Sunday, March 18, 2012
The Films of Tim Burton Trailer Sunday (Part Two)
Sleepy Hollow
Planet of the Apes
Big Fish
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
Corpse Bride
Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street
Alice in Wonderland
Frankenweenie
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Blogorium Review: The Descendants
No matter how many times I see an Alexander Payne film, I find myself caught off guard by something in the story. It happened with Election, About Schmidt, Sideways, and again with The Descendants, the film Payne, co-writers Nat Faxon and Jim Rash adapted from Kaui Hart Hemmings novel. I expected some variety of comedy with serious undertones, both of which originating from flawed characters that can't quite connect, so in that respect The Descendants is consistent with Payne's other films. What surprised me was the humanity behind the laughs, and the complications in the narrative that undercut the misanthropy he normally imbues his characters with.
Matt King (George Clooney) is hardly someone you'd call a responsible father. He's far more interested in his law practice in Hawaii than in his family, and he leaves the task of raising daughters Alexandra (Shailene Woodley) and Scottie (Amara Miller) to his wife, thrill seeker Elizabeth King (Patricia Hastie). When Elizabeth is thrown from her water jet(?) during a race and ends up in a coma, Matt finds himself in charge of Scottie, middle school-aged and prone to acting out, without the slightest idea what he's supposed to do. Alexandra is in private school and probably drinking and acting out, so when Matt brings her home to take care of Scottie, the elder daughter brings along Sid (Nick Krause), an amiable stoner with a penchant for saying whatever is on his mind, regardless of its tactlessness. As Elizabeth's coma drifts into a permanent vegetative state, Matt accepts the provision in her will to unplug life support, and the foursome set out to prepare family and friends for the inevitable. But in the midst of this, Alexandra explains why she's so angry at her mother, and it's going to make Matt's preparations much more difficult...
That's the simple way to explain The Descendants. It also only covers the first twenty minutes of the film, because the revelation that Elizabeth was having an affair with realtor Brian Speer (Matthew Lillard) and planned on leaving Matt before her accident is the catalyst for much of what happens in the story. Matt becomes obsessed with meeting Speer, to confront him and let him know that Elizabeth is lying in a hospital, dying, if for nothing else than to see the look on his face. With Scottie, Alexandra, and Sid in tow, he follows Brian on a business trip from one island to another, where he discovers that Speer is also married. Brian's wife Julie (Judy Greer) is also unaware of her husbands philandering ways, and Matt has to decide whether he's willing to destroy another family as his is in the process of crumbling.
Brian also stands to benefit from Matt in a totally different way: King and his family are descendants of the last royalty of Hawaii, and they own 25,000 acres in Kauai. Their trust is going to be dissolved in seven years, so the family has been fielding offers to sell their inheritance to developers, and Matt is responsible for making the ultimate decision on if they sell it and to what interests. If he sells to the local developer his cousin Hugh (Beau Bridges) supports, then Brian is going to make a small fortune off of the deal.
The film raises the larger question about whether the family, descended from the union of Hawaiian and European / American bloodlines, really has any right to control land they have only the slightest connection to. They treat the native land as property, something they can use to camp on but a financial asset; they'd rather profit from it than lose it altogether, and the decision to sell it upsets families around Matt's home in Honolulu. Most of the cousins want to sell it because they've burned through their financial inheritance; only the penny pinching Matt saved everything, even from his family, which is one reason Elizabeth's father Scott Thurson (Robert Forster) blames him for the accident.
All of this is the backdrop for dealing with loss, with grief, betrayal, responsibility, and with being unsure that you can be the person expected of you by others. The Descendants is alternately very funny and deeply saddening, but avoids falling into the traps of trivializing the gravity of the King's predicament or reducing the comical nature of these seemingly unrelated, compounding coincidences in service of tear-jerking.
At the core of this balancing act is George Clooney, who plays Matt King as kind of a spaz. He's somebody who prefers business to interpersonal relations, who is convinced he can make up for all of this later, and who is totally lost when it falls apart. He's also driven purely by impulse: when Alexandra tells him about the affair, his first reaction is to run down the street to Kai and Mark Mitchell (Mary Birdsong and Rob Huebel)'s house to ask Elizabeth's friends if it's true. In spite of everything Matt needs to do, that he tells his daughters needs to be done, he is insistent on finding Brian Speer, to settling the score even though it means nothing. It's more important to him than forgiving his wife, a blank slate he can only project onto at this point.
Clooney is fantastic in a very un-Clooney role. The screen persona cultivated by Clooney and many of his collaborators is of a man who, delusional or otherwise, is wholly confident in his actions. As Matt King, Clooney is a man out of control, a vulnerable, petty man in way over his head with two daughters asserting themselves in very different ways. Speaking of which, Woodley and Miller are also excellent as Alexandra and Scottie, neither of whom are prepared for the situation they find themselves in. Nick Krause nearly steals the show as Sid, a character that seems at first only to be there for comic relief, but as Matt begins to (inexplicably) rely on his Zen approach to life, we learn more about why he and Alexandra are drawn to each other, and in keeping with the rest of the film, it's more complicated than it seems.
I say almost steals the film because Judy Greer, in a small amount of screen time, gives The Descendants a heart. Lillard's Brian Speer has a moment or to that keep him from just being "the other man" in the film, but Julie Speer shows decency to Matt and to Elizabeth, even though she has every right to be as bitter as the protagonist of the film. I'm used to seeing Alexander Payne films with emotionally fragile leads who struggle to coexist with their mutual baggage, but Greer as Julie is something different. She's an innocent who chooses not to lash out, but to do right, and accordingly shapes how Matt comes to terms with his life. It's a minor epiphany, not telegraphed to the audience immediately.
To be fair, when the one thing you expect to happen does happen, I was torn about whether Matt does it out of altruism or to be vindictive. It's not clear, and Payne wisely cuts away from the "big speech" moment and transitions back to the family drama, having wrapped up a more or less traditionally expected narrative thread. Like Sideways, The Descendants is to me a strange choice for the Academy Awards: it is by all means a fine film, but one that spends much of its time dwelling in the worst of human behavior. It's not as hopeless as, say, Melancholia, but The Descendants is concerned more with small, emotional moments than War Horse, Hugo, The Help, or The Artist. It's a decidedly low-key film with fine performances, the kind of movie I think is going to age well, and deserving of its Best Adapted Screenplay, so maybe it's okay it was overshadowed by the competition.
That's the simple way to explain The Descendants. It also only covers the first twenty minutes of the film, because the revelation that Elizabeth was having an affair with realtor Brian Speer (Matthew Lillard) and planned on leaving Matt before her accident is the catalyst for much of what happens in the story. Matt becomes obsessed with meeting Speer, to confront him and let him know that Elizabeth is lying in a hospital, dying, if for nothing else than to see the look on his face. With Scottie, Alexandra, and Sid in tow, he follows Brian on a business trip from one island to another, where he discovers that Speer is also married. Brian's wife Julie (Judy Greer) is also unaware of her husbands philandering ways, and Matt has to decide whether he's willing to destroy another family as his is in the process of crumbling.
Brian also stands to benefit from Matt in a totally different way: King and his family are descendants of the last royalty of Hawaii, and they own 25,000 acres in Kauai. Their trust is going to be dissolved in seven years, so the family has been fielding offers to sell their inheritance to developers, and Matt is responsible for making the ultimate decision on if they sell it and to what interests. If he sells to the local developer his cousin Hugh (Beau Bridges) supports, then Brian is going to make a small fortune off of the deal.
The film raises the larger question about whether the family, descended from the union of Hawaiian and European / American bloodlines, really has any right to control land they have only the slightest connection to. They treat the native land as property, something they can use to camp on but a financial asset; they'd rather profit from it than lose it altogether, and the decision to sell it upsets families around Matt's home in Honolulu. Most of the cousins want to sell it because they've burned through their financial inheritance; only the penny pinching Matt saved everything, even from his family, which is one reason Elizabeth's father Scott Thurson (Robert Forster) blames him for the accident.
All of this is the backdrop for dealing with loss, with grief, betrayal, responsibility, and with being unsure that you can be the person expected of you by others. The Descendants is alternately very funny and deeply saddening, but avoids falling into the traps of trivializing the gravity of the King's predicament or reducing the comical nature of these seemingly unrelated, compounding coincidences in service of tear-jerking.
At the core of this balancing act is George Clooney, who plays Matt King as kind of a spaz. He's somebody who prefers business to interpersonal relations, who is convinced he can make up for all of this later, and who is totally lost when it falls apart. He's also driven purely by impulse: when Alexandra tells him about the affair, his first reaction is to run down the street to Kai and Mark Mitchell (Mary Birdsong and Rob Huebel)'s house to ask Elizabeth's friends if it's true. In spite of everything Matt needs to do, that he tells his daughters needs to be done, he is insistent on finding Brian Speer, to settling the score even though it means nothing. It's more important to him than forgiving his wife, a blank slate he can only project onto at this point.
Clooney is fantastic in a very un-Clooney role. The screen persona cultivated by Clooney and many of his collaborators is of a man who, delusional or otherwise, is wholly confident in his actions. As Matt King, Clooney is a man out of control, a vulnerable, petty man in way over his head with two daughters asserting themselves in very different ways. Speaking of which, Woodley and Miller are also excellent as Alexandra and Scottie, neither of whom are prepared for the situation they find themselves in. Nick Krause nearly steals the show as Sid, a character that seems at first only to be there for comic relief, but as Matt begins to (inexplicably) rely on his Zen approach to life, we learn more about why he and Alexandra are drawn to each other, and in keeping with the rest of the film, it's more complicated than it seems.
I say almost steals the film because Judy Greer, in a small amount of screen time, gives The Descendants a heart. Lillard's Brian Speer has a moment or to that keep him from just being "the other man" in the film, but Julie Speer shows decency to Matt and to Elizabeth, even though she has every right to be as bitter as the protagonist of the film. I'm used to seeing Alexander Payne films with emotionally fragile leads who struggle to coexist with their mutual baggage, but Greer as Julie is something different. She's an innocent who chooses not to lash out, but to do right, and accordingly shapes how Matt comes to terms with his life. It's a minor epiphany, not telegraphed to the audience immediately.
To be fair, when the one thing you expect to happen does happen, I was torn about whether Matt does it out of altruism or to be vindictive. It's not clear, and Payne wisely cuts away from the "big speech" moment and transitions back to the family drama, having wrapped up a more or less traditionally expected narrative thread. Like Sideways, The Descendants is to me a strange choice for the Academy Awards: it is by all means a fine film, but one that spends much of its time dwelling in the worst of human behavior. It's not as hopeless as, say, Melancholia, but The Descendants is concerned more with small, emotional moments than War Horse, Hugo, The Help, or The Artist. It's a decidedly low-key film with fine performances, the kind of movie I think is going to age well, and deserving of its Best Adapted Screenplay, so maybe it's okay it was overshadowed by the competition.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
A Very Prescient Video Daily Double!
Willkommen, meine lieber Educationeers! It is I, Cap'n Howdy, your international man of teachery! Today's Video Daily Double is a look back as we look forward. The magical world we know as the Internets is helping to literally shrink Earth to a more manageable size, so that we can more easily partake of ridiculous videos from the FUTURE (true fact: people who live so far to the west of the west coast that they become the FAR EAST live in the future every day!) without needing Time Travel Goggles outlawed for their propensity to cause eye-bleeding. Little did we know that the soothsayers of the FUTURE traveled even further into the PAST and have now implanted into the lexicon of "short educational films" a roadmap of the Internets before the Telegramaphone had finished activating Skynet and wiping out pre-computer technology.
Behold!
---
Our first film, Our Shrinking World, predicts the literally collapse of Earth into a smaller sphere of connectiveness, based solely on the dominance of American short educational film makers over their eventual Chinese overlords.
Our second film, Introduction to Foreign Trade, explains how the world will begin to shrink as we negotiate with our eventual overlords. Amazing!
Behold!
---
Our first film, Our Shrinking World, predicts the literally collapse of Earth into a smaller sphere of connectiveness, based solely on the dominance of American short educational film makers over their eventual Chinese overlords.
Our second film, Introduction to Foreign Trade, explains how the world will begin to shrink as we negotiate with our eventual overlords. Amazing!
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Retro Review: Wishmaster
Today's Retro Review is a special one for two reasons:
1. It was the first movie I watched with Professor Murder, and largely the reason we became friends shortly thereafter.
2. For better or for worse, it's the catalyst for Cap'n Howdy becoming the "trash savant" that you dear readers will assume is going to watch literally any shitty film that comes out. And you're right. Sometimes.
While it is true that I would rent nearly anything from Carbonated Video that looked interesting for years prior to the release of Wishmaster, young Cap'n Howdy had a slightly more discerning taste when it came to seeing something on the big screen. I stopped hanging out with a friend in high school because he tricked me into seeing Biodome and Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls on separate occasions (also, he stole my yearbook and burned my German textbook after borrowing it). To be fair, I also saw 12 Monkeys and Pulp Fiction with said person, so you can understand why I'd fall for two proto-Trappenings.
It is also true that I saw McHale's Navy earlier in 1997, and while that is barely a watchable film, the large group I went to see it with all went for the same reason: Bruce Campbell. We support our Bruce, even when he's a third banana in a Tom Arnold TV-make.
What distinguished Wishmaster from those films, and what began a regular trend afterward, was that the entire reasoning behind seeing a movie that in no way looked good was predicated on The Rocky Horror Picture Show experience: see the shitty movie, mock the shitty movie. It's a low-rent version of MST3k, another show I was (and am) a huge fan of, and one that continued for years and years.
(For the record, we have certain rules in place when we do this: we always sit close to the screen, usually three rows back, so we'll never be louder than the movie. We also try to keep ourselves separated from the poor souls who wanted to see something like Lost in Space or Ghosts of Mars so that we don't ruin your experience of a horrible piece of shit. We don't like to be interrupted during movies we like, so we limit our interaction with said schlock to our own sphere).
At the time, I knew of Professor Murder* from high school drama productions but didn't actually know the guy. We were actually kind of at odds - the musical he was starring in was preventing our smaller production from being able to rehearse, and we'd received word that he thought our Literary Revue was "stupid." When he leapfrogged from Drama 1 to Drama 3 between the 96-97 and 97-98 school year, we found ourselves in the same class, and didn't really know how to navigate that.
The solution came when we both signed up for a series of classes on Shakespearean acting from Burning Coal Theatre, who was putting on a production of... Love's Labours Lost, I think with a student who graduated two years before me. As we were the only students from our school (and we were riding with our drama teacher every day), we got to know each other, our senses of humor, and the many ridiculous interests we had in common.
One day, after getting back early and having time to kill before our rides got there, we decided to walk from high school to the nearby Imperial Theatre (now The Galaxy) to see a movie. And why not see Wishmaster? It was produced by Wes Craven (A Nightmare on Elm Street), written by Peter Atkins (Hellbound: Hellraiser II), directed by Robert Kurtzman (the "K" in KNB Effects), and featured cameos by many of the "big names" in horror, and was about an evil Genie. How bad could it be? Very, we hoped.
And bad it is - I remember we had a nearly constant running commentary about the logic gaffes, bad acting, and the scenery chewing Djinn, played Andrew Divoff. Whether in his Djinn "monster" makeup or his "human" form of Nathaniel Demerest, Divoff was a hoot as the deliciously EEEEEEVVIIIILLLL villain that tricked people into making wishes so he could punish them ironically. There's the girl who wants to be beautiful forever (he turns her into a mannequin), the guy who wants to escape (he gets put into a tank full of water), and the guy who wants to see him "walk through him" (he turns him into glass or something).
The last two are interesting because they were played by Tony Todd (Candyman) and Kane Hodder (Jason Vorhees), who appeared alongside Robert Englund (Freddy Krueger) and the voice of Angus Scrimm (The Tall Man) in Wishmaster. Also appearing: Reggie Bannister (Phantasm), Ted Raimi (Army of Darkness), Joe Pilato (Day of the Dead), Danny Hicks (Evil Dead 2), and uhhh... Verne Troyer (Pinocchio's Revenge)! I'd also like to point out something I just discovered, which is that Andrew Divoff was not only the Djinn in Wishmaster, but also Mikhail, the one-eyed Russian from Lost. I did not know that.
It's a loaded cast (and crew) for a movie that amounts to surprisingly little - it's a slasher movie structure but with a supernatural genie that can make anything happen as long as someone wishes for it. He needs to collect souls or something to become real or take over the world... honestly I don't remember. It's bad of the Cap'n to not go check but let's be honest, there's only one scene that sticks out for me, and it involves Kane Hodder as a security guard who won't let the Djinn get by. The genie says "ask me for something", and Hodder replies "I want you to leave."
The Djinn, forced to walk away, begins saying "no, no, I have to get inside," setting up the ironic kill. It's hilarious. In fact, here it is (the encounter begins at the 2:26 mark, but you might want consider watching the scene in the police station too, which is also silly).
After Wishmaster, the Professor and I were on the same page, and we banded together with the rest of the gang to see terrible movies and give them what-for, even if only for our personal enjoyment. It also meant we intentionally sought out movies that were worse than Wishmaster and accordingly earned us a reputation of being willing to see every terrible movie that someone released (in theatres or on VHS / DVD). I cannot say that we didn't earn the rep, but I've been living that down ever since. The Professor? Well, he doesn't really care. He's the reason I saw Satan's Little Helper, Monsturd, and Dinocroc vs Supergator. Then again, I'm the reason he saw ThanksKilling, so I'd say we're even.
And Wishmaster? Well, there are three more sequels, only one of which I've seen part of. Wishmaster 2 somehow sends the Djinn to prison, so that Divoff can spend most of the movie without his makeup and grant wishes like "I wish my lawyer would go fuck himself," which of course literally happens as the lawyer is trying to get the guy released. Divoff couldn't be bothered to play the Djinn again in parts 3 and 4, and I guess I couldn't be bothered to watch them. Someday... they're probably good Cranpire Movie candidates.
* I don't use his actual name because of the sensitive work the Professor does, but most people familiar with the Cap'n know exactly who I'm talking about. I also can't claim any credit for the nickname - he earned it while away at school.
1. It was the first movie I watched with Professor Murder, and largely the reason we became friends shortly thereafter.
2. For better or for worse, it's the catalyst for Cap'n Howdy becoming the "trash savant" that you dear readers will assume is going to watch literally any shitty film that comes out. And you're right. Sometimes.
While it is true that I would rent nearly anything from Carbonated Video that looked interesting for years prior to the release of Wishmaster, young Cap'n Howdy had a slightly more discerning taste when it came to seeing something on the big screen. I stopped hanging out with a friend in high school because he tricked me into seeing Biodome and Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls on separate occasions (also, he stole my yearbook and burned my German textbook after borrowing it). To be fair, I also saw 12 Monkeys and Pulp Fiction with said person, so you can understand why I'd fall for two proto-Trappenings.
It is also true that I saw McHale's Navy earlier in 1997, and while that is barely a watchable film, the large group I went to see it with all went for the same reason: Bruce Campbell. We support our Bruce, even when he's a third banana in a Tom Arnold TV-make.
What distinguished Wishmaster from those films, and what began a regular trend afterward, was that the entire reasoning behind seeing a movie that in no way looked good was predicated on The Rocky Horror Picture Show experience: see the shitty movie, mock the shitty movie. It's a low-rent version of MST3k, another show I was (and am) a huge fan of, and one that continued for years and years.
(For the record, we have certain rules in place when we do this: we always sit close to the screen, usually three rows back, so we'll never be louder than the movie. We also try to keep ourselves separated from the poor souls who wanted to see something like Lost in Space or Ghosts of Mars so that we don't ruin your experience of a horrible piece of shit. We don't like to be interrupted during movies we like, so we limit our interaction with said schlock to our own sphere).
At the time, I knew of Professor Murder* from high school drama productions but didn't actually know the guy. We were actually kind of at odds - the musical he was starring in was preventing our smaller production from being able to rehearse, and we'd received word that he thought our Literary Revue was "stupid." When he leapfrogged from Drama 1 to Drama 3 between the 96-97 and 97-98 school year, we found ourselves in the same class, and didn't really know how to navigate that.
The solution came when we both signed up for a series of classes on Shakespearean acting from Burning Coal Theatre, who was putting on a production of... Love's Labours Lost, I think with a student who graduated two years before me. As we were the only students from our school (and we were riding with our drama teacher every day), we got to know each other, our senses of humor, and the many ridiculous interests we had in common.
And bad it is - I remember we had a nearly constant running commentary about the logic gaffes, bad acting, and the scenery chewing Djinn, played Andrew Divoff. Whether in his Djinn "monster" makeup or his "human" form of Nathaniel Demerest, Divoff was a hoot as the deliciously EEEEEEVVIIIILLLL villain that tricked people into making wishes so he could punish them ironically. There's the girl who wants to be beautiful forever (he turns her into a mannequin), the guy who wants to escape (he gets put into a tank full of water), and the guy who wants to see him "walk through him" (he turns him into glass or something).
The last two are interesting because they were played by Tony Todd (Candyman) and Kane Hodder (Jason Vorhees), who appeared alongside Robert Englund (Freddy Krueger) and the voice of Angus Scrimm (The Tall Man) in Wishmaster. Also appearing: Reggie Bannister (Phantasm), Ted Raimi (Army of Darkness), Joe Pilato (Day of the Dead), Danny Hicks (Evil Dead 2), and uhhh... Verne Troyer (Pinocchio's Revenge)! I'd also like to point out something I just discovered, which is that Andrew Divoff was not only the Djinn in Wishmaster, but also Mikhail, the one-eyed Russian from Lost. I did not know that.
It's a loaded cast (and crew) for a movie that amounts to surprisingly little - it's a slasher movie structure but with a supernatural genie that can make anything happen as long as someone wishes for it. He needs to collect souls or something to become real or take over the world... honestly I don't remember. It's bad of the Cap'n to not go check but let's be honest, there's only one scene that sticks out for me, and it involves Kane Hodder as a security guard who won't let the Djinn get by. The genie says "ask me for something", and Hodder replies "I want you to leave."
The Djinn, forced to walk away, begins saying "no, no, I have to get inside," setting up the ironic kill. It's hilarious. In fact, here it is (the encounter begins at the 2:26 mark, but you might want consider watching the scene in the police station too, which is also silly).
After Wishmaster, the Professor and I were on the same page, and we banded together with the rest of the gang to see terrible movies and give them what-for, even if only for our personal enjoyment. It also meant we intentionally sought out movies that were worse than Wishmaster and accordingly earned us a reputation of being willing to see every terrible movie that someone released (in theatres or on VHS / DVD). I cannot say that we didn't earn the rep, but I've been living that down ever since. The Professor? Well, he doesn't really care. He's the reason I saw Satan's Little Helper, Monsturd, and Dinocroc vs Supergator. Then again, I'm the reason he saw ThanksKilling, so I'd say we're even.
And Wishmaster? Well, there are three more sequels, only one of which I've seen part of. Wishmaster 2 somehow sends the Djinn to prison, so that Divoff can spend most of the movie without his makeup and grant wishes like "I wish my lawyer would go fuck himself," which of course literally happens as the lawyer is trying to get the guy released. Divoff couldn't be bothered to play the Djinn again in parts 3 and 4, and I guess I couldn't be bothered to watch them. Someday... they're probably good Cranpire Movie candidates.
* I don't use his actual name because of the sensitive work the Professor does, but most people familiar with the Cap'n know exactly who I'm talking about. I also can't claim any credit for the nickname - he earned it while away at school.
Monday, March 12, 2012
The Return of Cranpire Movies: Underworld - Awakening
(If you don't think there are SPOILERS in this review, by all means read on and try to be surprised when there are.)
I don't actually know if Cranpire ever watched any of the Underworld movies. I know Professor Murder did, and that he liked the first one enough to insist that I at least watch the scene where a vampire with silver whips fights a werewolf (sorry, Lycan). The way he described it was more entertaining than the actual scene (for the record, that Korn song isn't actually playing during the movie but you work with what you can find), but I found the first Underworld film to be agreeably stupid.
The only really distinguishing factor between the Blade and Underworld series is in my opinion the fact that Kate Beckinsale is in skintight leather instead of Wesley Snipes in slightly less skintight leather. It's certainly what 99.9999% of Underworld fans talk about on the internet and why there are now more Underworld movies than Blade movies (and you thought it was because of the tax evasion...) despite the fact that Blade Trinity is arguably just a collection of the worst series of decisions ever committed to film.
Since the second one was coming out soon, I did what you would expect the Cap'n would do - waited for it to come out on DVD and then rent it from the used book store I worked at. Underworld Evolution was also stupid, but more bombastic and with less story. More importantly, it didn't have the "this is a very serious story we're telling, thank you" that made the first film so hilarious. Underworld: Evolution did have the benefit of having Bill Nighy come back (in flashbacks? I don't remember) plus returning Michael Sheen, and then on top of the Derek Jacobi (I, Claudius) as an ancestor of Michael's. The story gets more complicated, yadda yadda, super vampire bats or something.
I did not see Underworld: Rise of the Lycans, a prequel that brought back Sheen and Nighy and added Rhona Mitra (The Descent) when Kate Beckinsale decided that skintight leather was too much of a bother. I have no idea what it was about, although if I had to guess I'd say it centered around the feud between vampires and Lycans in the middle ages because they seem to be holding swords on the cover.
This brings us to Underworld: Awakening, which is the fourth film in the series (and is in 3-D!!!). Kate Beckinsale, who clearly had so much fun making Whiteout and Everybody's Fine that she decided it was time to be miserable in skintight leather again, returns as Selene. She and Michael are on the run (again), but this time because between Underworld: Evolution and Underworld: Awakening, the humans noticed that people in skintight leather outfits were running around cities, shooting at each other, and that when some of them died they exploded. One of the people who seems to be organizing this is Dr. Jacob Lane (Stephen Rea), who joins the inexplicably quality supporting cast for movies this silly.
Somebody brielfy plays Michael, but it sure didn't look like Scott Speedman and the character isn't listed in the credits or IMDB. In fact, he isn't mentioned at all anywhere except IN the film. He's killed and then Selene is frozen for twelve years until she's rescued by "Subject Two" (India Eisley), a twelve-year-old girl who has the same powers that Michael does. Hrm...
I know what you were thinking, but she's not a twelve-year-old female clone of Michael: she's their DAUGHTER!!!! Selene was almost as surprised as you were, because to her twelve years didn't pass. It was like she went to sleep underwater across from a guy who kinda looked like Scott Speedman but not really and then woke up the next day with a preteen vamp-can. In fact, Selene says something very much like that later in the film, in case we were too confused by the plot to remember that.
Unfortunately for Underworld: Awakening, its plot isn't nearly as convoluted as the first two films (and, what the hell, let's assume the third one too), so it's actually not that hard to keep up. See, Dr. Lane works for Antigen, a company trying to cure the "disease" of vampirism and lycanthropy (I guess separately, they don't address this until THE TWIST!), and the hybrid-daughter is the key to cracking the code. Since she escaped, they let Selene escape to track them, and send some Lycans after them. Selene, in the meantime, finds a hidden coven of vampires led by Thomas (Charles Dance), who is hiding to keep his people alive. His idiot son, David (Theo James), wants to fight the Lycans and they all get their asses kicked when a super-Lycan that's immune to silver shows up (in normal form he looks like Coldplay's Chris Martin).
Anyway they all go back to Antigen and Selene gets Detective Sebastian (Michael Ealy) to help her break in, just in time for THE TWIST! See, Jacob and the rest of the Antigen team are Lycans, and they used the whole "exposure to humans" angle as a way to get vampires on the run while they researched a way be immune to silver. That's it! That's the extent of this movie - the master plan of the Lycans is to be immune to silver and kill the rest of the vampires while still being closely monitored by humans. Well, that last part clearly isn't important because they'd be invincible, right?
But if that's the case then how did Selene kill the Coldplay Lycan by putting a silver grenade in his stomach? And her daughter just clawed Stephen Rea's face off, so that works too.
Then again, I don't watch an Underworld movie for the story. I watch it because the deadly serious tone coupled with the absurd action scenes and gaping plot holes are a potent combination, the end result being incredulous laughter. Underworld: Awakening is not a good movie, not by any standard. That's fine, because I wasn't expecting it to be a good movie. I was expecting something stupid and I got it, and I chuckled for most of the film. Adding children used to be the touch of death for television shows, and sure enough it's a sign of desperation in Awakening, designed to cover up the fact that Scott Speedman / Michael don't factor into the story much (oh, did I mention he isn't actually dead and that Selene unfreezes him so he can escape?). The daughter fills that role and is half-hardheartedly designed to give Selene some depth, but it largely fails.
Underworld: Awakening has some fun, if imbecilic, action sequences, although I can't imagine they would be necessary in the third dimension. The color palette is (unsurprisingly) dark blues, blacks, and greys. The dialogue is stilted and designed to get us to the next fight scene, where at least the gore is pretty good. To be fair, it's probably more watchable - if not as staggeringly dumb - than Blade Trinity, and it's definitely better than the fourth Resident Evil film.
I know, I know; when I'm comparing Underworld: Awakening to Resident Evil: Afterlife and Blade Trinity, most of you are politely nodding your head and slowly backing away towards the door. That's fine, but this is a Cranpire Movie, and compared to most of the Syfy Channel Originals he prefers, Underworld: Awakening is a minor masterpiece.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
The Films of Tim Burton Trailer Sunday (Part One)
Pee-Wee's Big Adventure
Beetlejuice
Batman
Edward Scissorhands
Batman Returns
The Nightmare Before Christmas (technically a Henry Selick / Tim Burton joint)
Ed Wood
Mars Attacks
Thursday, March 8, 2012
News and Notes: Breather Edition
Yeesh! I feel like I've been doing nothing but putting up reviews for the last few weeks. Yes, there are the obligatory Video Daily Doubles and Trailer Sundays, but between those have been a nonstop run of reviews and not much else. I'm not even done with the list of movies I've seen but haven't done write ups for (The Descendants, Young Adult, Captain America: The First Avenger, Saw IV, V, and VI), and now I'm strongly considering diving into the first season of Game of Thrones.
Well, I watched the first episode last night, and based on how it ends, you have plenty of incentive to watch the second one. I've also been keeping up with season three of Eastbound and Down, which manages to up the ante on the horrible things that Kenny Powers is able to endure and inflict on others. It seems like either would be a fine candidate to return to TV Talk with. I must confess that I am not up to date with The Walking Dead or Breaking Bad, and if I'm going to invest another nine hours on Game of Thrones, it could be a little while before I get there.
Now that we're nearly two weeks removed from The 84th Annual Academy Awards, allow me to share a few things I found amusing:
- I didn't really like the "test audience" segment as it pertained to the content, but it was nice to see the Christopher Guest Players (sans Parker Posey) together again. I hope this entices them into making another of their mockumentaries.
- The fact that the cast of Bridesmaids had a drinking game involving Martin Scorsese's name made me smile. That no one ever explained or confirmed said drinking game makes me smile all the more.
- The Cirque de Soleil performance that people, at best, can describe as "impressive" is still tenuously (at best) related to movies after the North By Northwest opening. It is, however, as ridiculous as the "interpretive dance to scores from movies like Saving Private Ryan" from the 2000 Academy Awards telecast, so there's that.
- Did I miss it, or was there only one pointless montage this year? To be fair, I had some apple pie early in the program, so I didn't even catch all of that montage, but if there was another one I've forgotten it.
- Chris Rock looked younger. Like, a LOT younger. Also, he called out celebrities that do voice-over work in animation and was funnier than Billy Crystal while he did it. It didn't hurt than most (if not all) of the stars in attendance have done animation voice-over, including Martin Scorsese* (drink now).
- Not to be outdone by George Lucas, James Cameron made sure everybody watching the Oscars that didn't DVR it would know that Titanic will be in 3-D very soon. I look forward to not watching the film for the first time again, but this time in fake 3-D.
This is maybe something that only I chuckled at, but Criterion made it so that Belle de Jour and Godzilla will sit side-by-side in Spine Numbers from here on out. Also, they are upgrading The Last Temptation of Christ on Blu-Ray in time for Easter. Being John Malkovich, The War Room, Harold and Maude, and Shallow Grave are soon to follow. Now we just need C.H.U.D.
Speaking of which, why is nobody trying to remake C.H.U.D.?
Finally: A List of Fifteen Minute Movie movies I Watched on VHS but Never Got Around to Writing About:
Midnight Run
Kelly's Heroes
Wayne's World
Best in Show
The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
* Shark Tale. You're welcome.
Well, I watched the first episode last night, and based on how it ends, you have plenty of incentive to watch the second one. I've also been keeping up with season three of Eastbound and Down, which manages to up the ante on the horrible things that Kenny Powers is able to endure and inflict on others. It seems like either would be a fine candidate to return to TV Talk with. I must confess that I am not up to date with The Walking Dead or Breaking Bad, and if I'm going to invest another nine hours on Game of Thrones, it could be a little while before I get there.
Now that we're nearly two weeks removed from The 84th Annual Academy Awards, allow me to share a few things I found amusing:
- I didn't really like the "test audience" segment as it pertained to the content, but it was nice to see the Christopher Guest Players (sans Parker Posey) together again. I hope this entices them into making another of their mockumentaries.
- The fact that the cast of Bridesmaids had a drinking game involving Martin Scorsese's name made me smile. That no one ever explained or confirmed said drinking game makes me smile all the more.
- The Cirque de Soleil performance that people, at best, can describe as "impressive" is still tenuously (at best) related to movies after the North By Northwest opening. It is, however, as ridiculous as the "interpretive dance to scores from movies like Saving Private Ryan" from the 2000 Academy Awards telecast, so there's that.
- Did I miss it, or was there only one pointless montage this year? To be fair, I had some apple pie early in the program, so I didn't even catch all of that montage, but if there was another one I've forgotten it.
- Chris Rock looked younger. Like, a LOT younger. Also, he called out celebrities that do voice-over work in animation and was funnier than Billy Crystal while he did it. It didn't hurt than most (if not all) of the stars in attendance have done animation voice-over, including Martin Scorsese* (drink now).
- Not to be outdone by George Lucas, James Cameron made sure everybody watching the Oscars that didn't DVR it would know that Titanic will be in 3-D very soon. I look forward to not watching the film for the first time again, but this time in fake 3-D.
This is maybe something that only I chuckled at, but Criterion made it so that Belle de Jour and Godzilla will sit side-by-side in Spine Numbers from here on out. Also, they are upgrading The Last Temptation of Christ on Blu-Ray in time for Easter. Being John Malkovich, The War Room, Harold and Maude, and Shallow Grave are soon to follow. Now we just need C.H.U.D.
Speaking of which, why is nobody trying to remake C.H.U.D.?
Finally: A List of Fifteen Minute Movie movies I Watched on VHS but Never Got Around to Writing About:
Midnight Run
Kelly's Heroes
Wayne's World
Best in Show
The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
* Shark Tale. You're welcome.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
A Super Wednesday Video Daily Double!
Greetings, Citizen Educationeers! Cap'n Howdy is here with another civics minded Video Daily Double. As we all know, yesterday was Super Tuesday, the most important of all primary election dates because... well... it is. Many states made their voices heard, and soon our great nation will be closer to knowing who will be bickering all summer and have some idea the types of character assassination contrasts between candidates we'll be privy to this fall. With that in mind, let's take a look at a special film designed to explain the voting process, something you'll be old enough to do one day. If they don't change election laws before that point...
Do your duty! But please keep it in the voting booth...
---
Our film for today is called Behind the Freedom Curtain which, despite its title, has nothing to do with the opposite of the evil "Iron" Curtain, the oppressive state founded by Tony Stark.
Do your duty! But please keep it in the voting booth...
---
Our film for today is called Behind the Freedom Curtain which, despite its title, has nothing to do with the opposite of the evil "Iron" Curtain, the oppressive state founded by Tony Stark.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Retro Review: Little Nicky
Little Nicky is the only Adam Sandler film I've ever seen. While it's true that I have seen Funny People and Punch-drunk Love (and, to a lesser degree, Airheads and Coneheads, part of the unfulfilled "Adam Sandler in Movies with the Word 'Head' Trilogy"), Little Nicky is the only Sandler vehicle that Cap'n ever sat through. I know, it's strange: somehow I missed Happy Gilmore, Billy Madison, The Waterboy, Big Daddy, Mr. Deeds, Eight Crazy Nights, Anger Management, 50 First Dates, The Longest Yard, I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry, You Don't Mess with the Zohan, or Grown Ups.
Honestly, I was a little surprised that Happy Madison had anything to do with Judd Apatow's Funny People: Sandler's production company is almost always associated with movies that nobody I know ever sees - The Zookeeper, Bucky Larson: Born to be a Star, Dickie Roberts: Former Child Star, Grandma's Boy, and The Hot Chick*. Happy Madison also released Jack & Jill, a movie that recently nominated for twelve Golden Raspberry Awards, which is nearly a record and is odd, because the film is only eligible in ten categories.
Jack & Jill is actually the reason I thought of Little Nicky, not because I'm going to watch the former (which, if this is in any way true, might not be a movie but instead a scam) , but it reminded me that I HAVE actually seen an "Adam Sandler Joint" and I kind of liked it.
Little Nicky is, by no means, a good movie. I can remember so little of it after nearly twelve years that I'm surprised recalled the film at all. Basically it has something to do with Lucifer (Rodney Dangerfield), Satan (Harvey Keitel), and Satan's three kids: Cassius (Tiny Lister, Jr.), Adrian (Rhys Ifans), and Nicky (Sandler). Nicky has a speech impediment and the other brothers like to pick on him, but Satan wants him to take over Hell, or something. Then he decides not to, so Adrian and Cassius freeze the entrance to Hell and go to Earth to take over, and Nicky has to save him. That, and something about putting boobs on Kevin Nealon's head.
There's a talking dog and Patricia Arquette and some flask that collects souls, but mostly what I remember is that Nicky is actually half-demon, half-angel because his mother is Reese Witherspoon (Reese Witherspoon), erm, Holly. She gives him some ultimate weapon of goodness or something, which turns out to be Ozzy Osbourne (you see what they did there? It gets better, because Adrian turns into a bat. I wonder what happens?).
Little Nicky has lots of shenanigans and jokes about evil, but mostly lots of advertisements for Popeye's Chicken. Seriously. At one point, a demon tries a bucket and says "Popeye's Chicken is the shiznit!" Actually, see it for yourself:
I had no idea that this was a trend in Happy Madison films - arbitrary and shameless product placement, but Popeye's Chicken is hard to miss in Little Nicky. As I haven't seen the film since I watched it for free at the theatre I used to work for, I can't remember why I liked it. Describing it in this review, I'm not sure I did like it, but I do know I spent the better part of the fall of 2000 doing a Little Nicky impersonation for no good reason. It was funny to me, I guess (the impersonation, not the movie).
Maybe Little Nicky does suck, and I thought that it sucked so much that it stopped sucking and became awesome. It's the sort of thing that hipsters do all the time now: ironically appreciating everything bad. I don't think I was being ironic though: considering some of the shit I'd been watching that year (The In Crowd, Loser, Bless the Child, Blair Witch 2, Hollow Man), it could be that Little Nicky was a breath of fresh air. That the film was vaguely watchable compared to the likes of Lost Souls is enough to push it into "I liked it" territory.
Would I still like it? Um... well... let's all say it's one of life's unanswered questions. Because that's not going to happen. Happy Madison and I have reached a cease-fire: I don't watch their shitty movies, and accordingly don't report to you how horrible they are. That's the job of literally every other masochistic reviewer out there. I'm plenty busy watching Saw IV, V, and VI in one weekend, but that is another story...
* Strange Wilderness is, I have been reminded by IMDB, a Happy Madison film, but is a Steve Zahn vehicle and does not, to my recollection, feature Adam Sandler in any capacity. And I never finished Joe Dirt.
Jack & Jill is actually the reason I thought of Little Nicky, not because I'm going to watch the former (which, if this is in any way true, might not be a movie but instead a scam) , but it reminded me that I HAVE actually seen an "Adam Sandler Joint" and I kind of liked it.
Little Nicky is, by no means, a good movie. I can remember so little of it after nearly twelve years that I'm surprised recalled the film at all. Basically it has something to do with Lucifer (Rodney Dangerfield), Satan (Harvey Keitel), and Satan's three kids: Cassius (Tiny Lister, Jr.), Adrian (Rhys Ifans), and Nicky (Sandler). Nicky has a speech impediment and the other brothers like to pick on him, but Satan wants him to take over Hell, or something. Then he decides not to, so Adrian and Cassius freeze the entrance to Hell and go to Earth to take over, and Nicky has to save him. That, and something about putting boobs on Kevin Nealon's head.
There's a talking dog and Patricia Arquette and some flask that collects souls, but mostly what I remember is that Nicky is actually half-demon, half-angel because his mother is Reese Witherspoon (Reese Witherspoon), erm, Holly. She gives him some ultimate weapon of goodness or something, which turns out to be Ozzy Osbourne (you see what they did there? It gets better, because Adrian turns into a bat. I wonder what happens?).
Little Nicky has lots of shenanigans and jokes about evil, but mostly lots of advertisements for Popeye's Chicken. Seriously. At one point, a demon tries a bucket and says "Popeye's Chicken is the shiznit!" Actually, see it for yourself:
I had no idea that this was a trend in Happy Madison films - arbitrary and shameless product placement, but Popeye's Chicken is hard to miss in Little Nicky. As I haven't seen the film since I watched it for free at the theatre I used to work for, I can't remember why I liked it. Describing it in this review, I'm not sure I did like it, but I do know I spent the better part of the fall of 2000 doing a Little Nicky impersonation for no good reason. It was funny to me, I guess (the impersonation, not the movie).
Maybe Little Nicky does suck, and I thought that it sucked so much that it stopped sucking and became awesome. It's the sort of thing that hipsters do all the time now: ironically appreciating everything bad. I don't think I was being ironic though: considering some of the shit I'd been watching that year (The In Crowd, Loser, Bless the Child, Blair Witch 2, Hollow Man), it could be that Little Nicky was a breath of fresh air. That the film was vaguely watchable compared to the likes of Lost Souls is enough to push it into "I liked it" territory.
Would I still like it? Um... well... let's all say it's one of life's unanswered questions. Because that's not going to happen. Happy Madison and I have reached a cease-fire: I don't watch their shitty movies, and accordingly don't report to you how horrible they are. That's the job of literally every other masochistic reviewer out there. I'm plenty busy watching Saw IV, V, and VI in one weekend, but that is another story...
* Strange Wilderness is, I have been reminded by IMDB, a Happy Madison film, but is a Steve Zahn vehicle and does not, to my recollection, feature Adam Sandler in any capacity. And I never finished Joe Dirt.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Blogorium Review: Moneyball
I'm a little perplexed by all of the attention Moneyball received during "Awards Season." It's not that the film isn't good (because it is) or entertaining (which it is as well), but the movie is inherently anticlimactic, and by necessity can't actually go anywhere at the end for any of the main characters. I get that the combination of Academy Award winners Steve Zallian (Schindler's List) and Aaron Sorkin (The Social Network) with Academy Award nominee Bennett Miller (Capote) is going to get the attention of Academy voters, and they all do fine work. The cast also does fine work, and the story - based on Michael Lewis' Moneyball: The Art of Winning an Unfair Game, itself based the true story of Oakland A's manager Billy Beane - is an intriguing one.
Beane (Brad Pitt) is facing the prospect of rebuilding the Atheltics after a crushing defeat that cost them a spot in the World Series, coupled with the loss of his three star players: Johnny Damon, Jason Giambi, and Jason Isringhausen to teams that can pay them more. With no budget to work with, Beane is trying to make desperation deals with the Cleveland Indians when he meets Peter Brand (Jonah Hill), a Yale economics graduate working for the organization. Brand has a different notion of how to build talent on a team, based on statistics and on base percentages, and Beane likes it. Almost immediately, they run into resistance - from the scouts, from manager Art Howe (Phillip Seymour Hoffman), and from sports media insiders and pundits. Despite the pressure to do otherwise, they pick up Jeremy Giambi (Nick Porrazzo), David Justice (Stephen Bishop), and Scott Hatteberg (Chris Pratt), all of whom have been given up on by other teams. But Howe refuses to play the lineup that Beane and Brand put together, and things don't go south quickly. Can the unlikely strategy turn around the Oakland A's and allow them to compete with teams who money to spend, or is Beane looking at his swan song as general manager of the team?
In fact, the story behind Moneyball the film is almost as interesting as the actual story of Billy Beane's experiment on Oakland: the film was, up until 2009, a project Steven Soderbergh planned to direct, starring Brad Pitt with Demitri Martin playing Beane's actual assistant, Paul DePodesta (Peter Brand is a composite character). Soderbergh also wanted David Justice and Scott Hatteberg to play themselves, but Sony put the film on hold and let Soderbergh go, replacing him with Miller and hiring Sorkin to rewrite Zallian's draft.
You don't necessarily need to know anything about the Oakland A's or Billy Beane to watch Moneyball, and I guess if you don't know anything about baseball at all - maybe the combination of Brad Pitt, Jonah Hill, and (to a smaller degree) Phillip Seymour Hoffman brought you in - then it might be surprise how it ends. That surprise, alas, doesn't seem to be one that people are really happy about. Moneyball is a somewhat atypical version of the "underdog" subgenre of sports pictures. A rag-tag group of misfits get together and try to do something different because what's in place doesn't work. They fail at first, but then against the expectations of everyone else, they begin an improbable journey to proving everybody wrong. You've seen it before, and Moneyball is basically that film, just based around the management side of baseball and less about the players.
Except that (I guess this is a SPOILER) the Oakland A's don't win. They do break the single season record of 20 consecutive wins, but lose in the first round of the postseason to the Minnesota Twins. Like their loss to the Yankees the year before, it's a hard pill to swallow for Beane, but it does get him an interview with the Boston Red Sox, the team that hired away Johnny Damon the year before. They want him to come on board, and he decides to stay with Oakland. Two years later, the Boston Red Sox, using Beane's example, broke their 86 year long championship drought. They did it with a combination of the payroll that Beane didn't have and the sabremetric system (see link above).
A few friends of mine have rightfully pointed out that it's just as rough for viewers as it is for the fictional Beane that not only does the precedent he put into practice not work for him, but the team that does use it successfully is the very team that took one of Oakland's star players. There's even a title card at the end of the film to tell us this, as Moneyball doesn't really know quite to to finish the story: Peter shows Billy footage that metaphorically describes what happened and then Beane drives through Oakland listening to a song his daughter Casey (Kerris Dorsey) recorded for him. Moneyball's ending isn't ambiguous in a way that makes much of a difference, because the stark black and white title cards break the bad news to anybody watching the film that thought "well, maybe next year!"
I don't actually like having to point out that Moneyball is a tease of a movie, one that is eternally heading in a direction it can't actually go, and one that the film itself has to grudgingly admit hasn't happened before the credits roll. Moneyball is a solid film with great dialogue, understated performances, and is compelling even when you know how things end. I like that Brad Pitt plays Billy Beane as kind of a dick, an aloof general manager who doesn't like traveling or associating with the players because he's going to need to trade them. He's not exactly a likeable character but you like him anyway, because he makes the best of a bad situation. He's also almost always eating something: I feel the need to point this out because I began to notice it halfway through the film and then couldn't stop paying attention to the fact that Pitt is constantly chewing on something during Moneyball.
Jonah Hill is also very good and I guess un-Jonah Hill-esque as "Peter Brand," a guy who spends the first half of the film in awe of Beane and the second half trying to keep him engaged with the team's success. While I thought he was good, I don't exactly understand the nomination of "Best Supporting Actor" as the only real difference between Moneyball Jonah Hill and every other Jonah Hill performance is that he isn't cracking sarcastic jokes. It's a little like his character from Cyrus - a movie I really didn't like - but without the manipulative streak in that film. Hill was as good as Phillip Seymour Hoffman, who plays Howe as a guy that doesn't get or approve of what Beane is doing but instead of being a jerk because he can, also makes the best of a bad situation. He thinks he's on the way out because Beane won't discuss renewing his contract, but instead of being vindictive, he plays the team that will help him get a job next year. Why Hill was nominated and Hoffman wasn't, I couldn't say. They're both as good as Pitt, who was also nominated for reasons I don't quite get.
Now this sounds like I'm knocking Jonah Hill or Brad Pitt, and I'm not. I liked Moneyball, and I liked everybody in Moneyball and will probably watch it again, but I didn't see why the film was Academy Award material. There are really good movies that don't need to be nominated for Academy Awards, or aren't nominated, I guess I should say, and I'd put Moneyball in that category. It wouldn't make my "Top" list from 2011, but it would be in that bracket with Bridesmaids and Attack the Block and Conan O'Brien Can't Stop. To be fair, that's where I'd put The Artist, too, so that shows how much I understand about Academy Awards politics. What I'm saying is that you should check out Moneyball, even if you aren't into baseball, but understand that like real life, sometimes things don't work out, or necessarily end.
After all, Billy Beane is still in Oakland and this season he's decided to sign Manny Ramirez to a minor league deal with the option to play for the A's. Manny Ramirez played for the Boston Red Sox when they won the World Series in 2004 (and again in 2007). You never know - there might be a Moneyball 2 someday...
In fact, the story behind Moneyball the film is almost as interesting as the actual story of Billy Beane's experiment on Oakland: the film was, up until 2009, a project Steven Soderbergh planned to direct, starring Brad Pitt with Demitri Martin playing Beane's actual assistant, Paul DePodesta (Peter Brand is a composite character). Soderbergh also wanted David Justice and Scott Hatteberg to play themselves, but Sony put the film on hold and let Soderbergh go, replacing him with Miller and hiring Sorkin to rewrite Zallian's draft.
You don't necessarily need to know anything about the Oakland A's or Billy Beane to watch Moneyball, and I guess if you don't know anything about baseball at all - maybe the combination of Brad Pitt, Jonah Hill, and (to a smaller degree) Phillip Seymour Hoffman brought you in - then it might be surprise how it ends. That surprise, alas, doesn't seem to be one that people are really happy about. Moneyball is a somewhat atypical version of the "underdog" subgenre of sports pictures. A rag-tag group of misfits get together and try to do something different because what's in place doesn't work. They fail at first, but then against the expectations of everyone else, they begin an improbable journey to proving everybody wrong. You've seen it before, and Moneyball is basically that film, just based around the management side of baseball and less about the players.
Except that (I guess this is a SPOILER) the Oakland A's don't win. They do break the single season record of 20 consecutive wins, but lose in the first round of the postseason to the Minnesota Twins. Like their loss to the Yankees the year before, it's a hard pill to swallow for Beane, but it does get him an interview with the Boston Red Sox, the team that hired away Johnny Damon the year before. They want him to come on board, and he decides to stay with Oakland. Two years later, the Boston Red Sox, using Beane's example, broke their 86 year long championship drought. They did it with a combination of the payroll that Beane didn't have and the sabremetric system (see link above).
A few friends of mine have rightfully pointed out that it's just as rough for viewers as it is for the fictional Beane that not only does the precedent he put into practice not work for him, but the team that does use it successfully is the very team that took one of Oakland's star players. There's even a title card at the end of the film to tell us this, as Moneyball doesn't really know quite to to finish the story: Peter shows Billy footage that metaphorically describes what happened and then Beane drives through Oakland listening to a song his daughter Casey (Kerris Dorsey) recorded for him. Moneyball's ending isn't ambiguous in a way that makes much of a difference, because the stark black and white title cards break the bad news to anybody watching the film that thought "well, maybe next year!"
I don't actually like having to point out that Moneyball is a tease of a movie, one that is eternally heading in a direction it can't actually go, and one that the film itself has to grudgingly admit hasn't happened before the credits roll. Moneyball is a solid film with great dialogue, understated performances, and is compelling even when you know how things end. I like that Brad Pitt plays Billy Beane as kind of a dick, an aloof general manager who doesn't like traveling or associating with the players because he's going to need to trade them. He's not exactly a likeable character but you like him anyway, because he makes the best of a bad situation. He's also almost always eating something: I feel the need to point this out because I began to notice it halfway through the film and then couldn't stop paying attention to the fact that Pitt is constantly chewing on something during Moneyball.
Jonah Hill is also very good and I guess un-Jonah Hill-esque as "Peter Brand," a guy who spends the first half of the film in awe of Beane and the second half trying to keep him engaged with the team's success. While I thought he was good, I don't exactly understand the nomination of "Best Supporting Actor" as the only real difference between Moneyball Jonah Hill and every other Jonah Hill performance is that he isn't cracking sarcastic jokes. It's a little like his character from Cyrus - a movie I really didn't like - but without the manipulative streak in that film. Hill was as good as Phillip Seymour Hoffman, who plays Howe as a guy that doesn't get or approve of what Beane is doing but instead of being a jerk because he can, also makes the best of a bad situation. He thinks he's on the way out because Beane won't discuss renewing his contract, but instead of being vindictive, he plays the team that will help him get a job next year. Why Hill was nominated and Hoffman wasn't, I couldn't say. They're both as good as Pitt, who was also nominated for reasons I don't quite get.
Now this sounds like I'm knocking Jonah Hill or Brad Pitt, and I'm not. I liked Moneyball, and I liked everybody in Moneyball and will probably watch it again, but I didn't see why the film was Academy Award material. There are really good movies that don't need to be nominated for Academy Awards, or aren't nominated, I guess I should say, and I'd put Moneyball in that category. It wouldn't make my "Top" list from 2011, but it would be in that bracket with Bridesmaids and Attack the Block and Conan O'Brien Can't Stop. To be fair, that's where I'd put The Artist, too, so that shows how much I understand about Academy Awards politics. What I'm saying is that you should check out Moneyball, even if you aren't into baseball, but understand that like real life, sometimes things don't work out, or necessarily end.
After all, Billy Beane is still in Oakland and this season he's decided to sign Manny Ramirez to a minor league deal with the option to play for the A's. Manny Ramirez played for the Boston Red Sox when they won the World Series in 2004 (and again in 2007). You never know - there might be a Moneyball 2 someday...
Sunday, March 4, 2012
There'll Be No One to Stope Trailer Sunday This Time!
The Swell Season
Fort Apache
Nothing in Common
Three Outlaw Samurai
Miami Vice
The Iron Rose
2012 Zombie Apocalypse
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Blogorium Review: Hugo
When reading reviews for Martin Scorsese's Hugo, his first 3-D film (and arguably first family film, although I certainly don't see how you could say that when Bringing Out the Dead has been out for thirteen years), they tend to fall into one of two categories: the ones that tell you about who one of the major characters in the film actually is and the ones that don't. The ones that don't limit themselves, because then you can only vaguely dance around what happens in the second half of Hugo. Since it's been out for a while now and I think you're all capable of handling a "spoiler," I'm going to go ahead and tell you - in a few paragraphs.
If you're afraid that this might ruin your experience of watching Hugo (double SPOILER: it won't), please know that it's a fine film that does not actually represent a) Scorsese selling out, or b) the decline of cinema through more 3-D gimmickry. It's a fine film, one that adults and children alike will enjoy, and is a celebration of the art of cinema in the purest sense. I firmly believe you'll have a fine time watching Hugo and your kids might even learn something about the so-called "boring" world of silent, black-and-white cinema. I bet you could even get them to sit down and watch The Artist with you afterward. Well, that's your spoiler-free review. There are a few more paragraphs and then I'll go ahead and blow the "twist," so if that frets you, stick around as long as you feel comfortable, knowing I dug the film.
Early on, I was worried about Hugo for two reasons. The first one is that it's readily apparent when you're watching Hugo in 2-D (which is how most of you will be seeing it on home video) that the opening is meant to be seen in 3-D, and it's a little disconcerting. The opening shot where Scorsese travels through the train station, passing between trains and through the crowds milling about, has a strange processed look like a computer was designed to process layers in a 3-D manner. I'm not describing it effectively, but that's because it's the sort of thing you'll understand when you see it. Likewise, when Hugo Cabret (Asa Butterfield) is running around through the innards of the train station, between pipes and clockwork, it's readily apparent we're missing out on some level of extra-dimensionality. I was greatly concerned this would affect watching Hugo in the only way I could (at the time), but the film gradually settles down these flourishes by the time the narrative kicks in.
Of greater concern was the opening segment designed to introduce the people who work in the train station. Things start off innocently enough with Papa Georges (Ben Kingsley) and his adopted "daughter" Isabelle (Chloë Grace Moretz), but then we start meeting people who seem to fill anonymous, stock roles you need for kids' movies. There's the fat guy, Monsieur Frick (Richard Griffiths), who has a crush on the lady with the hat and dog, Madame Emilie (Frances de la Tour). The dog doesn't like the man, so he's scared away. There's the nice flower lady, Lisette (Emily Mortimer), a creepy looking librarian, Monsieur Labisse (Christopher Lee), and Django Reinhardt (Emil Lager), who plays with his band.
And then what I call the "stupid kids' crap" happens, and that REALLY worried me. See, the thing I hate about movies for kids is the idea that there need to be shenanigans that children will enjoy in order to keep them engaged, so the chase scene between Hugo, the Station Inspector (Sacha Baron Cohen), and his doberman was cause for concern. Not only are there plenty of pratfalls for Cohen, who has a brace on one leg and runs awkwardly, including the inspector running into a cello and knocking over tables and chairs, but the scene culminates in the kind of groan-inducing slapstick I hate. Hugo manages to escape because one of the train doors catches the Inspector's brace, and he is dragged alongside the train until a few well placed pieces of luggage and boxes provide us with a "nut-shot," followed by a shot of the doberman looking away, embarrassed by his owner.
Thankfully, that's largely the extent of the "kids' movie crap" that prevented me from enjoying Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone and most live action films with child protagonists (with the exception, of course, of Catch That Kid). After Martin Scorsese puts the pieces in place, he begins to focus less on pratfalls and anthropomorphic reaction shots, and more on a central mystery: the automation Hugo has been trying to fix. That, in large part, links Cabret with Isabelle, Georges, and his wife Jeanne (Helen McCrory).
Papa Georges, it turns out, is Georges Méliès, one of the early pioneers of fantasy films and special effects, best known for making Le Voyage dans la lune (A Trip to the Moon) that everyone who ever took a film appreciation class or has opened a book on film history knows. By the time Hugo takes place, his films have all been lost and his career forgotten, and Georges works in the train station selling wind-up toys. I'm not really sure that his identity is such a spoiler, since there's a poster for A Trip to the Moon prominently displayed on the wall of his shop*. The filmmaker refuses to talk about his past, until Hugo and Isabelle meet Rene Tabard (Michael Stuhlbarg), a film historian who happens to have found one of the "lost" films of Méliès. While the mystery of the automaton is tied up into this revelation, the second half of Hugo is largely about Méliès and appreciating film's impact on audiences.
I haven't read The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick (the grandcousin[?] of film producer David O. Selznick) so I don't know if it pushes for film preservation and retrospectives as much as Hugo does or if that's Scorsese's fetish shining through (screenwriter John Logan too, I suppose). Either way, once Scorsese gets tired to stupid kid crap, Hugo makes a turn in the right direction, first as a movie about horrible things that happened to Hugo Cabret before we meet him, and then as a love letter to the movies. The stock characters filling up the train station begin to flesh out a bit more, and suddenly it feels like we're watching a real movie and not a dumb kid's movie from the director of frequently violent or disturbing films.
Speaking of which, the film has a habit of tricking audiences into forgetting the horrible ways that Hugo's first two "father figures" meet their maker: his clock-making father (Jude Law) dies in a fire / explosion in the museum he works at, and Uncle Claude (Ray Winstone) drowns in the river Seine and isn't found for months (which explains how Hugo was able to continue fixing the clocks without the Inspector thinking twice about it). It's not as though he lives a charmed life, by any means; Hugo has the apartment he lives in, his automaton, and whatever he can scrounge from the station without being seen. I'm not saying Hugo has it easy or anything, is all.
I would like to point out that not only are all of the people I listed early in the review given more depth than simply filling out "types" that children can easily recognize, but Sacha Baron Cohen's Station Inspector has a character arc all of his own. Not only is he infatuated with Lisette, the florist, but held back because he's self-conscious about his brace (a result of World War I injuries), there's also a very good reason that he insists of sending children he catches to the orphanage. There are tiny touches of dialogue between the Inspector and other character that give you the impression he's a human being and not just a convenient plot device to keep Hugo from wandering about freely. I appreciate that, because it's not something you get all the time.
Hugo feels like a hybrid of children's entertainment and the passions of Martin Scorsese, a union that works in ways that a director of lesser talent would be incapable of. In fact, I don't know that anyone else could have found the delicate balance needed to keep Hugo from being boring to kids or insipid to adults. It allows the director to also sneak in a lesson about film history to audiences that won't be expecting it, integrated in such a wonderful way that it feels like the only way Hugo could end. I wish I had seen it in 3-D, if only because there are a few instances late in the movie where Scorsese plays with the technique to emulate how audiences reacted to early cinema. However, if you can't see it in 3-D, just be ready for a bumpy opening followed by an engrossing experience, even if it is in two dimensions.
* This may be the only "plot hole" in Hugo that stuck out to me. If Georges is so saddened by the loss of his films that he refuses to talk about "the past," why on earth would he keep a poster for one of his films in his shop?
If you're afraid that this might ruin your experience of watching Hugo (double SPOILER: it won't), please know that it's a fine film that does not actually represent a) Scorsese selling out, or b) the decline of cinema through more 3-D gimmickry. It's a fine film, one that adults and children alike will enjoy, and is a celebration of the art of cinema in the purest sense. I firmly believe you'll have a fine time watching Hugo and your kids might even learn something about the so-called "boring" world of silent, black-and-white cinema. I bet you could even get them to sit down and watch The Artist with you afterward. Well, that's your spoiler-free review. There are a few more paragraphs and then I'll go ahead and blow the "twist," so if that frets you, stick around as long as you feel comfortable, knowing I dug the film.
Of greater concern was the opening segment designed to introduce the people who work in the train station. Things start off innocently enough with Papa Georges (Ben Kingsley) and his adopted "daughter" Isabelle (Chloë Grace Moretz), but then we start meeting people who seem to fill anonymous, stock roles you need for kids' movies. There's the fat guy, Monsieur Frick (Richard Griffiths), who has a crush on the lady with the hat and dog, Madame Emilie (Frances de la Tour). The dog doesn't like the man, so he's scared away. There's the nice flower lady, Lisette (Emily Mortimer), a creepy looking librarian, Monsieur Labisse (Christopher Lee), and Django Reinhardt (Emil Lager), who plays with his band.
And then what I call the "stupid kids' crap" happens, and that REALLY worried me. See, the thing I hate about movies for kids is the idea that there need to be shenanigans that children will enjoy in order to keep them engaged, so the chase scene between Hugo, the Station Inspector (Sacha Baron Cohen), and his doberman was cause for concern. Not only are there plenty of pratfalls for Cohen, who has a brace on one leg and runs awkwardly, including the inspector running into a cello and knocking over tables and chairs, but the scene culminates in the kind of groan-inducing slapstick I hate. Hugo manages to escape because one of the train doors catches the Inspector's brace, and he is dragged alongside the train until a few well placed pieces of luggage and boxes provide us with a "nut-shot," followed by a shot of the doberman looking away, embarrassed by his owner.
Thankfully, that's largely the extent of the "kids' movie crap" that prevented me from enjoying Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone and most live action films with child protagonists (with the exception, of course, of Catch That Kid). After Martin Scorsese puts the pieces in place, he begins to focus less on pratfalls and anthropomorphic reaction shots, and more on a central mystery: the automation Hugo has been trying to fix. That, in large part, links Cabret with Isabelle, Georges, and his wife Jeanne (Helen McCrory).
Papa Georges, it turns out, is Georges Méliès, one of the early pioneers of fantasy films and special effects, best known for making Le Voyage dans la lune (A Trip to the Moon) that everyone who ever took a film appreciation class or has opened a book on film history knows. By the time Hugo takes place, his films have all been lost and his career forgotten, and Georges works in the train station selling wind-up toys. I'm not really sure that his identity is such a spoiler, since there's a poster for A Trip to the Moon prominently displayed on the wall of his shop*. The filmmaker refuses to talk about his past, until Hugo and Isabelle meet Rene Tabard (Michael Stuhlbarg), a film historian who happens to have found one of the "lost" films of Méliès. While the mystery of the automaton is tied up into this revelation, the second half of Hugo is largely about Méliès and appreciating film's impact on audiences.
I haven't read The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick (the grandcousin[?] of film producer David O. Selznick) so I don't know if it pushes for film preservation and retrospectives as much as Hugo does or if that's Scorsese's fetish shining through (screenwriter John Logan too, I suppose). Either way, once Scorsese gets tired to stupid kid crap, Hugo makes a turn in the right direction, first as a movie about horrible things that happened to Hugo Cabret before we meet him, and then as a love letter to the movies. The stock characters filling up the train station begin to flesh out a bit more, and suddenly it feels like we're watching a real movie and not a dumb kid's movie from the director of frequently violent or disturbing films.
Speaking of which, the film has a habit of tricking audiences into forgetting the horrible ways that Hugo's first two "father figures" meet their maker: his clock-making father (Jude Law) dies in a fire / explosion in the museum he works at, and Uncle Claude (Ray Winstone) drowns in the river Seine and isn't found for months (which explains how Hugo was able to continue fixing the clocks without the Inspector thinking twice about it). It's not as though he lives a charmed life, by any means; Hugo has the apartment he lives in, his automaton, and whatever he can scrounge from the station without being seen. I'm not saying Hugo has it easy or anything, is all.
I would like to point out that not only are all of the people I listed early in the review given more depth than simply filling out "types" that children can easily recognize, but Sacha Baron Cohen's Station Inspector has a character arc all of his own. Not only is he infatuated with Lisette, the florist, but held back because he's self-conscious about his brace (a result of World War I injuries), there's also a very good reason that he insists of sending children he catches to the orphanage. There are tiny touches of dialogue between the Inspector and other character that give you the impression he's a human being and not just a convenient plot device to keep Hugo from wandering about freely. I appreciate that, because it's not something you get all the time.
Hugo feels like a hybrid of children's entertainment and the passions of Martin Scorsese, a union that works in ways that a director of lesser talent would be incapable of. In fact, I don't know that anyone else could have found the delicate balance needed to keep Hugo from being boring to kids or insipid to adults. It allows the director to also sneak in a lesson about film history to audiences that won't be expecting it, integrated in such a wonderful way that it feels like the only way Hugo could end. I wish I had seen it in 3-D, if only because there are a few instances late in the movie where Scorsese plays with the technique to emulate how audiences reacted to early cinema. However, if you can't see it in 3-D, just be ready for a bumpy opening followed by an engrossing experience, even if it is in two dimensions.
* This may be the only "plot hole" in Hugo that stuck out to me. If Georges is so saddened by the loss of his films that he refuses to talk about "the past," why on earth would he keep a poster for one of his films in his shop?
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Good Pen Pals Like Today's Video Daily Double!
Salutations, my Educationeer compatriots! Your Cap'n returns for another splendid and informative Video Daily Double. As I surmise, many of you have experienced the jubilant and enriching practice known as composing letters to your "pen pal." They abide in distant locales, breathe unique air, and regale you with exploits heretofore unknown to you. In return, you must be expected to share your idiosyncratic outlook on the world, and this is where yours truly comes to the rescue. Presented for you enrichment are two cinematic features designed to improve your penmanship and embolden your utilization of our fine language.
Improve!
---
Our first short subject, Writing Better Social Letters, ought to bolster your communication skills and keep that "pen pal" of yours anticipating the latest correspondence.
Our second film, Build Your Vocabulary, will make your speak better. Your write, to.
Improve!
---
Our first short subject, Writing Better Social Letters, ought to bolster your communication skills and keep that "pen pal" of yours anticipating the latest correspondence.
Our second film, Build Your Vocabulary, will make your speak better. Your write, to.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Retro Double Feature Review: Being John Malkovich and Dogma
Let's jump back to November of 1999, somewhere in the greater Guilford County area of North Carolina. A young Cap'n was a... sophomore (?) in college*, living on campus in a dorm with like-minded film geeks and friends nearby with similar interests. We had some friends in town, some cars available, and The Janus Theatre not far away. They just so happened to be showing both Being John Malkovich (just opening) and Dogma (out for a few weeks). We had internet access, were acutely aware of both films and the buzz surrounding them.
One one hand, music video director Spike Jonze's first feature film, dealing with puppeteer John Cusack discovering a tunnel into the head of John Malkovich. On the other, Kevin Smith's fourth film, comparatively epic in scope, about the descendant of Jesus trying to stop two rogue angels from wiping out humanity. The Catholic League had already condemned one of the films, and strangely it wasn't the one about being able to control another person by inhabiting their mind, or even the moment of meta brilliance when Malkovich climbs into the tunnel and enters his own head.
You already know all of this, because I doubt there's a person reading something called Cap'n Howdy's Blogorium that hasn't seen both films - probably several times. We were a jubilant bunch of college kids ready for a fun time with some pals from out of town, and it only made sense to stick around and watch them in one night. Not everybody stayed, but those of us that did were in for an experience. Want to venture a guess which one we saw first?
If you guessed Dogma, you would be smart to think that. We weren't so smart, so we watched the decidedly unique, eccentric Malkovich first, and then stumbled into Smith's Dogma, gobsmacked by the fiercely idiosyncratic debut from Jonze. Oops. Looking back on it now, knowing what I know about each film, I would have flipped the order (if not removed Dogma altogether, but we'll get to that), but the reason we went to The Janus in the first place was to see Being John Malkovich. That Dogma was playing there, in such close proximity, scheduling-wise, was an added bonus for Kevin Smith-philes who wanted to stick around. Malkovich was always going to come first, and regardless of how into Kevin Smith you were, there's no comparison.
Let's say that somehow you knew exactly how Being John Malkovich unfolded, with all of its unexpected turns and "Ma-Sheen" cameos. Even knowing all of that, including how it plays out with Malkovich the puppeteer or the baby with John Cusack trapped inside, you still wouldn't be prepared for how well Jonze and writer Charlie Kaufman unfolds this madness and compounds it as time goes on. It's such a joyfully strange movie, a curio that pays off with repeated viewings and paved the way for Adaptation and the Kaufman / Michel Gondry team-up that produced Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and the eventual solo Kaufman magnum opus Synecdoche, New York (not to mention the tonally similar Be Kind, Rewind, Where the Wild Things Are, and even The Science of Sleep).
After a few friends took off, we went back in to see Dogma, the hotly anticipated, apparently forcefully recut, dropped from one studio because of backlash from religious groups and picked up by another fourth film from Kevin Smith (Clerks, Mallrats, Chasing Amy). To say that we were massive Kevin Smith fans in 1999 is frankly an understatement: I firmly believe we watched Clerks as frequently as we did Army of Darkness and Cannibal! The Musical on weekends and followed any and everything that Smith said online. In fact, during one online chat, young Cap'n managed to get a question in about working with comedians and improvisation to the slacker auteur, and he answered it. It was as close a brush with greatness as when Henry Rollins let a good friend of our grab his butt (true story).
So anyway, Dogma itself. Oddly, but the thing that sticks out from that screening was seeing the trailer for American Psycho for the first time - I didn't really know who Christian Bale was (sorry, Empire of the Sun fans, the Cap'n was ignorant) and was vaguely aware of Bret Easton Ellis' novel and the film's turbulent production history. And then Dogma started.
Do you remember how you tried to convince yourself that you liked The Phantom Menace or House of 1000 Corpses even when you secretly understood it sucked? How you couldn't process looking forward to something so much that when it didn't live up to lofty expectations (or even the deliberately lowered expectations that come technically from a Kevin Smith fan in the 1990s)? If you were like me, you probably kept talking about things that were immaterial to the quality of the film itself: like how it was pro-faith without being pro-organized religion. It lampooned Catholicism as an institution but not faith in principle, etc. That's true. It also had a shit monster, Jason Lee shooting people, some hockey playing teenage monsters, more vaguely homophobic comedy, more sex jokes, a contrived and tenuous connection to John Hughes as a means to get Jay and Silent Bob into the film, and a runtime of 130 minutes.
The longer version that doesn't actually exist because Smith decided he liked keeping the additional deleted footage deleted doesn't necessarily make much of a difference. At two hours and ten minutes, Dogma is too long, to leisurely paced, and not funny or interesting enough to sustain interest. Not that I didn't keep trying for another three or four years after that. It wasn't until a point well after Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back that I went back and realized that between Clerks and Clerks 2, I didn't actually enjoy any of the Kevin Smith films as much as I told myself I did. I've been down this road before so I'll keep it brief, but Dogma was possibly the moment that began the shift in perception. I may have told myself I really liked it, but I can't remember what it was about Dogma that sent me out of the Janus happier than after Being John Malkovich.
I sure miss The Janus - it's no longer in existence, and while the "Bistro" section of the Carousel tries to replicate it's atmosphere, it's off by a mile. The Screen in Santa Fe came close, and possibly the Colony or Mission Valley are similar, but I do miss that theatre. It split the difference between arthouse theatre and multiplex very well, and we saw some fantastic films there.
Talking about all of these double features really makes me want to have another one, if I could think of two movies I really wanted to see playing closely enough together. That, and finding friends who have the time to do that (increasingly difficult) or want to spend that much time / money on what can often be seen as a calculated gamble. Seriously - ask anyone who went with us to see Idle Hands.
* Second year for sure, but I'm not positive the credit hours would technically count me. Hrm...
One one hand, music video director Spike Jonze's first feature film, dealing with puppeteer John Cusack discovering a tunnel into the head of John Malkovich. On the other, Kevin Smith's fourth film, comparatively epic in scope, about the descendant of Jesus trying to stop two rogue angels from wiping out humanity. The Catholic League had already condemned one of the films, and strangely it wasn't the one about being able to control another person by inhabiting their mind, or even the moment of meta brilliance when Malkovich climbs into the tunnel and enters his own head.
You already know all of this, because I doubt there's a person reading something called Cap'n Howdy's Blogorium that hasn't seen both films - probably several times. We were a jubilant bunch of college kids ready for a fun time with some pals from out of town, and it only made sense to stick around and watch them in one night. Not everybody stayed, but those of us that did were in for an experience. Want to venture a guess which one we saw first?
Let's say that somehow you knew exactly how Being John Malkovich unfolded, with all of its unexpected turns and "Ma-Sheen" cameos. Even knowing all of that, including how it plays out with Malkovich the puppeteer or the baby with John Cusack trapped inside, you still wouldn't be prepared for how well Jonze and writer Charlie Kaufman unfolds this madness and compounds it as time goes on. It's such a joyfully strange movie, a curio that pays off with repeated viewings and paved the way for Adaptation and the Kaufman / Michel Gondry team-up that produced Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and the eventual solo Kaufman magnum opus Synecdoche, New York (not to mention the tonally similar Be Kind, Rewind, Where the Wild Things Are, and even The Science of Sleep).
After a few friends took off, we went back in to see Dogma, the hotly anticipated, apparently forcefully recut, dropped from one studio because of backlash from religious groups and picked up by another fourth film from Kevin Smith (Clerks, Mallrats, Chasing Amy). To say that we were massive Kevin Smith fans in 1999 is frankly an understatement: I firmly believe we watched Clerks as frequently as we did Army of Darkness and Cannibal! The Musical on weekends and followed any and everything that Smith said online. In fact, during one online chat, young Cap'n managed to get a question in about working with comedians and improvisation to the slacker auteur, and he answered it. It was as close a brush with greatness as when Henry Rollins let a good friend of our grab his butt (true story).
So anyway, Dogma itself. Oddly, but the thing that sticks out from that screening was seeing the trailer for American Psycho for the first time - I didn't really know who Christian Bale was (sorry, Empire of the Sun fans, the Cap'n was ignorant) and was vaguely aware of Bret Easton Ellis' novel and the film's turbulent production history. And then Dogma started.
The longer version that doesn't actually exist because Smith decided he liked keeping the additional deleted footage deleted doesn't necessarily make much of a difference. At two hours and ten minutes, Dogma is too long, to leisurely paced, and not funny or interesting enough to sustain interest. Not that I didn't keep trying for another three or four years after that. It wasn't until a point well after Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back that I went back and realized that between Clerks and Clerks 2, I didn't actually enjoy any of the Kevin Smith films as much as I told myself I did. I've been down this road before so I'll keep it brief, but Dogma was possibly the moment that began the shift in perception. I may have told myself I really liked it, but I can't remember what it was about Dogma that sent me out of the Janus happier than after Being John Malkovich.
I sure miss The Janus - it's no longer in existence, and while the "Bistro" section of the Carousel tries to replicate it's atmosphere, it's off by a mile. The Screen in Santa Fe came close, and possibly the Colony or Mission Valley are similar, but I do miss that theatre. It split the difference between arthouse theatre and multiplex very well, and we saw some fantastic films there.
Talking about all of these double features really makes me want to have another one, if I could think of two movies I really wanted to see playing closely enough together. That, and finding friends who have the time to do that (increasingly difficult) or want to spend that much time / money on what can often be seen as a calculated gamble. Seriously - ask anyone who went with us to see Idle Hands.
* Second year for sure, but I'm not positive the credit hours would technically count me. Hrm...
Monday, February 27, 2012
Blogorium Review: My Week with Marilyn
My Week with Marilyn is a good enough to pretty good movie that I just didn't really connect with. It's a well made movie, and it's a compelling - and true - enough story: Laurence Olivier (Kenneth Branagh) invites Marilyn Monroe (Michelle Williams) to come to England to shoot the movie eventually named The Prince and the Showgirl (hands up if you've ever seen it - I wasn't even aware of it before this film). Colin Clark (Eddie Redmayne) is the child of a family of distinction who wants to make it on his own, so he moves to London to work in pictures, eventually working his way up to third assistant director under Olivier.
Monroe, who arrives with new husband Arthur Miller (Dougray Scott) and entourage including Milton Green (Dominic Cooper), Arthur Jacobs (Toby Jones), and Paula Strasberg (Zoë Wanamaker) her acting coach, begins behaving erratically almost immediately, to the consternation of Olivier. He objects to her inability to arrive on time, her Method acting style, and her mood swings. Clark is making the best of being the assistant to the assistant - David Orton (Roger Portal) - to Laurence Olivier. He is briefly involved with Lucy (Emma Watson), the costume girl, before becoming infatuated with Monroe, who takes a shining to the young man and insists her bodyguard Roger Smith (Phillip Jackson) arrange to pick him up and bring Clark over to the country home he found for her.
The film is based on Colin Clark's diaries, detailing his experiences with Monroe, Olivier, and the film industry during the making of The Prince and the Showgirl, and that should make a more compelling film knowing that this happened, but I often found myself comparing My Week with Marilyn to An Education. Both films are about British youths finding their way in the world, getting involved with someone older despite being warned by nearly everyone else around them that this isn't going to work out. Of course, it doesn't work out, because it couldn't possibly work out being involved emotionally with someone married (something I might visit again when I get to reviewing The Descendants, a much better film about complicated relationships), but our protagonists plunge headlong and yet seem totally unscathed by the end of the film.
I didn't enjoy the fact that despite the title An Education, Jenny (Carey Mulligan) didn't learn anything, nor did she appear to change in any way while insisting everybody around her was wrong. Eddie Redmayne's Colin Clark is very much the same, blatantly disregarding everyone he looked up when they tell him not to fall for Marilyn's "little girl lost" act. Olivier recognizes it as the strength of her natural acting ability, Milton Green tells Clark he had a similar infatuation that crashed and burned, but Colin won't listen. He's so delusional that he genuinely believes he can talk Monroe into giving up acting despite the fact everything she tells him explains that she needs him to play the role of someone "on my side" during the production.
Like An Education, My Week with Marilyn ends without Colin seeming to have learned anything at all, encapsulated in a scene when he tries to rebound with Lucy. She asks him if Monroe broke his heart, and Colin smiles and says "a little." That Lucy says "good" and walks away is a hollow comeuppance for the guy we're supposed to relate to. I can't imagine the film failing in a more spectacular way than making the "ordinary" protagonist who brushes with greatness during the story of My Week with Marilyn exiting the narrative very much the same way he entered it. This has no direct bearing on the actual Colin Clark, but more likely tied to writer Adrian Hodges and director Simon Curtis, who are directly responsible for the film based on his diaries. Well, and Eddie Redmayne, who plays Clark as basically the same person from beginning to end. I can't help but think that there must have been a better way to portray Clark instead of an obstinate young man who doesn't seem even bothered when Marilyn Monroe inevitably pushes him away.
Michelle Williams and Kenneth Branagh are certainly fine in this film, and there are lots of other famous names in tiny parts: in addition to Dougray Scott and Toby Jones, you'll see Judi Dench, Derek Jacobi, and Julia Ormond in the film (Ormond, in fact, plays Vivien Leigh, Olivier's wife who strongly suspects her husband wants to leave her for Monroe early in the film). It's a nice looking movie and I think the performances helped ease my distaste with the lack of character progression. It's entirely possible that many of you will enjoy My Week with Marilyn more than I did, and I do recommend it for Williams, who taps into the vulnerability of Monroe while never reducing her to the caricature everyone seems to expect in the film itself. It's the sort of performance that overcomes the weaknesses of the film and keeps you invested, even when you don't want to be.
The film is based on Colin Clark's diaries, detailing his experiences with Monroe, Olivier, and the film industry during the making of The Prince and the Showgirl, and that should make a more compelling film knowing that this happened, but I often found myself comparing My Week with Marilyn to An Education. Both films are about British youths finding their way in the world, getting involved with someone older despite being warned by nearly everyone else around them that this isn't going to work out. Of course, it doesn't work out, because it couldn't possibly work out being involved emotionally with someone married (something I might visit again when I get to reviewing The Descendants, a much better film about complicated relationships), but our protagonists plunge headlong and yet seem totally unscathed by the end of the film.
I didn't enjoy the fact that despite the title An Education, Jenny (Carey Mulligan) didn't learn anything, nor did she appear to change in any way while insisting everybody around her was wrong. Eddie Redmayne's Colin Clark is very much the same, blatantly disregarding everyone he looked up when they tell him not to fall for Marilyn's "little girl lost" act. Olivier recognizes it as the strength of her natural acting ability, Milton Green tells Clark he had a similar infatuation that crashed and burned, but Colin won't listen. He's so delusional that he genuinely believes he can talk Monroe into giving up acting despite the fact everything she tells him explains that she needs him to play the role of someone "on my side" during the production.
Like An Education, My Week with Marilyn ends without Colin seeming to have learned anything at all, encapsulated in a scene when he tries to rebound with Lucy. She asks him if Monroe broke his heart, and Colin smiles and says "a little." That Lucy says "good" and walks away is a hollow comeuppance for the guy we're supposed to relate to. I can't imagine the film failing in a more spectacular way than making the "ordinary" protagonist who brushes with greatness during the story of My Week with Marilyn exiting the narrative very much the same way he entered it. This has no direct bearing on the actual Colin Clark, but more likely tied to writer Adrian Hodges and director Simon Curtis, who are directly responsible for the film based on his diaries. Well, and Eddie Redmayne, who plays Clark as basically the same person from beginning to end. I can't help but think that there must have been a better way to portray Clark instead of an obstinate young man who doesn't seem even bothered when Marilyn Monroe inevitably pushes him away.
Michelle Williams and Kenneth Branagh are certainly fine in this film, and there are lots of other famous names in tiny parts: in addition to Dougray Scott and Toby Jones, you'll see Judi Dench, Derek Jacobi, and Julia Ormond in the film (Ormond, in fact, plays Vivien Leigh, Olivier's wife who strongly suspects her husband wants to leave her for Monroe early in the film). It's a nice looking movie and I think the performances helped ease my distaste with the lack of character progression. It's entirely possible that many of you will enjoy My Week with Marilyn more than I did, and I do recommend it for Williams, who taps into the vulnerability of Monroe while never reducing her to the caricature everyone seems to expect in the film itself. It's the sort of performance that overcomes the weaknesses of the film and keeps you invested, even when you don't want to be.
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