Arthur

Arthur - Dir. Jason Winer (2011)

The original 1981 Arthur has its share of fans, who consider it to be a comedy classic. The titular Arthur Bach, a spoiled and drunken playboy, was Dudley Moore’s most memorable and celebrated role. Personally, I never understood the appeal. The idea of a middle-aged Moore portraying an overgrown man-child was slightly creepy, but I can see how his incessant cackling and never-ending stream of quips might be considered charming…sort of.

The 2011 remake plugs Russell Brand into the lead role. Brand’s Arthur isn’t too much of a departure from hedonistic rock star Aldous Snow from Forgetting Sarah Marshall and Get Him to the Greek. But, it’s a much kindler and gentler version of the Russell Brand persona, just like the remake is a kindler and gentler version of the original. In this modern world of political correctness, alcoholism is no longer something to be mocked or glorified. It’s also a completely different New York City, a gentrified, post-Giuliani Big Apple. As such, this new Arthur must predictably go to rehab and can no longer trawl the streets for prostitutes. The adult contemporary soft rock music by Burt Bacharach and Christopher Cross is replaced by a modern hipster soundtrack by Death Cab For Cutie’s Ben Gibbard. And yes, there is a cover version of Cross’s “Arthur’s Theme (Best That You Can Do)” by Fitz and the Tantrums, which plays over the end credits.

Arthur is an irresponsible gadabout, who was raised by his stern nanny Hobson (Helen Mirren) rather than his icy CEO mother, Vivienne (Geraldine James). Arthur frivolously wastes his unearned riches on wild parties and other nonsense. He bids against himself at high-class auctions and runs roughshod through Wall Street in the Batmobile. The ultimate waste since it was the Schumacher Batmobile and not the cool one from the Tim Burton films (or even the Adam West TV show). Vivienne has grown weary of her son’s idiotic behavior and forces him into a marriage with Susan Johnson (Jennifer Garner), the daughter of a wealthy construction magnate (Nick Nolte).

Arthur is against the arrangement until he is threatened with being cut off from his $900 million inheritance. His fortunes change when he literally bumps into Naomi (Greta Gerwig), an unlicensed tour guide and becomes inspired by her self-made, blue-collar work ethic.

The original Arthur was written and directed by Steve Gordon, whose only prior experience was in television. Warner Brothers chose not to tempt fate and hired Jason Winer, an executive producer for Modern Family, to direct the remake. Winer worked from a script by Peter Baynham, one of several credited writers for Borat. Along with Brand, they do an admirable job in making the movie a lot better than the tepid trailers made it appear. Not exactly a winning endorsement, but Arthur has its moments. Brand’s humor is hit-and-miss and so was Dudley Moore’s. However, Moore had an air of spontaneity while Brand’s jokes feel overly scripted. Also, he looks a little odd clean-shaven. While Brand may not shine in the starring role, his supporting cast provides excellent back-up.

Sir John Gielgud won an Oscar for his portrayal of the original Hobson, Arthur’s loyal and ever-patient butler. The remake has cleverly switched genders, making Hobson a nanny (and surrogate mother figure), and allowing the addition of Helen Mirren to the mix. Mirren isn’t as condescending as Gielgud, but she more than matches his dry, sardonic wit. Greta Gerwig is infinitely lovable as the pixie in a scarf and fedora Arthur falls for at first sight. She brings the same warmth and effervescent smile that she possessed in Greenberg. Not to be outdone by her co-stars, Jennifer Garner is cast against type as the aggressive social climber with Nick Nolte in full Nick Nolte mode as her intense daddy.

Russell Brand shared the spotlight with Jonah Hill in Get Him to the Greek, but Arthur is his first real chance at top lining a major studio release. While Hop (featuring the voice of Brand) has done strong box office, Arthur opened to an anemic $12.2 million. Perhaps, American audiences haven’t yet warmed up to Brand’s unique sense of humor. Arthur isn’t the best showcase for his talents, but it’s not the worst. It’s strictly middle-of-the-road entertainment and a few notches above the typical romantic comedy.

Rating: ** (*****)

No Strings Attached

No Strings Attached - Dir. Ivan Reitman (2011)

After unfurling the majority of their high profile releases for the holidays and awards season, studios slowly trickle out the leftovers in the first few months of the new year. You can rest assured that a crappy romantic comedy will always be among the bunch to kick things off on a sour note. In 2009, it was 27 Dresses and Leap Year in 2010. The torrent of bad rom-coms in 2011 opens with No Strings Attached, the flipside to When Harry Met Sally. While Rob Reiner's film posited the question of whether men and women could be friends without sex being involved, No Strings Attached is all about men and women having sex without emotional attachment.

Natalie Portman is Emma, a medical resident working 80 hours a week. Ashton Kutcher is Adam, a production assistant on a Glee-esque TV show. A prologue opens the movie showing how Emma and Adam first met at summer camp and how they would bump into each other every few years. It's a blunt way to tell the audience that these two were destined to be together. One day, Adam gets dumped by his girlfriend for his father (Kevin Kline), an aging sitcom star. In response, Adam gets drunk and somehow wakes up naked in Emma's apartment. They quickly have sex and Emma decides to use Adam on a purely carnal level. He eventually desired a more meaningful relationship, while she is reticent for anything long-term.

Rare is the romantic comedy that is rated R. The script, written by Liz Meriwether, originally began as a raunchy female buddy comedy entitled Fuck Buddies. The screenplay managed to make Hollywood's Black List (a compendium of hot, unproduced scripts) in 2008. However, committee filmmaking rears its ugly head. You can tell the story was rewritten and rewritten to make it more palpable to mainstream audiences. The original version featured the female protagonist describing a sojourn to Napa Valley as a "dick tasting trip." The final film contains just enough of an edge so that the males in the audience aren't too embarrassed about seeing an Ashton Kutcher movie without the words "Dude" and "Where's My Car?" in the title.

Portman has generally avoided these types of films, but seems like she's looking to shed the good girl persona with her recent performances here and in Black Swan. While she brings a bubbly personality and a winning smile to the role, the novelty of a horny, foul-mouthed Portman wears thin because the material isn't particularly funny or genuine. Kutcher is bland through and through, doing nothing memorable whatsoever. Where the leads fail, the supporting cast shines. The movie really belongs to the secondary characters, including Olivia Thirlby as Emma's younger sister and Greta Gerwig and Mindy Kaling from The Office as two of Emma's friends and roommates. Gerwig gets the most substantial role and it's great to see the former matron of the mumblecore movement receiving more high-profile work. Let's hope she isn't forever cast as the kooky best friend (i.e. Judy Greer). Also good is Lake Bell, who displays deft comic timing as a nerdy and talkative co-worker of Adam's.

Hmm…there's an idea for a picture, a story revolving around the tertiary characters in a standard rom-com plot. It would do to romantic comedies what The Other Guys did to the buddy cop movie.

Rating: * ½ (*****)

Greenberg

Greenberg - Dir. Noah Baumbach (2010)


”Youth is wasted on the young.”
“I’d go further. I’d go, ‘Life is wasted on people.’”

Independent filmmaker Noah Baumbach has specialized in films about aimlessness, mid-life misanthropy and familial dysfunction. Greenberg is Baumbach’s latest, co-written with wife/actress Jennifer Jason Leigh. It’s a sequel in spirit to Baumbach’s semi-autobiographical The Squid and the Whale as one could easily picture Jesse Eisenberg’s Walt Berkman aging into Ben Stiller’s Roger Greenberg. The title character of Greenberg is just as self-involved and neurotic as the title character of Margot at the Wedding.

Stiller’s Greenberg is a former L.A. native transplanted to New York. In his youth, he was in a band, but torpedoed a record deal due to ego. He works as a carpenter nowadays and is fresh off a stint in a mental institute. Returning to Los Angeles, Greenberg housesits for his wealthier brother, Phillip (Chris Messina), who has taken his family on a vacation to Vietnam. Greenberg is somewhat proud of the fact that he’s mostly trying to do “nothing.” He does, however, write letters to Starbucks and NYC’s Mayor Bloomberg, complaining about minor inconveniences like traffic noise.

Back in town, Greenberg attempts to reconnect with his old girlfriend, Beth (Jason Leigh), and his best friend, Ivan (Rhys Ifans). Ivan was Greenberg’s guitarist and now works in computer repair. Though he doesn’t show it, there’s an underlying layer of bitterness on his part.

Greenberg manages to find a kindred spirit in Phillip’s personal assistant, Florence (Greta Gerwig). She’s one of those college graduates without direction once their forced into the real world. The poster girl of the modern, mumblecore movement meets the disgruntled remnants of Generation X. Florence does the usual grunt work of an assistant such as grocery shopping and picking up laundry. At night, she sings at tiny hipster clubs to a crowd of two or three people. Florence takes Greenberg to her apartment where the latter’s awkward attempt at oral sex succinctly defines the future of their relationship.

Greenberg flies in the face of cinematic tenet that your protagonist must be likeable. He’s whiny, at best, and downright tactless and cruel, at worst. Having lunch with Ivan at Musso & Frank’s, Greenberg invites Florence and promptly calls Beth then throws a profane tantrum when the wait staff sings, “Happy Birthday” for him. He’s the kind of mopey, middle-aged, and white intellectual that independent films have been fascinated with for whatever reasons. Their 40 but haven’t grown up. Aside from Tamara Jenkins’ The Savages, the subject matter hasn’t made for gripping drama.

The film’s charm lies almost solely in the hands of Greta Gerwig. Her Florence is one of the most genuine female characters I’ve seen in recent memory. She just looks and feels real with her dirty blonde hair, a slouch, and a body with a little pinch of flab that belies the well-toned figures we come to expect from a leading lady. Florence feels she wandered in from another film and nearly hijacks Greenberg from Greenberg. The movie opens with Florence navigating through the streets of L.A., meekly murmuring to herself, ”Are you gonna let me in? No?”

Greenberg is a film that’s just as much about Los Angeles as it is it’s cast of disaffected characters. There’s an aura of disconnect that comes with living in L.A. I know I always felt it. Greenberg embodies that disconnect and stands as a polar opposite to the optimistic attitudes of sunny Southern California. This is never more apparent when the 41 year-old Greenberg partying and snorting coke with a house full of entitled 20-somethings. They listen to the old-timer with bemusement as he classifies them as all, ”…ADD and carpal tunnel.” Then, respond with disdain when Greenberg puts on Duran Duran.

Greenberg is an unlikely romantic comedy, one that’s neither romantic nor particularly comedic. It feels like a cynical film with a tinge of hope and centered around two marvelous performances by Greta Gerwig and Ben Stiller.

Rating: ** ½