roles that seem well-worn for them, Holly Hunter, Rosie Perez (who seems to have taken some diction lessons) and youngster Emily Alyn Lind. Also some guys, but they're not really integral to the story.
It's already bombed, which isn't really fair, but that's showbiz for ya. I can't really rave about it but you could do a lot worse.
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