In the Valley of Elah (Paul Haggis, 2007) - B
Oh boy could this have been worse. After watching Haggis bamboozle everyone from my neighbors to Roger Ebert with the screenwriting grad student's wet dream that was Crash, I panicked upon learning that, apparently having defeated racism, he was now taking on Iraq. And in some ways, he is indeed up to his old tricks -- most reasonable people will agree, I hope, that the stunt with the flag is basically unforgivable. That aside, though, this is a surprisingly strong effort, reminding us that the wounds of Iraq, like the wounds of Vietnam, are going to remain long after the next presidential election is a distant memory. The interesting thing is how immediate it is -- the basic thesis is "the Army fucks people up," but what makes the film powerful is everything we know about Iraq that goes more-or-less unsaid here. It's hard to imagine Elah working in 10 years, but it sure as hell works now. Tommy Lee Jones is remarkable, though is the idea here that the last generation's career officers simply became emotionally constipated OCD-ers while today's wind up charred and decapitated? Jesus.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Eastern Promises; Mr. Woodcock
Eastern Promises (David Cronenberg, 2007) - B+
Tricky -- Cronenberg's trademark doom-and-gloom portentousness keeps you waiting patiently for a Big Twist, a left turn like the one A History of Violence took in its third act. It never comes, and once Eastern Promises is over it kind of feels like it's slipped away from you. The key is to come to terms with its distinctly non-fantastic scope -- it's a mafia tale, opening a window into one particular (and probably fictional) seedy underbelly of London; a story of ritual and power, of good people navigating a hideous criminal underworld. But man, it's a Cronenberg movie through and through, with a disarmingly frank focus on sordid details, a direct, effects-heavy approach to gruesome violence that periodically disrupts the otherwise dignified mien, and one sequence that will be studied by fight scene acolytes until the very demise of film as an art form. Not as significant as History or the rest of the man's best work, but certainly suspenseful and disturbing -- the least we can expect from Cronenberg, I guess.
Mr. Woodcock (Craig Gillespie, 2007) - B-
Two ways this could have gone -- making Woodcock a real bastard and the film's villain, or making him basically misunderstood and the film about the protagonist's realization of same. I actually liked the choice the screenplay makes, though (*SPOILER*) it would have been far stronger had it grappled with the child abuse it plays for laughs -- everything everyone thought about Woodcock is wrong, it turns out, but, uh, he was still pretty nasty to those kids. I also wish the movie had stuck to its guns w/r/t the anti-self-help sentiment, instead of dismantling one stupid trope only to introduce another at the 11th hour. But it's pretty funny (the video crafted by Farley's friends to incriminate Woodcock is priceless), usually going just far enough to be satisfying; Billy Bob Thornton's the man, and Seann William Scott kind of is too, though his talents are underused here. Susan Sarandon's presence is a mystery.
Tricky -- Cronenberg's trademark doom-and-gloom portentousness keeps you waiting patiently for a Big Twist, a left turn like the one A History of Violence took in its third act. It never comes, and once Eastern Promises is over it kind of feels like it's slipped away from you. The key is to come to terms with its distinctly non-fantastic scope -- it's a mafia tale, opening a window into one particular (and probably fictional) seedy underbelly of London; a story of ritual and power, of good people navigating a hideous criminal underworld. But man, it's a Cronenberg movie through and through, with a disarmingly frank focus on sordid details, a direct, effects-heavy approach to gruesome violence that periodically disrupts the otherwise dignified mien, and one sequence that will be studied by fight scene acolytes until the very demise of film as an art form. Not as significant as History or the rest of the man's best work, but certainly suspenseful and disturbing -- the least we can expect from Cronenberg, I guess.
Mr. Woodcock (Craig Gillespie, 2007) - B-
Two ways this could have gone -- making Woodcock a real bastard and the film's villain, or making him basically misunderstood and the film about the protagonist's realization of same. I actually liked the choice the screenplay makes, though (*SPOILER*) it would have been far stronger had it grappled with the child abuse it plays for laughs -- everything everyone thought about Woodcock is wrong, it turns out, but, uh, he was still pretty nasty to those kids. I also wish the movie had stuck to its guns w/r/t the anti-self-help sentiment, instead of dismantling one stupid trope only to introduce another at the 11th hour. But it's pretty funny (the video crafted by Farley's friends to incriminate Woodcock is priceless), usually going just far enough to be satisfying; Billy Bob Thornton's the man, and Seann William Scott kind of is too, though his talents are underused here. Susan Sarandon's presence is a mystery.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Halloween; Death Sentence
Halloween (Rob Zombie, 2007) - C+
Zombie is improving, as I thought he might, and he could actually have a decent horror movie in him one day: he's at the very least a talented stylist with a relentlessly bleak, grungy worldview, something that serves him well in making bleak, grungy, depressing films. The back story he provides for Michael Myers here is compelling precisely for that reason; it's not actually that interesting, a pretty generic abusive childhood rattling an already-disturbed psyche, but it's so grandly unpleasant (mom's a stripper; stepdad is a filthy asshole; house is something out of The Devil's Rejects; school bullies could themselves be horror film villains) that I admit to a certain fascination. If Zombie can harness his flair for this sort of operatic nastiness, I thought, he might come up with something. When he moves on to the more generic slasher horror of this prequel/remake's second half, though, his instincts begin to fail him. In navigating the staple elements of the genre, he's depressingly literal-minded -- making Myers seven feet tall is a stupid, unimaginative move, putting the final nail in the coffin of the original film's conception of the character as a representation of pure evil. In staging the violence, he forgets that all great horror directors, even ones who traffic in gore, know when to look away. Halloween ultimately doesn't deliver the scares and suspense, which is probably a fatal flaw for any entry into this franchise. But Rob Zombie, in his third and "best" feature to date, continues to show some glimmers of promise.
Death Sentence (James Wan, 2007) - B
Now here's a movie, red-blooded, smart, alive in every frame. I am really starting to like this Wan guy; for as long as the underrated Saw franchise keeps up he'll be remembered as the one who got it off the ground, but it's his post-Saw work -- first the creepy, gleefully nasty horror flick Dead Silence and now this -- that makes me think he is going to develop into the sort of genre wizard we always need around. On one level, this is an ode to self-reliance -- the justice system is ineffectual, promising to put the gang-initiation murderer of the protag's son away for a few years, if that, and once the gang declares war, law enforcement is almost willfully unhelpful, basically telling poor Kevin Bacon to suck it up -- but at the same time, the distressing outcome of Bacon's antics and the mournful last fade-out suggest a morbid cautionary tale. Wan, in any event, just chomps down on this stuff, busting out elaborate long takes (the parking lot sequence is awesome) and giving every admittedly implausible twist unexpected dramatic weight. The movie's contrived and, on paper, a little silly, and Wan pulls off a tough balancing act taking on this material without winking, making the exaggerated, grotesque story seem to matter. Garrett Hedlund, cast against type in a role that Ben Foster would have eaten alive, plays a truly fearsome villain -- it's a big performance, one that teeters on the edge of absurdity but doesn't quite tip over, much like the film itself.
Zombie is improving, as I thought he might, and he could actually have a decent horror movie in him one day: he's at the very least a talented stylist with a relentlessly bleak, grungy worldview, something that serves him well in making bleak, grungy, depressing films. The back story he provides for Michael Myers here is compelling precisely for that reason; it's not actually that interesting, a pretty generic abusive childhood rattling an already-disturbed psyche, but it's so grandly unpleasant (mom's a stripper; stepdad is a filthy asshole; house is something out of The Devil's Rejects; school bullies could themselves be horror film villains) that I admit to a certain fascination. If Zombie can harness his flair for this sort of operatic nastiness, I thought, he might come up with something. When he moves on to the more generic slasher horror of this prequel/remake's second half, though, his instincts begin to fail him. In navigating the staple elements of the genre, he's depressingly literal-minded -- making Myers seven feet tall is a stupid, unimaginative move, putting the final nail in the coffin of the original film's conception of the character as a representation of pure evil. In staging the violence, he forgets that all great horror directors, even ones who traffic in gore, know when to look away. Halloween ultimately doesn't deliver the scares and suspense, which is probably a fatal flaw for any entry into this franchise. But Rob Zombie, in his third and "best" feature to date, continues to show some glimmers of promise.
Death Sentence (James Wan, 2007) - B
Now here's a movie, red-blooded, smart, alive in every frame. I am really starting to like this Wan guy; for as long as the underrated Saw franchise keeps up he'll be remembered as the one who got it off the ground, but it's his post-Saw work -- first the creepy, gleefully nasty horror flick Dead Silence and now this -- that makes me think he is going to develop into the sort of genre wizard we always need around. On one level, this is an ode to self-reliance -- the justice system is ineffectual, promising to put the gang-initiation murderer of the protag's son away for a few years, if that, and once the gang declares war, law enforcement is almost willfully unhelpful, basically telling poor Kevin Bacon to suck it up -- but at the same time, the distressing outcome of Bacon's antics and the mournful last fade-out suggest a morbid cautionary tale. Wan, in any event, just chomps down on this stuff, busting out elaborate long takes (the parking lot sequence is awesome) and giving every admittedly implausible twist unexpected dramatic weight. The movie's contrived and, on paper, a little silly, and Wan pulls off a tough balancing act taking on this material without winking, making the exaggerated, grotesque story seem to matter. Garrett Hedlund, cast against type in a role that Ben Foster would have eaten alive, plays a truly fearsome villain -- it's a big performance, one that teeters on the edge of absurdity but doesn't quite tip over, much like the film itself.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Them; Shoot 'Em Up
Them (David Moreau & Xavier Palud, 2007) - B
Really liked the classical horror film that comprises the lion's share of this merciless 77-minute jolt -- Them is a splendid title, but a more accurate one might have been Something, since for much of the film that's as much information as we have about the assailants who pursue the lovely French couple in their rural Romanian home. It's a minor masterpiece of atmosphere, timing, and shot selection; Palud and Moreau seemed to know just what would creep the hell out of me and when -- a fleeting glimpse of a hooded figure as a door slams shut, a play of light and shadow on a wall, the sudden appearance of a well-lit tunnel. The identity of the unseen villains doesn't really matter in the sense that the film's pleasures are largely formal anyhow, but of course it does "matter" -- though lots of people extoll "ambiguity," I don't think too many of them would really be content with total abstraction. So there is a reveal, and on its own it's actually quite good: an unexpected, chilling image followed by expository title cards that actually work. I'm just not sure I like this particular ending on this particular horror film, because the resulting effect is abrupt, heavily ironic demystification. To the extent that Them's what-the-hell trappings get our imaginations working, the ending is a letdown, raising the question of why the film played it so close to the vest to begin with. The only possible response is "for fun," which I guess is fair enough. N.B. Rating was a tough call -- it's just this side of the B/B+ borderline.
Shoot 'Em Up (Michael Davis, 2007) - B
"Violence is one of the most fun things to watch," says Paul Giamatti's crazy-ass villain -- and Oh My God, I thought! That's what I've been saying for years! By Jebus there's plenty of it here, non-stop, stylish, and exaggerated to a degree that transcends ludicrous and approaches unfathomable. A newborn's umbilical cord is shot off; Giamatti madly charges the camera with a knife; when the protagonists are interrupted mid-coitus, they dispatch the gun-wielding baddies and complete the act, topping off with the line: "Talk about shooting your load." It's hilarious, transgressive, offensive, and awesome. I also adored the subtext: tough guys don't need guns (the hero doesn't have one of his own), but they don't need gun control laws either, fuck you very much. A trifle, ultimately, but trifles like this don't come along often.
Really liked the classical horror film that comprises the lion's share of this merciless 77-minute jolt -- Them is a splendid title, but a more accurate one might have been Something, since for much of the film that's as much information as we have about the assailants who pursue the lovely French couple in their rural Romanian home. It's a minor masterpiece of atmosphere, timing, and shot selection; Palud and Moreau seemed to know just what would creep the hell out of me and when -- a fleeting glimpse of a hooded figure as a door slams shut, a play of light and shadow on a wall, the sudden appearance of a well-lit tunnel. The identity of the unseen villains doesn't really matter in the sense that the film's pleasures are largely formal anyhow, but of course it does "matter" -- though lots of people extoll "ambiguity," I don't think too many of them would really be content with total abstraction. So there is a reveal, and on its own it's actually quite good: an unexpected, chilling image followed by expository title cards that actually work. I'm just not sure I like this particular ending on this particular horror film, because the resulting effect is abrupt, heavily ironic demystification. To the extent that Them's what-the-hell trappings get our imaginations working, the ending is a letdown, raising the question of why the film played it so close to the vest to begin with. The only possible response is "for fun," which I guess is fair enough. N.B. Rating was a tough call -- it's just this side of the B/B+ borderline.
Shoot 'Em Up (Michael Davis, 2007) - B
"Violence is one of the most fun things to watch," says Paul Giamatti's crazy-ass villain -- and Oh My God, I thought! That's what I've been saying for years! By Jebus there's plenty of it here, non-stop, stylish, and exaggerated to a degree that transcends ludicrous and approaches unfathomable. A newborn's umbilical cord is shot off; Giamatti madly charges the camera with a knife; when the protagonists are interrupted mid-coitus, they dispatch the gun-wielding baddies and complete the act, topping off with the line: "Talk about shooting your load." It's hilarious, transgressive, offensive, and awesome. I also adored the subtext: tough guys don't need guns (the hero doesn't have one of his own), but they don't need gun control laws either, fuck you very much. A trifle, ultimately, but trifles like this don't come along often.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
End-of-Summer Poll
Meme going around...
Summer wrap up poll time. Give me your choice for...
1) Best movie - Sunshine
2) Worst movie - Captivity
3) Biggest creative winner - Stardust for the summer's highest difficulty:success ratio. Superbad for Jonah Hill and Michael Cera, the most inspired pairing since Lemmon and Matthau.
4) Biggest creative loser - Talk to Me for neutering Kasi Lemmons' talents.
5) Most overrated - Transformers. Yes, I know it wasn't that well-liked. The fact that it was tolerated is enough.
6) Most underrated - Spider-Man 3. Raimi took a beating for trying something new and interesting. Ang Lee endured the same with Hulk. Stay tuned for Renny Harlin remake. I'll also mention George Ratliff's Joshua here.
7) Biggest surprise - The awesomeness of Live Free or Die Hard.
8) Favorite scene - Opening assault in 28 Weeks Later.
9) Breakout star - Gotta be Seth Rogen. Fingers crossed for Michael Cera too.
10) Most unfortunate success - Transformers. Why do people keep feeding the Bay?
Summer wrap up poll time. Give me your choice for...
1) Best movie - Sunshine
2) Worst movie - Captivity
3) Biggest creative winner - Stardust for the summer's highest difficulty:success ratio. Superbad for Jonah Hill and Michael Cera, the most inspired pairing since Lemmon and Matthau.
4) Biggest creative loser - Talk to Me for neutering Kasi Lemmons' talents.
5) Most overrated - Transformers. Yes, I know it wasn't that well-liked. The fact that it was tolerated is enough.
6) Most underrated - Spider-Man 3. Raimi took a beating for trying something new and interesting. Ang Lee endured the same with Hulk. Stay tuned for Renny Harlin remake. I'll also mention George Ratliff's Joshua here.
7) Biggest surprise - The awesomeness of Live Free or Die Hard.
8) Favorite scene - Opening assault in 28 Weeks Later.
9) Breakout star - Gotta be Seth Rogen. Fingers crossed for Michael Cera too.
10) Most unfortunate success - Transformers. Why do people keep feeding the Bay?
The Invasion
The Invasion (Oliver Hirschbiegel, 2007) - B-
Bizarro, somewhat gutsy subtext -- we should resign ourselves to genocide, war and famine because it's an inescapable part of the human condition -- makes this kind of a downer, if you ask me, though it works for a while. At its best when depicting the invasion itself; the body snatchers' gradual, inevitable takeover is pretty creepy, most effectively so in the frightened faces and voices of people realizing that something is going horribly wrong -- Veronica "My Husband is Not My Husband" Cartwright is perhaps the best thing in the film. Inexplicably gets hung up on the medi-babble about the mechanics of the alien virus, or what not -- who gives a shit? I wonder if this too was a Wachowski addition, or just that damn car chase? -- and the ending really is a shame, but if nothing else it does take advantage of its premise, still killer after all these years. Hirschbiegel's original cut must have been better.
Bizarro, somewhat gutsy subtext -- we should resign ourselves to genocide, war and famine because it's an inescapable part of the human condition -- makes this kind of a downer, if you ask me, though it works for a while. At its best when depicting the invasion itself; the body snatchers' gradual, inevitable takeover is pretty creepy, most effectively so in the frightened faces and voices of people realizing that something is going horribly wrong -- Veronica "My Husband is Not My Husband" Cartwright is perhaps the best thing in the film. Inexplicably gets hung up on the medi-babble about the mechanics of the alien virus, or what not -- who gives a shit? I wonder if this too was a Wachowski addition, or just that damn car chase? -- and the ending really is a shame, but if nothing else it does take advantage of its premise, still killer after all these years. Hirschbiegel's original cut must have been better.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Becoming Jane
Becoming Jane (Julian Jarrold, 2007) - C
Too long, and too wishy-washy -- if you're going to invent an elaborate backstory for Jane Austen, then at least take some sort of stand, goddammit -- for all its feints toward finding poignancy in Austen's youth, the movie winds up neatly packaging everything and tying a bow around the result. In any event, giving her a passionate, if ultimately unfulfilled, youthful romance destroys the fundamental sadness of her story, which is that she embarked on a career writing about matters of the heart in which she herself had little involvement (the man portrayed here as her love interest apparently received two fleeting mentions in Austen's letters to her sister). The only meaningful path left to the film -- the notion that Austen loved, lost, and retreated to the worlds she created in her novels -- is equivocated into oblivion by the screenplay's compulsion to tie up every end, loose or not, and drag the characters kicking and screaming to strained, illogical happy endings. Some superficial pleasures remain, among them the intractable presence of Maggie Smith as a haughty noblewoman, but Ann Hathaway is tragically a lightweight among the accomplished cast, and the movie is too pointlessly glum and poker-faced to be chick-lit-style fun. Austen wouldn't have approved.
Too long, and too wishy-washy -- if you're going to invent an elaborate backstory for Jane Austen, then at least take some sort of stand, goddammit -- for all its feints toward finding poignancy in Austen's youth, the movie winds up neatly packaging everything and tying a bow around the result. In any event, giving her a passionate, if ultimately unfulfilled, youthful romance destroys the fundamental sadness of her story, which is that she embarked on a career writing about matters of the heart in which she herself had little involvement (the man portrayed here as her love interest apparently received two fleeting mentions in Austen's letters to her sister). The only meaningful path left to the film -- the notion that Austen loved, lost, and retreated to the worlds she created in her novels -- is equivocated into oblivion by the screenplay's compulsion to tie up every end, loose or not, and drag the characters kicking and screaming to strained, illogical happy endings. Some superficial pleasures remain, among them the intractable presence of Maggie Smith as a haughty noblewoman, but Ann Hathaway is tragically a lightweight among the accomplished cast, and the movie is too pointlessly glum and poker-faced to be chick-lit-style fun. Austen wouldn't have approved.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
I Now Pronounce You
I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry (Dennis Dugan, 2007) - C
Still shitty, but not the offensive stereotype-giggle-fest I feared -- or rather it is, but kind of in a good way. Wha? Well, it occurred to me that it might better to turn this stuff into fodder for a raunchy, unabashedly mainstream Adam Sandler comedy than to ceaselessly treat it with PC kid gloves. And Chuck & Larry is doing it ("it" being rampant comic displays of homophobia and soap-dropping gags) out of love, if you get me -- at various points I questioned the filmmakers' IQ and choice of profession, but never their good intentions. So in this context, the PG-13 puerility ("penis department" instead of "pension department") and weird gay panic non sequiturs (Adam Sandler's faux-shocked response to the notion that people out there will fake homosexual relationships to get government benefits: "It makes me so sad... and gay... to hear about people like that") seem appropriate and almost charming. What's not remotely charming is the film's two-hour length, the ridiculous "I am Spartacus" climax, the cloying, dishonest denoument, the neverending Rob Schneider appearances, and general confusion about what constitutes comedy (i.e. Allen Covert leaping about dressed as a gay butterfly = not comedy; please make a note of it). One of these days someone will have the guts to cut one of these movies to a tight, funny 85 minutes and we might have something.
Still shitty, but not the offensive stereotype-giggle-fest I feared -- or rather it is, but kind of in a good way. Wha? Well, it occurred to me that it might better to turn this stuff into fodder for a raunchy, unabashedly mainstream Adam Sandler comedy than to ceaselessly treat it with PC kid gloves. And Chuck & Larry is doing it ("it" being rampant comic displays of homophobia and soap-dropping gags) out of love, if you get me -- at various points I questioned the filmmakers' IQ and choice of profession, but never their good intentions. So in this context, the PG-13 puerility ("penis department" instead of "pension department") and weird gay panic non sequiturs (Adam Sandler's faux-shocked response to the notion that people out there will fake homosexual relationships to get government benefits: "It makes me so sad... and gay... to hear about people like that") seem appropriate and almost charming. What's not remotely charming is the film's two-hour length, the ridiculous "I am Spartacus" climax, the cloying, dishonest denoument, the neverending Rob Schneider appearances, and general confusion about what constitutes comedy (i.e. Allen Covert leaping about dressed as a gay butterfly = not comedy; please make a note of it). One of these days someone will have the guts to cut one of these movies to a tight, funny 85 minutes and we might have something.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Simpsons Movie; Captivity
The Simpsons Movie (David Silverman, 2007) - B+
Funny how after all these years, and the recent incessant complaints about The Simpsons having "jumped the shark," the long-awaited film opens with a huge splash, and droves of critics and filmgoers return to fawning over Matt Groening's now-timeless satire masterpiece. Truth is, the show has never lost its edge, and the Movie s less a "return to form" than a particularly polished iteration of its brilliance. The material does lose something in its translation to the big screen, as gags that would have been showstoppers in tv viewing sort of float by serenely in the larger context. But the show's notorious arsenal of humor - social satire, pop culture jabs, general weirdness (the riotous opening sequence awesomely embodying all three) -- s in fine shape, the laughs coming furiously and some of the jokes immediately attaining classic Simpsons status. The show has been the best thing on tv for 18 years, or at least since the demise of Twin Peaks; it makes a certain sense that its cinematic incarnation is better than most of what's in theaters this summer.
Captivity (Roland Joffe, 2007) - F
I hate to say it, but this lends credibility to certain pundits' otherwise retarded tirades against what they call the torture porn genre. Not that the movie is all that graphic, or all that horrifying -- in fact it fakes us out so many times that we quickly learn to disbelieve what we see, no matter how gruesome. It's just that it's so schlocky, dumb and nonsensical that prevailing sight-unseen impression of films in this sub-genre* (because of course these people are too outraged to actually watch them) consisting of "just people being tortured" might as well be true. The twisted, baroque storytelling of the Saws and the sly satire of the Hostels is nowhere to be found here. Not sure what the deal is with the suggestion that Cuthbert's character is the "girl with no heart," but if the notion is one of conquest -- the big reveal has the villains wind up talking about their predictions about how long it would take for her to submit to "hero sex" -- then I have only two things to say: 1) eew; and 2) the accusations of moral depravity might actually be on point for once.
*I feel like I'm surrendering just by calling it a "sub-genre," since really they're just horror films like any other, but it's hard to ignore trends.
Funny how after all these years, and the recent incessant complaints about The Simpsons having "jumped the shark," the long-awaited film opens with a huge splash, and droves of critics and filmgoers return to fawning over Matt Groening's now-timeless satire masterpiece. Truth is, the show has never lost its edge, and the Movie s less a "return to form" than a particularly polished iteration of its brilliance. The material does lose something in its translation to the big screen, as gags that would have been showstoppers in tv viewing sort of float by serenely in the larger context. But the show's notorious arsenal of humor - social satire, pop culture jabs, general weirdness (the riotous opening sequence awesomely embodying all three) -- s in fine shape, the laughs coming furiously and some of the jokes immediately attaining classic Simpsons status. The show has been the best thing on tv for 18 years, or at least since the demise of Twin Peaks; it makes a certain sense that its cinematic incarnation is better than most of what's in theaters this summer.
Captivity (Roland Joffe, 2007) - F
I hate to say it, but this lends credibility to certain pundits' otherwise retarded tirades against what they call the torture porn genre. Not that the movie is all that graphic, or all that horrifying -- in fact it fakes us out so many times that we quickly learn to disbelieve what we see, no matter how gruesome. It's just that it's so schlocky, dumb and nonsensical that prevailing sight-unseen impression of films in this sub-genre* (because of course these people are too outraged to actually watch them) consisting of "just people being tortured" might as well be true. The twisted, baroque storytelling of the Saws and the sly satire of the Hostels is nowhere to be found here. Not sure what the deal is with the suggestion that Cuthbert's character is the "girl with no heart," but if the notion is one of conquest -- the big reveal has the villains wind up talking about their predictions about how long it would take for her to submit to "hero sex" -- then I have only two things to say: 1) eew; and 2) the accusations of moral depravity might actually be on point for once.
*I feel like I'm surrendering just by calling it a "sub-genre," since really they're just horror films like any other, but it's hard to ignore trends.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Evening
Evening (Lajos Koltai, 2007) - B
Would be so much stronger if it weren't so fucking aggressive, determined to squeeze tears from your eyes if it kills it, you, and the rest of the audience. Seriously: more small-scale character stuff and less Vanessa Redgrave chasing butterflies; I often complain about movies that consist of non-stop heart-to-hearts, but here the heart-to-hearts work, and there's a scene mid-film between Claire Danes and Hugh Dancy that's just about unmatched this year in terms of force. But while I'm generally a fan of unrestrained dramatics, much of the film veers toward the maudlin: any character who confesses his undying love only to be rebuffed has to die in short order, of course, but Evening actually fakes us out once before dropping the hammer on the poor guy. The last half hour loses all sense of decorum, basically cudgeling us with scene after scene of emotional fever pitch -- some people die, others deliver speeches, still others triumphantly announce pregnancies. Even there, though, a few moments make it through: two sisters gripping hands, an old friend at the deathbed, the touching, understated final shot. Or maybe I just succumbed to the film's merciless beating. Evening's constant battle stance leaves it an occasionally effective series of emotional beats rather than a story.
Would be so much stronger if it weren't so fucking aggressive, determined to squeeze tears from your eyes if it kills it, you, and the rest of the audience. Seriously: more small-scale character stuff and less Vanessa Redgrave chasing butterflies; I often complain about movies that consist of non-stop heart-to-hearts, but here the heart-to-hearts work, and there's a scene mid-film between Claire Danes and Hugh Dancy that's just about unmatched this year in terms of force. But while I'm generally a fan of unrestrained dramatics, much of the film veers toward the maudlin: any character who confesses his undying love only to be rebuffed has to die in short order, of course, but Evening actually fakes us out once before dropping the hammer on the poor guy. The last half hour loses all sense of decorum, basically cudgeling us with scene after scene of emotional fever pitch -- some people die, others deliver speeches, still others triumphantly announce pregnancies. Even there, though, a few moments make it through: two sisters gripping hands, an old friend at the deathbed, the touching, understated final shot. Or maybe I just succumbed to the film's merciless beating. Evening's constant battle stance leaves it an occasionally effective series of emotional beats rather than a story.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Fido
Fido (Andrew Currie, 2007) - A-
Words can't express how grateful I am for this top-notch, hilarious satire right about now. A killer premise (humans won the zombie war and enslaved the zombies, who are now upscale commodities used mostly for house chores), an affinity for delightful non-sequiturs ("My nose was bleeding." "How did it get on your zombie?" "I wiped it there."), and a diabolical skewering of consumerism and corporate hegemony (only a licensed, expensive ZombieCon funeral can keep your corpse from coming back to life) combine to make what might be the best film of the summer. It could have rested on the laurels of its gimmick, but it goes all out instead, and doesn't skimp on the gore either. Like most great things, it's Canadian, and has Dylan Baker in it. I don't think it's doing too well, so run, don't walk, etc.
Words can't express how grateful I am for this top-notch, hilarious satire right about now. A killer premise (humans won the zombie war and enslaved the zombies, who are now upscale commodities used mostly for house chores), an affinity for delightful non-sequiturs ("My nose was bleeding." "How did it get on your zombie?" "I wiped it there."), and a diabolical skewering of consumerism and corporate hegemony (only a licensed, expensive ZombieCon funeral can keep your corpse from coming back to life) combine to make what might be the best film of the summer. It could have rested on the laurels of its gimmick, but it goes all out instead, and doesn't skimp on the gore either. Like most great things, it's Canadian, and has Dylan Baker in it. I don't think it's doing too well, so run, don't walk, etc.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Fantastic 4
Fantastic 4: Rise of the Silver Surfer (Tim Story, 2007) - C
I cut the first one a lot of slack, but there are just too many things working against the sequel for it to come out ahead: Jessica Alba's persistent and frankly kind of impressive efforts to ruin everything she touches; the unimaginative depiction of the planet-eating villain Galactus (he's a cloud); the half-assed, techno-babbly story construction; and that's just to name a few. They do all of nothing with the near-omnipotent Silver Surfer character, a Laurence Fishburne-voiced special effect who shows up to menace the Human Torch before disappearing for a while and resurfacing to be summarily disarmed and tied to a table. And while the jokey, light-hearted tone lent the first film a goofy likability, a repeat only serves to highlight the shoddiness of this lumbering mess, which is shockingly unwieldy at only an hour and a half. Really, none of what fans had hoped would come to fruition here -- good villains, better action, less wanton stupidity -- in fact sees the light of day. Watching it made crystal-clear why the Spider-Man franchise, for all the problems of the third film, remains awesome: Sam Raimi effortlessly handles the sort of unabashed earnestness that Tim Story makes corny and cringe-worthy here. Michael Chiklis and Chris Evans are still strong links, but this franchise needs to be put out of its misery.
I cut the first one a lot of slack, but there are just too many things working against the sequel for it to come out ahead: Jessica Alba's persistent and frankly kind of impressive efforts to ruin everything she touches; the unimaginative depiction of the planet-eating villain Galactus (he's a cloud); the half-assed, techno-babbly story construction; and that's just to name a few. They do all of nothing with the near-omnipotent Silver Surfer character, a Laurence Fishburne-voiced special effect who shows up to menace the Human Torch before disappearing for a while and resurfacing to be summarily disarmed and tied to a table. And while the jokey, light-hearted tone lent the first film a goofy likability, a repeat only serves to highlight the shoddiness of this lumbering mess, which is shockingly unwieldy at only an hour and a half. Really, none of what fans had hoped would come to fruition here -- good villains, better action, less wanton stupidity -- in fact sees the light of day. Watching it made crystal-clear why the Spider-Man franchise, for all the problems of the third film, remains awesome: Sam Raimi effortlessly handles the sort of unabashed earnestness that Tim Story makes corny and cringe-worthy here. Michael Chiklis and Chris Evans are still strong links, but this franchise needs to be put out of its misery.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Steel City
Steel City (Brian Jun, 2007) - B+
In a season with distressingly few movies to love, I almost latched on to this one -- a straightforward, quietly touching dispatch from the sort of blue-collar universe we so rarely see in the movies (and no, Blue Collar Comedy Tour doesn't count). Fittingly, it takes a realist moral posture: the storyline involves a father (John Heard) who voluntarily goes to jail for his son's (Tom Guiry) deadly accident, but the movie doesn't lecture about abstract notions of responsibility; the focus instead is on the father's guilt about his relationship with the son, and the possibility that the latter could actually grow to be happy. Brian Jun's eminently small screenplay is filled with the sort of genuine, unpretentious emotion I've been missing at the movies lately. Sadly the story gets sidetracked in the third act, spending unnecessary time on the dad's issues, and for a while Steel City grows ponderous and a little boring. And while Heard is fine, Tom Guiry's steady performance could easily have carried the film.
In a season with distressingly few movies to love, I almost latched on to this one -- a straightforward, quietly touching dispatch from the sort of blue-collar universe we so rarely see in the movies (and no, Blue Collar Comedy Tour doesn't count). Fittingly, it takes a realist moral posture: the storyline involves a father (John Heard) who voluntarily goes to jail for his son's (Tom Guiry) deadly accident, but the movie doesn't lecture about abstract notions of responsibility; the focus instead is on the father's guilt about his relationship with the son, and the possibility that the latter could actually grow to be happy. Brian Jun's eminently small screenplay is filled with the sort of genuine, unpretentious emotion I've been missing at the movies lately. Sadly the story gets sidetracked in the third act, spending unnecessary time on the dad's issues, and for a while Steel City grows ponderous and a little boring. And while Heard is fine, Tom Guiry's steady performance could easily have carried the film.
Saturday, June 2, 2007
Bug
Bug (William Friedkin, 2007) - B
Plays better in my mind's eye than on the screen, where it's a bit too heightened and hysterical to have the intended effect: it's strange, but one almost has to disengage from the film to appreciate what it's doing, else some of the characters' insane rants might induce inadvertent laughter. This is particularly true since Ashley Judd, despite being praised in some circles for the role, is just terrible, busting out a lot of method-actress writhing and twitching, though given the film's tone that might just be appropriate. Beneath the histrionics is a sad, vaguely allegorical story about a lonely woman who makes an unexpected connection with a paranoid schizophrenic, and the two of them spiral together to their doom. Though the film is almost actively offputting as it plays, its stage roots showing not in its one-set, two-character structure but in its exaggerated flourishes and dialogue that doesn't quite gel, in retrospect it's powerful, almost searing. There's a scene in which Judd's character kicks her well-meaning friend out of the house to tend to her manifestly insane new friend, and while I didn't think much of it at the time, I haven't been able to forget it -- and the same goes for Bug's last ten minutes. Marketing this as some sort of monster movie probably led to droves of dissatisfied moviegoers last weekend.
Plays better in my mind's eye than on the screen, where it's a bit too heightened and hysterical to have the intended effect: it's strange, but one almost has to disengage from the film to appreciate what it's doing, else some of the characters' insane rants might induce inadvertent laughter. This is particularly true since Ashley Judd, despite being praised in some circles for the role, is just terrible, busting out a lot of method-actress writhing and twitching, though given the film's tone that might just be appropriate. Beneath the histrionics is a sad, vaguely allegorical story about a lonely woman who makes an unexpected connection with a paranoid schizophrenic, and the two of them spiral together to their doom. Though the film is almost actively offputting as it plays, its stage roots showing not in its one-set, two-character structure but in its exaggerated flourishes and dialogue that doesn't quite gel, in retrospect it's powerful, almost searing. There's a scene in which Judd's character kicks her well-meaning friend out of the house to tend to her manifestly insane new friend, and while I didn't think much of it at the time, I haven't been able to forget it -- and the same goes for Bug's last ten minutes. Marketing this as some sort of monster movie probably led to droves of dissatisfied moviegoers last weekend.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Once
Once (John Carney, 2007) - B+
I'm not quite on board with all of the raves, since I think the movie tries so hard to be unassuming and low-key that it becomes sort of overbearing and also kind of moment-to-moment predictable (e.g. the bored studio engineer cursing to his friend about having to spend the weekend with a bunch of wankers before hearing the music and nodding meaningfully). But nor can I deny its charms: the music is actually good, for one thing (Glen Hansard is the frontman for the better-than-Coldplay Irish pop band The Frames); for another, the movie staunchly resists becoming the sort of sappy love story I kept expecting. It's more in the vein of Before Sunrise, and by the end, the film's advertising tagline -- "How often do you find the right person?" (the answer ostensibly being "Once") -- seems more cruel than wistful. Last shot is a real heartbreaker.
I'm not quite on board with all of the raves, since I think the movie tries so hard to be unassuming and low-key that it becomes sort of overbearing and also kind of moment-to-moment predictable (e.g. the bored studio engineer cursing to his friend about having to spend the weekend with a bunch of wankers before hearing the music and nodding meaningfully). But nor can I deny its charms: the music is actually good, for one thing (Glen Hansard is the frontman for the better-than-Coldplay Irish pop band The Frames); for another, the movie staunchly resists becoming the sort of sappy love story I kept expecting. It's more in the vein of Before Sunrise, and by the end, the film's advertising tagline -- "How often do you find the right person?" (the answer ostensibly being "Once") -- seems more cruel than wistful. Last shot is a real heartbreaker.
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