Pop Culture Round-Up

Even in interviews where he's being kind of a dick, I still find him charming. It's humanizing, don't cha think?

What an ingenious little feature! I don't even care that I've never read the book, I liked reading it so much.

A nice primer for a show that, I don't mind telling you, is awesome.

“Is this a strike or a social event?” Why choose?

“Someone is probably weeping after watching my performance." From joy? 'Cause of the awesome? Let's hope.

For a column built on snark, I do hope I get to see this pic.

No Country for Old Men (2007)

Premise: While out hunting, Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin) finds a mess of dead bodies, several kilos of heroin, and two million dollars. He takes the money, attracting the attention of the local sheriff (Tommy Lee Jones) and a ruthless killer (Javier Bardem).

This marks the third movie in which I have seen Brolin this year. In the first two, he was delightfully, endlessly greasy. To be quite honest with you, I'd be alright with it if that was all Brolin had to give. He could show up, grease away, and be done with it. I'd ask for nothing more. But then here he is, giving me so much more. So much more I can hardly take it. Llewelyn's not the best guy (he takes the money, after all), but he's not the worst either. His interactions with his wife are hilariously offbeat, his conscience gets him at the worst of times, and he's surprisingly inventive. Brolin succeeds in not just making Llewelyn a strikingly realistic screen presence but someone whose friendship you wouldn't mind having. Considering he does all this with extremely limited dialogue, it's nothing to shake a stick at.

Indeed, writing and directing duo Ethan and Joel Coen, working from the novel by Cormac McCarthy, make this movie as silent as the grave save for ambient noise. The dialogue is slight and infrequent, the movie nearly scoreless. Long shots of men walking through the desert are met with no swelling score, only wind and the crunch of sand and rock. It's beautiful, naturalistic picture, and the lack of a score only adds to its power. For, in a filmography littered with classics, this offering may well be the Coens' materpiece. Their choice to rely heavily on ambient noise ramps up the tension in a movie that does not bring you to the edge of your seat. Oh no, you are plastered to the back of it, weighed down by the intense atmosphere of its imposing terror. You sit stock still and barely breathe.

Assisting in that terror and tension is Bardem, whose Anton Chigurh brings new meaning to the term 'casual menace.' As Chigurh, Bardem is downright nonchalant in his murders and a complete mystery in addition to that. It's a wonder that one man can be so perfectly indifferent to his work and yet have such a dedicated work ethic. And when that work is murdering any number of people in pursuit of stolen drug money, it's chilling.

Jones' Ed Tom Bell is as much a framing device as he is a character, opening with a monologue, then disappearing, then returning later on to observe, it would seem, the cat and mouse game between Moss and Chigurh from the outside. Even so, Bell is a fully realized man in Jones' care, weathered and world-weary but still upright. His final monologue will bring you to your knees.

Ingenious, thrilling, and sometimes playful, this Coen picture is not to be missed. A

Pop Culture Round-Up: Another, slightly less forgotten edition

I've been falling behind on my pop culture reading of late, but I do have a couple of items of note.

The beginning of something that had the potential to be worth talking about.

"Please keep out of children." -- On a butcher knife. And that's only my favourite so far!

An hilarious childhood story and a dreamy photo gallery? Happy days.

'Natural charisma' indeed.

Not the final word, but one worth thinking about.

Have fun at work.

American Gangster (2007)

Outline: After the death of his boss, Frank Lucas (Denzel Washington) seeks to take his position in Harlem. With the help of a cousin stationed in Vietnam, Lucas sets up a pipeline to bring pure heroin into New York. At the same time, Richie Roberts (Russell Crowe), a New Jersey cop whose honesty has bred distrust among the force, is selected to run an elite drug squad. His investigation slowly brings him to Lucas as Lucas climbs higher and higher in the underworld.

Although I am certain I read it in the AV Club, I'm not sure exactly where. I can't even get the wording right to find it again. Suffice it to say that somewhere, someone in the AV Club made the trenchant point that because the Western movie is such mined territory and because there are so many quality Westerns out there, any new Western has to justify its existence in order to matter. Why do we need another Western? The same went for the gangster pic.

That sort of stuck in my head, and I started wondering about why we need American Gangster as I sat in the theatre. I'm not quite sure, to be honest. It benefits from being based on a true story, as well as being the first movie to portray this particular story. It also benefits from having a spectacular supporting cast with wonderful turns from the quiet, charismatic Chiwetel Ejiofor; the greasy Josh Brolin; and the underused and underrated John Hawkes. That's only the tip of the iceberg.

It benefits greatly from Washington's restrained performance. Lucas is smart and a charmer, but he's got the coiled danger of jungle cat behind that mega-watt smile. Steven Zailian's script, from an article by Mark Jacobson, is smart about who Lucas is, and it isn't afraid to let who he is to his family butt up against the consequences of what he does.

Unfortunately, the script works too hard to set up Roberts and Lucas as balancing opposites. Nearly everything that Lucas says or does finds its equal and opposite reaction in Roberts: Lucas recruits his brothers, Roberts recruits in a bar; Lucas dates and marries one woman, Roberts is a divorcé with a string of women; Lucas sits down to massive family dinners, Roberts mashes potato chips onto tuna salad. The only thing they have in common, it would seem, is their commitment to their jobs.

It's actually a great idea for the script to keep Lucas and Roberts apart until a handful of back-to-back scenes near the end. It's just too bad it takes so long to get there. Even so, it's spectacular to watch even if they don't tear into each other. It quiet and rhythmic, and you can see how things would be different if they knew each other under other circumstances. It's a little like the diner scene in Heat, and a lot more powerful that you would expect from a situation that's free of histrionics or mugging or monologues. Just two predators of a different sort, sniffing the air for danger.

For, indeed, Crowe also gives a fairly restrained performance. Roberts is also smart and charming, and he is also dangerous, but he is more languid about it because he has to be. He's on the opposite side of everyone, it would seem, from dirty cops to criminals to his own family, so he's got to pick his moments even more carefully than the patient Lucas.

Director Ridley Scott deserves some of the praise for bring these two under control, as I have seen over-the-top performances from both in the past. But I also know he deserves some of the praise for making this movie too long and for hiding that Grain Train Robbery homage until the end. And if it weren't so long, the rest of it wouldn't really matter. B+

Just want to do something special for all them ladies in the world

So People has done us their yearly favour of taking the guess work of the subjective. Yes, they are once again telling us which men are sexy. Thank goodness we've got you, People. And, as has become my tradition, I will break down the list for you into a true-false kind of situation.

1. He can be, although that picture doesn't really show it.
2. Again, he sure is, but I find that picture strange as well. He seems a little sad. Maybe 'cause his character sucks.
3. I know some people think so. That picture is riot.
4. Accepted as cannon.
5. Hmm. I like that as a choice.
6. Hells ya.
7. Hells ya again. He's one of the best parts of that show. Well, not the uncomfortable physical chemistry between him and Emily VanCamp, who plays his half-sister, but still. Hotness.
8. Yup, although, again that picture doesn't really show it. What's with the photo selection this year?
9. He is, and good for them for saying so.
10. In point of fact? Yes. In that quote? No.
11. I would have gone with the other one, but that's me.
12. No for many reasons, including that photo and that quote.
13. Yup, even if I've never seen that guy before.
14. No, and the photo has changed since the first time I flipped through. This photo's a little better, though.

Let's see. That's 7.5 out of 14. Is that the best ratio ever? Let's check. It is! Well played, People. And men. Don't forget them men.

The Darjeeling Limited (2007)

Brief: Having not spoken to his younger brothers in the year following their father's death, Francis (Owen Wilson) invites Peter (Adrien Brody) and Jack (Jason Schwartzman) on a "spiritual journey" across India, although Francis conceals from them the real reason for this particular destination.

Caution! Impossible to discuss without at least one spoiler!

This is a tricky one. My viewing partner and I fairly obviously thought this movie was a lot funnier than our fellow theatre goers. At the same time, it's not exactly your standard Anderson fare. There are no indicators of the passage of time, no tight shots of of various objects on a shelf or in a drawer to divide the vignettes. This movie, co-scripted by director Wes Anderson with Roman Coppola and Schwartzman, is a lot more openly sexual* and a lot more openly emotional than his previous efforts.

*Special mention goes to the excessive use of the term "hand job" in Rushmore. Also with Schwartzman as the sex symbol, which I understand some people found odd. I don't really get that.

It's still a pretty good movie. I kept my expectations low because I was under the impression when we went into the theatre that there was something wrong with this one. If I had to guess, most critics (or at least David Edelstein and Liz Penn, who always get worked up about this very thing) took umbrage with the fact that the movie kills a nameless Indian boy for the sake of the emotional development of their protagonists, the same overgrown, obsessive man-children that populate Anderson's oeuvre. If the cast hadn't played it so well, if the story hadn't set this particular tragedy in the midst of a year long break down, I'd probably be more pissed than I was.

To be honest, a lot of the misgivings I had evaporated because the principal cast worked so well together. Wilson and Schwartzman are both old hands when it comes to the particularities of Anderson's bubble, and I was surprised at how well Brody fit in. There were a couple of times when his more actorly nature seemed to be struggling against the Anderson patter, but he showed a deft comedic talent that has been overlooked in the past. Besides, he looks great running in slo-mo in a well cut suit.

Speakin of, what was up with the costuming? A fair number of articles before the movie came out made a big deal out of the Marc Jacobs for Louis Vuitton luggage (which was actually pretty cool looking, I won't lie). Recognizing that the voluminous number of pieces they were each carrying was symbolic**, why oh why didn't they have more clothes? These guys each had one impressively cut suit (not that they didn't look great) and one set of pyjamas each, and that was it. Weeks abroad and no changes of clothes? What the hell were they carrying around in those things? (I know what I wrote in the fake footnote but even so).

**Of their emotional baggage. No, no, I know. Listen, just go with it, okay? It can be pretty funny sometimes.

Despite what I read in that Slate article a while back, I am going to have to agree with whoever (possibly the article's author) said that Anderson uses his characters' casual racism to criticize them and the privileged world from which they come. When Peter remarks that he likes India because it smells spicy, he's meant to sound ridiculous. It supposed to be stupid for them to think they could fly off to a foreign country and experience something "spiritual" just by virtue of being there. Of course they do, but it's entirely by accident.

The movie's kind of slow and strange, and it's definitely farther off course that Anderson has ever gone, but it's got a slow charm that will keep you smiling at unexpected moments long after the credits roll. Sometimes, that's enough. B

I told you. I said end of the world. And you're like, "Pooh-pooh, Southern California, pooh-pooh."

Don't pooh-pooh the Apocalypse, too. Read my latest Culture article and get the 411 on how it's all going to go down. Well, in movies anyway. No guarantees.

Michael Clayton (2007)

Story: When the litigator (Tom Wilkinson) from his firm representing UNorth in a massive civil action suit has a public break down, the firm brings in Michael Clayton (George Clooney) to fix the problem. UNorth's chief council, Karen Crowder (Tilda Swinton), is less than impressed with Michael, informing his boss at the law firm (Sydney Pollack) and planning to take matters into her own hands.

I bet you're thinking, "Dude, I still don't get what this movie's about. Also, when does that car blow up?" Right away, my friends, as writer-director Tony Gilroy uses JJ Abrams' favourite trope (dropping the viewers into the middle of the story then backing up a few days to find out how we got there) to his peril. We spend far too much time going back over that part of the story, and our only comfort is that we spend slightly less time with the screeching lunatics he meets in the first few minutes.

A few weeks ago, Kim Masters wondered why this movie isn't doing so well in theatres (although, I will note, it appears to have done better since that article was posted). The first point, that it's Clooney, makes some sense. People like Clooney the man but Clooney the actor is another story. The second point, that it's the marketing, makes a lot of sense. I had no idea what this movie was about until I sat down to watch it. The third point could be the subject of a far more interesting article, so let's leave it for now.

Let's debunk the second point by spelling out the plot in a way no commercial is interested in doing. Arthur Edens (that's Wilkinson) is the sole attorney representing UNorth for this law firm, and he knows that UNorth is guilty. Among their other interests, UNorth is responsible for a fertilizer that poisons people. Of course, this is one of the problems with the plot of this movie. We know, almost from the beginning, that UNorth knowingly put on the market a fertilizer that was poisonous. There is no ambiguity on this point nor is the decision to sell it linked to any human. Of the four signatures on the internal document that proves that UNorth knew about the lethal nature of their product in advance, we meet exactly one man, and he has maybe, maybe five minutes of screen time out of the 119 minutes we spend with this story. Of course, that man isn't our eponymous protagonist, so we aren't likely to get any better.

Michael Clayton is our hero, and this is his story. The poisoning of hundreds of farmers is secondary to the slow awakening of his conscience. It's not that that, on its own, doesn't make for an interesting story. It surely does. It's that Michael is so laden down with extraneous subplots that are meant to showcase how ripe for reformation he is that you get bored getting there. Of course he's going to repent. He couldn't get any worse: bad relationship with his kid; bad relationship with his ex (who has, naturally, remarried and had another kid to make sure we understand how well adjusted she is); neglectful of his family, including his dying father; gambling addict; in debt, but no, not to a bank like a normal person, to a loan shark; no significant relationships outside of work; no real relationships at all except with Arthur, a manic-depressive off his meds. Michael's like Harvey Kietel in Bad Lieutenant only self-serious. Even so, Clooney makes Michael's transformation almost entirely* believable, and it's also fun to watch him charm or growl, as the situation merits, on screen.

*There is one scene that strained my credulity so far as to cause me pain, in which he confronts Pollack about the possibility that UNorth is guilty. He's holding the evidence in his damn hand, but he's still asking. Do you think the case would have reached 30 000 billable hours if they were innocent?

Sadly, neither the dullness nor the sheer volume of subplots are this movie's greatest failing. That award is reserved for the movie's latent sexism. There are exactly two female characters of any significance in this movie. First off, we have Karen, chief counsel of UNorth. When we first meet Karen, she's having a sweaty melt down in the bathroom. It never really gets better for our girl. She's shown as nearly pathologically desperate to handle the situation that arises from Arthur's breakdown in order to impress her male mentor and keep her job. Said job calls for difficult and immoral decisions, which the script does not see fight to give Karen the sangfroid to make. Instead, she is constantly on the verge of tears or falling to pieces over things that Gilroy makes abundantly clear Pollack or even Clooney could do without batting a lash. More than once we see her laying out her outfits and putting herself together in the morning, practicing a speech for a meeting or sound bytes for an interview. The only time we see any male character in such a state of disarray is Arthur during his mental collapse. Unlike the rest of the leads, Karen doesn't have a home but a series of hotel rooms. She's the only one who works out, and she does work while on the treadmill. The only female lead is riddled with flaws and given no redeeming characteristics.

She is, naturally, "balanced" out by the virginal Anna (Merritt Wever), a twenty-ish daughter of one of the victim's of UNorth who has never left the farm. The one and only time she does, she brings pastel, floral pyjamas and has a stuffed animal strapped into her suitcase. One's a mess, and the other's infantilized. Thanks, Gilroy.

That said, I still like both Wever and Swinton, who knocks it out of the park every time anyway. It's shame, though. She does sangfroid really well.

Mostly, though, it's just boring. If the leads weren't so good, this movie wouldn't have anything going for it. Oh, and all that good stuff from the preview? From the last act. Good job, marketers! C