Today I saw The White Ribbon, starring Susanne Lothar and Christian Friedel.
Black and white film can't make a story work, but it most certainly can enhance a story that's already good. This is the case in this moody, quiet drama from director Michael Haneke.
Once you get the characters straight (some of them look similar, and well, they all dress alike) you're led into an unconventional whodunnit featuring a village full of suspects.
The pre-World War I German setting itself builds suspense, as the audience knows what becomes of the nation in the decades to follow. Each scene passes along to something more that you realize will build and turn into something bad.
And that's how it unfolds: first, the town doctor has a freak accident (one that couldn't have taken place without the help of a human), then another person turns up dead. This is followed by a tortured child and the list goes on.
In between these ghastly happenings, we get to know many of the townspeople including the teacher who is narrating our journey (Friedel) and the scorned mistress of the doctor (Lothar). The revealing peek behind the curtain doesn't endear us to many of the citizens; it in fact does the opposite.
We witness abuse, we question motives, we sympathize with the children—well, at least some of the children—and we wonder if karma is just simply playing its punishment cards for all of the heinous behavior that goes on behind these closed doors.
True to form, Haneke (who attracted attention in 2005 with his thriller Caché) isn't going to spell it out for us.
There are many 'suspects' and layers of people to keep track of, but no clear-cut answer unless you're willing to believe the theory that's presented near the end. It certainly could be true, but if it was that easy, would our journey have been so rough?
Showing posts with label 2009. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2009. Show all posts
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
A Serious Man
Today I saw A Serious Man, starring Michael Stuhlbarg and Richard Kind.
Larry Gopnik (Stuhlbarg) will remind you of every Jewish man you've ever met. Not in a stereotypical way, but in a cultural way.
He seldom feels the need to raise his voice. His appearance is neat and tidy. His wife is bold and controlling. His work and his children and his property mean a lot to him.
Though he appears to be a dedicated husband, father and professor, each part of his world is slowly being dismantled by external forces. His wife is leaving him for his friend, his children are stealing and taking drugs, and a disgruntled student is attempting to sue him because he won't unfairly inflate his grade.
He also has a frightening militant neighbor, a live-in brother (Kind) who is in trouble with the law and difficulty getting an appointment with the sought-after rabbi at his temple. What would bury most men simply piles up in his mind, causing unavoidable nightmares.
I felt sorry for Larry—not just because he didn't appear to deserve all of the bad things that happened to him, but because his meek nature allowed it to continue. He solves most of these problems by throwing money at them (retaining a lawyer, paying for a motel room to sleep in when his wife kicks him out), but at least he's pressing on.
His resolve in the face of adversity is admirable, and though the scenes and situations are undoubtedly comical, it is refreshing to see a main character who doesn't run from his problems or throw things against a wall when things don't go his way.
Stuhlbarg plays the character expertly with quiet intensity. We can feel his tension and pain, but he doesn't burden us with it; it's all kept inside for him to manage. That is partly a credit to the odd, yet solid script from The Coen Brothers. It feels like a screenplay they spent time on, much like The Man Who Wasn't There, and their Oscar-winning No Country for Old Men.
There are many layers to A Serious Man that us viewers don't get to see, but what we do witness is endlessly satisfying. If how we react to things in life defines us, Larry Gopnik serves as a good example of how to deal.
Larry Gopnik (Stuhlbarg) will remind you of every Jewish man you've ever met. Not in a stereotypical way, but in a cultural way.
He seldom feels the need to raise his voice. His appearance is neat and tidy. His wife is bold and controlling. His work and his children and his property mean a lot to him.
Though he appears to be a dedicated husband, father and professor, each part of his world is slowly being dismantled by external forces. His wife is leaving him for his friend, his children are stealing and taking drugs, and a disgruntled student is attempting to sue him because he won't unfairly inflate his grade.
He also has a frightening militant neighbor, a live-in brother (Kind) who is in trouble with the law and difficulty getting an appointment with the sought-after rabbi at his temple. What would bury most men simply piles up in his mind, causing unavoidable nightmares.
I felt sorry for Larry—not just because he didn't appear to deserve all of the bad things that happened to him, but because his meek nature allowed it to continue. He solves most of these problems by throwing money at them (retaining a lawyer, paying for a motel room to sleep in when his wife kicks him out), but at least he's pressing on.
His resolve in the face of adversity is admirable, and though the scenes and situations are undoubtedly comical, it is refreshing to see a main character who doesn't run from his problems or throw things against a wall when things don't go his way.
Stuhlbarg plays the character expertly with quiet intensity. We can feel his tension and pain, but he doesn't burden us with it; it's all kept inside for him to manage. That is partly a credit to the odd, yet solid script from The Coen Brothers. It feels like a screenplay they spent time on, much like The Man Who Wasn't There, and their Oscar-winning No Country for Old Men.
There are many layers to A Serious Man that us viewers don't get to see, but what we do witness is endlessly satisfying. If how we react to things in life defines us, Larry Gopnik serves as a good example of how to deal.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Me and Orson Welles
Tonight I saw Me and Orson Welles, starring Christian McKay and Claire Danes.
Richard (Zac Efron) is a high school student with dreams of succeeding on Broadway. He gets his foot in the door with a small part in Julius Caesar, which is directed by Orson Welles.
Soon he falls for the beautiful Sonja (Danes) who works at the theater and is heartbroken to learn that in addition to sleeping with him, she'll also go home with the married Welles (McKay) believing it will further her career. It does.
During the production of the show, we see cast members overworked and left in the shadows of the big star, but always willing to make the sacrifice. As they rehearse and take jabs of criticism from their director, it is clear what it must have been like to work with such a polarizing figure in theater, radio and film.
Of course Richard is too immature to mask his anger toward Welles' transgressions and gets himself fired. What happens next in the production and between the two male leads is not entirely unpredictable, but I won't reveal it here.
The reason to go see his movie is the almost eerily accurate performance by Christian McKay. Not only does he physically resemble Welles, he emulates his mannerisms and speech patterns with unbelievable accuracy. He conveys the brilliance and the arrogance of the famed man just as effortlessly as Claire Danes looks beautiful in red lipstick.
But if the theater bores you, or Zac Efron annoys you, the pace may be too slow for your taste.
Richard (Zac Efron) is a high school student with dreams of succeeding on Broadway. He gets his foot in the door with a small part in Julius Caesar, which is directed by Orson Welles.
Soon he falls for the beautiful Sonja (Danes) who works at the theater and is heartbroken to learn that in addition to sleeping with him, she'll also go home with the married Welles (McKay) believing it will further her career. It does.
During the production of the show, we see cast members overworked and left in the shadows of the big star, but always willing to make the sacrifice. As they rehearse and take jabs of criticism from their director, it is clear what it must have been like to work with such a polarizing figure in theater, radio and film.
Of course Richard is too immature to mask his anger toward Welles' transgressions and gets himself fired. What happens next in the production and between the two male leads is not entirely unpredictable, but I won't reveal it here.
The reason to go see his movie is the almost eerily accurate performance by Christian McKay. Not only does he physically resemble Welles, he emulates his mannerisms and speech patterns with unbelievable accuracy. He conveys the brilliance and the arrogance of the famed man just as effortlessly as Claire Danes looks beautiful in red lipstick.
But if the theater bores you, or Zac Efron annoys you, the pace may be too slow for your taste.
Saturday, January 09, 2010
The Young Victoria
On Thursday I saw The Young Victoria, starring Emily Blunt and Rupert Friend.
The longest reigning female monarch, Queen Victoria, had a very melancholy childhood. Her mother raised her in a cold, isolated environment so she wouldn't be exposed to anyone that would influence her unfavorably. As a result, Victoria had no friends (save for her dog) nor private time, as her mother shared a bedroom with her until she became queen (at age 18). Her mother believed she as a regent, and later Victoria as queen, would restore the good name of the monarchy that had been tarnished in recent years due to the less-than-honorable behavior exhibited by her deceased husband's family.
Unfortunately for her mother, there was never a need for a regent, so when it was time for Victoria to assume the crown, she turned the tables on her and moved her to another part of the palace where she wouldn't interfere. Shortly thereafter, Victoria also married the man she was in love with (her first cousin, Prince Albert) and ruled the way she wanted to rule, confiding in a close political adviser for much of the time.
This film traces that portion of the legendary Queen's life and goes no further than her young, married years. Emily Blunt was in fact perfectly cast to play the role, as she can appear both delicately innocent and brilliantly controlling at once. The real monarch's complexities were revealed clearly in everything from Blunt's posture to the adoring way she looked at her on-screen husband (Friend).
He doesn't do such a bad job either—Friend is enamored, but not desperate over the young beauty, and perfectly conveys this in his portrayal of Albert. He gives him enough of a backbone to be respected, but balances that with a tenderness to be envied.
The film doesn't do a remarkable job explaining why the country turns on Victoria early in her reign, nor how she reclaims their trust, but it does create a beautiful couple in the two main characters, who by all accounts really did love one another until the end.
If you can make it through the chess games and important conversations between those fighting for control over the young queen, watching this will prove to be a pleasurable experience, mostly due to Blunt's flawless performance.
The longest reigning female monarch, Queen Victoria, had a very melancholy childhood. Her mother raised her in a cold, isolated environment so she wouldn't be exposed to anyone that would influence her unfavorably. As a result, Victoria had no friends (save for her dog) nor private time, as her mother shared a bedroom with her until she became queen (at age 18). Her mother believed she as a regent, and later Victoria as queen, would restore the good name of the monarchy that had been tarnished in recent years due to the less-than-honorable behavior exhibited by her deceased husband's family.
Unfortunately for her mother, there was never a need for a regent, so when it was time for Victoria to assume the crown, she turned the tables on her and moved her to another part of the palace where she wouldn't interfere. Shortly thereafter, Victoria also married the man she was in love with (her first cousin, Prince Albert) and ruled the way she wanted to rule, confiding in a close political adviser for much of the time.
This film traces that portion of the legendary Queen's life and goes no further than her young, married years. Emily Blunt was in fact perfectly cast to play the role, as she can appear both delicately innocent and brilliantly controlling at once. The real monarch's complexities were revealed clearly in everything from Blunt's posture to the adoring way she looked at her on-screen husband (Friend).
He doesn't do such a bad job either—Friend is enamored, but not desperate over the young beauty, and perfectly conveys this in his portrayal of Albert. He gives him enough of a backbone to be respected, but balances that with a tenderness to be envied.
The film doesn't do a remarkable job explaining why the country turns on Victoria early in her reign, nor how she reclaims their trust, but it does create a beautiful couple in the two main characters, who by all accounts really did love one another until the end.
If you can make it through the chess games and important conversations between those fighting for control over the young queen, watching this will prove to be a pleasurable experience, mostly due to Blunt's flawless performance.
Friday, January 01, 2010
Broken Embraces
Today I saw Broken Embraces, starring Penélope Cruz and Lluis Hómar.
Magdalena (Cruz) is a secretary who wishes to be an actress. Ernesto (José Luis Gomez) is her wealthy boss, and the man who helped her family when her father grew gravely ill. She repays him by becoming his live-in mistress. Ernesto also has an annoying son (Rubén Ochandiano) who acts as his lap dog.
Mateo (Homar), a charismatic film director, no longer goes by that name. Since the accident that caused his blindness, he's been Harry Caine. He is taken care of by his agent Judit (Blanca Portillo) and her son Diego (Tamar Novas).
Through a series of flashbacks that rewind their lives back to 1992, we see how all of their worlds fit together. Director Pedro Almodóvar does this in such a way that you can't get lost in one era or the other—you're always clear on "when" you are mostly due to Mateo's eyesight or lack thereof (though I did wonder why he wore a non-digital wristwatch in one of his blind scenes).
There is love, betrayal, jealousy, anger, violence, sex, nudity, sensuality, humor, sentiment, creativity, redemption, resolution and color. Lots and lots of color.
From the cherry red suit Lena wears to the rich blues of the beach and the vibrant crosses that grace the walls of two of the main characters' homes, with few exceptions, this movie is drenched in prominent hues.
Those hues help distinguish when we're watching Mateo's movies from when we're lounging in the mansion, or making love at the beach house. They help the characters express their feelings, though we may not realize it until after it's happened.
All of the players are well cast and especially nice to watch is Lluis Homar, who moves seamlessly between a man with sight and a man without. And though I've seen Cruz do better work, it almost wouldn't feel like an Almodóvar film if she weren't the token siren.
You won't get bored in this one, and you'll delight in the aural assault of its visuals.
Magdalena (Cruz) is a secretary who wishes to be an actress. Ernesto (José Luis Gomez) is her wealthy boss, and the man who helped her family when her father grew gravely ill. She repays him by becoming his live-in mistress. Ernesto also has an annoying son (Rubén Ochandiano) who acts as his lap dog.
Mateo (Homar), a charismatic film director, no longer goes by that name. Since the accident that caused his blindness, he's been Harry Caine. He is taken care of by his agent Judit (Blanca Portillo) and her son Diego (Tamar Novas).
Through a series of flashbacks that rewind their lives back to 1992, we see how all of their worlds fit together. Director Pedro Almodóvar does this in such a way that you can't get lost in one era or the other—you're always clear on "when" you are mostly due to Mateo's eyesight or lack thereof (though I did wonder why he wore a non-digital wristwatch in one of his blind scenes).
There is love, betrayal, jealousy, anger, violence, sex, nudity, sensuality, humor, sentiment, creativity, redemption, resolution and color. Lots and lots of color.
From the cherry red suit Lena wears to the rich blues of the beach and the vibrant crosses that grace the walls of two of the main characters' homes, with few exceptions, this movie is drenched in prominent hues.
Those hues help distinguish when we're watching Mateo's movies from when we're lounging in the mansion, or making love at the beach house. They help the characters express their feelings, though we may not realize it until after it's happened.
All of the players are well cast and especially nice to watch is Lluis Homar, who moves seamlessly between a man with sight and a man without. And though I've seen Cruz do better work, it almost wouldn't feel like an Almodóvar film if she weren't the token siren.
You won't get bored in this one, and you'll delight in the aural assault of its visuals.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Sherlock Holmes
Tonight I saw Sherlock Holmes, starring Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law.
Guy Ritchie's dumbed-down version of Holmes is not without appeal, it's just not what I've pictured of the character all my life.
The dapper Sherlock (Downey Jr.) is in between cases after solving a big one and has turned into somewhat of a hermit. His faithful Watson (Law) encourages him to get back to work, and additional motivation is found by Irene (Rachel McAdams). I don't think I'd be out of line here mentioning that the chemistry between Downey Jr. and Law is far more electric than that of Downey Jr. and McAdams.
Anyway, soon the three are on the chase with Holmes predictably outwitting everyone in his path (and stopping to explain himself after each feat). The fight scenes are predictably exciting (since that's Ritchie's "thing"), but at times it's almost expected that a "BOOM" or "POW" will emerge from a puffy cloud above their heads. It's that comic book-ish.
Nevertheless, I'd say the greatest elements of the film are the cinematography and the art direction. London looks so gray and spooky, I remembered how I felt years ago when visiting the city, I took a Jack the Ripper murder mystery tour that led me well into the night. It creeped me out; not only because the stories I was hearing were true, but because the mood was "just right."
And while I don't believe the character portrayals (though undeniably entertaining) are faithful enough to their literary counterparts, I do appreciate how cool it all was to watch.
Guy Ritchie's dumbed-down version of Holmes is not without appeal, it's just not what I've pictured of the character all my life.
The dapper Sherlock (Downey Jr.) is in between cases after solving a big one and has turned into somewhat of a hermit. His faithful Watson (Law) encourages him to get back to work, and additional motivation is found by Irene (Rachel McAdams). I don't think I'd be out of line here mentioning that the chemistry between Downey Jr. and Law is far more electric than that of Downey Jr. and McAdams.
Anyway, soon the three are on the chase with Holmes predictably outwitting everyone in his path (and stopping to explain himself after each feat). The fight scenes are predictably exciting (since that's Ritchie's "thing"), but at times it's almost expected that a "BOOM" or "POW" will emerge from a puffy cloud above their heads. It's that comic book-ish.
Nevertheless, I'd say the greatest elements of the film are the cinematography and the art direction. London looks so gray and spooky, I remembered how I felt years ago when visiting the city, I took a Jack the Ripper murder mystery tour that led me well into the night. It creeped me out; not only because the stories I was hearing were true, but because the mood was "just right."
And while I don't believe the character portrayals (though undeniably entertaining) are faithful enough to their literary counterparts, I do appreciate how cool it all was to watch.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
A Single Man
This afternoon I saw A Single Man, starring Colin Firth and Julianne Moore.
George (Firth) is a British gay English professor teaching at California's Stanford University. It's the early 60s and he's arrived at a time in his life where he no longer finds it worth living. For eight years he's mourned the loss of his lover Jim (Matthew Goode) whom we meet in flashbacks.
It seems the only people who care for George are his friend Charley (Moore), who has spent their friendship wishing he was straight; and Kenny (Nicholas Hoult), a nosy student who seems genuinely concerned about him. And attracted to him.
We follow George through memories of happier times and through the rituals that one endures when they're preparing to end their life: getting the affairs in order, writing goodbye letters, saying nice things to those around them perhaps to show the compassion they felt they were never given.
He spends one last night with Charley, and then sparked by a warm memory, decides to have a drink at the local bar where he met Jim. Following close behind him is Kenny, who he decides to spend the evening with.
Before I go any further, I have to state that all of these scenes play out in quiet, muted tones until something in the character ignites and the color on the screen pops to illustrate it. This could be annoying if not done well, but Director Tom Ford, fashion phenom, happens to know color. It's a technique that not all could use, but he uses it well.
Also to note is the absolute perfect casting Ford found in Colin Firth. Just as convincingly as he usually plays a handsome heterosexual suitor, here he is most certainly a gay college professor with an appetite for only men. It may just be the role of his career.
Not to be understated is the pitch-perfect performance by Julianne Moore and the mature turn of roles for About a Boy's Nicholas Hoult. He's still a fantastic actor, but now instead of being awkward and pudgy, he's handsome, chiseled and...nude. After getting past the same mannerisms he had as a child, it's not hard to see him as a completely grown-up (hot) young man.
This field trip of pain isn't exactly the most pleasant thing to watch, but it's also not as dark as it could have been. Sometimes it's a comfort to see a film where humans just simply act human.
George (Firth) is a British gay English professor teaching at California's Stanford University. It's the early 60s and he's arrived at a time in his life where he no longer finds it worth living. For eight years he's mourned the loss of his lover Jim (Matthew Goode) whom we meet in flashbacks.
It seems the only people who care for George are his friend Charley (Moore), who has spent their friendship wishing he was straight; and Kenny (Nicholas Hoult), a nosy student who seems genuinely concerned about him. And attracted to him.
We follow George through memories of happier times and through the rituals that one endures when they're preparing to end their life: getting the affairs in order, writing goodbye letters, saying nice things to those around them perhaps to show the compassion they felt they were never given.
He spends one last night with Charley, and then sparked by a warm memory, decides to have a drink at the local bar where he met Jim. Following close behind him is Kenny, who he decides to spend the evening with.
Before I go any further, I have to state that all of these scenes play out in quiet, muted tones until something in the character ignites and the color on the screen pops to illustrate it. This could be annoying if not done well, but Director Tom Ford, fashion phenom, happens to know color. It's a technique that not all could use, but he uses it well.
Also to note is the absolute perfect casting Ford found in Colin Firth. Just as convincingly as he usually plays a handsome heterosexual suitor, here he is most certainly a gay college professor with an appetite for only men. It may just be the role of his career.
Not to be understated is the pitch-perfect performance by Julianne Moore and the mature turn of roles for About a Boy's Nicholas Hoult. He's still a fantastic actor, but now instead of being awkward and pudgy, he's handsome, chiseled and...nude. After getting past the same mannerisms he had as a child, it's not hard to see him as a completely grown-up (hot) young man.
This field trip of pain isn't exactly the most pleasant thing to watch, but it's also not as dark as it could have been. Sometimes it's a comfort to see a film where humans just simply act human.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Nine
Today I saw Nine, starring Daniel Day-Lewis and a slew of women.
Director Guido Contini (Day-Lewis) has the weight of the world on his shoulders. He believes this is because he is about to make another film, but really it's because he can't successfully manage his addiction to women.
We meet each of the ladies in his life through a series of musical numbers and brief encounters with him. His mistress (Penelope Cruz) gets the most screen time.
Really, there's not much of a story here and therein lies the problem. A famous, handsome director is approaching a state of nervous breakdown because he has it all and "all" turns out to be too much.
His wife Louisa (Marion Cotillard), aside from being beautiful, does nothing to convince us that he wouldn't get bored being married to her. She's alternately obedient and disobedient, then finally unwilling to look the other way at her husband's transgressions. He probably truly loves her, but then again, he probably truly loves all of them.
A consistent ear for him comes in the form of Lilli (Dame Judi Dench), a wise costume designer that sees not only his aesthetic vision, but also his wandering eye. She provides a motherly like counsel for him while his real mother (Sophia Loren) appears to be paraded out into numbers just so we can marvel at how beautiful she still is.
In the not-sure-why-they're-even-there department we find a Vogue writer named Stephanie (Kate Hudson) who offers possibly the best dance sequence, though shows no evidence beyond physical attraction that she has a connection with Guido. There's also a very random number with the voluptuous Saraghina (Fergie), an apparent beach recluse who enabled the younger Guido to learn about women. She's easily the best singer of the bunch (no surprise there), but her performance feels underutilized because she barely moves from her dancing chair.
Also on screen is the director's muse, Claudia (Nicole Kidman) who serves as nothing more than a reminder that Guido likes beautiful women. Hey, guess what? We already knew that.
His most believable and developed relationship is with his mistress Carla, who truly loves him despite her own marriage. He treats her as men typically treat their mistresses: hiding her away and orchestrating her every move, then forgetting about her once he's had his fill of the sex and adoration only a good mistress can provide. And yes, there are always consequences for all involved.
The shame about this movie is the amount of Oscar® caliber talent that shares the screen, but with the exception of Day-Lewis, doesn't get to prove it. He is amazing in whatever he does and this role is no different—in fact, the most delightful thing about Nine is finally seeing him act as a somewhat traditional leading man. He's sexy, he's well-dressed, he hasn't killed anyone (that we know of) and good God, he even sings!
But it's not enough to make up for this pieced-together series of vignettes that are too weak to amount to a quality musical.
Director Guido Contini (Day-Lewis) has the weight of the world on his shoulders. He believes this is because he is about to make another film, but really it's because he can't successfully manage his addiction to women.
We meet each of the ladies in his life through a series of musical numbers and brief encounters with him. His mistress (Penelope Cruz) gets the most screen time.
Really, there's not much of a story here and therein lies the problem. A famous, handsome director is approaching a state of nervous breakdown because he has it all and "all" turns out to be too much.
His wife Louisa (Marion Cotillard), aside from being beautiful, does nothing to convince us that he wouldn't get bored being married to her. She's alternately obedient and disobedient, then finally unwilling to look the other way at her husband's transgressions. He probably truly loves her, but then again, he probably truly loves all of them.
A consistent ear for him comes in the form of Lilli (Dame Judi Dench), a wise costume designer that sees not only his aesthetic vision, but also his wandering eye. She provides a motherly like counsel for him while his real mother (Sophia Loren) appears to be paraded out into numbers just so we can marvel at how beautiful she still is.
In the not-sure-why-they're-even-there department we find a Vogue writer named Stephanie (Kate Hudson) who offers possibly the best dance sequence, though shows no evidence beyond physical attraction that she has a connection with Guido. There's also a very random number with the voluptuous Saraghina (Fergie), an apparent beach recluse who enabled the younger Guido to learn about women. She's easily the best singer of the bunch (no surprise there), but her performance feels underutilized because she barely moves from her dancing chair.
Also on screen is the director's muse, Claudia (Nicole Kidman) who serves as nothing more than a reminder that Guido likes beautiful women. Hey, guess what? We already knew that.
His most believable and developed relationship is with his mistress Carla, who truly loves him despite her own marriage. He treats her as men typically treat their mistresses: hiding her away and orchestrating her every move, then forgetting about her once he's had his fill of the sex and adoration only a good mistress can provide. And yes, there are always consequences for all involved.
The shame about this movie is the amount of Oscar® caliber talent that shares the screen, but with the exception of Day-Lewis, doesn't get to prove it. He is amazing in whatever he does and this role is no different—in fact, the most delightful thing about Nine is finally seeing him act as a somewhat traditional leading man. He's sexy, he's well-dressed, he hasn't killed anyone (that we know of) and good God, he even sings!
But it's not enough to make up for this pieced-together series of vignettes that are too weak to amount to a quality musical.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
The Princess and the Frog
Tonight I saw The Princess and the Frog, featuring the voices of Anika Noni Rose and Bruno Campos.
Tiana (Rose) is a working girl. She was raised by a seamstress and a military man, and has grown into a popular New Orleans waitress who is saving up to open her own restaurant. One night when she's working at a party hosted by her friend Charlotte (Jennifer Cody), she stumbles upon a frog who promises her the money to open her restaurant if she grants him a kiss. She complies, but instead of him turning into a prince to produce the money, she turns into a frog as well. Turns out he mistook her for a princess so the kiss didn't work.
After many adventures in the bayou in an effort to return themselves to their normal state, the two fall genuinely in love and seek the help of a voodoo priestess. Before we find out if her solution will work, they make friends with creatures from the swamp—Ray, the lightning bug who is more appealing in spirit than in appearance; and Marlon, an alligator who likes to play horns. There are a several cute musical numbers (nothing makes a more adorable accordion than a caterpillar) in the classic Disney tradition, where the leads are surrounded by dancing animals. There are also scary moments where the Shadow Man (who looks like a cross between John Waters and Prince) attempts to ruin all of the good people with his evil spells.
The film is getting much attention for the detail that is most insignificant in the story: Tiana is black. Thankfully, Disney doesn't make race an "issue" here and simply tells a sweet love story.
But after that, there isn't much to it. It is a beautiful film by way of old-fashioned hand-drawings, which burst with color, and that's infinitely pleasant to watch. But the characters aren't very deeply recognized and the ending (as with most Disney flicks) is painfully easy to predict.
Tiana (Rose) is a working girl. She was raised by a seamstress and a military man, and has grown into a popular New Orleans waitress who is saving up to open her own restaurant. One night when she's working at a party hosted by her friend Charlotte (Jennifer Cody), she stumbles upon a frog who promises her the money to open her restaurant if she grants him a kiss. She complies, but instead of him turning into a prince to produce the money, she turns into a frog as well. Turns out he mistook her for a princess so the kiss didn't work.
After many adventures in the bayou in an effort to return themselves to their normal state, the two fall genuinely in love and seek the help of a voodoo priestess. Before we find out if her solution will work, they make friends with creatures from the swamp—Ray, the lightning bug who is more appealing in spirit than in appearance; and Marlon, an alligator who likes to play horns. There are a several cute musical numbers (nothing makes a more adorable accordion than a caterpillar) in the classic Disney tradition, where the leads are surrounded by dancing animals. There are also scary moments where the Shadow Man (who looks like a cross between John Waters and Prince) attempts to ruin all of the good people with his evil spells.
The film is getting much attention for the detail that is most insignificant in the story: Tiana is black. Thankfully, Disney doesn't make race an "issue" here and simply tells a sweet love story.
But after that, there isn't much to it. It is a beautiful film by way of old-fashioned hand-drawings, which burst with color, and that's infinitely pleasant to watch. But the characters aren't very deeply recognized and the ending (as with most Disney flicks) is painfully easy to predict.
Monday, December 21, 2009
It's Complicated
Tonight I screened It's Complicated, starring Meryl Streep and Alec Baldwin.
Divorce is never easy, especially when your husband leaves you for a woman half your age. That's what Jane (Streep) has had to deal with for the past ten years. But she's moved on gracefully, creating a beautiful home of her own and a successful business.
Jake (Baldwin), her ex, is not as happy—helping his young wife raise her 5-year-old and being pressured into producing a child with her via fertility treatments. He has "no quiet" in his life when he needs it most.
When the former mates reunite at the same hotel for their son's graduation, the wine flows and the sparks fly. They end up in bed and are so euphoric after their one night together, they decide to do it again...and again.
All of this is kept from their three grown kids, though their charming soon-to-be son-in-law Harley (John Krasinski) accidentally sees them together at a local hotel. Lucky for them, he keeps his mouth shut.
Meanwhile, Jane's architect Adam (Steve Martin), damaged by his own divorce, is falling for her and hoping that she's available.
After discussing her indiscretions with her girlfriends and her shrink, though she likes Adam, Jane decides to give the affair with Jake a shot. Of course, trouble follows.
The movie is shamefully predictable and aimed at the 50-something female demographic (though Jane's girlfriends sure do disappear early in the film). That said, I will never complain about spending two hours with these two leads. Their performances are spirited and Steve Martin is simply delicious icing on the middle-aged cake.
There is nothing new to be learned from this film. Sex with an ex can be great. People do have affairs. People do fall out of love with their spouses. People do always wonder "what if?"
At least this one lets you laugh along the way.
Divorce is never easy, especially when your husband leaves you for a woman half your age. That's what Jane (Streep) has had to deal with for the past ten years. But she's moved on gracefully, creating a beautiful home of her own and a successful business.
Jake (Baldwin), her ex, is not as happy—helping his young wife raise her 5-year-old and being pressured into producing a child with her via fertility treatments. He has "no quiet" in his life when he needs it most.
When the former mates reunite at the same hotel for their son's graduation, the wine flows and the sparks fly. They end up in bed and are so euphoric after their one night together, they decide to do it again...and again.
All of this is kept from their three grown kids, though their charming soon-to-be son-in-law Harley (John Krasinski) accidentally sees them together at a local hotel. Lucky for them, he keeps his mouth shut.
Meanwhile, Jane's architect Adam (Steve Martin), damaged by his own divorce, is falling for her and hoping that she's available.
After discussing her indiscretions with her girlfriends and her shrink, though she likes Adam, Jane decides to give the affair with Jake a shot. Of course, trouble follows.
The movie is shamefully predictable and aimed at the 50-something female demographic (though Jane's girlfriends sure do disappear early in the film). That said, I will never complain about spending two hours with these two leads. Their performances are spirited and Steve Martin is simply delicious icing on the middle-aged cake.
There is nothing new to be learned from this film. Sex with an ex can be great. People do have affairs. People do fall out of love with their spouses. People do always wonder "what if?"
At least this one lets you laugh along the way.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Up in the Air
This morning I saw Up in the Air, starring George Clooney and Vera Farmiga.
Ryan Bingham (Clooney) is slimy. Not in the way a car salesman is slimy (though he does a little motivational speaking on the side), but in a way that only those prone to habitual selfishness can be. His family barely knows him. He is wifeless. He is childless.
So, he has the perfect job. He's a professional "terminator" who flies all over the country to fire the employees of downsizing companies. He takes pride in his resolution techniques and has an obsession with accumulating frequent flier miles.
When new recruit Natalie (Anna Kendrick) comes on the scene with a technological idea that will ground Bingham and his colleagues from in-person firings, he doesn't take the news lightly and complains to the boss. As a result, he's assigned to show Natalie the ropes by taking her on a series of trips and training her how to do his in-person job.
These scenes—and the relationship that develops—could have been painfully predictable were it not for the smart writing that instead made it believable. The two don't become best friends and they're not interested in being lovers, but they do stand to learn a lot from one another.
Also on the journey is Alex (Farmiga), a spunky businesswoman who seems to be the male version of Ryan and has no reservations about starting a sexual relationship with him the first night they meet. Alex and Ryan would be vastly unappealing alone, but together seem better.
What transpires will please some and disappoint others, but few can dispute this film is engaging, smart and entertaining. Farmiga should be a bigger star by now and Kendrick is a new, nice surprise. Clooney is at his charming best when he's playing himself, and I would bargain this role comes pretty close.
If I had to find something wrong with the film it would be seeing Jason Bateman for the upteenth time as the stuffy, corporate guy who talks down to people. As the boss, he reverts back to every other asshole he's played and almost seems tired doing it. Guess what: we're tired of seeing him do it. He's a good actor—let's utilize him in some better way.
There's also a hefty amount of product placement from American Airlines and Hilton hotels, but for a film based on travel, you almost need some real names thrown in for authenticity.
At the end of the day, the story examines a question many struggle with: is it worth it to go through life with a partner, surrounded by meaningful connections to family and friends, or would we all be better off flying solo?
The answer is different for each of us.
Ryan Bingham (Clooney) is slimy. Not in the way a car salesman is slimy (though he does a little motivational speaking on the side), but in a way that only those prone to habitual selfishness can be. His family barely knows him. He is wifeless. He is childless.
So, he has the perfect job. He's a professional "terminator" who flies all over the country to fire the employees of downsizing companies. He takes pride in his resolution techniques and has an obsession with accumulating frequent flier miles.
When new recruit Natalie (Anna Kendrick) comes on the scene with a technological idea that will ground Bingham and his colleagues from in-person firings, he doesn't take the news lightly and complains to the boss. As a result, he's assigned to show Natalie the ropes by taking her on a series of trips and training her how to do his in-person job.
These scenes—and the relationship that develops—could have been painfully predictable were it not for the smart writing that instead made it believable. The two don't become best friends and they're not interested in being lovers, but they do stand to learn a lot from one another.
Also on the journey is Alex (Farmiga), a spunky businesswoman who seems to be the male version of Ryan and has no reservations about starting a sexual relationship with him the first night they meet. Alex and Ryan would be vastly unappealing alone, but together seem better.
What transpires will please some and disappoint others, but few can dispute this film is engaging, smart and entertaining. Farmiga should be a bigger star by now and Kendrick is a new, nice surprise. Clooney is at his charming best when he's playing himself, and I would bargain this role comes pretty close.
If I had to find something wrong with the film it would be seeing Jason Bateman for the upteenth time as the stuffy, corporate guy who talks down to people. As the boss, he reverts back to every other asshole he's played and almost seems tired doing it. Guess what: we're tired of seeing him do it. He's a good actor—let's utilize him in some better way.
There's also a hefty amount of product placement from American Airlines and Hilton hotels, but for a film based on travel, you almost need some real names thrown in for authenticity.
At the end of the day, the story examines a question many struggle with: is it worth it to go through life with a partner, surrounded by meaningful connections to family and friends, or would we all be better off flying solo?
The answer is different for each of us.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Invictus
Tonight I saw Invictus, starring Morgan Freeman and Matt Damon.
At the start of the film, Nelson Mandela (Freeman) is just being released from prison and assuming his role as the South African President.
He knows that as he forgives a nation that imprisoned him, he also needs to earn the respect and support of the very people he's forgiving and unify South Africa. Instead of going the traditional route of politics (or not even trying at all), he cleverly goes about it through sport: the traditionally white sport of rugby.
Enter Francois Pienaar (Damon), the Afrikaner rugby captain of the not-so-successful Sprinbok team. He seems like a nice enough guy, but obviously comes from privilege and perhaps is not yet enlightened to Mandela's ability to lead.
Mandela invites him for tea and an instant mutual respect is born—with desirable results for both parties.
The President infuses the captain with the will and inspiration to create a winning team; in doing so the captain begins to build something that all South Africans can agree on. And the rest is somewhat predictable (especially if you know your South African history).
So is the movie good? Sure. Morgan Freeman (who truly resembles Mandela) is always a pleasure to watch and Matt Damon impresses me more and more with every role. In this one, he seems comfortable in the pretty-boy skin, yet still stretches with an African accent.
There are moments of pause that probably wouldn't be there if Clint Eastwood hadn't directed it, but there are also sentimental seconds that last just long enough to bring a tear. Really, a fine balance.
I wish I understood rugby more because the game scenes are aplenty, but I still enjoyed the story nonetheless.
It's just one tiny piece of Mandela's incredible rise to power, and it made me want to see more.
At the start of the film, Nelson Mandela (Freeman) is just being released from prison and assuming his role as the South African President.
He knows that as he forgives a nation that imprisoned him, he also needs to earn the respect and support of the very people he's forgiving and unify South Africa. Instead of going the traditional route of politics (or not even trying at all), he cleverly goes about it through sport: the traditionally white sport of rugby.
Enter Francois Pienaar (Damon), the Afrikaner rugby captain of the not-so-successful Sprinbok team. He seems like a nice enough guy, but obviously comes from privilege and perhaps is not yet enlightened to Mandela's ability to lead.
Mandela invites him for tea and an instant mutual respect is born—with desirable results for both parties.
The President infuses the captain with the will and inspiration to create a winning team; in doing so the captain begins to build something that all South Africans can agree on. And the rest is somewhat predictable (especially if you know your South African history).
So is the movie good? Sure. Morgan Freeman (who truly resembles Mandela) is always a pleasure to watch and Matt Damon impresses me more and more with every role. In this one, he seems comfortable in the pretty-boy skin, yet still stretches with an African accent.
There are moments of pause that probably wouldn't be there if Clint Eastwood hadn't directed it, but there are also sentimental seconds that last just long enough to bring a tear. Really, a fine balance.
I wish I understood rugby more because the game scenes are aplenty, but I still enjoyed the story nonetheless.
It's just one tiny piece of Mandela's incredible rise to power, and it made me want to see more.
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
(Disney's) A Christmas Carol
Last night I saw A Christmas Carol, directed by Robert Zemeckis.
To adapt one of the most well-known stories in literature can't be an easy task, but I admire anyone who strives for it, including Zemeckis.
His animated approach (using technology similar to his previous hit The Polar Express) is ambitious and intricate. When you're taken into Scrooge's neighborhood in the first few frames of the film, you're undoubtedly stepping into Dickens' England. Not only do the buildings and streets appear real, the faces of the characters are much closer to actual human likenesses than any other animated film to date. Even the cleavage on the dancing women is convincing. Yes, I said cleavage.
And that brings me to my next point: this is not a movie for young children. Because the dialog stays very faithful to the original text (and that's a good thing), many of the scenes are dark and frightening. The spirits (except for maybe the Ghost of Christmas Present, who is somewhat goofy) will seem creepy even to adults. The Grim Reaper-like essence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come elevates the evil to a definite PG level.
The voices are also startling--though Jim Carrey provides the pipes for Scrooge AND all three spirits. The action scenes (mostly Scrooge being transported from place to place) are also extremely loud, and if you see it in IMAX as I did, you may want to pack some earplugs.
So how does this version measure up to previous versions? Well, nothing can beat the classic live action version in 1951 starring Alastair Sim or the more popular George C. Scott interpretation from 1984. But as far as making the original images from the book illustrations and the story come to life, this is as good as it gets.
The timeless lesson is as relevant today as when Dickens' wrote it in 1843. At the core of the film is a delightful old story about a man who has to battle his inner-demons to realize what life should be all about. One can only contemplate what our world would be like if everyone were held to such an extreme manner of self-evaluation.
To adapt one of the most well-known stories in literature can't be an easy task, but I admire anyone who strives for it, including Zemeckis.
His animated approach (using technology similar to his previous hit The Polar Express) is ambitious and intricate. When you're taken into Scrooge's neighborhood in the first few frames of the film, you're undoubtedly stepping into Dickens' England. Not only do the buildings and streets appear real, the faces of the characters are much closer to actual human likenesses than any other animated film to date. Even the cleavage on the dancing women is convincing. Yes, I said cleavage.
And that brings me to my next point: this is not a movie for young children. Because the dialog stays very faithful to the original text (and that's a good thing), many of the scenes are dark and frightening. The spirits (except for maybe the Ghost of Christmas Present, who is somewhat goofy) will seem creepy even to adults. The Grim Reaper-like essence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come elevates the evil to a definite PG level.
The voices are also startling--though Jim Carrey provides the pipes for Scrooge AND all three spirits. The action scenes (mostly Scrooge being transported from place to place) are also extremely loud, and if you see it in IMAX as I did, you may want to pack some earplugs.
So how does this version measure up to previous versions? Well, nothing can beat the classic live action version in 1951 starring Alastair Sim or the more popular George C. Scott interpretation from 1984. But as far as making the original images from the book illustrations and the story come to life, this is as good as it gets.
The timeless lesson is as relevant today as when Dickens' wrote it in 1843. At the core of the film is a delightful old story about a man who has to battle his inner-demons to realize what life should be all about. One can only contemplate what our world would be like if everyone were held to such an extreme manner of self-evaluation.
Thursday, December 03, 2009
The Maid
Tonight I screened The Maid, starring Catalina Saavedra and Mariana Loyola.
Raquel (Saavedra) is not someone you'd want to be friends with. As the maid for the Pilar family, she throws away gifts they purchase for her, eats alone (though she's apparently welcome to join them), hides snacks from the children, and accidentally-on-purpose forgets simple instructions when she gets angry with the teenagers.
But this isn't a Cinderella situation. Although the kids can be a little demanding, they're really not so bad and their parents (her bosses) treat her exceptionally well. It seems Raquel is just burnt out—she's been working in the same home all of her adult life and never learned how to have fun. Her cooking and cleaning routine is so robotic, just watching her execute it makes you tired.
When she starts having headaches and exhibits signs of dizziness, the Pilars think it's time to bring in some additional staff. Raquel mistakes these extra ladies as a threat and does everything in her power to drive them away.
These scenes are at once sad and comical because she really is awful to everyone, but you can't help but empathize with her. Raquel's life—by her own design—is confined to one room of a house, which contains a twin bed, a small nightstand and one tiny photo album of snapshots. All of the pictures we see in the album are of Raquel and the Pilar family. Aside from a phone call from her mother on her birthday, we see no evidence that Raquel has a family of her own.
But even in the photographs, we're witnessing the past. It seems that over time Raquel's connections to other human beings got lost in the shuffle and she has no idea how to regain them.
Enter Lucy (Loyola)—a sprite of a woman who moves in when Raquel is deemed too ill to continue her duties. Lucy is loud, frank, honest and most importantly: she's not afraid of Raquel. It seems The Maid has met her match.
What transpires is both shocking and delightful in equal measure, and nearly every character in the film (except for Dad, whose only purpose seems to be building model ships) is made to be more endearing as a result. The performances of the leading ladies especially, should be commended.
The film will keep you entertained and interested throughout no matter how well you do or don't relate to its characters. And for those who have ever had times of isolation or loneliness, you may just find yourself choking back tears.
~~~
Raquel (Saavedra) is not someone you'd want to be friends with. As the maid for the Pilar family, she throws away gifts they purchase for her, eats alone (though she's apparently welcome to join them), hides snacks from the children, and accidentally-on-purpose forgets simple instructions when she gets angry with the teenagers.
But this isn't a Cinderella situation. Although the kids can be a little demanding, they're really not so bad and their parents (her bosses) treat her exceptionally well. It seems Raquel is just burnt out—she's been working in the same home all of her adult life and never learned how to have fun. Her cooking and cleaning routine is so robotic, just watching her execute it makes you tired.
When she starts having headaches and exhibits signs of dizziness, the Pilars think it's time to bring in some additional staff. Raquel mistakes these extra ladies as a threat and does everything in her power to drive them away.
These scenes are at once sad and comical because she really is awful to everyone, but you can't help but empathize with her. Raquel's life—by her own design—is confined to one room of a house, which contains a twin bed, a small nightstand and one tiny photo album of snapshots. All of the pictures we see in the album are of Raquel and the Pilar family. Aside from a phone call from her mother on her birthday, we see no evidence that Raquel has a family of her own.
But even in the photographs, we're witnessing the past. It seems that over time Raquel's connections to other human beings got lost in the shuffle and she has no idea how to regain them.
Enter Lucy (Loyola)—a sprite of a woman who moves in when Raquel is deemed too ill to continue her duties. Lucy is loud, frank, honest and most importantly: she's not afraid of Raquel. It seems The Maid has met her match.
What transpires is both shocking and delightful in equal measure, and nearly every character in the film (except for Dad, whose only purpose seems to be building model ships) is made to be more endearing as a result. The performances of the leading ladies especially, should be commended.
The film will keep you entertained and interested throughout no matter how well you do or don't relate to its characters. And for those who have ever had times of isolation or loneliness, you may just find yourself choking back tears.
~~~
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
The Blind Side
This morning I saw The Blind Side, starring Sandra Bullock and Quinton Aaron.
The story is filled with all sorts of characters that would seem unappealing: society wives, stereotypical African Americans, likable republicans, annoying children, etc. But the remarkable thing is that it works.
Big Mike (Aaron) is a from-the-streets neglected teenager who is granted a private school education due to the persuasion of a football coach. His grades are awful, his social skills are non-existent and no one, save for one obligatory teacher, seems to be on his side.
Enter Leanne Tuohy (Bullock), the mother of two students at Big Mike's school and a respected member of Memphis high society. As her family is driving home from a school play one chilly night, she sees Big Mike walking down the street in shorts and a T-shirt. She forces her husband to stop the car (sidenote: whatever she wants, her husband apparently delivers) and offers the young man their couch for a night. He reluctantly accepts and ends up spending the Thanksgiving holiday with the family.
When they realize he has no where else to go, they invite him to live in their guest room, where he is presented with the first bed he's ever owned. Yes, it's a tear jerker.
Basically, the entire movie centers around Leanne's (uncharacteristically) selfless actions and Michael's secretive, troubled past. Both parties are understandably slow to trust one another, but somehow the love that surfaces takes care of that.
Because this is based on a true story, I cut it some slack for being unapologetic in its sappiness. I found myself tearing up about every 15 or 20 minutes, but that was okay because I knew what I was in for when I bought the ticket. Boy needs home, boy gets home, boy plays football.
The film is very predictable (because the audience will wonder why the movie was made if things didn't turn out well), but when the acting is as good as it is here, it's not hard to stay with the scenes and enjoy the way they unfold.
Sophisticated drama this is not, but if you need a dose of your faith in humanity renewed, you could do worse than this film.
I'm glad there are real people out there like Leanne Tuohy, and I didn't mind spending a few hours with her character.
~~~
The story is filled with all sorts of characters that would seem unappealing: society wives, stereotypical African Americans, likable republicans, annoying children, etc. But the remarkable thing is that it works.
Big Mike (Aaron) is a from-the-streets neglected teenager who is granted a private school education due to the persuasion of a football coach. His grades are awful, his social skills are non-existent and no one, save for one obligatory teacher, seems to be on his side.
Enter Leanne Tuohy (Bullock), the mother of two students at Big Mike's school and a respected member of Memphis high society. As her family is driving home from a school play one chilly night, she sees Big Mike walking down the street in shorts and a T-shirt. She forces her husband to stop the car (sidenote: whatever she wants, her husband apparently delivers) and offers the young man their couch for a night. He reluctantly accepts and ends up spending the Thanksgiving holiday with the family.
When they realize he has no where else to go, they invite him to live in their guest room, where he is presented with the first bed he's ever owned. Yes, it's a tear jerker.
Basically, the entire movie centers around Leanne's (uncharacteristically) selfless actions and Michael's secretive, troubled past. Both parties are understandably slow to trust one another, but somehow the love that surfaces takes care of that.
Because this is based on a true story, I cut it some slack for being unapologetic in its sappiness. I found myself tearing up about every 15 or 20 minutes, but that was okay because I knew what I was in for when I bought the ticket. Boy needs home, boy gets home, boy plays football.
The film is very predictable (because the audience will wonder why the movie was made if things didn't turn out well), but when the acting is as good as it is here, it's not hard to stay with the scenes and enjoy the way they unfold.
Sophisticated drama this is not, but if you need a dose of your faith in humanity renewed, you could do worse than this film.
I'm glad there are real people out there like Leanne Tuohy, and I didn't mind spending a few hours with her character.
~~~
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Couples Retreat
Tonight I saw Couples Retreat, starring (and written by) Vince Vaughn and Jon Favreau.
The film begins by introducing us to four couples: one that appears very average, another that seems detached, one that's clearly just about the sex, and the last who are very obviously having problems.
The couple who are struggling to reproduce (played by Jason Bateman and Kristen Bell) are in the process of deciding whether or not their marriage is worth saving when they find a special resort called "Eden," which claims to help folks find their way back to one another. The trouble is, the place is very expensive, and to be able to afford the visit, they need to talk three other couples into going with them. This happens, almost too easily, and before we know it we're transported to a Bora Bora-like paradise.
Of course, the other three couples feel as if they don't need to follow the "program" of therapy and want to spend the time there as if on vacation—but that wasn't the deal. To enjoy the benefits of "Eden" they must complete the planned activities. So, they do. Sort of.
And here's where the movie turns from borderline charming to undeniably predictable: the couple who thought they were happy turns out to have problems that surface during therapy; the couple who are sincerely trying to work out their issues are so focused on the plan, they've forgotten how to communicate with one another. And so forth.
The somewhat believable premise is then compromised by a series of ridiculous situations (a husband who requests a female massage therapist and then gets aroused when she touches him; a sexually suggestive yoga instructor). These scenes feel like they would be more at home on a network sitcom than in a feature film, and the laughs are few and far between.
It's almost as if Vaughn and Favreau wanted to take a snapshot of their lives at this age (as they successfully did years ago with Swingers) and found that reality as a 30 or 40-something isn't as fun as reality as a 20-something.
Perhaps the film would've been better if they'd just captured the heart they were going for and channeled it into a drama instead. Or even a dramedy.
This film felt like the writers were trying too hard to make light of poor choices that many real people make in life. And it just wasn't that funny.
~~~
The film begins by introducing us to four couples: one that appears very average, another that seems detached, one that's clearly just about the sex, and the last who are very obviously having problems.
The couple who are struggling to reproduce (played by Jason Bateman and Kristen Bell) are in the process of deciding whether or not their marriage is worth saving when they find a special resort called "Eden," which claims to help folks find their way back to one another. The trouble is, the place is very expensive, and to be able to afford the visit, they need to talk three other couples into going with them. This happens, almost too easily, and before we know it we're transported to a Bora Bora-like paradise.
Of course, the other three couples feel as if they don't need to follow the "program" of therapy and want to spend the time there as if on vacation—but that wasn't the deal. To enjoy the benefits of "Eden" they must complete the planned activities. So, they do. Sort of.
And here's where the movie turns from borderline charming to undeniably predictable: the couple who thought they were happy turns out to have problems that surface during therapy; the couple who are sincerely trying to work out their issues are so focused on the plan, they've forgotten how to communicate with one another. And so forth.
The somewhat believable premise is then compromised by a series of ridiculous situations (a husband who requests a female massage therapist and then gets aroused when she touches him; a sexually suggestive yoga instructor). These scenes feel like they would be more at home on a network sitcom than in a feature film, and the laughs are few and far between.
It's almost as if Vaughn and Favreau wanted to take a snapshot of their lives at this age (as they successfully did years ago with Swingers) and found that reality as a 30 or 40-something isn't as fun as reality as a 20-something.
Perhaps the film would've been better if they'd just captured the heart they were going for and channeled it into a drama instead. Or even a dramedy.
This film felt like the writers were trying too hard to make light of poor choices that many real people make in life. And it just wasn't that funny.
~~~
Friday, November 13, 2009
2012
Tonight I saw 2012, starring John Cusack and Chiwetel Ejiofor.
Let me first state: it's completely ridiculous.
John Cusack plays author Jackson Curtis who seems to be late for everything in life: work, picking his kids up for a camping trip, saving his family from apocalyptic catastrophe, etc. When we meet him, he has overslept and is rushing to his ex-wife's house to collect the children for a Yellowstone expedition.
Chiwetel Ejiofor plays a geologist who we first meet in India, where he's visiting his friend, an astrophysicist, and working on a serious government assignment.
Uh-oh. The earth isn't behaving like it's supposed to. The "earth crust displacement" (a real-life theory by a 1950s American scientist) isn't supposed to go down for at least a few more years, but temperatures are heating up so it's time to crash a party in Washington, D.C. and let the head honchos know.
As you can imagine, this doesn't go down well across the globe. And it all falls on the U.S. (though it was the Indian astrophysicist who really cracked the case) to organize the evacuations and sell tickets aboard monster ships built to withstand the disastrous impact.
Luckily for audience members, 2012 looks a whole lot like 2009, so it's relatable. The Terminator is still the Governor of California, the President is still black and grocery stores are even stocking the same issues of Rolling Stone (I noticed one on the shelf that featured U2 promoting their album No Line on the Horizon, which came out earlier this year).
It's not hard to imagine how greatly we'd all freak out if confronted with such havoc because like the citizens in the movie, they gave us no time to prepare.
But that's when it gets fun.
After a cameo from Woody Harrelson (as a crazy hippie with all the answers) and a few establishing scenes to let us know Cusack isn't winning any Father of the Year awards, we have liftoff as California falls off into the ocean (literally).
Luckily, Jackson is able to get his family (and his ex's boyfriend) into a rented airplane in the nick of time to escape the destruction. These scenes aren't as suspenseful as they should be (how could they not make it out when the movie's barely begun), but I'll be happy to admit I enjoyed the effects immensely.
After California is gone, we see Vegas go and then other handpicked cities/monuments that are cool to watch explode. I must emphasize: if you like explosions, this is the film for you!
In between massive explosions you'll find cheesy one-liners, awkward 'almost' romances, brave kids, regretful parents, asshole government reps, righteous scientists and repeated product placement (Bentley™ and Pull-Ups® must've spent a fortune).
I spent more time laughing than I did recoiling in horror or gasping in surprise. But that's okay—I still had a good time at the end of the world.
~~~
Let me first state: it's completely ridiculous.
John Cusack plays author Jackson Curtis who seems to be late for everything in life: work, picking his kids up for a camping trip, saving his family from apocalyptic catastrophe, etc. When we meet him, he has overslept and is rushing to his ex-wife's house to collect the children for a Yellowstone expedition.
Chiwetel Ejiofor plays a geologist who we first meet in India, where he's visiting his friend, an astrophysicist, and working on a serious government assignment.
Uh-oh. The earth isn't behaving like it's supposed to. The "earth crust displacement" (a real-life theory by a 1950s American scientist) isn't supposed to go down for at least a few more years, but temperatures are heating up so it's time to crash a party in Washington, D.C. and let the head honchos know.
As you can imagine, this doesn't go down well across the globe. And it all falls on the U.S. (though it was the Indian astrophysicist who really cracked the case) to organize the evacuations and sell tickets aboard monster ships built to withstand the disastrous impact.
Luckily for audience members, 2012 looks a whole lot like 2009, so it's relatable. The Terminator is still the Governor of California, the President is still black and grocery stores are even stocking the same issues of Rolling Stone (I noticed one on the shelf that featured U2 promoting their album No Line on the Horizon, which came out earlier this year).
It's not hard to imagine how greatly we'd all freak out if confronted with such havoc because like the citizens in the movie, they gave us no time to prepare.
But that's when it gets fun.
After a cameo from Woody Harrelson (as a crazy hippie with all the answers) and a few establishing scenes to let us know Cusack isn't winning any Father of the Year awards, we have liftoff as California falls off into the ocean (literally).
Luckily, Jackson is able to get his family (and his ex's boyfriend) into a rented airplane in the nick of time to escape the destruction. These scenes aren't as suspenseful as they should be (how could they not make it out when the movie's barely begun), but I'll be happy to admit I enjoyed the effects immensely.
After California is gone, we see Vegas go and then other handpicked cities/monuments that are cool to watch explode. I must emphasize: if you like explosions, this is the film for you!
In between massive explosions you'll find cheesy one-liners, awkward 'almost' romances, brave kids, regretful parents, asshole government reps, righteous scientists and repeated product placement (Bentley™ and Pull-Ups® must've spent a fortune).
I spent more time laughing than I did recoiling in horror or gasping in surprise. But that's okay—I still had a good time at the end of the world.
~~~
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
This Is It
Tonight I saw the documentary This is It, directed by Kenny Ortega.
When I was about seven years old, MTV began playing three videos in heavy rotation that would re-define pop music: "Billie Jean", "Beat It" and "Thriller". They were all superb songs and they were all by Michael Jackson.
When I brought home my fold-out vinyl of the Thriller album, I momentarily put away my beloved U2 and Pat Benatar to absorb its greatness. I bought a sticker from a grocery store vending machine and used a straight pin to attach it to my jacket (which resembled one of Michael's). I also, as an aspiring young writer, carried with me a tiny notepad bearing his likeness on the cover (I still remember the yellow sweater he was wearing). He was the moonwalker—he was magic.
Then things took a turn for the worse and fame seemed to eat my prized star alive. His skin changed color, his face changed shape and horrible allegations surfaced in the coming years that he conducted inappropriate relationships with young boys. After his follow up album Bad, which really was quite Good, his music faltered as well.
He was always fascinating to watch whether he was showing up for court appearances "looking like Captain Crunch" (as Chris Rock so humorously pointed out), or dancing his way across a stage. But I really thought he lost his mind when I watched the Martin Bashir documentary Living With Michael Jackson a few years back. He'd named his youngest son Blanket, admitted to having children sleep in his bed with him and blatantly lied about how many times he'd had plastic surgery. There wasn't much left of the sweet kid from the Jackson 5.
After dismissing him, like many, I forgot about him. I went on about my life.
And then in June word came that Michael had gone into cardiac arrest and fallen into some sort of coma. I learned of this at work and found it difficult to turn CNN off as I finished my days' duties. I turned the audio live feed on as I filed papers and wrote Web pages. I heard of his death announcement live. I got goosebumps; I felt sick. Why? Because at the end of the day, looking past all of the questions of his character, the world lost an immense talent.
Now, we're left with this documentary that could easily have been released even if he had lived. It's that good.
We see director/choreographer Kenny Ortega and Michael himself leading a group of hundreds through the taxing rehearsals for what would've been his "final curtain call." From choosing the finest dancers to forming a family within the performance circle, the team functions as a productive, joyous machine. It's an incredible amount of hard work, but the mood is remarkably calm and positive—mostly a testament to Michael's lack of ego.
I'm not saying he didn't have one. Of course he had several people on hand to attend to him (which the audience doesn't see much of), but with his singers and dancers and crew, the man is nothing short of a team player. He works just as hard (or harder) than they do and takes obvious pleasure when they all perform well. After watching him in action, you want to jump on stage and join him.
It does help that the songs hold up, too. The elaborate appearing-within-a-classic-film production that surrounds "Smooth Criminal" would've made a wonderful video (if a wonderful video for the same song didn't already exist) and seeing Michael sing and do the "Thriller" dance front and center over 20 years later nearly made me giddy.
This wasn't a man who looked strung out on anything but a natural high. In fact, when he launched into some old Jackson 5 tunes, I wondered if the mood would turn melancholy, but it didn't. Then I realized, in all of his miserable childhood, the one place he was probably genuinely happy was on stage, singing those songs. No one could touch him there—everyone was proud of his talent.
And he was brimming with talent. Right up until the end (some of the footage in the film was taken less than two days prior to his death) his voice was strong, his dance was graceful and his spirits were soaring.
Had he lived, he appears to have been up for the challenge of 50 consecutive concerts, perhaps more so than any other performer.
Kudos to Kenny Ortega for giving us all a peek at what might have been.
~~~
When I was about seven years old, MTV began playing three videos in heavy rotation that would re-define pop music: "Billie Jean", "Beat It" and "Thriller". They were all superb songs and they were all by Michael Jackson.
When I brought home my fold-out vinyl of the Thriller album, I momentarily put away my beloved U2 and Pat Benatar to absorb its greatness. I bought a sticker from a grocery store vending machine and used a straight pin to attach it to my jacket (which resembled one of Michael's). I also, as an aspiring young writer, carried with me a tiny notepad bearing his likeness on the cover (I still remember the yellow sweater he was wearing). He was the moonwalker—he was magic.
Then things took a turn for the worse and fame seemed to eat my prized star alive. His skin changed color, his face changed shape and horrible allegations surfaced in the coming years that he conducted inappropriate relationships with young boys. After his follow up album Bad, which really was quite Good, his music faltered as well.
He was always fascinating to watch whether he was showing up for court appearances "looking like Captain Crunch" (as Chris Rock so humorously pointed out), or dancing his way across a stage. But I really thought he lost his mind when I watched the Martin Bashir documentary Living With Michael Jackson a few years back. He'd named his youngest son Blanket, admitted to having children sleep in his bed with him and blatantly lied about how many times he'd had plastic surgery. There wasn't much left of the sweet kid from the Jackson 5.
After dismissing him, like many, I forgot about him. I went on about my life.
And then in June word came that Michael had gone into cardiac arrest and fallen into some sort of coma. I learned of this at work and found it difficult to turn CNN off as I finished my days' duties. I turned the audio live feed on as I filed papers and wrote Web pages. I heard of his death announcement live. I got goosebumps; I felt sick. Why? Because at the end of the day, looking past all of the questions of his character, the world lost an immense talent.
Now, we're left with this documentary that could easily have been released even if he had lived. It's that good.
We see director/choreographer Kenny Ortega and Michael himself leading a group of hundreds through the taxing rehearsals for what would've been his "final curtain call." From choosing the finest dancers to forming a family within the performance circle, the team functions as a productive, joyous machine. It's an incredible amount of hard work, but the mood is remarkably calm and positive—mostly a testament to Michael's lack of ego.
I'm not saying he didn't have one. Of course he had several people on hand to attend to him (which the audience doesn't see much of), but with his singers and dancers and crew, the man is nothing short of a team player. He works just as hard (or harder) than they do and takes obvious pleasure when they all perform well. After watching him in action, you want to jump on stage and join him.
It does help that the songs hold up, too. The elaborate appearing-within-a-classic-film production that surrounds "Smooth Criminal" would've made a wonderful video (if a wonderful video for the same song didn't already exist) and seeing Michael sing and do the "Thriller" dance front and center over 20 years later nearly made me giddy.
This wasn't a man who looked strung out on anything but a natural high. In fact, when he launched into some old Jackson 5 tunes, I wondered if the mood would turn melancholy, but it didn't. Then I realized, in all of his miserable childhood, the one place he was probably genuinely happy was on stage, singing those songs. No one could touch him there—everyone was proud of his talent.
And he was brimming with talent. Right up until the end (some of the footage in the film was taken less than two days prior to his death) his voice was strong, his dance was graceful and his spirits were soaring.
Had he lived, he appears to have been up for the challenge of 50 consecutive concerts, perhaps more so than any other performer.
Kudos to Kenny Ortega for giving us all a peek at what might have been.
~~~
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
Act of God
Tonight I saw the documentary Act of God, directed by Jennifer Baichwal.
The film centers around folks who have been struck by lightning or have lost someone close to them because of a lightning strike.
If only the narrative had some coherence.
The first story told is compelling: a man and presumably his mother sit inside a cabin-like house in the woods and recall stories of happier times. Parties were held, drinks were enjoyed and both agreed at one time this was a great place to be. But years ago that all changed when "the boys" were out camping in those woods and got struck by lightning. The survivor who is telling the story recounts ambulances arriving, watching others go unconscious, watching a dying friend vomit up his blackened insides, etc. It was a horrible tale, but I wanted to hear more.
Unfortunately, that was the most interesting story in the bunch.
Another man found "God" or purpose, or whatever it shall be labeled and began working with dying veterans; a religious Mexican woman lost her children and accepted it as God's will to make them young angels. Yet another man read poems about camp as a youth in NY (where lightning claimed his buddy) set to overly dramatic guitar music.
About a quarter of the way through, I'd had enough.
The trailer leads one to believe the story is about how folks are changed after surviving a lightning strike; the film instead emphasizes how evil/dangerous concentrated electricity really is, and tries to package that information in an artistic, creative format that just doesn't work.
The result is a pretentious mish-mash of shots that are way too long of stories that aren't all that interesting.
The concept should never be the strongest part of a film.
~~~
The film centers around folks who have been struck by lightning or have lost someone close to them because of a lightning strike.
If only the narrative had some coherence.
The first story told is compelling: a man and presumably his mother sit inside a cabin-like house in the woods and recall stories of happier times. Parties were held, drinks were enjoyed and both agreed at one time this was a great place to be. But years ago that all changed when "the boys" were out camping in those woods and got struck by lightning. The survivor who is telling the story recounts ambulances arriving, watching others go unconscious, watching a dying friend vomit up his blackened insides, etc. It was a horrible tale, but I wanted to hear more.
Unfortunately, that was the most interesting story in the bunch.
Another man found "God" or purpose, or whatever it shall be labeled and began working with dying veterans; a religious Mexican woman lost her children and accepted it as God's will to make them young angels. Yet another man read poems about camp as a youth in NY (where lightning claimed his buddy) set to overly dramatic guitar music.
About a quarter of the way through, I'd had enough.
The trailer leads one to believe the story is about how folks are changed after surviving a lightning strike; the film instead emphasizes how evil/dangerous concentrated electricity really is, and tries to package that information in an artistic, creative format that just doesn't work.
The result is a pretentious mish-mash of shots that are way too long of stories that aren't all that interesting.
The concept should never be the strongest part of a film.
~~~
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Capitalism: A Love Story
Tonight I saw the latest Michael Moore documentary Capitalism: A Love Story.
The man is nothing if not entertaining.
True to form, the film is laced with "stunts" that are almost funnier in the trailer (trying to make a citizen's arrest on the execs on Wall Street; arriving in an armored truck at banks to take America's money back). What's better are his sincere interviews with experts in the economic field and stories of individuals who were affected by the collapse.
One family had their farm house mortgage go from a manageable $1700 to an impossible $2700 per month, and surrendered the home to foreclosure. Aside from losing their physical living space, they were sacrificing some of their history, said the wife, who had the farm in her family for decades. She is seen fiercely chopping flowers from a bush in her yard to perhaps preserve something of the original land as the eviction staff simultaneously collects house keys from her husband. They were paid a whopping $1000 to prepare the property for the next owners.
Another family, with a Mom and Dad who worked for Wal-Mart, were shocked to find that Wal-Mart collected the life insurance money when Mom passed away suddenly from a severe asthma problem. Though Dad had over $100,000 in medical bills to pay after her death, and a $6,000 funeral, Wal-Mart offered nothing to help with the expenses. And he'd been a loyal employee of theirs most of his adult life who still had three kids to support.
Perhaps the most unsettling stories were those of our commercial airline pilots—some who are forced to collect food stamps because their pay is so low ($17,000 was one quoted salary). Others take on second jobs, which obviously could exhaust them physically and hinder their ability to do their day job, which is keeping us flying customers in the air. How can we pay fast food managers more than we pay our skilled pilots?
Moore blames capitalism for all of these woes, but I have to disagree and blame it on corporate greed (and yes, there is a difference).
He shows an example of a completely productive co-op bread-making company in California, where the assembly line workers make the same salaries (an impressive $65,000) as the CEO. Granted, the model is very socialist in its principles, but at the end of the day, they are functioning as tax-paying capitalists. The more bread they sell, the higher their paychecks.
I see nothing wrong with that. In fact, if there was a branch of the bread-baking company in Seattle, I'd probably apply to be a baker. Or a packager. Or any other job where I could punch in, do my thing in a pleasant environment and go home without worry of being laid off or the need to take on freelance writing gigs to fund my rare vacations. The argument is in a backward way in favor of capitalism: make a good product, create demand for it and reap the benefits.
At the heart of the economic collapse in our country was greed. Greed mixed with big government mixed with deregulation.
I wanted to stand up and cheer when I learned our President recently supported a group of workers in Chicago that refused to leave the plant they were fired from without sufficient severance packages. They went about their protest in a peaceful way and got exactly what they demanded from the notorious Bank of America. Kudos to them, and kudos to President Obama for sticking to his principles despite election contributions he received from the bankers in question. I'm happy his values can't be bought, and I'm happy I voted for him.
America is finally moving in the right direction by putting votes toward those who inspire real change (kudos to the female rep. from Ohio who is featured fighting for what's right), and for that I can say Moore's unpopular film tactics still serve a purpose.
Though I don't agree that capitalism is inherently evil, or that it can't work, I do support his motivation to bring power to the people.
If we don't act on these human injustices, who will?
~~~
The man is nothing if not entertaining.
True to form, the film is laced with "stunts" that are almost funnier in the trailer (trying to make a citizen's arrest on the execs on Wall Street; arriving in an armored truck at banks to take America's money back). What's better are his sincere interviews with experts in the economic field and stories of individuals who were affected by the collapse.
One family had their farm house mortgage go from a manageable $1700 to an impossible $2700 per month, and surrendered the home to foreclosure. Aside from losing their physical living space, they were sacrificing some of their history, said the wife, who had the farm in her family for decades. She is seen fiercely chopping flowers from a bush in her yard to perhaps preserve something of the original land as the eviction staff simultaneously collects house keys from her husband. They were paid a whopping $1000 to prepare the property for the next owners.
Another family, with a Mom and Dad who worked for Wal-Mart, were shocked to find that Wal-Mart collected the life insurance money when Mom passed away suddenly from a severe asthma problem. Though Dad had over $100,000 in medical bills to pay after her death, and a $6,000 funeral, Wal-Mart offered nothing to help with the expenses. And he'd been a loyal employee of theirs most of his adult life who still had three kids to support.
Perhaps the most unsettling stories were those of our commercial airline pilots—some who are forced to collect food stamps because their pay is so low ($17,000 was one quoted salary). Others take on second jobs, which obviously could exhaust them physically and hinder their ability to do their day job, which is keeping us flying customers in the air. How can we pay fast food managers more than we pay our skilled pilots?
Moore blames capitalism for all of these woes, but I have to disagree and blame it on corporate greed (and yes, there is a difference).
He shows an example of a completely productive co-op bread-making company in California, where the assembly line workers make the same salaries (an impressive $65,000) as the CEO. Granted, the model is very socialist in its principles, but at the end of the day, they are functioning as tax-paying capitalists. The more bread they sell, the higher their paychecks.
I see nothing wrong with that. In fact, if there was a branch of the bread-baking company in Seattle, I'd probably apply to be a baker. Or a packager. Or any other job where I could punch in, do my thing in a pleasant environment and go home without worry of being laid off or the need to take on freelance writing gigs to fund my rare vacations. The argument is in a backward way in favor of capitalism: make a good product, create demand for it and reap the benefits.
At the heart of the economic collapse in our country was greed. Greed mixed with big government mixed with deregulation.
I wanted to stand up and cheer when I learned our President recently supported a group of workers in Chicago that refused to leave the plant they were fired from without sufficient severance packages. They went about their protest in a peaceful way and got exactly what they demanded from the notorious Bank of America. Kudos to them, and kudos to President Obama for sticking to his principles despite election contributions he received from the bankers in question. I'm happy his values can't be bought, and I'm happy I voted for him.
America is finally moving in the right direction by putting votes toward those who inspire real change (kudos to the female rep. from Ohio who is featured fighting for what's right), and for that I can say Moore's unpopular film tactics still serve a purpose.
Though I don't agree that capitalism is inherently evil, or that it can't work, I do support his motivation to bring power to the people.
If we don't act on these human injustices, who will?
~~~
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)