FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION (Christopher Guest, 2006)
Oscar fever spreads among the cast of HOME FOR PURIM, the film within a film in director Christopher Guest's FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION. Internet rumors suggest that Marilyn Hack (Catherine O'Hara) may be delivering a performance worthy of an Academy Award nomination. Like a runaway freight train, Oscar buzz builds around a little film that no one wanted to be involved with in the first place.
Victor Allan Miller (Harry Shearer) believes that his days of being best known for wearing a wiener costume in a TV ad may finally be behind him. Callie Webb (Parker Posey) dreams of becoming Hollywood's new ingenue, which would rescue her reputation after her failed one woman show. Only Callie's boyfriend, fellow actor Brian Chubb (Christopher Moynihan), is left out of the awards talk.
On a fundamental level FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION misunderstands how Oscar season works. With year-round Academy Awards discussion on websites and daily entertainment programs and in magazines, it's possible that the audience knows more about the meat grinder of nominations and awards than the film demonstrates. How Guest and co-writer Eugene Levy could get it this wrong is perplexing.
The Oscar chatter begins while HOME FOR PURIM is in production and alters the course of the film. The actors change how they work, and the studio executives question elements they now consider to be too ethnic. It's fair to assume that movies designed as awards bait undergo such internal tinkering to maximize their gold statuette haul, but significant talk of Academy Awards and actively run campaigns don't take place before a film has completed shooting.
Factual errors aside, FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION is a funny movie, albeit a minor one alongside Guest's other comedies. The biggest laughs come courtesy of Fred Willard. The scene stealer bulldozes his way through his screen time as Chuck Porter, the co-host of an ACCESS HOLLYOOD clone. With his bleached fauxhawk and disregard for what his co-host or interviewees have to say, Willard's Porter is hilariously smarmy and insincere like his real-life counterparts. The force of Willard's performance sort of blows Jane Lynch off the screen, but she does a funny riff on the statuesque women who also host these shows.
O'Hara, another regular in Guest's mock docs, is quite good as the actress who lets the Oscar rumors overinflate her expectations after a career's worth of lousy and forgettable roles. She milks all she can from Marilyn's ridiculous botox and silicon makeover, although the joke seems a little broad for Guest's usually understated approach.
Some critics have accused Guest's previous films, such as BEST IN SHOW and A MIGHTY WIND, of having contempt for the characters, but it's felt more strongly in FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION. There's a detectable bitterness toward the people in the industry, yet the targets, minor veteran performers and starry-eyed up-and-comers, don't seem deserving of the director's anger. A better film would have let the air out of the big stars and directors in positions to nurture projects made primarily to boost their egos.
While FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION is funnier than a large percentage of Hollywood comedies, there are signs that Guest's formula is losing its potency; however, the writer/director can take heart that he won't need to worry about sullying himself in this winter's awards scrum.
Grade: B-
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Deja Vu
DEJA VU (Tony Scott, 2006)
Director Tony Scott has never been one to play it safe, sometimes to his own detriment, but his risk-taking opening to DEJA VU seems pretty bold even for him.
Set in a post-Hurricane Katrina New Orleans, the film begins with the terrorist bombing of the Canal St. ferry transporting families and Naval officers to a Fat Tuesday celebration. Before the bomb goes off Scott lingers on shots of men in uniform happy to be on release and bored children waiting to get to their destination. Amid the chaos of the explosion, the director shows burning sailors leaping from the boat. None of this is new, but considering the setting and who is involved, the matter-of-fact depiction of members of a branch of the armed services being killed is kind of shocking in a mainstream action movie.
ATF agent Doug Carlin (Denzel Washington) is assigned to the case. During his investigation he's tipped off to the murder of Claire Kuchever (Paula Patton). Her body washed ashore around the time of the explosion. It is assumed she was one of the more than five hundred passengers on the ferry, but the timing doesn't work out. Someone wants investigators to believe she was onboard, meaning that if he can find Claire's murderer, Doug can find whoever is responsible for blowing up the ferry. Stranger yet, Claire tried to contact Doug before her death.
At first glance DEJA VU appears to be a conventional Denzel Washington action movie, but there are some major surprises in store for viewers thinking they walked into a standard police procedural. Agent Andrew Pryzwarra (Val Kilmer) asks Doug to join his new, top secret unit working on the case. This team possesses tools that take the film into the realm of science fiction, a direction not hinted at in the promotions for the film. It's essentially impossible to review DEJA VU without spoiling this central element, a twist I thoroughly enjoyed, so those who don't want it ruined should continue reading at their own peril.
Pryzwarra's team of braniacs has harnessed the ability to see whatever happened four days ago. It's far too complicated to explain, but suffice it to say that as long as they know where to look, they can see whatever was happening as it occurred in the past. It's not perfect. There are no second chances or rewind options, and the areas covered are limited by satellite placement.
The fantasy technology deepens DEJA VU'S resonance and makes the New Orleans setting all the more appropriate and poignant. Would being able to see into the past and send messages to people there allow us to avoid catastrophes, or would everything play out the same way because we've already done those things that have brought us to that point? It's the main conundrum in time travel movies, but this fascinating riddle gives DEJA VU an unexpected thoughtfulness. (The Beach Boys' "Don't Worry Baby" also gains some weight from its use in a pivotal scene.)
Scott's manic style is well matched with the technology's constant scanning. The technique reaches its apotheosis in a thrilling scene in which Doug gets in a car chase with a suspect whose actions were four days earlier.
As usual Washington is charismatic and projects an honorable core akin to Jimmy Stewart. It tends to be forgotten that the venerable Stewart also played his share of oddball roles, like in his darker work with Alfred Hitchcock. With DEJA VU and this year's INSIDE MAN, it's fun to watch Washington cut loose a little within his upstanding characters.
An unforeseen mix of action, sci-fi, and even a hint of romance, DEJA VU'S pleasures are in delivering what we don't see coming.
Grade: B
Director Tony Scott has never been one to play it safe, sometimes to his own detriment, but his risk-taking opening to DEJA VU seems pretty bold even for him.
Set in a post-Hurricane Katrina New Orleans, the film begins with the terrorist bombing of the Canal St. ferry transporting families and Naval officers to a Fat Tuesday celebration. Before the bomb goes off Scott lingers on shots of men in uniform happy to be on release and bored children waiting to get to their destination. Amid the chaos of the explosion, the director shows burning sailors leaping from the boat. None of this is new, but considering the setting and who is involved, the matter-of-fact depiction of members of a branch of the armed services being killed is kind of shocking in a mainstream action movie.
ATF agent Doug Carlin (Denzel Washington) is assigned to the case. During his investigation he's tipped off to the murder of Claire Kuchever (Paula Patton). Her body washed ashore around the time of the explosion. It is assumed she was one of the more than five hundred passengers on the ferry, but the timing doesn't work out. Someone wants investigators to believe she was onboard, meaning that if he can find Claire's murderer, Doug can find whoever is responsible for blowing up the ferry. Stranger yet, Claire tried to contact Doug before her death.
At first glance DEJA VU appears to be a conventional Denzel Washington action movie, but there are some major surprises in store for viewers thinking they walked into a standard police procedural. Agent Andrew Pryzwarra (Val Kilmer) asks Doug to join his new, top secret unit working on the case. This team possesses tools that take the film into the realm of science fiction, a direction not hinted at in the promotions for the film. It's essentially impossible to review DEJA VU without spoiling this central element, a twist I thoroughly enjoyed, so those who don't want it ruined should continue reading at their own peril.
Pryzwarra's team of braniacs has harnessed the ability to see whatever happened four days ago. It's far too complicated to explain, but suffice it to say that as long as they know where to look, they can see whatever was happening as it occurred in the past. It's not perfect. There are no second chances or rewind options, and the areas covered are limited by satellite placement.
The fantasy technology deepens DEJA VU'S resonance and makes the New Orleans setting all the more appropriate and poignant. Would being able to see into the past and send messages to people there allow us to avoid catastrophes, or would everything play out the same way because we've already done those things that have brought us to that point? It's the main conundrum in time travel movies, but this fascinating riddle gives DEJA VU an unexpected thoughtfulness. (The Beach Boys' "Don't Worry Baby" also gains some weight from its use in a pivotal scene.)
Scott's manic style is well matched with the technology's constant scanning. The technique reaches its apotheosis in a thrilling scene in which Doug gets in a car chase with a suspect whose actions were four days earlier.
As usual Washington is charismatic and projects an honorable core akin to Jimmy Stewart. It tends to be forgotten that the venerable Stewart also played his share of oddball roles, like in his darker work with Alfred Hitchcock. With DEJA VU and this year's INSIDE MAN, it's fun to watch Washington cut loose a little within his upstanding characters.
An unforeseen mix of action, sci-fi, and even a hint of romance, DEJA VU'S pleasures are in delivering what we don't see coming.
Grade: B
Bobby
BOBBY (Emilio Estevez, 2006)
As writer and director of BOBBY, Emilio Estevez tries his hand at an Altmanesque drama detailing the fictionalized goings-on at the Ambassador Hotel on June 6, 1968, the day of the California Presidential primary. Before the day was done, Robert F. Kennedy would be assassinated.
Sporting a cast that includes practically half of Hollywood, it's the kind of film that might as well introduce each of the actors with the "...and so-and-so" credit, the billing that name actors get when their involvement amounts to glorified cameos. Estevez spoons out the twenty-two recognizable faces with such regularity that it seems like an extended joke about ensemble films.
BOBBY meanders among the hotel's employees and guests in the build-up to the campaign's election night party. Along for the ride are Christian Slater as a racist running the hotel's kitchen; Freddy Rodriguez as a kitchen staff member who isn't allowed to leave work to vote or attend that night's Dodgers game; William H. Macy as the hotel manager, who's married to Sharon's Stone's hairdresser and having an affair with a switchboard operator played by Heather Graham; Lindsay Lohan and Elijah Wood as a couple marrying so he can avoid the front line in Vietnam; and Ashton Kutcher as a hippie who introduces two Kennedy staffers to LSD.
That's just a sampling of the enormous cast. Missing among this is any sense of what any of it has to do with Bobby Kennedy. That's kind of a big oversight. After all, the film is named after him. While it includes excerpts of some RFK speeches, BOBBY provides no insight into the man and his politics, choosing instead to flit among the insipid soap opera storylines. There's no time to develop any of the characters, and the time spent with them is a waste. Helen Hunt delivers a monologue about the importance of shoes to women. Laurence Fishburne talks about cobbler and America. These are just a couple of the howlers in a movie that intends to be A Serious Film.
Estevez's point may be that these are the people Kennedy would have represented and helped if he had not been killed, but with an overpopulated cast and undercooked characterization, BOBBY struggles to attach greater meaning to the insignificant stories he tells.
Grade: D
As writer and director of BOBBY, Emilio Estevez tries his hand at an Altmanesque drama detailing the fictionalized goings-on at the Ambassador Hotel on June 6, 1968, the day of the California Presidential primary. Before the day was done, Robert F. Kennedy would be assassinated.
Sporting a cast that includes practically half of Hollywood, it's the kind of film that might as well introduce each of the actors with the "...and so-and-so" credit, the billing that name actors get when their involvement amounts to glorified cameos. Estevez spoons out the twenty-two recognizable faces with such regularity that it seems like an extended joke about ensemble films.
BOBBY meanders among the hotel's employees and guests in the build-up to the campaign's election night party. Along for the ride are Christian Slater as a racist running the hotel's kitchen; Freddy Rodriguez as a kitchen staff member who isn't allowed to leave work to vote or attend that night's Dodgers game; William H. Macy as the hotel manager, who's married to Sharon's Stone's hairdresser and having an affair with a switchboard operator played by Heather Graham; Lindsay Lohan and Elijah Wood as a couple marrying so he can avoid the front line in Vietnam; and Ashton Kutcher as a hippie who introduces two Kennedy staffers to LSD.
That's just a sampling of the enormous cast. Missing among this is any sense of what any of it has to do with Bobby Kennedy. That's kind of a big oversight. After all, the film is named after him. While it includes excerpts of some RFK speeches, BOBBY provides no insight into the man and his politics, choosing instead to flit among the insipid soap opera storylines. There's no time to develop any of the characters, and the time spent with them is a waste. Helen Hunt delivers a monologue about the importance of shoes to women. Laurence Fishburne talks about cobbler and America. These are just a couple of the howlers in a movie that intends to be A Serious Film.
Estevez's point may be that these are the people Kennedy would have represented and helped if he had not been killed, but with an overpopulated cast and undercooked characterization, BOBBY struggles to attach greater meaning to the insignificant stories he tells.
Grade: D
Deck the Halls
DECK THE HALLS (John Whitesell, 2006)
Christmas is a time for generosity and goodwill...or it's supposed to be. In DECK THE HALLS the season becomes a war of holiday cheer between neighbors.
Optometrist Steve Finch (Matthew Broderick) is the Christmas guy in his quaint Massachusetts town. His rootless childhood has Steve determined to make Christmas special, even if it means overcompensating with a long checklist of annual family traditions. Everyone wears the same hideous sweater for the Christmas card photo. Steve has a special area at a nursery where he grows perfect trees for several Christmases to come. He leads a merry band of carollers in his neighborhood.
Yep, Christmas is Steve's time to shine until car salesman Buddy Hall (Danny DeVito) moves in across the street. Buddy longs for one thing to make him feel special. He finds his calling when his daughters show him a tool similar to Google Earth that allows homes to be seen from space. Buddy's new house is obscured from view, so he makes it his mission to decorate it with Christmas lights and geegaws that can be visible from the heavens.
Buddy's gaudy display of lights, a live Nativity scene, and thumping music rubs Steve the wrong way for a couple reasons. The late night noise and illumination make it nearly impossible to sleep. More critically, Buddy's decorating captures the town's imagination, and he begins to overtake Steve as the Christmas guy. Steve won't stand for it and plots to sabotage Buddy's work.
As with many modern Christmas movies, DECK THE HALLS is a comedy of misplaced priorities. It's built around the notion that our quest to succeed--to have the Norman Rockwell family or get people to take notice of us--often results in losing perspective and getting further away from our goals. Steve is so adamant about creating Christmas traditions that they don't possess any joy for him or his family. Buddy gains media exposure and the admiration of the town's population, but he risks losing his wife and daughters.
Of course, these overachieving suburban dads are supposed to be funny as they engage in a game of one-upmanship and revenge. A few laughs are sprinkled in this equivalent of a lame sitcom holiday episode, but the broad comedy and treacly ending are unlikely to put anyone in the Christmas spirit.
Certainly the holidays can be a stressful time, but as with CHRISTMAS WITH THE KRANKS, DECK THE HALLS presents Christmas as a time of nasty competitiveness. It would be nice if movie execs realized that for most people the day, whether a religious or secular celebration, isn't about outdoing everyone or Christmas card perfection. If they could put a good Christmas movie or two in our theaters' stockings each year, we'd appreciate it.
Grade: D+
Christmas is a time for generosity and goodwill...or it's supposed to be. In DECK THE HALLS the season becomes a war of holiday cheer between neighbors.
Optometrist Steve Finch (Matthew Broderick) is the Christmas guy in his quaint Massachusetts town. His rootless childhood has Steve determined to make Christmas special, even if it means overcompensating with a long checklist of annual family traditions. Everyone wears the same hideous sweater for the Christmas card photo. Steve has a special area at a nursery where he grows perfect trees for several Christmases to come. He leads a merry band of carollers in his neighborhood.
Yep, Christmas is Steve's time to shine until car salesman Buddy Hall (Danny DeVito) moves in across the street. Buddy longs for one thing to make him feel special. He finds his calling when his daughters show him a tool similar to Google Earth that allows homes to be seen from space. Buddy's new house is obscured from view, so he makes it his mission to decorate it with Christmas lights and geegaws that can be visible from the heavens.
Buddy's gaudy display of lights, a live Nativity scene, and thumping music rubs Steve the wrong way for a couple reasons. The late night noise and illumination make it nearly impossible to sleep. More critically, Buddy's decorating captures the town's imagination, and he begins to overtake Steve as the Christmas guy. Steve won't stand for it and plots to sabotage Buddy's work.
As with many modern Christmas movies, DECK THE HALLS is a comedy of misplaced priorities. It's built around the notion that our quest to succeed--to have the Norman Rockwell family or get people to take notice of us--often results in losing perspective and getting further away from our goals. Steve is so adamant about creating Christmas traditions that they don't possess any joy for him or his family. Buddy gains media exposure and the admiration of the town's population, but he risks losing his wife and daughters.
Of course, these overachieving suburban dads are supposed to be funny as they engage in a game of one-upmanship and revenge. A few laughs are sprinkled in this equivalent of a lame sitcom holiday episode, but the broad comedy and treacly ending are unlikely to put anyone in the Christmas spirit.
Certainly the holidays can be a stressful time, but as with CHRISTMAS WITH THE KRANKS, DECK THE HALLS presents Christmas as a time of nasty competitiveness. It would be nice if movie execs realized that for most people the day, whether a religious or secular celebration, isn't about outdoing everyone or Christmas card perfection. If they could put a good Christmas movie or two in our theaters' stockings each year, we'd appreciate it.
Grade: D+
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
So which is it?
You'll probably have to click on the photo to get the contradiction here. This afternoon I received awards screeners for BABEL and AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH. Included was the standard warning: "These screeners have been loaned for your personal review. Please do not copy, loan, rent, sell, give away or upload to the Internet the enclosed screeners or their contents." The inside cover for the global warming documentary says, "Watch it. Share it. Donate it."
I know what's happened here. This DVD is the commercial disc, but still, I thought it was kind of funny.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Stranger Than Fiction
STRANGER THAN FICTION (Marc Forster, 2006)
Each of us is the protagonist in our own story. For IRS auditor Harold Crick (Will Ferrell) in STRANGER THAN FICTION, the problem is that he's the main character of someone else's story.
One day while brushing his teeth Harold hears a British woman's voice narrating his actions. It wouldn't be out of the question for Harold to think that he's having some kind of psychotic break. In fact, that's what everyone else believes. Literature professor Jules Hilbert (Dustin Hoffman) offers his bemused, although not entirely sympathetic, assistance to Harold as he searches for the author of his life and imminent death.
Professor Hilbert assigns Harold the task of determining whether he's in a comedy or a tragedy. Considering his choice of employment and obsessive-compulsive fastidiousness, it could go either way. He tallies the events of his day auditing baker Ana Pascal (Maggie Gyllenhaal), who he is innately drawn to, but Harold finds that his hapless interactions with her confuse matters more.
Eventually Harold identifies Kay Eiffel (Emma Thompson) as the voice he hears in his head. The professor informs him that his outcome is bleak. Kay kills off the main characters in all of her books. With an unknown amount of time left to live, Harold races to find the reclusive writer and plead with her not to off him.
STRANGER THAN FICTION'S premise and the presence of Ferrell indicate that the film is a comedy. It is but in a subtler way than the big concept and star's past work would suggest. Like life, the story isn't inherently funny or tragic but becomes one or the other depending on one's perspective. Such tenuousness requires a delicate balancing act that director Marc Forster, screenwriter Zach Helm, and the cast pull off beautifully.
Yes, ultimately it's about fully embracing life rather than staying locked in our habits and comfort zones, hardly a new moral to the story in the history of cinema, but STRANGER THAN FICTION brings vitality to the shopworn message. The plot unspools in novelistic fashion. Kay's narration presents the opportunity to convey interior thoughts that ordinarily play better on the page than the screen. Director Marc Forster utilizes a basic cool color scheme and geometric design to highlight the ordered but hermetic nature of Harold and Kay's worlds. It's no accident that more color and less rigid lines are found in scenes with the free-spirited Ana. In this way, the film recalls Jacques Tati's PLAYTIME.
STRANGER THAN FICTION is liberating for its characters and for moviegoers tired of films whose conclusions are apparent after the first ten minutes. The film has an inventive framing device that makes the tone hard to pin down at first, but in the end, it's nice to watch a well-told story whose finish can't be predicted at the outset.
Grade: B+
Each of us is the protagonist in our own story. For IRS auditor Harold Crick (Will Ferrell) in STRANGER THAN FICTION, the problem is that he's the main character of someone else's story.
One day while brushing his teeth Harold hears a British woman's voice narrating his actions. It wouldn't be out of the question for Harold to think that he's having some kind of psychotic break. In fact, that's what everyone else believes. Literature professor Jules Hilbert (Dustin Hoffman) offers his bemused, although not entirely sympathetic, assistance to Harold as he searches for the author of his life and imminent death.
Professor Hilbert assigns Harold the task of determining whether he's in a comedy or a tragedy. Considering his choice of employment and obsessive-compulsive fastidiousness, it could go either way. He tallies the events of his day auditing baker Ana Pascal (Maggie Gyllenhaal), who he is innately drawn to, but Harold finds that his hapless interactions with her confuse matters more.
Eventually Harold identifies Kay Eiffel (Emma Thompson) as the voice he hears in his head. The professor informs him that his outcome is bleak. Kay kills off the main characters in all of her books. With an unknown amount of time left to live, Harold races to find the reclusive writer and plead with her not to off him.
STRANGER THAN FICTION'S premise and the presence of Ferrell indicate that the film is a comedy. It is but in a subtler way than the big concept and star's past work would suggest. Like life, the story isn't inherently funny or tragic but becomes one or the other depending on one's perspective. Such tenuousness requires a delicate balancing act that director Marc Forster, screenwriter Zach Helm, and the cast pull off beautifully.
Yes, ultimately it's about fully embracing life rather than staying locked in our habits and comfort zones, hardly a new moral to the story in the history of cinema, but STRANGER THAN FICTION brings vitality to the shopworn message. The plot unspools in novelistic fashion. Kay's narration presents the opportunity to convey interior thoughts that ordinarily play better on the page than the screen. Director Marc Forster utilizes a basic cool color scheme and geometric design to highlight the ordered but hermetic nature of Harold and Kay's worlds. It's no accident that more color and less rigid lines are found in scenes with the free-spirited Ana. In this way, the film recalls Jacques Tati's PLAYTIME.
STRANGER THAN FICTION is liberating for its characters and for moviegoers tired of films whose conclusions are apparent after the first ten minutes. The film has an inventive framing device that makes the tone hard to pin down at first, but in the end, it's nice to watch a well-told story whose finish can't be predicted at the outset.
Grade: B+
Happy Feet
HAPPY FEET (George Miller, 2006)
The emperor penguins in HAPPY FEET sing in MOULIN ROUGE medleys to find their spouses. What's a penguin to do if his singing voice is like nails on a blackboard?
That's exactly the dilemma that Mumble (voice of Elijah Wood) finds himself in. There's no way a female will be drawn to his screechy heart song, but boy can he tap dance. Unfortunately, his inability to sing and penchant for toe-tapping make him an outcast with the other birds. While in the egg, Mumble was accidentally exposed to the frigid air. His father Memphis (Hugh Jackman) takes the blame for Mumble's difference, but his disappointment makes it hard for him to accept his boy unconditionally.
Mumble's talents with his feet rather than his voice draw suspicion from the elders. The fish supply shrinks, something which the council believes is due to Mumble being an offense to their ways. Mumble sets out to learn why their food source is becoming smaller as well as discover himself.
HAPPY FEET'S animation is nothing short of spectacular. The frozen home of the emperor penguins is rendered in stunning photorealistic CGI. The flightless birds and other Antarctic residents are beautifully animated too. A sequence in which Mumble and his new friends plummet over an icy edge and slide down and around the terrain is as thrilling as any live action setpiece you're likely to come across.
Director George Miller works overtime to entertain, although such ends rarely seem effortless. A preponderance of mashed pop songs may trick some into thinking this is a frivolous children's movie, but the messages pile up fast and furious. The visual elegance is not reflected in the screenwriting.
HAPPY FEET is a didactic movie that takes on religious fundamentalism and addresses environmental concerns. There's nothing saying that entertainment for kids can't be substantive, but the film's hard sell against belief in the supernatural and for ecological care are simple-minded and preachy. Perhaps it's reading too much into HAPPY FEET, but is Mumble's difference from the pack simply a way of encouraging kids to be comfortable with who they are or suggestive of a lesson in accepting those with racial or sexual identities outside the majority? These thematic elements are bold choices for a movie about singing and dancing emperor penguins, but they don't mesh very well.
As a technical achievement, HAPPY FEET is a seriously impressive film. It's also seriously weird and will probably freak out younger viewers. (The subwoofer gets a particularly vigorous workout, which led to many crying children when I saw it.) Parents are better off taking the kids to FLUSHED AWAY for some holiday moviegoing. The animation may not be as groundbreaking, but it's wittier and has less insistent messages.
Grade: C
The emperor penguins in HAPPY FEET sing in MOULIN ROUGE medleys to find their spouses. What's a penguin to do if his singing voice is like nails on a blackboard?
That's exactly the dilemma that Mumble (voice of Elijah Wood) finds himself in. There's no way a female will be drawn to his screechy heart song, but boy can he tap dance. Unfortunately, his inability to sing and penchant for toe-tapping make him an outcast with the other birds. While in the egg, Mumble was accidentally exposed to the frigid air. His father Memphis (Hugh Jackman) takes the blame for Mumble's difference, but his disappointment makes it hard for him to accept his boy unconditionally.
Mumble's talents with his feet rather than his voice draw suspicion from the elders. The fish supply shrinks, something which the council believes is due to Mumble being an offense to their ways. Mumble sets out to learn why their food source is becoming smaller as well as discover himself.
HAPPY FEET'S animation is nothing short of spectacular. The frozen home of the emperor penguins is rendered in stunning photorealistic CGI. The flightless birds and other Antarctic residents are beautifully animated too. A sequence in which Mumble and his new friends plummet over an icy edge and slide down and around the terrain is as thrilling as any live action setpiece you're likely to come across.
Director George Miller works overtime to entertain, although such ends rarely seem effortless. A preponderance of mashed pop songs may trick some into thinking this is a frivolous children's movie, but the messages pile up fast and furious. The visual elegance is not reflected in the screenwriting.
HAPPY FEET is a didactic movie that takes on religious fundamentalism and addresses environmental concerns. There's nothing saying that entertainment for kids can't be substantive, but the film's hard sell against belief in the supernatural and for ecological care are simple-minded and preachy. Perhaps it's reading too much into HAPPY FEET, but is Mumble's difference from the pack simply a way of encouraging kids to be comfortable with who they are or suggestive of a lesson in accepting those with racial or sexual identities outside the majority? These thematic elements are bold choices for a movie about singing and dancing emperor penguins, but they don't mesh very well.
As a technical achievement, HAPPY FEET is a seriously impressive film. It's also seriously weird and will probably freak out younger viewers. (The subwoofer gets a particularly vigorous workout, which led to many crying children when I saw it.) Parents are better off taking the kids to FLUSHED AWAY for some holiday moviegoing. The animation may not be as groundbreaking, but it's wittier and has less insistent messages.
Grade: C
Monday, November 20, 2006
Fast Food Nation
FAST FOOD NATION (Richard Linklater, 2006)
It's said that you don't want to watch how sausage gets made. For most, the same probably goes for the process involved in making the hamburger patties sold at fast food restaurants. Eric Schlosser's book FAST FOOD NATION, something of a contemporary companion to Upton Sinclair's 1906 novel THE JUNGLE, gets the fictionalized treatment in director Richard Linklater's film. This tour follows the chain from the illegal immigrants who work at the meat processing plant to the teens slinging burgers and fries and the suits working hard to find ways to sell more of the food.
Fast food chain Mickey's receives bad news. A test shows that too much fecal matter is being found in their burgers. New company VP Don Anderson (Greg Kinnear) is sent to Colorado to root out the cause and remedy the situation. He visits Uni-Globe, which processes all of the meat used in Mickey's top-selling The Big One. The place looks spotless, but as a rancher tell him, if he didn't remember seeing the killing floor, then he didn't get the whole tour.
Uni-Globe employs illegal Mexicans, all in the name of keeping costs low. The work is dirty and smelly, but for Raul (Wilmer Valderrama) and his companions, the pay is better than what they could make at home and is worth the risk of injury, exploitation, or being caught by INS. His wife Sylvia (Catalina Sandino Moreno) has serious reservations about the plant and chooses a lower-paying but less hazardous job as a maid.
Amber (Ashley Johnson) is one of many teenagers whose first job is behind the counter of a burger joint. She works the register at Mickey's without giving much thought to what she's doing. As she searches for answers about her future, Amber begins to question whether she should be working for such a company.
Akin to a socially conscious ensemble film by John Sayles, FAST FOOD NATION takes aim at corporate America moreso than the McDonald's and Burger Kings of the world. Like Linklater's counterculture figures in SLACKER and WAKING LIFE, the characters fear being chewed up by the machine, a concern that is a literal danger for the meat processing workers who lose limbs and digits.
Clearly FAST FOOD NATION'S thesis is that the system is bad for everyone but those at the top raking in money. The food is junk, and the workers are exploited. Despite this viewpoint, Linklater makes efforts to be evenhanded.
In one of the film's best scenes, Bruce Willis turns up as the middle man who negotiates the beef prices for Mickey's with Uni-Globe. He's not shocked by what Don tells him but treats it as part and parcel of the industry. It's not news to him that there are excrement particles in the meat, but what does it matter if the patties are fried so that everything bad gets killed? Today people get freaked out about germs, but at least one study has shown that toilet seats are cleaner than kitchens.
FAST FOOD NATION has an aimless structure that picks up these three primary storylines and some minor ones. Characters disappear for long stretches and sometimes don't return. It doesn't always lead to a good flow. Kinnear's Don is dominant for the first half and then drops out of sight until the start of the end credits. A fast food restaurant robbery thread is introduced but vanishes.
Linklater's body of work shows a love for common people ruminating on the nature of existence. There's plenty of time for armchair philosophizing, not all of which is as enlightened as the characters or filmmakers might believe it to be. For all of FAST FOOD NATION'S sledgehammer evangelizing on the issues, a streak of humor runs through it. Amber's self-discovery is treated with respect, but the collegiate idealists she is attracted to are shown to be foolish, wannabe radicals. This kind of mood lightening is critical to keeping the film from sinking under the weight of its own ideas.
The purpose of FAST FOOD NATION is to inform. This opens it up to criticisms of fingerpointing without providing solutions, although I think it's unfair to expect Linklater and company to solve something as major as how business is conducted in the United States. While I enjoyed seeing how this film fits into the director's oeuvre, it's fair to say that FAST FOOD NATION'S informational function (and ponderousness) will trump entertainment value for most people.
Grade: B-
It's said that you don't want to watch how sausage gets made. For most, the same probably goes for the process involved in making the hamburger patties sold at fast food restaurants. Eric Schlosser's book FAST FOOD NATION, something of a contemporary companion to Upton Sinclair's 1906 novel THE JUNGLE, gets the fictionalized treatment in director Richard Linklater's film. This tour follows the chain from the illegal immigrants who work at the meat processing plant to the teens slinging burgers and fries and the suits working hard to find ways to sell more of the food.
Fast food chain Mickey's receives bad news. A test shows that too much fecal matter is being found in their burgers. New company VP Don Anderson (Greg Kinnear) is sent to Colorado to root out the cause and remedy the situation. He visits Uni-Globe, which processes all of the meat used in Mickey's top-selling The Big One. The place looks spotless, but as a rancher tell him, if he didn't remember seeing the killing floor, then he didn't get the whole tour.
Uni-Globe employs illegal Mexicans, all in the name of keeping costs low. The work is dirty and smelly, but for Raul (Wilmer Valderrama) and his companions, the pay is better than what they could make at home and is worth the risk of injury, exploitation, or being caught by INS. His wife Sylvia (Catalina Sandino Moreno) has serious reservations about the plant and chooses a lower-paying but less hazardous job as a maid.
Amber (Ashley Johnson) is one of many teenagers whose first job is behind the counter of a burger joint. She works the register at Mickey's without giving much thought to what she's doing. As she searches for answers about her future, Amber begins to question whether she should be working for such a company.
Akin to a socially conscious ensemble film by John Sayles, FAST FOOD NATION takes aim at corporate America moreso than the McDonald's and Burger Kings of the world. Like Linklater's counterculture figures in SLACKER and WAKING LIFE, the characters fear being chewed up by the machine, a concern that is a literal danger for the meat processing workers who lose limbs and digits.
Clearly FAST FOOD NATION'S thesis is that the system is bad for everyone but those at the top raking in money. The food is junk, and the workers are exploited. Despite this viewpoint, Linklater makes efforts to be evenhanded.
In one of the film's best scenes, Bruce Willis turns up as the middle man who negotiates the beef prices for Mickey's with Uni-Globe. He's not shocked by what Don tells him but treats it as part and parcel of the industry. It's not news to him that there are excrement particles in the meat, but what does it matter if the patties are fried so that everything bad gets killed? Today people get freaked out about germs, but at least one study has shown that toilet seats are cleaner than kitchens.
FAST FOOD NATION has an aimless structure that picks up these three primary storylines and some minor ones. Characters disappear for long stretches and sometimes don't return. It doesn't always lead to a good flow. Kinnear's Don is dominant for the first half and then drops out of sight until the start of the end credits. A fast food restaurant robbery thread is introduced but vanishes.
Linklater's body of work shows a love for common people ruminating on the nature of existence. There's plenty of time for armchair philosophizing, not all of which is as enlightened as the characters or filmmakers might believe it to be. For all of FAST FOOD NATION'S sledgehammer evangelizing on the issues, a streak of humor runs through it. Amber's self-discovery is treated with respect, but the collegiate idealists she is attracted to are shown to be foolish, wannabe radicals. This kind of mood lightening is critical to keeping the film from sinking under the weight of its own ideas.
The purpose of FAST FOOD NATION is to inform. This opens it up to criticisms of fingerpointing without providing solutions, although I think it's unfair to expect Linklater and company to solve something as major as how business is conducted in the United States. While I enjoyed seeing how this film fits into the director's oeuvre, it's fair to say that FAST FOOD NATION'S informational function (and ponderousness) will trump entertainment value for most people.
Grade: B-
Let's Go to Prison
LET'S GO TO PRISON (Bob Odenkirk, 2006)
John Lyshitski (Dax Shepard) has spent more time in the clink than he has as a free man. As a kid he stole the Publishers Clearing House prize patrol van, which earned him a stay in juvenile detention. His behavior on the other side of eighteen hasn't been much better.
In the comedy LET'S GO TO PRISON John decides to take revenge on the judge who has sentenced him to time behind bars for each of his offenses. Unfortunately for him, Nelson Biederman III (David Darlow) died a few days before John was released. Hellbent on getting back at the judge, he turns his plan onto his son Nelson Biederman IV (Will Arnett), who runs his father's foundation.
John's vengeance amounts to spitting in Nelson's coffee and emptying his inhaler. These small actions have big consequences, though. Nelson has an attack and needs a puff from his inhaler. His reacts badly to it being empty, which results in some pharmacists mistaking him for a junkie trying to rob their store. Nelson's lawyer and the foundation board don't like their overbearing boss, so they conspire to put up a weak defense in court.
Nelson gets incarcerated, but John isn't satisfied. He commits a crime so he can go back to jail, become Nelson's cellmate, and really ruin his life.
LET'S GO TO PRISON is one of the strangest comedies to be released in theaters by a major studio this year. The humor derives from fear of prison rape, getting shivved, and other similarly hilarious aspects of life in the slammer. OK, so it's not very funny, and you could probably write down a high percentage of the jokes without seeing the movie. The film pins its success on being all kinds of weird.
That's to be expected with MR. SHOW'S Bob Odenkirk in the director's chair. (Odenkirk also appears as Nelson's lawyer and gets one of the few funny moments with his cockeyed logic for why Nelson's videotaped actions can't be believed.) As crazy and subversive as LET'S GO TO PRISON'S makers might believe it to be, it's too undisciplined and predictable to amount to anything.
Arnett sneaks in a couple Gob-like moments, but they only highlight how much wittier ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT was. At best LET'S GO TO PRISON is a sketch ballooned into a feature. At worst it's funny people grasping at straws.
Grade: D
John Lyshitski (Dax Shepard) has spent more time in the clink than he has as a free man. As a kid he stole the Publishers Clearing House prize patrol van, which earned him a stay in juvenile detention. His behavior on the other side of eighteen hasn't been much better.
In the comedy LET'S GO TO PRISON John decides to take revenge on the judge who has sentenced him to time behind bars for each of his offenses. Unfortunately for him, Nelson Biederman III (David Darlow) died a few days before John was released. Hellbent on getting back at the judge, he turns his plan onto his son Nelson Biederman IV (Will Arnett), who runs his father's foundation.
John's vengeance amounts to spitting in Nelson's coffee and emptying his inhaler. These small actions have big consequences, though. Nelson has an attack and needs a puff from his inhaler. His reacts badly to it being empty, which results in some pharmacists mistaking him for a junkie trying to rob their store. Nelson's lawyer and the foundation board don't like their overbearing boss, so they conspire to put up a weak defense in court.
Nelson gets incarcerated, but John isn't satisfied. He commits a crime so he can go back to jail, become Nelson's cellmate, and really ruin his life.
LET'S GO TO PRISON is one of the strangest comedies to be released in theaters by a major studio this year. The humor derives from fear of prison rape, getting shivved, and other similarly hilarious aspects of life in the slammer. OK, so it's not very funny, and you could probably write down a high percentage of the jokes without seeing the movie. The film pins its success on being all kinds of weird.
That's to be expected with MR. SHOW'S Bob Odenkirk in the director's chair. (Odenkirk also appears as Nelson's lawyer and gets one of the few funny moments with his cockeyed logic for why Nelson's videotaped actions can't be believed.) As crazy and subversive as LET'S GO TO PRISON'S makers might believe it to be, it's too undisciplined and predictable to amount to anything.
Arnett sneaks in a couple Gob-like moments, but they only highlight how much wittier ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT was. At best LET'S GO TO PRISON is a sketch ballooned into a feature. At worst it's funny people grasping at straws.
Grade: D
Monday, November 13, 2006
Harsh Times
HARSH TIMES (David Ayer, 2005)
After serving six years as an Army Ranger, Jim Davis (Christian Bale) is wound tighter than a coil. He has nightmares about the efficient, brutal killing he did under order in the military, but his cocksure demeanor gives no indication of his inner demons.
HARSH TIMES finds the South Central Los Angeles resident back in civilian life. Jim and his best friend Mike Alonzo (Freddy RodrÃguez) are in need of work. Jim wants to get a job with the LAPD or feds so he can marry his longtime Mexican girlfriend Marta (Tammy Trull) and bring her to the States. Mike needs employment so his wife Sylvia (Eva Longoria) will get off his case. Regardless, their job searches usually lead them to the bottom of some 40s, scoring weed, and trying to fence a brand new Luger pistol.
One day their prospects improve. The Department of Homeland Security expresses interest in Jim despite concerns about his performance on psychological tests. Mike runs into an old buddy in a position to hire him. All this time, though, the likelihood of Jim snapping gets greater.
Built from a basic shot-reverse shot template, HARSH TIMES puts its emphasis on performance. In a role that would have gone to Robert De Niro a couple decades ago, Bale brings the same intensity he's given to brooding or troubled characters in BATMAN BEGINS, AMERICAN PSYCHO, and THE MACHINIST. Jim's detached attitude may signal an imminent mental breakdown, but it's also an asset for a profession that demands cold, calculated action. Bale plays this ticking bomb in such a way that he's never likable, yet you can't take your eyes off him.
RodrÃguez complements Bale well. He pulls off the tricky task of making Mike seem like the upright guy despite doing much of the same things Jim does plus repeatedly lying with a straight face to his wife.
The problem with HARSH TIMES is that it plays more like an actor's workshop than a compelling narrative, the first half in particular. Developments are slowly doled out while Jim and Mike repeat their daily crawl through the city. There's little doubt that things can only end badly. At almost two hours, the film delays the explosion until long past when we care.
The inner city is familiar territory for writer-director David Ayer, whose writing credits include the cop dramas TRAINING DAY and DARK BLUE. His directorial debut showcases his ability to conjure a strong sense of place. The endless driving scenes take us deep into the area the characters call home. The seamy visuals underscore Jim's emotional terrain. If more action propelled this water-treading plot, Ayer might have produced the mean streets classic that HARSH TIMES aspires to be.
Grade: C-
After serving six years as an Army Ranger, Jim Davis (Christian Bale) is wound tighter than a coil. He has nightmares about the efficient, brutal killing he did under order in the military, but his cocksure demeanor gives no indication of his inner demons.
HARSH TIMES finds the South Central Los Angeles resident back in civilian life. Jim and his best friend Mike Alonzo (Freddy RodrÃguez) are in need of work. Jim wants to get a job with the LAPD or feds so he can marry his longtime Mexican girlfriend Marta (Tammy Trull) and bring her to the States. Mike needs employment so his wife Sylvia (Eva Longoria) will get off his case. Regardless, their job searches usually lead them to the bottom of some 40s, scoring weed, and trying to fence a brand new Luger pistol.
One day their prospects improve. The Department of Homeland Security expresses interest in Jim despite concerns about his performance on psychological tests. Mike runs into an old buddy in a position to hire him. All this time, though, the likelihood of Jim snapping gets greater.
Built from a basic shot-reverse shot template, HARSH TIMES puts its emphasis on performance. In a role that would have gone to Robert De Niro a couple decades ago, Bale brings the same intensity he's given to brooding or troubled characters in BATMAN BEGINS, AMERICAN PSYCHO, and THE MACHINIST. Jim's detached attitude may signal an imminent mental breakdown, but it's also an asset for a profession that demands cold, calculated action. Bale plays this ticking bomb in such a way that he's never likable, yet you can't take your eyes off him.
RodrÃguez complements Bale well. He pulls off the tricky task of making Mike seem like the upright guy despite doing much of the same things Jim does plus repeatedly lying with a straight face to his wife.
The problem with HARSH TIMES is that it plays more like an actor's workshop than a compelling narrative, the first half in particular. Developments are slowly doled out while Jim and Mike repeat their daily crawl through the city. There's little doubt that things can only end badly. At almost two hours, the film delays the explosion until long past when we care.
The inner city is familiar territory for writer-director David Ayer, whose writing credits include the cop dramas TRAINING DAY and DARK BLUE. His directorial debut showcases his ability to conjure a strong sense of place. The endless driving scenes take us deep into the area the characters call home. The seamy visuals underscore Jim's emotional terrain. If more action propelled this water-treading plot, Ayer might have produced the mean streets classic that HARSH TIMES aspires to be.
Grade: C-
Saturday, November 11, 2006
The Return
THE RETURN (Asif Kapadia, 2006)
Since she was eleven, Joanna Mills (Sarah Michelle Gellar) has seen visions. The most common is a stringy-haired man in coveralls and work boots who calls her "sunshine" and claims just to want to talk. Every time she thinks she sees him, Joanna squeezes underneath something--a table, a bed--in hopes of avoiding him, regardless of if he's really there.
In THE RETURN, Joanna appears to be a regular 25-year-old, although a bit of a solitary one. She's distanced from her father (Sam Shepard) and friends and prefers when business keeps her on the move, trading hotel room and city night after night. She rarely gets back to her old stomping grounds, but the chance of landing a lucrative account lures her to return.
Upon her arrival, the visions return more forcefully, as does Joanna's childhood habit of cutting herself. She travels on to La Salle, Texas, a place where she's never been but which is home to a red tavern and rundown farmhouse that she's envisioned. Could something have happened to her there that is feeding her waking nightmares?
Director Asif Kapadia and screenwriter Adam Sussman reach into the grab bag of horror movie clichés and pull out fistfuls for THE RETURN. Ghostly country and western song that skips? Unexplainable problems with in-dash radio/CD player? Creepy southerners everywhere you turn? Childhood drawings that help solve the mystery? Check, check, check, and check. Not only is this a film without an original bone in its body, it's also about as thrilling as sitting in the waiting room at the doctor's office.
For as little that happens in THE RETURN, I don't think it has internal consistency. When she expresses interest in the big account, Joanna's boss says that he thought Texas was off limits for her. A critical flashback shows Joanna's dad driving a car with Kansas license plates. At a visit to her father's place, he tells her that her bedroom is the same it was as a girl.
The title, as bland as bland can be, doesn't seem appropriate either. The place to which she returns is somewhere she's never been. The ending provides a kind of answer, but it's a tenuous reason at best to think that THE RETURN fits because of it.
It's easy to pick up on those things because there's a whole lot of nothing going on in this movie. THE RETURN tries to get by on atmosphere alone. The blue-tinted images and eerie silences, themselves played out stylistic choices, don't mean anything when the film lacks dramatic tension and interesting characters.
There's not enough plot in THE RETURN for an episode of GHOST WHISPERER, let alone a feature-length film. At least with a TV show, you don't have to leave the house to be bored.
Grade: D
Since she was eleven, Joanna Mills (Sarah Michelle Gellar) has seen visions. The most common is a stringy-haired man in coveralls and work boots who calls her "sunshine" and claims just to want to talk. Every time she thinks she sees him, Joanna squeezes underneath something--a table, a bed--in hopes of avoiding him, regardless of if he's really there.
In THE RETURN, Joanna appears to be a regular 25-year-old, although a bit of a solitary one. She's distanced from her father (Sam Shepard) and friends and prefers when business keeps her on the move, trading hotel room and city night after night. She rarely gets back to her old stomping grounds, but the chance of landing a lucrative account lures her to return.
Upon her arrival, the visions return more forcefully, as does Joanna's childhood habit of cutting herself. She travels on to La Salle, Texas, a place where she's never been but which is home to a red tavern and rundown farmhouse that she's envisioned. Could something have happened to her there that is feeding her waking nightmares?
Director Asif Kapadia and screenwriter Adam Sussman reach into the grab bag of horror movie clichés and pull out fistfuls for THE RETURN. Ghostly country and western song that skips? Unexplainable problems with in-dash radio/CD player? Creepy southerners everywhere you turn? Childhood drawings that help solve the mystery? Check, check, check, and check. Not only is this a film without an original bone in its body, it's also about as thrilling as sitting in the waiting room at the doctor's office.
For as little that happens in THE RETURN, I don't think it has internal consistency. When she expresses interest in the big account, Joanna's boss says that he thought Texas was off limits for her. A critical flashback shows Joanna's dad driving a car with Kansas license plates. At a visit to her father's place, he tells her that her bedroom is the same it was as a girl.
The title, as bland as bland can be, doesn't seem appropriate either. The place to which she returns is somewhere she's never been. The ending provides a kind of answer, but it's a tenuous reason at best to think that THE RETURN fits because of it.
It's easy to pick up on those things because there's a whole lot of nothing going on in this movie. THE RETURN tries to get by on atmosphere alone. The blue-tinted images and eerie silences, themselves played out stylistic choices, don't mean anything when the film lacks dramatic tension and interesting characters.
There's not enough plot in THE RETURN for an episode of GHOST WHISPERER, let alone a feature-length film. At least with a TV show, you don't have to leave the house to be bored.
Grade: D
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause
THE SANTA CLAUSE 3: THE ESCAPE CLAUSE (Michael Lembeck, 2006)
Preparing for the holidays can be stressful enough. Imagine if it was a year-round process. In THE SANTA CLAUSE 3: THE ESCAPE CLAUSE, the jolly bringer of Christmas cheer finds home and work demands a little overwhelming.
On top of monitoring toy production and naughty and nice lists, Santa Claus (Tim Allen), a.k.a. Scott Calvin, and his wife Carol (Elizabeth Mitchell) have a baby Claus on the way. Carol is understandably nervous, especially since her due date may fall on the same night as Scott/Santa’s big delivery.
Due to the nature of Santa’s work, the location of the Claus home must remain secret, meaning that they’re cut off from family in the U.S. (Scott’s in-laws think he’s a Canadian toymaker.) Nevertheless, Carol asks for her parents (Ann-Margret and Alan Arkin) to be brought to the North Pole to help her through the pregnancy. Scott agrees to retrieve them as long as the joyful village can be redecorated with a maple leaf and hockey theme to sustain the illusion that they’re in Canada.
Adding to Santa’s concerns is Jack Frost (Martin Short), an ambitious fellow who wants to represent a holiday rather than the start of a season. The Council of Legendary Figures is ready to discipline Jack for his unsuccessful attempt to create Frostmas, but Jack persuades them to give him community service helping Santa. Meanwhile, he schemes to take over the big guy’s role.
THE SANTA CLAUSE films may speak to the need for family connections, but this third movie represents another part of the season: the need to move product. It’s no secret that sequel after sequel is produced because they continue to sell tickets. Walt Disney Pictures is going to ride this franchise until they cease to pull in sufficient box office dollars or Tim Allen bails. (That’s when it will likely evolve into a direct-to-video series.) From a business standpoint it makes perfect sense. Creatively, though, it’s another matter entirely.
The two prior films have been profitable enough to justify the existence of a third one—I’ll concede that the second film is a successful family movie—but there’s nowhere for THE SANTA CLAUSE movies to go. The concept’s bankruptcy is apparent in THE SANTA CLAUSE 3 employing the movie world’s equivalent of jumping the shark. An imminent newborn enters into the equation, and the film swallows its own tail by returning twice (!) to the pivotal moment when Scott assumed the responsibility of being Santa.
THE SANTA CLAUSE 3 had the potential for some mildly raucous fun with Jack Frost. Nothing subversive like the vulgar hilarity of the decidedly family-unfriendly BAD SANTA, mind you, but something along the lines of Jack Skellington’s unfortunate reimagining of the holiday in THE NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS or HOW THE GRINCH STOLE CHRISTMAS (the cartoon, not the rancid live-action version) would have been nice.
In the first half of the film Jack takes a back seat to the domestic crises of the Clauses, just what the little ones in the audience want to see. When he finally gets to cut loose, Jack’s evil machinations are manifested by turning the North Pole into a tourist trap and making himself the star of a Broadway-style revue. That’s diabolical but not all that funny.
Allen won’t be winning any awards for his work in films like this—nor should he—but he’s an agreeable actor who has found his niche and is often the best thing about his lesser movies. The Santa Claus role reins him in, but he adds a welcome dash of mischief to the large-hearted guy.
THE SANTA CLAUSE 3 helmer Michael Lembeck is a veteran television director. To his credit, he feeds this stale story in bite-sized servings that make it watchable even if it doesn’t satisfy. This plays a lot like a TV holiday special intended to reach a broad viewership. It’s diverting enough seasonal fare appropriate for a wide age range. Family viewing like THE SANTA CLAUSE 3 won’t muster any strong objections, but who wants a Christmas gift for which that’s the best you can say about it?
Grade: C-
Preparing for the holidays can be stressful enough. Imagine if it was a year-round process. In THE SANTA CLAUSE 3: THE ESCAPE CLAUSE, the jolly bringer of Christmas cheer finds home and work demands a little overwhelming.
On top of monitoring toy production and naughty and nice lists, Santa Claus (Tim Allen), a.k.a. Scott Calvin, and his wife Carol (Elizabeth Mitchell) have a baby Claus on the way. Carol is understandably nervous, especially since her due date may fall on the same night as Scott/Santa’s big delivery.
Due to the nature of Santa’s work, the location of the Claus home must remain secret, meaning that they’re cut off from family in the U.S. (Scott’s in-laws think he’s a Canadian toymaker.) Nevertheless, Carol asks for her parents (Ann-Margret and Alan Arkin) to be brought to the North Pole to help her through the pregnancy. Scott agrees to retrieve them as long as the joyful village can be redecorated with a maple leaf and hockey theme to sustain the illusion that they’re in Canada.
Adding to Santa’s concerns is Jack Frost (Martin Short), an ambitious fellow who wants to represent a holiday rather than the start of a season. The Council of Legendary Figures is ready to discipline Jack for his unsuccessful attempt to create Frostmas, but Jack persuades them to give him community service helping Santa. Meanwhile, he schemes to take over the big guy’s role.
THE SANTA CLAUSE films may speak to the need for family connections, but this third movie represents another part of the season: the need to move product. It’s no secret that sequel after sequel is produced because they continue to sell tickets. Walt Disney Pictures is going to ride this franchise until they cease to pull in sufficient box office dollars or Tim Allen bails. (That’s when it will likely evolve into a direct-to-video series.) From a business standpoint it makes perfect sense. Creatively, though, it’s another matter entirely.
The two prior films have been profitable enough to justify the existence of a third one—I’ll concede that the second film is a successful family movie—but there’s nowhere for THE SANTA CLAUSE movies to go. The concept’s bankruptcy is apparent in THE SANTA CLAUSE 3 employing the movie world’s equivalent of jumping the shark. An imminent newborn enters into the equation, and the film swallows its own tail by returning twice (!) to the pivotal moment when Scott assumed the responsibility of being Santa.
THE SANTA CLAUSE 3 had the potential for some mildly raucous fun with Jack Frost. Nothing subversive like the vulgar hilarity of the decidedly family-unfriendly BAD SANTA, mind you, but something along the lines of Jack Skellington’s unfortunate reimagining of the holiday in THE NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS or HOW THE GRINCH STOLE CHRISTMAS (the cartoon, not the rancid live-action version) would have been nice.
In the first half of the film Jack takes a back seat to the domestic crises of the Clauses, just what the little ones in the audience want to see. When he finally gets to cut loose, Jack’s evil machinations are manifested by turning the North Pole into a tourist trap and making himself the star of a Broadway-style revue. That’s diabolical but not all that funny.
Allen won’t be winning any awards for his work in films like this—nor should he—but he’s an agreeable actor who has found his niche and is often the best thing about his lesser movies. The Santa Claus role reins him in, but he adds a welcome dash of mischief to the large-hearted guy.
THE SANTA CLAUSE 3 helmer Michael Lembeck is a veteran television director. To his credit, he feeds this stale story in bite-sized servings that make it watchable even if it doesn’t satisfy. This plays a lot like a TV holiday special intended to reach a broad viewership. It’s diverting enough seasonal fare appropriate for a wide age range. Family viewing like THE SANTA CLAUSE 3 won’t muster any strong objections, but who wants a Christmas gift for which that’s the best you can say about it?
Grade: C-
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Death of a President
DEATH OF A PRESIDENT (Gabriel Range, 2006)
A film about the future assassination and death of a sitting President is a lightning rod for controversy if ever there was one. It comes as no surprise that some national theater chains have refused to book DEATH OF A PRESIDENT, a documentary that hypothesizes how President George W. Bush might be killed. Blending staged scenes with actors and manipulated file footage, director Gabriel Range constructs a believable account of the President's final hours and the political repercussions of his murder.
Structured like a longform television news piece, DEATH OF A PRESIDENT recounts the events of October 19, 2007 and the subsequent investigation through interviews with eyewitnesses and agents on the case.
The President is visiting Chicago to give a speech on the economy. The Iraq War and tense relations with North Korea have caused thousands of protesters to flock to the site and try to have their voices heard. The Secret Service is wary of the situation, especially when one person breaks through the barricades and smacks the President's car, but he makes it into the Sheraton and to the appointment unharmed. It's not until a meeting with supporters that a sniper mortally injures the American leader.
The bulk of the film is concerned with the politically motivated investigation and the legislation that is passed to increase governmental surveillance powers. DEATH OF A PRESIDENT does not imply that the assassination is part of a conspiracy, but there are suggestions that the President's death is used as a tool to advance President Cheney's interests.
As inflammatory as the subject matter might seem, Range's film is a staid, even somber, piece that takes no satisfaction in the assassination of a head of state. Presumably the director is not fond of Bush's policies, but DEATH OF A PRESIDENT doesn't cater to those who fantasize about the worst befalling Bush. The assassination itself is obstructed through a jumble of people colliding once shots have been fired. A protective circle forms immediately around the wounded President and keeps viewers from seeing much of anything. The Zapruder film this isn't.
DEATH OF A PRESIDENT'S premise will outrage some, although Range tries not to offend. He's made a sober film that explores how such an incident might impact the American Muslim community regardless of who the killer might be. He also looks at how investigators and government officials might justify chipping away at privacy in the name of finding the killer and keeping the population safe.
Range has expertly interwoven real and simulated footage to make a film that looks convincing, but it amounts to little more than a clever editing exercise. DEATH OF A PRESIDENT theorizes what might happen. The problem is it doesn't play effectively as a warning of a near future. The conclusions are hardly revelatory. The dry, matter of fact presentation will keep dissenters at bay, but for such a potentially controversial film, it's relatively boring. The idea of this speculative documentary will rattle some cages, but the execution of it will inspire indifference.
DEATH OF A PRESIDENT'S structure doesn't work within the universe the film imagines. The film would have been released after the assassination and trial, yet it holds the twists until the end. Anyone who lived through the events would already know the secrets that the film squirrels away for its last reels. A more interesting and productive approach would have been to put this information at the beginning, not to mention that it would have better fulfilled the film's conceit.
Grade: C-
A film about the future assassination and death of a sitting President is a lightning rod for controversy if ever there was one. It comes as no surprise that some national theater chains have refused to book DEATH OF A PRESIDENT, a documentary that hypothesizes how President George W. Bush might be killed. Blending staged scenes with actors and manipulated file footage, director Gabriel Range constructs a believable account of the President's final hours and the political repercussions of his murder.
Structured like a longform television news piece, DEATH OF A PRESIDENT recounts the events of October 19, 2007 and the subsequent investigation through interviews with eyewitnesses and agents on the case.
The President is visiting Chicago to give a speech on the economy. The Iraq War and tense relations with North Korea have caused thousands of protesters to flock to the site and try to have their voices heard. The Secret Service is wary of the situation, especially when one person breaks through the barricades and smacks the President's car, but he makes it into the Sheraton and to the appointment unharmed. It's not until a meeting with supporters that a sniper mortally injures the American leader.
The bulk of the film is concerned with the politically motivated investigation and the legislation that is passed to increase governmental surveillance powers. DEATH OF A PRESIDENT does not imply that the assassination is part of a conspiracy, but there are suggestions that the President's death is used as a tool to advance President Cheney's interests.
As inflammatory as the subject matter might seem, Range's film is a staid, even somber, piece that takes no satisfaction in the assassination of a head of state. Presumably the director is not fond of Bush's policies, but DEATH OF A PRESIDENT doesn't cater to those who fantasize about the worst befalling Bush. The assassination itself is obstructed through a jumble of people colliding once shots have been fired. A protective circle forms immediately around the wounded President and keeps viewers from seeing much of anything. The Zapruder film this isn't.
DEATH OF A PRESIDENT'S premise will outrage some, although Range tries not to offend. He's made a sober film that explores how such an incident might impact the American Muslim community regardless of who the killer might be. He also looks at how investigators and government officials might justify chipping away at privacy in the name of finding the killer and keeping the population safe.
Range has expertly interwoven real and simulated footage to make a film that looks convincing, but it amounts to little more than a clever editing exercise. DEATH OF A PRESIDENT theorizes what might happen. The problem is it doesn't play effectively as a warning of a near future. The conclusions are hardly revelatory. The dry, matter of fact presentation will keep dissenters at bay, but for such a potentially controversial film, it's relatively boring. The idea of this speculative documentary will rattle some cages, but the execution of it will inspire indifference.
DEATH OF A PRESIDENT'S structure doesn't work within the universe the film imagines. The film would have been released after the assassination and trial, yet it holds the twists until the end. Anyone who lived through the events would already know the secrets that the film squirrels away for its last reels. A more interesting and productive approach would have been to put this information at the beginning, not to mention that it would have better fulfilled the film's conceit.
Grade: C-
Monday, October 30, 2006
Saw III
SAW III (Darren Lynn Bousman, 2006)
Jigsaw (Tobin Bell), the twisted mastermind of the SAW films, likes to test damaged people's limits to see how much they want to keep on living, no matter how bad they feel their lives are. That's a fair description for the experience of the challenge posed in watching SAW III, a more-of-the-same second sequel that licks its chops at the harm inflicted on the characters. I know I've just about reached my breaking point in enduring yet another so-called horror movie that wallows in the ugliest human impulses for "fun".
For this third go-round, the bedridden Jigsaw has his protégé Amanda (Shawnee Smith) abduct Lynn (Bahar Soomekh), a surgeon in a broken marriage, to tend to his medical needs. Lynn's job is to keep him alive while Amanda monitors another of his games. To keep Lynn motivated, a contraption with cocked triggers and shotgun shells is placed around her neck. If Jigsaw's heart stops or she tries to go too far away, kablam.
Elsewhere in the same decrepit building, a grieving father is marched through one of Jigsaw's shock therapy games. Jeff (Angus Macfadyen) cannot let go of his anger over the accidental death of his son and wishes to exact revenge upon the lightly sentenced perpetrator. Jigsaw may grant him his wish, although viewers of the first two SAW films know that Jeff won't want to follow through on the opportunity.
With films such as HOSTEL raising the stakes for on-screen depictions of cruelty and torture, the makers of SAW III must feel obligated to give the franchise a little more gore for the greenbacks. It's not the most violent and stomach-turning film to come out this year, but believe it or not, there's a more sadistic streak than was found in the original or SAW II. Two horrific deaths are shown before the main story begins. Neither move along SAW III'S plot, so the inclusion of these scenes is truly gratuitous.
The same applies to the distasteful use of female nudity in a torture setting and a single utterance of a still generally taboo word for female genitalia. What other choice is there if the competition is pushing the envelope? Three SAW films have exhausted the concept. This box office golden goose has a future of going more extreme and making "the beginning" movies about Jigsaw, a direction suggested a few times here.
SAW III is essentially a grim schoolyard game of "would you rather...?" rendered in nasty vignettes. Yes, it's only a movie, but there's enough pain and suffering in the world that consuming this as entertainment seems obscene.
Grade: D
Jigsaw (Tobin Bell), the twisted mastermind of the SAW films, likes to test damaged people's limits to see how much they want to keep on living, no matter how bad they feel their lives are. That's a fair description for the experience of the challenge posed in watching SAW III, a more-of-the-same second sequel that licks its chops at the harm inflicted on the characters. I know I've just about reached my breaking point in enduring yet another so-called horror movie that wallows in the ugliest human impulses for "fun".
For this third go-round, the bedridden Jigsaw has his protégé Amanda (Shawnee Smith) abduct Lynn (Bahar Soomekh), a surgeon in a broken marriage, to tend to his medical needs. Lynn's job is to keep him alive while Amanda monitors another of his games. To keep Lynn motivated, a contraption with cocked triggers and shotgun shells is placed around her neck. If Jigsaw's heart stops or she tries to go too far away, kablam.
Elsewhere in the same decrepit building, a grieving father is marched through one of Jigsaw's shock therapy games. Jeff (Angus Macfadyen) cannot let go of his anger over the accidental death of his son and wishes to exact revenge upon the lightly sentenced perpetrator. Jigsaw may grant him his wish, although viewers of the first two SAW films know that Jeff won't want to follow through on the opportunity.
With films such as HOSTEL raising the stakes for on-screen depictions of cruelty and torture, the makers of SAW III must feel obligated to give the franchise a little more gore for the greenbacks. It's not the most violent and stomach-turning film to come out this year, but believe it or not, there's a more sadistic streak than was found in the original or SAW II. Two horrific deaths are shown before the main story begins. Neither move along SAW III'S plot, so the inclusion of these scenes is truly gratuitous.
The same applies to the distasteful use of female nudity in a torture setting and a single utterance of a still generally taboo word for female genitalia. What other choice is there if the competition is pushing the envelope? Three SAW films have exhausted the concept. This box office golden goose has a future of going more extreme and making "the beginning" movies about Jigsaw, a direction suggested a few times here.
SAW III is essentially a grim schoolyard game of "would you rather...?" rendered in nasty vignettes. Yes, it's only a movie, but there's enough pain and suffering in the world that consuming this as entertainment seems obscene.
Grade: D
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore
My second submission to Nights and Weekends.com is now online. It's a humor piece--think funny in scare quotes--called The Disclaimer.
In a sense, it's a return to what I used to write. In high school I tried my hand at David Letterman-esque top ten lists. I saw some of the lists several years ago when my parents were moving and thus giving me some of the things I had at home. It was pretty cringe-worthy stuff, but friends seemed to like them at the time.
I'll make no guarantees of The Disclaimer causing side-splitting laughter. Check that. It won't cause a busted gut. It's merely a dry take on the absurdity of disclaimers, especially those that come on DVD cases. I hope you find it moderately clever. If not, at least it's short.
In a sense, it's a return to what I used to write. In high school I tried my hand at David Letterman-esque top ten lists. I saw some of the lists several years ago when my parents were moving and thus giving me some of the things I had at home. It was pretty cringe-worthy stuff, but friends seemed to like them at the time.
I'll make no guarantees of The Disclaimer causing side-splitting laughter. Check that. It won't cause a busted gut. It's merely a dry take on the absurdity of disclaimers, especially those that come on DVD cases. I hope you find it moderately clever. If not, at least it's short.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Marie Antoinette
MARIE ANTOINETTE (Sofia Coppola, 2006)
Sofia Coppola’s MARIE ANTOINETTE takes a sympathetic view of the future French queen, a teenager who had to abandon everything she brought with her from Austria—even the clothes on her back—to wed dauphin Louis Auguste (Jason Schwartzman). The marriage is a political arrangement, one intended to strengthen relations between Marie’s Austria and France.
Marie (Kirsten Dunst) finds life at Versailles to be a bureaucratic comedy. Getting dressed each morning is a group affair dictated by social standing of those present. The reigning king (Rip Torn) openly indulges his affair with the whore Madame du Barry (Asia Argento), whose purchased title is . Of greater concern is Marie’s unconsummated marriage with her disinterested husband. Louis Auguste expends his energy hunting and making keys while resisting Marie’s attempts to conceive an heir. Pressure to produce a boy builds as Louis’ sexual preference becomes gossip fodder and the young couple ascends to the throne.
Rather than a critical portrait of the infamous French queen, MARIE ANTOINETTE sees her as a bird in a gilded cage. Essentially traded like property to the French royal family for political capital, Marie lives the high life but one dominated by ennui and loneliness. Coppola’s Versailles insulates Marie from the outside world, all the better to understand why she fritters away her time on fashion and sweets while opposition to the crown builds in the streets of Paris.
As in THE VIRGIN SUICIDES and LOST IN TRANSLATION, Coppola again proves that a dazzling visual sense is her strength as a director. MARIE ANTOINETTE is a gorgeous film with sumptuous production and costume design. Cinematographer Lance Acord’s natural lighting creates a fantasy world inside the royal home and highlights the beauty of the countryside with sun-kissed shots. Every frame of MARIE ANTOINETTE is like a painting, be it the stunning images of reflected light on the palace or the teeming party scenes.
Coppola’s talent with imagery and atmosphere make her narrative weaknesses all the more glaring. The fashion-conscious MARIE ANTOINETTE looks great. Imagine what this attractive but empty shell of a movie might have been with something inside it. Coppola has borrowed a thing or two from Wong Kar-wai when it comes to depicting wistful alienation, but unlike her previous efforts, here she struggles to give audiences any reason to care. There’s little psychological depth to the characters, and often they’re undercut by stilted dialogue, perhaps none more than Schwartzman.
Schwartzman came to attention as Max Fischer in Wes Anderson’s RUSHMORE. Whether fair or not, it’s hard to separate the actor from his breakthrough role, especially when playing another awkward, sullen character with an odd hobby. Magnifying the problem, Coppola’s screenplay leads many of the performers to act as though this period piece is a contemporary production staged by the Max Fischer Players. Some of MARIE ANTOINETTE is intended to play as comedy, but it's not always clear when that's the case and when it's accidentally funny.
Dunst fares better as a ray of light among the dour royal court, but the writing lets her down too. MARIE ANTOINETTE feels for the queen, but the emotion is held at a distance. The slight plot, which meanders a great deal once an heir is born, exists as a series of events. Such an approach misses the opportunity to explore Marie’s feelings and instead favors the filmmaker’s reading of the historical figure without getting to know the person.
Grade: C
Sofia Coppola’s MARIE ANTOINETTE takes a sympathetic view of the future French queen, a teenager who had to abandon everything she brought with her from Austria—even the clothes on her back—to wed dauphin Louis Auguste (Jason Schwartzman). The marriage is a political arrangement, one intended to strengthen relations between Marie’s Austria and France.
Marie (Kirsten Dunst) finds life at Versailles to be a bureaucratic comedy. Getting dressed each morning is a group affair dictated by social standing of those present. The reigning king (Rip Torn) openly indulges his affair with the whore Madame du Barry (Asia Argento), whose purchased title is . Of greater concern is Marie’s unconsummated marriage with her disinterested husband. Louis Auguste expends his energy hunting and making keys while resisting Marie’s attempts to conceive an heir. Pressure to produce a boy builds as Louis’ sexual preference becomes gossip fodder and the young couple ascends to the throne.
Rather than a critical portrait of the infamous French queen, MARIE ANTOINETTE sees her as a bird in a gilded cage. Essentially traded like property to the French royal family for political capital, Marie lives the high life but one dominated by ennui and loneliness. Coppola’s Versailles insulates Marie from the outside world, all the better to understand why she fritters away her time on fashion and sweets while opposition to the crown builds in the streets of Paris.
As in THE VIRGIN SUICIDES and LOST IN TRANSLATION, Coppola again proves that a dazzling visual sense is her strength as a director. MARIE ANTOINETTE is a gorgeous film with sumptuous production and costume design. Cinematographer Lance Acord’s natural lighting creates a fantasy world inside the royal home and highlights the beauty of the countryside with sun-kissed shots. Every frame of MARIE ANTOINETTE is like a painting, be it the stunning images of reflected light on the palace or the teeming party scenes.
Coppola’s talent with imagery and atmosphere make her narrative weaknesses all the more glaring. The fashion-conscious MARIE ANTOINETTE looks great. Imagine what this attractive but empty shell of a movie might have been with something inside it. Coppola has borrowed a thing or two from Wong Kar-wai when it comes to depicting wistful alienation, but unlike her previous efforts, here she struggles to give audiences any reason to care. There’s little psychological depth to the characters, and often they’re undercut by stilted dialogue, perhaps none more than Schwartzman.
Schwartzman came to attention as Max Fischer in Wes Anderson’s RUSHMORE. Whether fair or not, it’s hard to separate the actor from his breakthrough role, especially when playing another awkward, sullen character with an odd hobby. Magnifying the problem, Coppola’s screenplay leads many of the performers to act as though this period piece is a contemporary production staged by the Max Fischer Players. Some of MARIE ANTOINETTE is intended to play as comedy, but it's not always clear when that's the case and when it's accidentally funny.
Dunst fares better as a ray of light among the dour royal court, but the writing lets her down too. MARIE ANTOINETTE feels for the queen, but the emotion is held at a distance. The slight plot, which meanders a great deal once an heir is born, exists as a series of events. Such an approach misses the opportunity to explore Marie’s feelings and instead favors the filmmaker’s reading of the historical figure without getting to know the person.
Grade: C
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
The Grudge 2
THE GRUDGE 2 (Takashi Shimizu, 2006)
If dying in a powerful rage can cause a curse to be born, as THE GRUDGE 2 insists, then surely feeling severe dissatisfaction from watching this awful sequel will produce minor disturbances in movie theaters across the nation. Subsequent moviegoers will suffer nothing as serious as death from raven-haired spirits, mind you, but popcorn will mysteriously become stale and fellow viewers will forget to turn off their cell phones. Actually, that last one will probably happen, lesser curse or not.
THE GRUDGE 2 consists of three storylines, one of which picks up the thread from the conclusion of its 2004 predecessor. Upon receiving news that her sister Karen (Sarah Michelle Gellar) has been hospitalized, Aubrey Davis (Amber Tamblyn) goes to Tokyo to find out what’s wrong with her. (Although Gellar is in the film, she has the good sense to make little more than an extended cameo.) Aubrey disregards all warnings about the supernatural forces at play and investigates the circumstances that brought about Karen’s incapacitated state.
A second Tokyo-based storyline has unpopular schoolgirl Allison (Arielle Kebbel) giving in to peer pressure and entering the cursed house from THE GRUDGE on a dare. She too begins seeing all manner of creepy things, like the ghostly little boy who shrieks like a cat.
There’s also a sequence set in Chicago in which Jennifer Beals’ character moves in with her lover and his two children. It’s safe to say that the new living arrangement is probably doomed because of all sorts of bad vibes emanating from the neighbor girl shrouded in her hooded sweatshirt.
Apparently writer-director Takashi Shimizu has made a career out of redoing the same two films over and over, which seems like a curse in its own right. His Internet Movie Database filmography lists entries for JU-ON and JU-ON 2, both made in 2000; 2003’s JU-ON: THE GRUDGE and JU-ON: THE GRUDGE 2, theatrical versions of the earlier films; and THE GRUDGE and THE GRUDGE 2, his English-language remakes. (If the IMDb listing is correct, there’s more to come. The Japanese-language JU-ON: THE GRUDGE 3 is supposedly due next year.)
It comes as no surprise that this material doesn’t seem fresh, even if one hasn’t seen the other versions. Shimizu’s direction is on auto-pilot. He reuses scenarios, images, and beats that drain THE GRUDGE 2 of suspense. The repetition is numbing, and it leads to inadvertent laughter. For all intents and purposes, THE GRUDGE 2 is a parody of itself and the most recent wave of Japanese horror. I couldn’t stop from laughing when a girl guzzles a half gallon of milk and regurgitates it back into the jug.
Although short on plot, THE GRUDGE succeeded as a stylish exercise in mood. The tension was built slowly with long silences and punctuated by chilling images. THE GRUDGE 2 isn’t frightening at all, save for the stingers on the soundtrack that function as reflex tests rather than actual scares. Since it doesn’t cause any anxiety, the film can be seen for the poorly written rehash that it is.
Studios are milking their back catalogs by cranking out cheap direct-to-video sequels without the original stars—THE PRINCE & ME 2 and LIKE MIKE 2, anyone? Although it received a theatrical run, THE GRUDGE 2 is just reconstituted product, a watered down version of a decent original.
Grade: D-
If dying in a powerful rage can cause a curse to be born, as THE GRUDGE 2 insists, then surely feeling severe dissatisfaction from watching this awful sequel will produce minor disturbances in movie theaters across the nation. Subsequent moviegoers will suffer nothing as serious as death from raven-haired spirits, mind you, but popcorn will mysteriously become stale and fellow viewers will forget to turn off their cell phones. Actually, that last one will probably happen, lesser curse or not.
THE GRUDGE 2 consists of three storylines, one of which picks up the thread from the conclusion of its 2004 predecessor. Upon receiving news that her sister Karen (Sarah Michelle Gellar) has been hospitalized, Aubrey Davis (Amber Tamblyn) goes to Tokyo to find out what’s wrong with her. (Although Gellar is in the film, she has the good sense to make little more than an extended cameo.) Aubrey disregards all warnings about the supernatural forces at play and investigates the circumstances that brought about Karen’s incapacitated state.
A second Tokyo-based storyline has unpopular schoolgirl Allison (Arielle Kebbel) giving in to peer pressure and entering the cursed house from THE GRUDGE on a dare. She too begins seeing all manner of creepy things, like the ghostly little boy who shrieks like a cat.
There’s also a sequence set in Chicago in which Jennifer Beals’ character moves in with her lover and his two children. It’s safe to say that the new living arrangement is probably doomed because of all sorts of bad vibes emanating from the neighbor girl shrouded in her hooded sweatshirt.
Apparently writer-director Takashi Shimizu has made a career out of redoing the same two films over and over, which seems like a curse in its own right. His Internet Movie Database filmography lists entries for JU-ON and JU-ON 2, both made in 2000; 2003’s JU-ON: THE GRUDGE and JU-ON: THE GRUDGE 2, theatrical versions of the earlier films; and THE GRUDGE and THE GRUDGE 2, his English-language remakes. (If the IMDb listing is correct, there’s more to come. The Japanese-language JU-ON: THE GRUDGE 3 is supposedly due next year.)
It comes as no surprise that this material doesn’t seem fresh, even if one hasn’t seen the other versions. Shimizu’s direction is on auto-pilot. He reuses scenarios, images, and beats that drain THE GRUDGE 2 of suspense. The repetition is numbing, and it leads to inadvertent laughter. For all intents and purposes, THE GRUDGE 2 is a parody of itself and the most recent wave of Japanese horror. I couldn’t stop from laughing when a girl guzzles a half gallon of milk and regurgitates it back into the jug.
Although short on plot, THE GRUDGE succeeded as a stylish exercise in mood. The tension was built slowly with long silences and punctuated by chilling images. THE GRUDGE 2 isn’t frightening at all, save for the stingers on the soundtrack that function as reflex tests rather than actual scares. Since it doesn’t cause any anxiety, the film can be seen for the poorly written rehash that it is.
Studios are milking their back catalogs by cranking out cheap direct-to-video sequels without the original stars—THE PRINCE & ME 2 and LIKE MIKE 2, anyone? Although it received a theatrical run, THE GRUDGE 2 is just reconstituted product, a watered down version of a decent original.
Grade: D-
Thursday, October 12, 2006
The Protector (Tom yum goong)
THE PROTECTOR (TOM YUM GOONG) (Prachya Pinkaew, 2005)
Muay Thai martial artist Tony Jaa leaves his homeland to rescue two elephants entrusted to his care in THE PROTECTOR. Jaa’s character Kham comes from a family which has upheld the ancient tradition of raising and protecting the king’s elephants. When his father is murdered and their animals stolen, Kham travels to Australia to track down the gangster responsible.
Tony Jaa’s first starring vehicle, ONG-BAK: THAI WARRIOR, was a bracing kick of physical stunts and ingenious action scenes. Jaa looked poised to become the next big thing in Asian martial arts cinema, but THE PROTECTOR is a step backwards for the star and his director Prachya Pinkaew.
THE PROTECTOR’S plot is as sturdy as a piece of balsa wood, which wouldn’t have mattered so much if the film had showcased Jaa’s talents better. What made ONG-BAK so exhilarating was seeing him running up walls and doing other crazy moves. Although THE PROTECTOR is essentially an 80-minute fight scene, it’s largely lacking in the eye-popping stunt department.
The only notable sequence in this ordinary film is when Pinkaew uses an unbroken take to follow Jaa as he dispatches dozens of bad guys and makes his way up several floors of the gangster’s restaurant. The camerawork and Jaa’s punching and kicking efficiency mimic a video game, but in shooting the scene wide and in a long take, the director gives an appreciation of the star’s abilities.
At this point Jaa doesn’t display the charisma of Jackie Chan or Jet Li, in part because THE PROTECTOR doesn’t require him to do more than look distressed or angry. His last film was quite funny, but aside from the occasional amusing oddity—the villain signals his X Games assassins by triggering a siren that apparently can be heard through all of Sydney—THE PROTECTOR doesn’t elicit many laughs.
The Weinstein Company is releasing THE PROTECTOR. When he was at Miramax Harvey Weinstein was notorious for reediting and dubbing Asian films for American release. It looks like he’s been at it again. THE PROTECTOR is an inconsistent mix of original language with subtitles and bad dubbing. The film has been rescored by The RZA, and I’d wager there are scenes that have been removed from the original cut. While I prefer that the director’s vision be imported than a studio execs, I don’t think the alterations have done mortal damage to the film. THE PROTECTOR is flawed enough on its own.
Grade: C-
Muay Thai martial artist Tony Jaa leaves his homeland to rescue two elephants entrusted to his care in THE PROTECTOR. Jaa’s character Kham comes from a family which has upheld the ancient tradition of raising and protecting the king’s elephants. When his father is murdered and their animals stolen, Kham travels to Australia to track down the gangster responsible.
Tony Jaa’s first starring vehicle, ONG-BAK: THAI WARRIOR, was a bracing kick of physical stunts and ingenious action scenes. Jaa looked poised to become the next big thing in Asian martial arts cinema, but THE PROTECTOR is a step backwards for the star and his director Prachya Pinkaew.
THE PROTECTOR’S plot is as sturdy as a piece of balsa wood, which wouldn’t have mattered so much if the film had showcased Jaa’s talents better. What made ONG-BAK so exhilarating was seeing him running up walls and doing other crazy moves. Although THE PROTECTOR is essentially an 80-minute fight scene, it’s largely lacking in the eye-popping stunt department.
The only notable sequence in this ordinary film is when Pinkaew uses an unbroken take to follow Jaa as he dispatches dozens of bad guys and makes his way up several floors of the gangster’s restaurant. The camerawork and Jaa’s punching and kicking efficiency mimic a video game, but in shooting the scene wide and in a long take, the director gives an appreciation of the star’s abilities.
At this point Jaa doesn’t display the charisma of Jackie Chan or Jet Li, in part because THE PROTECTOR doesn’t require him to do more than look distressed or angry. His last film was quite funny, but aside from the occasional amusing oddity—the villain signals his X Games assassins by triggering a siren that apparently can be heard through all of Sydney—THE PROTECTOR doesn’t elicit many laughs.
The Weinstein Company is releasing THE PROTECTOR. When he was at Miramax Harvey Weinstein was notorious for reediting and dubbing Asian films for American release. It looks like he’s been at it again. THE PROTECTOR is an inconsistent mix of original language with subtitles and bad dubbing. The film has been rescored by The RZA, and I’d wager there are scenes that have been removed from the original cut. While I prefer that the director’s vision be imported than a studio execs, I don’t think the alterations have done mortal damage to the film. THE PROTECTOR is flawed enough on its own.
Grade: C-
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Employee of the Month
EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH (Greg Coolidge, 2006)
In EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH rumor has it that the new buxom, blonde cashier at bulk retailer Super Club has a thing for the staff member honored every thirty days. Zack (Dane Cook), a lackadaisical box boy, takes the information to heart and strives to unseat Vince (Dax Shepard), a flashy checkout worker who has won the award seventeen months in a row. As if hooking up with Amy (Jessica Simpson) isn’t ample motivation, Vince can win a “new-ish” car by extending his streak another month.
Cook is the stand-up comic of the moment, although there’s little in EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH to explain why he’s currently one of the hottest names in comedy. He exhibits some scruffy appeal as Zack, who’s a mix of a calmer, less pathetic Adam Sandler character and a less obnoxious version of Ryan Reynolds’ WAITING… troublemaker, but mostly he plays the straight man to the wacky supporting cast. Surrounded by a who’s who of scene-stealing comic actors (Andy Dick, Harland Williams, Efren Ramirez a.k.a. Pedro in NAPOLEON DYNAMITE), Cook stands in the middle of the zaniness rather than participate in it.
He receives no assistance from Simpson, who’s good at spilling out of her low-cut clothing and nothing more. Aside from her prominently framed physical attributes, she’s a blank on screen. It’s telling that EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH tends to cut to reaction shots during her lines.
EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH shares more than a passing resemblance with WAITING…, that odious comedy about casual dining servers, and wants to recall OFFICE SPACE, the king of modern workplace comedies. Those films established a good sense of the daily slog and indignities in the jobs whereas EMPLOYEE fails to take full advantage of its megamart setting. The film could have used more scenes like the big bagging competition and an after hours date a la CAREER OPPORTUNITIES. This Noah’s ark of merchandise gets ignored for jokes about a pneumatic tube messaging system and a plush cashier’s-only lounge.
Messages are an afterthought in films like EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH, yet it’s mildly distressing that here the underlying theme is that it’s better to eliminate all ambition and stick with one’s friends than try to improve one’s station. Rising through the chain of command and keeping old relationships aren’t mutually exclusive, but the film would have us believe that bettering one’s self means abandoning buddies. Talk about keeping the working man down.
Grade: C-
In EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH rumor has it that the new buxom, blonde cashier at bulk retailer Super Club has a thing for the staff member honored every thirty days. Zack (Dane Cook), a lackadaisical box boy, takes the information to heart and strives to unseat Vince (Dax Shepard), a flashy checkout worker who has won the award seventeen months in a row. As if hooking up with Amy (Jessica Simpson) isn’t ample motivation, Vince can win a “new-ish” car by extending his streak another month.
Cook is the stand-up comic of the moment, although there’s little in EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH to explain why he’s currently one of the hottest names in comedy. He exhibits some scruffy appeal as Zack, who’s a mix of a calmer, less pathetic Adam Sandler character and a less obnoxious version of Ryan Reynolds’ WAITING… troublemaker, but mostly he plays the straight man to the wacky supporting cast. Surrounded by a who’s who of scene-stealing comic actors (Andy Dick, Harland Williams, Efren Ramirez a.k.a. Pedro in NAPOLEON DYNAMITE), Cook stands in the middle of the zaniness rather than participate in it.
He receives no assistance from Simpson, who’s good at spilling out of her low-cut clothing and nothing more. Aside from her prominently framed physical attributes, she’s a blank on screen. It’s telling that EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH tends to cut to reaction shots during her lines.
EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH shares more than a passing resemblance with WAITING…, that odious comedy about casual dining servers, and wants to recall OFFICE SPACE, the king of modern workplace comedies. Those films established a good sense of the daily slog and indignities in the jobs whereas EMPLOYEE fails to take full advantage of its megamart setting. The film could have used more scenes like the big bagging competition and an after hours date a la CAREER OPPORTUNITIES. This Noah’s ark of merchandise gets ignored for jokes about a pneumatic tube messaging system and a plush cashier’s-only lounge.
Messages are an afterthought in films like EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH, yet it’s mildly distressing that here the underlying theme is that it’s better to eliminate all ambition and stick with one’s friends than try to improve one’s station. Rising through the chain of command and keeping old relationships aren’t mutually exclusive, but the film would have us believe that bettering one’s self means abandoning buddies. Talk about keeping the working man down.
Grade: C-
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Gridiron Gang
GRIDIRON GANG (Phil Joanou, 2006)
In GRIDIRON GANG juvenile detention center counselor Sean Porter (Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson) notices that many of the boys he and his co-workers are supposed to be rehabilitating return with fresh sentences or end up killed. The teenagers are full of anger but have no productive way of releasing their energy. A former college pigskin star whose career was cut short by injury, Sean decides that football might be a positive way to channel their pent-up aggression, build teamwork, and cross the gang lines that extend into the center.
The philosophy espoused in GRIDIRON GANG places the team above the individual, but the film is carried on the broad shoulders of the charismatic Johnson. The actor, best known from his days as a pro wrestler, has almost always been the best thing about his films, even the lousy ones. His imposing figure and megawatt smile allow him to be at home doing action and comedy, and on screen he comes across as eminently likable.
GRIDIRON GANG is a transitional movie for the star. Johnson exercises traditional dramatic chops as the inspirational coach who has the best interests of the wayward kids at heart. He’s completely convincing as someone smooth enough to finesse the administrators who initially balk at the idea and tough enough to make the juvenile delinquents listen and respect him. The end credits show snippets of a documentary about the coach on whom Johnson’s character is based. It’s astonishing how much Johnson resembles him in personality and physical presence. If there was still any doubt, Johnson should no longer have to fight his wrestling past to be taken seriously as an actor.
As for the football action and motivational storyline, GRIDIRON GANG hits the standard beats with a light touch. The outcome-driven sports movie requirements are balanced with the emotional arcs of the counselors and the players. The gridiron play is fast and hard-hitting but not so overblown that it seems like a miracle anyone can walk away unharmed. The players’ troubled backgrounds aren’t soft sold or overdramatized. A minor fault is the impression that Sean works at the center 24 hours a day except when he’s visiting his sick mother. He’s not made out to be a saint, but with his work load it wouldn’t hurt to be one.
GRIDIRON GANG is a hybrid of familiar football movies and teacher-as-savior films. The conventions don’t limit the film but pave the way for a highly satisfying view.
Grade: B
In GRIDIRON GANG juvenile detention center counselor Sean Porter (Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson) notices that many of the boys he and his co-workers are supposed to be rehabilitating return with fresh sentences or end up killed. The teenagers are full of anger but have no productive way of releasing their energy. A former college pigskin star whose career was cut short by injury, Sean decides that football might be a positive way to channel their pent-up aggression, build teamwork, and cross the gang lines that extend into the center.
The philosophy espoused in GRIDIRON GANG places the team above the individual, but the film is carried on the broad shoulders of the charismatic Johnson. The actor, best known from his days as a pro wrestler, has almost always been the best thing about his films, even the lousy ones. His imposing figure and megawatt smile allow him to be at home doing action and comedy, and on screen he comes across as eminently likable.
GRIDIRON GANG is a transitional movie for the star. Johnson exercises traditional dramatic chops as the inspirational coach who has the best interests of the wayward kids at heart. He’s completely convincing as someone smooth enough to finesse the administrators who initially balk at the idea and tough enough to make the juvenile delinquents listen and respect him. The end credits show snippets of a documentary about the coach on whom Johnson’s character is based. It’s astonishing how much Johnson resembles him in personality and physical presence. If there was still any doubt, Johnson should no longer have to fight his wrestling past to be taken seriously as an actor.
As for the football action and motivational storyline, GRIDIRON GANG hits the standard beats with a light touch. The outcome-driven sports movie requirements are balanced with the emotional arcs of the counselors and the players. The gridiron play is fast and hard-hitting but not so overblown that it seems like a miracle anyone can walk away unharmed. The players’ troubled backgrounds aren’t soft sold or overdramatized. A minor fault is the impression that Sean works at the center 24 hours a day except when he’s visiting his sick mother. He’s not made out to be a saint, but with his work load it wouldn’t hurt to be one.
GRIDIRON GANG is a hybrid of familiar football movies and teacher-as-savior films. The conventions don’t limit the film but pave the way for a highly satisfying view.
Grade: B
Friday, September 29, 2006
Flyboys
FLYBOYS (Tony Bill, 2006)
FLYBOYS tells the stories of the first American combat pilots. Many of the volunteers had no prior flight experience when they went to France to fight Germany during World War I. Inspired by the true story of the 1917 Lafayette Escadrille, FLYBOYS follows a group that includes Blaine Rawlings (James Franco), a Texas farm boy whose family ranch was foreclosed; Briggs Lowry (Tyler Labine), a millionaire’s son out to prove himself; and Eugene Skinner (Abdul Salis), a former slave’s son who had been working in France as a boxer.
FLYBOYS pays respect to the memories of the original fighting airmen and marvels at their heroism. The American flyers were not drafted or even fighting for their own country, yet they put their lives on the line every time they took to the sky. Such reverence in war films can lead to dramatic inertia, but FLYBOYS sustains a sense of wonder through its detailed depiction of training routines, military culture, and aerial combat.
Detail doesn’t always mean good. The dreadful GODS AND GENERALS was suffocated in part by slavish devotion to Civil War reenactments; however, FLYBOYS is most interesting when it shows the technology involved in preparing these young flyers. Training included being spun around in a chair and then walking a narrow beam to being pushed in a makeshift plane body on tracks and firing at targets. Their tools were perhaps even less advanced. They were given hammers to fix jammed machine guns and pistols to use as a means of avoiding fiery deaths. (They did not have parachutes.) This old-fashioned adventure works hard to stay true to the experiences that it’s slightly distracting when it turns to obvious movie moments.
The combat scenes are well executed, and the effects pass the believability test for the most part. My guess is that most of the action was shot with models—it doesn’t look like a lot of CGI is on display—and the illusion is much more realistic, save for a couple times.
As with any film constructed from a purportedly true story, FLYBOYS takes liberties with the characters. Most resemble real pilots or are composites but function as war movie archetypes. All the time goes into the meticulous documenting of what the flyboys did, leaving less for who they were. FLYBOYS rises above these flat characterizations to provide an often fascinating glimpse of the lives of early airmen.
Grade: B-
FLYBOYS tells the stories of the first American combat pilots. Many of the volunteers had no prior flight experience when they went to France to fight Germany during World War I. Inspired by the true story of the 1917 Lafayette Escadrille, FLYBOYS follows a group that includes Blaine Rawlings (James Franco), a Texas farm boy whose family ranch was foreclosed; Briggs Lowry (Tyler Labine), a millionaire’s son out to prove himself; and Eugene Skinner (Abdul Salis), a former slave’s son who had been working in France as a boxer.
FLYBOYS pays respect to the memories of the original fighting airmen and marvels at their heroism. The American flyers were not drafted or even fighting for their own country, yet they put their lives on the line every time they took to the sky. Such reverence in war films can lead to dramatic inertia, but FLYBOYS sustains a sense of wonder through its detailed depiction of training routines, military culture, and aerial combat.
Detail doesn’t always mean good. The dreadful GODS AND GENERALS was suffocated in part by slavish devotion to Civil War reenactments; however, FLYBOYS is most interesting when it shows the technology involved in preparing these young flyers. Training included being spun around in a chair and then walking a narrow beam to being pushed in a makeshift plane body on tracks and firing at targets. Their tools were perhaps even less advanced. They were given hammers to fix jammed machine guns and pistols to use as a means of avoiding fiery deaths. (They did not have parachutes.) This old-fashioned adventure works hard to stay true to the experiences that it’s slightly distracting when it turns to obvious movie moments.
The combat scenes are well executed, and the effects pass the believability test for the most part. My guess is that most of the action was shot with models—it doesn’t look like a lot of CGI is on display—and the illusion is much more realistic, save for a couple times.
As with any film constructed from a purportedly true story, FLYBOYS takes liberties with the characters. Most resemble real pilots or are composites but function as war movie archetypes. All the time goes into the meticulous documenting of what the flyboys did, leaving less for who they were. FLYBOYS rises above these flat characterizations to provide an often fascinating glimpse of the lives of early airmen.
Grade: B-
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Confetti
CONFETTI (Debbie Isitt, 2006)
The mock documentary CONFETTI satirizes the wedding industry and the couples who want to do something different for their special day. Confetti magazine sponsors a contest to put on the most creative ceremony. Two of the finalist couples’ themes—tennis and 1930s Hollywood musicals—offer the possibility of delivering stylish events that will look attractive on the cover of the magazine. The naturist couple wants to have a nude wedding, which presents a dilemma for the publication if they win.
CONFETTI is the latest mockumentary to encounter the problem of reality, or reality TV, being more outrageous than the filmmaker’s send-up. With bridezillas raging across the screens of cable television, the relatively well-behaved couples in CONFETTI don’t stand a chance of matching the level of derision that their real-life counterparts encourage.
The wedding concepts aren’t wild and crazy either, although the naturist couple’s propensity for appearing completely undressed in the film may be a shock to mainstream American moviegoers. That said, this British comedy is almost too polite. Pat jokes about overbearing mothers-in-law, the emotional gay wedding planners, and the ultra-competitive tennis couple are hardly the stuff of hearty laughs or inspired improvisations. The two funniest people in the film—THE OFFICE’S Martin Freeman and SPACED and SHAUN OF THE DEAD’S Jessica Stevenson—comprise the straight couple in comedic terms.
CONFETTI isn’t uproariously funny or all that compelling, but director Debbie Isitt has the good sense to end it on a high note. The ceremony for Matt and Sam (Freeman and Stevenson) is reminiscent of Busby Berkeley’s elaborate song and dance routines and a treat to watch.
Grade: C-
The mock documentary CONFETTI satirizes the wedding industry and the couples who want to do something different for their special day. Confetti magazine sponsors a contest to put on the most creative ceremony. Two of the finalist couples’ themes—tennis and 1930s Hollywood musicals—offer the possibility of delivering stylish events that will look attractive on the cover of the magazine. The naturist couple wants to have a nude wedding, which presents a dilemma for the publication if they win.
CONFETTI is the latest mockumentary to encounter the problem of reality, or reality TV, being more outrageous than the filmmaker’s send-up. With bridezillas raging across the screens of cable television, the relatively well-behaved couples in CONFETTI don’t stand a chance of matching the level of derision that their real-life counterparts encourage.
The wedding concepts aren’t wild and crazy either, although the naturist couple’s propensity for appearing completely undressed in the film may be a shock to mainstream American moviegoers. That said, this British comedy is almost too polite. Pat jokes about overbearing mothers-in-law, the emotional gay wedding planners, and the ultra-competitive tennis couple are hardly the stuff of hearty laughs or inspired improvisations. The two funniest people in the film—THE OFFICE’S Martin Freeman and SPACED and SHAUN OF THE DEAD’S Jessica Stevenson—comprise the straight couple in comedic terms.
CONFETTI isn’t uproariously funny or all that compelling, but director Debbie Isitt has the good sense to end it on a high note. The ceremony for Matt and Sam (Freeman and Stevenson) is reminiscent of Busby Berkeley’s elaborate song and dance routines and a treat to watch.
Grade: C-
Friday, September 22, 2006
Book review posted
As previously mentioned, I wrote a book review that is now online. Literary types can read my thoughts on Douglas Coupland's JPod. He's one of my favorite contemporary authors, which probably explains the excessive referencing of his other books. It was a bit of a challenge to switch modes from films to a novel, but shaking things up every now and then is probably good for the writing muscles.
The review was written for Nights and Weekends.com, so I'm giving that site a temporary "exclusive" for a week or so before reposting it here (with permission, of course). In the meantime, check it out.
The review was written for Nights and Weekends.com, so I'm giving that site a temporary "exclusive" for a week or so before reposting it here (with permission, of course). In the meantime, check it out.
Crank
CRANK (Mark Neveldine and Brian Taylor, 2006)
CRANK hit man Chev Chelios (Jason Statham) is injected with a synthetic Chinese drug that will kill him in an hour unless he can keep his adrenaline pumping at a high level. Faced with limited time to get revenge and reveal his true occupation to his girlfriend Eve (Amy Smart), Chev tears through the city at a breakneck speed by car, motorcycle, and foot.
CRANK works overtime to be a disreputable bit of pulp fiction, and for the first half or so it’s like inhaling the cinematic equivalent of the film’s title. Statham’s anti-hero will do anything to keep his heart pounding, be it doing cocaine off a grimy floor, chugging Red Bulls, snorting one nasal inhaler after another, jabbing himself with multiple doses of epinephrine, burning his hand in a waffle iron, or engaging in vigorous public sex in front of a busload of Japanese tourists. It’s the stuff of nightmares for parental media watch groups, especially because CRANK is playing it for humor.
This devil may care attitude makes CRANK feel like an adrenaline rush, but after an energy burn comes the crash. Mark Neveldine and Brian Taylor’s direction is similarly aggressive. Using all manner of attention-grabbing techniques like Tony Scott, they shoot Statham through a microwave oven door, slap words onto the image to emphasize points, and, in a first, use Google Earth a few times as a transition. There’s a nice section where Statham drives his car through a mall, but the only way we know at first is by looking at the background in the tightly composed close-up.
CRANK is a lot of fun for awhile, but this boisterous, violent take on D.O.A. can’t sustain the manic energy over 87 minutes.
Grade: C
CRANK hit man Chev Chelios (Jason Statham) is injected with a synthetic Chinese drug that will kill him in an hour unless he can keep his adrenaline pumping at a high level. Faced with limited time to get revenge and reveal his true occupation to his girlfriend Eve (Amy Smart), Chev tears through the city at a breakneck speed by car, motorcycle, and foot.
CRANK works overtime to be a disreputable bit of pulp fiction, and for the first half or so it’s like inhaling the cinematic equivalent of the film’s title. Statham’s anti-hero will do anything to keep his heart pounding, be it doing cocaine off a grimy floor, chugging Red Bulls, snorting one nasal inhaler after another, jabbing himself with multiple doses of epinephrine, burning his hand in a waffle iron, or engaging in vigorous public sex in front of a busload of Japanese tourists. It’s the stuff of nightmares for parental media watch groups, especially because CRANK is playing it for humor.
This devil may care attitude makes CRANK feel like an adrenaline rush, but after an energy burn comes the crash. Mark Neveldine and Brian Taylor’s direction is similarly aggressive. Using all manner of attention-grabbing techniques like Tony Scott, they shoot Statham through a microwave oven door, slap words onto the image to emphasize points, and, in a first, use Google Earth a few times as a transition. There’s a nice section where Statham drives his car through a mall, but the only way we know at first is by looking at the background in the tightly composed close-up.
CRANK is a lot of fun for awhile, but this boisterous, violent take on D.O.A. can’t sustain the manic energy over 87 minutes.
Grade: C
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
For real?
Did you miss the televised memorial service for Steve Irwin, a.k.a. The Crocodile Hunter? No worries, if the Sydney Morning Herald has the story right.
I thought it was kind of weird that this was televised in the first place--no, I didn't see it--but I can understand, sort of, why his fans might want to tune in. But selling a DVD? Doesn't this seem at least a little grotesque? And who are these projected millions of people interested in buying it?
It's one thing if sales of THE CROCODILE HUNTER: COLLISION COURSE enjoy an upward spike in the aftermath of his death, but offering Irwin's memorial service for purchase is all kinds of weird celebrity fascination creepy that I simply don't get. Heaven forbid that the DVD include the video of the accidental death, which I thought I read was caught on tape, or a grieving widow commentary track.
Seriously, is there anyone reading this who would purchase a DVD of a celebrity or public figure's memorial service? Is the next breakthrough industry funeral videography?
Steve Irwin's memorial service is expected to be available on a DVD which could possibly sell millions of copies worldwide.Uh, what?!
I thought it was kind of weird that this was televised in the first place--no, I didn't see it--but I can understand, sort of, why his fans might want to tune in. But selling a DVD? Doesn't this seem at least a little grotesque? And who are these projected millions of people interested in buying it?
It's one thing if sales of THE CROCODILE HUNTER: COLLISION COURSE enjoy an upward spike in the aftermath of his death, but offering Irwin's memorial service for purchase is all kinds of weird celebrity fascination creepy that I simply don't get. Heaven forbid that the DVD include the video of the accidental death, which I thought I read was caught on tape, or a grieving widow commentary track.
Seriously, is there anyone reading this who would purchase a DVD of a celebrity or public figure's memorial service? Is the next breakthrough industry funeral videography?
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Film Footwear
I don't get many promo items, but a pretty cool one came in the mail today. Yes, I received a pair of Converse Chuck Taylor: JACKASS edition canvas high tops pictured above.
A couple weeks ago Paramount sent a postcard asking for my chuck size, or Chuck size in this case. I e-mailed it to the appropriate address, and today these size 12 kicks arrived. Like the WAR OF THE WORLDS survival radio-light with a generator crank, this is the rare studio swag that I might actually use.
The shoes are a great way to promote JACKASS: NUMBER TWO, although chances are they're wasting their time with me if the footwear is intended to sway critical opinion. (I don't think that's the purpose, but I'm sure some see it as quid pro quo.)
The first JACKASS film easily earned a spot in my worst of the year for 2002, and unless there are significant differences between that film and the new one--fat chance, I'm guessing--the sequel is likely to follow suit. I haven't seen it yet but will be reviewing it on WROV this Friday around 4:30 p.m. (You can listen live via the internet.)
Then again, the trailer for JACKASS: NUMBER TWO trumpets the bad reviews the previous movie received, so maybe this is a reverse psychology gambit to get critical beatdowns that will be useful in marketing the film as anti-establishment.
Regardless, the shoes won't be influencing my review. These sure beat those candy hearts promoting BE COOL, though.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Personal top 10 of the last ten years
The last post about the OFCS Top 100 Films of the Last 10 Years ventured into the comments. Following up on that, here's a rashly decided personal top 10 from 1996-2005.
1. AFTER LIFE (WANDÂFURU RAIFU) (Hirokazu Kore-eda, 1998)
2. MULHOLLAND DR. (David Lynch, 2001)
3. BEFORE SUNSET (Richard Linklater, 2004)
4. WAKING LIFE (Richard Linklater, 2001)
5. THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS (Wes Anderson, 2001)
6. PUNCH-DRUNK LOVE (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2002)
7. THE TRUMAN SHOW (Peter Weir, 1998)
8. THE SWEET HEREAFTER (Atom Egoyan, 1997)
9. IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE (FA YEUNG NIN WA) (Wong Kar-wai, 2000)
10. GERRY (Gus Van Sant, 2002)
This is very much a list based on mental imagery and emotional brush strokes. I favored the films that have lingered with me the longest. THE ICE STORM, my top film of 1997 at the time, may have a rightful claim to a spot in this best of the best, but I haven't seen it in nine years. Only four of these were "winners" for their respective years: THE TRUMAN SHOW, MULHOLLAND DR., PUNCH-DRUNK LOVE, and GERRY. (Here's where actual US release date and IMDB release dates conflict. GERRY premiered in 2002 but didn't bow domestically until 2003.)
Hirokazu's film knocked me out on first viewing, and its power hasn't dimmed in the intervening years. If there's one film I really would have liked to have seen on the OFCS list, this is it.
1. AFTER LIFE (WANDÂFURU RAIFU) (Hirokazu Kore-eda, 1998)
2. MULHOLLAND DR. (David Lynch, 2001)
3. BEFORE SUNSET (Richard Linklater, 2004)
4. WAKING LIFE (Richard Linklater, 2001)
5. THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS (Wes Anderson, 2001)
6. PUNCH-DRUNK LOVE (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2002)
7. THE TRUMAN SHOW (Peter Weir, 1998)
8. THE SWEET HEREAFTER (Atom Egoyan, 1997)
9. IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE (FA YEUNG NIN WA) (Wong Kar-wai, 2000)
10. GERRY (Gus Van Sant, 2002)
This is very much a list based on mental imagery and emotional brush strokes. I favored the films that have lingered with me the longest. THE ICE STORM, my top film of 1997 at the time, may have a rightful claim to a spot in this best of the best, but I haven't seen it in nine years. Only four of these were "winners" for their respective years: THE TRUMAN SHOW, MULHOLLAND DR., PUNCH-DRUNK LOVE, and GERRY. (Here's where actual US release date and IMDB release dates conflict. GERRY premiered in 2002 but didn't bow domestically until 2003.)
Hirokazu's film knocked me out on first viewing, and its power hasn't dimmed in the intervening years. If there's one film I really would have liked to have seen on the OFCS list, this is it.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
OFCS Top 100 Films of the Last 10 Years
To commemorate its tenth anniversary, the Online Film Critics Society, of which I am a member, surveyed the membership regarding the best films of the last ten years. The results are:
So, first impressions of the list? I don't know that there are many surprises. I wouldn't have figured DOWNFALL would make the cut, let alone place relatively high (#25). While I liked it a lot, I hardly think it's the third best foreign language film of the last ten years, which is how it fits within this list. Lars von Trier fared well as three of his films made the list, including a surprising showing for DOGVILLE (#35).
There aren't any real shockers. I'd wager that all of these films did well in annual polls for their respective years. GROSSE POINTE BLANK at #92 might be the one selection to come out of nowhere. THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT (#96) had heat at the time, but I wonder if people still think of it as well as they did then.
Sure, the list is heavy on English-language films and the prestige pictures, but in putting together a list like this, it's inevitable that one of the overriding factors is going to be the number of people who have seen the films in question. Hirokazu Kore-eda's AFTER LIFE (WANDÂFURU RAIFU) and David Gordon Green's ALL THE REAL GIRLS--if not GEORGE WASHINGTON as well--would make my list, but I suspect that they've not been as widely seen. (The only film on this list that I haven't seen is CHUNGKING EXPRESS, and there's really no good excuse why I haven't.)
Anyway, here's another bunch of ranked films for our list-obsessed culture to argue over. Have at it.
1. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless MindWe were asked to nominate up to twenty films for each year from 1996-2005. Not having kept the best of records, it was a relatively painstaking process, especially when it came to determining years for foreign films whose IMDB release dates are based on first public screening. (If I feel like it, I'll get around to posting my imperfect nomination ballot.) From there the membership was presented with a top 400 and asked to whittle it down to a top 50, with each member ranking their picks. (I confess to going through the arduous weeding process but forgetting to finish in time for the deadline.)
2. Fargo
3. Memento
4. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
5. L.A. Confidential
6. Brokeback Mountain
7. Being John Malkovich
8. City of God
9. Mulholland Drive
10. Lost in Translation
11. Almost Famous
12. Magnolia
13. Election
14. Fight Club
15. In the Mood for Love
16. The Truman Show
17. The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King
18. Moulin Rouge
19. Saving Private Ryan
20. Kill Bill, Volume 1
21. Rushmore
22. Million Dollar Baby
23. A History of Violence
24. Kill Bill, Volume 2
25. Downfall
26. Hero
27. Three Kings
28. O Brother, Where Art Thou?
29. Spirited Away
30. The Iron Giant
31. Boogie Nights
32. The Big Lebowski
33. The Sixth Sense
34. Out of Sight
35. Dogville
36. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
37. Punch-Drunk Love
38. Good Night, and Good Luck.
39. Far from Heaven
40. Waiting for Guffman
41. American Beauty
42. The Matrix
43. Lone Star
44. The Sweet Hereafter
45. Donnie Darko
46. Secrets & Lies
47. The Insider
48. Ghost World
49. Toy Story 2
50. Before Sunset
51. Breaking the Waves
52. The Ice Storm
53. The Constant Gardener
54. Sideways
55. The Incredibles
56. The Royal Tenenbaums
57. The Thin Red Line
58. Chungking Express
59. Eyes Wide Shut
60. The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
61. Finding Nemo
62. Gosford Park
63. The Pianist
64. Grizzly Man
65. Run Lola Run
66. Requiem for a Dream
67. The Celebration
68. Contact
69. Hedwig and the Angry Inch
70. Spider-Man 2
71. Chicago
72. Gods and Monsters
73. Jerry Maguire
74. Wonder Boys
75. American Splendor
76. Dancer in the Dark
77. Adaptation
78. Shakespeare in Love
79. Best in Show
80. Traffic
81. Crash (2005)
82. Titanic
83. The 25th Hour
84. Bowling for Columbine
85. Amores Perros
86. Elephant
87. The Aviator
88. Y Tu Mama Tambien
89. Hotel Rwanda
90. Jackie Brown
91. The Straight Story
92. Grosse Pointe Blank
93. In the Bedroom
94. Life is Beautiful
95. High Fidelity
96. The Blair Witch Project
97. A.I.: Artificial Intelligence
98. Gangs of New York
99. Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter…and Spring
100. Amelie
So, first impressions of the list? I don't know that there are many surprises. I wouldn't have figured DOWNFALL would make the cut, let alone place relatively high (#25). While I liked it a lot, I hardly think it's the third best foreign language film of the last ten years, which is how it fits within this list. Lars von Trier fared well as three of his films made the list, including a surprising showing for DOGVILLE (#35).
There aren't any real shockers. I'd wager that all of these films did well in annual polls for their respective years. GROSSE POINTE BLANK at #92 might be the one selection to come out of nowhere. THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT (#96) had heat at the time, but I wonder if people still think of it as well as they did then.
Sure, the list is heavy on English-language films and the prestige pictures, but in putting together a list like this, it's inevitable that one of the overriding factors is going to be the number of people who have seen the films in question. Hirokazu Kore-eda's AFTER LIFE (WANDÂFURU RAIFU) and David Gordon Green's ALL THE REAL GIRLS--if not GEORGE WASHINGTON as well--would make my list, but I suspect that they've not been as widely seen. (The only film on this list that I haven't seen is CHUNGKING EXPRESS, and there's really no good excuse why I haven't.)
Anyway, here's another bunch of ranked films for our list-obsessed culture to argue over. Have at it.
Monday, September 11, 2006
State of the blog
So things have been a little slow around here the last few months. Chalk it up to a nasty bout of writer's block or apathy. I've amassed a backlog of reviews from the TV show that I'll get to posting over the next week or so.
Call it George Lucas Disease, if you want. I'd been in the habit of writing reviews for NOW PLAYING and then expanding and tweaking them for the blog. It was an admirable idea, but combined with a general feeling of stuckness when it came to writing, it meant that I didn't post them because I needed to polish them more. You see where that got me. The desire to refine what was already "done"--the reviews were on television after all--just meant they rattled around my brain and never emerged from there. Being in my tenth year of reviewing films, seventh online, I suppose it was about time for me to cramp up for a stretch. Having a perfectionist tendency doesn't help.
I feel like the dam has been broken, so hopefully I'll be posting more regularly than has been the case recently. Credit a book review of Douglas Coupland's JPod that I wrote while on vacation. Flexing some slightly different critical muscles must have loosened up the others. I'll post that review here eventually. I wrote it for Nights and Weekends.com and am waiting for it to get published there before reposting it on this blog. (It should appear any day now. I'll post a link when one is available.)
Call it George Lucas Disease, if you want. I'd been in the habit of writing reviews for NOW PLAYING and then expanding and tweaking them for the blog. It was an admirable idea, but combined with a general feeling of stuckness when it came to writing, it meant that I didn't post them because I needed to polish them more. You see where that got me. The desire to refine what was already "done"--the reviews were on television after all--just meant they rattled around my brain and never emerged from there. Being in my tenth year of reviewing films, seventh online, I suppose it was about time for me to cramp up for a stretch. Having a perfectionist tendency doesn't help.
I feel like the dam has been broken, so hopefully I'll be posting more regularly than has been the case recently. Credit a book review of Douglas Coupland's JPod that I wrote while on vacation. Flexing some slightly different critical muscles must have loosened up the others. I'll post that review here eventually. I wrote it for Nights and Weekends.com and am waiting for it to get published there before reposting it on this blog. (It should appear any day now. I'll post a link when one is available.)
Friday, September 08, 2006
Stop making my ears bleed
Nick Hornby's HIGH FIDELITY is one of my favorite books, so I was pleasantly surprised that the film turned out to be as good as it did. (It made my 2000 top 10 list.) In fact, Hornby's track record with book-to-film adaptations has been sterling. OK, the British version of FEVER PITCH pales in comparison to the Farrelly brothers' movie, but the film adaptations have distilled the essence of his novels quite well.
This is a roundabout way of saying that I was relatively horrified to learn via Stereogum that HIGH FIDELITY is being turned into a Broadway musical. Maybe that doesn't sound so bad to you, especially if you're more partial to showtunes than I am. Take a listen to four songs from the show and tell me this isn't all kinds of wrong.
I'm not predisposed to disliking everything that comes from musical theater, but admittedly it's not my favorite thing in the world either. That said, not only are these songs bad, they're anathema to the musical tastes of the characters. Record store clerks wouldn't be caught dead blaring the cast recording unless they're trying to clear the store at the end of the day. If the idea is to make something cool for those in their twenties and thirties, the least the producers could do is to put together a songbook with a little more edge than Broadway's idea of rock.
Having Stephin Merritt write the songs would have given it street credibility with HIGH FIDELITY characters like Rob and Barry while still attending to the leanings of traditional theatergoers. Otherwise it just seems backwards to take a story about serious music fans--snobs, if you will--and decorate it with songs they wouldn't be caught dead listening to. These songs do not rock.
This is a roundabout way of saying that I was relatively horrified to learn via Stereogum that HIGH FIDELITY is being turned into a Broadway musical. Maybe that doesn't sound so bad to you, especially if you're more partial to showtunes than I am. Take a listen to four songs from the show and tell me this isn't all kinds of wrong.
I'm not predisposed to disliking everything that comes from musical theater, but admittedly it's not my favorite thing in the world either. That said, not only are these songs bad, they're anathema to the musical tastes of the characters. Record store clerks wouldn't be caught dead blaring the cast recording unless they're trying to clear the store at the end of the day. If the idea is to make something cool for those in their twenties and thirties, the least the producers could do is to put together a songbook with a little more edge than Broadway's idea of rock.
Having Stephin Merritt write the songs would have given it street credibility with HIGH FIDELITY characters like Rob and Barry while still attending to the leanings of traditional theatergoers. Otherwise it just seems backwards to take a story about serious music fans--snobs, if you will--and decorate it with songs they wouldn't be caught dead listening to. These songs do not rock.
Monday, September 04, 2006
Undermining Idiocracy
BEAVIS AND BUTT-HEAD creator and OFFICE SPACE director Mike Judge had a new film open this past Friday, not that anyone noticed. It wasn’t difficult to overlook. IDIOCRACY, a satire set a thousand years in the future, was unceremoniously dumped in Atlanta, Austin, Chicago, Dallas, Houston, Los Angeles, and Toronto and left to fail per its hush-hush release.
IDIOCRACY first crossed my radar last spring when it appeared on the upcoming release grid e-mailed to critics. At the time it was titled 3001, and if memory serves, it was supposed to open in late summer 2005. As a fan of Judge's previous work, I looked forward to it despite information being pretty limited. Of course, with the sheer number of films opening each week and not a peep in the press about IDIOCRACY, I forgot about it until it turned up on the grid with a September 1, 2006 release date. I never saw a trailer, but a poster playing off of Leonardo da Vinci's Vitruvian man drawing showed up in at least one theater in town.
And then the posters disappeared, it fell off the grid, and it bowed with as little publicity possible for a major studio release. For comparison’s sake, September 1 openers THE WICKER MAN and CRANK were not screened in advance for the press, although industrious, in-the-know critics could gain admittance to 10:00 p.m. Thursday screenings with the proper promises. Still, in my observation both films were promoted in the typical fashion (trailers, posters, and TV advertisements). CROSSOVER, an amateurish streetball pic with limited commercial prospects, had a Wednesday night promo screening in Columbus, too late for the alt-weeklies but plenty in advance for the dailies and websites.
Could IDIOCRACY be that bad? Maybe. Nevertheless, studios release plenty of crummy films, but that doesn’t make them shy about making sure moviegoers know that their products will be at theaters near you this Friday. Even with the valid huffing and puffing about the number of films not screening for critics this year, a good number of stinkers are still shown to the press.
Regardless of IDIOCRACY'S quality, Judge’s name ought to be worth something. OFFICE SPACE was a box office disappointment but found its audience on DVD. Its home video success even spurred Swingline to make a red stapler, a treasured item that previously didn’t exist outside the film’s universe. IDIOCRACY star Luke Wilson may not be a sure-fire box office draw, but this summer’s flat comedy MY SUPER EX-GIRLFRIEND, in which he starred alongside Uma Thurman, still managed to collect $22 million to date in box office receipts. No matter how bad the film might be, a trailer and minimal marketing campaign with Wilson’s face and Judge’s credits should have been able to pull in a few bucks at the nation’s theaters.
As it stands, most of us don’t have a chance to see it, including the residents of New York City. It is extremely rare for a major studio to release a film and not open it in NYC, which begs the question of what is really going on here. New York-based writer Bilge Ebiri is doing all he can to get to the bottom of the story, going so far as to try and coax film industry writers David Poland and Jeffrey Wells to see IDIOCRACY. On his ScreenGrab blog Ebiri points out that the few reviews out there are generally favorable, including Carina Chocano’s positive L.A. Times piece, but press coverage of the film is noticeably absent.
Regardless of if the film is unspeakably bad, a maligned masterpiece, or something in between, kudos to Ebiri for trying to bring the story to light even if he can’t see IDIOCRACY. In this age of frontloaded box office, critical opinion probably doesn’t make more than a superficial dent on the bodies of the blockbusters. Critics can make a difference with small films, and he’s doing what he can to bring IDIOCRACY to our attention. Judge’s film seems destined to film maudit status, but it would be nice if the moviegoing public could actually have a chance to determine whether such a designation is deserved or not.
IDIOCRACY first crossed my radar last spring when it appeared on the upcoming release grid e-mailed to critics. At the time it was titled 3001, and if memory serves, it was supposed to open in late summer 2005. As a fan of Judge's previous work, I looked forward to it despite information being pretty limited. Of course, with the sheer number of films opening each week and not a peep in the press about IDIOCRACY, I forgot about it until it turned up on the grid with a September 1, 2006 release date. I never saw a trailer, but a poster playing off of Leonardo da Vinci's Vitruvian man drawing showed up in at least one theater in town.
And then the posters disappeared, it fell off the grid, and it bowed with as little publicity possible for a major studio release. For comparison’s sake, September 1 openers THE WICKER MAN and CRANK were not screened in advance for the press, although industrious, in-the-know critics could gain admittance to 10:00 p.m. Thursday screenings with the proper promises. Still, in my observation both films were promoted in the typical fashion (trailers, posters, and TV advertisements). CROSSOVER, an amateurish streetball pic with limited commercial prospects, had a Wednesday night promo screening in Columbus, too late for the alt-weeklies but plenty in advance for the dailies and websites.
Could IDIOCRACY be that bad? Maybe. Nevertheless, studios release plenty of crummy films, but that doesn’t make them shy about making sure moviegoers know that their products will be at theaters near you this Friday. Even with the valid huffing and puffing about the number of films not screening for critics this year, a good number of stinkers are still shown to the press.
Regardless of IDIOCRACY'S quality, Judge’s name ought to be worth something. OFFICE SPACE was a box office disappointment but found its audience on DVD. Its home video success even spurred Swingline to make a red stapler, a treasured item that previously didn’t exist outside the film’s universe. IDIOCRACY star Luke Wilson may not be a sure-fire box office draw, but this summer’s flat comedy MY SUPER EX-GIRLFRIEND, in which he starred alongside Uma Thurman, still managed to collect $22 million to date in box office receipts. No matter how bad the film might be, a trailer and minimal marketing campaign with Wilson’s face and Judge’s credits should have been able to pull in a few bucks at the nation’s theaters.
As it stands, most of us don’t have a chance to see it, including the residents of New York City. It is extremely rare for a major studio to release a film and not open it in NYC, which begs the question of what is really going on here. New York-based writer Bilge Ebiri is doing all he can to get to the bottom of the story, going so far as to try and coax film industry writers David Poland and Jeffrey Wells to see IDIOCRACY. On his ScreenGrab blog Ebiri points out that the few reviews out there are generally favorable, including Carina Chocano’s positive L.A. Times piece, but press coverage of the film is noticeably absent.
Regardless of if the film is unspeakably bad, a maligned masterpiece, or something in between, kudos to Ebiri for trying to bring the story to light even if he can’t see IDIOCRACY. In this age of frontloaded box office, critical opinion probably doesn’t make more than a superficial dent on the bodies of the blockbusters. Critics can make a difference with small films, and he’s doing what he can to bring IDIOCRACY to our attention. Judge’s film seems destined to film maudit status, but it would be nice if the moviegoing public could actually have a chance to determine whether such a designation is deserved or not.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Snakes at the box office
It appears that SNAKES ON A PLANE topped the weekend box office race, although the final tally is probably lower than what fans and industry watchers were expecting. The film should still prove to be a financial success even if it's not as big of a money maker that all of the internet fervor indicated it might be. Honestly, modest returns will probably help the film become the cult movie it was destined to be.
About half of the film's business came from the late Thursday night and Friday screenings, which isn't a surprise. The hardcore fans turned out immediately and sought reviews on opening day. My site traffic saw an incredible spike on Friday, approximately nine times more than I usually get. (By my count I was the eleventh person on Rotten Tomatoes to post a review link, which went a long way toward snagging readers.) Traffic returned to normal levels Saturday and Sunday, which tells me that interest in the film didn't extend much beyond the core group.
I imagine that SNAKES will take a hard tumble at the box office in subsequent weeks. With everything oriented on opening weekend, that's the fate for most films, although SNAKES may prove to be particularly vulnerable since the majority of its audience probably have seen it. Still, smart theater operators ought to hang onto it for awhile for late night screenings. It's really the only time to see the movie.
About half of the film's business came from the late Thursday night and Friday screenings, which isn't a surprise. The hardcore fans turned out immediately and sought reviews on opening day. My site traffic saw an incredible spike on Friday, approximately nine times more than I usually get. (By my count I was the eleventh person on Rotten Tomatoes to post a review link, which went a long way toward snagging readers.) Traffic returned to normal levels Saturday and Sunday, which tells me that interest in the film didn't extend much beyond the core group.
I imagine that SNAKES will take a hard tumble at the box office in subsequent weeks. With everything oriented on opening weekend, that's the fate for most films, although SNAKES may prove to be particularly vulnerable since the majority of its audience probably have seen it. Still, smart theater operators ought to hang onto it for awhile for late night screenings. It's really the only time to see the movie.
Friday, August 18, 2006
Snakes on a Plane
SNAKES ON A PLANE (David R. Ellis, 2006)
The act of moviegoing, of seeing a film with an audience, has taken its share of knocks in recent years. Ringing cell phones, talkative patrons, and endless pre-film advertisements are common reasons why some claim not to bother with heading to the local multiplex to see the latest Hollywood releases. Better and more affordable home theater systems and a shrunken theatrical-to-home video window have led to some deciding that waiting for the DVD is good enough.
Leave it to SNAKES ON A PLANE, a modestly budgeted action movie about air passengers being attacked by serpents, to provide a shot in the arm for the theatrical experience. Here’s a film that isn’t ruined because people are whooping it up and talking back to the screen but enhanced by their enthusiastic dialogue with it. SNAKES ON A PLANE may not be a good movie by conventional standards, but with the proper amount of love via audience participation, this genre picture is exactly the sort of silly fun that mega-priced, B-grade tentpole films often fail to be.
The film’s interactive element is in its DNA. That great title, four words that tell potential ticket buyers everything they could want or need to know about the movie, caught the attention of the internet community early on. Fans made blogs, t-shirts, and songs about the film even though much wasn’t known about it beyond the title and its star, Samuel L. Jackson. When rumors popped up that the title was being changed to the terminally dull PACIFIC AIR FLIGHT 121, the online outcry against the supposed switch probably ensured that SNAKES ON A PLANE would stick. Why not give the customers what they want? What they wanted was SNAKES ON A PLANE.
The studio took things a step further by incorporating a line for the fans. Jackson’s emphatic exclamation of his character’s dissatisfaction with the high-flying snakes has been well-publicized and will certainly be the loudest moment when the crowd roars its approval. In spite of all of the names in the credits, SNAKES ON A PLANE long ago ceased to belong to the filmmakers when obsessed fans accepted it site unseen as their own.
The story of SNAKES ON A PLANE is practically secondary as long as it delivers mile-high serpent on human action, but if you must know… As FBI Agent Flynn, Jackson escorts Sean (Nathan Phillips), a vital but reluctant witness for the prosecution, from Honolulu to Los Angeles so he can testify against murderous mobster Eddie Kim (Byron Lawson). Kim is unable to get to Sean via the usual methods, so he turns to a plan the feds are unlikely to have anticipated. Snakes from all over the world and of every color and size are secretly put on board the red eye South Pacific Airlines flight. The leis in the cargo hold are sprayed with pheromones that make the snakes aggressive. Two hours into the five hour trip the snakes are released to wreak maximum havoc.
SNAKES ON A PLANE has been put together in a manner befitting its schlock cinema roots. The characters—the badass cop, the flight attendant on her last shift, the spoiled blonde, the nervous boys flying alone, the uptight elitist—are all one-note because snakes don’t care about the backstories of their dinners. The camera placement, screenplay, and dialogue, save for a few quotable bits, are functional more than anything. Director David R. Ellis has demonstrated skill with setpieces in FINAL DESTINATION 2 and CELLULAR, the latter of which was a higher quality B-movie than SNAKES, but he isn’t called upon to do much here beyond showing snakes attack.
Whether it is was intended to be a comedy or it morphed into that when the internet buzz began, the choice to play SNAKES ON A PLANE sincerely but for laughs is its saving grace. It’s funny because it’s gloriously stupid and doesn’t nudge the audience’s ribs to make sure the joke is being understood. Such prompting is unnecessary for a group that was in on the joke before they saw a frame of the film.
There aren’t many actors who could have pulled off the SNAKES trifecta of being stone serious, tongue in cheek, and supremely cool as Jackson. He seems to be having as much fun making the movie as the viewers are watching it. This won’t be remembered as one of his great performances—the material he’s working with simply isn’t good enough—but it helps solidify his status as a symbol of movie cool now and for years to come after he’s retired.
The midnight movie has gone by the wayside, but SNAKES begs to be seen late at night with a rambunctious crowd. What better time is there to encourage audience participation? SNAKES ON A PLANE lifts off when strangers and friends come together to hiss in giddy expectation and in approval. It isn’t great filmmaking, but it is a great experience. Why shouldn’t there be enough room among the moviegoing choices out there for something as dumb and enjoyable as SNAKES ON A PLANE?
Grade: B-
The act of moviegoing, of seeing a film with an audience, has taken its share of knocks in recent years. Ringing cell phones, talkative patrons, and endless pre-film advertisements are common reasons why some claim not to bother with heading to the local multiplex to see the latest Hollywood releases. Better and more affordable home theater systems and a shrunken theatrical-to-home video window have led to some deciding that waiting for the DVD is good enough.
Leave it to SNAKES ON A PLANE, a modestly budgeted action movie about air passengers being attacked by serpents, to provide a shot in the arm for the theatrical experience. Here’s a film that isn’t ruined because people are whooping it up and talking back to the screen but enhanced by their enthusiastic dialogue with it. SNAKES ON A PLANE may not be a good movie by conventional standards, but with the proper amount of love via audience participation, this genre picture is exactly the sort of silly fun that mega-priced, B-grade tentpole films often fail to be.
The film’s interactive element is in its DNA. That great title, four words that tell potential ticket buyers everything they could want or need to know about the movie, caught the attention of the internet community early on. Fans made blogs, t-shirts, and songs about the film even though much wasn’t known about it beyond the title and its star, Samuel L. Jackson. When rumors popped up that the title was being changed to the terminally dull PACIFIC AIR FLIGHT 121, the online outcry against the supposed switch probably ensured that SNAKES ON A PLANE would stick. Why not give the customers what they want? What they wanted was SNAKES ON A PLANE.
The studio took things a step further by incorporating a line for the fans. Jackson’s emphatic exclamation of his character’s dissatisfaction with the high-flying snakes has been well-publicized and will certainly be the loudest moment when the crowd roars its approval. In spite of all of the names in the credits, SNAKES ON A PLANE long ago ceased to belong to the filmmakers when obsessed fans accepted it site unseen as their own.
The story of SNAKES ON A PLANE is practically secondary as long as it delivers mile-high serpent on human action, but if you must know… As FBI Agent Flynn, Jackson escorts Sean (Nathan Phillips), a vital but reluctant witness for the prosecution, from Honolulu to Los Angeles so he can testify against murderous mobster Eddie Kim (Byron Lawson). Kim is unable to get to Sean via the usual methods, so he turns to a plan the feds are unlikely to have anticipated. Snakes from all over the world and of every color and size are secretly put on board the red eye South Pacific Airlines flight. The leis in the cargo hold are sprayed with pheromones that make the snakes aggressive. Two hours into the five hour trip the snakes are released to wreak maximum havoc.
SNAKES ON A PLANE has been put together in a manner befitting its schlock cinema roots. The characters—the badass cop, the flight attendant on her last shift, the spoiled blonde, the nervous boys flying alone, the uptight elitist—are all one-note because snakes don’t care about the backstories of their dinners. The camera placement, screenplay, and dialogue, save for a few quotable bits, are functional more than anything. Director David R. Ellis has demonstrated skill with setpieces in FINAL DESTINATION 2 and CELLULAR, the latter of which was a higher quality B-movie than SNAKES, but he isn’t called upon to do much here beyond showing snakes attack.
Whether it is was intended to be a comedy or it morphed into that when the internet buzz began, the choice to play SNAKES ON A PLANE sincerely but for laughs is its saving grace. It’s funny because it’s gloriously stupid and doesn’t nudge the audience’s ribs to make sure the joke is being understood. Such prompting is unnecessary for a group that was in on the joke before they saw a frame of the film.
There aren’t many actors who could have pulled off the SNAKES trifecta of being stone serious, tongue in cheek, and supremely cool as Jackson. He seems to be having as much fun making the movie as the viewers are watching it. This won’t be remembered as one of his great performances—the material he’s working with simply isn’t good enough—but it helps solidify his status as a symbol of movie cool now and for years to come after he’s retired.
The midnight movie has gone by the wayside, but SNAKES begs to be seen late at night with a rambunctious crowd. What better time is there to encourage audience participation? SNAKES ON A PLANE lifts off when strangers and friends come together to hiss in giddy expectation and in approval. It isn’t great filmmaking, but it is a great experience. Why shouldn’t there be enough room among the moviegoing choices out there for something as dumb and enjoyable as SNAKES ON A PLANE?
Grade: B-
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Snakes on the brain
So the blogging and posting of TV reviews has been slow on my part for the last month or two. I'm taking some vacation time next week, so hopefully that'll let me get back on track here.
Meanwhile, the big news is that after months of speculation, anticipation, and more internet buzz than you can shake a stick at, SNAKES ON A PLANE will finally be seen tonight. I'm not thrilled that New Line didn't screen it for the press, although tonight's 10 p.m. show will be a de facto media showing since a bunch of critics are meeting for dinner and drinks and then going to the film. OK, so I'd rather not have dropped $9.50--thanks for the extra dollar online fee for non-Movie Watcher club card holders, AMC--but this is a rare case in which I'd rather see the film with what is sure to be a rowdy crowd of ticket buyers than with my peers or contest winners.
The media SNAKES frenzy peaked a couple months ago, but this first screening ought to bring out the hardcore enthusiasts. Whether the film stinks or not, the moviegoing experience should be a blast. Unless New Line mounted the most brilliant viral marketing campaign ever, the SNAKES ON A PLANE phenomenon has come entirely at the grassroots level. It's pretty stunning when you consider that it isn't a franchise film with beloved characters but a trashy genre pic. I hope to love every minute of it.
Assuming SNAKES is a success--at its production costs and the amount of people who want to see it, how can it not be?--is it too much to ask that we not get a bunch of studio imitators? I don't mean the quickie direct-to-video rip-offs like the already available SNAKES ON A TRAIN but the inevitable copycat films from other genre divisions. The key aspects for this particular film are Samuel L. Jackson and self-generated fan enthusiasm. The latter is probably due in part to the former. Jackson is still one of the coolest guys on screen, which should help his films and his reputation age well in years to come. Still, even with Jackson, SNAKES mania on the internet has reached a level that a marketing department is not capable of producing. Enjoy the unexpected financial awards this film will likely deliver and let it be.
At the minimum I'll post some reactions, if not a review, of SNAKES ON A PLANE late tonight. Plenty of other critics will probably be doing the same thing. Let's hope it's because we're thrilled with what we've seen.
Meanwhile, the big news is that after months of speculation, anticipation, and more internet buzz than you can shake a stick at, SNAKES ON A PLANE will finally be seen tonight. I'm not thrilled that New Line didn't screen it for the press, although tonight's 10 p.m. show will be a de facto media showing since a bunch of critics are meeting for dinner and drinks and then going to the film. OK, so I'd rather not have dropped $9.50--thanks for the extra dollar online fee for non-Movie Watcher club card holders, AMC--but this is a rare case in which I'd rather see the film with what is sure to be a rowdy crowd of ticket buyers than with my peers or contest winners.
The media SNAKES frenzy peaked a couple months ago, but this first screening ought to bring out the hardcore enthusiasts. Whether the film stinks or not, the moviegoing experience should be a blast. Unless New Line mounted the most brilliant viral marketing campaign ever, the SNAKES ON A PLANE phenomenon has come entirely at the grassroots level. It's pretty stunning when you consider that it isn't a franchise film with beloved characters but a trashy genre pic. I hope to love every minute of it.
Assuming SNAKES is a success--at its production costs and the amount of people who want to see it, how can it not be?--is it too much to ask that we not get a bunch of studio imitators? I don't mean the quickie direct-to-video rip-offs like the already available SNAKES ON A TRAIN but the inevitable copycat films from other genre divisions. The key aspects for this particular film are Samuel L. Jackson and self-generated fan enthusiasm. The latter is probably due in part to the former. Jackson is still one of the coolest guys on screen, which should help his films and his reputation age well in years to come. Still, even with Jackson, SNAKES mania on the internet has reached a level that a marketing department is not capable of producing. Enjoy the unexpected financial awards this film will likely deliver and let it be.
At the minimum I'll post some reactions, if not a review, of SNAKES ON A PLANE late tonight. Plenty of other critics will probably be doing the same thing. Let's hope it's because we're thrilled with what we've seen.
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