Syriana (2005)

Plan: Bob Barnes (George Clooney) is a CIA agent who specializes in, um, something. Don’t ask me. He blows some people up and later he gets tortured. Lawyer Bennett Holiday (Jeffrey Wright) is contracted by two oil companies, Connex and Killen (Chris Cooper works for one of them), to look into the companies’ dirty laundry so that their merger may be approved by Congress. Energy analyst Bryan Woodman (Matt Damon) accepts a position with the more radical prince (Alexander Siddig) and eldest son of the Emir of non-descript Middle Eastern country (Saudi Arabia?), while his more conservative brother (Akbar Kurtha) cozies up to another, more senior lawyer from Holiday’s firm, Dean Whiting (Christopher Plummer). Finally, two immigrants who are fired from one of Connex’ or Killen’s plants in non-descript Middle Eastern country join an Islamic school in order to eat.

Wow, that description is really long and captures almost none of what happens in the movie. Plus, I’m still unclear on a few of the character’s names. Just now I discovered that Woodman’s son’s name was Max.

Imagine, if you will, that the writer of Traffic (Steven Gaghan) decided to write something even more politically charged with an even more labyrinth-like plot. He decides to direct it, too, which, for a writer, guarantees creative control over the project. Ta-da! You get this movie. On the one hand, it beautifully scripted and acted. The film is highly engaging. On the other hand, it’s almost impossible to follow.

Take Clooney’s plot line for example. In a given scene, I know what’s happening to Bob, I know what’s already happened, and I have no clue what’s going to happen next. Worse yet, I’m not entirely sure how his past and his present are connected. Of course, this example skews your interpretation of the results since this is the plot I least understood.

Unlike Wright’s, which I have seen other critics sight as a source of confusion. No, my friends. Makes sense to me. Plus, you get another top notch performance from a chameleon who I would easily put in the same league as Phillip Seymour Hoffman, and I think we all know how I feel about him. Except for one thing: the sub-plot with Bennett’s alcoholic father (at least I assume that was his dad). Was it supposed to make me sympathetic to Bennett? Help me understand his motives? Bewilder me? Pick C!

I have to admit it – this was the first time I’ve liked Damon this century without him playing a bumbling, low-level thief. Sure, it upsets me just as much as the next girl when a child is sacrificed for the sake of plot development, but I guess you just have to let this sort of thing go. Unlike Amanda Peet’s four inch heels. Those pissed me off.

Odd as it may seem (for I don’t enjoy not knowing what’s going on), I rather liked this movie, even if it made no sense most of the time. The themes carried over the plot confusion, and it could have survived on the strength of the performances alone. B+

King Kong (2005)

Hour 1: Down on her luck vaudevillian Ann Darrow (Naomi Watts) accepts a role in Carl Denham’s (Jack Black) latest production when she discovers that playwright Jack Driscoll (Adrien Brody), a favourite of hers, has penned the screenplay.

Hour 2: So they set out with movie star Bruce Baxter (Kyle Chandler) and an able-bodied crew (highlights include Thomas Kretschmann as Captain Englehorn, Evan Parke as first mate-type Hayes, and Jamie Bell as stowaway turned sailor Jimmy) for Skull Island. Ann and Jack are falling for each other. Once they reach the island, Ann is taken captive by the natives to be offered as a sacrifice to what they ominously refer to as “Kong.” Jack sets about a rescue mission, while Ann

Hour 3: develops Stockholm syndrome and falls into a platonic love for the one male that will never let her down: Kong (Andy Serkis). Ann’s rescue results in Kong’s capture, and he is taken to New York to be showcased on Broadway by Carl as the “eight wonder of the world.” Kong breaks free to find Ann, which, of course, brings chaos to New York City. And then they climb the Empire State Building.

Listen, you know the story. I feel very full disclosure about this whole review, so you are going to have to settle down and agree that it’s not like I’m giving anything away. Except that I so will. But I’m not giving away the plot because it’s common knowledge. Plus, I very kindly broke it down into hours for you, as part of my weird full disclosure thing, which is why I now mention that I haven’t seen either of the other two versions. I have a feeling that that’s not important.

So, yeah, teeny bit over three hours. To his immense credit (and we all know I don’t regularly give this man any credit), director/co-writer Peter Jackson doesn’t make it feel like three hours. No one in my company even took a bathroom break! Sure, there were times when Ave turned to me and said that they could have cut “this” part out, and she was right. The picture could have been a bit more quickly paced, but I don’t mean that in the sense that I felt it moved too slowly. It didn’t. Writers Fran Walsh, Philippa Boyens, and Jackson shoehorn in a lot of back story that simply didn’t exist in the 1933 classic, and that kind of thing takes time. To be honest, I like most of the changes that they made. I like that Driscoll is transformed from a sailor into a proto-feminist sensitive writer-type. I like that Ann returns Kong’s sentiments.

I cannot stand the subplot involving Hayes and Jimmy. By the time Jimmy, remarking on Heart of Darkness, comments to Hayes, “This isn’t an adventure story, is it?”, I was looking for a knife. Are we all so stupid that we need the whole plot spelled out to us though two somewhat inconsequential characters? No? Give the audience some credit, Jackson! Nice work by Parke and Bell anyway.

While I’m on this complimentary vibe, let me give mad props to James Newton Howard for the score he whipped up in less than two months. It was transcendent. The whole world melts away when you hear it, much like it does for Ann when she’s with Kong. Moreover, it was perfectly suited to the movie. Awards for this man!

While I can understand the impulse to cast Black (who does barely controlled mania better?) in the role that’s basically a send up of Orson Wells’ later days, there were times when he seemed a bit miscast. Maybe he’s just not comfortable in front of greenscreens.

Watts. I’ll just come out and say it: I still don’t see what the big deal is about Nicole Kidman the Younger is. I’d take the real Nicole any day. I think the main difference, besides Nicole being more technically talented, is that sometimes she can give off a chilly, removed vibe, whereas Naomi is a bit warmer, a bit more approachable. This role is well suited to what Watts has to offer. I can empathize with Ann and Kong’s plight, and even my hardened heart was moved by the endearing Central Park skating reprieve.

But my sympathies? Were quickly and firmly planted in Jack’s camp. Kong is built to be a warrior, but there’s no indication that Jack’s cut out for anything other than writing. Even so, he, too, is unfailing in his devotion to Ann. He risks life and limb time and again, and she has to go and fall for an ape. Of course, my feelings for the über-menschy Renaissance man Jack Driscoll may, in part, be influenced by my feelings for his portrayer. Well, what did you think was going to happen? Brody was Jackson’s one and only choice for the role, did all his own stunt driving, and was sporting 30s period costume, which I how I feel for him in the first place. What’s a girl to do?

I’d go into the sexual politics of this movie and my serious issues with them, but Meghan O’Rourke’s already done such a good job that I must defer to her.

For a movie that relies heavily on a CGI ape and Naomi Watts’ breathing, it’s strangely affecting. A

The Family Stone (2005)

Brief: Eldest son Everett (Dermot Mulroney) brings his tightly-wound, illiberal girlfriend Meredith (Sarah Jessica Parker) home for Christmas to meet his liberal New England brood, from sly hipster parents Sybil (Diane Keaton) and Kelly (Craig T. Nelson), to very pregnant Susannah (Elizabeth Reaser) whose husband is away on business, to stoner documentary film editor Ben (Luke Wilson), to deaf Thad (Tyrone Giordano) and his husband Patrick (Brian White), to the sassy opposite of Meredith, Amy (Rachel McAdams). Meredith is tormented by the Stones to the point where she calls in her sister, Julie (Claire Danes), as backup.

Let it henceforth be known that Carrie was always my least favourite of the Sex and the City quartet for many a reason, the chief being that Carrie was unfortunately plagued by the same obstacle that all protagonists face: she was a little miss me-ffet. Everything was always about Carrie. There exists a single episode which I can point to where she actually lets someone else’s problems come first: Miranda’s mother’s funeral. Sure, she was there for Samantha through her cancer, but more often than not, Carrie had a knack for being the most selfish, unsupportive friend imaginable. When it comes right down to it, I’d rather have Samantha as a friend: she was the least judgemental of all of them.

Of course, it’s not like that’s something I can hold against SJP specifically. She didn’t write Carrie that way, and, given her near-perfect appearance in public each and every time she steps out of the house, she didn’t necessarily dress Carrie that way either. But I did hold it against her. I did, I did, I did. Her screeching howler-monkey ways were enough to get me to want to avoid her presence in everything other than Footloose and State and Main.

Naturally, all this set up could only mean one thing: I kind of love SJP now. Meredith may have said some of the most heinous things I have ever heard, and she may justly deserved the smack down she politely got from Kelly and then more cruelly got from Sybil, but, by the time she has her hilarious drunken fest in a local bar, you just love her. She keeps sabotaging herself because she just doesn’t know any better (not that her boyfriend helps her out – seriously, you wouldn’t teach her how to sign even something as simple as “Hello”?). This lady is a million light years away from Carrie, and SJP provides a wonderful turn as an uptight WASP in the face of the original uptight WASP: Diane Keaton.

Sybil’s motivations for her actions are slowly revealed, so you can understand her choices, unlike her insufferable daughter Amy, who makes Meredith’s life hell for no apparent reason. Nothing at all redeems Amy in this movie. McAdams doesn’t seem to care, which is well enough when she’s surrounded by a cast of this calibre.

Sure, after the three-hankie subplot, everything’s wrapped up with a holiday bow so neat that you practically write it yourself. But that’s what you want from a Christmas movie, isn’t it? Conventionalities aside, I’ve got a bit of a crush on Thomas Bezucha (writer/director) now. B+

P.S. Goodbye, John Spencer. The show shouldn’t go on without you.

P.P.S. My fellow audience members in Cinema 3 continue to astound me. The chances of them being the same people every time are slim to none, but they always managed to be the most kind-hearted, generous, and wondrously vocal people around.

3:1

Based on evidence that will follow, I claim that they odds are three to one that a movie you watch is going to be less than spectacular. Odds are three to one that it will be boring and/or crappy. These odds were developed in response to a completely non-random sampling of three DVDs and one movie at the cinema.

Frida (2002)

Plot 1: A biography of Frida Kahlo (Salma Hayek), who channeled the pain of a crippling injury and her tempestuous marriage to fellow painter Diego Rivera (Alfred Molina) into her work.

Boring. Sure, Hayek and Molina are terrific, but the movie moves so slowly and aimlessly that it doesn’t even matter. The way Frida’s work is integrated into the movie (a shot is frozen and then slowly replaced with a painting of the event or gradually the Frida in the painting becomes the flesh and blood one) were the only things worthy of my attention.

Also, having Ashley Judd, Edward Norton, and Antonio Banderas around for glorified cameos did nothing but cause me to wonder what was up with the stunt casting. By the time Geoffrey Rush rolled in as Leon Trotsky, I was struggling to care. The picture is beautiful to look at but a disaster the longer you stare. C +

The Opposite of Sex (1998)

Plot 2: 16 year-old Dedee Truitt (Christina Ricci) runs away from home to live with her gay half-brother, Bill (Martin Donovan), seduces his live-in lover, Matt (Ivan Sergei), and runs off to LA with Matt in tow. Meanwhile, Bill has to fend of a sexual harassment charge brought against him by Matt’s other boyfriend, Jason (Johnny Galecki), as he and the sister (Lisa Kudrow) of his dead lover search for Matt and pregnant Dedee, with help from Sheriff Carl (Lyle Lovett).

It says a lot about a movie when I think the most interesting character is played by Lyle Lovett. Okay, I’ve got a strange, October Sky-based soft spot for William Lee Scott, who played Randy, but that’s about it. It was mostly for the Lyle Lovett that I kept the movie on. Normally I don’t like Lovett, and, when I see him in a movie, I say things like, “What are you doing here?!” So good on you, Lyle.

Not so good on Don Roos, though. Why do critics like him? I know I have yet to see this year’s Happy Endings, but, otherwise, everything he writes or directors or writer/directs kind of sucks. This is no exception. C –

Aeon Flux (2005)

Plot 3: Blah blah future plague last city on earth rebels cakes. After the death of her sister, Una (Amelia Warner), Aeon (Charlize Theron, rocking some dark hair) finally gets the assignment she’s been waiting for: the assassination of Chairman Trevor Goodchild (Marton Csokas, looking fine). Naturally, when she finally gets close to the chairman, she discovers that things are not as they appear.

Before I get some ill-advised backlash about how I went to see this movie, and the cognitive dissonance that no doubt follows for you, let me remind you that trying to predict my taste in movies/my movie watching pattern is futile and frustrating.

You see, I was in quite a craptacular mood, and I wanted something mindless to help me avoid my stress. There are two types of mindless movies: those which are so stupid, so inane, so awful that their very existence is enough of a reason to bubble over with rage. This one was the good kind of mindless, where you don’t have to think about what’s happening, where every revelation is obvious without being stupidly so, and where the number of questions you have at the end of the movie are kept to a minimum and mostly involve Theron’s hair. Brisk pacing helps. Good work, team!

There’s nothing good or bad in this world but thinking makes it so, and that’s the way you need to address this movie. I wouldn’t recommend spending money on it if you don’t need to, but it makes a pleasant enough diversion if you need one. C

And, finally, it must be time for the good movie!

House of Flying Daggers (2004)

Plot 4: The local deputies capture Mei (Ziyi Zhang or Zhang Ziyi, depending on what you see) a member of the rebel group, House of Flying Daggers. She is rescued by Capitan Jin (Takeshi Kaneshiro), who plans to use Mei to find the Daggers’ leader. Captain Leo (Andy Lau) warns Jin not to fall for Mei.

Created as a companion piece to his 2002 release, Hero, Yimou Zhang’s film is here is breathtakingly beautiful. It takes a little while to get into it, but once you do you are carried away to a sumptuous and violent world.

Imagine how disappointed I was to discover that it’s not even filmed in China. Alas, it was the Ukraine.

I don’t have much to say about it except that you should watch it. See a single drop of blood splash onto a dagger while it’s flying through the hair. Admire the bath Jin creates for Mei along the road. Stare in wonder at the marvel of choreography and cinematography that make up this intoxicating picture. A -

In the beginning, things were Golden

HFPA has thrown down the gauntlet, which means that rusty cogs of the awards season have been oiled and put into motion.

Okay, sure, the LA critics awards are considered the true opening bell of American awards season, but there's no point in arguing the start date based on something that isn't televised (didn't those nice people in Venice already show Good Night, and Good Luck. and Brokeback Mountain the love, after all?).

The point is: the nominations are out. They've been out for two days, folks! Two! That's enough time for you, as I did, to say things like "Hoffman Capote?" "Really? Johnny Depp?" or even "I'm pulling for you, Mary Louise! Take those bitches down!"

So, time for you to throw down as well. Does Phoenix have a lock? Could this be the long promised comeback year for Woody Allen?

More importantly, which star is most likely to wear something extravagantly awful? Or behave in a completely ungracious Annette Benning kind of way? Let's be completely speculative and mean!

Yes, I will be posting about movies again sometime soon. Movies, plural. Keep yer pants on.

Rent (2005)

Summary: Aspiring filmmaker Mark (Anthony Rapp) and musician Roger (Adam Pascal) are roomies living rent free in a loft (which Roger hasn’t left in a year) owned by their former roommate, Benny (Taye Diggs). Mimi (Rosario Dawson), a junkie/exotic dancer, lives downstairs. Roger and Mimi meet. Roger likey. Mimi likey. But Roger no likey the drugs because that’s how he and his ex ended up HIV positive. In fact, that’s probably how Mimi ended up in the same boat. Meanwhile, Mark and Roger’s other former roommate Collins (Jesse L. Martin), comes home to roost after getting fired from his teaching position at MIT. He meets Angel (Wilson Jermaine Heredia) after he is mugged. Collins likey. Angel likey. They’re both positive, too. Finally, Mark’s ex, Maureen (Idina Menzel), needs Mark’s help with her latest performance piece, much to the chagrin of her girlfriend, Joanne (Tracie Thoms).

Alright, I’ll bet you are wondering why anyone would want to see this musical in the cinema when they could see/have seen it on stage. Good question. I’ve got answers for ya.

If you have already seen it:
- Minus Dawson and Thoms, you get to see the original Broadway cast.
- Did you sit in rows A-G last time? No? Well, now you can see all the action up close and personal.

If you haven’t seen it yet:
- Do you really think you are going to get another chance to see this cast this close this cheap? You’re not, so stop thinking that way.

Plus, now that it’s been out in the theatres for awhile, you might be able to enjoy it without the sing-a-long crowd. On the other hand, a couple burst forth into song at the end of my screening.

I’m about to make up the names of the songs based on their lyrics, so bear with me.

See, the great thing about moving theatre off the stage is the way you “open up” the piece. “Do you know the way to Santa Fe?” moves to the F train. “Out tonight” starts on the stage at the Cat Scratch Club. “Take me (or leave me)” disrupts Maureen and Joanne’s engagement party at a swanky club.

Of course, screenwriter Steve Chbosky also loosens up Jonathan Larson’s musical, trading in the lyricism of the interludes between numbers for actual dialogue, weaving flashbacks into songs so Mark doesn’t have to wear his captain exposition cap.

Chris Columbus (director) gives us some of his best work yet. More often that not, on stage a musical relies solely on the ability of the performers to play it to the rafters. But with a camera in their faces, someone can focus on the quiet moments, allowing the actors to go beyond emoting and internalize their characters.

Adam Pascal, if you weren’t married with two kids, I would have two words for you: call me! I didn’t get the Roger appeal before, but I see it now. Thoms, I don’t care who you are replacing: you rock! Rapp, you should call me as well just for being that awesome. In fact, all the performers turn in exhilarating performances at the end of the day. It can be breathtaking to watch.

Also, no one was more excited to see Wayne Wilcox (Naked Marty, for those in the know) up there than I was. Not even Wayne himself. That’s what happens when you choose Logan, Rory.

So, if you were looking for a review full of lovely, positive comments, here is it.

That is to say, don’t keep reading if you don’t want to see anything negative.

Now, maybe it’s just that I have more experience with movies than live theatre, but did anyone else start questioning this movie like no body’s business? Collins got fired for his radical theory from MIT? The same people that keep Chomsky around? Since they don’t have to pay for rent or heating or electricity, why are Roger and Mark so damn broke all the time? Is it really that much of a betrayal of their bohemian lifestyle to, say, wait tables? Why doesn’t Mark get job at a small repertoire theatre? That would be right up his alley, I would think. If Roger hasn’t so much as left the loft for a year, from where does he get his AIDS drugs? How does he pay for them?

Can Diggs act? Did anyone else notice how disproportionately large Rapp’s head is to his body? That the lack of checked pants made Roger’s wardrobe look not at all dated? And, frankly, neither was Mark’s most of the time? And Angel’s glaring anachronism that nearly made me tear down the screen? Or how Benny’s redemption was conspicuously absent? Or how Rapp refused to abandon his lyrical lines while everyone around him spoke normally? Okay, I liked that last one. But still.

Also, all those homeless people live in a tent city outside of a giant, empty, unlocked building? Where Maureen keeps her equipment for days that no one steals? And Mimi walks home from the club by herself every night? Smart girl.

Finally, and maybe this is one of the benefits of having only one set (you never know exactly where the action is taking place), how Collins didn’t bitch-slap Mimi and Joanne at Angel’s interment I’ll never know. ‘Cause, I don’t know if I’ve brought this up in the past, but I can’t stand grandstanding at funerals. I find it despicable.

Here’s what I am telling you: if you spend too long thinking about it, you realize that most of these characters are assholes that don’t deserve your sympathy. I recommend not thinking about it.

Even so, I doubt all these questions have anything to do with the way Rent is spectacularly flopping as I write this. My theory? A few things: Purists aren’t going to want to see their beloved musical on the screen. Most of the people who haven’t yet seen this operetta on the stage probably weren’t holding out for a big screen adaptation. And, without a big name director or a big name cast, there’s little draw for anyone outside of Rent-heads to head on down to their local cinema. How many of you even recognize Martin from Law & Order or watched Diggs’ show on UPN last year? Sure, Dawson’s got a good number of credits on her filmography, but could you name five off the top of your head? More than that, could you name three where you were wowed by her acting?

Don’t get me wrong: I like Martin, Diggs, and Dawson. I’m just saying that the average person streaming into the theatre probably could not identify all three.

Although I did question it later (B-), I did lose myself in the movie while watching it (A+), which averages out to an A- .

Thumbsucker (2005)

Brief: Seventeen year old Justin Cobb (Lou Pucci) attempts to quit sucking his thumb with the help of his hippie orthodontist, Perry (Keanu Reeves), and, later, Ritalin. His earnest desire for change creates chaos in the world around him, particularly for his mother, Audrey (Tilda Swinton), a nurse who has taken a position in a rehab clinic for celebrities; his father, Mike (Vincent D’Onofrio), a former footballer who is now the manager of a sporting goods store; his debate teacher, Mr. Geary (Vince Vaughn); and his little brother, Joel (Chase Offerle).

I know that’s not the most tidy plot description I have ever written, but I had a hard time fitting everyone’s names in there. In fact, I had a hard time figuring out where to go after the first sentence. There’s also some business with Benjamin Bratt, who plays a TV celebrity that gets checked into Audrey’s rehab centre, and with whom Justin believes her to be in love.

One of the benefits of writing these reviews for my pleasure instead of as a job is that fact that I don’t have to read the book before hand. Have you ever read a review of an adaptation that didn’t compare the movie to the book and find fault with it? I doubt it. But here I am, trucking along, blissfully unaware of Walter Kirn’s novel. I understand that Justin’s got some incestuous feelings towards Audrey in the book that don’t come across in the movie, which is fine by me. There’s a lot going on anyway.

So, you know how when you usually see Reeves in a movie, you are laughing? At his “acting”? Because if there was a town called Woodenville, Reeves would be the mayor, the sheriff, the judge, the prosecutor, and any other job they needed him to do. What I’m saying here is that he’s a bit wooden up there on the screen. One might call him “lifeless.” So when a movie trilogy like those Matrix thingies came along, it seemed like a perfect match for Reeves. All he had to do act confused, be three steps behind everyone else, and “know kung fu.” Boy, howdy, can Reeves handle those three.

Imagine, if you will, that there was a part out there that was even more tailored to Reeves. Someone was going to let him on the joke. Someone was going to make his flat line readings and his ability to stare into the middle distance work for him. And, quite suddenly, you are marvelling over his light comedic touch and deadpan delivery. You are laughing because he is being funny! Congratulations! You, your imagination, Walter Kirn, and writer/direction Mike Mills have made your dream come true.

I know I should be praising Pucci’s star turn, or writing about how D’Onforio is amazing, or about how I’ve always wanted a movie with the two Vinces together (for I have), or talking about how Offerle is awesome, but Reeves really deserves that much attention.

So, yeah, Pucci. Go forth with thunder, kid. This is your sophomore outing, and the world in now your oyster. I’m going to spend the next week laughing over the idea of Justin screaming “POWER ANIMAL” or chastising his mom with, “I come home to celebrate, and you can’t tell me about the celebrities you work with?!”

So I didn’t get the dream sequences or why the movie ended with that completely unnecessary money scene or why it looked like it was set in the 1970s or, to be honest, Tilda Swinton. We’re cool. B