I've been posting my year-end lists over on Livejournal and there's a handy dandy link on one of the sidebars.
Here's the quickie version of my top 25 films of 2008. You can read a more detailed version on my LJ blog.
1. The Dark Knight (Dir. Christopher Nolan)
2. Iron Man (Dir. Jon Favreau)
3. Wall-E (Dir. Andrew Stanton)
4. Let the Right One In (Dir. Tomas Alfredson)
5. The Wrestler (Dir. Darren Aronofsky)
6. Gran Torino (Dir. Clint Eastwood)
7. Wendy and Lucy (Dir. Kelly Reichardt)
8. Milk (Dir. Gus Van Sant)
9. Slumdog Millionaire (Dir. Danny Boyle)
10. In Bruges (Dir. Martin McDonagh)
11. Hunger (Dir. Steve McQueen)
12. Tropic Thunder (Dir. Ben Stiller)
13. The Visitor (Dir. Thomas McCarthy)
14. Shotgun Stories (Dir. Jeff Nichols)
15. Waltz with Bashir (Dir. Ari Folman)
16. Frozen River (Dir. Courtney Hunt)
17. Happy-Go-Lucky (Dir. Mike Leigh)
18. My Winnipeg (Dir. Guy Maddin)
19. Synecdoche, New York (Dir. Charlie Kaufman)
20. Frost/Nixon (Dir. Ron Howard)
21. Doubt (Dir. John Patrick Shanley)
22. Man on Wire (Dir. James Marsh)
23. Changeling (Dir. Clint Eastwood)
24. Chop Shop (Dir. Ramin Bahrani)
25. Forgetting Sarah Marshall (Dir. Nicholas Stoller)
Friday, January 30, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Taken
Taken - Dir. Pierre Morel (2008)
” I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want. If you are looking for ransom, I can tell you I don't have money. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you let my daughter go now, that'll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don't, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you.”
If Liam Neeson says he’ll find you and kill you, you’d best believe it. Here, he plays Bryan Mills an ex-government operative though it’s never revealed exactly what he did. Mills is now divorced, his ex-wife, Lenore (Famke Janssen), has since remarried a much wealthier man. Lenore and daughter, Kim (Maggie Grace), convince overprotective dad to allow her to take a summer trip to Paris with a friend. Mills reluctantly agrees with the caveat that she calls him everyday and keeps him constantly updated. Mom blasts her former hubby about smothering their precious little girl. Of course, dad’s worries are proven correct when Kim is abducted by human traffickers. As you can tell from the above quote, dad doesn’t take this lying down.
Taken comes from Luc Besson, director of La Femme Nikita, The Professional, and The Fifth Element. Besson has spent the last several years as a writer/producer on action flicks like the Transporter series. With Taken, he re-teams with Transporter co-writer, Robert Mark Kamen and director Pierre Morel who helmed another Besson project, District B-13. If you’ve seen any of those pictures, then you’ve got a good idea of what to expect from Taken with a light influence from the Bourne franchise. In fact, you could easily see Neeson’s Bryan Mills as what might have happened to an older Jason Bourne. Mills gets into plenty of shootouts, fist fights, and car chases throughout Europe while using a little ingenuity to get out of tough scrapes. He’s a stone cold, hardass too. When interrogating one bad guy, Mills doesn’t shoot him to get answers; he shoots the guy’s wife.
Taken is a rather predictable and clichéd affair, but it’s a fun action film. If the idea of Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn dispatching criminals right and left appeals to you, then you’ll probably be taken by Taken.
Rating: ***
” I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want. If you are looking for ransom, I can tell you I don't have money. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you let my daughter go now, that'll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don't, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you.”
If Liam Neeson says he’ll find you and kill you, you’d best believe it. Here, he plays Bryan Mills an ex-government operative though it’s never revealed exactly what he did. Mills is now divorced, his ex-wife, Lenore (Famke Janssen), has since remarried a much wealthier man. Lenore and daughter, Kim (Maggie Grace), convince overprotective dad to allow her to take a summer trip to Paris with a friend. Mills reluctantly agrees with the caveat that she calls him everyday and keeps him constantly updated. Mom blasts her former hubby about smothering their precious little girl. Of course, dad’s worries are proven correct when Kim is abducted by human traffickers. As you can tell from the above quote, dad doesn’t take this lying down.
Taken comes from Luc Besson, director of La Femme Nikita, The Professional, and The Fifth Element. Besson has spent the last several years as a writer/producer on action flicks like the Transporter series. With Taken, he re-teams with Transporter co-writer, Robert Mark Kamen and director Pierre Morel who helmed another Besson project, District B-13. If you’ve seen any of those pictures, then you’ve got a good idea of what to expect from Taken with a light influence from the Bourne franchise. In fact, you could easily see Neeson’s Bryan Mills as what might have happened to an older Jason Bourne. Mills gets into plenty of shootouts, fist fights, and car chases throughout Europe while using a little ingenuity to get out of tough scrapes. He’s a stone cold, hardass too. When interrogating one bad guy, Mills doesn’t shoot him to get answers; he shoots the guy’s wife.
Taken is a rather predictable and clichéd affair, but it’s a fun action film. If the idea of Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn dispatching criminals right and left appeals to you, then you’ll probably be taken by Taken.
Rating: ***
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Iron Man
Iron Man - Dir. Jon Favreau (2008)
Iron Man is the first film produced under the Marvel Studios banner, allowing the comic book company to churn their live-action adaptations in house while giving them tighter creative control. If this spectacularly fun effort is any indication, Marvel made the right decision. The last few Marvel films were the hugely disappointing Spider-Man 3, the mess that was X-Men: The Last Stand, and the, to be blunt, completely retarded Ghost Rider and Fantastic Four (both of them). But, finally, finally, finally, Marvel zombies have a film they don’t have to be ashamed about.
It’s been a long, hard road to the big screen for Tony Stark. Noted comic book fan Nicolas Cage and noted kook Tom Cruise were both in serious running to play the character. Neither choice panned out nor did Nick Cassavetes who was attached to direct from a script by Smallville creators Alfred Gough and Miles Millar. This was definitely a fine example of, “Everything happens for a reason.” Jon Favreau hopped on board as director and fought for Robert Downey Jr. as his star, despite both men’s lack of experience in big-budget blockbusters. Shock of all shocks, Favreau made the decision to put characters and story first while remaining faithful to the original source material. I know, crazy idea, don’t know if it’ll catch on. The only real deviations from the comic are the updated locale change of Iron Man's origins from Vietnam to Afghanistan and the change of Stark's butler, Jarvis, into an advanced AI system voiced by an uncredited Paul Bettany.
In the most surprising move, Favreau cited Robert Altman as an influence in his process of filmmaking. Who would have thought I'd be saying Robert Altman and superhero movie in the same sentence? Five different screenwriters may have had a hand in the script, but much of the dialogue comes from improvisation from the A-list cast. Owing much to Favreau's experience on Swingers and Made. They don't treat the origin story as something that's forced upon. That they have to tell it before the real action starts. It isn't the overly long, slightly clunky preamble from Batman Begins.
Downey absolutely inhabits the character. He IS Tony Stark. Downey definitely taps into his past as a good-time boy to perform as the hard partying billionaire. His genius industrialist is more Richard Branson than Bill Gates. Unlike other superheroes, Tony Stark never wallows in a sea of forced angst. There's just the right mix of drama, conflict, and humor. Dude has a stripper pole built into his private plane, for Odin's sake. And whoever thought Tony should listen to Suicidal Tendencies? Kudos to you, sir. They've also done a splendid job in setting up Tony's eventual fall from grace as everybody involved have all but confirmed that the inevitable sequel would be based on the "Demon in the Bottle" storyline.
Some purists might complain that Tony Stark was never this much of a smart aleck, but Tony Stark was never this interesting. Downey is just on and everybody else in the film is attempting to play catch up. I'm not that big a fan of Gwyneth Paltrow, but she's the liviest and hottest she's ever been with her Howard Hawks-esque interplay with Downey. Terrence Howard didn't have much to do, so we'll have to wait for the sequel for him to get a meatier role.
Jeff Bridges is just fuckin' on as Obadiah Stane. Who better to be a thorn in the Golden Avenger's side than an evil Big Lebowski? It's a credit to him and Downey when they can make a minor bit involving a pizza box one of the film's more enjoyable scenes. I kept waiting for the Iron Monger to run screaming into the night, "He peed on my rug!"
Favreau isn't quite the most stylish in the visual department. The final battle between the iron warriors was slightly disappointing. Still, the CGI is great (with only one or two iffy shots) and the practical armors designed by Stan Winston are incredible. Adding frosting tot the cake, the filmmakers throw a few bones for the fanboys such as the foreshadowing of Rhodey becoming War Machine ("Next time, baby"), the introduction of S.H.I.E.L.D., a Mandarin reference (The Ten Rings), Stan Lee's best cameo ever, and the theme from the 1960's Iron Man cartoon as Rhodey's ringtone. Hell, even the ending credits are awesome.
If I have any tiny nits to pick, it is the rather generic score, which was passable if not unremarkable. Also, as great as Jeff Bridges was, I thought the villain was a bit weak. That may be a problem for the sequels as Iron Man has a decent rogues gallery, but none of them are particularly cinematic, save for archnemesis, The Mandarin.
I was expecting Iron Man to be a great flick, but I had no idea it would whoop this much ass and be one of the best comic films ever. Taken on the surface, Iron Man is pure, undiluted, unadulterated, popcorn entertainment. The script may not be the most innovative, but it's strong and elevated by great performances across the board. It's the rare action film that wins at both the critical and financial fronts. Lately, a lot of these big-budget spectacles have run 2 1/2-3 hours and most of the time, the films drag and feel arbitrarily stretched out. Iron Man runs just over 2 hours and I wouldn't have minded one bit if they tacked on an extra 15-20 minutes.
Rating: ****
Iron Man is the first film produced under the Marvel Studios banner, allowing the comic book company to churn their live-action adaptations in house while giving them tighter creative control. If this spectacularly fun effort is any indication, Marvel made the right decision. The last few Marvel films were the hugely disappointing Spider-Man 3, the mess that was X-Men: The Last Stand, and the, to be blunt, completely retarded Ghost Rider and Fantastic Four (both of them). But, finally, finally, finally, Marvel zombies have a film they don’t have to be ashamed about.
It’s been a long, hard road to the big screen for Tony Stark. Noted comic book fan Nicolas Cage and noted kook Tom Cruise were both in serious running to play the character. Neither choice panned out nor did Nick Cassavetes who was attached to direct from a script by Smallville creators Alfred Gough and Miles Millar. This was definitely a fine example of, “Everything happens for a reason.” Jon Favreau hopped on board as director and fought for Robert Downey Jr. as his star, despite both men’s lack of experience in big-budget blockbusters. Shock of all shocks, Favreau made the decision to put characters and story first while remaining faithful to the original source material. I know, crazy idea, don’t know if it’ll catch on. The only real deviations from the comic are the updated locale change of Iron Man's origins from Vietnam to Afghanistan and the change of Stark's butler, Jarvis, into an advanced AI system voiced by an uncredited Paul Bettany.
In the most surprising move, Favreau cited Robert Altman as an influence in his process of filmmaking. Who would have thought I'd be saying Robert Altman and superhero movie in the same sentence? Five different screenwriters may have had a hand in the script, but much of the dialogue comes from improvisation from the A-list cast. Owing much to Favreau's experience on Swingers and Made. They don't treat the origin story as something that's forced upon. That they have to tell it before the real action starts. It isn't the overly long, slightly clunky preamble from Batman Begins.
Downey absolutely inhabits the character. He IS Tony Stark. Downey definitely taps into his past as a good-time boy to perform as the hard partying billionaire. His genius industrialist is more Richard Branson than Bill Gates. Unlike other superheroes, Tony Stark never wallows in a sea of forced angst. There's just the right mix of drama, conflict, and humor. Dude has a stripper pole built into his private plane, for Odin's sake. And whoever thought Tony should listen to Suicidal Tendencies? Kudos to you, sir. They've also done a splendid job in setting up Tony's eventual fall from grace as everybody involved have all but confirmed that the inevitable sequel would be based on the "Demon in the Bottle" storyline.
Some purists might complain that Tony Stark was never this much of a smart aleck, but Tony Stark was never this interesting. Downey is just on and everybody else in the film is attempting to play catch up. I'm not that big a fan of Gwyneth Paltrow, but she's the liviest and hottest she's ever been with her Howard Hawks-esque interplay with Downey. Terrence Howard didn't have much to do, so we'll have to wait for the sequel for him to get a meatier role.
Jeff Bridges is just fuckin' on as Obadiah Stane. Who better to be a thorn in the Golden Avenger's side than an evil Big Lebowski? It's a credit to him and Downey when they can make a minor bit involving a pizza box one of the film's more enjoyable scenes. I kept waiting for the Iron Monger to run screaming into the night, "He peed on my rug!"
Favreau isn't quite the most stylish in the visual department. The final battle between the iron warriors was slightly disappointing. Still, the CGI is great (with only one or two iffy shots) and the practical armors designed by Stan Winston are incredible. Adding frosting tot the cake, the filmmakers throw a few bones for the fanboys such as the foreshadowing of Rhodey becoming War Machine ("Next time, baby"), the introduction of S.H.I.E.L.D., a Mandarin reference (The Ten Rings), Stan Lee's best cameo ever, and the theme from the 1960's Iron Man cartoon as Rhodey's ringtone. Hell, even the ending credits are awesome.
If I have any tiny nits to pick, it is the rather generic score, which was passable if not unremarkable. Also, as great as Jeff Bridges was, I thought the villain was a bit weak. That may be a problem for the sequels as Iron Man has a decent rogues gallery, but none of them are particularly cinematic, save for archnemesis, The Mandarin.
I was expecting Iron Man to be a great flick, but I had no idea it would whoop this much ass and be one of the best comic films ever. Taken on the surface, Iron Man is pure, undiluted, unadulterated, popcorn entertainment. The script may not be the most innovative, but it's strong and elevated by great performances across the board. It's the rare action film that wins at both the critical and financial fronts. Lately, a lot of these big-budget spectacles have run 2 1/2-3 hours and most of the time, the films drag and feel arbitrarily stretched out. Iron Man runs just over 2 hours and I wouldn't have minded one bit if they tacked on an extra 15-20 minutes.
Rating: ****
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Pride and Glory
Pride and Glory - Dir. Gavin O'Connor (2008)
I’d be really happy if I never had to see another corrupt cop movie playing at the ol’ multiplex. Pride and Glory had a long road before it hit theaters having originally been developed back in the 2000. After passing through several hands, the film finally went into production in 2006 and took another two years before being released. I suppose it was fresh in its early stages, but after a deluge of similar films (The Departed, We Own the Night, Street Kings) and seven years of The Shield the script is beyond stale and tiresome.
Pride and Glory focuses on a family of NYPD cops battling corruption within the department and itself. All the genre archetypes are here. There’s Ed Norton as Ray, the down-and-out cop burdened by a heartbreaking divorce and a shooting scandal. Colin Farrell is his brother-in-law, Jimmy, who has turned his unit into a drug dealing hit squad. He’s a family man, but not above threatening to burn a baby with an iron. We also have the brother caught in the middle and their father, played by Jon Voight because when you need gravitas, get Jon Voight.
The cast does its best to elevate the clichéd material they were forced to work with. After giving a career-best performance in In Bruges, Farrell takes several steps back with a boring tough guy routine highlighted by an amalgamated Boston/New Yorker accent.
Don’t expect any sort of subtlety or suspense. You see everything coming a mile away. The film even throws in a cancer stricken wife to tug at your heart strings. It just comes off as a pathetic attempt to ring out some emotionality from what is an ultimately hollow experience.
Rating: * ½
I’d be really happy if I never had to see another corrupt cop movie playing at the ol’ multiplex. Pride and Glory had a long road before it hit theaters having originally been developed back in the 2000. After passing through several hands, the film finally went into production in 2006 and took another two years before being released. I suppose it was fresh in its early stages, but after a deluge of similar films (The Departed, We Own the Night, Street Kings) and seven years of The Shield the script is beyond stale and tiresome.
Pride and Glory focuses on a family of NYPD cops battling corruption within the department and itself. All the genre archetypes are here. There’s Ed Norton as Ray, the down-and-out cop burdened by a heartbreaking divorce and a shooting scandal. Colin Farrell is his brother-in-law, Jimmy, who has turned his unit into a drug dealing hit squad. He’s a family man, but not above threatening to burn a baby with an iron. We also have the brother caught in the middle and their father, played by Jon Voight because when you need gravitas, get Jon Voight.
The cast does its best to elevate the clichéd material they were forced to work with. After giving a career-best performance in In Bruges, Farrell takes several steps back with a boring tough guy routine highlighted by an amalgamated Boston/New Yorker accent.
Don’t expect any sort of subtlety or suspense. You see everything coming a mile away. The film even throws in a cancer stricken wife to tug at your heart strings. It just comes off as a pathetic attempt to ring out some emotionality from what is an ultimately hollow experience.
Rating: * ½
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Oscar Nominations
Normally, I'd post this over on Livejournal, but I'm in the midst of my annual year-end lists so I don't want to mess up the rhythm. The nominations were just announced this morning and, boy, do I have several bones to pick...
Best Picture
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Frost/Nixon
Milk
The Reader
Slumdog Millionaire
No real surprises here other than The Reader. All the other nominees were pretty much a lock going into awards season with Slumdog being the indie darling and Milk being the politically charged selection. I didn’t expect The Dark Knight to get a nod, but I figured that final slot would have gone to The Wrestler or either one of Clint Eastwood’s films. I figured if either of Kate Winslet’s pictures would have gotten a Best Picture nom it would have been Revolutionary Road since that’s the exact kind of film the Academy loves (see Little Children, American Beauty). Benjamin Button is another film that has a good chance of netting the gold statuette, an epic love story with actors hidden behind layers of make-up and playing varying ages. A clear cut winner is tough to call. Personally, I think Milk is the best film out of the bunch, but I could see either Benjamin Button or Slumdog walking away with the statuette.
Who Should Win: Milk
Who Will Win: Benjamin Button or Slumdog Millionaire
Best Actor
Richard Jenkins (The Visitor)
Frank Langella (Frost/Nixon)
Sean Penn (Milk)
Brad Pitt (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button)
Mickey Rourke (The Wrestler)
Again, no surprises here as the Academy plays it safe once more. Brad Pitt and Sean Penn are your usual suspects, Mickey is your comeback kid, and Langella is your biopic actor. Jenkins sneaks in as this year’s lesser-known nomination. He’s a long shot, but I wouldn’t be too surprised if he won some sympathy votes against his more famous competition. I’m surprised that Clint Eastwood didn’t get a nomination for Gran Torino, mostly because he IS Clint Eastwood. No love for Colin Farell either.
If the Golden Globes are a good indication of where the votes will fall, then Mickey Rourke could be a shoe-in. For the last three years, the Best Actor winners (in the drama category) for the Golden Globes went on to collect the Oscar as well. Also, The Wrestler isn’t nominated for any other categories aside from Best Supporting Actress for Marisa Tomei. This is his award to win with Sean Penn a close second and Frank Langella coming in third.
Who Should Win: Mickey Rourke
Who Will Win: Mickey Rourke
Best Actress:
Anne Hathaway (Rachel Getting Married)
Angelina Jolie (Changeling)
Melissa Leo (Frozen River)
Meryl Streep (Doubt)
Kate Winslet (The Reader)
Kate’s got a lot of momentum going in due to her double victory at the Golden Globes so she’s the odds-on favorite. Her chances also increase because I don’t see The Reader winning in any other category. Much like last year, we have two newcomers against more established actresses with multiple nominations or wins. Personally, my pick is Melissa Leo and since Marion Cotillard pulled in the upset last year, she’s not such a long shot. I am disappointed that neither Sally Hawkins (who snagged a Golden Globe) nor Michelle Williams are present. They were two great performances in a pair of films that deserve more notoriety.
Who Should Win: Melissa Leo
Who Will Win: Melissa Leo
Best Supporting Actor
Josh Brolin (Milk)
Robert Downey Jr. (Tropic Thunder)
Philip Seymour Hoffman (Doubt)
Heath Ledger (The Dark Knight)
Michael Shannon (Revolutionary Road)
Michael Shannon is the only surprise here. I haven’t seen the film yet, but he was great in Shotgun Stories and Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead. Hoffman is in because he is Hoffman. Brolin almost came out of nowhere last year with a number of remarkable performances and 2008 was no different. I’m happy to see Robert Downey Jr. get a nod for his hilarious turn as Kirk Lazarus and it seems the supporting categories are the only time when the Academy ever recognizes comedic performances. However, Heath Ledger seems to be the man to beat. If he does win, I hope it’s because they really thought his performance was that good (I thought it was) and they aren’t giving a pity vote. Peter Finch won Best Actor posthumously for Network so it isn’t unprecedented. If not Heath, then Hoffman and Michael Shannon as an outside chance.
Even though Heath got all the attention, I thought Gary Oldman and Aaron Eckhart each did a fantastic job in The Dark Knight. James Franco was also snubbed as I think he could have been nominated for Milk or even Pineapple Express. Same goes for Ralph Fiennes for any one of his performances in The Duchess, In Bruges, or The Reader.
Who Should Win: Heath Ledger
Who Will Win: Heath Ledger
Best Supporting Actress
Amy Adams (Doubt)
Penelope Cruz (Vicky Cristina Barcelona)
Viola Davis (Doubt)
Taraji P. Hanson (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button)
Marisa Tomei (The Wrestler)
Amy Adams gets a second Best Supporting nomination with that same type of wide-eyed naiveté she portrayed in her breakout role from Junebug. Meanwhile, Penelope Cruz gets her second Oscar nomination overall with her first for her lead role in Volver. Marisa Tomei gets her third nomination in this category with the previous two being In the Bedroom and her controversial win for My Cousin Vinny. I’d say the newcomers are the odds-on favorites this year. Viola Davis is getting a lot of buzz (and deservedly so) for her brief role in Doubt. You also have to take into account that Best Supporting Actress seems to be the consolation prize to any film that doesn’t win in any of the major categories.
Who Should Win: Marisa Tomei
Who Will Win: Viola Davis
Best Director
Danny Boyle (Slumdog Millionaire)
Stephen Daldry (The Reader)
David Fincher (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button)
Ron Howard (Frost/Nixon)
Gus Van Sant (Milk)
Since 1990, there have been only four instances where the winners for Best Director did not go on to win Best Picture. I could stretch things back further, but I’m too lazy to do the research at the moment. I think the odds-on favorites here have to be David Fincher and Danny Boyle. The former for making an epic near-three hour long film with tons of special effects and the latter for directing a dazzling, feel-good, indie darling. Benjamin Button is more in line with the types of films the Academy loves, but Slumdog is the little picture that could. Of course, the voters could always split the difference. Since I’m picking Slumdog for Best Picture, I’ll go with Boyle for Best Director.
Definitely overlooked Darren Aronofsky (The Wrestler), Christopher Nolan (The Dark Knight), Tomas Alfredson (Let the Right One In), and Jon Favreau (Iron Man).
Who Should Win: Danny Boyle
Who Will Win: Danny Boyle
Best Original Screenplay
Courtney Hunt (Frozen River)
Mike Leigh (Happy-Go-Lucky)
Martin McDonagh (In Bruges)
Dustin Lance Black (Milk)
Andrew Stanton, Pete Docter & Jim Reardon (Wall-E)
Wall-E has an outside shot, but since it’s a 99.999% assured to win the Best Animated Film award, it probably won’t win here. For me, the race is between Milk and In Bruges. The voters will probably go for the former while I chose the latter. This is another instance where The Wrestler was overlooked.
Who Should Win: In Bruges
Who Will Win: Milk
Best Adapted Screenplay
Eric Roth & Robin Swicord (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button)
John Patrick Shanley (Doubt)
Peter Morgan (Frost/Nixon)
David Hare (The Reader)
Simon Beaufoy (Slumdog Millionaire)
Once again, the odds-on favorites are probably Slumdog and Benjamin Button. The last two winners in this category went on to win Best Picture. I’m guessing that they’ll split the difference here.
Who Should Win: Slumdog Millionaire
Who Will Win: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Best Animated Film
Bolt
Kung Fu Panda
Wall-E
I do think Waltz with Bashir should have gotten a nod here. In any case, Pixar pretty much owns this category and Wall-E is practically a lock here.
Who Should Win: Wall-E
Who Will Win: Wall-E
Best Documentary
The Betrayal – Nerakhoon
Encounters at the End of the World
The Garden
Man on Wire
Trouble the Water
I’ve seen more documentaries this year than I have in previous years. Even then, I’ve only seen Encounters and Man on Wire. The latter doc has seen overwhelming critical approval. However, Trouble the Water (centering around the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina) seems to be the most politically charged and socially relevant nominee.
Who Should Win: Since I haven’t seen all 5 films, I’ll refrain from choosing.
Who Will Win: Trouble the Water
Best Foreign Film
Der Baader Meinhof Komplex
Entre les murs (The Class)
Revanche
Okuribito (Depatures)
Vals Im Bashir (Waltz with Bashir
Not going to predict a winner here, just complain. I won’t judge too harshly since I’ve only seen one of these films, but it seems like the Foreign Film category gets more and more useless every year. I can’t believe Let the Right One In didn’t get nominated. I know, I know, Sweden submitted another picture as their submission, but still. This isn’t the first time a great foreign film gets snubbed due to the Academy’s stringent technicalities. Remember The Motorcycle Diaries?
Best Original Song
“Down to Earth” (Wall-E
“Jai Ho” (Slumdog Millionaire)
“O Saya” (Slumdog Millionaire)
Umm…what the Hell happened here? Three nominees? Only three? Didn’t they nominate three songs alone from Enchanted one year? A list of about forty or so songs was circulated a while back as top contenders so I have no idea what they were thinking in dropping it down to a scant three nominees. I can only assume that they just didn’t want to slow down the awards ceremony with too many musical performances. It’s completely ridiculous to be honest. No nominations for “The Wrestler” or “Gran Torino”? How do you snub both Bruce Springsteen AND Clint Eastwood at the same time? I’m not even going to bother.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Waltz with Bashir
Waltz with Bashir - Dir. Ari Folman (2008)
Waltz with Bashir is a rare breed of film. An animated documentary, Waltz with Bashir is a haunting, introspective look at the tragedies and costs of war. The film couldn’t have a more timely release coming off renewed violence between Israel and Palestine. Writer/Director Ari Folman served in the Israeli Army in 1982 as a wet behind the ears, nineteen year-old. Folman is surprised to find he has no memories of the time he served when Israeli forces invaded Lebanon. Waltz with Bashir finds Folman on a journey of self-discovery as he attempts to awaken the hidden areas of his mind.
The film begins with one of Folman’s comrades recounting a recurring nightmare he has had for over twenty years. In the dream, twenty-six dogs run through the streets in an effort to hunt him down. The soldier begins to remember that he was ordered to shoot any dogs they came across during night patrol lest they alert enemy forces. His story begins to trigger Folman’s lost memories. The image that pops to his mind is he and two other soldiers emerging nude from the water as a flare lights up bombed out Beirut with a strange orange glow. Folman speaks with other soldiers as well as a journalist who all have firsthand knowledge of the Lebanon war. One soldier speaks of arriving on the beaches of Beirut and opening fire on a moving car which held only an innocent family. Another comrade tells of the time he was left behind enemy lines after his tank squadron came under attack. He also interviews a therapist friend and a psychologist who help him understand the nature of the mind.
Folman’s choice of using a combination of hand-drawn and Flash animation was a genius decision that works on multiple levels. One, it gives Waltz with Bashir a unique look that elevates the documentary from the staid recreations and talking head interviews that it would have normally been. The animation also accentuates the fluidity and of dreams and memories. Folman is able to capture many of the surreal recollections of his interview subjects such as the opening nightmare or the tale of a soldier’s dream of being swept away by a giant woman in the nude.
The Bashir in the film’s title is Bashir Gemayel, a Lebanese-Christian who was elected president only to be assassinated nine days before taking office. In response, the Israel Defense Forces invaded Beirut then stood by as a Lebanese Christian militia massacred unarmed villagers in revenge. Women, children, and whole families were lined up against a wall and gunned down. The majority of foot soldiers had no idea of the scope of the atrocities even while some witnessed it with their own eyes. Waltz with Bashir ends with real footage of the massacre’s aftermath with scenes of weeping mothers and wives, of dead sons and husbands and a child buried under rubble.
Rating: *** ½
Waltz with Bashir is a rare breed of film. An animated documentary, Waltz with Bashir is a haunting, introspective look at the tragedies and costs of war. The film couldn’t have a more timely release coming off renewed violence between Israel and Palestine. Writer/Director Ari Folman served in the Israeli Army in 1982 as a wet behind the ears, nineteen year-old. Folman is surprised to find he has no memories of the time he served when Israeli forces invaded Lebanon. Waltz with Bashir finds Folman on a journey of self-discovery as he attempts to awaken the hidden areas of his mind.
The film begins with one of Folman’s comrades recounting a recurring nightmare he has had for over twenty years. In the dream, twenty-six dogs run through the streets in an effort to hunt him down. The soldier begins to remember that he was ordered to shoot any dogs they came across during night patrol lest they alert enemy forces. His story begins to trigger Folman’s lost memories. The image that pops to his mind is he and two other soldiers emerging nude from the water as a flare lights up bombed out Beirut with a strange orange glow. Folman speaks with other soldiers as well as a journalist who all have firsthand knowledge of the Lebanon war. One soldier speaks of arriving on the beaches of Beirut and opening fire on a moving car which held only an innocent family. Another comrade tells of the time he was left behind enemy lines after his tank squadron came under attack. He also interviews a therapist friend and a psychologist who help him understand the nature of the mind.
Folman’s choice of using a combination of hand-drawn and Flash animation was a genius decision that works on multiple levels. One, it gives Waltz with Bashir a unique look that elevates the documentary from the staid recreations and talking head interviews that it would have normally been. The animation also accentuates the fluidity and of dreams and memories. Folman is able to capture many of the surreal recollections of his interview subjects such as the opening nightmare or the tale of a soldier’s dream of being swept away by a giant woman in the nude.
The Bashir in the film’s title is Bashir Gemayel, a Lebanese-Christian who was elected president only to be assassinated nine days before taking office. In response, the Israel Defense Forces invaded Beirut then stood by as a Lebanese Christian militia massacred unarmed villagers in revenge. Women, children, and whole families were lined up against a wall and gunned down. The majority of foot soldiers had no idea of the scope of the atrocities even while some witnessed it with their own eyes. Waltz with Bashir ends with real footage of the massacre’s aftermath with scenes of weeping mothers and wives, of dead sons and husbands and a child buried under rubble.
Rating: *** ½
Friday, January 16, 2009
Valkyrie
Valkyrie - Dir. Bryan Singer (2008)
The fall of 2008 is a great time to be a Nazi, cinema-wise. There’s been a wealth of releases dealing with World War II and Hitler’s Fourth Reich. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, Adam Resurrected, The Reader, Good, and Defiance, but the biggest, high profile production has to be the Tom Cruise vehicle Valkyrie. Cruise dons an eyepatch as Col. Claus von Stauffenberg who lost his left eye, right hand, several fingers on his left hand during a campaign in North Africa. Already disillusioned with his Fuhrer and the atrocities committed by the SS, Col. Stauffenberg joins with a secret cadre of similarly disenchanted officers and politicians in a plot to assassinate Hitler. The conspirators plan to take Adolf out with a bomb planted at his headquarters, the Wolf’s Lair. However, the true problem that hadn’t been addressed in previous attempts is what to do afterwards. It is Stauffenberg that hatches the idea to use the reserve army to secure Berlin and arrest members of the SS in order to finalize their coup.
You don’t need to be a history buff to know their plan fails. It’s a testament to the filmmakers that they were able to keep the suspense. Director Bryan Singer is used to working with ensemble casts that might be unwieldy in other hands. Here, he re-teams with his Usual Suspects screenwriter Christopher McQuarrie and co-writer Nathan Alexander. Valkyrie doesn’t deal with the deeper issues of war and the concentration camps are only mentioned once throughout the entire film. This is slick Hollywood filmmaking at it’s finest, a stripped down Mission: Impossible without all the gadgets and stunts.
As the lead, Tom Cruise isn’t as terrible as most people assumed. He’s not spectacular, but he’s perfectly adequate, if a tad too American. Luckily for Maverick, he’s got plenty of back-up in the form of an A-list supporting cast of some of the finest actors working today. And best of all, they’re British. Who else can lend credibility and gravitas to a film than an Englishman? Even Hitler is played, quite convincingly, by a British actor (David Bamber). There’s also Kenneth Branagh as Major-Gen. Tresckow who brought Stauffenberg into his circle after failing to kill Hitler with a booby trapped champagne bottle. We’ve got the always excellent Tom Wilkinson as Gen. Fromm who seems content with sitting back and seeing where the chips fall, Terence Stamp as one of the head conspirators, and rounding out the heroes are Bill Nighy and Eddie Izzard in a rare (but great) dramatic role. So that’s Ethan Hunt, Prof. Gilderoy Lockhart, General Zod, Carmine Falcone, Davy Jones, and one of the Disco Boys. How did Hitler survive against those odds?
No one speaks in a German accent by the way as Singer chose to allow his actors to speak with their natural voices. The odd amalgamation of American, British, and German accents is fairly distracting at first, but the story is engrossing enough that you forget all about it.
Cruise’s off-screen shenanigans unfairly soured the film long before it was released. The picture also suffered from several delays and reshoots partly due to film stock being destroyed. Again, that led to some negative buzz which was unfounded. Valkyrie won’t find its way onto any year-end lists, but it’s a good, popcorn thriller.
Rating; ***
The fall of 2008 is a great time to be a Nazi, cinema-wise. There’s been a wealth of releases dealing with World War II and Hitler’s Fourth Reich. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, Adam Resurrected, The Reader, Good, and Defiance, but the biggest, high profile production has to be the Tom Cruise vehicle Valkyrie. Cruise dons an eyepatch as Col. Claus von Stauffenberg who lost his left eye, right hand, several fingers on his left hand during a campaign in North Africa. Already disillusioned with his Fuhrer and the atrocities committed by the SS, Col. Stauffenberg joins with a secret cadre of similarly disenchanted officers and politicians in a plot to assassinate Hitler. The conspirators plan to take Adolf out with a bomb planted at his headquarters, the Wolf’s Lair. However, the true problem that hadn’t been addressed in previous attempts is what to do afterwards. It is Stauffenberg that hatches the idea to use the reserve army to secure Berlin and arrest members of the SS in order to finalize their coup.
You don’t need to be a history buff to know their plan fails. It’s a testament to the filmmakers that they were able to keep the suspense. Director Bryan Singer is used to working with ensemble casts that might be unwieldy in other hands. Here, he re-teams with his Usual Suspects screenwriter Christopher McQuarrie and co-writer Nathan Alexander. Valkyrie doesn’t deal with the deeper issues of war and the concentration camps are only mentioned once throughout the entire film. This is slick Hollywood filmmaking at it’s finest, a stripped down Mission: Impossible without all the gadgets and stunts.
As the lead, Tom Cruise isn’t as terrible as most people assumed. He’s not spectacular, but he’s perfectly adequate, if a tad too American. Luckily for Maverick, he’s got plenty of back-up in the form of an A-list supporting cast of some of the finest actors working today. And best of all, they’re British. Who else can lend credibility and gravitas to a film than an Englishman? Even Hitler is played, quite convincingly, by a British actor (David Bamber). There’s also Kenneth Branagh as Major-Gen. Tresckow who brought Stauffenberg into his circle after failing to kill Hitler with a booby trapped champagne bottle. We’ve got the always excellent Tom Wilkinson as Gen. Fromm who seems content with sitting back and seeing where the chips fall, Terence Stamp as one of the head conspirators, and rounding out the heroes are Bill Nighy and Eddie Izzard in a rare (but great) dramatic role. So that’s Ethan Hunt, Prof. Gilderoy Lockhart, General Zod, Carmine Falcone, Davy Jones, and one of the Disco Boys. How did Hitler survive against those odds?
No one speaks in a German accent by the way as Singer chose to allow his actors to speak with their natural voices. The odd amalgamation of American, British, and German accents is fairly distracting at first, but the story is engrossing enough that you forget all about it.
Cruise’s off-screen shenanigans unfairly soured the film long before it was released. The picture also suffered from several delays and reshoots partly due to film stock being destroyed. Again, that led to some negative buzz which was unfounded. Valkyrie won’t find its way onto any year-end lists, but it’s a good, popcorn thriller.
Rating; ***
Thursday, January 15, 2009
The Wrestler
The Wrestler - Dir. Darren Aronofsky (2008)
Who’da thunk it? A movie about professional wrestling with a strong presence during awards season. More importantly, a movie about professional wrestling that doesn’t suck. Need I remind you of Body Slam or No Holds Barred? The pseudo-sport has always been treated as a joke by the mainstream, but I hope The Wrestler will make people think slightly differently about it.
Randy “The Ram” Robinson (Mickey Rourke) was a huge star during the wrestling boom period of the 1980’s. His match against long-time rival The Ayatollah (Ernest Miller) was the main event at the world famous Madison Square Garden. The film’s opening credits (set to “Metal Health (Bang Your Head)” by Quiet Riot) feature playbills, posters, and articles from Pro Wrestling Illustrated and other wrestling magazines I used to read in the supermarkets, all of which are adorned with the Ram’s visage. The credits fade and we cut to today as an old, beat-up Randy Robinson sits alone in an elementary school classroom after his latest match. This star has faded.
Nowadays, the Ram ekes out a living on the independent circuit, wrestling in high school gyms and VFW halls. In real life, he’s Robin Randinsky and works a lousy part-time job at a grocery store where he takes crap from his condescending boss. After the show, Ram drives back to his trailer park (while “Don’t Know What You Got ‘Till It’s Gone” by Cinderella plays on the radio) only to find himself locked out of his trailer for falling behind on rent. He has to wear glasses to read and a hearing aid in one of his ears. His daughter, Stephanie (Evan Rachel Wood), wants nothing to do with him. But, in the ring, he’s still the Ram. In the ring, he’s treated as a god by a small, but adoring fanbase. In the ring, he’s treated as a hero by the young up-and-comers of the indie scene who shake his hand and call him ‘sir’ and say, “It’s an honor.”
However, outside the ring, his only friend is a stripped named Cassidy (Marisa Tomei). Although, her real name is Pam and she’s a single mom. Just like Randy, she plays a character on stage and uses her body to pay the bills. Age plays a big factor in both their lives as neither can continue on as Father Time rears his ugly head. Randy is perpetually stuck in the 80’s, listening to hair metal while still playing his 8-bit Nintendo. In one of the film’s best scenes, he and Cassidy lament the death of the glam bands following the rise of Kurt Cobain and grunge (”The 90’s fucking sucked.”). When the Ram suffers a heart attack after a particularly brutal match, he’s forced to put his life in perspective including getting back in touch with his estranged daughter.
Following the failure of his big-budget epic, The Fountain, director Darren Aronofsky triumphantly returns with this small, more personal film. The Wrestler shares similar themes with Aronofsky’s Requiem for a Dream in that both pictures deal with addiction and the crushing realities of life. However, the former is far less depressing and just a little less fatalistic. Aronofsky also jettisons the glossy camera and editing techniques for a much more documentary approach. This is thanks in no small part to cinematographer Maryse Alberti who has shot documentaries such as Taxi to the Dark Side, Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room, and No Direction Home: Bob Dylan. The camera is dropped right into the ring during the Ram’s wrestling matches as we hear every body blow and called spot. In the locker room, we feel like a fly on the wall as the wrestlers plan out the moves for their matches. The camera lingers behind Randy the Ram backstage just before he enters the arena then follows him through the curtains. We also follow him through his regular routines. He visits the salon to keep his hair blonde and flowing. He lies in a tanning bed and buys steroids & growth hormone from a fellow wrestler who is a walking pharmacy. This is a film that oozes authenticity.
As I write this review, Mickey Rourke has just won a Golden Globe for his performance as Randy “The Ram” Robinson. He will surely be a strong contender for an Oscar. David Ansen of Newsweek called this the “Resurrection of Mickey Rourke.” I thought he’d been back for a while. Take a look at Once Upon a Time in Mexico, Sin City, Domino or even Spun. Nonetheless, this is the role that cements his comeback. It’s not a stretch for Rourke who also saw his star power drop significantly following some poor business and personal decisions. Randy the Ram is as much an extension of Rourke’s persona as Gran Torino’s Walt Kowalski was of Clint Eastwood’s. Rourke’s weathered, beat-up face says all you need to know about the character. That face and leathery skin certainly evokes images of past wrestling superstars like Ric Flair or Greg “The Hammer” Valentine. There’s a lot of hurt hidden beneath the tough exterior. He gets staple gunned and thrown through plate glass during one bout, but it’s only in the real world where he admittedly feels any real pain.
Rourke isn’t a sad sack though; he’s a lovable lug with plenty of charm. After being moved from the stock room to the deli counter, Randy eases into the role and treats it just like any other show with the customers as his audience. He tosses containers of potato salad like a football. When one customer asks for two big breasts of fried chicken, the Ram replies, ”That’s what I want. Something with two big breasts and a brain.” Rourke also performed the majority of his own stunts. He’s in his early fifties but he’s on screen busting out flying headscissors and leaping off the top rope for his signature finisher, the Ram Jam. He even blades himself, slashing a razor blade across his forehead to give the fans blood. And what can I say about Marisa Tomei? She gets better and better, acting-wise and looks-wise.
The Wrestler isn’t a perfect film. The script is excellently written by Robert D. Siegel, a former editor-in-chief at The Onion, even if it borrows a bit from the Rocky formula. The scenes between Randy and his daughter are heavy handed and the dialogue isn’t all that original. Lots of ‘You were never there for me’ which we’ve heard plenty of times. However, The Wrestler is still packed with an extraordinary amount of raw emotionality. There’s triumph and tragedy, laughs and tears, and images which will remain in your mind long after the film ended.
Rating: ****
Who’da thunk it? A movie about professional wrestling with a strong presence during awards season. More importantly, a movie about professional wrestling that doesn’t suck. Need I remind you of Body Slam or No Holds Barred? The pseudo-sport has always been treated as a joke by the mainstream, but I hope The Wrestler will make people think slightly differently about it.
Randy “The Ram” Robinson (Mickey Rourke) was a huge star during the wrestling boom period of the 1980’s. His match against long-time rival The Ayatollah (Ernest Miller) was the main event at the world famous Madison Square Garden. The film’s opening credits (set to “Metal Health (Bang Your Head)” by Quiet Riot) feature playbills, posters, and articles from Pro Wrestling Illustrated and other wrestling magazines I used to read in the supermarkets, all of which are adorned with the Ram’s visage. The credits fade and we cut to today as an old, beat-up Randy Robinson sits alone in an elementary school classroom after his latest match. This star has faded.
Nowadays, the Ram ekes out a living on the independent circuit, wrestling in high school gyms and VFW halls. In real life, he’s Robin Randinsky and works a lousy part-time job at a grocery store where he takes crap from his condescending boss. After the show, Ram drives back to his trailer park (while “Don’t Know What You Got ‘Till It’s Gone” by Cinderella plays on the radio) only to find himself locked out of his trailer for falling behind on rent. He has to wear glasses to read and a hearing aid in one of his ears. His daughter, Stephanie (Evan Rachel Wood), wants nothing to do with him. But, in the ring, he’s still the Ram. In the ring, he’s treated as a god by a small, but adoring fanbase. In the ring, he’s treated as a hero by the young up-and-comers of the indie scene who shake his hand and call him ‘sir’ and say, “It’s an honor.”
However, outside the ring, his only friend is a stripped named Cassidy (Marisa Tomei). Although, her real name is Pam and she’s a single mom. Just like Randy, she plays a character on stage and uses her body to pay the bills. Age plays a big factor in both their lives as neither can continue on as Father Time rears his ugly head. Randy is perpetually stuck in the 80’s, listening to hair metal while still playing his 8-bit Nintendo. In one of the film’s best scenes, he and Cassidy lament the death of the glam bands following the rise of Kurt Cobain and grunge (”The 90’s fucking sucked.”). When the Ram suffers a heart attack after a particularly brutal match, he’s forced to put his life in perspective including getting back in touch with his estranged daughter.
Following the failure of his big-budget epic, The Fountain, director Darren Aronofsky triumphantly returns with this small, more personal film. The Wrestler shares similar themes with Aronofsky’s Requiem for a Dream in that both pictures deal with addiction and the crushing realities of life. However, the former is far less depressing and just a little less fatalistic. Aronofsky also jettisons the glossy camera and editing techniques for a much more documentary approach. This is thanks in no small part to cinematographer Maryse Alberti who has shot documentaries such as Taxi to the Dark Side, Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room, and No Direction Home: Bob Dylan. The camera is dropped right into the ring during the Ram’s wrestling matches as we hear every body blow and called spot. In the locker room, we feel like a fly on the wall as the wrestlers plan out the moves for their matches. The camera lingers behind Randy the Ram backstage just before he enters the arena then follows him through the curtains. We also follow him through his regular routines. He visits the salon to keep his hair blonde and flowing. He lies in a tanning bed and buys steroids & growth hormone from a fellow wrestler who is a walking pharmacy. This is a film that oozes authenticity.
As I write this review, Mickey Rourke has just won a Golden Globe for his performance as Randy “The Ram” Robinson. He will surely be a strong contender for an Oscar. David Ansen of Newsweek called this the “Resurrection of Mickey Rourke.” I thought he’d been back for a while. Take a look at Once Upon a Time in Mexico, Sin City, Domino or even Spun. Nonetheless, this is the role that cements his comeback. It’s not a stretch for Rourke who also saw his star power drop significantly following some poor business and personal decisions. Randy the Ram is as much an extension of Rourke’s persona as Gran Torino’s Walt Kowalski was of Clint Eastwood’s. Rourke’s weathered, beat-up face says all you need to know about the character. That face and leathery skin certainly evokes images of past wrestling superstars like Ric Flair or Greg “The Hammer” Valentine. There’s a lot of hurt hidden beneath the tough exterior. He gets staple gunned and thrown through plate glass during one bout, but it’s only in the real world where he admittedly feels any real pain.
Rourke isn’t a sad sack though; he’s a lovable lug with plenty of charm. After being moved from the stock room to the deli counter, Randy eases into the role and treats it just like any other show with the customers as his audience. He tosses containers of potato salad like a football. When one customer asks for two big breasts of fried chicken, the Ram replies, ”That’s what I want. Something with two big breasts and a brain.” Rourke also performed the majority of his own stunts. He’s in his early fifties but he’s on screen busting out flying headscissors and leaping off the top rope for his signature finisher, the Ram Jam. He even blades himself, slashing a razor blade across his forehead to give the fans blood. And what can I say about Marisa Tomei? She gets better and better, acting-wise and looks-wise.
The Wrestler isn’t a perfect film. The script is excellently written by Robert D. Siegel, a former editor-in-chief at The Onion, even if it borrows a bit from the Rocky formula. The scenes between Randy and his daughter are heavy handed and the dialogue isn’t all that original. Lots of ‘You were never there for me’ which we’ve heard plenty of times. However, The Wrestler is still packed with an extraordinary amount of raw emotionality. There’s triumph and tragedy, laughs and tears, and images which will remain in your mind long after the film ended.
Rating: ****
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Transporter 3
Transporter 3 - Dir. Olivier Megaton (2008)
It’s the threequel that everybody demanded. It isn’t? Well, too bad, you’re getting it as Jason Statham returns and he’s even more Transporter-ier than ever. I admit, as a sucker for brainless action flicks, I enjoyed the first Transporter and the sequel at least went over the top with its ludicrous action sequences. The latest installment tries to be a grittier Transporter with goofy action scenes, but can’t have it both ways.
The plot (as if it matters) recycles the original film and throws in the added complication of an explosive bracelet that would blow Jason Statham up if he gets too far from his car. Statham can sleepwalk through these taciturn badass roles even if the story is completely interchangeable with whatever latest Transporter/Crank/Death Race movie he’s doing. And T-Bag from Prison Break is an excellent choice to play the villain, although I’m not exactly sure why the bad guy needs to hire the Transporter when he already has an army of minions at his beck and call.
Of the film’s many faults, the first comes from the ridiculously named Olivier Megaton (second only to McG) who directs the film with the subtlety of his namesake bomb. Megaton uses fast forwards, slow motion shots, flash cuts, and anything else he might have seen on MTV. It’s like the camera is on an eternal sugar rush. The absolute worst of all is newcomer Natalya Rudakova, an annoying little ginger with a poor command of the English language. At one point, she wants to “make the sex” with the Transporter. When Frank turns her turn, she asks if he is "the gay." Their forced romance is completely unbelievable (not to mention creepy, she looks seriously underaged) and grinds the movie to a sudden halt. And since this is PG-13, you get no boobs or butt shot. What’s the point?
Rating: *
It’s the threequel that everybody demanded. It isn’t? Well, too bad, you’re getting it as Jason Statham returns and he’s even more Transporter-ier than ever. I admit, as a sucker for brainless action flicks, I enjoyed the first Transporter and the sequel at least went over the top with its ludicrous action sequences. The latest installment tries to be a grittier Transporter with goofy action scenes, but can’t have it both ways.
The plot (as if it matters) recycles the original film and throws in the added complication of an explosive bracelet that would blow Jason Statham up if he gets too far from his car. Statham can sleepwalk through these taciturn badass roles even if the story is completely interchangeable with whatever latest Transporter/Crank/Death Race movie he’s doing. And T-Bag from Prison Break is an excellent choice to play the villain, although I’m not exactly sure why the bad guy needs to hire the Transporter when he already has an army of minions at his beck and call.
Of the film’s many faults, the first comes from the ridiculously named Olivier Megaton (second only to McG) who directs the film with the subtlety of his namesake bomb. Megaton uses fast forwards, slow motion shots, flash cuts, and anything else he might have seen on MTV. It’s like the camera is on an eternal sugar rush. The absolute worst of all is newcomer Natalya Rudakova, an annoying little ginger with a poor command of the English language. At one point, she wants to “make the sex” with the Transporter. When Frank turns her turn, she asks if he is "the gay." Their forced romance is completely unbelievable (not to mention creepy, she looks seriously underaged) and grinds the movie to a sudden halt. And since this is PG-13, you get no boobs or butt shot. What’s the point?
Rating: *
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Babylon A.D.
Babylon A.D. - Dir. Mathieu Kassovitz (2008)
The worst sin an action movie can commit is to be a complete and utter bore. I can forgive bad acting, cheesy dialogue, and a derivative plot if I get plenty of shoot outs, fights, and explosions. However, I simply cannot abide an action film without any action.
Vin Diesel plays Toorop, a mercenary hired to escort a girl named Aurora (Melanie Thierry) and her guardian, Sister Rebeka (Michelle Yeoh), out of Europe and into the U.S. They’re chased everywhere they go by a bunch of people for some reason. Don’t ask me why, I wasn’t really paying attention.
Babylon A.D. tries desperately to be an amped-up Children of Men, but winds up as a knockoff of Johnny Mnemonic and Transporter. Sure, the movie has fight scenes, gun battles, explosions, and even a jet ski chase. None of it is directed with any sort of flair, just more of the same rapid edit style that everyone does these days.
Director Mathieu Kassovitz blames the studio for taking the film away from him, editing down a 161 minute film into a 90 minute quickie palpable to the shopping mall multiplex audiences. Personally, I give Kassovitz credit for having the balls to actually attempt to make a three hour Vin Diesel movie.
Diesel plays the same stoic protagonist he always does which wouldn’t be such a problem if he picked better scripts. You'd think Michelle Yeoh as a kung fu fighting nun would be awesome. Alas, she is even more wasted here than she was in The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor. An awful movie that wasn't even worthy of the prestige that comes from a Razzie nomination.
Rating: *
The worst sin an action movie can commit is to be a complete and utter bore. I can forgive bad acting, cheesy dialogue, and a derivative plot if I get plenty of shoot outs, fights, and explosions. However, I simply cannot abide an action film without any action.
Vin Diesel plays Toorop, a mercenary hired to escort a girl named Aurora (Melanie Thierry) and her guardian, Sister Rebeka (Michelle Yeoh), out of Europe and into the U.S. They’re chased everywhere they go by a bunch of people for some reason. Don’t ask me why, I wasn’t really paying attention.
Babylon A.D. tries desperately to be an amped-up Children of Men, but winds up as a knockoff of Johnny Mnemonic and Transporter. Sure, the movie has fight scenes, gun battles, explosions, and even a jet ski chase. None of it is directed with any sort of flair, just more of the same rapid edit style that everyone does these days.
Director Mathieu Kassovitz blames the studio for taking the film away from him, editing down a 161 minute film into a 90 minute quickie palpable to the shopping mall multiplex audiences. Personally, I give Kassovitz credit for having the balls to actually attempt to make a three hour Vin Diesel movie.
Diesel plays the same stoic protagonist he always does which wouldn’t be such a problem if he picked better scripts. You'd think Michelle Yeoh as a kung fu fighting nun would be awesome. Alas, she is even more wasted here than she was in The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor. An awful movie that wasn't even worthy of the prestige that comes from a Razzie nomination.
Rating: *
Monday, January 12, 2009
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button - Dir. David Fincher (2008)
Benjamin Button will stand for years to come as a monumental achievement in technical wizardry. However, the film isn’t there to service the special effects; the effects are there to service the film. Director David Fincher, known for darker fare (Seven, Fight Club, Zodiac), has created a vivid storybook tale of love and mortality.
Brad Pitt plays the title character for much of the film, usually hidden behind a layer of make-up and CGI effects. He is born at the end of World War I in New Orleans, except he is born with all the ailments of an 80 year-old man. His skin is wrinkled, his limbs are arthritic, and his eyes are stricken with cataracts. The baby’s mother dies giving birth and the father, Thomas Button (Jason Flemyng), leaves the baby at the doorstep of a nursing home. There, he’s taken in by Queenie (Taraji P. Hanson), the caretaker who names the baby, Benjamin. He begins life as a lame-legged old man, fitting right in with other inhabitants. Soon, he meets the red-haired Daisy (Elle Fanning as a child, Cate Blanchett as an adult), the granddaughter of another tenant. For Benjamin, it’s love at first sight while Daisy senses a kindred soul underneath his elderly exterior.
Benjamin devours life with a youthful exuberance. He explores New Orleans with a newly-arrived pygmy and gets a job on a tugboat with Captain Mike (Jared Harris). At sea, Benjamin sees more of the world and visits his first brothel. He travels to Russia where he has an affair with Elizabeth Abbot (Tilda Swinton), the wife of a British diplomat. Returning to the States, his relationship with Daisy goes through its ups and downs. It isn’t until the two reunite in their middle age that their love affair can finally begin. But, love is fleeting when Benjamin realizes he’ll grow younger and younger.
The script was co-written by Robin Swicord and Eric Roth who took inspiration from a 24 page short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald to create a near three hour masterpiece. Roth previously won an Oscar for his adaptation of Forrest Gump and you can clearly see echoes of that in Benjamin Button. Both films star a passive protagonist moving through the 20th century and a love that is doomed by circumstances worldly and physical. However, Button manages to avoid distilling almost an entire century of history into a series of contrivances and empty Hallmark platitudes. While this works great, there are two glaring omissions. Though Benjamin is raised by an adoptive black mother, the issue of segregation in the south is never mentioned. Sprinkled throughout the film are scenes with an aged Daisy on her deathbed as her daughter (Julia Ormond) reads from Benjamin’s diary just before Hurricane Katrina strikes. It feels like a superfluous addition when the tragedy isn’t truly addressed.
Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett give fine performances though not as strong as some of their other films. The romance between Benjamin and Daisy is at its strongest when they’re at their most miserable. It’s not nearly as interesting when they’re happy, frolicking in their sparsely furnished apartment as the Beatles play on The Ed Sullivan Show. The best performance belongs to Taraji P. Henson for her portrayal of Benjamin’s Butterfly McQueen-esque adoptive mother.
Rating: *** ½
Benjamin Button will stand for years to come as a monumental achievement in technical wizardry. However, the film isn’t there to service the special effects; the effects are there to service the film. Director David Fincher, known for darker fare (Seven, Fight Club, Zodiac), has created a vivid storybook tale of love and mortality.
Brad Pitt plays the title character for much of the film, usually hidden behind a layer of make-up and CGI effects. He is born at the end of World War I in New Orleans, except he is born with all the ailments of an 80 year-old man. His skin is wrinkled, his limbs are arthritic, and his eyes are stricken with cataracts. The baby’s mother dies giving birth and the father, Thomas Button (Jason Flemyng), leaves the baby at the doorstep of a nursing home. There, he’s taken in by Queenie (Taraji P. Hanson), the caretaker who names the baby, Benjamin. He begins life as a lame-legged old man, fitting right in with other inhabitants. Soon, he meets the red-haired Daisy (Elle Fanning as a child, Cate Blanchett as an adult), the granddaughter of another tenant. For Benjamin, it’s love at first sight while Daisy senses a kindred soul underneath his elderly exterior.
Benjamin devours life with a youthful exuberance. He explores New Orleans with a newly-arrived pygmy and gets a job on a tugboat with Captain Mike (Jared Harris). At sea, Benjamin sees more of the world and visits his first brothel. He travels to Russia where he has an affair with Elizabeth Abbot (Tilda Swinton), the wife of a British diplomat. Returning to the States, his relationship with Daisy goes through its ups and downs. It isn’t until the two reunite in their middle age that their love affair can finally begin. But, love is fleeting when Benjamin realizes he’ll grow younger and younger.
The script was co-written by Robin Swicord and Eric Roth who took inspiration from a 24 page short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald to create a near three hour masterpiece. Roth previously won an Oscar for his adaptation of Forrest Gump and you can clearly see echoes of that in Benjamin Button. Both films star a passive protagonist moving through the 20th century and a love that is doomed by circumstances worldly and physical. However, Button manages to avoid distilling almost an entire century of history into a series of contrivances and empty Hallmark platitudes. While this works great, there are two glaring omissions. Though Benjamin is raised by an adoptive black mother, the issue of segregation in the south is never mentioned. Sprinkled throughout the film are scenes with an aged Daisy on her deathbed as her daughter (Julia Ormond) reads from Benjamin’s diary just before Hurricane Katrina strikes. It feels like a superfluous addition when the tragedy isn’t truly addressed.
Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett give fine performances though not as strong as some of their other films. The romance between Benjamin and Daisy is at its strongest when they’re at their most miserable. It’s not nearly as interesting when they’re happy, frolicking in their sparsely furnished apartment as the Beatles play on The Ed Sullivan Show. The best performance belongs to Taraji P. Henson for her portrayal of Benjamin’s Butterfly McQueen-esque adoptive mother.
Rating: *** ½
Saturday, January 10, 2009
The Reader
The Reader - Dir. Stephen Daldry (2008)
The Reader dances a thin line between arthouse drama and softcore porn. Kate Winslet once again bares flesh in this adaptation of the best-selling German novel from The Hours writing/directing team of David Hare and Stephen Daldry.
Young actor David Kross plays Michael Berg, a teenage boy who becomes fixated with Winslet’s Hanna Schmitz, a middle-aged ticket taker. They meet during a rainy day when Michael falls ill outside Hanna’s apartment building. Hanna’s remark, ”Have you always been this weak?” succinctly sets the tone for their relationship. Michael spends the next three months bedridden having been diagnosed with scarlet fever. Healthy once more, Michael visits Hanna’s apartment to bring her flowers as a thank you. He glimpses Hanna getting dressed and putting on her stockings. Caught, he runs away but returns the next day. Michael gets dirty after fetching Hanna coal and she orders him into her tub and returns to dry him. Oh, she’s naked now.
As their illicit affair progresses, Hanna begins asking Michael about his studies. She eventually has Michael read to her, always before sex, never after. He reads Hanna The Odyssey, Huckleberry Finn, and even Lady Chatterly’s Lover while in the tub together. She finds the latter disgusting, but asks him to continue. The relationship becomes tempestuous as Michael finds himself split between Hanna, his family, and school friends. Before the summer is over, Hanna has disappeared without as much as a word to anyone.
Eight years later, Michael is now studying law and sits in the audience at a war crimes trial. He is shocked to hear Hanna’s name called as one of the defendants. Before they ever met, she was a member of the SS and prison guard at a satellite camp near Auschwitz. He feels both love and revulsion. The film unfolds in a non-linear fashion beginning with a middle-aged Michael in the 1995. His time with Hanna has left a hole in his heart and informed his relationships with other women. Michael is divorced with an estranged daughter. We jump back and forth from Michael’s childhood to adulthood when he later sends an imprisoned Hanna books on tape he recorded himself.
The romance between Michael and Hanna acts a parable to the feelings of the post-WWII generation of Germans trying to come to grips with the horrors of the Holocaust. Anger, guilt, the sins of the father, and all that. The Reader starts off well, but there is an almost mechanical and sterile fashion to the way it treats the subject matter. I haven’t read the novel, yet I can safely guess (as with most adaptations) that a lot of the subtext and added layers were lost in the translation. Even when Michael visits Auschwitz and walks through the barracks, it still feels like too clean like a History Channel reenactment.
Though the storytelling falls short, the acting is strong across the board. Winslet really carries the entire picture on her shoulders. She’s de-glamorized for much of the film and is buried under make-up to play the eighty year-old Hanna. However, Winslet’s performance is much more than a reliance on gimmicks. Ironically, her character is the hardest to read. Like others of her generation, larger circumstances led to her falling in with the Nazi party, but how much she shared with their ideology is never revealed. Nor do we ever fully comprehend her culpability in the deaths of her prisoners. She is the perfect microcosm for the majority of the population during that time. Though she may not have personally killed anyone, she stood by and watched. She went along with it. She was only following orders. Michael too is guilty of remaining silent. He learns of a deep kept secret of Hanna’s, one that would affect the outcome of the trial. He ultimately says nothing out of guilt and, perhaps, as a way to punish Hanna for abruptly leaving him. Ralph Fiennes gives a quiet pain to the older Michael Berg. Fiennes own subdued performance in The Duchess came off cold and cruel, here it’s tormented uncertainty. Maybe that has more to do with context than anything else.
Rating: ** 1/2
The Reader dances a thin line between arthouse drama and softcore porn. Kate Winslet once again bares flesh in this adaptation of the best-selling German novel from The Hours writing/directing team of David Hare and Stephen Daldry.
Young actor David Kross plays Michael Berg, a teenage boy who becomes fixated with Winslet’s Hanna Schmitz, a middle-aged ticket taker. They meet during a rainy day when Michael falls ill outside Hanna’s apartment building. Hanna’s remark, ”Have you always been this weak?” succinctly sets the tone for their relationship. Michael spends the next three months bedridden having been diagnosed with scarlet fever. Healthy once more, Michael visits Hanna’s apartment to bring her flowers as a thank you. He glimpses Hanna getting dressed and putting on her stockings. Caught, he runs away but returns the next day. Michael gets dirty after fetching Hanna coal and she orders him into her tub and returns to dry him. Oh, she’s naked now.
As their illicit affair progresses, Hanna begins asking Michael about his studies. She eventually has Michael read to her, always before sex, never after. He reads Hanna The Odyssey, Huckleberry Finn, and even Lady Chatterly’s Lover while in the tub together. She finds the latter disgusting, but asks him to continue. The relationship becomes tempestuous as Michael finds himself split between Hanna, his family, and school friends. Before the summer is over, Hanna has disappeared without as much as a word to anyone.
Eight years later, Michael is now studying law and sits in the audience at a war crimes trial. He is shocked to hear Hanna’s name called as one of the defendants. Before they ever met, she was a member of the SS and prison guard at a satellite camp near Auschwitz. He feels both love and revulsion. The film unfolds in a non-linear fashion beginning with a middle-aged Michael in the 1995. His time with Hanna has left a hole in his heart and informed his relationships with other women. Michael is divorced with an estranged daughter. We jump back and forth from Michael’s childhood to adulthood when he later sends an imprisoned Hanna books on tape he recorded himself.
The romance between Michael and Hanna acts a parable to the feelings of the post-WWII generation of Germans trying to come to grips with the horrors of the Holocaust. Anger, guilt, the sins of the father, and all that. The Reader starts off well, but there is an almost mechanical and sterile fashion to the way it treats the subject matter. I haven’t read the novel, yet I can safely guess (as with most adaptations) that a lot of the subtext and added layers were lost in the translation. Even when Michael visits Auschwitz and walks through the barracks, it still feels like too clean like a History Channel reenactment.
Though the storytelling falls short, the acting is strong across the board. Winslet really carries the entire picture on her shoulders. She’s de-glamorized for much of the film and is buried under make-up to play the eighty year-old Hanna. However, Winslet’s performance is much more than a reliance on gimmicks. Ironically, her character is the hardest to read. Like others of her generation, larger circumstances led to her falling in with the Nazi party, but how much she shared with their ideology is never revealed. Nor do we ever fully comprehend her culpability in the deaths of her prisoners. She is the perfect microcosm for the majority of the population during that time. Though she may not have personally killed anyone, she stood by and watched. She went along with it. She was only following orders. Michael too is guilty of remaining silent. He learns of a deep kept secret of Hanna’s, one that would affect the outcome of the trial. He ultimately says nothing out of guilt and, perhaps, as a way to punish Hanna for abruptly leaving him. Ralph Fiennes gives a quiet pain to the older Michael Berg. Fiennes own subdued performance in The Duchess came off cold and cruel, here it’s tormented uncertainty. Maybe that has more to do with context than anything else.
Rating: ** 1/2
Repo!: The Genetic Opera
Repo!: The Genetic Opera - Dir. Darren Lynn Bousman (2008)
There are only two words in the English language that could describe Repo!: The Genetic Opera. One is ‘cluster’, the other rhymes with the last name of a Disney character named Donald. Repo! is a Gothic, industrial sci-fi rock opera, the by-product of Tim Burton and Baz Luhrmann. Unlike the typical musical where characters suddenly burst into song, nearly every line of dialogue (except for two or three) is sung. As such, the music of Repo! is an unrelenting barrage of industrial, pop-punk sounds.
The concept began in 2002 as a stage play written by Darren Smith and Terrence Zdunich with Darren Lynn Bousman (who helmed Saws II through IV) as director. Set sometime and somewhere in the future, humanity has suffered from an epidemic of organ failures. In the wake of these tragedies, a conglomerate known as GeneCo has risen into power, providing the population with the organs they so desperately need. The catch, however, is that should you fall behind on your payments, GeneCo will send a repo man to cut it right out of your body.
GeneCo’s CEO is Rotti Largo (Paul Sorvino), a Machiavellian King Lear who is dying from an unnamed illness. Largo has no desire to leave his technological kingdom to his three squabbling children. There’s the hot-tempered Luigi (horror movie vet Bill Moseley) who has no qualms over killing somebody just for bumping into him. Second is Pavi (Skinny Puppy frontman, Nivek Ogre) who wears a macabre mask of flesh stapled over his own scarred visage. Pavi is also the only Largo to speak with an exaggerated accent. The youngest is daughter Amber Sweet inexplicably played by Paris Hilton. Ironically, Amber is a pampered and spoiled little brat who is the poster child for GeneCo. She’s also heavily addicted to surgical procedures which have become as trendy in the future as tattoos and eyebrow piercings are today. But, this is not their story.
GeneCo’s CEO is Rotti Largo (Paul Sorvino), a Machiavellian King Lear who is dying from an unnamed illness. Largo has no desire to leave his technological kingdom to his three squabbling children. There’s the hot-tempered Luigi (horror movie vet Bill Moseley) who has no qualms over killing somebody just for bumping into him. Second is Pavi (Skinny Puppy frontman, Nivek Ogre) who wears a macabre mask of flesh stapled over his own scarred visage. Pavi is also the only Largo to speak with an exaggerated accent. The youngest is daughter Amber Sweet inexplicably played by Paris Hilton. Ironically, Amber is a pampered and spoiled little brat who is the poster child for GeneCo. She’s also heavily addicted to surgical procedures which have become as trendy in the future as tattoos and eyebrow piercings are today. But, this is not their story.
The main protagonist is, ostensibly, Shilo Wallace (Alexa Vega from Spy Kids all growed up) who suffers from a blood disease and lives under the iron fist of her overprotective father, Nathan (Anthony Stewart Head). Nathan is a doctor and widower who failed to save his wife, Marni (Sarah Power) from the same disease that’s been passed down to his daughter. Since her death, he has been forced to work for Rotti as his repo man. Rounding out the ensemble cast are Blind Mag (Sarah Brightman), a singer and spokeswoman for GeneCo with tricked out eyes that emit holograms; and the Graverobber (Zdunich), a pseudo-narrator and chorus who peddles a painkilling drug called Zydrate. The film builds to a crescendo during the climax which takes place at GeneCo’s annual celebration, the Genetic Opera, a Grand Guignol of tragic revelations and death. Just like all good operas. Oh, and Paris Hilton’s face falls off. That’s got to be worth something, right?
Yes, that is a lot to absorb. Repo! crams about a million different ideas and songs into its scant 98 minute runtime. One of the many problems with the material is the fact that nearly every character, relationship, and subplot needs a detailed explanation. Flash animated comic book panels are interspersed throughout the first act in order to catch you up to speed with everyone’s backstory. All the while your senses are being assaulted by one musical number after another.
Yes, that is a lot to absorb. Repo! crams about a million different ideas and songs into its scant 98 minute runtime. One of the many problems with the material is the fact that nearly every character, relationship, and subplot needs a detailed explanation. Flash animated comic book panels are interspersed throughout the first act in order to catch you up to speed with everyone’s backstory. All the while your senses are being assaulted by one musical number after another.
In musicals, you usually have to deal with actors who can’t sing or singers who can’t act. That’s the case here though a few of the cast can’t seem to do either. I’m sure you can guess which young hotel heiress I’m talking about. Not even the great Paul Sorvino is able to give the operatic performance demanded from his character. He might have the acting chops, but not the pipes. Only three members of the eclectic cast are able to do both. Not surprisingly, they have the best numbers. It goes without saying that Sarah Brightman, the former Mrs. Andrew Lloyd Webber (and star of his Phantom of the Opera), is a natural even when she’s buried under Goth makeup, creepy contact lenses, and a tight corset.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer fans already know Anthony Stewart Head can carry a tune as he did just that in the wonderful musical episode, "Once More with Feeling." Here, Head alternates between ultra-serious and over-the-top to convey Nathan’s devotion to his daughter as well as his own dwindling grip on sanity. Head knocks it out of the park with Bowie-esque vocals on numbers like "Legal Assassin" and "Thankless Job," the latter of which features Head using a hollowed out cadaver as a ventriloquist dummy. He also has a touching duet with Alexa Vega at the end of the film in "I Didn’t Know I’d Love You So Much." Vega also rocks out with a quick punk number called "Seventeen," which featured a dancing teddy bear and a random appearance by Joan Jett on guitar.
Repo! holds the record for the most songs in one film at 64. Not all the numbers could be considered full-fledged songs. A few are essentially bits of conversation sung. None of the songs are really all that memorable other than the ones previously mentioned. A lot of the music is just disharmonious noise on top of noise. That’s a shame as the filmmakers gathered together an equally diverse assortment of musicians to contribute to the recording. Among them are David J. and Daniel Ash from Bauhaus, Stephen Perkins from Jane’s Addiction, and Melora Greager from Rasputina.
The production design looks remarkably good for a low-budget film. The futuristic city of Repo! is like the Los Angeles of Blade Runner if it was built by Anton Furst. However, it’s hard to admire the sets when the film is lit with some God-awful soft lighting. Every character is enveloped by a ghostly glow as if they were getting ready for a cheesecake boudoir photoshoot. It’s not at all flattering and doesn’t fit with the grimy, gritty world that was created.
Repo!: The Genetic Opera is a stark contrast to recent musicals such as Hairspray and Mamma Mia Where High School Musical appealed to the Disney Channel/Abercrombie & Fitch crowd, Repo! panders to the clientele of Hot Topic. But, it’s standing as a dark tour de force is supplanted by the far superior, Sweeney Todd. Repo! might have seemed like a cool idea on paper, but the execution and final product are a mess.
The film screams, ‘cult classic,’ and isn’t going after a mainstream audience. Repo! was originally released on November 7 and only in eight theaters. A small, but loyal band of fans have convinced Lionsgate to screen the movie on a pair of touring, midnight road shows. That’s the audience the filmmakers are hoping to target. Much like Rocky Horror Picture Show, Repo! is only for the midnight crowds who show up dressed in costume and ready to sing along. It will likely gain a devoted following, but probably won’t match the staying power of Rocky Horror, Over thirty years later, Brad, Janet, and Dr. Frank N. Furter are still packing them in, but one can’t picture folks dressing up like Amber Sweet or Blind Mag in the future.
Rating: * 1/2
Friday, January 9, 2009
Wendy and Lucy
Wendy and Lucy - Dir. Kelly Reichardt (2008)
” You can’t get an address without an address. You can’t get a job without a job. The whole system is fixed.”
Cutting right to the chase, Wendy and Lucy is easily one of the best films of 2008. With a budget of $300,000 and a scant runtime of 80 minutes, Wendy and Lucy still rings more truth and emotion than films with three times the length and thirty times the budget.
Wendy (Michelle Williams) embarks on a journey to Alaska in hopes of finding work in the fishing canneries. Wendy only has a couple hundred bucks in her pocket and her faithful dog, Lucy, in tow. The trip takes a turn for the worse when her beat-up Honda breaks down in a small town in Oregon. Living off the grid, Wendy has no cell phone or credit card and her meager funds are dwindled by one bad break after another. A mechanic (Will Patton) charges her $30 to tow her car to his garage even though it’s parked right by the curb. Wendy gets caught shoplifting and hauled down to the police station; leaving Lucy tied in front of the grocery store. After paying a $50 fine, Wendy returns to find Lucy gone and spends the next couple days searching for her. Wendy finds one kind soul in a security guard (Wally Dalton) who works the beat at a Walgreen’s parking lot.
Wendy and Lucy is a less-romanticized version of Into the Wild and an ideal example of minimalist filmmaking. Writer/Director Kelly Reichardt stays away from extraneous trappings to cut right to the heart and gives us a modern American answer to Vittorio Di Sica’s Bicycle Thieves. Originally intended as a comment on post-Katrina America, Reichardt manages to create a timely picture that sums up the current economical turmoil. This is the struggle of the people who have slipped through the cracks of today’s society.
Reichardt is unobtrusive with the camera and paints a melancholy picture of small-town life. She lets the camera linger from a distance in the film’s opening shot where Wendy plays fetch with Lucy in the woods. The film’s score is a simple tune written by Will Oldham (who makes a cameo appearance) that is hummed periodically by Michelle Williams. She cements her status as one of the best young actresses working today. Yes, she goes through the process of de-glamorizing that Oscar voters always love. She slept in her car and didn’t wash her hair or shave her legs for two weeks. But, her performance is more than just a greasy hairdo. It is a touching and painful turn. Most importantly, it feels real.
Some will argue that we aren’t ever given a firm reason as to who Wendy is and why she is making this journey. But, why should every movie spell every little detail out for you? Wendy and Lucy is essentially the second act in the life of Wendy and Lucy. We don’t know what happened before and we won’t know what happens to them after. Much like the townsfolk she runs into, we only meet Wendy during the middle of her passage. That’s more than enough for me.
In Wendy and Lucy, Wendy faces something far worse than cruelty, indifference. The film accentuates the importance of how our tiniest actions can have tremendous impact on the lives of strangers. This is a must-see film that is well worth less than an hour and a half of your time.
Rating: ****
” You can’t get an address without an address. You can’t get a job without a job. The whole system is fixed.”
Cutting right to the chase, Wendy and Lucy is easily one of the best films of 2008. With a budget of $300,000 and a scant runtime of 80 minutes, Wendy and Lucy still rings more truth and emotion than films with three times the length and thirty times the budget.
Wendy (Michelle Williams) embarks on a journey to Alaska in hopes of finding work in the fishing canneries. Wendy only has a couple hundred bucks in her pocket and her faithful dog, Lucy, in tow. The trip takes a turn for the worse when her beat-up Honda breaks down in a small town in Oregon. Living off the grid, Wendy has no cell phone or credit card and her meager funds are dwindled by one bad break after another. A mechanic (Will Patton) charges her $30 to tow her car to his garage even though it’s parked right by the curb. Wendy gets caught shoplifting and hauled down to the police station; leaving Lucy tied in front of the grocery store. After paying a $50 fine, Wendy returns to find Lucy gone and spends the next couple days searching for her. Wendy finds one kind soul in a security guard (Wally Dalton) who works the beat at a Walgreen’s parking lot.
Wendy and Lucy is a less-romanticized version of Into the Wild and an ideal example of minimalist filmmaking. Writer/Director Kelly Reichardt stays away from extraneous trappings to cut right to the heart and gives us a modern American answer to Vittorio Di Sica’s Bicycle Thieves. Originally intended as a comment on post-Katrina America, Reichardt manages to create a timely picture that sums up the current economical turmoil. This is the struggle of the people who have slipped through the cracks of today’s society.
Reichardt is unobtrusive with the camera and paints a melancholy picture of small-town life. She lets the camera linger from a distance in the film’s opening shot where Wendy plays fetch with Lucy in the woods. The film’s score is a simple tune written by Will Oldham (who makes a cameo appearance) that is hummed periodically by Michelle Williams. She cements her status as one of the best young actresses working today. Yes, she goes through the process of de-glamorizing that Oscar voters always love. She slept in her car and didn’t wash her hair or shave her legs for two weeks. But, her performance is more than just a greasy hairdo. It is a touching and painful turn. Most importantly, it feels real.
Some will argue that we aren’t ever given a firm reason as to who Wendy is and why she is making this journey. But, why should every movie spell every little detail out for you? Wendy and Lucy is essentially the second act in the life of Wendy and Lucy. We don’t know what happened before and we won’t know what happens to them after. Much like the townsfolk she runs into, we only meet Wendy during the middle of her passage. That’s more than enough for me.
In Wendy and Lucy, Wendy faces something far worse than cruelty, indifference. The film accentuates the importance of how our tiniest actions can have tremendous impact on the lives of strangers. This is a must-see film that is well worth less than an hour and a half of your time.
Rating: ****
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Frost/Nixon
Frost/Nixon - Dir. Ron Howard (2008)
”I’m saying that if the President does it that means it’s not illegal.”
Just like Doubt, Frost/Nixon is an adaptation of a well-received stage play and much like W., the film takes a controversial president and breaks him down into a sympathetic figure overwhelmed by the power he fought so hard to gain. Writer Peter Morgan adapted his play for the big screen himself. Frost/Nixon focuses on the behind-the-scenes happenings that went on during the nearly 30 hour filming of an interview between Richard Nixon (Frank Langella) and television personality, David Frost (Michael Sheen).
What transpires is an intellectual battle for supremacy. Once a serious journalist, Frost is now relegated to doing little-seen, fluff pieces. Nixon, still shattered by the Watergate scandal, is looking for a way back into the political circles he had been ostracized from. Two men seeking a career resurrection that only one can achieve. Nixon and his camp see Frost as a pushover and agree to the interviews to the cool sum of $600,000 plus 10% of the profits. Meanwhile, Frost assembles his own team of researchers in order to ask the former president the hard questions. However, when the two finally sit down, Nixon runs circles around the interviewer. Frost has been spread thin by financial issues and the constant rejection by network execs and advertisers. Anytime the man tries to drop a bombshell (the Watergate tapes, Cambodia) on President Nixon, he evades the questions with long-winded, rambling stories that eat up huge chunks of time. It is only during the final interview session (after being drunk dialed by Nixon) that Frost hunkers down in an effort to finally nail Tricky Dick on Watergate and the subsequent cover-up.
Unlike Doubt, Ron Howard manages to expand on the source material into a fully realized cinematic experience and not just a talking heads picture. Howard, not exactly known as a visually stimulating director, faithfully recreates the look and color palette of the 70’s. He fills the frame with Nixon’s hulking, hunched-over body playing into his larger-than-life personality. At the same time, he’s pressed against the edges, uncomfortable in his own skin.
Langella is certainly getting the lion’s share of credit for his portrayal of our 37th president. His performance avoids the pratfalls of mere SNL impersonation. Langella conveys Nixon from raw rage to bittersweet confession (”"You have no idea how fortunate that makes you: liking people and being liked.”) while giving us a glimpse of a sly wit Nixon wasn’t readily known for. Both Langella and co-star Michael Sheen reprised their stage role. Sheen brings the same smug, self-assuredness that he did as Tony Blair in The Deal and The Queen, also written by Morgan. The supporting cast each get their own chance to shine for the brief moments they are on-screen. Of particular note are the always-entertaining Sam Rockwell as James Reston Jr., Frost’s lead researcher (and biggest anti-Nixon proponent); the beautiful Rebecca Hall as Frost’s glamorous girlfriend, Caroline Cushing; and Kevin Bacon as the straight-laced ex-Marine who acts as Nixon’s right-hand man and confidant. Not faring so well is Toby Jones, a fine actor who can’t seem to hit the right notes in recent bio-pics. He made a great Truman Capote in Infamous, but his Karl Rove in W. was lacking and his Swifty Lazar (the high-powered talent agent) here is hampered by an unconvincing accent.
Rating: *** 1/2
”I’m saying that if the President does it that means it’s not illegal.”
Just like Doubt, Frost/Nixon is an adaptation of a well-received stage play and much like W., the film takes a controversial president and breaks him down into a sympathetic figure overwhelmed by the power he fought so hard to gain. Writer Peter Morgan adapted his play for the big screen himself. Frost/Nixon focuses on the behind-the-scenes happenings that went on during the nearly 30 hour filming of an interview between Richard Nixon (Frank Langella) and television personality, David Frost (Michael Sheen).
What transpires is an intellectual battle for supremacy. Once a serious journalist, Frost is now relegated to doing little-seen, fluff pieces. Nixon, still shattered by the Watergate scandal, is looking for a way back into the political circles he had been ostracized from. Two men seeking a career resurrection that only one can achieve. Nixon and his camp see Frost as a pushover and agree to the interviews to the cool sum of $600,000 plus 10% of the profits. Meanwhile, Frost assembles his own team of researchers in order to ask the former president the hard questions. However, when the two finally sit down, Nixon runs circles around the interviewer. Frost has been spread thin by financial issues and the constant rejection by network execs and advertisers. Anytime the man tries to drop a bombshell (the Watergate tapes, Cambodia) on President Nixon, he evades the questions with long-winded, rambling stories that eat up huge chunks of time. It is only during the final interview session (after being drunk dialed by Nixon) that Frost hunkers down in an effort to finally nail Tricky Dick on Watergate and the subsequent cover-up.
Unlike Doubt, Ron Howard manages to expand on the source material into a fully realized cinematic experience and not just a talking heads picture. Howard, not exactly known as a visually stimulating director, faithfully recreates the look and color palette of the 70’s. He fills the frame with Nixon’s hulking, hunched-over body playing into his larger-than-life personality. At the same time, he’s pressed against the edges, uncomfortable in his own skin.
Langella is certainly getting the lion’s share of credit for his portrayal of our 37th president. His performance avoids the pratfalls of mere SNL impersonation. Langella conveys Nixon from raw rage to bittersweet confession (”"You have no idea how fortunate that makes you: liking people and being liked.”) while giving us a glimpse of a sly wit Nixon wasn’t readily known for. Both Langella and co-star Michael Sheen reprised their stage role. Sheen brings the same smug, self-assuredness that he did as Tony Blair in The Deal and The Queen, also written by Morgan. The supporting cast each get their own chance to shine for the brief moments they are on-screen. Of particular note are the always-entertaining Sam Rockwell as James Reston Jr., Frost’s lead researcher (and biggest anti-Nixon proponent); the beautiful Rebecca Hall as Frost’s glamorous girlfriend, Caroline Cushing; and Kevin Bacon as the straight-laced ex-Marine who acts as Nixon’s right-hand man and confidant. Not faring so well is Toby Jones, a fine actor who can’t seem to hit the right notes in recent bio-pics. He made a great Truman Capote in Infamous, but his Karl Rove in W. was lacking and his Swifty Lazar (the high-powered talent agent) here is hampered by an unconvincing accent.
Rating: *** 1/2
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Doubt
Doubt - Dir. John Patrick Shanley (2008)
” I will do what needs to be done, though I'm damned to Hell! You should understand that, or you will mistake me.”
Playwright John Patrick Shanley has had much success in the theater world. However, success in Hollywood had been middling, at best. Shanley won an Oscar for his first screenplay, Moonstruck, but he hasn’t been able to catch lightning in a bottle again. After a pair of forgettable films, Shanley made his debut as a director with Joe Versus the Volcano, a movie synonymous with the term, box office bomb. Shanley didn’t direct again for over a decade and a half though did (mind-bogglingly) write the adaptation of Congo. Shanley once again steps into the director’s chair for the film version of his Pulitzer and Tony-winning play, Doubt.
Doubt takes place at a Catholic school in the Bronx during the mid-60’s. The country is in the midst of massive change and the Vatican Church prepares to act accordingly. Father Flynn (Philip Seymour Hoffman) is looking to enact some sort of progress under the guise of the Vatican II movement. Meanwhile the school’s principal and head nun, the stern Sister Aloysius (Meryl Streep), clings to the stodgy traditions that have been the norm all her life. Sister Aloysius isn’t above smacking a kid in the back of the head. She thinks ball point pens will destroy an entire generation’s penmanship. She feels “Frosty the Snowman” is a song that promotes pagan rituals. When Sister Aloysius lets her thoughts about a magical snowman be known, Father Flynn snidely reveals the topic for his next sermon, ‘intolerance.’
Trapped in the middle of this conflict is the young sister James (Amy Adams). Sister Aloysius takes Sister James under her wing, giving advice on how to handle her unruly students. She also asks that Sister James keep her eye on Father Flynn. There’s something that’s just not right about him. Thus the seed is planted and Sister James believes that there is something suspicious about the relationship between Father Flynn and the school’s first and only black student, Donald Miller (Joseph Foster).
The film isn’t about truth, but the hazy gray area of ambiguity. There’s no evidence at all of impropriety and Shanley manages to avoid pointing the audience towards guilty or innocent. The words ‘pedophilia’ and ‘molestation’ are never uttered. What Shanley isn’t able to do is translate his play into a full cinematic experience. To his credit, Doubt isn’t overly stage-y, but Shanley tries too hard in certain moments to visually expand the film. His allusions are a bit too obvious. Strong winds and rain, a cat catching a mouse, etc. In one sequence, we watch the nuns have a modest, quiet, and orderly dinner before we cut to the priests laughing loudly at dirty jokes while drinking wine and cutting into blood red meat. Shanley also tries to spice his composition up with several ill-advised tilted angles.
Doubt is essentially an actor’s showcase and everybody brings it. In particular, there is the commanding presence of Meryl Streep who has mastered the icy cold exterior and biting wit of Sister Aloysius. And nobody does wide-eyed, white bread, naiveté than Amy Adams. The film hits a left turn when Viola Davis steps in as Donald Miller’s mother. She only has a small part, but her scenes with Streep are the film’s most pivotal moments.
Rating: ***
” I will do what needs to be done, though I'm damned to Hell! You should understand that, or you will mistake me.”
Playwright John Patrick Shanley has had much success in the theater world. However, success in Hollywood had been middling, at best. Shanley won an Oscar for his first screenplay, Moonstruck, but he hasn’t been able to catch lightning in a bottle again. After a pair of forgettable films, Shanley made his debut as a director with Joe Versus the Volcano, a movie synonymous with the term, box office bomb. Shanley didn’t direct again for over a decade and a half though did (mind-bogglingly) write the adaptation of Congo. Shanley once again steps into the director’s chair for the film version of his Pulitzer and Tony-winning play, Doubt.
Doubt takes place at a Catholic school in the Bronx during the mid-60’s. The country is in the midst of massive change and the Vatican Church prepares to act accordingly. Father Flynn (Philip Seymour Hoffman) is looking to enact some sort of progress under the guise of the Vatican II movement. Meanwhile the school’s principal and head nun, the stern Sister Aloysius (Meryl Streep), clings to the stodgy traditions that have been the norm all her life. Sister Aloysius isn’t above smacking a kid in the back of the head. She thinks ball point pens will destroy an entire generation’s penmanship. She feels “Frosty the Snowman” is a song that promotes pagan rituals. When Sister Aloysius lets her thoughts about a magical snowman be known, Father Flynn snidely reveals the topic for his next sermon, ‘intolerance.’
Trapped in the middle of this conflict is the young sister James (Amy Adams). Sister Aloysius takes Sister James under her wing, giving advice on how to handle her unruly students. She also asks that Sister James keep her eye on Father Flynn. There’s something that’s just not right about him. Thus the seed is planted and Sister James believes that there is something suspicious about the relationship between Father Flynn and the school’s first and only black student, Donald Miller (Joseph Foster).
The film isn’t about truth, but the hazy gray area of ambiguity. There’s no evidence at all of impropriety and Shanley manages to avoid pointing the audience towards guilty or innocent. The words ‘pedophilia’ and ‘molestation’ are never uttered. What Shanley isn’t able to do is translate his play into a full cinematic experience. To his credit, Doubt isn’t overly stage-y, but Shanley tries too hard in certain moments to visually expand the film. His allusions are a bit too obvious. Strong winds and rain, a cat catching a mouse, etc. In one sequence, we watch the nuns have a modest, quiet, and orderly dinner before we cut to the priests laughing loudly at dirty jokes while drinking wine and cutting into blood red meat. Shanley also tries to spice his composition up with several ill-advised tilted angles.
Doubt is essentially an actor’s showcase and everybody brings it. In particular, there is the commanding presence of Meryl Streep who has mastered the icy cold exterior and biting wit of Sister Aloysius. And nobody does wide-eyed, white bread, naiveté than Amy Adams. The film hits a left turn when Viola Davis steps in as Donald Miller’s mother. She only has a small part, but her scenes with Streep are the film’s most pivotal moments.
Rating: ***
Sunday, January 4, 2009
The Spirit
The Spirit - Dir. Frank Miller (2008)
I wouldn´t presume to know what the late-Will Eisner would think of Frank Miller´s adaptation of his most renowned character. Suffice to say, I´d wager he might have the same befuddled expression on his face as I did as this bizarre concoction unfolded across the screen at my local multiplex.
Eisner is widely considered to be one of the pioneers of the comic book medium. The Spirit began life in 1940 as a Sunday newspaper comic strip. It was part-film noir, part-adventure with dark and lighthearted moments throughout its run. Eisner never dumbed down his creation, aiming for an adult audience. He revolutionized comic composition by freeing the strip from the confines of the typical panels used by other cartoonists. Eisner even coined the term ´graphic novel´ (used so frequently nowadays) to describe his semi-autobiographical book, A Contract with God.
Comic book fans know Frank Miller best for his magnum opus, The Dark Knight Returns, which many list as one of the greatest comics ever written and is mentioned in the same breath as the equally heralded Watchmen (which was released the same year). Miller´s work on Daredevil was largely the basis for the character´s much-maligned feature film while his Batman: Year One was certainly influential on Batman Begins. After a poor experience writing the scripts for Robocop sequels, Miller personally stayed away from Hollywood until Robert Rodriguez called to co-direct the big-screen adaptation of Sin City. Hot on its heels, Miller´s 300 was faithfully recreated by Watchmen director Zack Snyder and met with equal success. So it was only a matter of time before somebody gave Miller a chance to go solo.
Miller considered Eisner a friend and mentor. Conversations between the pair were published in Eisner/Miller, a comic book equivalent to Hitchcock/Truffaut. Miller took on the daunting task of bringing the Spirit to life mostly because he didn´t want somebody else ruining the character. A previous version filmed for television in 1987 was so bad it made Eisner´s "toes curl." From then on, Eisner was staunch in his refusal to allow anyone else to do it again. He rejected proposals to give the titular character superpowers or put him in superhero tights. Miller vowed to remain faithful and was even going to title the film, "Will Eisner´s The Spirit." I have no idea what changed his mind, but this is "Frank Miller´s The Spirit" all the way.
Our hero, played by Gabriel Macht, is Denny Colt, a beat cop who is gunned down, but somehow comes back to life. In the comics, Colt allowed everyone to still believe he was dead and adopted the alter-ego of the Spirit. He put on a blue three-piece suit, matching fedora, and a domino mask in order to fight crime in Central City. His origin remains mostly the same except he wears all black with a blood red tie. The Spirit´s arch-enemy is the Octopus, a mysterious crime boss whose face was never revealed in the strips. He was only recognized by a pair of purple gloves with yellow stripes. Here, he´s Samuel L. Jackson who wears a variety of outlandish outfits in his attempts to conquer the world. He constantly talks about eggs for some reason. Don´t ask. Oh, have I mentioned both men are invincible? Through some sort of cockamamie science project, the Spirit and the Octopus are rendered virtually indestructible. This is evidenced at the start of the film when the two engage in a one-on-one fistfight that´s usually saved for the climax. It isn´t just a fight, but a Looney Tunes horror show as the Spirit punches the Octopus in the face about two dozen times to no effect. They smash each other with several large objects including (literally) the kitchen sink. The battle culminates in the Octopus braining the Spirit with a toilet, then gleefully cackles, "C´mon, toilets are ALWAYS funny!"
This one fight largely sums up just about everything that is wrong with this picture. First off, any sort of suspense the audience might have is killed off because we know neither lead can be. Uh-oh, the Spirit just got pushed out a window. No worries, he can´t be killed. He just got stabbed with a sword? Riddled by a machine gun? The Spirit just shakes it off. Secondly, the fight runs far too long and the same can be said for the majority of the film. Some people love to hear the sound of their own voice. Frank Miller seems to be a man who loves to hear actors speak his lines. He packs in tons of dialogue leading to an overly talky film. Scenes and conversations go on and on with no point whatsoever. One minute, the Spirit is delivering a gruff, hard-boiled voice-over in the vein of Raymond Chandler, the next, he´s bantering with his colleagues in the style of a screwball comedy. Miller never seems to make up his mind whether he wants The Spirit to be a dark film noir, a frothy adventure or a campy comedy.
The film´s most infamous moment comes when the Spirit is captured and tied to a dentist´s chair, ready for torture. The Octopus emerges from behind a red curtain dressed in a Nazi officer´s uniform replete with monocle. There´s Nazi paraphernalia everywhere and the set looks like a commedia dell´arte remake of Triumph of the Will. It´s almost amusing in a WTF kind of way, but Miller drags the proceedings beyond the point of tolerance as the Octopus commits the cardinal super-villain sin. He monologues. Yes, this is the point in the movie where the bad guy reveals his origins and his detailed plans for world domination. I kept waiting for those folks from Monty Python and the Holy Grail to show up and scream, "Get on with it!" Ironically, the Spirit remarks that he's just plain "bored" by his nemesis. So am I, Spirit. So am I.
The crux of the story revolves around the Octopus´s endeavors to acquire the Blood of Herakles which will complete his transformation to immortality. By the time it´s all revealed, the audience has long since stopped caring. At least, there´s plenty of eye candy for the men. Miller has shown he has a strong predilection for sultry vixens and he makes sure there´s a wide assortment of beautiful ladies, each one falling head over heels for the masked protagonist. At the head of the class is Sand Saref (Eva Mendes), a world-class thief and the childhood sweetheart of the Spirit. However, the Spirit´s heart seems to belong to Ellen Dolan (Sarah Paulson), a doctor and daughter of the police commissioner (Dan Lauria). She´s the only good girl in the film. There´s Morgenstern (Stana Katic), an eager and earnest rookie cop. Working for the other side of the law are the Octopus´s girl Friday, Silken Floss (Scarlett Johansson), and a dagger throwing belly dancer assassin named Plaster of Paris (Paz Vega). Finally, Jaime King appears in several interludes as the spectral siren, Lorelei Rox.
The ensemble cast also includes an army of dim-witted clones (each played by Louis Lombardi) who serve as the Octopus´s henchmen. These goofs are like something out of Batman. I'm not talking about the Christopher Nolan version or the Tim Burton incarnation, but the cartoonish Adam West series. Remember when the Joker would show up with goons adorned in black shirts with names like ´Tee-Hee,´ ´Ha-Ha,´ and ´Ho-Ho´? Well, these guys have names like ´Phobos,´ ´Nervos,´ and even ´Huevos´ and ´Rancheros.´ I´d call them comic relief, except I didn´t find them to be funny at all.
Miller uses the same green screen techniques from Sin City to create a stylish world cut from the same cloth. He highlights bright colors, such as red, and sprinkles in silhouette shots. Taken individually, they look great, but there´s no flow from scene to scene, especially during action sequences. It looks like they strung together a bunch of comic book panels without bothering to create transitions in between.
The acting is all over the place. Some actors seem to take the film seriously while others just ham it up. Jackson chews through his scenes like a piranha and normally that´s entertaining enough, but (just like his director) he´s just far too excessive for his own good and working with such flat dialogue didn´t help. As the lead, Macht is far too bland to really be effective as the square-jawed hero. Sarah Paulson is the only actor in the entire movie that plays their character as an actual human being.
2008 was a big year for comic book films. They started out strong then fizzled out as time progressed. Iron Man and The Dark Knight were both faithful translations and did gangbusters at the box office. Wanted wasn't quite as faithful to the source material, but was still a fun action flick. By year´s end, fanboys only got lackluster efforts like Punisher: War Zone and The Spirit.
I would have been fine with Frank Miller turning The Spirit into a spin-off of Sin City. It wouldn't have bothered me too much if he decided to do the movie as a tongue-in-cheek camp cartoon. I just wished Miller would have made up his mind. The Spirit suffers from an inconsistent tone and a complete lack of direction. The film goes nowhere fast and comes off as a self-indulgent exercise of unrestrained lunacy.
Rating: * 1/2
I wouldn´t presume to know what the late-Will Eisner would think of Frank Miller´s adaptation of his most renowned character. Suffice to say, I´d wager he might have the same befuddled expression on his face as I did as this bizarre concoction unfolded across the screen at my local multiplex.
Eisner is widely considered to be one of the pioneers of the comic book medium. The Spirit began life in 1940 as a Sunday newspaper comic strip. It was part-film noir, part-adventure with dark and lighthearted moments throughout its run. Eisner never dumbed down his creation, aiming for an adult audience. He revolutionized comic composition by freeing the strip from the confines of the typical panels used by other cartoonists. Eisner even coined the term ´graphic novel´ (used so frequently nowadays) to describe his semi-autobiographical book, A Contract with God.
Comic book fans know Frank Miller best for his magnum opus, The Dark Knight Returns, which many list as one of the greatest comics ever written and is mentioned in the same breath as the equally heralded Watchmen (which was released the same year). Miller´s work on Daredevil was largely the basis for the character´s much-maligned feature film while his Batman: Year One was certainly influential on Batman Begins. After a poor experience writing the scripts for Robocop sequels, Miller personally stayed away from Hollywood until Robert Rodriguez called to co-direct the big-screen adaptation of Sin City. Hot on its heels, Miller´s 300 was faithfully recreated by Watchmen director Zack Snyder and met with equal success. So it was only a matter of time before somebody gave Miller a chance to go solo.
Miller considered Eisner a friend and mentor. Conversations between the pair were published in Eisner/Miller, a comic book equivalent to Hitchcock/Truffaut. Miller took on the daunting task of bringing the Spirit to life mostly because he didn´t want somebody else ruining the character. A previous version filmed for television in 1987 was so bad it made Eisner´s "toes curl." From then on, Eisner was staunch in his refusal to allow anyone else to do it again. He rejected proposals to give the titular character superpowers or put him in superhero tights. Miller vowed to remain faithful and was even going to title the film, "Will Eisner´s The Spirit." I have no idea what changed his mind, but this is "Frank Miller´s The Spirit" all the way.
Our hero, played by Gabriel Macht, is Denny Colt, a beat cop who is gunned down, but somehow comes back to life. In the comics, Colt allowed everyone to still believe he was dead and adopted the alter-ego of the Spirit. He put on a blue three-piece suit, matching fedora, and a domino mask in order to fight crime in Central City. His origin remains mostly the same except he wears all black with a blood red tie. The Spirit´s arch-enemy is the Octopus, a mysterious crime boss whose face was never revealed in the strips. He was only recognized by a pair of purple gloves with yellow stripes. Here, he´s Samuel L. Jackson who wears a variety of outlandish outfits in his attempts to conquer the world. He constantly talks about eggs for some reason. Don´t ask. Oh, have I mentioned both men are invincible? Through some sort of cockamamie science project, the Spirit and the Octopus are rendered virtually indestructible. This is evidenced at the start of the film when the two engage in a one-on-one fistfight that´s usually saved for the climax. It isn´t just a fight, but a Looney Tunes horror show as the Spirit punches the Octopus in the face about two dozen times to no effect. They smash each other with several large objects including (literally) the kitchen sink. The battle culminates in the Octopus braining the Spirit with a toilet, then gleefully cackles, "C´mon, toilets are ALWAYS funny!"
This one fight largely sums up just about everything that is wrong with this picture. First off, any sort of suspense the audience might have is killed off because we know neither lead can be. Uh-oh, the Spirit just got pushed out a window. No worries, he can´t be killed. He just got stabbed with a sword? Riddled by a machine gun? The Spirit just shakes it off. Secondly, the fight runs far too long and the same can be said for the majority of the film. Some people love to hear the sound of their own voice. Frank Miller seems to be a man who loves to hear actors speak his lines. He packs in tons of dialogue leading to an overly talky film. Scenes and conversations go on and on with no point whatsoever. One minute, the Spirit is delivering a gruff, hard-boiled voice-over in the vein of Raymond Chandler, the next, he´s bantering with his colleagues in the style of a screwball comedy. Miller never seems to make up his mind whether he wants The Spirit to be a dark film noir, a frothy adventure or a campy comedy.
The film´s most infamous moment comes when the Spirit is captured and tied to a dentist´s chair, ready for torture. The Octopus emerges from behind a red curtain dressed in a Nazi officer´s uniform replete with monocle. There´s Nazi paraphernalia everywhere and the set looks like a commedia dell´arte remake of Triumph of the Will. It´s almost amusing in a WTF kind of way, but Miller drags the proceedings beyond the point of tolerance as the Octopus commits the cardinal super-villain sin. He monologues. Yes, this is the point in the movie where the bad guy reveals his origins and his detailed plans for world domination. I kept waiting for those folks from Monty Python and the Holy Grail to show up and scream, "Get on with it!" Ironically, the Spirit remarks that he's just plain "bored" by his nemesis. So am I, Spirit. So am I.
The crux of the story revolves around the Octopus´s endeavors to acquire the Blood of Herakles which will complete his transformation to immortality. By the time it´s all revealed, the audience has long since stopped caring. At least, there´s plenty of eye candy for the men. Miller has shown he has a strong predilection for sultry vixens and he makes sure there´s a wide assortment of beautiful ladies, each one falling head over heels for the masked protagonist. At the head of the class is Sand Saref (Eva Mendes), a world-class thief and the childhood sweetheart of the Spirit. However, the Spirit´s heart seems to belong to Ellen Dolan (Sarah Paulson), a doctor and daughter of the police commissioner (Dan Lauria). She´s the only good girl in the film. There´s Morgenstern (Stana Katic), an eager and earnest rookie cop. Working for the other side of the law are the Octopus´s girl Friday, Silken Floss (Scarlett Johansson), and a dagger throwing belly dancer assassin named Plaster of Paris (Paz Vega). Finally, Jaime King appears in several interludes as the spectral siren, Lorelei Rox.
The ensemble cast also includes an army of dim-witted clones (each played by Louis Lombardi) who serve as the Octopus´s henchmen. These goofs are like something out of Batman. I'm not talking about the Christopher Nolan version or the Tim Burton incarnation, but the cartoonish Adam West series. Remember when the Joker would show up with goons adorned in black shirts with names like ´Tee-Hee,´ ´Ha-Ha,´ and ´Ho-Ho´? Well, these guys have names like ´Phobos,´ ´Nervos,´ and even ´Huevos´ and ´Rancheros.´ I´d call them comic relief, except I didn´t find them to be funny at all.
Miller uses the same green screen techniques from Sin City to create a stylish world cut from the same cloth. He highlights bright colors, such as red, and sprinkles in silhouette shots. Taken individually, they look great, but there´s no flow from scene to scene, especially during action sequences. It looks like they strung together a bunch of comic book panels without bothering to create transitions in between.
The acting is all over the place. Some actors seem to take the film seriously while others just ham it up. Jackson chews through his scenes like a piranha and normally that´s entertaining enough, but (just like his director) he´s just far too excessive for his own good and working with such flat dialogue didn´t help. As the lead, Macht is far too bland to really be effective as the square-jawed hero. Sarah Paulson is the only actor in the entire movie that plays their character as an actual human being.
2008 was a big year for comic book films. They started out strong then fizzled out as time progressed. Iron Man and The Dark Knight were both faithful translations and did gangbusters at the box office. Wanted wasn't quite as faithful to the source material, but was still a fun action flick. By year´s end, fanboys only got lackluster efforts like Punisher: War Zone and The Spirit.
I would have been fine with Frank Miller turning The Spirit into a spin-off of Sin City. It wouldn't have bothered me too much if he decided to do the movie as a tongue-in-cheek camp cartoon. I just wished Miller would have made up his mind. The Spirit suffers from an inconsistent tone and a complete lack of direction. The film goes nowhere fast and comes off as a self-indulgent exercise of unrestrained lunacy.
Rating: * 1/2
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