I had high hopes for Michael Mann’s Public Enemies (2009). Maybe too high. But he’s one of the best directors out there: “Heat” (1995), “The Insider” (1999), “Manhunter” (1986) and “Last of the Mohicans” (1992) all are grade-A entertainment.
So, I’m left perplexed at this new gangster film from the great Mann and his brilliant cinematographer Dante Spinotti (who lensed the above Mann films, plus the wonderful “L.A. Confidential”). And how could it go wrong: The film follows famed bank robber and killer John Dillinger (Johnny Depp) as he does his thing, one or two steps ahead of the law (Christian Bale as FBI agent Melvin Purvis and a near-unrecognizable Billy Crudup as J. Edgar Hoover).
The sound, the costumes, the look of this film all demand Oscars, and if won, rightfully deserve them. The shoot outs have the visceral boldness of “Heat,” although the shoot-outs here still can’t match the jaw-dropping stunts of that classic DeNiro/Pacino caper. The acting is tops for the most part, although I never felt Johnny Depp’s Dillinger is a deadly sum-a-bitch to be feared.
The deal is we never get inside the head of Dillinger - - why’d he do all this? -- or Purvis (Bale is stoic and great). What “Heat” had, and “Public Enemies” doesn’t, is the absolute dangerous joy of mastermind criminals doing what they do best, and the lawmen who dedicate themselves to crashing the party. The shock of watching a man who steals and kills for a living, and laughs at the thought of his own death, ought to kick you in the stomach while it dazzles your eyes. “Public Enemies” merely gooses. B
Monday, August 31, 2009
Last House on the Left (2009)
I don’t think I got a full half-hour into “Last House on the Left,” a sadistic, nasty film that takes great lengths to show one teenage girl being gutted and another young woman be methodically raped. With the camera at ground level. I guess I’m not cut out to watch every film. If you can stomach it, let me know how. Or why. No Grade
Fargo (1996)
The Coen Brothers, whom I eternally adore, should have won an armful of Oscars for “Fargo,” a most excellent and most bleak comedy/thriller that doubles as a morality play so good, you could play it in church. If your place of worship allowed the screening of films were men are fed to a wood chipper. (Hey, it’s not like “Exodus” is squeaky clean, people. Roll with me.)
Set in northern Midwest, “Fargo” follows a loser car salesman named Jerry Lundegaard (William H. Macy) who hires two criminals (Steve Buscemi and Peter Stormare) to kidnap his wife in order to get a ransom from his rich father-in-law. Even Buscemi’s dim bulb doesn’t get that device, asking: “Why not just borrow the money?” As Mutt and Jeff later flee with the kidnapped wife, they kill three people on an icy length of North Dakota highway. Thus enters whip-smart local Marge Gunderson (Frances McDormand, who napped an Oscar) as a hugely pregnant police officer investigating the deaths.
The Coen Brothers clearly have their tongues firmly planted in cheek for most of this “true story” that plays like a grisly ode to Hitchcock’s best, and a satire of greed and stupidity. But damn if they don’t play the neatest card trick by having Marge and her painter husband (John Carroll Lynch of “Zodiac”) be the pinnacle of a moral, loving middle-aged couple. And then Marge gets to deliver a lecture on the senseless violence and greed that makes up much of the 90 minutes of plot. This kind of film can’t be duplicated. And many have tried. It was my favorite film of 1996.
The whole cast is top notch, but it’s Macy who stands out in a role that should have won him an Oscar. His Jerry is a clueless weasel who’s drowned even before he jumps into the swimming pool. And, yet, Macy makes it impossible to hate the man. His frantic emergency call to the old man is hilarious. A
Set in northern Midwest, “Fargo” follows a loser car salesman named Jerry Lundegaard (William H. Macy) who hires two criminals (Steve Buscemi and Peter Stormare) to kidnap his wife in order to get a ransom from his rich father-in-law. Even Buscemi’s dim bulb doesn’t get that device, asking: “Why not just borrow the money?” As Mutt and Jeff later flee with the kidnapped wife, they kill three people on an icy length of North Dakota highway. Thus enters whip-smart local Marge Gunderson (Frances McDormand, who napped an Oscar) as a hugely pregnant police officer investigating the deaths.
The Coen Brothers clearly have their tongues firmly planted in cheek for most of this “true story” that plays like a grisly ode to Hitchcock’s best, and a satire of greed and stupidity. But damn if they don’t play the neatest card trick by having Marge and her painter husband (John Carroll Lynch of “Zodiac”) be the pinnacle of a moral, loving middle-aged couple. And then Marge gets to deliver a lecture on the senseless violence and greed that makes up much of the 90 minutes of plot. This kind of film can’t be duplicated. And many have tried. It was my favorite film of 1996.
The whole cast is top notch, but it’s Macy who stands out in a role that should have won him an Oscar. His Jerry is a clueless weasel who’s drowned even before he jumps into the swimming pool. And, yet, Macy makes it impossible to hate the man. His frantic emergency call to the old man is hilarious. A
Duplicity (2009)
In “Duplicity,” Clive Owen and Julia Roberts play operatives for, respectively, MI-6 and the CIA, who meet not-so-cute in the film’s opening, have sex, and years later end up involved on opposite sides of a multi-million dollar game of cat-and-mouse between two giant health care products companies. Or, so it all seems. Tony Gilroy’s film is a game a spry one-lines and one-uppers, quite the opposite from the burning-down-the-house drama “Michael Clayton” he made several years ago. The game here is on the varying characters and the audience. There’s a fractured time structure to this cute/funny film that’s not nearly as cute/funny as Gilroy thinks it is, and one never forgets that we’re watching actors play variations of countless past parts. The real fun must have been had off camera. Rome actually looks better here than it did in true life. B-
Nick and Nora’s Infinite Playlist (2008)
“Nick and Nora’s Infinite Playlist” is a quick, quirky comedy about the genre I’ve previously said bores me silly: the boy-meets-girl teen comedy. Except it actually shakes the genre up, and delivers genuinely funny entertainment.
First, Nick (Michael Cera) and Nora (Kat Dennings) are by no means matinee idol stars of beauty and great, polished one-liners. There’s no eye-bleeding talk of soul mates or “hooking” up. Nor is there a case of mistaken identity, or any semblance of some bet that leads the super cool person to love the nerd. Rather, Nick and Nora meet and bicker and talk about their greatest respective love -- independent rock music – until romance sparks. That’s it. Simple and wonderful.
The entire film is built on Nick’s geeky awkwardness, and Nora’s need for him to just shut-up about an ex. This is the kind of flubbed flirting that any man or women who’s actually lived outside of Beverly Hills has made.
Filmed in fantastic New York locales that would never make it into a Kate Hudson film, “Nick and Nora” almost has an off-the-cuff approach that allows one to feel like they’re along for the ride, not just spectator to unattainable beautifully lit models with perfect teeth. Oh, the soundtrack is cool. Even for a guy who can’t recall the last time he listened to the radio. B+
First, Nick (Michael Cera) and Nora (Kat Dennings) are by no means matinee idol stars of beauty and great, polished one-liners. There’s no eye-bleeding talk of soul mates or “hooking” up. Nor is there a case of mistaken identity, or any semblance of some bet that leads the super cool person to love the nerd. Rather, Nick and Nora meet and bicker and talk about their greatest respective love -- independent rock music – until romance sparks. That’s it. Simple and wonderful.
The entire film is built on Nick’s geeky awkwardness, and Nora’s need for him to just shut-up about an ex. This is the kind of flubbed flirting that any man or women who’s actually lived outside of Beverly Hills has made.
Filmed in fantastic New York locales that would never make it into a Kate Hudson film, “Nick and Nora” almost has an off-the-cuff approach that allows one to feel like they’re along for the ride, not just spectator to unattainable beautifully lit models with perfect teeth. Oh, the soundtrack is cool. Even for a guy who can’t recall the last time he listened to the radio. B+
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Inglourious Basterds (2009)
The last line of Quentin Tarantino’s “Inglourious Basterds” has a Southern hick-accented Brad Pitt -- with the utmost confidence and swagger -- exclaiming: “This may be my masterpiece.” He makes this brag staring directly at the audience. The screen goes black. It pauses. Then the now-legendary orange-font credit rolls; “Written and Directed by Quentin Tarantino.”
Wow. Only the man who made “Pulp Fiction” and “Reservoir Dogs” – two of the most defining movies of the 1990s – could have the nerve to end a film like that. And, yet, “Basterds” (the misspelling is on purpose) goes one further: **SPOILERS AHEAD** It literally re-creates history. In this World War II film, not only are there no gun battles or tanks or dogfights, but the entire Third Reich is slaughtered, blown up, and set on fire by the film’s end. By Jewish soldiers. Dig this fellow History Channel junkies: A young Jewish-American soldier (played by Eli Roth, director of several horror films) literally takes a machine gun to Hitler’s face, and blows that toothbrush mustache to bloody, chunky bits. In up-close gory detail. This is a fantasy film, by Yahweh. (Roth has said as much in interviews, saying countless Jewish boys have wished they could personally kill the Fuhrer.) When you enter Tarantino’s world, he is God. And the projectionist.
Oh, and David Bowie is on the soundtrack. Of a World War II film. Again, wow.
Despite all this, “Basterds isn’t quite Tarantino’s masterpiece. But damn close. It’s climax has a few creaky spots as we get a few dozen repeated shots of 300-plus Nazis laughing and cheering at a propaganda sniper film made by Joseph Goebbels. (He dies, too. The way he should have.) Move on, already. As well, there’s not much depth here. Tarantino progressed in the second “Kill Bill” film with some emotional baggage that ruled over the groovy soundtrack, visuals and blood. This is brownie-deep entertainment. (I love brownies. Eating one right now, in fact. I may have two.) Lastly, Mike “Austin Powers” Myers has a WTF cameo that is laughable, but not in a good way.
Still, “Basterds” is pure Tarantino adrenaline and wonderful word play. I loved it. It’s also more seeped in Italian and European film genres then the typical American World War II action film, like say “The Dirty Dozen” – which this film directly pays homage. And for that, I also love it. The credits begin “Once upon a time in Nazi-occupied France…”, and sets off on some Sergio Leone (“Once Upon a Time in the West”) cues of enemy soldiers slowly coming up a dirt road, long but fascinating conversations, side quests that dead end, and furious bursts of shocking violence. The music of the great Ennio Morricone is sprinkled throughout to further the effect of its Spaghetti Western origins. This really is a foreign film, with the French, German and Italian languages taking up most of the 150-minute running time.
Pitt, billed as the lead, is not the film's focus. That crown, arguably, belongs to Christoph Waltz as Hans Landa, an uber-suave and giddy Nazi who’s Sherlock Holmes as re-imagined by Satan. Landa makes drinking a glass of milk as evil as anything seen on screen in years. Man deserves an Oscar. He owns this film. Landa (and Waltz) speaks four languages fluently, a gift which will thrash the final mission of our titular heroes.
“Basterds” opens with a quiet scene that has Landa visiting a French dairy farmer, and after an insanely long interrogation, he fingers the man for harboring a Jewish family. The secreted family is killed where they hide, except for the daughter (Melanie Laurent), who escapes in a frantic, blood-soaked mess. She runs off screaming in a scene that brings to mind Wyeth by way of Dante’s Inferno. Damn straight she’ll turn up again. We then get introduced to the Basterds, a group of American and German Jews in occupied France who drill their way through the Third Reich during a three-year tour. Pitt is Aldo Raine, the lead Basterd and Southern American hick who demands 100 “Nah-zee” scalps from his motley team. Roth plays the “Bear Jew,” a baseball-bat wielding Ted Williams fan. All these players, and Waltz will meet at film’s end. Along with a spastic Hitler that would make Mel Brooks proud.
“Basterds” is a film of dialogue. Tarantino is a jackpot writer. In a scene that kills off several off several main players, he has Americans, Brits, and Germans in a basement bar playing “Guess Who?” over drinks. Tarantino draws the scene waaaay out like taffy, until it becomes unbearable. The audience is waiting for something, anything, to happen as “King Kong” and good Scotch is discussed. At just the point where the scene grows almost tedious, guns are drawn, and a blink and you miss it bloodbath ensues. I want to watch the film again just to see how Tarantino manages to pull off these hat tricks of suspense, film worship, and comedy.
And hands down this is Tarantino’s funniest film, despite the backdrop of World War II and the Holocaust. In a highlight scene of suspense and comedy, Landa meets up with Raine, two Basterds, and a German actress/spy (Diane Kruger) at a cinema owned by none other than Laurent’s vengeance-seeking runaway. Attempting to pass as Italian filmmakers, our heroes’ accent mangling sends Landa – and the also audience – into uncontrollable laughter. Landa keeps asking the men to repeat everything they say three, four times. “Graht-zeee,” Pitt says, sucking in his lower lip. Unaware he’s been busted.
On top of all the capital “T” Tarantino moments, the keen kick-ass joy of “Basterds” is its re-writing of history. This is the first World War II film that I have ever seen where I did not know the ending. This is thrilling, nasty, and often funny ride into an unknown past that should have been. Like this year's "Star Trek." Hitler popped himself in an underground bunker? How dull. Why not shot the fucker down. The last scene is gory as hell, and hilarious.
“Inglourious Basterds” won’t recreate cinema the way “Pulp Fiction” did in 1994. It’s not that great. But it’s one of 2009’s best films, for sure. I hate that Tarantino – known for creating strong female characters - kills off his leading ladies in gruesome detail. But he worships these women nonetheless. Against a churning, writhing snake’s head of deathly smoke, Laurent’s dead cinema owner screams from the grave to the dying Third Reich that she is the face of Jewish anger and vengeance. Pretty damn glorious to me. A
Wow. Only the man who made “Pulp Fiction” and “Reservoir Dogs” – two of the most defining movies of the 1990s – could have the nerve to end a film like that. And, yet, “Basterds” (the misspelling is on purpose) goes one further: **SPOILERS AHEAD** It literally re-creates history. In this World War II film, not only are there no gun battles or tanks or dogfights, but the entire Third Reich is slaughtered, blown up, and set on fire by the film’s end. By Jewish soldiers. Dig this fellow History Channel junkies: A young Jewish-American soldier (played by Eli Roth, director of several horror films) literally takes a machine gun to Hitler’s face, and blows that toothbrush mustache to bloody, chunky bits. In up-close gory detail. This is a fantasy film, by Yahweh. (Roth has said as much in interviews, saying countless Jewish boys have wished they could personally kill the Fuhrer.) When you enter Tarantino’s world, he is God. And the projectionist.
Oh, and David Bowie is on the soundtrack. Of a World War II film. Again, wow.
Despite all this, “Basterds isn’t quite Tarantino’s masterpiece. But damn close. It’s climax has a few creaky spots as we get a few dozen repeated shots of 300-plus Nazis laughing and cheering at a propaganda sniper film made by Joseph Goebbels. (He dies, too. The way he should have.) Move on, already. As well, there’s not much depth here. Tarantino progressed in the second “Kill Bill” film with some emotional baggage that ruled over the groovy soundtrack, visuals and blood. This is brownie-deep entertainment. (I love brownies. Eating one right now, in fact. I may have two.) Lastly, Mike “Austin Powers” Myers has a WTF cameo that is laughable, but not in a good way.
Still, “Basterds” is pure Tarantino adrenaline and wonderful word play. I loved it. It’s also more seeped in Italian and European film genres then the typical American World War II action film, like say “The Dirty Dozen” – which this film directly pays homage. And for that, I also love it. The credits begin “Once upon a time in Nazi-occupied France…”, and sets off on some Sergio Leone (“Once Upon a Time in the West”) cues of enemy soldiers slowly coming up a dirt road, long but fascinating conversations, side quests that dead end, and furious bursts of shocking violence. The music of the great Ennio Morricone is sprinkled throughout to further the effect of its Spaghetti Western origins. This really is a foreign film, with the French, German and Italian languages taking up most of the 150-minute running time.
Pitt, billed as the lead, is not the film's focus. That crown, arguably, belongs to Christoph Waltz as Hans Landa, an uber-suave and giddy Nazi who’s Sherlock Holmes as re-imagined by Satan. Landa makes drinking a glass of milk as evil as anything seen on screen in years. Man deserves an Oscar. He owns this film. Landa (and Waltz) speaks four languages fluently, a gift which will thrash the final mission of our titular heroes.
“Basterds” opens with a quiet scene that has Landa visiting a French dairy farmer, and after an insanely long interrogation, he fingers the man for harboring a Jewish family. The secreted family is killed where they hide, except for the daughter (Melanie Laurent), who escapes in a frantic, blood-soaked mess. She runs off screaming in a scene that brings to mind Wyeth by way of Dante’s Inferno. Damn straight she’ll turn up again. We then get introduced to the Basterds, a group of American and German Jews in occupied France who drill their way through the Third Reich during a three-year tour. Pitt is Aldo Raine, the lead Basterd and Southern American hick who demands 100 “Nah-zee” scalps from his motley team. Roth plays the “Bear Jew,” a baseball-bat wielding Ted Williams fan. All these players, and Waltz will meet at film’s end. Along with a spastic Hitler that would make Mel Brooks proud.
“Basterds” is a film of dialogue. Tarantino is a jackpot writer. In a scene that kills off several off several main players, he has Americans, Brits, and Germans in a basement bar playing “Guess Who?” over drinks. Tarantino draws the scene waaaay out like taffy, until it becomes unbearable. The audience is waiting for something, anything, to happen as “King Kong” and good Scotch is discussed. At just the point where the scene grows almost tedious, guns are drawn, and a blink and you miss it bloodbath ensues. I want to watch the film again just to see how Tarantino manages to pull off these hat tricks of suspense, film worship, and comedy.
And hands down this is Tarantino’s funniest film, despite the backdrop of World War II and the Holocaust. In a highlight scene of suspense and comedy, Landa meets up with Raine, two Basterds, and a German actress/spy (Diane Kruger) at a cinema owned by none other than Laurent’s vengeance-seeking runaway. Attempting to pass as Italian filmmakers, our heroes’ accent mangling sends Landa – and the also audience – into uncontrollable laughter. Landa keeps asking the men to repeat everything they say three, four times. “Graht-zeee,” Pitt says, sucking in his lower lip. Unaware he’s been busted.
On top of all the capital “T” Tarantino moments, the keen kick-ass joy of “Basterds” is its re-writing of history. This is the first World War II film that I have ever seen where I did not know the ending. This is thrilling, nasty, and often funny ride into an unknown past that should have been. Like this year's "Star Trek." Hitler popped himself in an underground bunker? How dull. Why not shot the fucker down. The last scene is gory as hell, and hilarious.
“Inglourious Basterds” won’t recreate cinema the way “Pulp Fiction” did in 1994. It’s not that great. But it’s one of 2009’s best films, for sure. I hate that Tarantino – known for creating strong female characters - kills off his leading ladies in gruesome detail. But he worships these women nonetheless. Against a churning, writhing snake’s head of deathly smoke, Laurent’s dead cinema owner screams from the grave to the dying Third Reich that she is the face of Jewish anger and vengeance. Pretty damn glorious to me. A
Monday, August 24, 2009
10 Things I Hate About You (1999)
“10 Things I Hate About You” succeeds as entertainment despite it’s being the most woeful of genres: The teen romance. Chalk it up to a smart screenplay that well-knows it’s messing with the rules (teachers swear and talk back in class) and the wow-power of Heath Ledger as a Down Under teen in the U.S. of A. God, what a talent. What a loss. Julia Stiles (where did she go?) plays with the standard movie “bitch” card as a smart girl who knows what she wants, and knows from past wrongs. Best thing: She never gives in her smarts or independence for a man (boy)’s approval. All in all, a great showing for a film type I flee from. B+
Away We Go (2009)
Sam Mendes had to make “Away We Go” after the nasty “Revolutionary Road.” In this drama/comedy, a couple (John Krasinski and Maya Rudolph) expecting their child travel the United States and a bit of Canada to find their home, and their future. They, of course, succeed while affirming their love for each other. Quirks and all. It’s a cute and lovable film that regularly crosses into blech "I wuv you!" cuteness. The best bits come from the supporting players of Jeff Daniels, Allison Janney, Maggie Gyllenhaal and Melanie Lynskey, among others, as eccentrics who have remain devoted to love despite all its hardships. Krasinski’s goofy behavior and wardrobe grate. B-
The Kingdom (2007)
“The Kingdom” is a helluva hybrid film -- thinking person’s political brain cruncher of all things Middle East/United States and a damn good action film. The very last of this 2007 thriller with Jamie Foxx, Jason Bateman, Jennifer Garner and the awesome Chris Cooper may be way too Hollywood, but it’s preceded by bare-knuckle big-screen entertainment. And nasty, true politics. Director Peter Berg and his writers provide a shot of whiskey that won’t be found in any other Hollywood film that would go for “can’t we all get along” easiness. This film dares suggest maybe we can’t get along. But that’s only part of the film. On the action side, an explosive highway chase delivers shocking thrills, and leads up to a shoot-out that is eye-popping, if not a bit silly. Hell, I’ll give it away: All our American heroes walk out alive from a vicious battle with dozens of bomb-throwing, machine-gun-totting terrorists. A big Bruce Willis-like slump for a film that opens with a shocking attack on Americans playing the most American sport of baseball. B+
Once (2007)
“Once” is a true feat: An original take on a tired standard (here, boy-meets-girl drama) that turns the table legs up, and provides a bit of magic for extra bargain. The magic here is the amazingly heartfelt, seemingly-off-the-cuff music created by the guy (Glen Hansard) and the girl (Marketa Irglova). The set-up is easy: Girl stumbles upon Guy as he sings passionately -- wildly so -- on a Dublin street corner. They talk music, and befriend each other, moving ever closer to … I won’t spoil it. Made on a shoestring budget and by-God seemingly shot on the fly and improvised, writer-director John Carney has made a startling new passionate film about adult love. If you’re looking for a mushy feel-good rom com, look elsewhere. This is the anti-“High School Musical” - a film about love, music and adults. Blissfully real, with an ending that will stick with you. The soundtrack - have I said this enough? - is amazing, and not a single bit American. A
Sunday, August 23, 2009
2008: Best and Worst
The Best
1. Slumdog Millionaire. Danny Boyle's tale of love conquering absolute poverty and evil is a punch to the gut, and a kick to the soul. This was the story that we, as a world, needed in 2008.
2. WALL-E. This easily could be No. 1. Pixar's tale of robots in a post-Earth world is instant classic. Truly inspirational work.
3. The Wrestler. Darren Aronofsky's portrait of a burned-out wrestler would bring Hulk Hogan to tears. One helluva film.
4. Man on Wire. A documentary about a oddball 1970s "crime" so cool, so now, it makes any modern heist flick seem sadly lame.
5. (Tie) The Dark Knight and Iron Man. Comic book movies done right -- bold, big and as smart as any written text. Fully re-watchable.
6. Waltz with Brashir. A war film documentary told in full animation. All cartoon rules are dead. Awesome film-making.
7. In Bruges. A bloody marvelous drama/comedy about two hitmen, one reeling from an error so grievous, it burns his soul.
8. (Tie) Let the Right One In and The Orphanage. Two European horror films done right, both centering on children, one vampire, the other, an Elephant Man-type misfit.
9. Frozen River. Do you love your momma? Well, she ain't nothing compared to Melissa Leo's brave soul here.
10. Milk. The story of Harvey Milk, an inspiring, brave American killed by classic American hatreds.
The Worst
5. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skulls. Spielberg and Lucas trash one of the heros of my youth with CGI monkeys. No.
4. (Tie) 88 Minutes and Righteous Kill. Two reasons why Al Pacino and Robert De Niro are no longer Al Paciono and Robert De Niro.
3. The Love Guru. Was Mike Myers ever funny? From this film, the answer is ... No. Not a single laugh.
2. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas. The first and I hope the last Holocaust film made for children. It insults history.
1. Bangkok Dangerous. Even by the standards of bad Nicolas Cage flicks, this film excels in badness. A thriller with zero thrills.
1. Slumdog Millionaire. Danny Boyle's tale of love conquering absolute poverty and evil is a punch to the gut, and a kick to the soul. This was the story that we, as a world, needed in 2008.
2. WALL-E. This easily could be No. 1. Pixar's tale of robots in a post-Earth world is instant classic. Truly inspirational work.
3. The Wrestler. Darren Aronofsky's portrait of a burned-out wrestler would bring Hulk Hogan to tears. One helluva film.
4. Man on Wire. A documentary about a oddball 1970s "crime" so cool, so now, it makes any modern heist flick seem sadly lame.
5. (Tie) The Dark Knight and Iron Man. Comic book movies done right -- bold, big and as smart as any written text. Fully re-watchable.
6. Waltz with Brashir. A war film documentary told in full animation. All cartoon rules are dead. Awesome film-making.
7. In Bruges. A bloody marvelous drama/comedy about two hitmen, one reeling from an error so grievous, it burns his soul.
8. (Tie) Let the Right One In and The Orphanage. Two European horror films done right, both centering on children, one vampire, the other, an Elephant Man-type misfit.
9. Frozen River. Do you love your momma? Well, she ain't nothing compared to Melissa Leo's brave soul here.
10. Milk. The story of Harvey Milk, an inspiring, brave American killed by classic American hatreds.
The Worst
5. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skulls. Spielberg and Lucas trash one of the heros of my youth with CGI monkeys. No.
4. (Tie) 88 Minutes and Righteous Kill. Two reasons why Al Pacino and Robert De Niro are no longer Al Paciono and Robert De Niro.
3. The Love Guru. Was Mike Myers ever funny? From this film, the answer is ... No. Not a single laugh.
2. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas. The first and I hope the last Holocaust film made for children. It insults history.
1. Bangkok Dangerous. Even by the standards of bad Nicolas Cage flicks, this film excels in badness. A thriller with zero thrills.
2007: Best and Worst
Best
1. There Will Be Blood. The movie of the decade shows the America of now. Capitalism and Christian dogma run amok, compassion and God laid asunder. Vital, merciless film-making, it left a tattoo on my soul.
2. The Lives of Others. A white-knuckle thriller about communism in East Germany, and one spy's destruction of free souls. Heartbreaking.
3. No Country for Old Men. The Coens' perfect adaptation of Cormac McCarthy's perfect Western novel. Javier Bardem terrifies.
4. Zodiac. David Fincher's fact-based tale of the serial killer that got away, a perfect police/journalism drama for the ages.
5. Persepolis. Life inside Iran in an animated tale that punches as hard as any documentary. In black and white, and blood red.
6. The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. A detail perfect Western,so beautifully shot and acted, it smells of a time capsule, and gun powder.
7. (Tie) I'm Not There and The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. Two biopics of two different men (Dylan!) that upend the biopic genre.
8. Once, The perfect romantic musical for our age, with grungy harsh music, and an uncertain end.
9. No End in Sight. The film of the Iraq War. If Fox News hates it, it must be good and true. So watch it. Learn from it.
10. 300. Frank Miller's blood-tastic graphic novel hits the silver screen. Pro-war? Pfft. The adrenaline rush of the year, ripped from the page.
Worst
5. (Tie) Live Free and Die Hard, Ghost Rider, Spider-Man 3 and Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer. John McClane (once cool) joins these other superhero flicks, drunk on CGI bullshit; short on soul.
4. Wild Hogs. A family film about daddy bikers for families that hate gays. I bet this shit got the GOP/Fox News approval.
3. Next. Indeed.
2. I Know Who Killed Me. Lindsey Lohan tries stripper by way of David Lynch mystery flick. Worse than it sounds.
1. Hannibal Rising The best screen villain of the past 25 years, reduced to Batman heroics. Thomas Harris fucked this from the page. Awful.
1. There Will Be Blood. The movie of the decade shows the America of now. Capitalism and Christian dogma run amok, compassion and God laid asunder. Vital, merciless film-making, it left a tattoo on my soul.
2. The Lives of Others. A white-knuckle thriller about communism in East Germany, and one spy's destruction of free souls. Heartbreaking.
3. No Country for Old Men. The Coens' perfect adaptation of Cormac McCarthy's perfect Western novel. Javier Bardem terrifies.
4. Zodiac. David Fincher's fact-based tale of the serial killer that got away, a perfect police/journalism drama for the ages.
5. Persepolis. Life inside Iran in an animated tale that punches as hard as any documentary. In black and white, and blood red.
6. The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. A detail perfect Western,so beautifully shot and acted, it smells of a time capsule, and gun powder.
7. (Tie) I'm Not There and The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. Two biopics of two different men (Dylan!) that upend the biopic genre.
8. Once, The perfect romantic musical for our age, with grungy harsh music, and an uncertain end.
9. No End in Sight. The film of the Iraq War. If Fox News hates it, it must be good and true. So watch it. Learn from it.
10. 300. Frank Miller's blood-tastic graphic novel hits the silver screen. Pro-war? Pfft. The adrenaline rush of the year, ripped from the page.
Worst
5. (Tie) Live Free and Die Hard, Ghost Rider, Spider-Man 3 and Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer. John McClane (once cool) joins these other superhero flicks, drunk on CGI bullshit; short on soul.
4. Wild Hogs. A family film about daddy bikers for families that hate gays. I bet this shit got the GOP/Fox News approval.
3. Next. Indeed.
2. I Know Who Killed Me. Lindsey Lohan tries stripper by way of David Lynch mystery flick. Worse than it sounds.
1. Hannibal Rising The best screen villain of the past 25 years, reduced to Batman heroics. Thomas Harris fucked this from the page. Awful.
2006: Best and Worst
Best
1. Pan's Labyrinth
2. Children of Men
3. United 93
4. Casino Royale
5. The Proposition
6. The Fountain
7. Hard Candy
8. Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan
9. Apocalypto
10. Letters From Iwo Jima
Worst
5. The da Vinci Code
4. The Break-Up
3. The Wicker Man
2. All the King's Men
1. Tideland
1. Pan's Labyrinth
2. Children of Men
3. United 93
4. Casino Royale
5. The Proposition
6. The Fountain
7. Hard Candy
8. Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan
9. Apocalypto
10. Letters From Iwo Jima
Worst
5. The da Vinci Code
4. The Break-Up
3. The Wicker Man
2. All the King's Men
1. Tideland
2005: Best and Worst
Best
1. A History of Violence
2. Howl's Moving Castle
3. Murderball
4. Hustle & Flow
5. The Constant Gardener
6. Brokeback Mountain
7. Batman Begins
8. Layer Cake
9. Good Night. And, Good Luck
10. Pride and Prejudice
Worst
5. The Producers
4. Lord of War
3. Bewitched
2. Domino
1. Hide and Seek
1. A History of Violence
2. Howl's Moving Castle
3. Murderball
4. Hustle & Flow
5. The Constant Gardener
6. Brokeback Mountain
7. Batman Begins
8. Layer Cake
9. Good Night. And, Good Luck
10. Pride and Prejudice
Worst
5. The Producers
4. Lord of War
3. Bewitched
2. Domino
1. Hide and Seek
Sunday, August 16, 2009
2004: Best and Worst
The Best
1. The Incredibles
2. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
3. Shaun of the Dead
4. Kill Bill Vol. 2
5. Maria Full of Grace
6. Sideways
7. Vera Drake
8. Ray
9. (Tie) Spider-Man 2 and Hellboy
10. Infernal Affairs
The Worst
5. (Tie) Catwoman and The Punisher
4. The Stepford Wives
3. Fat Albert
2. Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow
1. The Phantom of the Opera
1. The Incredibles
2. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
3. Shaun of the Dead
4. Kill Bill Vol. 2
5. Maria Full of Grace
6. Sideways
7. Vera Drake
8. Ray
9. (Tie) Spider-Man 2 and Hellboy
10. Infernal Affairs
The Worst
5. (Tie) Catwoman and The Punisher
4. The Stepford Wives
3. Fat Albert
2. Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow
1. The Phantom of the Opera
2003: Best and Worst
The Best
1. American Splendor
2. City of God
3. The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King
4. (Tie) Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World and Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl
5. Kill Bill Vol. 1
6. The Magdalene Sisters
7. Finding Nemo
8. Dirty Pretty Things
9. Lost in Translation
10. Thirteen
The Worst
5. The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen
4. Legally Blond 2: Red, White and Blue
3. (Tie) Daredevil and Paycheck
2. The Core
1. The Matrix Revolutions
1. American Splendor
2. City of God
3. The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King
4. (Tie) Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World and Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl
5. Kill Bill Vol. 1
6. The Magdalene Sisters
7. Finding Nemo
8. Dirty Pretty Things
9. Lost in Translation
10. Thirteen
The Worst
5. The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen
4. Legally Blond 2: Red, White and Blue
3. (Tie) Daredevil and Paycheck
2. The Core
1. The Matrix Revolutions
2002: Best and Worst
The Best
1. Spirited Away. Hayao Miyazaki's animated tale of a girl as hero, fighting for mom and dad is perfect, and, I think, from another world.
2. Road to Perdition.
3. The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
4. Far From Heaven. Todd Haynes riffs on 1950s American values as the lie they always were, then and now. Julianne Moore, goddess.
5. The Pianist
7. Rabbit-Proof Fence
8. Adaptation
9. Catch Me if You Can
10. (Tie) Insomnia and Spider. Nolan and Cronenberg delve deep into FUBAR minds, one a cop, the other a schizo killer. They are not too far apart, nor are we.
The Worst
5. Time Machine
4. Die Another Day
3. Ballistic: Ecks vs. Sever. An action film so over-the-top, ugly, and dull, it could not pass for a Sci-fi TV movie. Pity Antonio Banderas.
2. Collateral Damage
1. Signs. Water. That is all I will say. M. Night Shyamalan went full dementia here, and never recovered, a high-career destroyed. I hate this film. Hate it.
1. Spirited Away. Hayao Miyazaki's animated tale of a girl as hero, fighting for mom and dad is perfect, and, I think, from another world.
2. Road to Perdition.
3. The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
4. Far From Heaven. Todd Haynes riffs on 1950s American values as the lie they always were, then and now. Julianne Moore, goddess.
5. The Pianist
6. 25th Hour. Spike Lee digs James Ellroy deep in this drama about a dealer facing prison, weeping over 9/11. Edward Norton rules it.
7. Rabbit-Proof Fence
8. Adaptation
9. Catch Me if You Can
10. (Tie) Insomnia and Spider. Nolan and Cronenberg delve deep into FUBAR minds, one a cop, the other a schizo killer. They are not too far apart, nor are we.
The Worst
5. Time Machine
4. Die Another Day
3. Ballistic: Ecks vs. Sever. An action film so over-the-top, ugly, and dull, it could not pass for a Sci-fi TV movie. Pity Antonio Banderas.
2. Collateral Damage
1. Signs. Water. That is all I will say. M. Night Shyamalan went full dementia here, and never recovered, a high-career destroyed. I hate this film. Hate it.
2001: Best and Worst
The Best
1. Memento
2. Mulholland Dr.
3. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
4. Moulin Rouge
5. Black Hawk Down
6. The Devil's Backbone
7. (Tie) Monsters Inc. & Shrek
8. Amelie
9. Gosford Park
10. In the Bedroom
The Worst
5. Planet of the Apes
4. The Mexican
3. The Musketeer
2. Behind Enemy Lines
1. Blow Dry
1. Memento
2. Mulholland Dr.
3. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
4. Moulin Rouge
5. Black Hawk Down
6. The Devil's Backbone
7. (Tie) Monsters Inc. & Shrek
8. Amelie
9. Gosford Park
10. In the Bedroom
The Worst
5. Planet of the Apes
4. The Mexican
3. The Musketeer
2. Behind Enemy Lines
1. Blow Dry
Favorites: Animated Full-length
Heavy on the Disney, I know.
1. Toy Story (1995)
2. Pinocchio (1940)
3. The Incredibles (2004)
4. The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993)
5. Spirited Away (2002)
6. Peter Pan (1953)
7. WALL-E (2008)
8. One Hundred and One Dalmatians (1961)
9. Persepolis (2007)
10. The Lion King (1994)
1. Toy Story (1995)
2. Pinocchio (1940)
3. The Incredibles (2004)
4. The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993)
5. Spirited Away (2002)
6. Peter Pan (1953)
7. WALL-E (2008)
8. One Hundred and One Dalmatians (1961)
9. Persepolis (2007)
10. The Lion King (1994)
Favorites: Comedies
1. The Producers (1968
2. Dr. Strangelove or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)
3. Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975)
4. Young Frankenstein (1974)
5. The Apartment (1960)
6. Spinal Tap (1982)
7. A Christmas Story (1984)
8. Shaun of the Dead (2004)
9. Airplane! (1980)
10. The FBI Story (1959) -- Seriously
2. Dr. Strangelove or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)
3. Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975)
4. Young Frankenstein (1974)
5. The Apartment (1960)
6. Spinal Tap (1982)
7. A Christmas Story (1984)
8. Shaun of the Dead (2004)
9. Airplane! (1980)
10. The FBI Story (1959) -- Seriously
Eraserhead (1976)
David Lynch’s nightmarish city scapes and twisted viewpoint have never been more warped than in “Eraserhead,” his mid-1970s freakish debut masterpiece. I can’t describe the story, but it follows a frizzy haired loner (Jack Nance) who lives in an apartment right out of a Depression-era nightmare, as far from Wyeth America as one can get. He has a sort-of girlfriend (Charlotte Stewart), who turns up pregnant and delivers … a fetus. Not a baby. But a monstrous, twisted, writhing and screaming fetus that looks more animal than human. Like a Pollack painting, this mind fuck is endlessly debatable. Certainly alienation, probably fear of fatherhood and marriage. I love Lynch’s madness, and this is one of his most bizarre films. All his trademarks are here: curtains, stages where actors sing and perform, angels and demons (that fetus, the monstrous man - the fetus grown up?). Black and white beauty. I’ll say this, nothing in a Lynch film is more poetic than the Woman in the Radiator (!!!) singing, “In heaven, everything is fine.” Brilliant. Warped. Godlike. Unexplainable. One of my favorites. So sad Nance was murdered. A+
Friday, August 14, 2009
Escape to Witch Mountain (1975) and Return to Witch Mountain (1978)
"Escape to Witch Mountain" is quite fun, really. It's a pure Disney heyday '70s film about two alien children (Kim Richards and Ike Eisenmann) in the modern world of orphanages, old grumpy men in campers and villainous rich guys out to get you. Ahhh, the 1970s. It's a wonderful lark written, photographed and plotted with the absolute exact innocence and smallness of a child. Dig the jail scene, every shot is from a child's angle. It's dated, yes, and a bit too innocent, but that's the charm. B+
The sequel "Return to Witch Mountain" (1978) is far less satisfying. The junior aliens (Richards and Eisenmann) are older but somehow more naive. The film itself is brain dead, too. We sent the fist film watching the kiddies run for the safety of home, in a mountain, but here ... they get left and lost in Los Angeles. As the villains, Christopher Lee and Bette Davis give stunningly awful performances. Davis particularly is shrill. Only Anthony James ("Unforgiven") provides fun as a lowly henchman. C
The sequel "Return to Witch Mountain" (1978) is far less satisfying. The junior aliens (Richards and Eisenmann) are older but somehow more naive. The film itself is brain dead, too. We sent the fist film watching the kiddies run for the safety of home, in a mountain, but here ... they get left and lost in Los Angeles. As the villains, Christopher Lee and Bette Davis give stunningly awful performances. Davis particularly is shrill. Only Anthony James ("Unforgiven") provides fun as a lowly henchman. C
Lake Placid (1999)
"Lake Placid" is a bad film. A wonderfully, silly, over-the-top laugh-out-loud bad-on-purpose film that can be watched over and over again. The take: In Maine, a killer crocodile is munching on people, and a museum worker (!!! played by Bridgett Fonda) and a parks ranger (Bill Pullman) are among the many tasked with finding and stopping the beast. It's all so wonderfully silly and wonderfully delivered. The film's a joke on a whole set of genres: the monster in nature, romantic dramas and horror. Betty White, God, I love that woman, appears as a wacked local with the mouth of a dozen degenerate Marines. Her line about not having a d*ck is nothing short of brilliant. The crocodile-eats-bear scene still is one of the best laughs I've ever had. B+
Taken (2009)
I can't decide if "Taken" is a straight kick-ass action film with Liam Neeson as a vengeful daddy out to fork over the bad guys who kidnapped his precious virgin daughter (Maggie Grace from TV's "Lost"), or if it's a black comedy lampooning how violent America can be. Maybe it's both.
Neeson, despite his cooler-than-Jesus Irish accent, plays a violent American ex-CIA spy who warns his precious teen daughter not to go Paris as part of a summer vacation. Why? Because French people is foreigners, sure 'nuff. Theys bad. The girl is kidnapped second after leaving the airport. Literally, seconds.
The "takers" are not thugs looking for ransom, but nasty dark-skinned men looking to sell the girl into sex slavery to a fat sheik who makes Shrek look as trim as Neeson. Dad goes to Paris and immediately starts a body count greater than any large metro's annual amount, all within 70 or so hours. Even housewives aren't safe.
"Taken" is a quick, easy watch. But don't think too much. Or at all. Would the kidnappers really keep the girl in the same city to auction her off? Did writers Luc Besson and Robert Mark Kamen really have to make all the women here either naives, b*tches and sluts who deserve death, whores, or otherwise useless? What if -- by God -- the daughter was in her mid-20s (as Grace so obviously is) and sexually active? Would she still be worth saving? Her friend who is sexually active sure is butchered.
Neeson's unsinkable charisma keeps the film racing through all these questions. Mostly. C+
Neeson, despite his cooler-than-Jesus Irish accent, plays a violent American ex-CIA spy who warns his precious teen daughter not to go Paris as part of a summer vacation. Why? Because French people is foreigners, sure 'nuff. Theys bad. The girl is kidnapped second after leaving the airport. Literally, seconds.
The "takers" are not thugs looking for ransom, but nasty dark-skinned men looking to sell the girl into sex slavery to a fat sheik who makes Shrek look as trim as Neeson. Dad goes to Paris and immediately starts a body count greater than any large metro's annual amount, all within 70 or so hours. Even housewives aren't safe.
"Taken" is a quick, easy watch. But don't think too much. Or at all. Would the kidnappers really keep the girl in the same city to auction her off? Did writers Luc Besson and Robert Mark Kamen really have to make all the women here either naives, b*tches and sluts who deserve death, whores, or otherwise useless? What if -- by God -- the daughter was in her mid-20s (as Grace so obviously is) and sexually active? Would she still be worth saving? Her friend who is sexually active sure is butchered.
Neeson's unsinkable charisma keeps the film racing through all these questions. Mostly. C+
Star Trek (2009)
The new "Star Trek" is historic cinema. Not only is it ingenuous reboot film-making from the mind of J.J. Abrams (TV's "Lost"), but it dares to pull the ultimate hat-trick. Through a time-traveling, history-changing event, this film doesn't just go back and tell us the origins of beloved Enterprise crew from the 1960s TV show and 1980s films. It spins off a whole new alternate reality with the same characters, but with different ticks, emotions and pasts plastered onto each soul.
It's a "reboot" that doesn't have the whiff of re-cooked ham. Thank the film gods.
The set-up: A time-screwing Romulan (Eric Bana in full bad-ass mode) travels back in time to kill James T. Kirk's father and decimate Spock's home plant of Vulcan. Boom. What we knew from dozens of shows and six or so films is still in place; it happened. This is new territory. Kirk (Chris Pine) is now an orphan rebel seemingly hell-bent on dying young, Spock (Zachary Quinto) is infused with new untapped emotion (yes, emotion) as he watches his mother plunge to her death and his home planet implode.
Yes, the buzzing art direction and fast editing of the film is different from any "Trek" before it. Again, thank the film gods. It's all for the better, because the old franchise had grown stale, stuffy and self-righteous, the cinematic equivalent of the Republican Party. And yet here, characters and the relationships still are at the forefront, the best assets of the "Trek" films.
I can't think of a better scene in a "Trek" film than here: Just after Vulcan is destroyed, and the young Uhura (Zoe Saldana) chases after Spock, and hugs and kisses him in an elevator, hoping to get any response from him, and to comfort him. On the surface, Spock doesn't respond. Pure Vulcan. The camera then hones in on his eyes, and Spock explodes (oh so quietly) on screen like never before. Quinto (TV's "Heroes") is a movie star. Runner-up: A heroic suicide that brings back memories of a great moment in "Lost" - the drowning of Charlie.
The question that must be asked: Would anyone still respect the now-crap "Star Wars" franchise if George Lucas had handed his tired ass franchise off to a wild card dealer such as Abrams? Hell, yes. "Star Trek" is back, and will life long and prosper. "Star Wars"? Umm. That was a long, long time ago. Having nearly slept through "Star Trek V: We Even Made God Boring" in the theater, I can't believe I just wrote that. A-
It's a "reboot" that doesn't have the whiff of re-cooked ham. Thank the film gods.
The set-up: A time-screwing Romulan (Eric Bana in full bad-ass mode) travels back in time to kill James T. Kirk's father and decimate Spock's home plant of Vulcan. Boom. What we knew from dozens of shows and six or so films is still in place; it happened. This is new territory. Kirk (Chris Pine) is now an orphan rebel seemingly hell-bent on dying young, Spock (Zachary Quinto) is infused with new untapped emotion (yes, emotion) as he watches his mother plunge to her death and his home planet implode.
Yes, the buzzing art direction and fast editing of the film is different from any "Trek" before it. Again, thank the film gods. It's all for the better, because the old franchise had grown stale, stuffy and self-righteous, the cinematic equivalent of the Republican Party. And yet here, characters and the relationships still are at the forefront, the best assets of the "Trek" films.
I can't think of a better scene in a "Trek" film than here: Just after Vulcan is destroyed, and the young Uhura (Zoe Saldana) chases after Spock, and hugs and kisses him in an elevator, hoping to get any response from him, and to comfort him. On the surface, Spock doesn't respond. Pure Vulcan. The camera then hones in on his eyes, and Spock explodes (oh so quietly) on screen like never before. Quinto (TV's "Heroes") is a movie star. Runner-up: A heroic suicide that brings back memories of a great moment in "Lost" - the drowning of Charlie.
The question that must be asked: Would anyone still respect the now-crap "Star Wars" franchise if George Lucas had handed his tired ass franchise off to a wild card dealer such as Abrams? Hell, yes. "Star Trek" is back, and will life long and prosper. "Star Wars"? Umm. That was a long, long time ago. Having nearly slept through "Star Trek V: We Even Made God Boring" in the theater, I can't believe I just wrote that. A-
Glory (1989)
"Glory" was a longtime favorite film, top five. It's dropped down the list quite a bit since I saw it in a theater in 1989, being absolutely blown away by the film's story of the first black Union regiment in the Civil War. And I still am blown away, in absolute awe of the relentless depictions of battle, and the camp scenes, and the drama of an America going through self-inflicted, suicidal hell (and we think we have it rough now, oh, what bad memories we have) to regain part of its soul. Or maybe get a new one, depending on how you see history. Maybe the latter, more, to me.
Matthew Broderick put away his Ferris to play Robert Shaw, the young colonel tasked with leading the 54th Mass. Among his charges are Morgan Freeman as a grave digger turned spiritual guru, Andre Braugher as free man and childhood friend of Shaw's, and -- in a breakout role -- Denzel Washington as an escaped slave righteously and rightfully angry at the world.
The battle scenes are gritty, dirty and seem realistic (having participated in Civil War re-enactments myself) and the story, again, is amazing. Director Edward Zwick ("Legends of the Fall") lays on the pomp and the heroism thick, but this still is a great, great film. The cinematography by Freddie Francis still amazes 20 years later. Some hate Broderick in the lead, but I think he's perfect. Broderick is a light dramatic actor (excellent comedian), and he plays a man out of his league here who must rise to the occasion and the sheer aura of those around him. At film's end, Broderick does that. A
Matthew Broderick put away his Ferris to play Robert Shaw, the young colonel tasked with leading the 54th Mass. Among his charges are Morgan Freeman as a grave digger turned spiritual guru, Andre Braugher as free man and childhood friend of Shaw's, and -- in a breakout role -- Denzel Washington as an escaped slave righteously and rightfully angry at the world.
The battle scenes are gritty, dirty and seem realistic (having participated in Civil War re-enactments myself) and the story, again, is amazing. Director Edward Zwick ("Legends of the Fall") lays on the pomp and the heroism thick, but this still is a great, great film. The cinematography by Freddie Francis still amazes 20 years later. Some hate Broderick in the lead, but I think he's perfect. Broderick is a light dramatic actor (excellent comedian), and he plays a man out of his league here who must rise to the occasion and the sheer aura of those around him. At film's end, Broderick does that. A
Network (1976)
"Network" is one of my Top Ten films of all time. By God, not a week goes by where I don't quote it. Or think about it. And I have posters of the film on my walls at home and in my office. So, I love it. It is the ultimate cold-hearted, sick satire of the American news media hell-bent hooked on Nielsen ratings (the crazier the news, the more people watch), and capitalism run amok.
William Holden is the (so it seems) stalwart TV newsman, the knight in shining armor, who gets his mettle tainted when his best friend and TV anchor (Peter Finch) has a nervous breakdown on air. He's sucked into a ratings war with the Big Three (remember those days?), office politics and an affair with a much younger woman (Faye Dunaway, never more alive and fierce), who would burn a child alive for a Nielson point.
Written by Paddy Chayefsky and directed by Sidney Lumet, the 1976 film is still deadly on target, striking a blow against an American public bored with itself and the corporate drones who feed that hunger. Ned Beatty's monologue as a CEO is historic, and ought to be required viewing in every college classroom across the nation.
"Network" also is one of best-acted movies ever: Beatrice Straight mesmerizes as an angry wife and Robert Duvall throttles off the screen as a soulless corporate demigod. But it's Finch who rules the film. His "I'm as mad as hell!" rant is among the greatest scenes in film, and still startles me after more than a dozen viewings.
I haven't even started on the sexual and racial politics that Chayefsky rips apart for all to view. A must see. Unless you're a conservative who thinks corporations and churches have your best interest in mind. In which case, Ha! A+
William Holden is the (so it seems) stalwart TV newsman, the knight in shining armor, who gets his mettle tainted when his best friend and TV anchor (Peter Finch) has a nervous breakdown on air. He's sucked into a ratings war with the Big Three (remember those days?), office politics and an affair with a much younger woman (Faye Dunaway, never more alive and fierce), who would burn a child alive for a Nielson point.
Written by Paddy Chayefsky and directed by Sidney Lumet, the 1976 film is still deadly on target, striking a blow against an American public bored with itself and the corporate drones who feed that hunger. Ned Beatty's monologue as a CEO is historic, and ought to be required viewing in every college classroom across the nation.
"Network" also is one of best-acted movies ever: Beatrice Straight mesmerizes as an angry wife and Robert Duvall throttles off the screen as a soulless corporate demigod. But it's Finch who rules the film. His "I'm as mad as hell!" rant is among the greatest scenes in film, and still startles me after more than a dozen viewings.
I haven't even started on the sexual and racial politics that Chayefsky rips apart for all to view. A must see. Unless you're a conservative who thinks corporations and churches have your best interest in mind. In which case, Ha! A+
Memento (2001) and Ghanjini (2008)
"Memento" is the ultimate puzzle box film, a dive into a mind where the narrator is not only untrustworthy, but he may be completely mentally unstable. Nine years out, it is still Christopher Nolan's masterpiece, far and above "Insomnia" or "The Dark Knight" and "Batman Begins."
Guy Pearce ("L.A. Confidential") stars as Leonard Shelby, a former insurance investigator who was attacked in his home some years ago and as a result of a head injury, cannot form new memories. His whole life relies on Polaroid photos, scribbled notes, the testament of others, and tattoos that cover his body. Leonard is out to find the killers of his wife, murdered in that same attack. Or so we are told.
Nolan and his brother Jonathan, who wrote the film, tell their story backward - with an alternating forward motion in black and white -- so that we are as off balance as Leonard. Every next scene is the actual previous scene. Mark Boone Junior, Carrie-Anne Moss and Joe Pantoliano play the regulars in his life, all not to be trusted.
The beauty of this film, besides Pearce's mesmerizing, should-of-have-been-a-star performance, is how Nolan toys with the viewer's mind. And our morality. Does memory make a person, or does a person make their memories? How reliant are those memories? A brilliant twisting film that demands multiple viewings, "Memento" may be my favorite film of the decade. It can be watched a 100 times and remain fresh. A+
How's this for a mind-melting film? "Memento" was remade as an India Bollywood musical laced with noir, revenge film, mystery, slapstick comedy, romantic comedy, music, martial arts epic, college-romp girl mystery, rags-to-riches journey and western showdown. The result: "Ghanjini" -- written and directed by A.R. Murugadoss, with Aamir Khan as Sanjay Singhania, a rich CEO in the place of Guy Pearce's investigator.
Asin is the dead lover for whom Sanjay seeks vengeance. The backbone of the film is the same: A man, attacked by goons, cannot form memories, but nonetheless seeks revenge for his murdered beloved. But this film throws in every genre and is, by God, the most kinetic, insane, over-the-top, go-for-broke film I've seen in ages.
It isn't great, though: It's way overlong at three hours and has cheesy music that would make Menudo blush. But the absolute love, joy, thrills and action -- the heart -- of this film is undeniable. Khan is amazing as the romantic, determined business man and bumbling hero/singer turned muscle-bound mad man with whoop butt skills that would turn Ahnuld, Bruce and Sly all melt into jelly.
I can't help but like it, flaws and all. If only half the American films had this much energy. For sheer nutty joy. B+
Guy Pearce ("L.A. Confidential") stars as Leonard Shelby, a former insurance investigator who was attacked in his home some years ago and as a result of a head injury, cannot form new memories. His whole life relies on Polaroid photos, scribbled notes, the testament of others, and tattoos that cover his body. Leonard is out to find the killers of his wife, murdered in that same attack. Or so we are told.
Nolan and his brother Jonathan, who wrote the film, tell their story backward - with an alternating forward motion in black and white -- so that we are as off balance as Leonard. Every next scene is the actual previous scene. Mark Boone Junior, Carrie-Anne Moss and Joe Pantoliano play the regulars in his life, all not to be trusted.
The beauty of this film, besides Pearce's mesmerizing, should-of-have-been-a-star performance, is how Nolan toys with the viewer's mind. And our morality. Does memory make a person, or does a person make their memories? How reliant are those memories? A brilliant twisting film that demands multiple viewings, "Memento" may be my favorite film of the decade. It can be watched a 100 times and remain fresh. A+
How's this for a mind-melting film? "Memento" was remade as an India Bollywood musical laced with noir, revenge film, mystery, slapstick comedy, romantic comedy, music, martial arts epic, college-romp girl mystery, rags-to-riches journey and western showdown. The result: "Ghanjini" -- written and directed by A.R. Murugadoss, with Aamir Khan as Sanjay Singhania, a rich CEO in the place of Guy Pearce's investigator.
Asin is the dead lover for whom Sanjay seeks vengeance. The backbone of the film is the same: A man, attacked by goons, cannot form memories, but nonetheless seeks revenge for his murdered beloved. But this film throws in every genre and is, by God, the most kinetic, insane, over-the-top, go-for-broke film I've seen in ages.
It isn't great, though: It's way overlong at three hours and has cheesy music that would make Menudo blush. But the absolute love, joy, thrills and action -- the heart -- of this film is undeniable. Khan is amazing as the romantic, determined business man and bumbling hero/singer turned muscle-bound mad man with whoop butt skills that would turn Ahnuld, Bruce and Sly all melt into jelly.
I can't help but like it, flaws and all. If only half the American films had this much energy. For sheer nutty joy. B+
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Brazil (1985)
"Brazil" is George Orwell to the max, with sickly twisted Monty Python humor and a shocking bit of violence, smash-mixed for an extra sharp jab at a futuristic life under a corporate/government microscope. It is the hands-down best Terry Gilliam time warp/mind screw, and the man likes to screw with minds. Jonathan Pryce is the hero -- a cubicle cog battling and yet loyal to his incompetent boss (Ian Holm) and his rich mother (Katherine Helmond) -- who finds himself falling in love with (or is stalking) a beautiful woman (Kim Geist) who may be a terrorist. The supporting cast includes Jim Broadbent, Robert De Niro, Michael Palin, and a creepy/funny Bob Hoskins. The film is a delirious and literal fever dream, where fantasy sequences meld into the "reality" going on in the mad world where all is gray, and life is one paperwork form after the other, and the world is soulless. If Gilliam's long 140-odd minute version is a mess (repetition, scenes that dead end) under certain viewing, it's a fuckin' brilliant one. A masterpiece, even. A
Nobel Son (2008)
Alan Rickman is on all cylinders in "Nobel Son," playing a chemistry professor so despicable and self-centered, you want him to suffer deeply. And, for the most part, his Eli Michaelson does burn after his grown son (Bryan Greenburg) is kidnapped by a mysterious obsessive (Shawn Hatosy). The film, directed by Randall Miller, is sharp and has enough plot twists to keep the viewer mostly off balance. I hated some of the chop-happy editing and the music is loud and obnoxious where it should be dead silent (when a character hears a creeping sound in his apparently empty home). But sure worth a watch, if only for the site of Rickman turning in a 13 on his trademark SOB 10 scale. C+
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)
"Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" is my favorite romantic-comedy because of it's dark mind-bending spin on the tired genre. Here, boy meets girl, not realizing he's already met her, loved her, and broken up with her. I won't give away more. Savor the twists and turns. This is from the mind of Charlie Kaufman ("Being John Malkovich") and director Michel Gondry ("Be Kind Rewind"), so a wild ride is promised and delivered. Cut through all the wild scripting, editing and reversals, and we have a wide-eyed, fresh take on love as a power that defies logic and human plans and faults. This film soars on and with heart and spirit. And some drugs, too. Jim Carrey, in his best role, and Kate Winslet, never cooler, are the odd couple. Glorious. And lovely. A+
Empire of the Sun (1987)
"Empire of the Sun" is Steven Spielberg's first war-time masterpiece. Based on a true story, it follows an English boy named Jim (a young Christian Bale)ripped from his plush, white life in Shanghai and placed in a concentration camp run by Japanese during World War II. Jim grows up fast, from innocent wide-eyed choirboy to a tradesman who knows the value of a dying man's golf shoes. There is so much death.
Bale is phenomenal, showing a huge talent in playing a boy becoming a man, still young enough to cry because he can't remember what his parents look like. "Sun" is built entirely around Jim's perspective -- no politics, grandstanding or war room scenes. If Jim doesn't directly see and experience it, we don't either. A scene of Jim finding his mother's bedroom ransacked, with footprints and finger scratches in talcum powder is startling -- he has no idea what has happened. He's too young to get it. We do. That's the beautiful horror of this film.
This is Spielberg's first great film about a child losing his innocence, and there's no cute alien here to save him. So what if the film has one too many wet-dream cinematic shots of flaming planes. Spielberg is firing on every cylinder here, testing out his mettle before diving into far darker, more adult far in 1993. And as "Schindler's List" is my favorite film of 1993, this is my favorite film of 1987. A
Bale is phenomenal, showing a huge talent in playing a boy becoming a man, still young enough to cry because he can't remember what his parents look like. "Sun" is built entirely around Jim's perspective -- no politics, grandstanding or war room scenes. If Jim doesn't directly see and experience it, we don't either. A scene of Jim finding his mother's bedroom ransacked, with footprints and finger scratches in talcum powder is startling -- he has no idea what has happened. He's too young to get it. We do. That's the beautiful horror of this film.
This is Spielberg's first great film about a child losing his innocence, and there's no cute alien here to save him. So what if the film has one too many wet-dream cinematic shots of flaming planes. Spielberg is firing on every cylinder here, testing out his mettle before diving into far darker, more adult far in 1993. And as "Schindler's List" is my favorite film of 1993, this is my favorite film of 1987. A
Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977)
"Close Encounters of the Third Kind" is my (close) favorite films of all time, and regularly races to the top spot on most occasions, besting 1962's "The Manchurian Candidate." It is brilliant, the first film I saw that got my wheels spinning in my head on what film as art can mean, and how it plays with our minds and souls. And about aliens.
Steven Spielberg's 1977 film is a religion to me, the story of a family man (Richard Dreyfuss) who doesn't quite fit into the world, suddenly sucked into the drama of the arrival of aliens in America. Meanwhile, a small boy (Cary Guffey) and his mother (Melinda Dillon) also have visits from the extra-terrestrials, with the child being sucked from his home in a tour-de-force scene of light, smashing appliances and John William's knock out score. The world government moves fast to cover up the visits.
Every time I see this film I'm fascinated about a new aspect, and I've seen this film easily three dozen times. One glorious time on the big screen in Charlotte. My latest obsession -- the use of language in the film, the constant need of interpretation among the Americans, Mexicans, Spanish, Indians and a host of other races, but the aliens cut through all that and are heard and understood through music.
The finale at Devil's Tower, Wyo., still gives goose bumps (especially when I caught this at that theater) as the mother ship -- a floating fortress of lights like an oil refinery -- arrives in a thundercloud and one man finally finds where he belongs. Not here.
The kicker: We have nothing to fear from those outside our world, it's ourselves that are the enemy. I could go on, but I haven't the time. A+
Steven Spielberg's 1977 film is a religion to me, the story of a family man (Richard Dreyfuss) who doesn't quite fit into the world, suddenly sucked into the drama of the arrival of aliens in America. Meanwhile, a small boy (Cary Guffey) and his mother (Melinda Dillon) also have visits from the extra-terrestrials, with the child being sucked from his home in a tour-de-force scene of light, smashing appliances and John William's knock out score. The world government moves fast to cover up the visits.
Every time I see this film I'm fascinated about a new aspect, and I've seen this film easily three dozen times. One glorious time on the big screen in Charlotte. My latest obsession -- the use of language in the film, the constant need of interpretation among the Americans, Mexicans, Spanish, Indians and a host of other races, but the aliens cut through all that and are heard and understood through music.
The finale at Devil's Tower, Wyo., still gives goose bumps (especially when I caught this at that theater) as the mother ship -- a floating fortress of lights like an oil refinery -- arrives in a thundercloud and one man finally finds where he belongs. Not here.
The kicker: We have nothing to fear from those outside our world, it's ourselves that are the enemy. I could go on, but I haven't the time. A+
State of Play (2009)
"State of Play" may be the last of its genre: The newsroom thriller. As recent headlines tell us, the days of the nose-to-the-gravel newsroom reporter and morning ink on fingers are gone. Replaced by gossips who'd rather dish opinion than fact. The reporter here is Cal (Russell Crowe), a fat, long-haired slob who is covering a double murder in D.C. Meanwhile, his best pal (Ben Affleck) from college is in trouble on Capitol Hill -- he's in Congress and in a pickle after his lover/assistant dies mysteriously. Cal soon finds himself covering the story and trying to protect his friend, and not just out of loyalty. He's banging the man's wife. This ain't Bernstein or Woodward. Amid a sea of nifty plot twists and double crosses, "Play" debates the demise of hard-hitting journalism as it falls under the steamroller that is the Internet. But it gets a lot of things wrong -- from reporters playing CIA to the lack of technology such as smart phones and digital recorders. The climax settles on Cal getting the full story out in print, with no need to break it online. Fast. Is this film set in 1996? B
Up (2009)
"Up" continues Pixar's domination of not just the animation genre, but maybe every Hollywood studio. What other studio consistently puts out such high-level works of art that touch ever genre and age-level?
I love "Toy Story," "The Incredibles" and "WALL-E," and "Up" is in their league. Some scenes rise above their level in pure smartness and pitch. It's not a typical children's film, but a beautiful romantic film about an old man's (Voice of Ed Adsner) love for his dead wife. Heavy, eh?
There are funny talking animals, a pint-sized sidekick in the form of a quasi-Cub Scout (Jordan Nagai) and lots of slapstick. But there's also death and the sad reality of an old man left alone. It will make you cry.
The film starts with a boy watching newsreel film of a Howard Hughes/Douglas Fairbanks-like explorer globetrotting the world. The hero, though, is lambasted as a fake by the news reels and disappears. The little buy meets a like-minded girl, they grow up, fall in love and marry. They are childless, struggle with money and grow old. She dies. Almost all of this is told in wordless, glorious music provided by Michael Giacchino ("Lost" and "The Incredibles" -- give this guy an Oscar and a Grammy).
Facing eviction from his ancient house, the old man ties thousands of balloons to his home and flies away to South America, the dream spot of he and his now-gone bride. The Cub Scout is a stow-away, hiding on the porch. To give more away will spoil the film.
The entire film is a visual delight, with the rising of the home on all those balloons one of the great moments in animation -- the colors of the balloons vibrate and reflect a rainbow of wonder. Christopher Plummer grounds the film as a late-coming villain who is Pixar's greatest show of greed and evil yet. Dig the scene where he knocks mock skulls of prior victims of a table. Wow.
All praise to directors/writers Pete Docter and Bob Peterson (the latter who voices the scene-stealing dog, Dug.) Pixar films are built on beautifully told stories with heart and then fabulous jokes (Squirrel!!) with voice talent that isn't built on casting top stars, but the right voices. There's hardly a star here. Take that over most Dreamworks films that have flimsy stories built on jokes with highly paid voices hired to cover up the mess.
"Up" is a gem, I can't wait to see what Pixar has next. A
I love "Toy Story," "The Incredibles" and "WALL-E," and "Up" is in their league. Some scenes rise above their level in pure smartness and pitch. It's not a typical children's film, but a beautiful romantic film about an old man's (Voice of Ed Adsner) love for his dead wife. Heavy, eh?
There are funny talking animals, a pint-sized sidekick in the form of a quasi-Cub Scout (Jordan Nagai) and lots of slapstick. But there's also death and the sad reality of an old man left alone. It will make you cry.
The film starts with a boy watching newsreel film of a Howard Hughes/Douglas Fairbanks-like explorer globetrotting the world. The hero, though, is lambasted as a fake by the news reels and disappears. The little buy meets a like-minded girl, they grow up, fall in love and marry. They are childless, struggle with money and grow old. She dies. Almost all of this is told in wordless, glorious music provided by Michael Giacchino ("Lost" and "The Incredibles" -- give this guy an Oscar and a Grammy).
Facing eviction from his ancient house, the old man ties thousands of balloons to his home and flies away to South America, the dream spot of he and his now-gone bride. The Cub Scout is a stow-away, hiding on the porch. To give more away will spoil the film.
The entire film is a visual delight, with the rising of the home on all those balloons one of the great moments in animation -- the colors of the balloons vibrate and reflect a rainbow of wonder. Christopher Plummer grounds the film as a late-coming villain who is Pixar's greatest show of greed and evil yet. Dig the scene where he knocks mock skulls of prior victims of a table. Wow.
All praise to directors/writers Pete Docter and Bob Peterson (the latter who voices the scene-stealing dog, Dug.) Pixar films are built on beautifully told stories with heart and then fabulous jokes (Squirrel!!) with voice talent that isn't built on casting top stars, but the right voices. There's hardly a star here. Take that over most Dreamworks films that have flimsy stories built on jokes with highly paid voices hired to cover up the mess.
"Up" is a gem, I can't wait to see what Pixar has next. A
There Will Be Blood (2007)
"There Will be Blood" is the film of the decade. It is nothing less than the story of America’s darkest side of its greatest gifts to the world: Capitalism and religious freedom. Unfettered, unchecked and in the hands of the corrupt, they can bring about unlimited evil. Blood – and oil – flowing uncontrolled.
“Blood” is based on a book by Upton Sinclair, but plays more like the greatest John Steinbeck epic not written by John Steinbeck. The master of this darkest of dark West of Eden tales, though, is Paul Thomas Anderson ("Magnolia" and “Boogie Nights”). Whatever he gives us next, this is his greatest film.
For the first 20-odd minutes we see only Daniel Day-Lewis as Daniel Plainview, etching out, chunk by chunk, dynamite blast by dynamite blast, silver from a California mine. He is obsessed. Muttering to himself. He wants that silver, and not an ill-timed explosion and shattered leg will stop him. The silver, though, is a means to an end: Oil. Nothing can stop this man, who can’t abide other people, nor stand for others to succeed. No amount of power or money can quench his thirst. Plainview will suck California dry if he so desires. Not even his young adopted son, who he uses as a friendly face marketing tool, is spared.
Planview’s match, his warped mirror image, is the young preacher Eli Sunday (Paul Dano) who spreads a fanatical form of Christianity, with him as God for all intent and purposes, like an evil oil slick. Plainview hates religion for it detracts from his worker’s loyalty to him, and likewise Sunday hates Plainview. For quite the same reason. On their own level: How can you suck up unlimited money if you’re worshipping God, and how can you worship God if you’re busy sucking unlimited money? The Nine Inch Nails lyric “Bow down before the one you serves” comes to mind.
Much of the film focuses on these men ripping each other apart, and – at the climax -- out-performing each other in a scene that crashes and burns beautifully. For each man knows the other is an actor, of sorts, and nothing else matters except the performance. It is amazing to watch. Equally amazing are the scenes in which, despite himself, Plainview shows kindness toward others and love toward his adopted son. The displays are brief. The man buries these acts deep below his black-liquid soul. Likewise, Sunday shows massive violence, attacking his earthly father, and hissing out the words, “God does not forgive stupidity.” He ticks with this violence. These men destroy all those around them. Without a care.
The punch in the mouth: “There Will be Blood” is not a warning tale. It is a condemnation against a nation that often sees itself as not just blessed by God and the best in the world, not to be questioned, but the only country worthy of being blessed by God. The movie is only more timely now, today, as I drive in South Carolina and see billboards that proclaim “America Bless God” (He doesn’t need our blessing, folks, He’s God), and politicians and right-wing TV and radio pinheads who declare Christianity the only religion protected by the Constitution, that immigrants are vile, that businesses should remain unregulated and allowed to reign free, and others that America never apologizes. That America is right, always and forever.
Our greed for money, power and oil and our own religious fanaticism – with us out godding God, and damning those who disagree as evil and against us and Him – will lead to destruction. As with Plainview and Sunday. But there’s hope too: See the kindness and openness of the grown son.
Anderson’s world is flawless, and his clean landscapes of California rough brush beautiful. The score by Radiohead’s Jonny Greenwood is its own character, never more so when an oil rig explodes, the son loses his hearing, and Plainview watches his oil and his soul burn up. Day-Lewis is so crazy, seething brilliant, it’s beyond comprehension. Dana the actor survives this nuclear blast, a miracle, for sure.
For an extra helping of look-into-your-soul darkness, the Coen’s dark thriller “No Country for Old Men” is a helluva companion piece. By itself, or paired, though, Anderson has created the epic of our times. Unshakable. Unforgettable. A new classic forever. A+
“Blood” is based on a book by Upton Sinclair, but plays more like the greatest John Steinbeck epic not written by John Steinbeck. The master of this darkest of dark West of Eden tales, though, is Paul Thomas Anderson ("Magnolia" and “Boogie Nights”). Whatever he gives us next, this is his greatest film.
For the first 20-odd minutes we see only Daniel Day-Lewis as Daniel Plainview, etching out, chunk by chunk, dynamite blast by dynamite blast, silver from a California mine. He is obsessed. Muttering to himself. He wants that silver, and not an ill-timed explosion and shattered leg will stop him. The silver, though, is a means to an end: Oil. Nothing can stop this man, who can’t abide other people, nor stand for others to succeed. No amount of power or money can quench his thirst. Plainview will suck California dry if he so desires. Not even his young adopted son, who he uses as a friendly face marketing tool, is spared.
Planview’s match, his warped mirror image, is the young preacher Eli Sunday (Paul Dano) who spreads a fanatical form of Christianity, with him as God for all intent and purposes, like an evil oil slick. Plainview hates religion for it detracts from his worker’s loyalty to him, and likewise Sunday hates Plainview. For quite the same reason. On their own level: How can you suck up unlimited money if you’re worshipping God, and how can you worship God if you’re busy sucking unlimited money? The Nine Inch Nails lyric “Bow down before the one you serves” comes to mind.
Much of the film focuses on these men ripping each other apart, and – at the climax -- out-performing each other in a scene that crashes and burns beautifully. For each man knows the other is an actor, of sorts, and nothing else matters except the performance. It is amazing to watch. Equally amazing are the scenes in which, despite himself, Plainview shows kindness toward others and love toward his adopted son. The displays are brief. The man buries these acts deep below his black-liquid soul. Likewise, Sunday shows massive violence, attacking his earthly father, and hissing out the words, “God does not forgive stupidity.” He ticks with this violence. These men destroy all those around them. Without a care.
The punch in the mouth: “There Will be Blood” is not a warning tale. It is a condemnation against a nation that often sees itself as not just blessed by God and the best in the world, not to be questioned, but the only country worthy of being blessed by God. The movie is only more timely now, today, as I drive in South Carolina and see billboards that proclaim “America Bless God” (He doesn’t need our blessing, folks, He’s God), and politicians and right-wing TV and radio pinheads who declare Christianity the only religion protected by the Constitution, that immigrants are vile, that businesses should remain unregulated and allowed to reign free, and others that America never apologizes. That America is right, always and forever.
Our greed for money, power and oil and our own religious fanaticism – with us out godding God, and damning those who disagree as evil and against us and Him – will lead to destruction. As with Plainview and Sunday. But there’s hope too: See the kindness and openness of the grown son.
Anderson’s world is flawless, and his clean landscapes of California rough brush beautiful. The score by Radiohead’s Jonny Greenwood is its own character, never more so when an oil rig explodes, the son loses his hearing, and Plainview watches his oil and his soul burn up. Day-Lewis is so crazy, seething brilliant, it’s beyond comprehension. Dana the actor survives this nuclear blast, a miracle, for sure.
For an extra helping of look-into-your-soul darkness, the Coen’s dark thriller “No Country for Old Men” is a helluva companion piece. By itself, or paired, though, Anderson has created the epic of our times. Unshakable. Unforgettable. A new classic forever. A+
Conversations with Other Women (2006)
"Conversations with Other Women" is the "Rashomon" of romantic dramas. A split screen shows constantly evolving, changing and conflicting views, asides, thoughts and memories as a man (Aaron Eckhart) and a woman (Helena Bonham-Carter) hook up and screw at a wedding. To give away a second of the film, or even a hint of the characters is to ruin a story that changes course every time one thinks they have it cornered. Know this: Eckhart and HBC are a fantastic, sexy couple and the emotions on display dig deeper and truer than almost any film about sex and love I've seen in ages. Adults only, please. Best tip: It could be watched a dozen times, and a dozen different takes could be carried away. A-
Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa (2008)
Even at just more than 80 minutes "Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa" seems a padded, toss-off of the 2005 original. Ben Stiller, Chris Rock, David Schwimmer and Jada Pinkett Smith return as the voices of a lion, a giraffe, a zebra and a hippo, respectively. In the original, they went from New York to Madagascar for the comedy. Here, it's Madagascar to Africa. Yawn. The jokes, for the most part are OK funny, but they prop up the mediocre story. Typical Dreamworks. A great animated film (Pixar) has brilliant jokes built upon a solid story. The climax is so lame it needs a song on the soundtrack to limp by. The animation is top notch, naturally. But, who cares. C+
Monty Python's The Meaning of Life (1983)
"Monty Python's The Meaning of Life" is the lesser in the collection of films from the mad hatter British comedians. The plot is straight-forward: It asks and tells us why the hell we're here. Simple enough. Palin, Cleese, Idle and the rest give us side-splitting comedy (the sex ed in class is something to see ... or not), but the whole last portion of the film relies on vomit gags. An opening short, directed by Terry Gilliam, is dark and fascinating. It's worth a watch alone. Still, it's a winner ... love the children's song. Sick and nasty. It is Python, after all. B+
The "Star Wars" Trilogy (1977-1983)
These are my takes on the original versions, not the re-tooled versions, of the original and only trilogy. To use a terrible and unnecessary phrase, "Fuck them." Sorry, I said it. (There was a prequel trilogy, what?)
My childhood defined in a single film. "Star Wars." The 1977 science fiction master of all blockbusters is too deep within my DNA to mock, dismiss, or patronize. It is a religion to me. No, correct that, it is religion to me. Period. Untold hours of play and imagination, simply staring at the poster of the film. That said, this saga about an elderly warrior (Alec Guinness) and his young apprentice (Mark Hamill as Luke Skywalker) joining ... Oh, who am I kidding? Everyone knows this film. Onto the end: George Lucas re-made cinema and movies with this imaginative fun thrill ride, and I love it. In two hours he created a universe that exists in this geek's head as real as his hometown of Philly and his grandmother's house of cakes. But, boy, Lucas can't write a lick, and the acting is too uneven to ignore. "I have a bad feeling about this" can be (and maybe is) a drinking game. The grade is too high, for real. But I don't care. This is a great, mind-blowing film, just the desert town scenes alone, I drool, I dream, I love ... A+
"The Empire Strikes Back" is where George Lucas got smart and out-sourced. The sequel is not only the highlight of the series, but quite possibly one of the greatest fantasy films ever made. Hands down. It goes dark and deep, and yes, funny, as a wounded Luke (Mark Hamill) furthers his training under the wise and mysterious Yoda, and Han Solo (Harrison Ford) and Leigh (Carrie Fisher) meet the Dark Side in the clouds. The climax is a dizzying emotional and action powder keg as Luke learns who is daddy is, and Ford delivers the absolute perfect non-romantic romantic line of all time in the face of possible death. Seriously, the carbon freezing scene and "I know" literally is my favorite film scene ever, topped only by a breaking-bad Michael Corleone. And God bless John Williams. His score here is perfect, especially during the ugly scenes. Who's your daddy?, for sure. It's all so perfectly thrilling, I never want it to end. A+
"The Return of the Jedi" easily is the weak link in the trilogy's chain, yet one of the most thrilling moments of my young movie-going life. The film is book-ended by a fantastic Empire-centered opening then a fight in the desert between our heroes and a slimy wormy gangster named Jabba (start) and a rock solid, violent clash between Luke and Darth Vadar, plus a kick-ass space battle (end). In the middle are the Ewoks. Don't like the Ewoks? I ... know. It's easy to see what Lucas was going for: A Tolkein-like morality tale where the least of warriors (Tolkein had Hobbits, Lucas has midgets and children in cheap bear outfits) bring down the mightiest of fiendish rulers. It's a lame ass kid movie move to douse the dark heart at the center of the film, and the Ewoks do look like silly MiniMes of Wookies, but what was the alternative, an obvious Wookie battle? (OK, I want that.) Yet, I love most of this, the forest chase, that final fight, and by God I still have nightmares about the ugly desert mouth pit, and I was 9 when I saw this. The vaporish gas coming off Vadar's unmasked face, brilliant. Kills the flaws. B+
P.S. When will Lucas make a new film? Y'know, an original film?
My childhood defined in a single film. "Star Wars." The 1977 science fiction master of all blockbusters is too deep within my DNA to mock, dismiss, or patronize. It is a religion to me. No, correct that, it is religion to me. Period. Untold hours of play and imagination, simply staring at the poster of the film. That said, this saga about an elderly warrior (Alec Guinness) and his young apprentice (Mark Hamill as Luke Skywalker) joining ... Oh, who am I kidding? Everyone knows this film. Onto the end: George Lucas re-made cinema and movies with this imaginative fun thrill ride, and I love it. In two hours he created a universe that exists in this geek's head as real as his hometown of Philly and his grandmother's house of cakes. But, boy, Lucas can't write a lick, and the acting is too uneven to ignore. "I have a bad feeling about this" can be (and maybe is) a drinking game. The grade is too high, for real. But I don't care. This is a great, mind-blowing film, just the desert town scenes alone, I drool, I dream, I love ... A+
"The Empire Strikes Back" is where George Lucas got smart and out-sourced. The sequel is not only the highlight of the series, but quite possibly one of the greatest fantasy films ever made. Hands down. It goes dark and deep, and yes, funny, as a wounded Luke (Mark Hamill) furthers his training under the wise and mysterious Yoda, and Han Solo (Harrison Ford) and Leigh (Carrie Fisher) meet the Dark Side in the clouds. The climax is a dizzying emotional and action powder keg as Luke learns who is daddy is, and Ford delivers the absolute perfect non-romantic romantic line of all time in the face of possible death. Seriously, the carbon freezing scene and "I know" literally is my favorite film scene ever, topped only by a breaking-bad Michael Corleone. And God bless John Williams. His score here is perfect, especially during the ugly scenes. Who's your daddy?, for sure. It's all so perfectly thrilling, I never want it to end. A+
"The Return of the Jedi" easily is the weak link in the trilogy's chain, yet one of the most thrilling moments of my young movie-going life. The film is book-ended by a fantastic Empire-centered opening then a fight in the desert between our heroes and a slimy wormy gangster named Jabba (start) and a rock solid, violent clash between Luke and Darth Vadar, plus a kick-ass space battle (end). In the middle are the Ewoks. Don't like the Ewoks? I ... know. It's easy to see what Lucas was going for: A Tolkein-like morality tale where the least of warriors (Tolkein had Hobbits, Lucas has midgets and children in cheap bear outfits) bring down the mightiest of fiendish rulers. It's a lame ass kid movie move to douse the dark heart at the center of the film, and the Ewoks do look like silly MiniMes of Wookies, but what was the alternative, an obvious Wookie battle? (OK, I want that.) Yet, I love most of this, the forest chase, that final fight, and by God I still have nightmares about the ugly desert mouth pit, and I was 9 when I saw this. The vaporish gas coming off Vadar's unmasked face, brilliant. Kills the flaws. B+
P.S. When will Lucas make a new film? Y'know, an original film?
The Tale of Despereaux (2008)
"The Tale of Despereaux" is a beautiful-looking animated film. It literally looks like a magical children's book come to life. But this mouse is no Mickey, nor "Ratatouielle." (yeah, that's a rat. Sue me.) Despereaux (voiced by Matthew Broderick) doesn't even show until some 20 minutes in, but we get a far-cooler rat (Dustin Hoffman) up front. Err, why? There's a villain, a king, a princess and a castle, and nothing new. The story, such as it is, requires narration from Sigourney Weaver to stay afloat. Directors Sam Fell and Robert Stevenhagen got the visual eye candy down, but nothing else. As the credits roll, the film scurries from the mind like a mouse in a hole. C
Yes, Man (2008)
"Yes Man" is pure Jim Carrey. Actually it's pure "Liar, Liar" re-tooled. There, Carrey played a lawyer who couldn't tell a lie. Here, he plays a banker who can't say, "No." Hi-jinks ensure as a homeless guy bums a ride, Jehovah's Witnesses visit the door, an old woman offers oral pleasure and a chance to bungee jump presents itself. The list goes on, and the film is elementary to the point of distraction. (Carrey's banker is never offered anything truly outrageously soul-scarring. How disappointing.)
But "Yes Man" is funny and pretends to be nothing more than what it is: The 1,000th coming of Carrey's ancient "In Living Color" days. Zooey Deschanel, a knock-out star in her own right, plays the perplexed girlfriend with a zippy bike and a cute helmet. Terrance Stamp -- again -- plays a cult-like leader, this one preaching the word of, "Yes." Worth a watch. Mostly. B-
But "Yes Man" is funny and pretends to be nothing more than what it is: The 1,000th coming of Carrey's ancient "In Living Color" days. Zooey Deschanel, a knock-out star in her own right, plays the perplexed girlfriend with a zippy bike and a cute helmet. Terrance Stamp -- again -- plays a cult-like leader, this one preaching the word of, "Yes." Worth a watch. Mostly. B-
You Don't Mess With the Zohan (2008)
Getting through the first chunk of the Adam Sandler comedy/action spoof "You Don't Mess with the Zohan" is painful. I clicked it off when Sandler's character, an Israeli super soldier with unlimited strength, sodomized himself with a fish within four minutes of the start. Yet, bored the next night, I went back again.
The result is not too terrible.
The plot: Zohan -- the ultimate kick-ass Jew soldier -- dreams of coming to America to become a hair stylist. He fakes his death and steals away on a plane to the United States. He lands a job at a dinky hair salon, owned by an Arabic beauty, and in Warren Beatty style, bangs all the sex-starved female customers. Who all happen to be 60-plus. Those faux sex scenes are over-the-top, with a spray hose, shampoo and various hair creams talking the place of body parts and fluids. The stupid action comes in again when old foes -- including Rob Schneider -- figure out the lathering lothario's con.
"Zohan" is overly long, overly crude and wildly uneven, but the premise is funny and the political satire on Arabic/Jewish fighting is welcome. At one point a character insists that the religious foes have been fighting for 2,000 years, so it has to end sometime soon. The film doesn't end soon. I'm not sure if I watched the director's cut, but the near-two-hour length is a chore.
If the writing did't constantly veer toward middle school boy's bathroom humor, it'd be a good and sharp political comedy. But it isn't. Mariah Carey appears as herself, proofing again she has zero screen charisma. John Turturro, once an Oscar caliber actor, debases himself as a kinda sorta terrorist. C-
The result is not too terrible.
The plot: Zohan -- the ultimate kick-ass Jew soldier -- dreams of coming to America to become a hair stylist. He fakes his death and steals away on a plane to the United States. He lands a job at a dinky hair salon, owned by an Arabic beauty, and in Warren Beatty style, bangs all the sex-starved female customers. Who all happen to be 60-plus. Those faux sex scenes are over-the-top, with a spray hose, shampoo and various hair creams talking the place of body parts and fluids. The stupid action comes in again when old foes -- including Rob Schneider -- figure out the lathering lothario's con.
"Zohan" is overly long, overly crude and wildly uneven, but the premise is funny and the political satire on Arabic/Jewish fighting is welcome. At one point a character insists that the religious foes have been fighting for 2,000 years, so it has to end sometime soon. The film doesn't end soon. I'm not sure if I watched the director's cut, but the near-two-hour length is a chore.
If the writing did't constantly veer toward middle school boy's bathroom humor, it'd be a good and sharp political comedy. But it isn't. Mariah Carey appears as herself, proofing again she has zero screen charisma. John Turturro, once an Oscar caliber actor, debases himself as a kinda sorta terrorist. C-
Requiem for a Dream (2000)
"Requiem for a Dream," Darren Aronofsky's FUBAR bloodbath of addiction and unrealized death, is the most soul-scaring descent into hell of any film I've ever seen. Not only is it the Best Film of 2000 in my book, but star Ellen Burstyn can smoke Julia Roberts (who wrongly won the Oscar that year) in a second and not break a sweat.
The film focuses on four Brooklyn residents -- Harry (Jared Leto), Marion (Jennifer Connelly), Tyrone (Marlon Wayans) and Harry's mother, Sara (Burstyn) -- who all are addicted to drugs in some way. For the three youths, there is heroin and pot. For mother, there are upper and downer diet pills.
But this horror film, scarier than anything in "The Exorcist" or any slasher film, doesn't stop there. It shows the full range of life's addictions to love, food, TV, fame, great sex, beauty, acceptance, youth, loss of a loved one and even wanting to be a better person. Addiction, the film says, is all around and will destroy every one of us. We need only pick our poison. We all suffer.
Burstyn's performance is absolutely devastating, and as Sara's body and mind literally melt away, her acting becomes unmatched in 2000 or nearly any other year. The rest of the cast, including a sweetly beautiful then shockingly depraved Connelly, also are fantastic.
Working from a famed novel, Aronofsky ("Pi") never hits the brakes nor does he wince at the absolute devastation that these lives endure. This is his masterpiece, a plunge into hell which leaves the viewer shaken and hollowed out. Clint Mansell's score is phenomenal, and serves as the background horror-house soundtrack on this tour ride of death. Except that death would be an easy way out for our four people.
And, here, the film suggests the luckiest drug addicts end up dead. The unlucky live on, and wait for a death that won't come soon enough. Their friends, loves ones, can only watch. This film -- despite the NC-17 material -- literally ought to be shown in high schools across the country. A+
The film focuses on four Brooklyn residents -- Harry (Jared Leto), Marion (Jennifer Connelly), Tyrone (Marlon Wayans) and Harry's mother, Sara (Burstyn) -- who all are addicted to drugs in some way. For the three youths, there is heroin and pot. For mother, there are upper and downer diet pills.
But this horror film, scarier than anything in "The Exorcist" or any slasher film, doesn't stop there. It shows the full range of life's addictions to love, food, TV, fame, great sex, beauty, acceptance, youth, loss of a loved one and even wanting to be a better person. Addiction, the film says, is all around and will destroy every one of us. We need only pick our poison. We all suffer.
Burstyn's performance is absolutely devastating, and as Sara's body and mind literally melt away, her acting becomes unmatched in 2000 or nearly any other year. The rest of the cast, including a sweetly beautiful then shockingly depraved Connelly, also are fantastic.
Working from a famed novel, Aronofsky ("Pi") never hits the brakes nor does he wince at the absolute devastation that these lives endure. This is his masterpiece, a plunge into hell which leaves the viewer shaken and hollowed out. Clint Mansell's score is phenomenal, and serves as the background horror-house soundtrack on this tour ride of death. Except that death would be an easy way out for our four people.
And, here, the film suggests the luckiest drug addicts end up dead. The unlucky live on, and wait for a death that won't come soon enough. Their friends, loves ones, can only watch. This film -- despite the NC-17 material -- literally ought to be shown in high schools across the country. A+
Spider-Man (2002)
I still truly want to love the "Spider-Man" film. I had been waiting my entire geek life for a big screen adaptation worthy of the comic book exploits of my favorite superhero, and I got it in 2002. After all, I was vastly disappointed even at age 5 by a late 1970s TV film version. But I can't love this film. Despite director Sam Raimi ("A Simple Plan") pitching the ball high, and Tobey Maguire ("The Cider House Rules") is the ideal player for Peter Parker, the nerd who's bitten by a radioactive (or genetically altered here) spider and gains the ability to do whatever a spider can.
The film reaches a perfect Marvel highpoint in a dazzling scene where a distraught Parker, wearing jeans and a red sweatshirt, tracks the thug who shot his beloved Uncle Ben. Raimi and his VFX crew allow the viewer to feel like he or she is Spider-Man, swinging and leaping from one NYC skyscraper to the next. Then the hour mark hits, and the film just breaks apart with the full appearance of the Green Goblin. That would be Willem Dafoe as Norman Osborn -- the genius scientist and father of Parker's only friend Harry -- who's gone insane after an experiment gone wrong.
It's not Dafoe's fault. It's the damn costume -- metallic, cheap and with a helmet that looks like an inverted penis, the character is laughable bad. Each encounter between hero and villain grows more tiresome as you see Dafoe's near-hidden mouth mimic words behind this dumb mask that looks painful to wear. It kills the film.
Nit-pickling? Yes. But every comic book story rests not on its super hero but the villains he or she is pitted against, and this one fails. My disappointments here were corrected in the vastly better sequel. As the soon-to-be doomed Harry, James Franco skates circles around Maguire in acting and charisma. He's the breakout star here. B
The film reaches a perfect Marvel highpoint in a dazzling scene where a distraught Parker, wearing jeans and a red sweatshirt, tracks the thug who shot his beloved Uncle Ben. Raimi and his VFX crew allow the viewer to feel like he or she is Spider-Man, swinging and leaping from one NYC skyscraper to the next. Then the hour mark hits, and the film just breaks apart with the full appearance of the Green Goblin. That would be Willem Dafoe as Norman Osborn -- the genius scientist and father of Parker's only friend Harry -- who's gone insane after an experiment gone wrong.
It's not Dafoe's fault. It's the damn costume -- metallic, cheap and with a helmet that looks like an inverted penis, the character is laughable bad. Each encounter between hero and villain grows more tiresome as you see Dafoe's near-hidden mouth mimic words behind this dumb mask that looks painful to wear. It kills the film.
Nit-pickling? Yes. But every comic book story rests not on its super hero but the villains he or she is pitted against, and this one fails. My disappointments here were corrected in the vastly better sequel. As the soon-to-be doomed Harry, James Franco skates circles around Maguire in acting and charisma. He's the breakout star here. B
The Darjeeling Limited (2007)
Wes Anderson's films are love letters to quirky people and to their messy lives and the lovely music that serves as their soundtrack. In "The Darjeeling Limited," we follow three estranged brothers (Adrien Brody, Owen Wilson and Jason Schwartzman) as they reunite on an Indian train for a so-called spiritual journey. Each is equally messed up, and carries an addiction to one drug or another, or many.
Not as brilliant as "Rushmore" or Anderson's earlier films, it's still a winner as we watch the messy noise and emotions of people who are related, but who can't relate, come together. Wilson, who normally tires me, nails the role of the tight-wad control freak eldest brother who has had his face smashed in. (That Wilson has always looked like he's had his face smashed in is perfect.) He uses his laconic laid-book coolness as weapon, as if he naturally knows what's best for everyone around him, and is shocked dumb that no one can figure it out.
The film is funny, sweet and when it takes a dramatic turn, soulful. It makes anyone who doesn't talk to his own brothers, long for a train ride. As always, the music, sights and performances all are top notch. Angelica Houston, another regular player of Anderson, appears, as does Bill Murray in a briefly funny and pointless role. B+
Not as brilliant as "Rushmore" or Anderson's earlier films, it's still a winner as we watch the messy noise and emotions of people who are related, but who can't relate, come together. Wilson, who normally tires me, nails the role of the tight-wad control freak eldest brother who has had his face smashed in. (That Wilson has always looked like he's had his face smashed in is perfect.) He uses his laconic laid-book coolness as weapon, as if he naturally knows what's best for everyone around him, and is shocked dumb that no one can figure it out.
The film is funny, sweet and when it takes a dramatic turn, soulful. It makes anyone who doesn't talk to his own brothers, long for a train ride. As always, the music, sights and performances all are top notch. Angelica Houston, another regular player of Anderson, appears, as does Bill Murray in a briefly funny and pointless role. B+
Bedtime Stories (2008)
I could focus on how lame and unfunny the Adam Sandler family comedy "Bedtime Stories" is, but it's just not worth the effort. Sandler's haircut looks like Dustin Hoffman's cheap clip job from "Rain Man" and his hotel handyman character is about as funny as the elder Babbitt brother. But I'm more shocked that Guy Pearce ("Memento") is forced to mug here as the villain. Man looks as if he wants to forget making this film. Where has his career gone? British shock comedian/bad seed Russell Brand adds needed spark and fire with a few quick scenes. But who thought it was wise to let him near children? D-
Revolutionary Road (2008)
"Revolutionary Road" aims to be a soul-splitting film about the miserable marriage of a couple (Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet) in 1950s suburban America. He's a salesman who longs for a new, exciting career, but still enjoys screwing the office girls during lunch breaks. She's the wife/mother trapped at home and longing for her sacrificed acting career and a life in exciting Paris. They have two children, and an unplanned third pregnancy instigates a long-brewing fight.
It's a good film for the most part, with director Sam Mendes serving up a beautiful recreation of an America that shimmered on the outside but reeked from within. The film nails the plight of most women in pre-1960s America: When they got married, they gave up living and only existed to serve. Men had choice in their married life with a career. It might not be perfect, but it still was a choice.
The film falls apart with its display of domestic warfare. As Winslet and DiCaprio tear each other apart emotionally and physically, for hours at a time, even during an entire day and night, the children are never around. It's explained the tykes are at a party or the babysitter's ... and it reads false at every turn.
If Mendes, screenwriter Justin Haythe and our two leads wanted to really serve a harrowing tale of a hellish family life, then they needed those children to witness every mental-torture fight of this marriage. It's a huge contrived hole meant to win or give the leads sympathy, and anyone who grew up watching his parents consistently go at it can smell this falsehood a mile away. The film rattles the brain, but it draws no blood. It should cut deep, not slight. B-
It's a good film for the most part, with director Sam Mendes serving up a beautiful recreation of an America that shimmered on the outside but reeked from within. The film nails the plight of most women in pre-1960s America: When they got married, they gave up living and only existed to serve. Men had choice in their married life with a career. It might not be perfect, but it still was a choice.
The film falls apart with its display of domestic warfare. As Winslet and DiCaprio tear each other apart emotionally and physically, for hours at a time, even during an entire day and night, the children are never around. It's explained the tykes are at a party or the babysitter's ... and it reads false at every turn.
If Mendes, screenwriter Justin Haythe and our two leads wanted to really serve a harrowing tale of a hellish family life, then they needed those children to witness every mental-torture fight of this marriage. It's a huge contrived hole meant to win or give the leads sympathy, and anyone who grew up watching his parents consistently go at it can smell this falsehood a mile away. The film rattles the brain, but it draws no blood. It should cut deep, not slight. B-
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Rumble in the Bronx (1996)
Jackie Chan's "Rumble in the Bronx" is a quick Hong Kong action/comedy that brought the legendary stuntman/martial artist to America. The plot: Chan's good-two-shoes fights neighborhood thugs and mastermind criminals in NYC. The acting and dialogue is silly to a fault (one wonders if half the actors aren't ... uhh ... mentally disabled), but the action and stunts are pure joy, and it's all over in less than 90 minutes. And if you think this film was shot in the Bronx, then you don't know New York from Barren County, Kentucky. B
Righteous Kill (2008) and King of Comedy (1982)
"Righteous Kill" was supposed to give true film fans the Al Pacino/ Robert De Niro reunion they've been itching for since the Michael Mann-directed 1995 classic "Heat." Sadly this thriller is a crap dud from director Jon Avnet (who made crap dud "88 Minutes," also with Pacino) and has all the heat of a bad "Scooby Doo" episode mixed with old tired cliches about old tired cops that stank when "Hill Street Blues" was on the air.
The plot: Veteran NYC cops Turk (De Niro) and Rooster (Pacino) are on the hunt for a serial killer who's offing the city's most notorious scumbags. (Like cops would care.) Blame falls on seething fireball Turk, but ... did he do it? The answer is so brain dead simple, I kept hoping I was wrong. I wasn't.
De Niro looks like he has a kidney stone. Pacino at least keeps his "hoo-ha" acting on low broil. For awhile. Carla Gugino ("Karen Cisco") plays a forensics cop with a rape fetish who's bonking Turk. Her character, transplanted from a bad Sharon Stone film, is the most interesting mug on screen, even if she is a sick male fantasy.
A few bits of sharp dialogue in the script written by Russell Gewirtz help, but not much. The climax is as obvious, noisy and silly as the ending of "Heat" was stylish, understated and epic. The days when Pacino and De Niro were exciting are gone. They just need to quit. D-
But, De Niro is a god -- a delusional, pathetic, mamma's boy god -- in the brilliant "The King of Comedy," a 1982 pitch-black dark comedy jewel from director Martin Scorsese. De Niro literally morphs his body and larger-than-life essence to play the dweebish Rupert Pupkin, a wannabe comedian who plays to an audience of cardboard cut outs and wall art in the basement of his mother's house. Pure sick joy this film is.
Pupkin longs to be on a Johnny Carson-like show hosted by Jerry Langford (Jerry Lewis), the God to Rupert's Job. Kicking out a rabid "fan" from Jerry's limo, Rupert inserts himself into the life of his idol and seeks advice on how to win fame and glory. The kicker: Jerry is a lonely prick who cares for no one but himself, and when he blows off Rupert, our anti-hero is too dense to notice.
Instead, Rupert marches on, in love with Jerry and fame. The obsession turns nasty when Pupkin recruits his friend, the rabid fan (Sandra Bernhardt), from the limo, to help kidnap Jerry. The film is madly funny and nails the psyche of a deranged man who believes the world owes him and needs him.
Whole scenes, quite possibly the entire finale, take place inside Rupert's twisted sewer pipe mind, where he is loved and adored. De Niro gives a fully fleshed out performance, one that he would later piss away in the god-awful "The Fan." Pupkin is certainly all that I have described, but he's not to be hated. He is our deranged hero.
It's Lewis' acid blood Langford who's the true villain here. Lewis is a great actor. And what a great film to get us to root for a perv sicko. This is a sick mind screw of a film, worthy of a dozen viewings. A
The plot: Veteran NYC cops Turk (De Niro) and Rooster (Pacino) are on the hunt for a serial killer who's offing the city's most notorious scumbags. (Like cops would care.) Blame falls on seething fireball Turk, but ... did he do it? The answer is so brain dead simple, I kept hoping I was wrong. I wasn't.
De Niro looks like he has a kidney stone. Pacino at least keeps his "hoo-ha" acting on low broil. For awhile. Carla Gugino ("Karen Cisco") plays a forensics cop with a rape fetish who's bonking Turk. Her character, transplanted from a bad Sharon Stone film, is the most interesting mug on screen, even if she is a sick male fantasy.
A few bits of sharp dialogue in the script written by Russell Gewirtz help, but not much. The climax is as obvious, noisy and silly as the ending of "Heat" was stylish, understated and epic. The days when Pacino and De Niro were exciting are gone. They just need to quit. D-
But, De Niro is a god -- a delusional, pathetic, mamma's boy god -- in the brilliant "The King of Comedy," a 1982 pitch-black dark comedy jewel from director Martin Scorsese. De Niro literally morphs his body and larger-than-life essence to play the dweebish Rupert Pupkin, a wannabe comedian who plays to an audience of cardboard cut outs and wall art in the basement of his mother's house. Pure sick joy this film is.
Pupkin longs to be on a Johnny Carson-like show hosted by Jerry Langford (Jerry Lewis), the God to Rupert's Job. Kicking out a rabid "fan" from Jerry's limo, Rupert inserts himself into the life of his idol and seeks advice on how to win fame and glory. The kicker: Jerry is a lonely prick who cares for no one but himself, and when he blows off Rupert, our anti-hero is too dense to notice.
Instead, Rupert marches on, in love with Jerry and fame. The obsession turns nasty when Pupkin recruits his friend, the rabid fan (Sandra Bernhardt), from the limo, to help kidnap Jerry. The film is madly funny and nails the psyche of a deranged man who believes the world owes him and needs him.
Whole scenes, quite possibly the entire finale, take place inside Rupert's twisted sewer pipe mind, where he is loved and adored. De Niro gives a fully fleshed out performance, one that he would later piss away in the god-awful "The Fan." Pupkin is certainly all that I have described, but he's not to be hated. He is our deranged hero.
It's Lewis' acid blood Langford who's the true villain here. Lewis is a great actor. And what a great film to get us to root for a perv sicko. This is a sick mind screw of a film, worthy of a dozen viewings. A
Around the World in 80 Days (2004)
I've not read the Jules Verne's "Around the World in 80 Days," but I know enough about it to realize that this adaptation pisses on the original's intent. It tries to be everything modern -- slapstick comedy, martial arts flick (!?!) and wink-wink nudge-nudge Hollywood spectacle -- and fails all around. Phileas Fogg (Steve Coogan) is played as a loony twit who can't figure out his French servant, Passepartout (Jackie Chan), is Chinese. Arnold Schwarzenegger, among the guest stars, embarrasses himself as a Turkish prince. The whole thing is an embarrassment, from start to finish. I've seen the more awful 1950s film take. That sucker could be used to torture peeps our boys in green bust for terrorism. This version could finish the job. D+
French Kiss (1995)
In "French Kiss," Meg Ryan plays another cutesy, unlucky in love woman who must learn that happiness and life cannot be built upon the approval and existence of a man. She realizes this while roaming around France with a con artist lug (Kevin Kline) who constantly lies to her. She then cashes in her life savings and focuses her entire happiness and life around Kline's borderline criminal/dreamer. Why? Becuase women in romcom films never learn that that first lesson is a lie. Directed by Lawrence Kasdan, this folly makes "You've Got Mail" and "Sleepless in Seattle" seem enlightening, while giving a left hook to feminism. Did Ryan's character even have a job? I hate this movie. Hate. And every stab at independence for women it represents. F
Pan's Labyrinth (2006)
I can't say enough about "Pan's Labyrinth" ("El Laberinto del fauno") ... it's one of my all-time favorites, and not just because I caught a late-night show in NYC upon its initial release. (Is there a better city in the world to see a film then walk out into the night? Hell, no.)
Written and directed by the brilliant Guillermo del Toro, it follows Ofelia (Ivana Baquero) the child of a dead tailor and a hugely pregnant, horribly ill mother (Ariadna Gil) now married to a sadistic fascist colonel (Sergi Lopez) in the Spanish army circa 1940s. The country still is under mass civil war and disorder; violent death is every where.
Ofelia comes to live with the colonel ("He's not my father") at a house in the middle of the rural woods. Behind this house is an ancient labyrinth. To all adults, it's a simple maze with pretty stone workmanship. To Ofelia, it is the portal to her real birth world, where she is the princess of a God-like king and queen, her parents.
Her only contact, the only way into this heaven, is a mysterious tree-like faun. The faun tells Ofelia she must prove herself worthy to him to regain her throne, under her parents. She must take a key from a fat, disgusting frog, then take that key and enter the dining hall of a demon and open a cabinet to take a knife. Then she must let her new brother (the prince) bleed by the knife.
Del Toro's film is so complex and layered, so rich with strong religious and "Alice in Wonderland" overtones, one can watch the film a dozen time and pick up on new themes, messages and feelings. Indeed, as Spain and likewise Ofelia's new family's house/army base sinks further into savage violence, so does the girl's secret world.
Is the faun becoming a sadist, like the colonel, or is he testing Ofelia's good will, her Christ-like love? The most important question at the end of the film: Did Ofelia imagine her world of fauns, demons, a king and queen? I change my mind every time as the blood-soaked FUBAR ending is wonderfully, eternally debatable. Right now, this instant, I think all is lost, this is a film of doom.
I never waver, though, on how much I love this film -- its look, the intricate plot, the magic, the demon in that dining hall with eyes in his palms and skin melting off his twig body, and the rivers of blood. I love the film's refusal to be sentimental, to paint violence with an uncensored brush that is shocking to watch even after a dozen views. This is an adults-only film in the clothes of a child.
From the very opening scene, del Toro promises a grim but fantastic journey, and he delivers. Baquero gives one of the best child performances I can remember. Lopez is pure fhk'n evil as the depraved colonel hell bent on dying violently, and as the faun and the saggy-skinned monster, Doug Jones should have gotten some type of Oscar. What kind, I can't say. A+
Written and directed by the brilliant Guillermo del Toro, it follows Ofelia (Ivana Baquero) the child of a dead tailor and a hugely pregnant, horribly ill mother (Ariadna Gil) now married to a sadistic fascist colonel (Sergi Lopez) in the Spanish army circa 1940s. The country still is under mass civil war and disorder; violent death is every where.
Ofelia comes to live with the colonel ("He's not my father") at a house in the middle of the rural woods. Behind this house is an ancient labyrinth. To all adults, it's a simple maze with pretty stone workmanship. To Ofelia, it is the portal to her real birth world, where she is the princess of a God-like king and queen, her parents.
Her only contact, the only way into this heaven, is a mysterious tree-like faun. The faun tells Ofelia she must prove herself worthy to him to regain her throne, under her parents. She must take a key from a fat, disgusting frog, then take that key and enter the dining hall of a demon and open a cabinet to take a knife. Then she must let her new brother (the prince) bleed by the knife.
Del Toro's film is so complex and layered, so rich with strong religious and "Alice in Wonderland" overtones, one can watch the film a dozen time and pick up on new themes, messages and feelings. Indeed, as Spain and likewise Ofelia's new family's house/army base sinks further into savage violence, so does the girl's secret world.
Is the faun becoming a sadist, like the colonel, or is he testing Ofelia's good will, her Christ-like love? The most important question at the end of the film: Did Ofelia imagine her world of fauns, demons, a king and queen? I change my mind every time as the blood-soaked FUBAR ending is wonderfully, eternally debatable. Right now, this instant, I think all is lost, this is a film of doom.
I never waver, though, on how much I love this film -- its look, the intricate plot, the magic, the demon in that dining hall with eyes in his palms and skin melting off his twig body, and the rivers of blood. I love the film's refusal to be sentimental, to paint violence with an uncensored brush that is shocking to watch even after a dozen views. This is an adults-only film in the clothes of a child.
From the very opening scene, del Toro promises a grim but fantastic journey, and he delivers. Baquero gives one of the best child performances I can remember. Lopez is pure fhk'n evil as the depraved colonel hell bent on dying violently, and as the faun and the saggy-skinned monster, Doug Jones should have gotten some type of Oscar. What kind, I can't say. A+
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (2007)
"The Diving Bell and the Butterfly" is the true story of the late "Elle" editor Jean-Dominique Bauby, who suffered a catastrophic health crisis that left him completely paralyzed from head to toe, except for his eye lids. His mind is left in perfect form. A witty, brilliant, womanizing star of French culture circa 1990s, Bauby is reduced to a captive of his own body. He can think clearly, joke, cry and ruminate on his unimaginable sentence from God inside his head. Just as the film comes within a hair of being a downer, Bauby snaps out of his self-loathing funk and decides to author a book about his life. He communicates by blinking "yes" or "no" to a series of letters read to him from his nurse, and then an assistant.
Directed by Julian Schnabel and starring Mathieu Amalric ("Quantum of Solace") this is a fantastic film, deeply felt and wonderfully acted. Amalric's left eye becomes the focal point of his performance. Daring stuff. It works. The film captures the view of Bauby from bed, from light flashes and hallucinations to bored hours watching TV and having people stare you in the face, all bleeding across his eye. Schnabel brings the audience into the mind trap of this man, and for two hours, lets us feel his pain. A
Directed by Julian Schnabel and starring Mathieu Amalric ("Quantum of Solace") this is a fantastic film, deeply felt and wonderfully acted. Amalric's left eye becomes the focal point of his performance. Daring stuff. It works. The film captures the view of Bauby from bed, from light flashes and hallucinations to bored hours watching TV and having people stare you in the face, all bleeding across his eye. Schnabel brings the audience into the mind trap of this man, and for two hours, lets us feel his pain. A
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Across the Universe (2007)
Julie Taymor made the ultra-violent and bizarre "Titus" and the ultra-quirky and visual "Frida." Her latest, "Across the Universe" is interesting, but it's too way ultra-everything for its own good.
The film follows several young adults (including Evan Rachel Wood and Jim Sturgess) as they struggle through the 1960s, going to war or avoiding war. Music from The Beatles is sung by the cast as the film's central nervous system and heart. The film stops dead in its track often for long animated musical numbers that wear thin. A character named Prudence is given a wonderful intro and a good story (she's gay when being gay was way out of line) but is dropped without explanation mid-way through the film.
Taymor's vision in "Titus" and "Frida" served the films. The cart and horse are reversed here. More Prudence and prudence is needed. Bono, Eddie Izzard, Joe Cochran and other cool guys have cameos. C+
The film follows several young adults (including Evan Rachel Wood and Jim Sturgess) as they struggle through the 1960s, going to war or avoiding war. Music from The Beatles is sung by the cast as the film's central nervous system and heart. The film stops dead in its track often for long animated musical numbers that wear thin. A character named Prudence is given a wonderful intro and a good story (she's gay when being gay was way out of line) but is dropped without explanation mid-way through the film.
Taymor's vision in "Titus" and "Frida" served the films. The cart and horse are reversed here. More Prudence and prudence is needed. Bono, Eddie Izzard, Joe Cochran and other cool guys have cameos. C+
Ghost Town (2008)
"Ghost Town" is not a film worthy of big-screen treatment, but this smallish comedy is a good DVD to watch from the couch. Ricky Gervais plays an uptight, a-hole NYC dentist who dies (a little bit, not long) during routine surgery and wakes up with the ability to see and hear the not-yet dearly departed.
Among his new "friends" is a dead adulterer (Greg Kinnear) who seemingly doesn't want his widow (Tea Leoni) to find happiness with another man. No one is better at milking a prick for long uncomfortable bouts of laughter than Gervais, and he is just perfect here. He's the sole and soul reason to see this film.
I didn't much care for the predictable, forced ending, but that's par for the course in romantic comedies. B
Among his new "friends" is a dead adulterer (Greg Kinnear) who seemingly doesn't want his widow (Tea Leoni) to find happiness with another man. No one is better at milking a prick for long uncomfortable bouts of laughter than Gervais, and he is just perfect here. He's the sole and soul reason to see this film.
I didn't much care for the predictable, forced ending, but that's par for the course in romantic comedies. B
Watchmen (2009)
As far as film adoptions of great books go, "Watchmen" is as good as it could be. Based on the famed 1980s comic book series turned graphic novel by Allan Moore and David Gibbons, this nearly three-hour epic follows a group of disturbed, weird and literally deranged "superheroes" as they try and do good in an alternate American reality where Nixon is a fifth-term president and Vietnam is a success story.
And the "good" part isn't entirely truthful, to be truthful. This film makes "The Dark Knight" seem like a 1970s Saturday morning kids cartoon. Case in point: The main hero is Rorschach (Jackie Earle Haley), a trench-coat vigilante prone to murdering suspects without a thought, and whose identity is not unveiled until the mid-way point. He's Batman mixed with Jack the Ripper. And a Marlowe book. Other "heroes" include Dr. Manhattan (Billy Crudup), a glowing blue god-like man who walks about without clothes or emotion. Think Superman, but one apathetic to the point of sinful. Patrick Wilson plays Nite Owl, another take on Batman, but one dull and blubbery, while Jeffrey Morgan plays The Comedian, a Captain America-like hero ... if Captain America were a psychopathic fascist prone to killing women. Malin Akerman rounds out the main cast as Silk Spectre, the lone female of the group with her own baggage of issues and insecurities.
The plot: The Comedian is killed and attempts are made on the other heroes, all leading to a massive conspiracy. The book is a sprawling, disturbing epic about the types of people who really would wear silly costumes and attempt to fight crime. Basically, these are people who ought to be straight-jacketed. Director Zack Snyder ("300") does a hell of a job transferring what was in print to screen. A good deal is lost in the transfer, though, and one wishes for the inevitable longer DVD cut.
The film has its faults: Another "hero" named Ozymandias is the smartest man in the world and the Nazi wet dream of the beautiful and perfect White Man on the page. But on screen, as played by Matthew Goode, he's dull as Tupperware and ... uhh ... not exactly an Alpha Male. More like a band geek. This should have, say, Aaron Eckhart in the role. The handling of Silk Spectre also is fumbled as a female hero who rallies against sexism in the book is reduced to a sexist caricature on screen.
Still, it's a spectacular try, and I'm a fan. The dark emotions and psyches explored here make for riveting drama and great debate, and play close to real folks who see themsleves as better than the rest. Snyder also has a great eye, and knows how to cut an action scene. The violence is shocking and savage like the book, and is absolutely not for children. B
And the "good" part isn't entirely truthful, to be truthful. This film makes "The Dark Knight" seem like a 1970s Saturday morning kids cartoon. Case in point: The main hero is Rorschach (Jackie Earle Haley), a trench-coat vigilante prone to murdering suspects without a thought, and whose identity is not unveiled until the mid-way point. He's Batman mixed with Jack the Ripper. And a Marlowe book. Other "heroes" include Dr. Manhattan (Billy Crudup), a glowing blue god-like man who walks about without clothes or emotion. Think Superman, but one apathetic to the point of sinful. Patrick Wilson plays Nite Owl, another take on Batman, but one dull and blubbery, while Jeffrey Morgan plays The Comedian, a Captain America-like hero ... if Captain America were a psychopathic fascist prone to killing women. Malin Akerman rounds out the main cast as Silk Spectre, the lone female of the group with her own baggage of issues and insecurities.
The plot: The Comedian is killed and attempts are made on the other heroes, all leading to a massive conspiracy. The book is a sprawling, disturbing epic about the types of people who really would wear silly costumes and attempt to fight crime. Basically, these are people who ought to be straight-jacketed. Director Zack Snyder ("300") does a hell of a job transferring what was in print to screen. A good deal is lost in the transfer, though, and one wishes for the inevitable longer DVD cut.
The film has its faults: Another "hero" named Ozymandias is the smartest man in the world and the Nazi wet dream of the beautiful and perfect White Man on the page. But on screen, as played by Matthew Goode, he's dull as Tupperware and ... uhh ... not exactly an Alpha Male. More like a band geek. This should have, say, Aaron Eckhart in the role. The handling of Silk Spectre also is fumbled as a female hero who rallies against sexism in the book is reduced to a sexist caricature on screen.
Still, it's a spectacular try, and I'm a fan. The dark emotions and psyches explored here make for riveting drama and great debate, and play close to real folks who see themsleves as better than the rest. Snyder also has a great eye, and knows how to cut an action scene. The violence is shocking and savage like the book, and is absolutely not for children. B
Dick Tracy (1990)
The live action all-star "Dick Tracy" is pure eye candy -- fun and silly. Let's get it out in front: The plot stinks. Bad. Rotten. But that's beside the point. Warren Beatty directs and stars as Tracy, helped by Al Pacino, Dustin Huffman, Glenne Headly, William Forsythe, Kathy Bates, Paul Sorvino, Dick Van Dyke and a bunch more. Pacino is the stand out as Big Boy Caprice, a hysterically incompetent Al Capone clone with a Hitler haircut and no sense of history or leadership. For once, Pacino's gift for over-acting works in his favor. It's comedy brilliance. The whacked makeup, eye-popping art direction and giddy costumes all invoke the feel of the Sunday morning comic strip. It really is a beautiful-looking fun film. And wonders of wonders, Madonna, as a lounge singer, is good. The awkward sexual asides belong in another film, though. I fondly recall my younger brother wanting to be the kid (Charlie Korsmo) in this. Gingers they sure as hell stick together ... B+
Max Payne (2008)
"Max Payne" is a paint-by-numbers shoot 'em up about a cop gunning for the criminals who killed his family years before. Scowling and scowling some more, a scowling Mark Wahlberg plays the title character who finds himself involved in a giant conspiracy typical of bad shoot 'em up films. I guessed the villain just by looking at the credits and thinking of one person, "What's he doing here?" The direction by John Moore is over-the-top and flat-out dumb. In one scene, a hooker covers herself with a sheet -- before offering herself sexually to Max. Huh? Oh, the PG-13 rating. Riiight. Nearly every gun battle is shot in slow-mo, the badge of honor for any director who can't stage action. Wahlberg, better than this, could have been replaced by the wooden duck my father gave me when I was 1. It's all based on a video game, the first hint this is junk. C-
The Orphanage (2008)
"The Orphanage" ("El Orfornato") definitely comes from the mind of Guillermo del Toro, who directed "Pan's Labyrinth" and "Devil's Backbone." But Jan Bayona is the helmer here as del Toro only produced. Nevertheless, like those great films, this is a gorgeous gem dealing with children, death, supernatural forces and raw-nerve endings. This fascinating, unnerving film mixes, I kid you not, "Peter Pan" with "Poltergeist" with "The Elephant Man," with a heart-startling shot of startling originality and the nastiest "hit by a truck" scene you'll ever see. Plus the stomach punch found in Spanish films. This ain't no American "feel good" film. The ending puts a kick to the gut. A
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
The Producers (1968)
"The Producers" is my favorite comedy of all time.
From the start, this 1968 Mel Brooks comedy about two men intentionally producing the ultimate Broadway bomb in order to make a fortune is a sick, twisted and nasty joke. It opens with Zero Mostel as Max Bialystock making it with an elderly widow. Sex. He seeks her money, she seeks a fucking thrill. Tit-for-tat. He has lots of these encounters, you see. In walks Leo Bloom (Gene Wilder), a panic-prone accountant with no spine. Poking around Max's cooked books, Bloom realizes that a producer can make more money off a Broadway bomb than a Broadway hit. The con is on as the two men finance a sure-fire dud in "Springtime for Hitler" -- a glowing Nazi tribute written by a fanatical SS loyalist. Sick. Twisted. Nasty.
The laugh per minute ratio is God-sized high, none more so than the realization that Brooks is ripping Hollywood's low tastes, not Broadways. Brooks' staging of the play within the film is so offensive, it's brilliant.
The cast is on all cylinders from Mostel and Wilder to Kenneth Mars ("Young Frankenstein") as the Nazi and Christopher Hewitt ("Mr. Belvedere") as a cross-dressing gay director. PC this is not, thank God. Every line is a classic and endlessly quotable. Avoid the terrible musical remake; it's offensively bad. A+
From the start, this 1968 Mel Brooks comedy about two men intentionally producing the ultimate Broadway bomb in order to make a fortune is a sick, twisted and nasty joke. It opens with Zero Mostel as Max Bialystock making it with an elderly widow. Sex. He seeks her money, she seeks a fucking thrill. Tit-for-tat. He has lots of these encounters, you see. In walks Leo Bloom (Gene Wilder), a panic-prone accountant with no spine. Poking around Max's cooked books, Bloom realizes that a producer can make more money off a Broadway bomb than a Broadway hit. The con is on as the two men finance a sure-fire dud in "Springtime for Hitler" -- a glowing Nazi tribute written by a fanatical SS loyalist. Sick. Twisted. Nasty.
The laugh per minute ratio is God-sized high, none more so than the realization that Brooks is ripping Hollywood's low tastes, not Broadways. Brooks' staging of the play within the film is so offensive, it's brilliant.
The cast is on all cylinders from Mostel and Wilder to Kenneth Mars ("Young Frankenstein") as the Nazi and Christopher Hewitt ("Mr. Belvedere") as a cross-dressing gay director. PC this is not, thank God. Every line is a classic and endlessly quotable. Avoid the terrible musical remake; it's offensively bad. A+
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Blood Simple (1984) and Miller's Crossing (1990)
I love me some Coen Brothers. Love 'em, and here's two of their best. Freakin' awesome films.
I recently read an interview where director Danny Boyle ("Slumdog Millionaire") discusses the brothers Joel and Ethan. "Blood Simple," he says, is their first and best film. It's hard to disagree with that. (Well, see below.) Set in Texas, this pitch-black film noir ala "Twilight Zone" comedy follows the twisting rotten relationship between two lovers (Frances McDormand and John Getz), an unbalanced husband (Dan Hedaya) and a cackling, double-crossing psychopathic P.I. (M. Emmet Walsh). With gallons of bloods and one character who won't stay dead, this crackles with intense suspense and a sickeningly funny, hair-raising climax. The game is raised by Barry Sonnenfeld's wandering, roving and jumping camera, and Walsh's evil yellow-suited cowboy. He's still the Coens' most devious creation; his laugh is unforgettable. The film, too.
"Miller's Crossing" is another classic from Joel and Ethan, this one mixing in classics "The Godfather" with "Yojimbo" and a dozen other double-cross films involving Bogart-era mobsters, dames, bookies and hoods in the woods. Oh, and some sickly dark comedy. Gabriel Byrne has never been better or cooler as Tom, a mafia lieutenant who breaks with his boss (Albert Finney) to join the other side (led by John Polito) while juggling a tramp girlfriend (Marcia Gay Harden) and her gay sleazebag bookie brother (John Turturro). Smart, brilliant, and a knowing tribute/smack down to all crime films, every shot is a work of art and every character fascinating. There's whip smart and funny dialogue, too. Midway through the film the Coens give us a scene that they have yet to top: Byrne, pistol in hand, stalking a screaming, screeching Turturro into a forest. Hell, the whole film may be their best.
Both films: A+
I recently read an interview where director Danny Boyle ("Slumdog Millionaire") discusses the brothers Joel and Ethan. "Blood Simple," he says, is their first and best film. It's hard to disagree with that. (Well, see below.) Set in Texas, this pitch-black film noir ala "Twilight Zone" comedy follows the twisting rotten relationship between two lovers (Frances McDormand and John Getz), an unbalanced husband (Dan Hedaya) and a cackling, double-crossing psychopathic P.I. (M. Emmet Walsh). With gallons of bloods and one character who won't stay dead, this crackles with intense suspense and a sickeningly funny, hair-raising climax. The game is raised by Barry Sonnenfeld's wandering, roving and jumping camera, and Walsh's evil yellow-suited cowboy. He's still the Coens' most devious creation; his laugh is unforgettable. The film, too.
"Miller's Crossing" is another classic from Joel and Ethan, this one mixing in classics "The Godfather" with "Yojimbo" and a dozen other double-cross films involving Bogart-era mobsters, dames, bookies and hoods in the woods. Oh, and some sickly dark comedy. Gabriel Byrne has never been better or cooler as Tom, a mafia lieutenant who breaks with his boss (Albert Finney) to join the other side (led by John Polito) while juggling a tramp girlfriend (Marcia Gay Harden) and her gay sleazebag bookie brother (John Turturro). Smart, brilliant, and a knowing tribute/smack down to all crime films, every shot is a work of art and every character fascinating. There's whip smart and funny dialogue, too. Midway through the film the Coens give us a scene that they have yet to top: Byrne, pistol in hand, stalking a screaming, screeching Turturro into a forest. Hell, the whole film may be their best.
Both films: A+
The Changeling (2008)
An opening title card of "Changeling" proudly proclaims "A true story." I didn't believe a second of it. The story: Single-working mom Christine Collins (Angelina Jolie) comes home late from work one day in 1928 and cannot find her young son, Walter. He's gone. She's distraught. Months later the police find a boy, but it ain't Walter. He's shorter, circumcised, has different teeth and has no memory of his teachers or friends. Christine flips. Big Brother Cop says, "Shut up! He's yours." Christine refuses and is tossed into a medieval insane asylum. Then a child serial killer is discovered. Whew. "Changeling" is a mess. No real people appear on screen. We're given a long line of simpleton characters that spew trite dialogue more suited to a crap 1930s radio drama. Or a day-time soap opera. Jolie's acting -- "I want my son back!" -- is unintentionally funny. Sloppy editing, a dozen drawn-out climaxes and an utter lack of any purpose skunk the film. The stunner: Clint Eastwood, normally brilliant, directed. WTF, Clint!?! D+
Lakeview Terrace (2008)
Directed by Neil LaBute, "Lakeview Terrace" gives a twist to the Neighbor From Hell Thriller plot: The couple is interracial (Patrick Wilson and Kerry Washington) and the brooding psychopath next door is a racist black (Samuel L. Jackson) ... who happens to be an L.A. cop. The film is at its best in showing verbal tit-for-tats, especially between Wilson and Jackson, and then the couple themselves as cracks form in the marriage. The film stumbles as Jackson's hell-bent cop slogs through several on-the-job cliches (the crying thug is laughably bad), and all-out stumbles as a massive forest fire destroys the neighborhood during the gun-popping climax. Not remotely subtle. C+
Milk (2008)
Sean Penn is life-changing in "Milk," the Oscar-winning biopic of gay civil rights leader Harvey Milk of San Francisco, slain on November 27, 1978 (the day my brother was born). Penn's entire body language, movement, even his smile and very eyes, disappear into the role of Milk, a NYC transplant who comes West in 1972 to open a small business.
Fed up with police abuse and constant bigotry from the political right, he soon becomes a community leader and then seeks city office. He gets the nod after multiple failed attempts and soon becomes the face of homosexuality in America. Is it any surprise he was murdered?
The cast of this mostly flashback-style biopic is amazing, from Emile Hirsch ("Into the Wild") as a young gangly hustler to Josh Brolin ("No Country for Old Men") as the angry conservative and fellow city supervisor who kills Milk and S.F. Mayor George Moscone (Victor Garber).
Dustin Lance Black's screenplay is a detailed wonder that balances dozens of characters and a good deal of history. But it's not a perfect beast. He and director Gus Van Sant ("Good Will Hunting") add in a double phone call between Milk and a suicidal gay teen - in a wheelchair! - that plays as way too sentimental and coy. Of course Milk inspired gay youths across the country to feel good about themselves, we don't need neon pointers.
Worse, the duo paints hell-bent White as a closeted gay man finally uncorked and brimming with rage. It's a weak, dumb and seriously cliched liberal argument. Here's the deal: self-righteous Bible-thumpers kill or harass gays for one reason, because they can. It makes them feel better about themselves and their God. There's nothing deeper or more secret than that cold evil fact. Heck, Brolin doesn't seem to cop to this card either. His slowly unraveling performance is brilliant.
That said, this is an uplifting film that uses real-life archival footage to great effect. (That really is Diane Feinstein announcing Milk and Moscone's deaths, and that really is Anita Bryant as one of God's bigots, err, believers.) But this is Penn's film, more so than "Mystic River." His Milk is geeky, shy, painfully trusting, jumpy in his own skin and prone to failed romances with immature or unstable men. He's much like any man, but he chases men. Not women. Who knew Penn had that in him.
Milk is not played as a hero or a saint, but a man who saw no one to lead his people and so became that leader. Penn deserves every accolade out there. A-
Fed up with police abuse and constant bigotry from the political right, he soon becomes a community leader and then seeks city office. He gets the nod after multiple failed attempts and soon becomes the face of homosexuality in America. Is it any surprise he was murdered?
The cast of this mostly flashback-style biopic is amazing, from Emile Hirsch ("Into the Wild") as a young gangly hustler to Josh Brolin ("No Country for Old Men") as the angry conservative and fellow city supervisor who kills Milk and S.F. Mayor George Moscone (Victor Garber).
Dustin Lance Black's screenplay is a detailed wonder that balances dozens of characters and a good deal of history. But it's not a perfect beast. He and director Gus Van Sant ("Good Will Hunting") add in a double phone call between Milk and a suicidal gay teen - in a wheelchair! - that plays as way too sentimental and coy. Of course Milk inspired gay youths across the country to feel good about themselves, we don't need neon pointers.
Worse, the duo paints hell-bent White as a closeted gay man finally uncorked and brimming with rage. It's a weak, dumb and seriously cliched liberal argument. Here's the deal: self-righteous Bible-thumpers kill or harass gays for one reason, because they can. It makes them feel better about themselves and their God. There's nothing deeper or more secret than that cold evil fact. Heck, Brolin doesn't seem to cop to this card either. His slowly unraveling performance is brilliant.
That said, this is an uplifting film that uses real-life archival footage to great effect. (That really is Diane Feinstein announcing Milk and Moscone's deaths, and that really is Anita Bryant as one of God's bigots, err, believers.) But this is Penn's film, more so than "Mystic River." His Milk is geeky, shy, painfully trusting, jumpy in his own skin and prone to failed romances with immature or unstable men. He's much like any man, but he chases men. Not women. Who knew Penn had that in him.
Milk is not played as a hero or a saint, but a man who saw no one to lead his people and so became that leader. Penn deserves every accolade out there. A-
The Wrestler (2008)
"The Wrestler" is another gem from director Darren Aronofsky ("Requiem for a Dream"). Mickey Rourke, long absent from any decent film, plays Randy "The Ram" Robinson -- not his real name -- an ex-professional wrestler whose life stopped in 1990. He lives in a crap trailer that's as beat-up and meshed together as his own body, and he owns nothing made past the Reagan era. But he's not dead. Yet. This film nails lower class life in central New Jersey, the loneliness of boardwalks, and the life of middle-aged wrestlers living in Zombieland. (I once wrote a story on similar wrestlers. Writer Robert Siegel nails every reeking sweat-flop detail. It's like a documentary of that one weird night.) This is deep, poetic film about a simple man who can take the horrific physical violence of the ring, but not the emotional punches of life. One of 2008's Top 5. Rourke is amazing. A
Monday, August 3, 2009
Coraline (2009)
The dark and beautifully weird stop-motion animation "Coraline" is surely due some year-end Oscar love. It's neck and neck with "Up," maybe surpassing it, as my favorite animated film of the year. How much do I love this film? It struck me the same way David Lynch's surreal trips down warped minds get to me, and that is huge.
Based on a story by Neil Gaiman and directed by Henry Selick ("The Nightmare Before Christmas" - an absolute favorite), it follows lonely Coraline (voiced by Dakota Fanning) as she moves into an apartment of a strangely pink pink house with her busy garden magazine writer parents (voiced by Teri Hatcher and John Hodgman). She soon meets a geeky boy next door, an acrobat and two former actresses as her neighbors, but nonetheless feels neglected. Stranger still is the tiny door in her parents' living room that leads to a new world, perfect in every detail, form and action except that everyone has buttons for eyes. (Take that as no soul. Or just buttons for eyes.)
I won't spoil anything more because this is a brilliant film not so much for young children, but the child buried in all adults. It may actually be too scary for young children. The stop-motion animation and visual effects improve upon anything I've seen before, including the classic "Nightmare." The film isn't as much a take off of "Alice in Wonderland" as it is a prelude to "Pan's Labyrinth," where the magical world a child escapes to is far, far worse than the life they want to leave behind. (I say prelude as the book "Coraline" came out in 2002, and "Pan's" original-screenplay film was released in 2006.)
Hatcher is a marvel as the Mother, Other Mother (with the button eyes) and so much more, and who knew Hodgman (he of those IBM/Mac commercials) had such a stellar singing voice? Selick is an ace director, a creator of worlds more frightening, magical and deep than Burton has realized in a long, long time. Or Lynch. This will be on my year end best list. Gaiman is a god of writing. A
Based on a story by Neil Gaiman and directed by Henry Selick ("The Nightmare Before Christmas" - an absolute favorite), it follows lonely Coraline (voiced by Dakota Fanning) as she moves into an apartment of a strangely pink pink house with her busy garden magazine writer parents (voiced by Teri Hatcher and John Hodgman). She soon meets a geeky boy next door, an acrobat and two former actresses as her neighbors, but nonetheless feels neglected. Stranger still is the tiny door in her parents' living room that leads to a new world, perfect in every detail, form and action except that everyone has buttons for eyes. (Take that as no soul. Or just buttons for eyes.)
I won't spoil anything more because this is a brilliant film not so much for young children, but the child buried in all adults. It may actually be too scary for young children. The stop-motion animation and visual effects improve upon anything I've seen before, including the classic "Nightmare." The film isn't as much a take off of "Alice in Wonderland" as it is a prelude to "Pan's Labyrinth," where the magical world a child escapes to is far, far worse than the life they want to leave behind. (I say prelude as the book "Coraline" came out in 2002, and "Pan's" original-screenplay film was released in 2006.)
Hatcher is a marvel as the Mother, Other Mother (with the button eyes) and so much more, and who knew Hodgman (he of those IBM/Mac commercials) had such a stellar singing voice? Selick is an ace director, a creator of worlds more frightening, magical and deep than Burton has realized in a long, long time. Or Lynch. This will be on my year end best list. Gaiman is a god of writing. A
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
