Showing posts with label satire. Show all posts
Showing posts with label satire. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Wet Hot American Summer (2001)

A good friend has egged me on for years to watchWet Hot American Summer,” a 2001 send-up of 1980s summer camp films that is splendidly offensive and dead-on, not just of every “Porky’s” type film ever made, but camping in general, and being a dumb ass teen. The movie sports early-career Bradley Cooper, Amy Poehler, and Paul Rudd, along with Janeane Garafalo, David Hyde Pierce, and Molly Shannon. Like the very best satires, “Wet” smashes the fourth wall and plays with the audience directly. My favorite scene is a throw away: The camp baseball team forfeits the big final game because it will only end in cliché, the underdogs beating the snotty rich kids down a ways. I laughed my ass off. A-

Monday, June 29, 2015

Spy and Pitch Perfect 2 (both 2015)

Next time a guy says women aren’t funny, punch the motherless bastard in the face. 

In “Spy,” Melissa McCarthy re-teams with her “Bridesmaids” and “The Heat” director/writer Paul Fieg for a spoof/nod to 007 antics as McCarthy plays a CIA desk jockey who takes the field – and a few lives – tracking down a stolen nuke. The plot here, as in “Heat,” is distractingly laid back. That’s OK. I came to see McCarthy. Here’s the joke: She starts off her mission puking on the bad guy she just killed, but before long she’s dropping the “F” bomb and cracking skulls open. Fat loner cat jokes? She throws then back with fire as fellow spy Jason Statham torches his tough guy persona as a jackass who fumbles every single move he makes. She needs no man to save her. 

In “Pitch Perfect 2,” Anna Kendrick and Rebel Wilson return as college a cappella singers who have to fight their way back to the spotlight after a disastrously hairy performance. Co-star Elizabeth Banks takes on director duties, and her comedy might suffer from too many side plots, but it’s knowing and funny as it openly mocks sequel “come backs” and career students.


Spy: A- Pitch: B

Friday, January 30, 2015

Tusk (2014)

“Tusk” cannot be unseen or flushed away. It deserves both. Pitched I suppose as a spoof on the “Human Centipede” flicks, once-talent Kevin Smith directs with the urgency of a fatty waving off farts as he sits alone on his watching bad TV. Justin Long plays a shock jock who gets kidnapped by a Canadian madman (Michael Parks) with a fetish for walruses. Yes, walruses. So, poor Long becomes a walrus. Yeah, Tusks in his mouth. Flippers. Funny mustache. Bodily morphed like the teens in “Centipede.” But it’s the audience eating shit here. Smith spoons it. Satirizing an OTT satire is a bad idea. Smith is all bad ideas. Halfway in, he drops in Johnny Depp as a redneck Canadian Inspector Clouseau hunting Parks’ psycho in a side plot that stops the film dead. Jokes about Canadian accents (!!) abound. (Are those still funny?) The tonal shift is so bewildering and Depp’s “performance” so wink-wink self-aware, it’s as if Smith is testing his most loyal fans’ patience: “Can you believe this shit!?!” Long gives his all. As a BFF, watch the lights go out in Haley Joel Osment’s eyes. Career panic. I can’t say Depp even cares. D-

Thursday, January 29, 2015

Dear White People (2014)

“Dear White People” is the political college racial satire that was supposed to send the university where I work into gasps of “Oh, no, they didn’t!” hysterics. But most of the audience, every race and age you can dream of, chuckled nicely, sort of, while others dozed off or texted. If the best satires stay with you forever, think “Strangelove,” this is “PCU” on an Internet-sourced budget. Anyone recall “PCU”? Flick is set at some sunny liberal arts school that once served rich white kids, but still wobbles at that whole desegregation thing. Tyler James Williams -– he’s on “Walking Dead”!! -– is the closeted gay nerd trying to fit in amongst Black Power radio DJ Tessa Thompson and spoiled racist GOPer Kyle Gallner. One example why this is such a yawn: The climax has a party where white kids dress in black face to booze and laugh off slavery. The whole scene fizzles. The end credits show real images of college kids –- good Southern GOP children all, Hello, MSU -– doing the same, and I got out of my seat in rage. See? B-

Wednesday, December 3, 2014

The Hunger Games: Mockingjay, Part 1 and Gone Girl (both 2014)

Blockbuster films “The Hunger Games: Mockingjay, Part 1” and “Gone Girl” share little in common other than book source female authors, respectively, Suzanne Collins and Gillian Flynn. 

But, damn, these movies do show the difference of a bloated, ill-advised screen adaptation (that “Part 1” is a millstone) and another adaptation that takes the meat and bones of its source, cut the fat, and creates a raging animal that leaves one spooked, rattled, and –- most importantly –- wanting more. 

(Collins helped adapt her story, with others, Flynn takes sole credit.) 

If you’re smart enough to be on the Web, you know the basics of each film. “Mockingjay” comes from the third and final book in a wildly popular series about teen Katniss (Jennifer Lawrence) as she struggles against a fascist future America where lives of the poor are held as sport to the rich. War is brewing. 

“Girl” follows a He Said, She Said format as a once good marriage has turned toxic and maybe deadly. The wife has gone missing, and the husband has “killer” inscribed on his scumbag forehead. 

The novel “Mockingjay” clocks in under 400 pages, and as with all of Collins’ books, reads fast. No stops or fluff. Fewer pages means less work to cut from page to screen. But success breeds greed. 

After the great sequel “CatchingFire” –- with its devastating emotional punches, great action and characters, and a cliffhanger ending –- became a smash hit even over its predecessor, watching this new film is a surprisingly dull overlong drudge. 

It’s half a real movie with dozens of outtakes crammed in. It makes the mistake of sidelining Katniss for nearly two hours of weeping and thumb-twiddling as she lets the boys take over. Ouch. 

The “Games” books and films have excelled IMHO over the awful, inept, feminism-hating “Twilight” series because Katniss has no time for romance or weeping, because she is too busy being the protector of her family. Very little of her is here. The studio now just sees dollars, and a dark, thrilling dystopian tale of and for youth is stretched too thin. 

We get scenes repeated -– Katniss stands over war rubble and charred bodies no less than five time, and two of those in the same exact location, where she ransacks, twice now, her ruined home for supplies. 

As the focus was nearly entirely on or about Katniss in previous films, we know grow our side-character roster, and God bless Philip Seymour Hoffman -– I miss him dearly –- most of his scenes are unneeded, with no need to watch him talking to Katniss’ PR handler (Elizabeth Perkins). 

Near the end, Katniss stands in a control room watching from afar as men go into battle, and she watches and watches, and spends what might be 10 minutes repeating, “Are you there?,” to the evil dictator who also is watching the rescue from afar, President Snow (Donald Sutherland). Much more happens and I won’t spoil a drop for those unfamiliar with the book, but just sitting there knowing we have another two hours of film to watch in what should have been a tight, relentless, three-hour film exhausts me. 

“Part 1” wants to sell itself as drums of war, but that pounding is all cash registers clinking, a move the wealth-crazed, Ayn-Rand-loving villains of this tale might ironically approve. The heroes? Katniss, and the haunted veteran played by Woody Harrelson? They would mutter, “I don’t have time for this.” 

“Gone Girl” –- even at two and half hours –- knows the best always leave you wanting more, be it book, film, or food. Flynn’s book was a helluva read, bouncing back for 400-plus pages between man and wife as they delve into their disintegrating marriage, he speaking in the present day after the wife goes missing and police and media come calling and ravaging; her from the past, in diary entries, sliding from happiness to despair. 

That’s three quarters of the film, until Flynn and director David Fincher don’t just turn the car around, they crash it wheels up in icy muck, and watch it -– and us -– sink and freeze. Part of the genius in “Girl” is the casting, with American sweetheart Ben Affleck as the husband and relative unknown actress Rosamund Pike (“Jack Reacher”) as the wife. 

Affleck’s Nick Dunne is a former NYC journalist turned bar owner, back in his Missouri sticks childhood home with a dead mom, a senile father, and a twin sister, and many dark secrets. His shirt always untucked, blue jeans under a gut, and a blank face, he is cold and aloof, so much to the point that the police starting wrinkling their eyebrows. Hard. Especially after the diary of the wife, Amy, is uncovered. Its most recent pages purging tales of abuse. 

Amy was raised a New Yorker and the child of parents who mined their daughter’s youth for books, children’s book that always seemed one step ahead of their own girl, one punch above perfect. “Amazing Amy” the book series was called. How can anyone stand to strive to be amazing, to live up to fiction? I will stop there. 

Fincher again has made a cold, daring film that cuts right to the dark pit of the soul, that little black ball rolled up deep inside, found in “The Game” and “Fight Club.” 

Flynn adapted her own book, gutting sections, condensing others, and adding new ribbons of dark blood toward the end. Spoilers? Harsh drama and part sick satire, “Gone” is a nasty trip through marriage and media, and personality, how people –- all of us -- perform in public, for one’s spouse or family, and even to ourselves, striving to meet expectation or get that life –- that perfect life -– we know we saw on TV, or dream about, or read about once. 

Like that book series. It’s toxic. (How harmful was a show like “Leave It to Beaver” to read, struggling American families?) There are great moments of crushing satire and criticism of the media that bounce the film along and ring true in our age where white wealthy women disappearing is national news, but not so for anyone of color, or low income. 

Tyler Perry plays the part of a sleaze lawyer who comes to Nick’s “rescue,” and he brings a dynamic, comedic charge to the film that saves it from going too dark, and he’s in a magical feat, our way into the film. 

This is a film to watch and talk about over booze and food, not read about. See it for no other reason than Affleck -- a successful director and new Batman -- crushing his role as an ugly man impossible to hate. He is a marvel to behold, as is the amazing Pike.

Yes, “Mockingjay” will make tons more money and get more press, but “Gone” is the film that stays the course. Unwavering.

Mockingjay: B- Gone: A-

Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Birdman (2014)

When we first see Michael Keaton as a has-been Hollywood actor at the opening of tar-black fable “Birdman,” he is floating in midair as the intimidating voice of his once big-screen superhero alter ego -– see the title -– talks aloud inside his own head. That’s the start of this wondrously warped story. Yes, Keaton, who played comic book hero Batman, plays an actor who played comic book hero Birdman. Meta comedy is promised and delivered. Plot: Keaton’s Riggan Thomas is determined to reset his relevance by staging a Broadway play. The impossible task consumes Riggan: His lead actor is a prickish actor played by infamously prickish actor Edward Norton, and Riggan’s daughter (Emma Stone) teeters on drug relapse. Stone, of course, plays Spider-Man’s girlfriend. Spider-Man appears as a mocking taunt. Brilliant. Questions pop: Mainly, Will Riggan escape Birdman? Director Alejandro G. Inarritu serves a must-rewatch film about a man more scared of obscurity than death and a damning of the Marvel Movie Universe ruling cinemas and then flames his own film as Marvel-like action plays out. More than the art-house deep-thoughts comedy, this strange film is pure wicked fun to watch unspool. A

Friday, October 3, 2014

The Purge (2013)

“The Purge” is horror with a nasty serving of satire that slashes at the Tea Party elites who think wealth makes them holier than anyone below them, and yet angry at anyone who dares have a bigger house or a nicer car. I dug it. Ethan Hawke plays a self-satisfied hawker of home security devices in year 2022 of a post right-wing-revolution “New” America. Money is God. Guns are the Holy Son. The NRA might be running the show. One day each year, true “patriots” –- the haves -– are allowed (encouraged) to rape and murder at will, with the bottom of the economic chain the true target. But, Hawke’s quirky liberal teen son (Max Burkholder) opens the family fortress to a hunted veteran and soon preppy masked hunters come house crashing. (The sociopathic leader is unfailingly polite and dressed in a blazer with a haircut that screams edgy Young Republican. I knew assholes like him in college.) Writer/director James DeMonaco might not have a great film, but it’s daring, even if the end has too many pointers and Lena Headey’s wife remains flat. (I had hopes the “good” son might turn a shocking path, but did not happen.) B

Sunday, August 17, 2014

Lucy and RoboCop (both 2014)

Remember that “better, stronger, faster” intro from “Six Million Dollar Man,” with the TV astronaut who escapes death with a new bod and brain to rival Superman? 

Recent films “Lucy” and “RoboCop” -– the latter a remake of the classic 1987 gallows-humor action flick –- replay that tune, respectively following a woman (Scarlett Johansson) who becomes an unstoppable fighter/thinker after she ingests a fantastical drug, and an honest cop (Joel Kinnaman) who’s reborn as a cyborg after being blown to bits in Detroit.

Packed with loads of potential, both fall short of better, stronger, or faster.

At least “Lucy” is quick-paced at less than 90-minutes as our heroine goes from unwilling drug mule to omnipotent hero within 24 hours. Luc Besson directs screaming preacher style that if only humans were smarter, we’d kill each other less, in between long glorious shots of ultra-cool people slaughtering each other in fab fab fab slo-mo action. Seriously, Besson wants us to leave thinking peace and love, but after four bloodbath massacres and untold car crashes, who is he kidding? Morgan Freeman plays a scientist who utters, “I just hope we will be worthy of your sacrifice,” and somehow keeps from laughing as SJ goes on a nature-filled time bender that outs Besson as a Terrence Malick/Doctor Who mash-up fan-fiction writer. Johansson is spectacular and long past due her own Marvel film. B-


The new “RoboCop” starts strong with Samuel L. Jackson as a Glenn Beck-type screaming about glorious freedom, before we jump to a near-future terrified Iran patrolled by robots and drones made in the U.S. of A. “Bring it here!,” SLJ’s right-wing nut demands, as any wrong move gets a man or woman or child slaughtered onscreen. Freedom means obeying. I thought this new RoboCop is going international, after the NSA, CIA, and Cheney’s shoot first manta, and – stop! -- we’re back in Detroit, stuck with the same 1987 plot bucket of evil corporation, human overcoming robotics, kingpin villains, and corrupt cops, all with a limiting PG-13 rating. Fox News is an easy target, and the Detroit in this dystopian America fails to match the current grim reality. Talk about tone deaf. Imagine a war satire so sharp it makes Bush and Obama wince. That film played in my head as I tried to stay awake here. C-

Monday, June 30, 2014

Ravenous (1999)

“Ravenous” is as wildly offbeat onscreen as its behind-scenes history (rewrites, cast revolts, multiple directors) indicates. It veers shocker, horror, satire, comedy, drama, fantasty, and all-out Midnight Movie nuts. It is split open dripping guts on the floor. Oh so apt for a blood-soaked cannibal tale set in the 1870s California that marries Cormac McCarthy brooding to Stephen King camp, and featuring Guy Pearce as a haunted soldier and Robert Carlyle as … let’s call him mysterious. Pearce is a faux hero who took a dive in battle and is relegated to a western outpost with other rejects –- bookworms, stoners, drunks, and fundamentalists -– who are visited by man (Carlyle) who spins a tale of escaping a terrifying camp of cannibals. Our soldiers unwisely take action. I’ll stop there. Antonia Bird –- third hired director –- serves up a movie that’s all body parts, none a head, with Carlyle diving in madly with glee, and Pearce scrambling to keep up. The fight scenes are underdone, the comedy crashes into indigenous lore, but not a moment is boring. When a dead character reappears, you could fit a thigh in my mouth. B

Monday, June 9, 2014

Edge of Tomorrow (2014)

Live. Die. Repeat. That’s the smart mantra behind “Edge of Tomorrow,” the unfortunately titled but damn entertaining Tom Cruise sci-fi actioner that marries “Groundhog Day” to “Starship Troopers.” The trailers promises action and explosions. Those we get. But it’s also a surprisingly funny romp about a pompous PR-hack-turned-soldier (Cruise) who resurrects every time he is killed in battle against alien creatures that mesh robotics and Red Lobster dinner fare. How so? Not important. What is of interest: Dozens of those deaths are comedy gold such as when Cruise -– let’s face it, the guy has ego to spare –- eats some tires getting run over while escaping push-up duty. But there’s a better reason to cheer: Emily Blunt plays the kick-ass hero who pummels Cruise’s worm into a deadly warrior. Blunt -– best known for comedy -– is damn good. Never weak per some script mandate. Cruise again gives his all, his eyes going from vacant to deadly smart. Director Doug Liman (“Bourne Identity”) wraps up with a popcorn friendly finale, but the ride is worth repeat views. Female hero. Pure send-up of macho action tropes. Bill Paxton satirizing “Aliens” bravado. Far better than its given title. B+

Friday, February 14, 2014

The Lego Movie (2014)

Nearly a week after seeing “The Lego Movie” with my niece and nephew I’m still on a buzzy high of nostalgia for the hundreds of hours I spent playing with the famed building blocks as a child -- especially during those long Philly snow days –- and the endless clever wit and deft satire that filmmakers Phil Lord and Christopher Miller (both of “Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs”) bring to this 90-minute blast. 

Face it, this movie could have been a shallow toy ad hawking nonsense, I’m looking at you, “Smurfs.” In a playful trick, though, our story instead spoofs mass-commercialization, all those “The Matrix” knock-offs with the savior complex, “Nineteen Eighty Four,” and the legendary (and outright silly) debate between those who see Legos as high-art engineering tools and young children who just want to mess about and play and not worry about rules or constriction. 

(I will not touch the Fox News controversy over the plot and story. Some folks truly need to not make everything on earth a political target, a bit of scotch in a glass, buy a puppy, smoke some pot, the choices are wide and plenty.) 

Our hero is blank-slate construction worker Emmet (Chris Pratt) who gets swept up in a massive adventure as “The One,” the Neo-like hero who can save Lego humanity from its destruction and the walls that separate metropolises from western towns. 

The twist: Emmet really is just a guy, and a dork at that, perplexing and outright pissing off all the real “heroes” around him, Batman -– in a legendary vocal turn by Will Arnett, a squabbling Superman and Green Lantern (Channing Tatum and Jonah Hill, respectively), and a good lot of heroes from “Harry Potter,” “Lord of the Rings,” and -- most impressive “Star Wars,” all toys that have their own Lego worlds. 

This bit could fall into toy ad here, but it doesn’t: Gandolf and Dumbledore squabble, and Billy Dee Williams (!!) as Lando still is sleazy as ever. (The Millennium Falcon bit alone is worth the price of three admissions.) All these guys could be the hero, but it’s Emmet, following the sage advice of Moses/Morpheus do-gooder prophet Vitruvius (Morgan Freeman) who is finally – finally, we get to see this –- full of shit. 

The beginning is shaky, oddly sudden, and the end -- which smashes open the fourth- and fifth- and sixth-walls may be so daring and “out there,” I’m still wrapping my head around it, but I think I loved it. (I saw it coming, but man curve balls are thrown.) It sure as heck is different than anything I have seen come down the pike.

The visuals are amazing as every frame pops and my 11-year-old nephew reached out countless times to “grab” the screen and the plastic “toys” before him. Visual gags come fast, including entire Lego play sets from my youth, and even the cast knocks their own career, none better than Liam Neeson as a two-faced bad cop with a dangerous Irish accent and a squeaky clean voice on the other side. 

Inside jokes are fast as well: The Lego part numbers get a lot of play, a detail even I had forgotten about. An absolute delight and a real high mark from Warner Bros., especially after the rut of so-so CGI animated fare we have seen from normal kings of the block Pixar and Dreamworks. 

“Lego Movie” is amazing endless fun, and puts children center. It also is one of the rare films that excels at 3-D. See it, guys and gals, now. I plan to again. Without the niece and nephew. Just me and *my* 11-year-old self, the one buried deep inside. Still there. A

Thursday, January 30, 2014

Back to the Future (1985)

I was 11 when “Back to the Future” hit theaters. Not yet in high school. (I got called “McFly!” A lot.) But I loved the story and acting, and knew this movie was whip smart. Watching it again with high school long past and looking at 1985 as movie hero Marty McFly looks at 1955, I’m blown away. “Future” is epic. You know the plot: Michael J. Fox -– then a TV star -– is Marty, a skate-boarding 1980s teen who gets zapped back 30 years in a time machine sports car (how genius!) built by an eccentric nut-job scientist (Christopher Lloyd). In 1955, McFly meets the teenagers (Lea Thompson as a hottie and Crispin Glover as an incredible nerd) who will be his parents, and puts his own existence in jeopardy when he crashes their meet-cute. Never mind sci-fi, Robert Zemekis’ film is one of the great comedies, with marvelous turns from the whole cast, especially Tom Wilson as an idiot bully. The script toys with time-travel like a kid in a Lego store and serves up Ronald Reagan jokes so great Ronal Reagan loved them. Fox –so young – defines movie stardom. A childhood favorite improved with age, I love it. A+

Saturday, January 25, 2014

The World’s End (2013)

Planet Earth had it rough in 2013. Along with numerous sci-fi flicks, our home got smashed about in “This is the End” and “The World’s End,” widely different (despite titles) comedies that satirize cinematic apocalypse larks with onscreen man-bonding and plenty of drink and drugs. “World’s End” is the last in a comedy trilogy from director/writer Edgar Wright and stars Simon Pegg and Nick Frost, following “Shaun of the Dead” and “Hot Fuzz.” Here, we take a smart stab at alien-attack flicks and the goofy nostalgia films of old high school chums getting back together to party like the good ol’ days. Wright, Pegg, and Frost call bullshit. Not on aliens. Reunions. When you go back, you fail. Your town has changed, you have changed, and everyone else has, too. Pegg’s boozer doesn’t realize that, though, and watching the guy fret over beer more than humanity is riotous, and a smash at every other boozer film. As they have before, our trio up-end the genre they mock with laser sharp wit. Mainly: Whoever you be, never argue with a drunk Brit. Bonus points: An ex-Bond in a end-game cameo. Love the beard. A-

Monday, December 9, 2013

The Great Dictator (1940) and Dr. Strangelove: Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)

The brilliance of satirical pitch and timing of  “The Great Dictator” – from Charlie Chaplin -- and “Dr. Strangelove: Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb – from Stanley Kubrick, and starring Peter Sellers – cannot be summed up here. These are worthy of books. I saw these war comedies near back-to-back and sat awed, not just at the performances of their lead actors, but the sheer balls that both projects demanded from their creators. “Dictator” takes on Hitler as a buffoon just as the Third Reich roared into terrifying power, while “Strangelove” lampoons a world where nuclear war was considered a sensible tool to save lives. We have nothing in our present day to compare these films and real fears, so there’s no use fishing for analogies. Chaplin’s movie follows a barber rattled by war and a ruthlessly idiotic dictator, while Kubrick’s tale follows a crazed general (Sterling Hayden) who sets off World War III, rattling the U.S. President and entertaining a mad ex-Nazi rocket scientist turned U.S. war scientist. Chaplin and Sellers are so amazing, it boggles the mind. Watching these classics now, it shows the dearth of comedies we have now in cinemas, “Grown-Ups 2”? No. A+

Thursday, November 14, 2013

Monsters, Inc. (2001) and Monsters University (2013)

Animation wise, Pixar was knocking out instant classic year after year in the early 2000s, and “Monsters Inc.” stood tall among many gems. The fantastic story: All those shadowy monsters we saw in our closets and under our beds as children are real, and they live in monster city powered by the screams of bed-frightened youth. The kicker: The monsters fear children. Kids are considered toxic, and woe the hairy freak who gets a toddler’s sock stuck to his back. 

The top “scarer” is James “Sully” Sullivan, a massive blue-and-purple horned guy with the voice of John Goodman and a sidekick/manager/BFF named Mike Wazowski that looks like a giant eyeball with legs and arms, and the voice of Billy Crystal. (Just dig the names: Right out of any Philly neighborhood from my childhood.) All is well for these guys until Mike lets in a babbling toddler who mistakes our scary man for a big kitty. Mayhem ensues, with smart genre spoofing and asides as Ray Harryhausen’s name becomes that of the top spot to eat in town and medusa is, umm, a hot lady at work. For Mike no less. 

Every moment – especially John Ratzenburger as an Abominable Snowman with self-esteem issues – is magic, and the film empowers children to not cry but laugh at the dark. How unfathomably cool is that? Besides “Incredibles,” Pixar has no better action scene than a long fight between our heroes against a lizard-like color shifter snidely voiced by Steve Buscemi among thousands of racing, shifting closet doors, each leading to the “real” world. 

 “Inc.” pops and crackles with glee, with Randy Newman’s jazz score tying the knot on the present. The last scene kills.

The sequel, “Monsters University,” is a prequel as we jump back in time to see James and Mike meet during their freshman year of college. Are they pals? No. Rivals. The gist of the story: Our heroes are at college to major in scaring children to land jobs at the power company Monsters Inc. James is a natural, coasting in on his family name, while Mike has mud in his eye, not the slightest bit scary. 

The duo find themselves on academic skids after destroying a prize possession of the dean (Helen Mirren, turning on the intimidation to full blast as a dragon-like scorpion). Along the way Mike and James join the Omega Kappa (O.K.!) fraternity, a bottom drawer of geeks who live with one of their own mothers. Will Mike and James and the team succeed against all odds? Yes! They will. (Debate: Is cheating OK? Well…) 

Pixar is coasting here, railing on “Revenge of the Nerds” jokes and our own love for the first film. Oh, there are laughs -- I dug the old lady librarian from Mordor – but the jazz pop of “Inc.” is sophomoric.

Inc.:  A University:  B+

Monday, October 7, 2013

The People Under the Stairs (1991)

Wes Craven sure as hell is a master of horror, but he’s also a master of comedy, the latter trait knife sharp in “The People Under the Stairs,” a gore-filled laugh-riot that has a racist, NRA-card-packing psychotic redneck yuppie-wannabe cannibal brother and sister turned married couple (whew!) as the landlords of the L.A. “ghetto,” ruling over low-income African-Americans, stashing money and gold in their lunatic mansion. That’s right, the goofiest rich white stereotype, played over the top by Everett McGill and Wendy Robie -– they also played husband and wife on “Twin Peaks” -– who turn up the crazy to 1,011. Also stashed in that creepy-ass house: A Horde of teenagers, including a girl named Alice (A.J. Langer), all held hostage by the kooky couple, each child disposed of if they dare hear, see, or speak evil. Our hero is a black teen (Brandon Adams) who longs to be a doctor, to save his dying momma, and yet faces a life of crime. Craven dumps clichés faster than body parts, but it’s all for sick-twisted satirical laughs, and darn if they don’t work. B

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice (1969)

Relatively tame now, when “Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice” debuted, it caused a shit storm of controversy that caught flak from the religious right because it dared dived into the then-taboo subjects of free-love,  open marriage, and recreational drug use, and did so as a comedy satire with a take it or leave it judgment card at the end. I daresay few of these critics even saw the film, but panned it eyes closed. In truth, this is an often hilarious blast at both the conservative and liberal divide, with the left actually taking the bigger punch as married Bob and Carol (Robert Culp and Natalie Wood) each take on lovers and suck longtime pals Ted and Alice (Elliott Gould and Dyan Cannon) into their “don’t think, just feel” bed-hopping circle. There’s no LOL scenes of slapstick comedy, just the constantly awkward chortling of watching fools run themselves sideways because they’re afraid to not do so, to not get angry, and to not babble on amok about “honesty” as it were alien. Gould standouts as one very hopeless dope who cannot win, ever. B+

Monday, August 5, 2013

Escape from L.A. (1996)

“Escape from L.A.” has to be joke. Whether it’s on or with the audience, I cannot say for sure. John Carpenter’s sequel to the 1981 cult hit “Escape from New York” marks the riotously silly return of monosyllabic, one-eyed, not very bright, but ass-kicker king Snake Plissken (Kurt Russell, who also co-wrote the film) as he’s again dropped into a future hellhole American city with another do-or-die mission. The special effects range from mildly ugly to unfit for a film school entry and the music score is torture. Carpenter and Russell, though, take grinning digs at Los Angeles life, plastic surgeries as “House of Wax” horror, and –- best of all -- create a political satire more relevant even now. This America is in 2013, with a Jesus freak Virginian as president bent on exiling all “sinners,” with the White House in Lynchburg, home of the wrongly named Liberty University. Ken Cuccinelli could be this prez, if he’s ever given the chance. Don’t fret, righties. Lefties get the pole with a Che Guevara knock-off. Both sides, screwed raw in the back. Nice. The action is knowingly laughable, with Pam Grier as a *man* who can fly. Sort of. B-

Saturday, May 18, 2013

The Great Gatsby (1974 and 2013)

F. Scott Fitzgerald’s classic novel “The Great Gatsby” has spawned roughly six filmed versions. I have seen only two, and it seems a movie version that equals the book is far and forever out of grasp. That is a reference to the book, which if you have not read is a shame. Because I’m skipping the plot re-hash. Read the book.

The 1974 version comes with high pedigree: Francis Ford Coppola has his name on the screenplay, and the top-line stars are Robert Redford and Mia Farrow, both at career highs, as the deeply unknowable titular character and the possibly soulless Daisy, she the woman of his desires/obsessions/ past. Sam Waterston is our hero/narrator, Nick. Redford as the make-you-swoon Gatsby? Cannot go wrong, right? “Well, of course you can.” This is a dud. My wife loves it. I don’t. The book zings with jazz and satire, hidden meanings, the notion that on your third read you catch new-to-you symbolism and connections. Never has an attack on excess come off as empty. Redford -– great actor -– is stiff and wrong as Gatsby, with Farrow over-acting the hysterics. Director Jack Clayton nails the look of the era of loud jazz, loose morals, and great wealth -– Gatsby’s house is the Rosecliff House in Newport, Rhode Island, and my wife and I have been there -– but it trudges along slow and empty. That moment at the end comes not as tragic and sickeningly ironic, but just tepid as … pool water. Dig, though, Scott Wilson as a wronged man. C

Baz Luhrmann’s version is all excess, an ironic eyebrow raiser as the novel attacks the very notion of flash and glitter as suffocating. Recall the absinth kicks of “Moulin Rouge!”? This “Gatsby” is all about that, in 3D. We open with narrator Nick (Tobey Maguire) as a novelist/patient inside a sanitarium, a wrecked shell encouraged to write of the incident that derailed his life: His dealings with mysterious Gatsby (Leonardo DiCaprio), waif cousin Daisy (Carey Mulligan) and her husband (Joel Edgerton). Yes, McGuire is playing Nick as Fitzgerald. How quaint. Luhrmann smartly mines deeper, fuller emotions, and DiCaprio nails the role of a delusional man who drops the term “old sport!,” but has no idea what it means, and does not know his life’s goal is a dead end. In a flip from the ’74 version, it is Maguire who is miscast, giving a “Spider-Man”-era wide-eyed, gawky performance that looks ridiculous on a man his age. The hip-hop fueled parties staged by Luhrmann drown satire, while the visual barrage of Nick’s written words floating in air reminded me of the quiet of reading a book. There is no quiet here. Only noise. C+

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Corvette Summer (1978)

Luke Skywalker’s Corvette gets stolen!?! Wait ’til his dad finds out! Cheesy joke? Yeah. But much of the car-and-a-girl adventure flick “Corvette Summer” is cheesy and often ridiculous, most of the latter unintentional. Hamill -– 27 and post disfiguring crash -– improbably plays an auto-shop geek teen who has never sipped booze or kissed a girl. (That Hamill constantly looks rocked is remarkably not remarked upon.) The story: Hamill’s Kenny’s shop car beauty –- bright red, right-seat drive, killer flares -– gets stolen and ferreted to Las Vegas, and our boy hitchhikes his way to get the car and rip the bad guys. Along the way he meets a naïve girl (Annie Potts) yearning to go pro ho, gets mugged, goes homeless, bounces jobs, gets laid, and -– yes! –- finds his car. In perfect Skywalker fashion, Hamill whimpers, moans, and hyperventilates through every act. I wished Ben Kenobi to swoop in, scream “Shut the fuck up!,” and cut Kenny down. Didn’t happen. “Corvette” must be a prank on the hot rod genre: Guys, cars are just shiny metal, chase after the girl! This cannot be serious. Hamill himself is the best gag, intentional or not. B