Well, 2008 is coming to a close. The Entertainment world has endured it's share of shock and losses with the deaths of Heath Ledger, Bernie Mac, Paul Newman Eartha Kitt and others.
They will be missed.
But the thing that sticks in my craw right now is the delay of my beloved Watchmen. God how I want to see this film. Ever since I saw the trailor and read the entire graphic novel standing up at my local Borders, I have been salivating for it. But, alas, I wait for it. Still.
The same way I waited for Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull and Twilight. WTF Were these worth waiting for? No.
Now, I realize my rants on this blog have not been as prolific or frequent or even as good as others, but I have enjoyed reading the blog and trying to stay abreast of the entertainment world.
Dominick you do a fantastic job reviewing these films and your blog entries kick ass everytime.
Amy darling thank you so much for allowing me to continue to contribute, inspite of myself.
I wish you both a Happy New Year and luck and fortune with it.
Movies I do not want to see again:
Hancock
Twilight
Dead and Breakfast
any of the Horrorfest 7 films to die for.
Cloverfield
The shock of them sucking so bad and the loss of money from seeing them is why I haven't blogged enough.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
The Year's Worst Movies: A List
I figure, with us at the tail end of 2008 now, I'd start working on those obligatory year-end lists. However, I'm still a few films short of being able to do my Best of 2008, that'll be coming next week. What I do feel comfortable writing on, having seen over 100 films released this year, is the worst films of the year, as I don't think most of the Oscar bait coming out will be terrible enough to make the cut. So, without further explanation, my Ten Worst Films of 2008
Special Award: The Happening
Now, here's the thing. Is "The Happening" one of the worst movies of the year? Without a doubt. Therein lies a dilemma for me, though; as god-awful as it was, I've wanted to watch it time and time again. The film has transcended being bad, to the point that it's a must-see film in that audaciously bad, "Troll 2" sort of way. I can't rank it as one of the year's worst, because honestly, I look more fondly on my viewings of it more than I do for a lot of the films I saw. As an illustration of my point, enjoy:
10. W.
You might think it strange that such an acclaimed movie made my "Worst" list, but I thoroughly believe that said acclaim came from a bunch of super-liberal film critics who found this film an absolute revelation. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to play politics; I'm moderate across the board, and I voted for Barack. The fact is that when you remove topicality from the equation, you have a movie that may as well have been called "Satire For Dummies." Josh Brolin fails to infuse George W. Bush with the same humanity that Frank Langella gave to Richard Nixon in "Frost/Nixon," but that's no fault of his. The fault lies with the script, which basically draws everybody but Colin Powell as a bunch of bumbling idiots out of the Three Stooges. For as edgy as this film seems to think it is, "Saturday Night Live" covered all this territory already, and a hell of a lot better. The coup d'etat, though, is director Oliver Stone's attempts to delve into Bush's daddy issues and amoral history in order to make him sympathetic. Even worse, critics believed that he succeeded. This movie is about as even-handed as "JFK," and I'd really like to meet the people who said that this film was fair, so that I can get a good look at just how far up their asses their heads are.
9. RockNRolla
I can't express enough how truly, deeply sad I am to have to put this film on this list. I wanted it to be Guy Ritchie's post-Madonna return to form, the confirmation that "Revolver" was just an unfortunate aberration. I don't know what happened, but the frenetic energy that seemed to be on the verge of ripping straight out of his earlier films is completely gone, replaced with the kind of dull, laborious plotting that populates dime-a-dozen crime films. Gerard Butler and Toby Kebell do their best to elevate the film, but there's no redeeming a script that takes over half the running time to establish the story, and on top of that talks down to the audience, giving us fifteen-minute scenes of expository dialogue to make sure we don't get lost along the way. Though it's not the year's worst movie, it might be the most disappointing. Then again, there's #3...
8. The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian
I can only remember two things about "Prince Caspian":
1.) At some point, a CGI grizzly bear appears in the middle of multiple pivotal scenes, without having any reason for being there. I laughed my ass off.
2.) There was a couple sitting in front of me that I'm pretty sure were fucking in the theater, thinking they were being discreet about it.
I can't recall a single other detail, other than my thoughts immediately after the film that it was nothing but a laborious, instantly forgettable "Lord of the Rings" for children. I think that says it all.
7. Stop-Loss
When I was done watching "Stop-Loss," I was moved to remember Danny Boyle's 2007 misfire "Sunshine," which was a phenomenal film that was turned into an awful one by a terrible plot twist late in the film. The same thing happened with this film, but on an even greater level. For two-thirds or so of its running time, "Stop-Loss" is a compelling look at the moral issues present within the titular law, which states that those enlisted in the military can have their required time of duty extended without warning, and must accept this or face the full penalty of law. The film has the conviction to say that sometimes, running is justified if you've been screwed by the system. However, without warning or any plot provocation, the film completely cops out, and ends with the final idea that there is nothing more important than doing what you're told to do, even if you don't want to and even if it may very well get you killed. If the film had adequately built to this conclusion, it would have worked; as it stands, it seems like the studio told director Kimberly Pierce that she could make an anti-war movie, as long as the overall purpose was rah-rahing patriotism. If you can see the logic in that, please explain it to me.
6. Sukiyaki Western Django
The idea is fantastic: A spaghetti Western with an all-Asian cast. The execution...well, frankly, execution implies that something was accomplished. As it stands, Takashi Miike (director of a number of stomach-churning J-horror films, including "Audition) apparently though the best way to run with this premise was to teach his stars English phonetically, and in Southern accents. Because of this, you feel like the English-language film needs subtitles, just to help you wade through the awkward speech patterns. Worse still, for a Western, there's next to no action, just a lot of talk about rival gangs, roses and a woman who knows karate. The whole film feels like it's about an hour longer than it is, and rather than being excited, or at least campily amused, you're just staring at your watch, wondering when the whole debacle will come to an end. When Quentin Tarantino gives the best performance in a film, you know something has gone terribly, terribly wrong.
5. Hancock
If you've already seen "Hancock," do me a favor. Go online and find the original script, titled "Tonight, He Comes" (which would have been the best movie title in history, but I digress) and read it. You'll see how great this movie could have been before however many polarized forces got involved and ripped it apart. Watching this, I could tell that studio executives had quite a bit to do with the production and cutting of this film; only people with no proper training could have edited this movie this poorly. The film is half comedy and half dark, philosophical superhero drama, and I've made it sound a lot more intriguing than it ends up being. They awkwardly and without warning switch from the first style to the second, and try to do both in less than 90 minutes of running time. The result is an awkward, jumbled mess, a waste of a charismatic star capable of making this character iconic with a better script, and a major letdown given how good this film could have, and should have, been.
4. 10,000 B.C.
I love "The Day After Tomorrow," without a hint of irony. It's an incredibly fun, if scientifically hideous, disaster epic that I'll watch every time it's on TV. Apparently, that film's director, Roland Emmerich, decided that he would lose his sense of humor, and for that matter his goddamn mind, for his follow-up, "10,000 B.C." Apparently, at that particular era in time, slaves were building pyramids, jungles were located directly next to vast deserts, and the best way to stop a sabertooth tiger from disemboweling you was to ask it not to do so. Oh, and the big villain, hidden until the end of the film, looks like an evil, possessed shower curtain, with long fingernails. This is clearly the stuff nightmares are made of. I was hoping this film would be so bad it was good. It was just bad.
3. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
This movie is the cinematic equivalent of depression. It acts like it has some spark, puts on a facade so that everybody else won't worry about it, but as soon as you're with it long enough, you know it just wants to be dead. Watching "Crystal Skull," I couldn't help but wonder if anybody involved in the making of it gave a shit whatsoever, outside of everybody needing money in these strained economic times. The film seems content to fly by solely on nostalgia, throwing in Shia LeBeouf to make it relevant to a younger audience. Now, as likable a man as Shia is, when you're depending on him to save the fourth installment of one of the all-time legendary film franchises, a franchise George Lucas is a part of, something's not right. Maybe Lucas is the problem, though. I can understand why he felt compelled to do this film, for what it's worth; he didn't quite kill "Star Wars" enough with the idiotic "Don't jump or I'm going to fuck you up with my lightsaber" scene at the end of "Revenge of the Sith," so he needed to do more damage to everybody's childhoods. Thus, a woman being killed by knowledge and a UFO buried in Mayan ruins. Epic fail.
2. Semi-Pro
A bad movie is a bad movie, but a bad comedy is arguably worse, just because you're cringing at how painfully unfunny it is. A bad Will Ferrell movie is the next step down the ladder, because he and his casts never fail to swing violently for the fences. Sometimes it works, as with "Anchorman," and sometimes you get the cinematic equivalent of afterbirth, which is what happens here. There is literally not one laugh in the film's hour and a half running time, mostly owing to the fact that the script seems like it was written by twelve year olds. The film mistakes long streams of profanity for comedy, frequently; there's a scene set around a game of poker that's so terribly put together that it leaves the audience sitting in a seat, wondering where the nearest sharp object is so they can destroy both the screen and themselves, so that they won't have to live with knowing they paid to see this godforsaken movie.
1. Funny Games
Since April, this piece of crap was going to be at the top of this list. I knew as soon as I left the theater that, no matter how many more movies I saw this year, nothing could possibly be worse. Lo and behold, nothing was. I won't recap all my thoughts on this film (look in the archive to the right of this article, under "April 2008," for my original review,) but I will say that in reflection, the film was nothing more than a slap in the face to people who don't "get" art. My only additional thought is that I do often worry about the American moviegoing public, and the films they pay to see. I've never been prouder of humanity than when even critics met this vile, sadistic, nihilistic, hopeless, pretentious, supposedly provocative affront to cinema with complete indifference. A film this awful doesn't warrant discussion.
Special Award: The Happening
Now, here's the thing. Is "The Happening" one of the worst movies of the year? Without a doubt. Therein lies a dilemma for me, though; as god-awful as it was, I've wanted to watch it time and time again. The film has transcended being bad, to the point that it's a must-see film in that audaciously bad, "Troll 2" sort of way. I can't rank it as one of the year's worst, because honestly, I look more fondly on my viewings of it more than I do for a lot of the films I saw. As an illustration of my point, enjoy:
10. W.
You might think it strange that such an acclaimed movie made my "Worst" list, but I thoroughly believe that said acclaim came from a bunch of super-liberal film critics who found this film an absolute revelation. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to play politics; I'm moderate across the board, and I voted for Barack. The fact is that when you remove topicality from the equation, you have a movie that may as well have been called "Satire For Dummies." Josh Brolin fails to infuse George W. Bush with the same humanity that Frank Langella gave to Richard Nixon in "Frost/Nixon," but that's no fault of his. The fault lies with the script, which basically draws everybody but Colin Powell as a bunch of bumbling idiots out of the Three Stooges. For as edgy as this film seems to think it is, "Saturday Night Live" covered all this territory already, and a hell of a lot better. The coup d'etat, though, is director Oliver Stone's attempts to delve into Bush's daddy issues and amoral history in order to make him sympathetic. Even worse, critics believed that he succeeded. This movie is about as even-handed as "JFK," and I'd really like to meet the people who said that this film was fair, so that I can get a good look at just how far up their asses their heads are.
9. RockNRolla
I can't express enough how truly, deeply sad I am to have to put this film on this list. I wanted it to be Guy Ritchie's post-Madonna return to form, the confirmation that "Revolver" was just an unfortunate aberration. I don't know what happened, but the frenetic energy that seemed to be on the verge of ripping straight out of his earlier films is completely gone, replaced with the kind of dull, laborious plotting that populates dime-a-dozen crime films. Gerard Butler and Toby Kebell do their best to elevate the film, but there's no redeeming a script that takes over half the running time to establish the story, and on top of that talks down to the audience, giving us fifteen-minute scenes of expository dialogue to make sure we don't get lost along the way. Though it's not the year's worst movie, it might be the most disappointing. Then again, there's #3...
8. The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian
I can only remember two things about "Prince Caspian":
1.) At some point, a CGI grizzly bear appears in the middle of multiple pivotal scenes, without having any reason for being there. I laughed my ass off.
2.) There was a couple sitting in front of me that I'm pretty sure were fucking in the theater, thinking they were being discreet about it.
I can't recall a single other detail, other than my thoughts immediately after the film that it was nothing but a laborious, instantly forgettable "Lord of the Rings" for children. I think that says it all.
7. Stop-Loss
When I was done watching "Stop-Loss," I was moved to remember Danny Boyle's 2007 misfire "Sunshine," which was a phenomenal film that was turned into an awful one by a terrible plot twist late in the film. The same thing happened with this film, but on an even greater level. For two-thirds or so of its running time, "Stop-Loss" is a compelling look at the moral issues present within the titular law, which states that those enlisted in the military can have their required time of duty extended without warning, and must accept this or face the full penalty of law. The film has the conviction to say that sometimes, running is justified if you've been screwed by the system. However, without warning or any plot provocation, the film completely cops out, and ends with the final idea that there is nothing more important than doing what you're told to do, even if you don't want to and even if it may very well get you killed. If the film had adequately built to this conclusion, it would have worked; as it stands, it seems like the studio told director Kimberly Pierce that she could make an anti-war movie, as long as the overall purpose was rah-rahing patriotism. If you can see the logic in that, please explain it to me.
6. Sukiyaki Western Django
The idea is fantastic: A spaghetti Western with an all-Asian cast. The execution...well, frankly, execution implies that something was accomplished. As it stands, Takashi Miike (director of a number of stomach-churning J-horror films, including "Audition) apparently though the best way to run with this premise was to teach his stars English phonetically, and in Southern accents. Because of this, you feel like the English-language film needs subtitles, just to help you wade through the awkward speech patterns. Worse still, for a Western, there's next to no action, just a lot of talk about rival gangs, roses and a woman who knows karate. The whole film feels like it's about an hour longer than it is, and rather than being excited, or at least campily amused, you're just staring at your watch, wondering when the whole debacle will come to an end. When Quentin Tarantino gives the best performance in a film, you know something has gone terribly, terribly wrong.
5. Hancock
If you've already seen "Hancock," do me a favor. Go online and find the original script, titled "Tonight, He Comes" (which would have been the best movie title in history, but I digress) and read it. You'll see how great this movie could have been before however many polarized forces got involved and ripped it apart. Watching this, I could tell that studio executives had quite a bit to do with the production and cutting of this film; only people with no proper training could have edited this movie this poorly. The film is half comedy and half dark, philosophical superhero drama, and I've made it sound a lot more intriguing than it ends up being. They awkwardly and without warning switch from the first style to the second, and try to do both in less than 90 minutes of running time. The result is an awkward, jumbled mess, a waste of a charismatic star capable of making this character iconic with a better script, and a major letdown given how good this film could have, and should have, been.
4. 10,000 B.C.
I love "The Day After Tomorrow," without a hint of irony. It's an incredibly fun, if scientifically hideous, disaster epic that I'll watch every time it's on TV. Apparently, that film's director, Roland Emmerich, decided that he would lose his sense of humor, and for that matter his goddamn mind, for his follow-up, "10,000 B.C." Apparently, at that particular era in time, slaves were building pyramids, jungles were located directly next to vast deserts, and the best way to stop a sabertooth tiger from disemboweling you was to ask it not to do so. Oh, and the big villain, hidden until the end of the film, looks like an evil, possessed shower curtain, with long fingernails. This is clearly the stuff nightmares are made of. I was hoping this film would be so bad it was good. It was just bad.
3. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
This movie is the cinematic equivalent of depression. It acts like it has some spark, puts on a facade so that everybody else won't worry about it, but as soon as you're with it long enough, you know it just wants to be dead. Watching "Crystal Skull," I couldn't help but wonder if anybody involved in the making of it gave a shit whatsoever, outside of everybody needing money in these strained economic times. The film seems content to fly by solely on nostalgia, throwing in Shia LeBeouf to make it relevant to a younger audience. Now, as likable a man as Shia is, when you're depending on him to save the fourth installment of one of the all-time legendary film franchises, a franchise George Lucas is a part of, something's not right. Maybe Lucas is the problem, though. I can understand why he felt compelled to do this film, for what it's worth; he didn't quite kill "Star Wars" enough with the idiotic "Don't jump or I'm going to fuck you up with my lightsaber" scene at the end of "Revenge of the Sith," so he needed to do more damage to everybody's childhoods. Thus, a woman being killed by knowledge and a UFO buried in Mayan ruins. Epic fail.
2. Semi-Pro
A bad movie is a bad movie, but a bad comedy is arguably worse, just because you're cringing at how painfully unfunny it is. A bad Will Ferrell movie is the next step down the ladder, because he and his casts never fail to swing violently for the fences. Sometimes it works, as with "Anchorman," and sometimes you get the cinematic equivalent of afterbirth, which is what happens here. There is literally not one laugh in the film's hour and a half running time, mostly owing to the fact that the script seems like it was written by twelve year olds. The film mistakes long streams of profanity for comedy, frequently; there's a scene set around a game of poker that's so terribly put together that it leaves the audience sitting in a seat, wondering where the nearest sharp object is so they can destroy both the screen and themselves, so that they won't have to live with knowing they paid to see this godforsaken movie.
1. Funny Games
Since April, this piece of crap was going to be at the top of this list. I knew as soon as I left the theater that, no matter how many more movies I saw this year, nothing could possibly be worse. Lo and behold, nothing was. I won't recap all my thoughts on this film (look in the archive to the right of this article, under "April 2008," for my original review,) but I will say that in reflection, the film was nothing more than a slap in the face to people who don't "get" art. My only additional thought is that I do often worry about the American moviegoing public, and the films they pay to see. I've never been prouder of humanity than when even critics met this vile, sadistic, nihilistic, hopeless, pretentious, supposedly provocative affront to cinema with complete indifference. A film this awful doesn't warrant discussion.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Review: The Spirit
There's no real way to write an accurate review of "The Spirit" in the style of a critic. This is half because on a normal four-star scale it's not a good movie, and half because I'm too much of a fanboy to be objective. So, I'm just going to outline some of the things that happen in the film. By the end of this list, you'll know whether you want to see this movie or not.
-Shit blows up.
-Shit makes dramatically shaped clouds when it blows up.
-Scarlett Johansson's entire purpose in this film is to be hot, spew serial-comic-circa-1950 dialogue and rock gravity-defying cleavage. Seriously, it could be seen from space.
-Samuel L. Jackson shows up as a Nazi for one scene, gives a dramatic monologue and then melts a kitten.
-Eva Mendes shows up as a femme fatale named Sand Saref, partially naked at one point. A Xerox of her ass is a major plot point.
-The Spirit (Gabriel Macht) utters lines like "I'm gonna kill you all kinds of dead" with a totally straight face.
-There is a fight sequence in which a toilet is used as a weapon. After it's used, the line "Toilets are always funny!" is exclaimed.
Now, it might seem unclear exactly what my opinion of this film was based on these things, but let me illustrate it this way. A friend of mine pointed out that if you combined the reviews of the Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun Times and another local paper I can't recall offhand, the film would get three stars. If you combined every review in the country, that is how I felt about this movie. Seeing it on Christmas night made me believe in the holidays again. Colors were brighter. Sounds and vistas, sharper.
Bottom line: Frank Miller directed a fanboy's masturbatory fantasy. Most people will say that it's trash filmmaking. I say please, sir, can I have some more?
-Shit blows up.
-Shit makes dramatically shaped clouds when it blows up.
-Scarlett Johansson's entire purpose in this film is to be hot, spew serial-comic-circa-1950 dialogue and rock gravity-defying cleavage. Seriously, it could be seen from space.
-Samuel L. Jackson shows up as a Nazi for one scene, gives a dramatic monologue and then melts a kitten.
-Eva Mendes shows up as a femme fatale named Sand Saref, partially naked at one point. A Xerox of her ass is a major plot point.
-The Spirit (Gabriel Macht) utters lines like "I'm gonna kill you all kinds of dead" with a totally straight face.
-There is a fight sequence in which a toilet is used as a weapon. After it's used, the line "Toilets are always funny!" is exclaimed.
Now, it might seem unclear exactly what my opinion of this film was based on these things, but let me illustrate it this way. A friend of mine pointed out that if you combined the reviews of the Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun Times and another local paper I can't recall offhand, the film would get three stars. If you combined every review in the country, that is how I felt about this movie. Seeing it on Christmas night made me believe in the holidays again. Colors were brighter. Sounds and vistas, sharper.
Bottom line: Frank Miller directed a fanboy's masturbatory fantasy. Most people will say that it's trash filmmaking. I say please, sir, can I have some more?
Review: Gran Torino
There's not another actor alive that could have played Walt Kowalski in "Gran Torino," except for Clint Eastwood. This isn't because the role is deep, though it is, or because there's script convolutions of any kind. The truth is that, had any other actor been filmed growling like a bear in close-up, it would have been so silly that the audience would have been lost beyond the point of repair. Enter Eastwood, the penultimate tough guy. The reason he works in this role, and the reason "Gran Torino" is so good, is because this is how we imagine he functions in his day-to-day life, and have imagined him ever since he played Detective Harry Callahan all those years ago.
The film starts off with the funeral of Walt's wife. He's miserable, because at the funeral his granddaughter shows up in a tube top, his grandsons in football jerseys, and it's evident that his sons, their parents, could care less. His wife's priest, Father Janovich (Christopher Carley) informs Walt that her last wish was for Walt to go to confession, and Walt dismisses him. To Walt, the final straw is when a Hmong family moves in next door. Walt is a Korean War vet, and one of those ornery old men so racist that they can drop a term like "gook" into casual conversation and not even see anything wrong with it.
Walt also lives in the "old neighborhood" of Detroit, which is becoming more of a ghetto with each passing day. One day, Walt sees that a local Hmong gang is harassing the boy next door, Thao (Bee Vang). He doesn't care, until they end up on his lawn. At that point, Walt storms outside, rifle in hand, and demands that they get off his lawn. Thao's hyper-smart sister Sue (Ahney Her) informs him that he's a hero to the neighborhood, which would explain all the meals and flowers being left on Walt's porch.
The film doesn't exactly break any new ground as far as the "old man grows to care for younger kids, learns something about himself along the way" subgenre goes, and so I'll stop synopsis here. What the film lacks in innovation, it more than makes up for in raw emotional impact. Walt realizes over time that the neighborhood isn't the place it used to be, and that it's a lot more dangerous. The key here is that there's no monologue about how he feels old or can't handle the changing times. Walt knows the score, finds it unacceptable and goes about trying to fix it the only way he knows how; he teaches Thao how to be a man, allows Sue to educate him on a foreign culture and violently threatens anybody who he sees as a wrongdoer.
Eastwood doesn't direct himself/portray Walt as anything more than an older version of his past characters. There's no sappiness to be found here; Walt's still a mean old racist at the end of the film, even if he's allowed a few people into his life that he hadn't before, there's no unnecessary character arc to leave the audience feeling good when they leave the theater. He makes a decisive choice at the end of the film that is genuinely heartbreaking, because it seems like it might be the first truly selfless choice he's made in his entire life.
The film starts off with the funeral of Walt's wife. He's miserable, because at the funeral his granddaughter shows up in a tube top, his grandsons in football jerseys, and it's evident that his sons, their parents, could care less. His wife's priest, Father Janovich (Christopher Carley) informs Walt that her last wish was for Walt to go to confession, and Walt dismisses him. To Walt, the final straw is when a Hmong family moves in next door. Walt is a Korean War vet, and one of those ornery old men so racist that they can drop a term like "gook" into casual conversation and not even see anything wrong with it.
Walt also lives in the "old neighborhood" of Detroit, which is becoming more of a ghetto with each passing day. One day, Walt sees that a local Hmong gang is harassing the boy next door, Thao (Bee Vang). He doesn't care, until they end up on his lawn. At that point, Walt storms outside, rifle in hand, and demands that they get off his lawn. Thao's hyper-smart sister Sue (Ahney Her) informs him that he's a hero to the neighborhood, which would explain all the meals and flowers being left on Walt's porch.
The film doesn't exactly break any new ground as far as the "old man grows to care for younger kids, learns something about himself along the way" subgenre goes, and so I'll stop synopsis here. What the film lacks in innovation, it more than makes up for in raw emotional impact. Walt realizes over time that the neighborhood isn't the place it used to be, and that it's a lot more dangerous. The key here is that there's no monologue about how he feels old or can't handle the changing times. Walt knows the score, finds it unacceptable and goes about trying to fix it the only way he knows how; he teaches Thao how to be a man, allows Sue to educate him on a foreign culture and violently threatens anybody who he sees as a wrongdoer.
Eastwood doesn't direct himself/portray Walt as anything more than an older version of his past characters. There's no sappiness to be found here; Walt's still a mean old racist at the end of the film, even if he's allowed a few people into his life that he hadn't before, there's no unnecessary character arc to leave the audience feeling good when they leave the theater. He makes a decisive choice at the end of the film that is genuinely heartbreaking, because it seems like it might be the first truly selfless choice he's made in his entire life.
Review: Seven Pounds
"Seven Pounds" is quite possibly the most perfect example I've ever seen of how melodrama, however heavy-handed, can work when placed in the right hands. Leave it to Will Smith, the world's most infinitely likable actor (Tom Hanks lost the right to that claim after "The DaVinci Code") and the creative team behind Smith's last heavy-handed Oscar bid, "The Pursuit of Happyness," to get it right on the second go-around.
Allow me to clear up the plot through the incredibly frustrating, vague trailers. Ben Thomas (Smith) is an IRS agent, who at the very beginning of the film calls in his own suicide. The film then jumps back an unknown length of time, to Ben selling off all his possessions and endlessly perusing lists of names, shouting them at himself repeatedly. He calls a blind phone salesman (Woody Harrelson) and cruelly berates him. He creepily tails Emily (Rosario Dawson) in a hospital before informing her she's being audited, only to then tell her that he's going to make sure she is out of the reach of the IRS for half a year, in order to help her pay off her medical debts.
Through this, and a number of equally odd episodes, Ben seems to be flying on an entirely different plane. He seems vicious at times, aloof at others, but the one constant is that he is perpetually depressed. Smith, to his credit, conveys this without one line of the script to help him. We see brief flashes of something horrifying that happened to Ben, but are not told just what this is until the very end of the film. He appears to be on the verge of giving up and dying, but something compels him to complete the series of goals he keeps obliquely referencing.
Then, a complication ensues: Ben falls for Emily, and she for him, even though he only intended to meet her as part of his suicidal endgame, whatever that may be. Because of this, he forces her along with him on his emotional roller coaster; he leads her on with hints at his broken heart, but whenever she begins to care enough to try and understand him, he forces her back to an arm's-length away. Despite this, they grow closer, even though Emily admits she is on the verge of dying and Ben knows he will be as well, though for wholly different reasons.
It's pretty easy to see why this film wasn't an easy sell for Columbia, because there's no real genre or central story to lump it into. The film is at once a tender, subtle romance that moves at an almost indie movie-style pace, and a journey towards death reminiscent of Nicolas Cage's in "Leaving Las Vegas." All the while, we are pulled in, wanting to know what drove Ben to this point and just what he has in mind. And when we finally find out....well, I can't give it away conscionably, but just let me say that the film ends with one of the most surreal sequences since the frog downpour in "Magnolia." It's not as out-of-left-field as that film, given that here the eventual end is hinted at earlier on, but it's no less affecting. This film will likely go down as one of the year's buried treasures, because it's affecting in a way that doesn't resonate instantly. It takes time to really understand how beautiful the final revelation is.
Allow me to clear up the plot through the incredibly frustrating, vague trailers. Ben Thomas (Smith) is an IRS agent, who at the very beginning of the film calls in his own suicide. The film then jumps back an unknown length of time, to Ben selling off all his possessions and endlessly perusing lists of names, shouting them at himself repeatedly. He calls a blind phone salesman (Woody Harrelson) and cruelly berates him. He creepily tails Emily (Rosario Dawson) in a hospital before informing her she's being audited, only to then tell her that he's going to make sure she is out of the reach of the IRS for half a year, in order to help her pay off her medical debts.
Through this, and a number of equally odd episodes, Ben seems to be flying on an entirely different plane. He seems vicious at times, aloof at others, but the one constant is that he is perpetually depressed. Smith, to his credit, conveys this without one line of the script to help him. We see brief flashes of something horrifying that happened to Ben, but are not told just what this is until the very end of the film. He appears to be on the verge of giving up and dying, but something compels him to complete the series of goals he keeps obliquely referencing.
Then, a complication ensues: Ben falls for Emily, and she for him, even though he only intended to meet her as part of his suicidal endgame, whatever that may be. Because of this, he forces her along with him on his emotional roller coaster; he leads her on with hints at his broken heart, but whenever she begins to care enough to try and understand him, he forces her back to an arm's-length away. Despite this, they grow closer, even though Emily admits she is on the verge of dying and Ben knows he will be as well, though for wholly different reasons.
It's pretty easy to see why this film wasn't an easy sell for Columbia, because there's no real genre or central story to lump it into. The film is at once a tender, subtle romance that moves at an almost indie movie-style pace, and a journey towards death reminiscent of Nicolas Cage's in "Leaving Las Vegas." All the while, we are pulled in, wanting to know what drove Ben to this point and just what he has in mind. And when we finally find out....well, I can't give it away conscionably, but just let me say that the film ends with one of the most surreal sequences since the frog downpour in "Magnolia." It's not as out-of-left-field as that film, given that here the eventual end is hinted at earlier on, but it's no less affecting. This film will likely go down as one of the year's buried treasures, because it's affecting in a way that doesn't resonate instantly. It takes time to really understand how beautiful the final revelation is.
Review: Yes Man
I remember fondly the Jim Carrey of my youth, the one who ran headlong onto an airport tarmac in "Dumb and Dumber," but I have long since accepted that he is no longer the same actor. Frankly, he's better off now. Full disclosure: I adore serious Carrey, given that "The Truman Show" and "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" are both among my favorite films. However, with "Yes Man," he returns to the territory that made him a star: high-concept movies that allow him to turn his face into rubber and his body into the world's punching bag.
Being that this is a high-concept movie, the entire plot can be synopsized in a sentence or two. Carl Allen (Carrey) is a maladroit bank employee who hasn't been out with his friends or done anything fun in nearly three years, ever since his ex-wife left him. However, he has a chance encounter with an old co-worker, who sells him on a Tony Robbins-like "Yes!" seminar. Carl goes, and the guru (Terrence Stamp) shows him how joyous his life can become if he says yes to anything and everything offered to him.
The premise itself is extremely similar to "Liar, Liar," but where that film allowed Carrey to unleash his id all over those around him, there's something uncomfortable about this premise. For much of the film, Carl is terrified of the things he's saying yes to, but is essentially a slave to the premise, and that's the reason this movie doesn't quite work; we like Carl, well enough that we don't want to see him suffer through being fellated by an octogenarian or being stuck in the middle of nowhere in the California hills after offering a ride and his cell phone to a homeless man. The latter at least has a positive effect, as it leads to him meeting Allison (Zooey Deschanel), a free spirit who becomes attracted to Carl because of his seemingly carefree way of approaching life.
This romance is what saves the film from being pointless, as Carl really begins to come alive (both in the film and to the audience) once Allison comes into his life and makes him push his boundaries. Inevitably, there is that moment in every romantic comedy where the film's central conceit leads to the lovers being separated, but unlike many, the reason given here actually makes enough sense that it doesn't seem as silly or unreasonable as they often do.
What really helps the film along is the way that it uses all the things Carl picks up while on his journey later on. In most movies, his learning Korean, taking flight lessons and signing off on every loan request in his bank would simply serve as a brief laugh before being discarded. Here, though, Carl turns into a sort of superhero, using everything he's learned to better the lives of others. The film's funniest scene, which I won't spoil here, involves Carl using his guitar lessons to save a man's life, and this (along with a few others) gives the film a heartfelt center that feels natural, rather than forced.
The trouble is that while there is heart here, there are too many dumb sight gags. At the screening I attended, the audience didn't start laughing until about halfway into the film, and this might very well be due to them being raised on the same Jim Carrey that I talked about earlier; because they know all his physical comedy tricks, they don't earn the same easy laughs that they used to, and only when the film ups its game in the second half does the audience start to go along with it. I'm all for a slow build in a film, it doesn't happen enough, but it shouldn't take this long in a broad comedy.
Being that this is a high-concept movie, the entire plot can be synopsized in a sentence or two. Carl Allen (Carrey) is a maladroit bank employee who hasn't been out with his friends or done anything fun in nearly three years, ever since his ex-wife left him. However, he has a chance encounter with an old co-worker, who sells him on a Tony Robbins-like "Yes!" seminar. Carl goes, and the guru (Terrence Stamp) shows him how joyous his life can become if he says yes to anything and everything offered to him.
The premise itself is extremely similar to "Liar, Liar," but where that film allowed Carrey to unleash his id all over those around him, there's something uncomfortable about this premise. For much of the film, Carl is terrified of the things he's saying yes to, but is essentially a slave to the premise, and that's the reason this movie doesn't quite work; we like Carl, well enough that we don't want to see him suffer through being fellated by an octogenarian or being stuck in the middle of nowhere in the California hills after offering a ride and his cell phone to a homeless man. The latter at least has a positive effect, as it leads to him meeting Allison (Zooey Deschanel), a free spirit who becomes attracted to Carl because of his seemingly carefree way of approaching life.
This romance is what saves the film from being pointless, as Carl really begins to come alive (both in the film and to the audience) once Allison comes into his life and makes him push his boundaries. Inevitably, there is that moment in every romantic comedy where the film's central conceit leads to the lovers being separated, but unlike many, the reason given here actually makes enough sense that it doesn't seem as silly or unreasonable as they often do.
What really helps the film along is the way that it uses all the things Carl picks up while on his journey later on. In most movies, his learning Korean, taking flight lessons and signing off on every loan request in his bank would simply serve as a brief laugh before being discarded. Here, though, Carl turns into a sort of superhero, using everything he's learned to better the lives of others. The film's funniest scene, which I won't spoil here, involves Carl using his guitar lessons to save a man's life, and this (along with a few others) gives the film a heartfelt center that feels natural, rather than forced.
The trouble is that while there is heart here, there are too many dumb sight gags. At the screening I attended, the audience didn't start laughing until about halfway into the film, and this might very well be due to them being raised on the same Jim Carrey that I talked about earlier; because they know all his physical comedy tricks, they don't earn the same easy laughs that they used to, and only when the film ups its game in the second half does the audience start to go along with it. I'm all for a slow build in a film, it doesn't happen enough, but it shouldn't take this long in a broad comedy.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
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