Feria Films

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

The Dark Knight Rises (2012)

Christian Bale

I've already written 1000 words on this picture, so I don't think I have it in me to craft anything resembling a complete essay with a narrative though-line. I do, however, have a lot more thoughts and reactions to the movie as a whole, which will now take the form of bullet points. This probably goes without saying but, just in case it doesn't, SPOILERS.

I must be the only person alive who loves Hans Zimmer's score. I love the tribal beat of Bane's theme and the way it goes crashing up against Batman's bombastic horns. I love the sneaky switcheroo when you realize that Bane's theme is like Bane himself -- not at all who you (or even he) thought but something entirely different. Above all, I love that when Bane and Batman come head to head for the first time, there is no score whatsoever. Just bone crunching and breathless anticipation in one of the most knock-down, drag-out fights I have ever seen on screen.
My best friend's already made remarks to the extent that she is over Christian Bale, but I think he's my mafia: just when I think I'm out, he pulls me back in. It's not just the streaks of grey hair, the hollows under his eyes, or the fact that he is visibly thinner and more fragile than previous incarnations that break my heart to realize that he may have "aged-out" of the role he defined for himself. It's the way his voice softens when he's speaking with Alfred about Rachel. There's not only sorrow in that voice but innocence, like Alfred is a time machine that brings Bruce back to a moment when he was truly himself. It's the way you can tell, even at first blush, that there's no way Bruce/Batman could ever be more interested in Miranda Tate (though Marion Cotillard has never been more luminous) than he is in the Cat/Selina Kyle. It's not just the challenge that thrills him but the possibility of finding a single human being who may also understand.
Speaking of Anne Hathaway, could she be any more killer in this movie? Sure, her first scene with Bruce when she flips from ingenue to seductress to criminal and right on out that window is gangbusters, but so is the moment in that scene when she hikes her skirt from just under her knee to just over her knee so she can climb (no one would wear those tights or the shoes to cater a party). Her dancing body can go from purring to ready to pounce in nanoseconds, but it's never campy. Above all, she gets to go through Harvey Dent's arc in reverse -- from apathetic to finally having some skin in the game. It was never really a matter of which side she would chose. It was just a question of how long it would take her to get there.
If it weren't for Joseph Gordon-Levitt, I think I would have fainted right out of my seat when Blake told Bruce he knew Bruce's secret identity 'cause he was also Batman (essentially). Mind you, it highlights the essential difference between them and further makes my point that you have to be a fuckin' weirdo to not become a cop or a prosecutor or the world's most dedicated lobbyist, but it also really smartly sets up the whole structures becoming shackles stuff and the way the movie lets you imagine that Blake just knew Bruce would leave him a little something special in his will. Of course, what I would really like to see is the "Becoming Batman" journal that would go along with it, full of handy tips like Lucius Fox's direct line, the best way to appear out of a shadow, and a guide to better growling.
Actually, I'm also probably the only person who doesn't hate the Batman growl. On PCHH Glen Weldon posited that the movies could be a solid 10% better if it weren't for that growl, but whatever. He's got to disguise his voice somehow. Maybe he should have sunk some money into those Mission: Impossible voice patches.
For that matter, I don't mind Tom Hardy's lilting based-on-an-Irish-Romani-'cause-he's-that-guy voice either. It took me right out of the movie the first time, I started to groove on it the second go 'round. It's just on border of being too silly, but, when you introduce a voice like that and follow it up with an impossibly menacing* hostile plane takeover, you start to see the character behind it. You see it in Bane's strut. You hear it in lines like, "What a lovely, lovely voice," followed immediately by mass murder and destruction. In fact, when you hear his voice for the first time, it's overwhelming loud - not just coming from behind you but in front of you and below you and in the seat next to you. Unnerving.
I don't really get Talia's point -- she hates her dad for disowning her protector but decided to follow through on his plan to destroy Gotham because his murder liberated her from her hate? That's pretty much what she said, I know, but I just don't understand. Why not enjoy the freedom to make your own decisions or reform the League of Shadows or use philanthropy to save the world like you've been pretending to anyway?
To the nit-pickers who want to know how Bruce gets from the unspecified prison location and back to a secured Gotham in an unspecified amount of time, I say, "Did you not watch Batman Begins?" He spent seven years figuring out how to get from A to B without any money or notice. I'm sure he had it in the bag.
How weird is it to see Batman in the daylight, though, right? It's a testament to both how broken the city is yet how accustomed they are to his presence that there are no double takes during that climactic showdown at City Hall. Gotham's just like Bruce in that regard -- they take Batman for granted.
The song/video that inspired my article title.
Besides the above, I think this is my favourite image that I came across in my research:

Christopher Nolan
© Warner Bros Pictures

A touch too long and a touch too reliant on Michael Caine's moist eyes to carry the emotional beats, but otherwise a near masterpiece. A-

*I was going to say "badass" here but decided against it in part because I think the term is overused, in part because I don't want to associate any positive connotations of the term with the character, and in part because I heard a very convincing argument against the very character of Bane (in that he is a less product of storytelling needs and more of a need in the 80s and 90s for more "badasses" in comics).

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Weekend update: The Amazing Spider-Man and Cosmopolis

The Amazing Spider-Man (2012)

Shortly after I saw The Amazing Spider-Man, a friend asked me how I would rate it. I gave her the letter grade, which she didn't get (she went to a school that didn't use them, apparently), so I gave her a percentage instead. She was shocked by my answer. First I tried to explain it away as the movie starting at a deficit with me because 1) I love Spider-Man and 2) I love the Sam Raimi Spider-Mans. That doesn't really explain it, though, and it's not really fair. It's more like this.

Anything other than the acting in this movie kind of sucks.

It has all the right elements: Peter developing the webs 'cause he's such a super-smarty, Gwen Stacy as his first love, Curt Connors doing wrong by trying to do right. All of those things work because the people playing them are so phenomenally well-cast (if you weren't already in love with Andrew Garfield, I don't know how much longer you will be able to hold out). It's all as it should be: Peter realizes a little something about himself and about growing up, and it gives him a confidence he never knew was always waiting inside him. But he's still a spaz who has to bury his head in his hands because what did he just say. And that Footloose-esqe moment of discovery . . . man, oh man.

But it's not right. Marc Webb's an excellent people director, but he doesn't have the visual elegance to craft an action sequence worth following. The score is horrendously distracting (really, James Horner, banging on the piano keys? Have you grown bored?). The plot is sketchy and oddly suggests that we really need to know Flash's back story. Flash! I live Chris Zylka and wish him well, post-Secret Circle, but c'mon. Forget about Richard Parker's amazing scientific discoveries and his dun Dun DUN!

It's like this -- if you don't put a crocodile snout on The Lizard, he risks looking like a turtle without his shell. B-

And, quite frankly, Sam Raimi and Tobey Maguire own the New York Subway. Don't even go there.

Cosmopolis (2012)

It's probably not a good sign when you start to wonder, "Why is this happening? Why is this happening to me?" while watching a movie. It's happening because I paid for it to happen. It's possible that I'm a masochist.

I'd be lying if I pretended that anything other than morbid curiosity drew me to this project. Von Pattinson? Cronenberg? Are we flipping maps again because that is some topsy-turvy shit.

I'll never fully fail a Cronenberg movie because I can't argue with the man's technical gifts or high level of commitment to the messages of his products. But beyond that, man. If I wanted to watch a movie that required so much work and delivered so little pay off, I'd probably watch Haneke again. D

Wednesday, July 04, 2012

Weekend update: Brave, Take This Waltz, Magic Mike

©Disney/Pixar

Yeah, I just invented another new series that I may or may not follow through on. The first post is the first step, peeps!

Brave (2012)

Though this will sound like sacrilege to some, I actually went to see Brave because I was spoiled for it. The tight rein on the ads meant that it felt like there was no story there, and my interest in these things is already middling at best. But then I got spoiled (intentionally so), and they were spot on: the part that you don't know about, the middle part that I am going to keep to myself, is easily the best. It saves Merida from being one-note (to a realistically teenage insufferable degree), and it provides the funniest gags and most moving moments. And then there's a conclusion, whatever. Aside from Act II, there's not much going on there. B

Take This Waltz (2012)

Take This Waltz is the movie I think I was supposed to see when I saw Blue Valentine. As good as it was, it was also freighted by actorly tics and what's supposed to be meaningful. When old Ryan Gosling opens a door and sees young Michelle Williams standing there, it's beautiful and symbolic and completely not answering the question of how they got there. Waltz manages to do that without having to go back -- you can see it in the way Seth Rogen obliviously ignores Willams' advances and how ill-formed and half-hearted those advances are. You can see how Luke Kirby's merciless mocking wouldn't be a put-off so much as an invitation to reveal more. At least he sees her.

Sarah Polley's already drowning in critical love for this one, and she should be. I found the interiors as crammed and fussed over as any Wes Anderson movie, but that doesn't stop Waltz from being deeply felt, as melancholic as it is hopeful, and as in love with its subjects as it is its setting. A-

Magic Mike (2012)

Steven Soderberg can do no wrong in my eyes this year. First he gives me Haywire and a protagonist worthy of the title badass, then he goes 100 miles in the other direction for that male stripper movie that everyone's talking about. And talk about it they should because Magic Mike is amazeballs.

If Polley (and Anderson's) interiors seem crammed, Soderberg flips the switch: there's always something to look at in the background. If Channing Tatum is a compelling dancer (and, oh, how he is. Look at him flip right off that stage!), then Kevin Nash is the most compelling non-dancer I've ever laid eyes on. The more effort Matthew McConaughey and his short-shorts put into training Alex Pettyfer, the more you wonder why he keeps ol' Nash around. And then you see him up on stage again: pure entertainment.

It's odd: as much as the movie is concerned with the commodification of sex (the kinds of people who sell it, and what happens when you do), it's equally concerned with the entertainment value of what's on stage. The guys can't just come out on stage and take off their clothes; they have elaborate costumes, props, and characters. They are wonderful. Sexy CPR, any one?

The movie is so comfortable with and fascinated by the world it's exploring that it's no wonder it takes so long to get to the central conflict. It's so late breaking and ill-conceived that it's next to impossible to credit, save Tatum and Pettyfer's characters beats. Less so for Cody Horn, who isn't as bad as you've read but also isn't nearly good enough to elevate her character beyond the page (turn your dictionaries to the bitc-s if you want to know which specific page). Too bad they couldn't have switched her out for Olivia Munn, who found real emotional depth in her small role.

The best of the best, though, has to be McConaughey. Between this and The Lincoln Lawyer, we finally have a career resurgence befitting his overly tanned skin, laconic drawl, and alternative steely and manic gaze. Take everything you've ever liked about McConaughey, chop it down to a supporting role, and you've basically got this performance. And it is a gem. B

P.S. No one shoots in DV better than ol' "Peter Andrews."

P.P.S. I love this picture. It looks like they are involved in a caper.

Monday, June 25, 2012

The Avengers (2012)

Thor and Captain America

I gave The Avengers a second chance.

Yeah, that's right: second. I thought it was merely okay the first time around, but some smart people convinced me that I was missing something, so I did it again. Verdict? It's very good, but I wouldn't go further than that in part because you basically don't have the space to develop that many distinct characters in an ensemble piece whose main goal is kicking ass and in part because some characters, no matter who you get to play them, will never lend themselves to character development (yes, Hulk, we're talking about you). I'm going to skip talking about all the delicious Whedon-verse-ism, though, because that's been done, and better, in about 1 million other places.

I was, however, thoroughly enthralled by what they had going on with Captain America, right down to the make-up and wardrobe choices. He's so alien to them; so different in his approach to how and Why We Fight that ends up standing out far more than the actual aliens. If he seemed (intentionally, I would wager) flat in Captain America, then he comes into sharp relief here. He never needed as much push as the rest of them to do the right thing, but he needs a lot of help to figure out what the right thing is these days (or if it even matters). Plus he gets to be part of one of my fave visual gags. Well played, Chris Evans.

Well played to . . . pretty much everyone, let's be honest. I love The Hemsworth (though I seriously considered calling in a Wig Cop on that thing) (also, he got to deliver what might have been my actual favourite joke of the movie, so good for him); I love The Buffalo and his Peter Falk impersonation; I love, love, love Robert Downey Jr. (especially as Tony Stark); I don't understand why people have a problem with ScarJo in the role; I especially don't understand why people have a problem with Jeremy Renner (it's not his fault his character was in a coma for half the running time). Besides, if anyone was having a breakout movie, it was Tom Hiddleston, so clearly relishing the narrow pettiness of his particular goal. Will we ever not fall for that? Solid B+.

P.S. I do feel bad for Cobie Smoulders, as I don't think anyone had a kind word to say about her in the role or even about the role's existence. Probably because it was flatter than flat.

P.P.S Those aren't shawarmas.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Your Reality Isn't Real: Sucker Punch (2011) and Source Code (2011)

I'm just going to issue a blanket SPOILER ALERT now, okay? Okay.

Sucker Punch

I used to think that I knew the difference between a good trailer for a good movie and what's simply a good trailer, but Sucker Punch (and, subsequently, Priest) proved me wrong. Well, not "wrong," exactly. It's not like I thought that Sucker Punch was going to be some kind of masterpiece. I thought it would be stupid and fun, and it turned out to be only one of those things.

Props where props are due: the wordless opening is the movie's high point. It's scary, atmospheric, and moving in all the right ways. And then her horrible step-father? guardian? lawyer? hauls her off to the insane asylum. Now, right away we hit an issue for me: I get that she's aggrieved, but just keep shooting, okay? The bad man wants to hurt you, so keep shooting until the gun runs out of bullets.

Our protagonist (Emily Browning) doesn't have a name at this point, just a nickname she picks up further down the rabbit hole. And since that nickname is Baby Doll, I'm not all that inclined to use it. Lacking better options . . .

As a result of the abuse heaped upon her in Level 1 (asylum, a.k.a reality), Baby Boll creates Level 2 (cabaret). I want to be very clear about this: Level 2 exists in Baby Doll's mind. It's an escape. So you might think that it would be, in some way, an improvement over the first level. It's not. It's better lit and possibly cleaner, but it's in no way better. Instead of being abused by the employees of the asylum, the girls are sex slaves at a cabaret/burlesque club.

That's where Level 3 (anime/WWII mash-up) comes in. Because of all the sex slavery, Baby Doll creates a third level within her mind. The movie is very clear that Baby Doll knows it isn't real and can enter this level of her own volition. It's all sailor scouts and dragons and zombies, which is pretty cool. A movie still filled with gaping plot holes and random infantilization, but I guess an elite squad of modern day Amazons can't be perfect. Here's the the part that I don't follow. Level 1 is horrible, so she needs an escape. Level 3 exists within her mind, and she has the power to access it. So why does the equally horrible in-betweener Level 2 even exist? Beyond giving Oscar Isaac something to do, that is. He's fantastic as dirty David Krumholtz, but that's neither here nor there.

Two reasons. One has to do with the plot, and the other reason, which I suspect is of greater significance, has to do with objectification. See, when people are unjustly institutionalized and abused, you feel bad about objectifying them. Same goes for the cabaret. They're being forced to dance (only dance, in Baby Doll's case, though it's a metaphor), but she still needs to escape the escape of her own creation. So she goes to another world where everyone is still in skimpy costumes. On the plus side, they know kung fu. So when they're running around in short skirts and garters and skin-tight everything with a samurai sword or bazooka, you don't have to feel as bad about objectifying them because they're empowered (except for the part where they're not) and because hey, it's not real anyway.

It's Level 3 and Level 3 ALONE that Baby Doll gets the instructions/picks up the tools to help her escape the cabaret. At the very end of the movie, we find out that they were actually using them on Level 1 to escape the asylum like it's some big significant REVEAL. But we already know that Level 2 doesn't exist, so it must bear some relationship to Level 1 or else what's the point of everything we just watched. Maybe I put too much stock in the audience's intelligence, but I'm pretty sure if the girls ran around picking up a map, fire, a knife, and a key in Level 3, we could guess what they would be used for. But then we'd have to watch them escape (and in some cases die) in the grungy real world instead of the bustiers and sparkly tights of Cabaret Land, so we'd be right back to feeling guilty about the objectification. As reasons for getting away with leering at pretty young things go, that's pretty gross.

The worst of it is that I think Zack Synder's a fairly talented visual stylist, so I wish I could go to his house with my crayons and construction paper and storyboard a simple tale for him (like how in the world I found his house in the first place). At the end, I would say, "And that's a narrative," and it would blow his mind. But until then, his fundamental lack of storytelling skill will never make up for his letting his fanboy salivating run wild. Down, boy. D

When I saw Source Code, I thought it was the movie Sucker Punch should have been. Which I realize doesn't make sense on its face with the terrorism and the using someone else's memory and the 8 minutes, but it's there nonetheless. Source Code is about putting a guy into a situation that ends violently every time and daring him to find a way out limited resources and a whole lot of imagination.

Since that guy is played by Jake Gyllenhaal, you've got a delightful amount of imagination on display. When you pair him with Michelle Monaghan, you get a nice little lesson in chemistry as a bonus.

The movie has this fantastic built in cheat: because they need Captain Colter Stevens (love that name) to stop an imminent terrorist threat, they don't have time for his questions or his Swiss cheese memory. It's 24 by way of Quantum Leap, and Dr. Samuel Beckett himself gets a voice cameo complete with signature catchphrase. The "they" in question is Vera Farmiga and Jeffrey Wright, who shows up to say stuff like, "The mind is like a light bulb," which makes just enough sense that you think, "I get that . . . wait, what?" BOOM! The bomb goes off, and we start all over.

Unfortunately, the movie doesn't go quite go like gangbusters, and gangbusters is what you need in this situation. There's time-outs for pseudo-science, and eventually Monaghan runs out of new ways to say, "I took your advice. It was very good advice," without making you want to slap someone.

And then. Oh, boy, and then. It's not that Gyllenhaal couldn't earn that conclusion though sheer force of charisma, and it's not that the movie as a whole doesn't do a far better job of earning its happy ending than The Adjustment Bureau. It's that I can't figure out what makes Captain Colter Stevens better than the rest of us or what will happen next. If I could find the pulse of one of those ideas, I might let the other one go, but I can't on either point. I don't feel like they broke free and created a new mirror world (the bean, the bean, always back to the bean). I feel like they created a cycle that will carry forward every time America faces such a crisis. Send in Captain Colter Stevens (can't stop saying it) and his wily imagination, and he will get to Farmiga every time. She'll let him alter reality every time. And there he will be, loose, stealing yet another life from someone who . . . ceases to exist? No, seriously, where is Sean Fentress? Is he trapped inside while Colter Stevens gets the girl, à la Being John Malkovich? Or is dead dead in any reality? And how is Stevens going to fake being a middle school history teacher? Doesn't Fentress have a family and friends who will notice a significant shift in his personality? Don't show me a movie that wants me to think then tell me stop thinking beyond the end credits.

There's a read on this movie as an inferior product to director Duncan Jones' last offering, Moon (in fairness, he didn't pen this one). It's the same story of multiples and doing a job you can't fully understand, guided by a voice that may or may not have your best interests at heart. But what it makes up for in explosions, it somehow loses in plot. It sounds obvious, but setting the story in the future is a pretty good way to get the audience to suspend disbelief. If they had picked up the pace a little and dropped some of the malarkey, they probably would have gotten away with it. B

Monday, June 06, 2011

X-Men: First Class (2011)

Though he may have directed the lackluster Kick-Ass, Michael Vaughn was also responsible for Layer Cake, and it's hard not to imagine he had creating the next Bond in mind while polyglot Michael Fassbender slinks through exotic locales, his impeccably tailored ensembles never quite concealing the malice in his movements. X-Men: First Class isn't quite the Magneto movie we were once promised, but it's awfully close.

Of course, Erik Lehnsherr isn't the only character whose origins we must explore this time around. Charles Xavier as able-bodied womanizer gets play, too, and James McAvoy is having a helluva time doing it. His delight in his fellow mutant is as genuine as it is joyful, and none makes him more so than his new bestie.

But since this movie isn't X-Men: Besties, Erik and Charles have to pick up a few friends along the way. Hank McCoy (Nicholas Hoult) and Raven (Jennifer Lawrence) acquit themselves well (particularly Hoult, whose American accent is flawless), but the rest threaten to disappear into a two dimensional melting pot of "ooo, look, powers!" (Is Riptide mute?) Combined with a slightly too long running time and a bizarrely paced trilogy,* the flaws keep the superb performances from transcending the movie. B+

*SPOILER ALERT Here's what I mean by bizarrely-paced trilogy: EVERYTHING happens in this movie. Magneto branches off on his own, Charles loses the use of his legs, Hank turns blue . . . it just makes me wonder what's left. Wouldn't you have the Charles/Erik relationship dissolve in part 2 and come to a head in part 3?

Also, and this is unrelated, hiding out at your own house is pretty obvious. Where ever will they look?

UPDATE: I meant to say that I also saw The Hangover Part II this weekend and can tell you with near-certainty that you would be far better off renting The Hangover than paying to see that garbage in the theatre.

Monday, May 16, 2011

Thor (2011)

I was more confused than excited when it was announced that Kenneth Branagh would be directing Thor. The fact that he didn't cast himself in it was a positive sign, but the trailer and tv spots made the movie look more dull than anything else. Though it's not a top shelf Marvel adaptation (not as sprightly as Iron Man or as deliciously weird and weighty as Spider-Man 2), the movie's pretty good. Don't bother with the 3D, though; at one point I asked my viewing companion if anything was even in 3D. Maybe Mjölnir came at us at some point?

What took me by surprise was how much I like Thor, the character. Here's the thing about the god of war: he's remarkably angst-free. Sure, some stuff gets him down, but he bounces back awfully quickly. He's not a orphan, nothing tragic happens to give him his abilities or drive, he wastes no time in adapting to Earth, and, when he likes a girl, he just goes ahead and lets her know. None of this "can't be with you in order to protect you" malarkey. He learns a few necessary lessons, and it's all derry-doing from there on out. He's practically Errol Flynn, if Errol Flynn were a giant war-mongering Labrador retriever. Depending on who you read, Chris Hemsworth is either serviceable or turning in a star-making performance. I was going to tell you to split the difference to find something closer to the truth, but, given how much I like the role, a good part of that must be down to Hemsworth (or as I initially typed, "The Hemsworth"). I should just admit that I love that big slab of beefcake. Seriously, though, he is huge.

Juxtaposing him with teeny Natalie Portman makes for an effective sight gag, but it's the lovely way that serious scientist Jane Foster comes undone by the courtly colossus that really makes the relationship (and the movie) tick. Stellan Skarsgård is equally up for some good old fashioned Norse fun, and I bet he had plenty of Viking advice to pass on the Hemsworth, given that he is the father of one. The vision of Asagard as a 1930s golden wonderland presided over by Anthony Hopkins is just icing.

Though it could do with a little more substance, it's a decent first outing and an excellent addition to the rapidly expanding Marvel movie universe. B

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

The Adjustment Bureau (2011) and Never Let Me Go (2010)

When David Norris (Matt Damon)'s Senate campaign goes belly up because he mooned his frat brothers at a college reunion, it's hard to believe that the State of New York would be so deeply offended. It's not exactly like they have the best taste in morally upright politicians. Still, Damon sells the crushing knowledge that the election is over long before the media calls it, so, when he meets cute with Elise (Emily Blunt) in the men's room before he gives his concession speech, it's not hard to believe that he would get this buzzed from something positive happening in his life.

The movie lives or dies by this meeting. Either you buy that these two attractive people, high on the unlikeliness of the situation, pheromones, and maybe something more, would get this intimate with each other this quickly, or you don't. Fortunately Damon and Blunt's chemistry is palpable, so it's easy to buy.

The next bridge this movie has to sell you is its premise of a group of nattily attired men who make "adjustments" that help guide people toward their destinies. Since one is Anthony Mackie and one is John Slattery, it's not so bad. When David accidentally sees too much, they level with him but caution him to carry their secret to his grave and to stay away from Elise. The former proves a lot easier than the latter.

Again, this isn't so hard to believe or follow, but longer it goes on, the more ridiculousness writer-director George Nolfi has to pile on, and the further away the movie strays from credulity. Suddenly David's a fool for love and Mackie's a Magical Negro and Elise is a damsel in distress. All of this could be tolerated if not for the complete cop out that is the ending. Associate Producer Eric Kripke, I'm looking at you.

The cop out put me in mind of last year's Never Let Me Go, which featured a similarly doomed couple kept apart by forces beyond their control. For the most part, those "forces" are Ruth (Keira Knightley), though there's a lot stacked against Kathy (Carey Mulligan) and Tommy (Andrew Garfield). Mostly that they are (SPOILER) clones grown for their vital organs.

Though director Mark Romanek's yellow tinted lens does it best to draw you into the hazy half lives of our protagonists, it's difficult -- especially after the fact -- not to ask basic questions like, "Why don't they just run away?" Maybe that idea is better addressed in the novel, but there's no reason here why they accept their fate.

The prevailing air of fatalism doesn't stop the movie from being affective nonetheless, particularly early on when the school received a "bumper crop" (that's a punch to the gut) and later when Kathy and Tommy finally, finally, finally get out from under Ruth's thumb. Her reason why is so obvious that when she says it, "durr" seems the appropriate response, but the spark of hope it lights in the others carries over to the audience. The ending's not quite as crushing as it should be, but it's close and certainly a blueprint for what Nolfi et al. should have done. The Adjustment Bureau, B; Never Let Me Go, B+.

In other news:

The Adjustment Bureau did make me think about how people always say that Slattery gets all the best lines on Mad Men and how it's not fair, but c'mon. His delivery is the best in the business. He makes "son of a bitch" a laugh line.
Never Let Me Go: the song of the title, if you're interested.

Monday, March 21, 2011

The Lincoln Lawyer, Paul, and Limitless (all 2011)

The Lincoln Lawyer

I'll admit, however much I should be embarrassed about this, that I was most excited to see The Lincoln Lawyer this weekend. I'm no Matthew McConaughey fan. Heck, I'm not even a McConaughey apologist. But I do remember a time when there was a chance McConaughey might make a good movie instead of, say, The Wedding Planner, and that chance was roughly 15 years ago, so it's good to see that guy back again.

Because, between this and A Time to Kill, is there anything he does better than lawyer? He's so damn charming as a unscrupulous defense attorney because, hey, even scum deserve the full measure of the law that you root for him. You root for him because McConaughey makes it clear that there's a man behind the charlatan. Of course, he doesn't keep his shirt on the entire time (the 80s are making a comeback), but it's a step in the right direction.

Sadly, Ryan Phillippe took a step in the wrong direction, away from acting and toward smirking, as did the ad department by including a near final scene in the trailer.

Still, the movie deserves full points for the way everything, just everything, comes together in the end (even the walking 50s anachronism), and for the way this is not a redemption story. Don't get me wrong -- McConaughey's Mick struggles to put right an injustice over the course of the film. But he doesn't turn into a better, decent, pro-bono for the poor lawyer or any such thing in the end. He deals with the specifics of this case and moves on. I like that. I didn't like the spiny camera of insanity, but I liked that. B

Paul

I wasn't sure entirely what to expect from Paul except that Pegg + Frost - Wright would never be as good as Pegg + Frost + Wright. No offense to Pegg and Frost, who are delightful, but Wright's visual wizardry not only adds panache to the proceedings but mines every aspect of comedy so that the visual isn't just a delivery mechanism. Director Greg Mottola, whose work I liked for Superbad, doesn't bring it in the same way here.

I don't know how to put this except to say that it's just not that funny. It is funny, there are laughs, but there's no hysterical "did you see/hear that" arm-clutching action. There's more like smiling, guffawing, nodding funny. Part of it is that the script is smart without being particularly clever in its ribbing (fundamentalists = broad side of barn, but the devil's in the details on that one), and the other part is the direction/cinematography/editing doesn't fully support it.

What surprised me was how much I liked Seth Rogen's voice work, especially after The Green Hornet practically threw me into fits. His anger is toned down, and, without the teddy bear exterior, a greater nuance of emotion gets through. It's very sweet, really, how this goofy, fun-loving, chain smokin' alien just wants to get home. And can't drive. B

Limitless

There's a time and a place for that bane of my movie existence, narration, and Limitless is almost entirely it. It's hard for us to understand exactly how NZT functions just by watching Eddie (Bradley Cooper), other than knowing it's Adderall times a million, without him explaining that he's not wired, just focused. Stop for science: you already use all of your brain (just not consciously), and being able to cut down distractions wouldn't necessarily give you the ability to understand everything. Science break over.

Cooper is perfectly cast as a smugly handsome overachiever, though he starts out in sad-sack Will mode: a struggling, scraggly writer who bumps his ex-brother-in-law (Johnny Whitworth, aka A.J. from Empire Records, who's apparently been in other things I've seen over the years without my noticing) during a particularly low moment and naturally gets hooked on a drug that, at the very least, makes him feel limitless. When said ex-BIL ends up with a bullet in his head, Eddie grabs the drugs and gets out, but it's really only a matter of time before the same fate catches up to him.

Of course, how he gets there involves some camera work and murky storytelling I could have done without, so it's not perfect. It's fluff: well cast fluff but fluff nonetheless. A little more emotional heft, and we could have gotten there. Ah, well. At least I like Abbie Cornish now. B-

Friday, February 11, 2011

Pop Culture Round-Up: January 29 - February 11, 2011

Tyranny of the Alphabet - By Timothy Noah - Slate Magazine
You might be like, "Huh?" but, as a Y, let me tell you that I read this entire thing nodding and going, "This is SO TRUE." Also very disappointing for five year-old me to learn that you never get over it even if you change your name since as I child I truly thought that marrying someone whose name came higher up (look, even that!) in the alphabet was my ticket to happiness.

A Golden Age of Foreign Films, Mostly Unseen - NYTimes.com
Aw, I see them! Also, Carlos is really long. Less so when you realize that it was originally a two-parter, but still.

Narcissus Regards a Book - The Chronicle Review - The Chronicle of Higher Education
Hmm, I don't actually remember why I wanted to read this, so it will be surprise to all of us.

The Tyee – Frugging Lycanthropes! - The Sadies make the great Canadian music video.
How could dancing werewolves not be a good thing?

Separating Fact From Film - WSJ.com
It's time for Black Swan backlash, no?

CBC News - Books - Canada Reads names 2011 winner
It is sadly not there any longer, but this article was originally published with the subhead (and I am not making this up): SPOILER ALERT: Prize winner revealed below. I'm spoiler-averse, but are things so off-kilter that articles clearly announcing winners need spoiler alerts? WARNING: This article contains news!

‘Black Swan’ Deconstructed, Film’s Many Faces - NYTimes.com
And there it is. Odd, because even as I was watching it I thought an apropos subtitle would be "Nina's failure to orgasm," but I didn't make the link, "And also sexism."

FFWD - Calgary Screen - Film Features - Romantic movies for the fellas
Or the Aprils.

FFWD - Calgary Screen - Film Features - Rom-com romp
I haven't seen four out of five, so let's talk about numero cinq. Lars and the Real Girl should totally make you barf. It's cute enough while you are watching it but not cute enough to stop you from thinking that what Lars is doing isn't radical therapy. His "solution" to ending his surrogate relationship -- so that he can have a real one -- is to kill his girlfriend. That's not going to help him having happy, functioning relationships in the future. His prospective human girlfriend should run for the hills.

'Twilight' Writer Melissa Rosenberg Takes Over Summit's 'Highlander' Script (Exclusive) - Heat Vision
As my best friend put it when she sent this link to me, "Best. News. Ever." But how can anyone improve on the Kurgan?

1968-75: How 'X-Rated' Became Synonymous With 'Porn' - James Fallows - Culture - The Atlantic
X-rated is so overrated.

Friday, January 28, 2011

"I jest, I jive!"

Yet another petty grievance with IMDb's redesign: instead of showing you the quote that contains the keyword for which you have searched, you only get the matching titles. Then you have to go dig the quote out yourself. From hundreds of returns. Like that's useful. No one does a search to make their lives more complicated. Eff, that is stupid.

Not what we're here to talk about though. Two things: 1) check out my latest Culture article, "The January Movie," in which I set out the find the best of the traditionally terrible movies that come out this month. 2) This here blog is seven (7!) today. While the number of posts have been on a steady decline over the years, in part because recapping tv shows over on Culture's blog is pretty dang time consuming, and it would be narcissistic and not terribly accurate to say that my writing has improved, I can say that I'm still going to see way more movies than someone who isn't getting paid to should and that I'm still writing about them. I can say that. If you've been sticking with me regardless of where I pop up, thank you.

Now I'm off to buy bloggy something made out of wood or copper or a desk set. A wood and copper desk set?

Pop Culture Round Up: January 15 - January 28, 2011

Getting GG with it :: Film :: VUE Weekly
I initially though this was about the GGs (the literary award kind), but it turns out to be about filmmaking. Cool!

Maisonneuve | Portraits of a Changing Paris
Largely because I just went there.

Two spaces after a period: Why you should never, ever do it. - By Farhad Manjoo - Slate Magazine
I couldn't agree more.

Vulture Critics’ Poll: What’s the Worst Movie of 2010? -- Vulture
The best part is the individual ballots where you find outliers, often movies that are ignored or even well regarded, but one critic just hated.

Speak the speech ... Shakespeare's plays to be performed in 38 languages | Culture | The Guardian

Directors: Directors on directing - latimes.com

Roger Ebert: Film Criticism Is Dying? Not Online - WSJ.com
What can I say? This is a perpetual concern of mine.

When it comes to humour, we live in funny times - The Globe and Mail

Adam Haslett on Stanley Fish's How To Write a Sentence. - By Adam Haslett - Slate Magazine

The strange trajectory of Hollywood movies: Fizzling in U.S. but skyrocketing overseas | The Big Picture | Los Angeles Times
"But he's big in Japan!"

BoyGirls who like GirlBoys :: Film :: VUE Weekly
Underrepresented.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

The Social Network (2010) and The King's Speech (2010)

There's talk in some parts that The Social Network's triumph over The King's Speech at the Golden Globes is some kind of referendum on the middlebrow melodrama. When I first started cooking up The Underrated List, "middlebrow melodrama" was my initial M. While I wouldn't go back and change my entry now, they -- specifically historical* ones -- hold a special place in my movie going heart.

That said, The Social Network is a better movie than The King's Speech. It's already gone through two backlashes (1. that it's not factual, which I addressed here; 2. that it's sexist, which I would argue is true of the characters but not the filmmakers) and continued apace, surely a noteworthy fact. But the thing that really sets The Social Network apart from The King's Speech is every element is brilliant.

It seems kind of unnecessary at this point to sing the praises of the movie, given the acclaim it's received since its October 1 release, but I'm going to anyway. Most of it should go to Jesse Eisenberg, who I had previously written off as Michael Cera-lite. Confidential to Jesse: I couldn't have been more wrong. I had no idea that you had the depth of character or the talent to play a sympathetic asshole. In your care, Mark Zuckerberg is borderline autistic in his inability to foresee the impact he has on those closest to him, but he's also a ruthless genius who's deeply, deeply sad. And, thanks to Aaron Sorkin, quite quippy.

Of course, it helps that he's drowning in talent, whether it's Andrew Garfield's Eduardo Saverin (the closest the movie comes to having a moral centre, he's presented as more short-sighted than anything else), Armie Hammer (whose ability to come play the the physically-imposing twins as separate and distinct is a sight to be cherished), and Justin Timberlake's Sean Parker. Up until I saw this movie, I had no real interest in JT, especially as an actor, but now . . . let me quote: "early Facebook President Sean Parker, devastatingly portrayed by Justin Timberlake as a narcissistic clown." That is so true!

Again, though the combination of noted internet hater Aaron Sorkin + David Fincher + Facebook sounds like a recipe for disaster, it's anything but. Fincher's dark Harvard hallways add verve to Sorkin's trademark snappy dialogue, and Trent Reznor's buzzy score elevates the movie to a place that feels raw and modern, edgy in the season of being on the edge of something. Bracing, even. I was going to say that Angus Wall and Kirk Baxter's editing is the only stuff that could give Inception a run for its money come Oscar time, but, since Inception wasn't even nominated (wtf?!), I guess I'll just keep that to myself.

So why does all that make The Social Network better than The King's Speech? Because TKS, for all it's fantastic performances, is nothing more than that: a collection of fantastic performances. Certainly, if Colin Firth doesn't win every award ever I am going to throw a fit, but after that . . . there's nothing spectacular about Tom Hooper's direction or David Seidler's script and, the less said about Alexandre Desplat's score, the better. The Social Network, A; The King's Speech, B+.

*Confession: As I just learned what period piece means last week, I intentionally did not use it here. Turns out that term is reserved for pieces that were written during the period in which they are set. Did you realize that? I thought it was just an alliterative way to call something historical.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

True Grit (2010) and Winter's Bone (2010)

The problem with seeing a movie that critics you trust call the best movie of the year is that you expect it to be the BEST. EVER! Ah, expectations. They get ya every time.

Winter's Bone is an exceptional movie. It's small and quiet and down to the bone harrowing. Jennifer Lawrence's star-marking performance betrays not a hint of vulnerability because Ree just can't. She can't, so she doesn't. Watching her make stew is a lesson in keeping your back straight, never mind combing the meth ravaged Ozarks for any sign of her father, lest her family lose the home he put up to secure a bond.

Though with significantly less screen time to work with, it's hard not heap praise on John Hawkes as the improbably named Teardrop. Maybe I'm just predisposed to like Hawkes (Deadwood forever!), but I doubt it. Teardrop is no Sol Star. For a man to grab a gun rather than let Teardrop to approach him "naked" and for Hawkes to earn that just by standing there, it's scary how naturally that kind of weight comes to him. If the movie hasn't already, his last line will break you all the way down.

Perhaps what's most striking is the way co-writer and director Debra Granik handles this all so patiently and levelly. The movie's on Ree's side, to be sure, but Granik manages to give even ladies who are more like feral cats than humans a certain legitimacy. There's little judgment here. It's a pocket of the US that's held up for inspection, yes, but it's not for mockery. Some things just are. Ree's life just is. It's how she deals with that that makes her, and the movie, transcendent. A-

It was next to impossible to sit in the theatre and not think of the similarly-themed True Grit. Of course, Mattie (Haliee Steinfeld) wants to see her father's killer brought to justice while Ree could give two craps about any such thing, but it's still there: the unforgiving landscape, the quest, the less than perfect assistance. Mattie's burdens are considerably less yet her persistence remains the same.

I hereby elect the Coens to direct every new western from here on out (for what was No Country for Old Men if not a western?), and I further recommend Jeff Bridges to star in each subsequent output. His voice dropped, craggy and old, Bridges' Rooster Cogburn is a mess. He's drunk and lazy, and he always, always shoots first. Somehow -- and it's a testament to Bridges' bottomless talent -- he's still a man you want on your side.

I feel like it's almost unfair of me to give True Grit extra points for Roger Deakins' expansive, arid cinematography or Matt Damon's total hilarity as an effete Texas Ranger or Barry Pepper reminding me of Ben Foster in 3:10 to Yuma and making me forget about him, but I don't feel bad about loving Carter Burwell's mournful score. Burwell just might be my favourite composer working today.

But mostly, it gets extra points for managing to inject humour in the stark, desolate, adult world into which Mattie is thrust and must survive with her will intact. A

Friday, January 14, 2011

Pop Culture Round Up: Some day - Janaury 14, 2011

This is the last one of these that was just sitting here unclaimed with no idea why I bookmarked these articles. Hopefully it will be the last.

Ayelet Waldman, Author of Bad Mother and Red Hook Road, on Writing Well - WSJ.com

The Professor of Small Movies - NYTimes.com

On a borderless internet, how will we nurture Canadian content? : This Magazine

CBC News - Music - Dylan's lyrics to protest anthem for sale

CultureLab: Secret Cinema: Exploring mental health first-hand

Well, Hush My Mouth: Congress Is Moving Against LOUD Ads - WSJ.com

Their Pain, Our Gain: Why Schadenfreude Is Best Enjoyed in Groups: Scientific American

Black Swan explained

The End Of Movie Projectionists?

The digital revolution: Film - thestar.com

Two films, two sex scenes, two different ratings - latimes.com

Why Religious People Tend to Be Happier

Nuns gone wild - The Boston Globe

“Craving Corrie” by Danielle Groen | The Walrus

Actresses over 40 on a box office roll - latimes.com

Views: That's Offensive! - Inside Higher Ed

Face Memory Peaks Late : Discovery News

Attention Restoration Theory Taps Nature's Medicine | Miller-McCune.

Get your shiz together! - EYE WEEKLY

Why Criticism Matters - Editors’ Introduction - NYTimes.com

Mailbag: Readers on Criticism - NYTimes.com

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Easy A (2010)

Emma Stone

A savvy high school student could have a field day unpacking all the references, far beyond The Scarlet Letter, in Easy A. A savvier women's studies student could do well to examine why all those references, from Olive's Ray-Bans on down, are to male characters.

This is not a knock against Emma Stone's breakout performance, which is the very definition of charming. In fact, it's next to impossible to watch the movie and not spend the next 20 minutes talking about how damn charming Stone is. Then you move on to discuss what delightfully loopy parents Patricia Clarkson and Stanley Tucci made ("I want them to be my parents!" you'll shout). Maybe you'll wonder if Penn Badgley can ever really shed Dan Humphrey (short answer: outlook good). But after awhile, all you're left with, "Wait, is she Ferris Buller?" and also, "Is selling the idea of sex any better than selling sex?"

Now, it's hard to begrudge her the former since Ferris Buller is the Platonic ideal of high school-hood. But the latter is a sticky, dirty, uncomfortable place that the movie refuses to go, just like it will nod in the general direction of a double standard for boys and girls in high school re: having sex and then refuses to follow that thought through to the end.

Someday, someday a movie might address those ideas (I hope, I pray, I . . . write?), but I guess I can settle for this delightful, if slight, romp for now. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go sing "Pocket Full of Sunshine" a million times. B+

P.S. Someone who looks like Stone would so get noticed in high school.

Black Swan (2010)

Natalie Portman

A dancer perfect to portray the White Swan loses her mind trying to develop the duality necessary to portray the Black Swan when she's cast as the Swan Queen.

As an over-boiled body horror thriller, this movie's aces. As much pretty anything else, not so much. I must admit I was disappointed to see that Darren Aronofsky's Black Swan is merely good, not a masterpiece. He certainly tries hard: all the close ups of toes en pointe or even Nina (Natalie Portman) and her mother (Barbara Hershey) ripping up and remaking her slippers hold a certain fascination for their insight into a world plagued by body issues, workplace sexual harassment, and cutthroat competition.

The movie's certainly spooky (rehearsal spaces have never looked so creepy), but it's too serious to be much else. If only it could, as Nina is repeatedly told to do, loosen up a little. There are a few moments of levity (Rothbart's casual backstage "hey" chief among them) that make me think that Aronofsky is this uptight deliberately. Which is a shame because it makes Portman's performance, captivating though it is, ever-so-slightly unsympathetic (if everyone you know tells you to assert yourself and you won't, how long can the audience root for you?).

Still, technical and acting props for the shudder-inducing swan transformation at the end and Clint Mansell's beautiful, frightening take on Tchaikovsky's timeless work. Mila Kunis and Winona Ryder are such hilarious bitches that I almost want to hug them, and Vincent Cassel is some sort of a genius for making me think that despite his abuse, he actually cares about helping Nina progress as a dancer.

As it is, the movie is more trashy than full-on camp but too plagued by its intense focus to be much of either. "Just like Nina!", you might defend, but tell the truth: would you really prefer a movie about the White Swan to the Black one? B