Showing posts with label Allison Janney. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Allison Janney. Show all posts

Sunday, January 11, 2015

Get on Up

Get on Up - Dir. Tate Taylor (2014)


It's too bad Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story didn't make more of a cultural impact. The Judd Apatow-produced parody lampooned the staid conventions of the music biopic as seen in films like Walk the Line and Ray. Walk Hard should have blown up the biopic the way Austin Powers tore down the spy genre. While nobody makes a spy movie in the campy style of the old school Bonds, the standard formula for the music biopic still remains.

The story generally begins with the subject, in his old age, preparing for a major concert and reflecting on his entire life. This is followed by flashbacks of all their highs and lows. Get on Up starts off true to formula with an elderly James Brown (Chadwick Boseman) walking alone down a solemnly lit corridor. The muffled roar of an excited crowd is the only accompaniment to his footsteps. Brown is ready to look back on his life. Surprisingly, Get on Up doesn't go directly to Brown's childhood, but one of his lowest points. In 1993, a drug-addled Brown accidentally discharges a shotgun while berating the unsuspecting attendees of a seminar after someone used his private bathroom. He'd eventually lead police on a high speed chase before spending three years in prison.

From there, Get on Up unfolds in a non-chronological fashion almost as if it were a greatest hits album, except not everything was a chart topper. We see glimpses of Brown as an impoverished child (played by twins Jamarion and Jordan Scott) living in a ramshackle homestead with an abusive father (Lennie James) and a mother (Viola Davis) who abandoned him at a young age. In a disturbing sight, Brown is amongst a group of black boys who are blindfolded and forced to box in a battle royal at a white country club's charity event.

Brown rose from these humble beginnings to worldwide fame as the Godfather of Soul. He upstaged the Rolling Stones in 1964 at The T.A.M.I. Show, strutting offstage and boldly challenging Mick Jagger to top him. Of course, Brown would be a big influence on the Stones frontman to the point where Jagger is actually a producer for Get on Up. Brown performed in front of troops during Vietnam, despite his cargo plane nearly being shot down, and he calmed an angry crowd at Boston Garden the night after Martin Luther King's assassination.

The Hardest Working Man in Show Business would hit his dark patches as well, but you'd hardly know it judging by the film. Brown's problems with drug addiction and domestic abuse are dealt with in the most perfunctory manner. Only one scene a piece is devoted to these issues. Still, Get on Up could hardly be considered hagiographic as Brown's ego and financial blunders are attributed to driving a wedge between he and his fellow musicians.

Get on Up was written by Jez and John-Henry Butterworth, the brothers who knocked it out of the park with Edge of Tomorrow. The Butterworths made a smart move by shuffling the events to make the movie stand out. Otherwise, taken chronologically, this is a typical biopic that attempts to encapsulate an entire life into two hours. There's also a slightly surreal touch, a surprising element given that the director is Tate Taylor, who presented racism in a mainstream multiplex manner with The Help. In a recreation of the Frankie Avalon picture Ski Party, Brown performs "I Got You (I Feel Good)" in an ugly Christmas sweater and surrounded by smiling, plastic faces. The action slows down as Brown laments that he's trapped in a "honky hoedown."  On occasion, Brown breaks the fourth wall and addresses the camera with the payoff being a shamed man who cannot look the audience in the eye after striking his wife.

Chadwick Boseman had a star making turn as Jackie Robinson in 42 and he was reluctant to tackle yet another true-life story. Luckily, Boseman had a change of heart. This is a complete 180 from the stoic Robinson. As Brown, Boseman goes beyond mere mimicry. He captures the electrifying presence of Mr. Dynamite and seamlessly performs all of his fleet footed dance moves. The understated Nelsan Ellis serves as a counterpoint to the outlandish Brown as his best friend Bobby Byrd. The long-suffering pal stood by Brown's side for decades until their falling out. Although, she's only in a handful of scenes, Viola Davis blows everyone away as the estranged mother Susie Brown. Her uneasy reunion with her son is the most powerful scene in the film.

Get on Up doesn't do much to defy the tired conventions of the musical biopic. However, the film is able to rocket up the charts courtesy of a stellar performance by Chadwick Boseman. This is an enjoyable picture, just not one you should go out of your way to see.


Rating: ** (*****)

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Bad Words

Bad Words - Dir. Jason Bateman (2014)


While he's directed episodes of several television series, Jason Bateman hasn't helmed a feature film until Bad Words, a subversive comedy set in the world of spelling bees. This is assuredly not a documentary in the vein of Spellbound or a feel-good drama ala Akeelah and the Bee.

Bateman is Guy Trilby, a 40-year old misanthrope who enters the Golden Quill, a national spelling tournament for children. It turns out Guy never finished junior high and he exploits a loophole in the rules that state no entrant must have passed the eighth grade. Much to the chagrin of tournament director Dr. Bernice Deagan (Allison Janney) and founder Dr. William Bowman (Philip Baker Hall), Guy is actually a genius and might just win the whole damn thing. Guy's only competition is Chaitanya Chopra (Rohan Chand), an affable 10-year old whose cheery disposition remains unwavering in the face of Guy's utter contempt. Luckily, Chaitanya is saved from Guy's more disreputable actions to disrupt the bee. At one point, he sprays ketchup on a girl's trousers and tricks her into thinking she's having her period.

The screenplay for Bad Words was written by newcomer Andrew Dodge. It made the Black List, a compendium for hot, but unproduced scripts, back in 2011. It's easy to see why studios were gun shy of Bad Words since the protagonist is an unrepentant jerk whose behavior borders on child abuse.

Jason Bateman has excelled at playing the straight man thrust into absurd situations. On Arrested Development, his Michael Bluth was the lone beacon of sanity surrounded by a family of lunatics. In Bad Words, Bateman actively plays against his nice guy image, but still spews every line of venom with his trademark deadpan delivery. He never shows one ounce of gratitude towards Jenny Widgeon (Kathryn Hahn), a hapless online reporter who sponsors Guy and even pays for his meals and accommodations. The two of them engage in casual, awkward sex in which Jenny repeatedly orders Guy not to look at her. Hahn is always terrific in these supporting roles, which require her to fearlessly leap into outrageous situations. Allison Janney and Philip Baker Hall are great foils for Bateman though you can't help feel that they are a bit wasted in such one note roles.

The main thrust of the film centers on the friendship between Guy and Chaitanya, which forms against all odds, but is thoroughly in line with movie conventions. Bateman's experience as a child actor likely helped coax a naturalistic performance out of doe-eyed and precocious Rohan Chand. It's all summed up in a montage set to the Beastie Boys as Guy and Chaitanya run amok in a spree of shoplifting, pranks, and a visit to a prostitute so the kid can see his first boobs. On one hand, you sort of root for the two to bond given Chaitanya's troubles with bullies and his ultra-stern father. Yet, it's a difficult task to remain in Guy's corner when he's hurling racist insults at the boy, ones that aren't even that creative like "slumdog" and "curry hole."

Can you spell, 'misfire?' Bad Words never had the convictions to go full force in creating a truly reprehensible protagonist. It tries hard to make Guy unlikeable while still making him likeable enough for that third act emotional payoff when all is revealed. Bateman has the talent to make it work, but the humor goes for pure shock value rather than anything creative.


Rating: ** (*****)

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Away We Go

Away We Go - Dir. Sam Mendes (2009)


Sam Mendes made his feature film debut with the Academy Award-winning American Beauty, a film that is practically the dictionary definition of the suburban malaise subgenre. Mendes would return to that subject matter with the relentlessly dour Revolutionary Road. Mendes decided to follow that up with lighter fare while still touching on similar topics with Away We Go. The screenplay was written by the husband-and-wife duo of Dave Eggers and Vendela Vida who likely tapped into their own lives for this dramedy about the anxiety of raising a family.

John Krasinski and Maya Rudolph star as Burt and Verona Farlander (get it?), an insurance salesman and a medical illustrator who await the birth of their first child. The couple is in their mid-30’s and live a low-budget Bohemian lifestyle in their ramshackle home. Verona’s parents passed away while she was in college and is apprehensive about becoming a mother. She worries that they are “fuck-ups” as she stares at a piece of cardboard where a window should be. They look towards Burt’s parents (played by Jeff Daniels and Catherine O’Hara) for help with impending parenthood until Ma and Pa Farlander announce they’re moving to Belgium. With an anchor no longer tying them down, Burt and Verona head off for a road trip to find the perfect place for their unborn child’s upbringing.

Their quest first brings them to Phoenix where they meet Verona’s former boss, the loud and abrasive, Lily (Allison Janney), and her subdued and henpecked husband, Lowell (Jim Gaffigan). Their next stop is Madison, Wisconsin, where they stop by to see Burt’s old college friend, Ellen (Maggie Gyllenhaal) who is now an ultra-pretentious, New Age hippie professor known as LN. Along with her pony-tailed husband, LN still breast feeds her children and her whole family sleeps in one, big bed. She believes in having sex in front of them, but not in strollers. ”Why would I want to push my child away?” The trip takes a positive turn when they hit Toronto to visit Tom (Chris Messina) and Munch (Melanie Lynskey) who seem to be the most well-adjusted and content of their friends. They’re happily married and raising a large family of adopted children, but there’s pain hidden beneath their otherwise blissful exteriors.

Away We Go is like the Voltron of bad indie films. It’s as if they took five smaller independent films and combined them into one. Away We Go is full of self-consciously quirky situations set to a soundtrack of college radio folk rock. Almost everyone the Farlanders meet in the first half of the film are caricatures. Burt’s parents are self-absorbed and bourgeois, the others are wacky for wacky’s sake. When LN is introduced, the story veers way off course and into a whole other picture. Her character is so ridiculous it breaks any boundaries of believability. She also throws the film off-balance when the story shifts towards a more grounded and melancholy approach. The acting is strong across the board with Allison Janney being particularly funny as the obliviously obnoxious Lily. Krasinski displays the same goofy charm he does on The Office here and gives some of the film’s best moments during a pair of mock arguments in an attempt to get the fetus’s heart rate up. Maya Rudolph is the revelation of Away We Go. Most people will know Rudolph for her comedic talents on Saturday Night Live. Here, she displays a subdued sense of humor and a knack for the more dramatic scenes. But, the cast just isn’t enough to support the weight of a weak, derivative script that lacks any genuine emotion.

When Mendes departs from the suburbs, he can make some great films (Road to Perdition, Jarhead). He’s currently working on an adaptation of the Preacher comic book series with screenwriter John August. The project has been in development for years and I hope they can pull it off.

Rating: * 1/2