Iron Man 2

Tonight I saw Iron Man 2, starring Robert Downey, Jr. and Mickey Rourke.

It was the topic of Cinebanter 89, which is available here.

Cinebanter Featured on Sodapop Journal

My podcast partner (Michael) and I are featured in this week's Sodapop Journal, sharing our summer movie picks.

You can read the article here.

Be sure to also share your summer picks in the comments section!

The Square

Today I saw The Square, starring David Roberts and Claire van der Boom.

It was the topic of Cinebanter #88, which is available here.

~~~

Paulista

On Saturday, I screened Paulista, starring Silvia Lourenço and Maria Clara Spinelli.

When Marina (Lourenço), an aspiring actress, moves in with Suzana (Spinelli), her life is injected with opportunities that never seemed possible before. The street they live on in Sao Paulo, Avenida Paulista, is brimming with promise--socially and otherwise.

As we meet each character, we learn that they all share a connection to one another, much like a small town transported to a big city. There's Jay, who has fallen in love with a hooker, and he just happens to live in the same building as Marina and Suzana. Justine, a singer at a nearby club, quickly becomes the object of Marina's affection, and so forth.

None of the characters are boring and all of the situations presented (love, mystery, longing) keep you watching, but at the same time, none of what's happening is particularly unique.

I found the pace and transitions of Paulista to be very similar to that of the classic TV show miniseries Tales of the City, which was set in San Francisco. At the heart of both works is a message of people needing people, with a focus on how complicated our human desires and needs for validation can be.

Paulista is a sexy, enjoyable romp about a group of young people in the prime of their lives. Nothing more, nothing less.


~~~

Hot Tub Time Machine

This morning I saw Hot Tub Time Machine, starring John Cusack and Rob Corddry.

It was the topic of Cinebanter #86, which is available here.

Alice in Wonderland

Tonight I saw Alice in Wonderland, starring Mia Wasikowska and Johnny Depp.

I must confess: as a child I never liked the famed Lewis Carroll book. It simply creeped me out. I had a wild imagination of my own and the last place I wanted to take it was to a world with black holes and talking cats.

But tonight, my love for the creative fusion of Tim Burton and Johnny Depp won out over the unfavorable memories I had of the story, and I sat through the whole film. I'm so glad I did.

Mia Wasikowska is the very picture of a perfect Alice (except her hair was too curly, but I digress), and she's all grown up. In fact, she's just been proposed to by a boy she's not in love with and needs to escape the situation to take some time and think. She finds the perfect excuse to depart as she spots a rabbit in a waistcoat in her peripheral vision, then bolts away after it, only to fall down a big black hole.

Upon landing she's in a place she once called Wonderland (though she has no memory of ever visiting before) where she encounters all types of interesting characters: the Mad Hatter (Depp), Tweedledee and Tweedledum (Matt Lucas), the Cheshire Cat (Stephen Fry) and a pair of sister queens—one good and one bad.

The good one is the White Queen (Anne Hathaway) who lives in a white palace with white things surrounding her. She seems sweet if not a little bit spacey.

The bad one is the Red Queen (Helena Bonham Carter) who suffers from harboring a huge head and a horrible demeanor to go with it. "Off with his head" is a common phrase she screams, perhaps because she wishes she could rid herself of her own.

Anyway, somehow Alice gets caught up in the drama between sisters and has to slay the Jabberwocky to make everything right. She repeatedly insists that she doesn't slay and believes the whole ordeal is a dream from which she will soon wake, driving home the metaphorical theme of free will throughout the film.

And themes are big here.

In a deep conversation with the Mad Hatter, he asks her if he's bonkers and she replies that he is, but all great people are. It's a theatrical fist pump to all the crazy geniuses out there, and it was a nice—if not obvious—touch.

Also emphasized is female independence. From Alice confronting her sister with the fact she may not marry her suitor, to the queens leading their respective entourages into battle, this whole world is controlled by women.

I'm glad I got to spend time in Wonderland. This version is much less frightening than the one I created in my head as a child, and even the scariest of characters have comedic redemption.

Plus, watching Johnny Depp do a mean Futterwack is worth the price of admission.




~~~

Applause

Tonight I screened Applause, starring Paprika Steen and Michael Falch.

Thea (played by the brilliant Steen) is an alcoholic actress who has lost everything except for her career. Christian (Falch) is her kind ex-husband and the father of her two sons. He has moved on with a new, lovely woman, but still cares for Thea and wants to help her renew her relationship with their kids.

Like many troubled parents, Thea realizes that to be a good mother she must first win the fight with her demons. Although the demon here is the somewhat conventional 'alcohol' demon, her struggle metaphorically could represent anyone who has suffered from self-loathing or unresolved issues that prevent them from true happiness.

To get past this darkness and loneliness, Thea makes an honest effort to clean herself up and get to know her boys. By reaching out in a healthy way, her ex and his present girlfriend allow her visits and family time with all of them. She is grateful for this and puts down the bottle during the transition. But she can't quite ever leave her life behind—though she's not knocking back whiskey anymore, she still sits at the neighborhood bar with a mineral water. Alone. Though that life of addiction clearly makes her miserable, it is there she feels most comfortable.

Things can't be the way they used to be because everyone else has moved on. This is a devastating realization to Thea, who continues her awkward journey through motherhood for the duration of the film.

As we cringe at her missteps and sympathize with the more balanced characters in the film, it's not hard to imagine how desperate we're all made to feel when we arrive at such a place of heartache.

If we can't make peace with ourselves, what good are we to anyone else?

~~~

The Philosopher Kings

Today I screened the documentary The Philosopher Kings.

How many of us have ever felt invisible? And if so, how often?

The folks featured in this film represent one of the most invisible professions in our society—custodians. Sure, we all realize there's someone responsible for cleaning every office or establishment we visit, but they're usually around after we've all gone home and disappear before we return. Seldom do we know them by name.

The janitors here all have something in common: they work at colleges or universities. They also share something else: a mutual love for their work.

What many would consider to be menial, miserable labor, these folks feel is a somewhat pleasant, honest way to make a living. One female subject even goes so far as to say "I like cleaning."

That's not to say they don't have bad days or resent the fact that some feel they didn't have a choice in their selection of profession (yes, by the way, they did). But for the most part, these are happy, productive, successful professionals.

What's refreshing about the group shown here is that they are both male and female, and represent a wide variety of cultures. All are articulate, well-spoken individuals who seem to have overcome major obstacles in their life (one lost a parent as a child; another lost a limb in a car crash, etc.) and arrived at a place of peace in their current situation.

Coming from a blue collar family myself, I have a great respect for how hard manual labor can be. I've seen the physical and mental exhaustion after a difficult day, and realize the toll it takes on one's body and mind.

If only the veil were more obviously lifted so that everyone could see what life is like for custodians—and every other profession that entails physically serving others—I'm certain they would be held in higher regard and appreciated appropriately for what they do.

To purchase a DVD of The Philosopher Kings, click here.

Professor

On Saturday I screened the documentary Professor.

It's not often that a film makes you want to pack your bags and move to Iowa to sign up for a college course, but that's exactly the reaction I had to this one.

The professor who gives the film its title is Rabbi Jay Holstein, an educator for nearly four decades at the University of Iowa. He's not handsome, he speaks with an intonation that's insanely annoying, and most of what he's talking about is unpopular and/or provocative, yet it's hard to take your eyes off of him.

The first soliloquy the audience here gets to witness is one that consists primarily of Dr. Holstein complaining about the way the university remodeled a lecture hall. Really. He told them to "tear it down" and hates the fact that the configuration doesn't allow for him to catch every yawning face (so he can scold accordingly). He goes on and on ... and on about the hypocrisy of the setup and how he really has nothing much to say, but watching the eyes around the room, there isn't one student who can look away.

What is it about this guy?

Well, he's obnoxiously liberal and sarcastic in a non-forgiving way. But he's also undeniably sincere and self-deprecating. This combination of qualities balance out in the delivery of his rhythmic speaking. When tuning out "what" he was saying and just listening to his speech patterns, I was reminded of a great English teacher I had in high school that made me learn Vachel Lindsay poems by singing them. They meant nothing to me before I was prompted to do that, but now nearly 20 years later, I still hold onto a small book of his works—because I was moved by the rhythm of language. I have to believe that's part of what's making this man so magnetic.

Holstein would easily gel with a Seattle crowd, but he's undoubtedly "radical" by Iowa standards. He counsels a student about choosing Catholic priesthood, and doesn't hesitate to bring up the sexual scandals that have plagued the church for years along with his theories as to why they occur. He also frankly asks the kid whether or not he believes homosexuality is evil and by doing so solicits an honest, if not yet nervous, response.

Each scene we see where Holstein one-on-one with a student or a fellow adult is slightly more annoying and borderline intimidating than what we see in the classroom. There, he has enough space for his big ideas to be explored, but in the smaller settings he appears much more overwhelming.

I'd love to step into one of his lectures, brimming with brilliance and wit, to witness his energy live. It was so palpable on screen in this well-produced, organic-feeling film, I can only imagine what it must be like to experience in person.

~~~

Buried Prayers

Yesterday I screened the documentary Buried Prayers.

Everyone recognizes the name Auschwitz, but not many know of the Maidanek death camp near Lublin, Poland. It was smaller, but endured similar horrors.

This heart-wrenching, predictably difficult-to-watch documentary doesn't tell the entire history of this camp that murdered nearly 80,000 people, but spotlights survivors returning to claim items that their fellow prisoners buried in their last moments of desperation.

It really is remarkable how they must have pulled it off.

Maidenek was geographically the closest concentration camp to a major city, and its prisoners who weren't killed, "worked" mostly at sorting possessions taken from other prisoners at various camps. When those who were facing their death knew their time was approaching, they would cleverly bury their sentimental items (wedding rings, etc.) while pretending to work. The Nazis never figured it out.

The camp was liberated by the Soviets in 1944 and it wasn't until 2005 that a group of survivors went back for the first time, and allowed archaeologists to accompany them and search for those buried treasures.

The film shows them recovering just a few items (in reality there were nearly 50 artifacts found), but the excitement and emotion that accompanies each discovery is incredibly moving. Worse are the memories shared of their time at the camp (one story about a son being forced to hang his father almost made me get up and walk out, it was so horrific).

But the film itself, yes, it was effective. I'm glad to know that things meant to be left behind in memory of those prisoners finally saw the light of day and created yet another way to convey the inhumane reign of Nazi power.

I just wonder—how many more original stories of pain will our world have to hear before all of the genocides stop?

~~~

Mother

On Saturday night, I screened Mother, starring Kim Hye-Ja and Weon Bin.

There are very few limits to a mother's love.

When mentally disabled Do-jun (Bin) is accused and arrested for the murder of a beautiful young girl in their Korean village, his widowed, devoted mother (Hye-Ja) takes matters into her own hands to prove his innocence. The trouble is, no one truly knows what happened on that fateful night.

Do-jun hangs around primarily with Jin-tae (Jin Gu) who is a troublemaker that easily convinces Do-jun to follow suit. Just days before the brutal murder, both are punished for damaging a car and attacking a group of golfers following a hit-and-run accident. Do-jun's lack of intelligence puts him in an unreliable position to convey the truth. He also has a very violent response to folks who tease him about his condition.

After he is booked for the crime and the case is considered closed, his mother (who has limited means and runs an underground acupuncture business) retains a lawyer and searches for the truth. We're led through a series of possibilities based on what she learns from the deceased girl's friends, and begin to develop a sympathy for the situation.

Rooting for this mother to get to the bottom of what the police won't investigate, our natural instincts want her to be correct, not because we like her son so much, but because we sympathize with her pain of raising a special needs child. At the same time, our rational minds wonder if there is more to the story.

Turns out: there is. Much. More. To. The. Story.

And it goes on, and on, and on, until we almost don't care who killed the poor girl as long as we'll be released from the narrative purgatory at some point.

The film started strong with excellent acting by all of the main characters and a few shocking moments of violence (squeamish me could do without so much blood, though). Yet the sheer volume of information we're made to wade through for what some may interpret to be a simple resolution is not necessary.

Plus, the ending happened three times before the film was over. It would've helped to conclude it at the first opportunity, but instead we're forced to endure lengthy, excessive scenes that minimize the impact of the actual discovery.

A shame, considering the concept and acting were so solid.

~~~

The House of Branching Love

On Saturday, I screened The House of Branching Love.

The house in this film should be renamed "The House of Branching Jealousy and Revenge." It centers around the supposedly amicable divorce between Tuula (Elina Knihtilä) and Juhani (Hannu-Pekka Björkman), and follows each of them on their path to emotionally destroy the other.

Sounds heavy, huh? Not so much.

When determining house rules so the two can continue living together for a period of time, they decide that no "new" people should be staying at the home, but then both promptly break that rule much to each other's dismay. The slapstick elements of the film begin when a carelessly tossed cigar starts the yard on fire as the husband receives oral sex. I have to agree with my partner when he says these slapstick moments ruined the story for him. They were unnecessary and excessive.

But aside from that, we got to see a few beautiful people, namely Nina (Anna Easteden) and Marco (Ilkka Villi) have sex and show off their beautiful bodies. You see, both members of the married couple essentially hire folks to service them in view of their soon-to-be ex. And that (unsurprisingly) backfires.

As if that weren't enough, there is a mob subplot that is so incredibly far-fetched it makes the slapstick seem almost feasible.

A big disappointment, this film.

~~~

Complaints Choir

On Saturday, I screened the documentary Complaints Choir.

A Finnish couple (Tellervo Kalleinen and Oliver Kochta-Kalleinen) thought it would be interesting to direct energy that we typically use to complain for a greater purpose. Their idea was to create a chorus of folks airing their grievances, big and small, then hold performances under the name "Complaints Choir." They were right: it was interesting.

What makes the experiment so compelling is the vast difference between how communities and countries react to it. Us Americans, of course, have no trouble listing out things that bother us and shouting it at the top of our lungs. Heck—we're practically famous for our loud mouths. But when the 'tour' arrives in Singapore, the tunes take a different turn.

Recruiting for the choir was not too difficult. Though folks were hesitant to admit fault with their lives publicly, many still stepped forward to do so. Some even seemed to be creating a makeshift therapy session for themselves.

Like the Yankees, these folks had minor complaints (waiting in lines, inconsiderate people) and major complaints (government, family), and were willing to sing about them in equal measure. But when rehearsals were well underway and the local police caught wind of what was about to take place, they forbid the singers from performing under threat of arrest. It seems free speech is not a privilege Singaporeans are allowed to enjoy.

So now their complaints are merely immortalized on the official film site and in this documentary. And Singapore appears to be humorless and really, really oppressive. Their government clearly did nothing to dispute this portrayal.

The Complaints Choir has since expanded to over 20 countries so far (some that we would have assumed similar to Singapore in restrictions, but weren't), and the idea is catching on. The organizers offer how-to instructions about creating your own on the film site. This particular documentary only focuses on the Singapore and Chicago choirs, but the spirit of the movement is captured well.

And after you see it, you'll leave wanting to craft a song about your problems each time they arise.

~~~

Oil Rocks: City Above the Sea

On Saturday I screened the documentary Oil Rocks: City Above the Sea.

Traveling 6 hours from the nearest shore in the Caspian Sea and you'll find a fully-functioning separate society, built on the life of oil.

Commissioned by Stalin in the late 40s, over 2000 workers (some who came on board during its inception) work there today. And despite their generally sunny demeanor, I had to wonder: what if I lived and breathed and died for only one purpose for the rest of my adult life?

These folks wake early to get started with (usually) heavy, dangerous labor; break for meals (which are similar each day as evidenced by the glimpse we get of the "bread shop" that offers much of what it always has—bread, cheese, sausage); work some more, then retire to the dormitory, where many of them share rooms the size of ... well ... a college dormitory. It seems unfair to witness those folks living such a modest life when their very existences are dedicated to the success of one of the richest commodities on earth.

They all speak passionately about their duties and the past (there was a terrible accident in the 50s), but they don't focus a whole lot on their relationships. You get the sense they all get along well enough (they'd almost have to for survival), but we don't see clusters of folks getting together for card games or dozens of couples falling in love, either. They do point out that many of the dormitory floors are 'women only' so they can remain separate from the men.

The film is presented in traditional documentary style: talking head interviews spliced with footage, old and new. But I'll admit to getting a little bored when they remained with one subject or person for too long.

Though the residents clearly succeed in completing their tasks at hand, I wonder how well the younger generations will acclimate to regular society when they're forced to in about 20 years (when the oil well will ultimately dry up).

Perhaps another filmmaker will spotlight the transition when it happens.

~~~

1981

On Friday I screened 1981, starring Jean-Carl Boucher and Claudio Colangelo.

In 1981, the Trogi family moved to a nicer home, which meant they had to make do with less to afford it. Ricardo (Boucher) was 11 years old at the time and found the change to be very disruptive.

Ricardo's parents were good, blue-collar people who only wanted the best for their two children (Ricardo also had a younger sister). They worked long hours and extra jobs to earn enough to provide for their kids.

Ricardo was typical in the sense that he just wanted what every other boy was entitled to—a new gadget called a Walkman, and of course the latest clothes that would help him look good for his crush, one-time tutor Anne Tremblay.

He narrates the film for us in a humorous, honest way in the spirit of the Wonder Years. He shows us how he manipulates his parents into giving him things, obsesses over the relationship (or more accurately, a brushing of the arm) with Anne, and shares his desperate attempts to fit in with the cool kids by promising them issues of Playboy (which of course, he does not possess).

It's simultaneously endearing, self-deprecating, hopeful and sad.

When Ricardo realizes how hard his uneducated Dad (Colangelo) is working to make ends meet, the guilt sets in and we watch him "grow up" virtually overnight. There are wonderful scenes surrounding this transformation that also offer a perspective on why men who meet as boys often stay lifelong friends.

I enjoyed the journey into this loss of innocence, and even though some of the 80s fun had been played similarly in prior films (there's always a kid in KISS makeup, for example), it still worked well in this context. The extra touches added a welcome lightness to some of the darker themes playing out, and the family seemed like a true family.

Another pleasant element is that this story really was based on the writer/director's life. The real Ricardo Trogi showed sincerity and wit without giving in to self-indulgence, which made this one of the most appealing films I saw at the Cinequest Film Festival.

I do hope 1981 gains distribution so everyone can discover its charming appeal.

~~~

Live Action Short Film Nominees (Oscars® 2010)

Tonight I saw all five of the nominated films in the Live Action Short category. I'll present my reviews in the order they were shown.

KAVI (India)

In this dismal drama, a young boy desperately wants to go to school, but instead must work to repay his father's debt by constructing bricks. It's inspiring to see how resourceful and clever this slave child is, but the scenes of abuse his family endures make the film almost too unbearable to appreciate.

THE NEW TENANTS (Denmark)

A gay couple moves into an apartment that was recently vacated due to the murder of its former tenant. After a somewhat witty rant from one of the occupants, there is a knock at the door, which results in the first of four visitors that take this potentially smart concept past any point of pleasurable comedy. It feels more like a college film project than an Academy Award nominated piece. Plus, the ending is just silly.

MIRACLE FISH (Australia)

A child of modest means goes to school on his birthday only to be teased by his classmates for not getting the latest toys as gifts. He heads to the sick room where he dreams of having the school all to himself, free of the pain. When he wakes up, the hallways are dark and the classrooms are empty, so he begins to enjoy the new-found freedom. It's very satisfying to watch this victim of a bully dive into treats he normally wouldn't get and take pleasure in the solace that comes with eliminating negativity in life. But he soon finds out he's not alone and the film makes a sharp turn. Luckily, the impact of the message remains crystal clear.

THE DOOR (Ireland)

Only those familiar with the 1986 nuclear accident at Chernobyl will fully absorb the tragedy played out here, as a family struggles to navigate their loss and suffering. The first scene, though relevant in its purpose, is vastly out of pace with the rest of the film, which makes it hard to accept the muted rhythm that permeates each additional scene. Nonetheless, a powerful snapshot of a horrible historical event.

INSTEAD OF ABRACADABRA (Sweden)

The only blatant comedy of the bunch, this silly scenario centers around a 25-year-old man who wants nothing more than to be a professional magician. He tests tricks out on his parents (sometimes unsuccessfully), shocks children at birthday parties and develops a crush on a pretty blond, whom he tries to impress with his hobby. This is a fun, if not pointless, ride to take, and the ending is fabulous.

---

It's probably not hard to guess that my pick for this year's Live Action Short Film statue goes to Miracle Fish, but I wouldn't be terribly disappointed if The Door prevailed instead.

Shutter Island

This morning I saw Shutter Island, starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Ben Kingsley.

The year is 1954 and Federal Marshall Teddy Daniels (DiCaprio) is sent to investigate a disappearance at a mental hospital off the shores of Boston called Shutter Island. He is accompanied by his nonchalant partner Chuck (Mark Ruffalo) who strangely calls him "Boss" though they've only just met.

The backdrop of a messy storm sets the mood for their arrival, as the seasick Daniels accepts aspirin from hospital staff to combat his queasy feelings. Soon he's feeling up to interrogation and requests interviews with all personnel on duty the night of the missing patient's disappearance. He is met with resistance (and even sarcasm) from many as he asks basic questions to solve the mystery.

One of the most passive aggressive road blocks on his journey is Dr. Cawley (Kingsley), a powerful psychiatrist who seems to be hiding something.

When Teddy and Chuck can't get to the answers they're looking for, they decide to leave the island the following morning, but the violent weather stops them, so they continue exploring the institution on their own, against the wishes of the staff.

Throughout their search, Teddy is haunted by visions of his deceased wife Dolores (Michelle Williams) and reveals he has ties to the institution due to her murder. He also seems to be suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, having flashbacks from assisting in the liberation of Nazi-occupied Germany.

The entire film is Teddy's journey to find the truth in whatever context the film is referring to during that specific beat. It's at times all over the place and alternately solid and linear.

Scorsese creates a fantastic creepy mood from the opening credits and sustains that quiet unrest right up until the end. The images (especially of Nazi Germany) are sometimes horrific; other times just bloody (though I'll have to admit a scene full of squeaking rats takes the cake for most-likely-to-cause-nightmares).

The characters are all crafted well--each has something unique to hide, yet it's hard to know who to trust.

Leonardo DiCaprio, who is in nearly every frame of the film, plays every emotion with sincerity; from the angry and arrogant Federal Marshall to the fragile, grieving widow. The expression in his face carries us from scene to scene, guiding our reactions and filling us with whatever feelings he's meant to experience.

The ending provides a hot conversation topic for anyone who likes to challenge such resolution, and provides a satisfactory conclusion for those who prefer closure.

Really, Shutter Island is the very definition of a successful psychological thriller. It will keep you guessing hours after you leave the theater...that is, if you want to keep guessing.

Hell Is Other People

Tonight I screened Hell Is Other People, starring Richard Johnson.

Morty (Johnson) is sad. Not because of something specific that's necessarily happened to him, but more likely because of everything that hasn't. He hasn't found anyone to share his life with (though he does have a very 'present' ex who he obviously cares for), he doesn't have a career, and there isn't any proof of aspiration to do more than he's currently doing. Being broke induces a forced indifference.

Director Jarrod Whaley captures the absurdity of lonely living quite well. After all, what is time when you have nowhere to be?

Morty needs money so he claims a friend owes him for a recent 'favor', or he simply performs odd jobs to fill in the blanks (the oddest: acting as a makeshift shrink for a guy even more troubled than him). Nothing about his actions suggest things will get better, but for some reason, we don't hate him for that.

Chattanooga, Tenn. provides a perfect backdrop for the slow pace and discussions of the characters in this film. The mood feels Southern; polite with a natural tendency to get heated. All of the friends and acquaintances talk to and about one another just as we all do in real life. The women also appear to talk a lot more. Fair enough.

Morty is easily the link between all of these folks, though he's probably the least interesting, and that's what makes this comedy so tragic.

Social graces are a hot commodity in our world of new media. Though we never see Morty updating his Facebook page, we get the sense he'd be more comfortable doing that than striking up a conversation with a stranger. It's not that he wouldn't want the connection—he just doesn't know how to go about creating it (a scene where he asks his doctor's receptionist out is especially painful to watch).

Hell is a solid indie with especially good character development, but perhaps not enough "showing" vs. "telling." I do wish there had been more situations instead of scenes that linger just a tad too long, but I was engaged throughout, nonetheless.

Each step of the way, we're led to silently root for Morty's success, yet he continues to disappoint us. This happens with people in our real world, why shouldn't it happen in cinema?

Hell is Other People premieres at Cinequest 20 on February 27. Visit Cinequest.org for details.

~~~

The White Ribbon

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?

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.

The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus

Today I saw The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus, starring Heath Ledger and Lily Cole.

Christopher Plummer plays the Doctor, who runs a traveling show with his daughter Valentina (Cole) and a couple of male freaks. He's truly ancient and has made a deal with the devil in return for his immortality (meaning: the daughter goes to the darkness at age 16 unless he does something to reverse the arrangement).

Tony (Ledger) is a man who Valentina and her sidekicks save from a hanging noose (and yes, since this is the first scene we see Ledger in, in the last movie we'll ever see Ledger in, it's especially difficult to watch). He soon proves to be the most valuable member of the traveling show, earning them heaps of money and spicing things up (he joins it because it provides a good front for the people he's hiding from).

Though Ledger doesn't play the main character, his presence does wake the audience up every time he dances (sometimes literally) into the frame. Aside from the rescue scene where he first turns up, the first 45 minutes of this film had me yawning. Circuses have always creeped me out, and as a plot device I think a traveling show with built-in freaks is kind of a screenwriting cop-out.

But anyway, the rumors are true that once the characters enter the Imaginarium, the film does pick up, if only because we want desperately to jump through the screen and create our own version of paradise along with them. It's visually stunning, if you're the romantic, rolling green hills type.

The transition in the Imaginarium from Heath Ledger to Johnny Depp (the first of three actors to take over the part when Ledger died) is utterly flawless, and Depp having all those years in the Tim Burton School of Weirdness feels right at home in the role. He even looks like Heath. Not so flawless: Jude Law, who looks like Jude Law with bad eyeliner.

That leaves the final portion of the role to Colin Farrell, who really gets better and better every day. The man appears to be channeling Ledger here and his charisma and good looks only help seal the deal.

But aside from the cool visuals, the typically great performance from the late Ledger, and the competency of his understudies, Director Terry Gilliam has again led us into an incomplete world of his own making, which simply begs to be properly grounded.

Leap Year

Tonight I saw Leap Year, starring Amy Adams and Matthew Goode.

I'll start by saying, yes, I knew it would be terrible. But I needed a mindless girl movie tonight, and I suppose I deserved what I got.

Adams plays Anna, and the "A" stands for "Type-A." She stages apartments for a living in Boston and organizes the life of herself and her boyfriend for fun. Jeremy (Adam Scott) is an impressive cardiologist who is good to her, but has not yet popped the question, though they've been together for four years. When he travels to Dublin on business, Anna sees it as her opportunity to follow an Irish superstition and propose to him on February 29. All she needs to do is make it to Dublin and surprise him before then. She has one day...or maybe two days until the 29th. Ah, who cares? You know where this is going.

First, there's (scary, sudden) turbulence on her plane so they have to make an emergency landing in Cardiff. This is handled by the airline almost as nonchalantly as running out of gas with a AAA truck behind you on the highway.

Once Anna lands in Wales, she tries to convince the ticket agents to "re-open" the Dublin airport and when that (shockingly) doesn't work, she rents a boat. Somehow instead of ending up in Dublin, in the midst of the storm she finds herself on a tiny road in a remote Dingle village.

The locals nearly laugh her out of the pub she wanders into (tugging her Louis Vutton bag closely behind), but she has nowhere else to go, so she stays there for the night. What follows is the scene I was hoping wouldn't happen: the obligatory American Woman knocks out the town's power trying to plug in her Blackberry™.

But wait, it gets worse.

The pub owner just happens to be Declan (Goode), who is rough around the edges, but undeniably cute. He agrees (for a large sum) to drive her to Dublin the next day. Small talk turns into sexual tension (via "arguing") and then a herd of cows delay their trip. You heard me: a Herd of Cows. On an Irish country road. The only thing surprising about this scene was that it was cows, not sheep.

Anyway, because of some ridiculous chain of events caused by Anna's American princess impatience, they're soon car-less and back on the road. And they miss a train. And they have to stay in a charming Bed & Breakfast, pretending of course to be married because the old Irish folk wouldn't rent the room to a sinning couple.

I won't even bore you with the rest because you already know what happens. How it happens isn't even difficult to decode.

I'm just incredibly disappointed these delightful actors took the roles because the material was way beneath their talent. Perhaps they just wanted the free time in Ireland? I should hope that was the reason.

And I hope they never do it again.

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.

Crazy Heart

Today I saw Crazy Heart, starring Jeff Bridges and Maggie Gyllenhaal.

It was the topic of Cinebanter #85, which is available here.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Avatar

This morning I saw Avatar, starring Sam Worthington and Zoe Saldana.

It was the topic of Cinebanter #84, which is available here.

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.

(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.

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.

~~~

Brothers

Tonight I screened Brothers, starring Natalie Portman and Tobey Maguire.

It was the topic of Cinebanter #83, which is available here.

Fantastic Mr. Fox

Today I saw Wes Anderson's first animated feature Fantastic Mr. Fox.

Based Roald Dahl's classic book, this film centers around the Fox family—Mom, Dad, their son Asher, and a visiting cousin named Kristofferson. Mr. Fox has given up a life of crime stealing birds for a more respectable job as a newspaper columnist. He's moved the family from a modest hole to the inside of an above-ground tree. His son Ash competes with his seemingly perfect cousin for his parents' attention because he feels he can do no right.

Mr. Fox doesn't like the new farmers in town, so he decides to go behind his wife's back and perform one last "job" of stealing with the help of a friend.

The first part of the theft goes well, though his wife is suspicious. She finds a tag with the farmer's name on it still attached to the chicken Mr. Fox claimed to get at the supermarket, but he talks his way out of it.

The next attempt at stealing is not as successful and results in the farmers waging an all-out war against the fox family, endangering all of the animals that live beneath the surface. In the chaos of the fight, the farmers also capture Kristofferson and hold him hostage above ground, mistaking him for Ash.

This all happens in a very fast-paced, visually appealing way. The landscapes are beautiful and the animals are life-like, especially in the way the foxes move. The dialog is clever but not too cute and the delivery (by George Clooney, Meryl Streep and other well-known actors) is right on. It's refreshingly not exaggerated like many other kids' film characters.

Is it the best animated film of the decade? Well, no—but it's certainly a satisfying, entertaining, family friendly option amidst many lesser alternatives.

Wes Anderson deserves kudos for switching genres so seamlessly and his style translates well to animation. Perhaps he'd consider doing another?

~~~

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.

~~~

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.

~~~

Pirate Radio

On November 12, I saw Pirate Radio, starring Philip Seymour Hoffman and Bill Nighy.

It will be the topic of Cinebanter #82, so tune in November 30th for our review.

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.

~~~

An Education

Today I saw An Education, starring Carey Mulligan and Peter Sarsgaard.

It will be the topic of Cinebanter #81, so tune in November 16 for our review.

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.

~~~

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.

~~~