Showing posts with label nostalgic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nostalgic. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Grudge Match (2013)

Who would win in a fight, Rocky or Raging Bull? Twenty-five years ago that would have been a semi-serious whisky-laced conversation among movie fans who like their heroes damaged but triumphant. Oh, times have changed. A joke gabfest has turned actual movie with “Grudge Match,” featuring Sylvester Stallone and Robert De Niro having signed on for what I can only guess are gold bricks. I knew “Match” could be bad, a desperate fan fiction nostalgia trip to make us Gen X’ers recall how great these actors were on screen, and how huge the dramas of Rocky Balboa (dark, with redemption) and Jake LaMotta (far darker, none) were, once. But I wasn’t prepared for how endlessly mediocre every single boring moment would be, right up to the final sentimental boxing match that lasts six years as two 70-year-old actors mock-beat each other, and I became physically angry watching it all turn shit brown. I hated every bullshit wink-nod-wink inside joke: Stallone’s working class stiff visiting a meat freezer, De Niro’s smirking playboy and his comedy bar entertainment. A bad film that dares shits on two classics. Fuck this. F

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Man of Steel (2013) and Superman: The Movie (1978)

A trippy back-to-back movie marathon for a long-time superhero geek: The new, troubled, cold dark blue “Man of Steel,” followed by the pop-art all-is-good bright “Superman: The Movie” from 1978. (The latter the first film I ever saw in a theater.) 

These films seen together should make some pop culture thesis about how far down the path of darkness America has gone, or realized it traveled long ago but could never quite admit. After all, damn it, Superman is America. (If you need back story, you are lost.)

Both films are origin stories of Superman, the only hero whose true identity is his super hero self, and his alter ego costume the normal guy next door, Clark Kent. He always is Superman. The older version is straight chronological order, the second splits about a quarter way through, rocketing, so to speak, from baby landing to adult Clark at work.

Richard Donner’s 1978 film is soaked in American nostalgia, even for a bygone era with Norman Rockwell vistas of farmland and cityscapes right out of comic books and the imaginations of children. Christopher Reeve is Superman as an adult, a Boy Scout with no doubt of his inner goodness and he dives in against bad guy Lex Luther (Gene Hackman) with no second of hesitation. 

This is the film for children of all ages. I was 4 when I saw it and was, for lack of a better term, in love. I wore a Superman shirt until it fell apart. Odd now, because I see the flaws now over the nostalgia. When the hell ever was the bit with the black pimp, “That is one bay-ad outfit!’, funny? It smacks of racism, to be fully blunt. I didn’t see that from my pre-kindergarten mind. 

I digress, though, for I still love the intent of this movie. More so than the results. The boy flipping through the comic book at the film’s start, post curtain, says it all. Even if I laugh more now at goofball, neutered Luther, who –- with Hackman on pure ham -– is a kitten compared to Zod. Oh, Zod. The anti-Superman from Krypton. Oh, sure he pops up in “Superman,” briefly in the form of Terrence Stamp, but he’s near the whole show in “Steel.” 

And forget that clunky insider-nerd title. This is “Superman Begins.” And from producer Christopher Nolan, no less. Except the studio could not use such an on-the-nose title. Not after Batman, 2005

Donner went Rockwell. Here, director Zack Snyder (“Watchman”) under Nolan goes full Terrence Malick, with an eye that calls out beauty shots such as swaying clothes in the breeze and farm fields, but he is is not afraid to show what lays underneath. It’s Superman by way of “Badlands.” It’s an insane move, really, and on my first move, I had no idea what to think. Nor my second. Months later, I’m still crazy lost and I’m not afraid to admit unsure. 

But I like that, I like that Superman can be created as a symbol of uncertainty and conflict. Do you beat back the bully, or try and save him? What’s it like it to be a child with x-ray vision and crazy-good hearing? Yes, Snyder and his writers take all those little boy Superman fantasies I had and turn them on their head. Do you really want those powers? Or would you go mad? 

As much as “Superman” of 1978 was a celebration of American greatness with comedy thrown in (Larry Hangman!), “Steel” is dead serious about an America with great powers that must ask just because we can intervene, should we? A scene has Superman ask that of a priest, of intervention and sacrifice on the part of Christ. Henry Cavil of “Immortals” is our hero, and purposefully not fully formed or the good guy that Reeve exemplifies. That will come later. (Let’s forget about that 2006 version, OK?)

The endings of these films are full theses in their own right: In the 1978 version, Luther slams California with nuclear missiles, killing Lois Lane (Margot Kidder, still the best in the role) by earthquake. Reeve as Superman is too late to save her and goes mad and -– can I say it’s unrealistic and not be slapped? -– flies into outer space, and spins backward against the Earth’s rotation, turning back time. 

Yes, turning back time. I cheered when I was 4. Now I think, were there drugs on set?

In “Steel,” Zod (Michael Shannon, seething and peeing on all the carpets) lays waste to Metropolis, Smallville, the Pacific, and untold other places, killing untold thousands of people as he attempts to reset Earth as Krypton. (Um, long story, better not to ask.) Lois doesn’t die, but Superman near goes mad here trying to save the world, committing an act that sent shock waves through Superman fans everywhere. I gasped my first time. 

But what a bold crazy move it is, and I won’t say. (Huge leeway: Did he not do it also in “Superman II,” twice?) As a whole “Steel” may not all work, just as “Superman” does not all fit together, but Snyder and Nolan are staking claim to a new legend. 

I pause just short of calling it ballsy, or brilliant. If I can cringe at anything in “Steel,” it’s that this film is not for any child of 4 or 10, and that is who Superman is for. Not adults. For children. My father took me to see the ’78 version. Big memory. 

Had I a child now, I would have taken him to see “Steel.” That cold dark blue may be too dark, certainly too violent with crashing cities. Is that our modern America, though?


Superman: B+, on nostalgia. Man of Steel: B, dependent on a third viewing.

Monday, August 20, 2012

The Expendables 2 (2012)

“The Expendables 2” is what the first outing from 2010 -– a surprisingly dull film recreating and saluting the 1980s action flicks of my over-stimulated youth that had its head stuck up the butt of the long-gone decade –- should have been. Teeth-rattling fun, mainly.

In that film, Sylvester Stallone, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Bruce Willis -– the Holy Trinity of the Action Film Genre -– stood around and made blowjob jokes. The talky give and take was so awkward, it sounded like an investors meeting at Planet Hollywood, and the scene had zero impact. Here, Stallone, Schwarzenegger, and Willis come together and blast apart an army of faceless villains, machine guns popping off endless amounts of bullets. They are joined by Chuck Norris. They’re all after Jean Claude Van Damme. Now, that’s star power beyond my 16-year-old dreams. (Chuck Norris!!!)

Let’s get it out of the way now: “Expendables 2” is ridiculous, from its opening scene to the last frame. It’s a joke. Everyone on screen has a goofy character name, but who are we fooling? Our heroes, joined by “Expendables 1” hold-overs Jason Statham, Dolph Lundgren, Jet Li, Terry Crews, and Randy Couture are basically playing themselves, or at least, our collective perception of the myriad characters they have played on screen since the time of VCR as a common household item and Ronald Reagan as president. When Big Names mattered over the title on the poster, not just the name of the superhero that the film is about. Hell, these guys were superheroes, flat out.

Schwarzenegger drops his “I’ll be back” lines from “The Terminator,” Stallone is called “the Italian,” even though his Barney Frank bears seemingly no relation to a Philly boxer. Willis gets a “Yippe-ki-yay” in there, for “Die Hard” lore. Lundgren’s real-life background as a chemical engineer gets picked up for a series of laughs, right before a tip to the original “Total Recall.” Hilariously, Chuck Norris tells a Chuck Norris joke, and can barely keep a straight face when he dishes it out. 

It’s silly, bloody camp, a throwback film that winks back at the 1980s/90s, and knows AARP men of that era have no business starring in a modern action film, but doesn’t care. Yet, that is the kick. I saw this because of the cast, thinking back to the day when we saw a movie because it was Stallone or Willis or Schwarzenegger. Those days are gone, mostly. Now, we see the Spider-Man movie, not caring who stars, but only because it is Spider-Man. Schwarzenegger says, “We belong in a museum,” ribbing himself before the haters can write the same dismissive remark in a snide review at IMDB. It’s not as gloriously over-the-top singularly enjoyable as, say, “Flash Gordon,” but awful close, and as fully aware of its heightened life as a instant guilty pleasure, without the guilt. Chuck Norris!!!

The improvements are fast, and in the credits: Stallone starred, wrote, and directed the first film, and looked exhausted the entire time onscreen. Simon West, who directed “Con-Air,” takes over the reins here, and Stallone also had help on the screenplay. And the man looks looser here, focused on the subject at hand: Kicking bad guy ass. He’s having more fun, really.

The plot is easy, and -– to my surprise -– throws in what the first film sorely needed, a female protagonist. Yu Nan, new to my eyes, plays an operative of Willis’ shady CIA spook named Church. The mission: The Expendables take Nan’s Maggie to a downed airplane in Albania to extract a McGuffin disk locked inside a safe. What’s on the disc? Not important. A group of vaguely European creeps want it, and get it, and fight is on. It’s that easy.

Starring as the lead villain, Vilain -– yes, go on and laugh or roll your eyes, Vilain! –- is Van Damme, looking mean and scarred after years of drug abuse and a reported heart attack. As with Lundgren in the first film, Van Damme looks hungry for stardom on screen and he dives so fully in to his maniacal, over-the-top (I really cannot say that enough) bad guy, one can’t help but cheer on the actor, I swear.

As with “The Avengers” and its thin plot, the set-up of “Expendables 2” is a means to get to the final battle. Unlike “Expendables 1, this delivers. No spoiler alert needed, if you have not seen this film yet, these words will make you jump: Stallone fights Van Damme, hand-to-hand combat. It is freaking awesome. Yes, Stallone versus Schwarzenegger might be better, but this is just too good not to witness. Rocky/Rambo versus the Muscles from Brussels is what define high-octane summer films, even purposefully goofy violent.

It’s not rock solid by far. Clearly Jet Li had better things to do, and drops out quickly. As well, Schwarzenegger may not have the big-screen chops anymore, his line readings are awkward, as if he’s pushing too hard to pull off the one-liners of two decades ago. Liam Hemsworth (“The Hunger Games,” and younger brother of  Chris from “Thor”) plays a young Expendable who gives this long spiel of an Army mission gone wrong and an adopted pet dog being slain. It may be the dialogue, it may be Hemsworth’s newness as an actor, but it falls flat. That aside is a rare turn here compared to the overly morose tone that dragged “Expendables 1” down.

A Part 3 is promised, and although the cast may grow even larger and even more starry, I’m happy with this outing. This is a self-aware and knowing go-for-broke blast of fun, a joke that works, by the muscle-bound actors who, for better and worse, defined a decade-plus of action genre filmmaking. This is all perfectly the right amount of too much, and there’s a difference between nostalgic road trip and a tired cash grab. P.S., Chuck Norris!!! B+