Green Lantern

Green Lantern (2011) by Martin Campbell

Green Lantern was a letdown, but I'm interested in the sequel. There is no other way to describe this film, an adaptation of the long-running B-List DC Comics cosmic superhero. There was so much potential with this film, so much for it to get right (an epic cosmic setting; a likable---if somewhat miscast---leading man; some decent-to-good supporting actors; the potential for images and set-pieces that go beyond anything that has so far been shown in comic book films; a director who knows how to stage exciting action as well as introduce audiences to action characters), but in the end it felt too much like a half-assed attempt to create a lower-budgeted, slightly less-charming, DC-version of Iron Man. DC's track history of adapting their characters into successful films seems to begin and end with Superman and Batman, and even then with mixed results.

The film introduces us to Hal Jordan (a charismatic yet miscast Ryan Reynolds), a hotshot test pilot working with Carol Ferris (a vapid Blake Lively), another test pilot whose father, Carl (Jay O. Sanders) owns the prestigious Ferris Aircraft company, and whose government contracts Hal jeopardizes during a test run of their drone fighter jets. Following his test flight, Hal encounters the purple-skinned alien, Abin Sur (Temura Morrison), who has crashed-landed off a beach in Coast City following an encounter with the fear-fueled entity Parallax. Hal, it is explained, has been chosen to be a member of the intergalactic Green Lantern Corps, essentially a galactic police force. Abin Sur's ring, powered by a central battery on the ancient planet Oa, chose Hal for his courage, spirit, and responsibility, features which he and his friends fail to see. Meanwhile, Professor Hector Hammond (the severely underused Peter Sarsgaard), having been hired by Amanda Waller (Angela Bassett) to perform a postmortem on Abin Sur, contacts a minuscule amount of yellow energy, which is what powers Parallax, and begins a bizarre transformation into a deformed, telekinetic villain.

Now, that might make it seem like the movie has some interesting points, and, to its credit, I loved the parts that were set in space. The Hal Jordan incarnation of the Green Lantern is a cosmic science fiction story, set in space and encountering aliens and bizarre forms of life. It's like a 1950's sci-fi serial, but with a superhero angle to it, and the potential for exciting, cosmic derring-do on the big screen (and in 3D!) were apparent. Sadly, though, this film feels like a bipolar patient: should it be big and swooping and grand and epic, or should it spend most of its runtime in an apartment spouting exposition? Should we see the character create matter out of pure thought and will, things that boggle the imagination and are limited only by the boundaries of human imagination, or should we continue to make the audience endure a trite love story involving two characters who have no chemistry and nothing in common aside from us being told that they grew up together and they're both attractive so...why the fuck not?! Should we show Kilowog for the briefest of scenes, and waste Mark Strong, perfectly cast as Sinestro, or should we allow Peter Sarsgaard ham it up in a role that was obviously edited down to something much more goofy and silly and nonthreatening? Should we show all the cool, kick-ass cosmic adventures, or should we, once again (***yawn***) have the characters just sit in an apartment and talk?

I mention the apartments because 1/3 of the movie is set in apartments; either Hal's or Hector's. And...it's unexplainable. One of the clearest examples of how convoluted this film is occurs late in the second act (**SPOILER ALERT...I GUESS**): Hector Hammond has broken out of being strapped to an examination table, and has threatened to kill his own father, Senator Hammond (Tim Robbins). Hector now exhibits telekinetic powers and is a viable threat to Hal Jordan. Jordan appears, the two fight each other briefly (Hector getting melted fucking glass thrown in his face), and then Hector disappears as Jordan remains, disturbed and dispirited by his failure to capture Hector. In the NEXT SHOT, Hector Hammond is in his apartment, writhing on his bed, and Jordan, too, returns to HIS apartment, and immediately sits down to feel sorry for himself. Next scene? Carol is giving Jordan a pep talk in his very apartment, telling him to get off his ass and use his crazy-ass space ring to save the world. The film went from telekinetic action fight scene, to both characters just wasting time at home. Again, it doesn't make a lick of sense, and tonally it's just bizarre.

The film suffers from an almost palpable sense of lack of self-confidence, and seems to be unable to decide whether it should go for the scope it deserves, or if it should just save that for the sequel. Hopefully, the inevitable sequel (it's already in the works by WB, which is desperate for a new, post-Harry Potter franchise) goes bigger and better and more fantastic.

Despite its lack of scale and cosmic scope, the two lead roles (Ryan Reynolds, and Peter Sarsgaard) do their absolute best to make the material work. Reynolds (while not my first choice; Nathan Fillion, despite his age, would have made the perfect Hal) is likable and charming enough to pull off the cockiness of Hal, and seems fit enough to pull off the physicality of the role, despite his range being slightly stunted (Hal is either doubtful of himself, or self-assured. That's about the range of his emotions. There is nothing else to him).I was never bored with Hal, but felt that he was sometimes a bit to hung up with the "I'm not good enough for the Corps" lamentation, nor could I stand the fact that it took his girlfriend to snap him out of his funk and make him man up and embrace his cosmic role.

Peter Sarsgaard, on the other hand, hams it up (after a build-up), offering a thankfully lively role to contrast against Blake Lively, who is beyond cardboard thin, and miscast as a test pilot herself. Sarsgaard's Hammond---a dweebish college science professor (who works in a building labeled “Science Building”)---plays the villainous role as broadly as a mustache-twirling mad scientist, and seems to be enjoying the change of pace, rather than continually playing psychologically heavy, flawed characters. Here, Hammond's biggest trait (aside from his grotesquely huge forehead and telekinetic power), is being a disappointment to his father, and Sarsgaard manages to portray this inner turmoil in a surprisingly nuanced manner (up until the point where he hams it up entirely in the aforementioned telekinetic fight scene). Knowing little about the comic incarnation of the character, I don't know how faithful Sarsgaard's interpretation truly is, and while there were a few abrupt scene transitions and motivations in his character, I attribute that more to the editing of the film rather than the script itself.

The script itself isn't as bad as others might make it out to be. In fact, again, I felt that all of the cosmic, space-set scenes worked perfectly. I imagine that the prospect of introducing a B-list comic character, one based in science fiction and with a villain none might not recognize outside of the hardcore fans, would have been an incredibly hard sell. That is the only reason I can imagine for the film's insistence on staying in Coast City, in Hal's apartment cracking wise and continually doubting his worthiness of being a Lantern: we can all relate to someone just sitting around an apartment, as opposed to someone with a cosmic space ring. Sure, it's easy to relate, but it makes for lackluster storytelling.

Green Lantern is another example of DC's inability to allow its loftiest characters truly bloom into the epic adventures they deserve (just look at Superman Returns for another recent example). It has a very checkered history of success, with its best recent films (the rebooted Batman series; Constantine, and even the flawed if incredibly ambitious Watchmen) being based mainly on its Vertigo line, or in its animated features. DC, as opposed to Marvel, is and has always been in the nature of creating gods, beings from other worlds with incredible super powers. Green Lantern's main flaws, again, is in failing to trust its own strengths, its own mythology, and in assuming the audience wouldn't want to care about anything set in space. The set pieces seem sadly sedate (Hal embraces his role as Green Lantern following a lackluster helicopter near-crash), except, of course, when set in space (Hal's training on Oa is probably the best part of the whole film, but even then it feels like a few scenes were cut for brevity's sake, since Hal quits the Corps after only about a day of training).

A sequel is already greenlit, and hopefully this time around, the filmmakers will allow Green Lantern to truly soar to the heights only hinted at here. This is an epic, grand, cosmic world with an immense scale...surely, audiences would rather see Hal and Sinestro duking it out in deep space, rather than some brown cloud floating in and gobbling up nameless people running around in a city. Despite its flaws, I'm hoping that since all the mythology introduction is out of the way and the character established, we can move on to the grander scales. If Thor (a cosmic/science fiction/action/comic book/fantasy film) could be entertaining, despite featuring a character few non-comic fans can even mention, then there's no reason why a Green Lantern sequel has to suck. And for God's sake, cut out the post-converted 3D...it's distracting. Some scenes were slightly out-of-focus, or suffered from a ghosting of the images on screen. And, ultimately, it didn't add anything to the film (aside from another $5 to the ticket price).

Serenity

Serenity (2005) by Joss Whedon

I'm reviewing this film because I got into a debate with a Browncoat over this film. And you know what? You assholes are taking a good thing and blowing it up to proportions that it has no right being. Alright? This is a horrible film. Period. It fails as a film. Taken apart from the rest of the series (I admit I wasn't a fan until recently, but even now, despite that changing, I can still say this is a bad fucking movie), it doesn't hold up its own weight, much less that of an aborted television series that should have gotten another chance. Look, I'm a Star Trek fan, and I'm a James Bond fan; but even I can admit that more than half the Star Trek movies (including all of the Next Generation films) are Godawful, and that there are sadly more Moonrakers than From Russia With Loves when it comes to Bond. I can love a series more than the sum of its parts, and can acknowledge that even some of the films I do like are just as bad and dumb as you think, and will happily agree with you (the reboot of Star Trek, while enjoyable, is a fucking mess plot-wise, but still watchable and fun) just as I can like and appreciate FireFly while watching Serenity and thinking, "What a smelly piece of shit".
The opening scene shifts perspectives several times, from an omniscient, passive point-of-view, to becoming somewhat of a classroom-like overview, to changing its focus onto River (the equally bizarrely-named Summer Glau). While it was necessary to give new viewers an overview (I had only seen a vaguely admired the first 2 episodes when I first saw this film), the shifting point-of-view also makes it difficult for those same viewers to know who is doing what and why. The long-takes in Serenity itself introduced each character individually, but, again, due to the time constraints, they were played slightly more broadly than on the show, and as such, it did little justice to the characters themselves, who I now appreciate and enjoy, nor to the actors, who'd spent so much time developing their characters into individuals. Hell, even two of the characters are killed for what seems to be arbitrary reasons.
Chiwetel Ejiofor, what the fuck are you doing in this movie? Why are you hamming it up? And why does the set of your Alliance vessel look like something out of Space Mutiny? Where is the rest of your massive vessel? We only ever see about 3 rooms. As a villain, he was much too goofy and over-the-top to truly be terrifying and formidable, and the protracted fights (between him and Mal; River and pretty much everyone else in the movie) paradoxically stop the film cold. While the cinematography would have been impressive on the small screen, again, in a movie theater, it feels sadly confined.
I can imagine that the prospect of finishing an unfinished television series on a budget less than half of what typical sci-fi actioners traditionally go for (and what Universal was willing to supply), by a first-time feature film director who initially started with a script that was over 3 hours long...well, the final product feels rushed, confined, and oddly anticlimactic. If this film had been a television special, or mini-series or made-for-TV film, I would not have been so vehement. But the production design, music, and effects work are what killed the film for me, simply because the scale did not translate to "science fiction action Western feature film event!" This was SciFi Channel's The Shining remake: as dull, boring, and bereft of action that the budget would allow. They killed Book and Wash, and I didn't care (and, well, the characters didn't seem to care either. Hell, when Spock died, that added a heavy weight to the entire Star Trek series that needed another film to undo.) Here, two of the main characters die and there was no real time to mourn or move on, and their loss wasn't really felt after the film ended. I walked into the theater hoping to see what the big deal with the series was, and walked out not wanting to have anything to do with it.
Look, if you're going to kill off one of the main characters, it needs to mean something. Spock died to save every other character we love. Vader died to save Luke and, ultimately, redeem himself. Hell, even when the Terminator died in Terminator 2, it was after he'd developed as a character and made a fundamental change and made the audience root for him. Wash and Book died...okay. Did they make a personal change or sacrifice? No, Wash just crashed the ship trying to land it, because he did another crazy maneuver the ship wasn't designed to make. Now they have no ship. (Oh man! Now the stakes are raised! We don't know who'll live or who'll die!!!...*after the film*...Oh, nope. No, they just had nothing to do anymore. They weren't intrinsic to the plot).
And finally: why show the Reavers? The one thing that stuck with me in the show was the concept of the Reavers, and how fucking insane they are. Yet when they are (for whatever reason) revealed? They're like fucking Native American zombies. And their backstory sadly makes them less interesting (again, having unexplained evil threaten characters is so much more interesting: that's the difference between Silence Of The Lambs and Hannibal Rising; or Batman and The Dark Knight: getting to know the history of embodiments of evil makes them relative, and thus removes the veneer of danger and mystery they have). For an expansive universe that seemed to stretch out so much, with such an interesting rich fictional history on the series, the film pares everything down to a bite-sized chunk, where everything intertwines and is woven together in a neat package. The mess that was the gritty world of the series is replaced with low-budget facsimiles of sprawling sets and city-scapes, and an epic space battle that, sadly, I'd played back in the day during Colony Wars (where's the movie for that?!)

Serenity fails as a film. Period. It goes for the scope that it can't handle, and instead implodes into something much more confined and exclusive than it wanted to be. If it hoped to attract new fans...well, I doubt it did. I was indifferent to FireFly before I'd seen Serenity, but after Serenity, I wondered what the big fucking deal was and wanted nothing to do with either. I couldn't remember anything about the movie, and it took me looking up IMDB, wikiPedia, and watching the damn thing on YouTube to remember anything about the film aside from the main characters, Wash getting killed (I forgot Book dies too!), and the failure of showing the Reavers. If I walk out of a movie theater and forget what it was that I'd watched...guess what? That movie failed, even to entertain. It was a missed opportunity that I can't blame on Joss Whedon, who did everything he could for the show and the film, or the cast, who seemed to enjoy revisiting the characters one last time. But if this was to be a send-off, then make it Star Trek 6: The Undiscovered Country, not fucking Star Wars Episode III.

Sucker Punch

Sucker Punch (2011) - Zack Snyder

I love Sucker Punch the way Touchy the reformed Molesto-Clown loves summer vacation at an all-boys' Catholic elementary school (or all-girls' school; I'm not going to discriminate): he loves it, but he knows he shouldn't, and secretly there's a pang of shame...but that sadly won't stop him. NOTHING CAN STOP HIM. HE IS ALWAYS WITH YOU. HE EATS YOUR SMILES. YOUR FROWNS AND SCREAMS BRING HIM CLOSER....(*cough*) Sorry about that...

I'm seriously torn with this film, and it boils down to two things: the movie is awesome visually, very much an exercise in style; however, it is cheap exploitation wrapped up in a slightly-heavy-handed preachy "grrl power" message that comes off as slightly trite. However...it's so visually beautiful and full of great moments that I still like it. It's...so...difficult having an opinion about something that is paradoxical...
Or is it?
Emily Browning stars as Baby Doll, a 20-year-old girl institutionalized by her abusive stepfather (Gerard Plunkett) looking to get a hold of her inheritance after her mother dies. Once institutionalized, her papers are forged by the corrupt lead orderly Blue Jones (Oscar Isaacs) in order to get her admitted for a lobotomy. Baby Doll conjures up an invented reality wherein she and the other patients of the institution are actually imprisoned in a brothel, and within this reality she conjures up a plan for escape, utilizing the help of Sweet Pea (Abbie Cornish), Rocket (Jena Malone), Blondie (Vanessa Hudgens) and Amber (Emily Cheung). Within this imagined reality, Baby Doll conjures yet another alternate reality, wherein the quests to acquire the tools of their escape are visualized as literal battles in strange, alien lands. The film keeps this charade up rather well, until abandoning it at the end of the second act, which is something I wish hadn't happened. Even though the audience knows how the ending is going to play out (and happily forgets the set-up until the last 5 minutes of the film), we're still excited to see how Baby Doll is going to get out of the institution (or brothel, as it's that reality that's really at play in the film, and not the institution part).
This is a case of a fantasy within a fantasy (within a fantasy: the film itself opens up on a stage, whereupon the events of the opening scene of the film play out.) In fact, nothing about this film is real, and, perhaps, nothing in it matters because it never really happened (even in the context of the film's reality: again, the film begins on a stage. It's almost as if everyone and everything in the film knows it's inconsequential and they're just joyfully eschewing any sort of pretense otherwise). That being said, it was still a blast to watch the escalating set-pieces (my favorite being the steampunk WWI trench battle scene replete with bunny-faced mech suit. Wow...that is a sentence that describes something I can watch...), and it's truly during these sequences that the film flourishes. In fact, if the film had been a series of vignettes with the main characters just hopping from reality to reality and fighting hordes after hordes of monsters...I would not have complained. Sort of a live-action Heavy Metal...)
Speaking of which...
I'm not entirely sure how to address the exploitation of the girls in this film. I say "girls" and not "women" because they're designed to look much much younger than they are (Baby Doll is 20, but she looks about 11), and despite that, they're still very much invested in how sexy they can appear while still kicking ass. I take this to be more an attempt to facilitate the male fantasy of what we wish ass-kicking women looked and acted like (not to say that Ellen Ripley or Emma Peel or Honey Rider or Bonnie Parker or Beatrix Kiddo don't have their place in the list of badass women...), a direct result of the influx and influence of comic books in our modern film culture. At the same time though, while the girls are sexualized in their attire, they're not sexualized entirely in their attitudes: they use the prospect of sex (rather than the act itself) to influence others and achieve their goals, and the one aspect of the film that should be the most vividly sexual prospect, the one thing that stops every character in their tracks and in fact propels the plot (and perpetuates the fantasies), is in fact never seen: Baby Doll's dance. We can only imagine what it is based on the reactions of everyone else in the film...but that's all we can do: imagine it. After watching a bunny-face mechsuit trample steampunk Germans, or a dragons chase down a prop-driven bomber, or a lone girl take on and defeat 3 giant stone samurai, there shouldn't be much else to imagine. And it would be weird for me to even point out the sexism and exploitative nature of the film, because that might be the point: all of Baby Doll's fantasies involve images of exploited girls...even the ones where they're the heroes and kicking fantastic ass. Although this might be just the male mind imagining what an exploited girl might imagine herself imagining? Perhaps. Or maybe it's just good old fashioned exploitation? An elaborate exploitation film given a massive budget and special effects and great production design and gussied up as a fantasy film, but actually slightly more tasteful than the exploitative films of the 1970's because...well...no women get raped? And all the violence is imagined?
Maybe the film just relishes being exploitative because, well, fuck it, let's not tiptoe around pleasing everyone nowadays, let's not be polite and inoffensive and safe. Maybe Joe Wright is correct in calling this film "bullshit" and "exploitation disguised as empowerment"....it's still a damn good ride, as good a damn ride as his Hanna was, but without the goofy plot point (still not revealing what it is in Hanna). To me, this is a much more tame version of the resurgence of the exploitative thriller genre, much as Death Proof and Kill Bill were. And you know what? I'm okay with that. The film itself acknowledges the fact that it is a fantasy, and if we, the audience, can't remember that when the movie starts off onstage, then we shouldn't be going to the movies should we?
Anyway...
The production design is beautiful on this film, and editor William Hoy and cinematographer Larry Fong create beautiful counterpoints to each other. The Zach-Snyder-slo-mo action is in full effect here, but here it seems oddly necessary (unlike in Watchmen, where it seriously should have been avoided at all costs): revving the action as he does works not to make it more exciting, but to make it more fantastic. However, there were a few shots where this effect created some seriously stunning images, such as Baby Doll performing a backflip in the air as flames explode in the background; or the sword-cam (if you see the movie, you'll know what I mean). Snyder stages the action with a bit more clarity this time around (aside from the Jupiter train heist), and Tyler Bates' and Marius de Vries' score, while understated for most of the film, compliments the set pieces perfectly (true, most of the music cues are covers of pop songs, but they're still utilized damned well...the use "Tomorrow Never Knows" during the train heist added the aural kick to the visual one.) This is very much an art department movie...which, again is fine, so long as the final result is as beautiful as this.
One can almost count down all the references to pop culture that the film plays with and employs: zombies? Check. Steampunk? Check. Anime? Check? Dragons/fantasy? Check. Science fiction? Check. The film is a complete hodgepodge of all the visually tasty goodness that makes pop culture exciting and refreshing. Snyder creates something out of the mishmash of disparate parts, something visually exciting to look at, and at least flirting with an interesting subtext (although I do wish Tarantino would utilize this ability more often: enough with the movie mix-tapes, and let's get back to telling an interesting story. Give us another Jackie Brown! Okay...well, give me another one...)
The film does have its flaws. Again, the most glaring is the exploitation, but if you can get past that, then the next is the makeup. I know it's supposed to look gaudy and staged...but still Carla Gugino's "mole" was too fucking distracting, and her accent unbearable. And it might seem odd for me to say this after praising it two paragraphs ago, but the use of "Sweet Dreams" for the opening scene seemed to be much too obvious (although it wasn't as horrible as Snyder's use of "Hallelujah" in Watchmen...wow. That was horrible). I know Snyder isn't known for his subtlety, but still...the last act abandons the pretense of the previous two, forgoing with the "action fantasy" aspect of Baby Doll's fantasy, and instead just staying in the "stuck in a brothel" fantasy. After going all-out for so long, I wish it would have stayed in that realm for just a bit longer. And, finally...Jon Hamm's character. I won't reveal what he does, but at the end, he displays (and then talks about, excessively) a bit of doubt that he'd had. He does a pretty important job in the film, and apparently his character had been doing this job for a while, and had been wondering why he had been called so often. But yet, he just continues with what he does, and doesn't talk about any doubt or worries he'd been having until it's much too late. Also, the fucking voice-over that bookends the film. Get rid of it, just walk out of the theater after the last shot, before it starts up. Talk about heavy-handed.
You know, now that I think of it, I think this truly is meant to be an empowering "grrl power" sort of film...it just got developed by a director who cannot do (and seems incapable of doing) subtlety. My biggest qualm with Watchmen was its overacting (for the most part) and the rote characterizations (especially for Rorschach). That film glorified the violence where the source material didn't...it wasn't making the characters or violence (or even the plot) over-the-top or theatrical or exciting. It just was. Like real life, the characters and situations just occurred and that was that: it was complex and messy. The film seemed to telegraph how the audience was to respond and react (remember when Rorschach killed his first victim? Read the graphic novel to see how much more creepy and complex a character he should have been). And 300...well, I hate that movie. Here, the film is honestly trying to empower its characters, but it does so with the wit and sophistication of a 12-year-old boy. Again, I'm okay with that, knowing that that's just the sort of director that Snyder is. His heart is in the right place, and he put on a great show, but at the end of the day, it's just pretty girls doing kick-ass things to an impressive soundtrack and visuals. He just doesn't seem to know how to be nuanced, or how to create any subtlety at all. Maybe that's why that awful voice over is there.

It was a good show, it's ABOUT TIME Jena Malone shows up on the radar again, and I, for the life of me, want a mech suit. I just hope Snyder manages to bring something much more subdued to The Man Of Steel...if I go see it, that is. I'm kind of done with the Superman origin onscreen...and I'm WELL beyond being done with Zod. Man.

Inception

Inception, (2010) - Christopher Nolan

Just look at that fucking trailer...
Alright, it's about time I review this sucker...

Inception is not that confusing of a movie. I start my review thus, as I feel that the most resounding expression I hear from those to have seen it is "It's so confusing!". I don't think it is, but perhaps that's a result of my having weaned myself on the non-linear timeline films, such as Rashomon, Christopher Nolan's own Memento, and all of Quentin Tarantino. And, no, Inception has no instance of a skewed timeline to be confusing in that regard, but in a narrative sense it seems just as dense as those films, if just more emotionally distant and cold, and considerably more self-contained. Is it a good movie though? Yes. It is undeniably good, and is one of the most entertaining big-budget movies this year, and possibly the best blockbuster of the summer (though not as fun as Scott Pilgrim or The Expendables).

However, that being said, it's fairly straight-forward, and all the talk of "It's so confusing!", or "I was lost the whole time", I just can't understand. Sure, the physics and reality of the film is heightened, but the whole thing is a heist film in retro science-fiction clothes, with a bit of character-driven angst really driving the story forward. The characters explain the logic behind the "kicks", and the levels of the dream state, and why limbo is such a horrible place to get stuck (it appears that you get old and then go insane). Even the famous final shot of the film is pretty straightforward: who cares if the totem falls or not? The key point is that Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio) learned to change and face his fears; even if it is all a dream, it doesn't matter because the character remains changed regardless. And all this talk of revisiting the film to "find clues" as to whether it is a dream or not is nonsense...the film ends. Simple as that. There isn't much else to explore. What's in the film is in the film, and there isn't anything else to look at.

Alright, so in the story, Cobb and Arthur (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) are corporate spies that use a stolen military dream-sharing device to infiltrate and steal corporate secrets from targets. This is called extraction. After botching a job on the venerable Saito (Ken Watanabe), Saito propositions them to instead plant an idea in the mind of a business rival, Robert Fischer (Cillian Murphy), who is poised to inherit his late father's energy conglomerate. The idea needing to be planted is that Fischer needs to break up his family's company, lest there be a monopoly. Cobb enlists the aid of the bright "architect" Ariadne (the ever-reliable Ellen Page), chemist Yusuf (the charismatic Daleep Rao), and con-artist/master-of-disguise Eames (my man-crush Tom Hardy). Saito eventually gets dragged in as well, in order to protect his investment and make sure that the job gets done. What results is crazy zero-gravity action, and bunch of shootouts and the literalism of dreams made apparent.

A lot has been made of the symbolism apparent in this film (hell, Devin Faraci commented how each character of the film represents a different faction of film-making...and I agree with that representation to a point); but at its core, the film really is about Cobb coming to terms with the suicide of his wife, Mal (Marion Cottilard), and relieving himself of the guilt he's felt for years (a very well-deserved guilt, come to think of it). The driving point for the film is one character's emotion; the core of a big-budget science fiction action film is a character's emotions. That's pretty unique stuff, and also pretty thrilling. The climax of the film comes not when Cobb and Ariadne find Fischer and ride the kicks up through each layer of the different dream levels (although it is exciting visually); the climax comes when Cobb learns to let go of the memory of Mal, and to accept her loss.

On a technical level, the film is gorgeous. The score by Hans Zimmer is bombastic and iconic (although lacking in the blowhorn department); Wally Pfister outdoes himself yet again with his beautifully precise compositions; and Mr. Nolan himself finally manages to direct an action scene that isn't confusing as hell (well, it's confusing, but in a good way; you know which one I'm talking about). This film is a hodgepodge of other films, celebrating the creation of film as art and returning the film-going experience as the thing it always should be: an event. The retro costume design evokes memories of other films, such as To Catch A Thief or North By Northwest, classic, debonair thrillers that had a class and style all their own; the Morocco chase evokes just enough of Casablanca and Raider Of The Lost Ark to feel familiar, but not so much as to feel contrived; the mountain-based climax felt familiar enough due to the countless iterations in the James Bond films (right down to the literally faceless and expendable henchmen; hell, the avalanche is right out of On Her Majesty's Secret Service, although that film used an avalanche as a means of pushing the plot, rather than purely as a set-piece); and, of course, the zero-gravity sequence (my favorite in the entire film) that is as much an homage to Stanley Kubrick as one could hope. The beauty of these sequences is the practicality of each: there is no computer rendering hackneyed images of the actors, only the actors themselves going through the danger, and that in turn makes it a much more exciting prospect to watch. Cinema, at least for the duration of this film, has become a spectator sport once again: the audience is thrilled and excited, and finally there is something worth going to the theater to see.

While not as obsessed with the film as others might be, I appreciate it for its ability to return film to the event showcase it should remain (going to a theater should be an event, I could care who you are). And, yeah, the film has its flaws (why doesn't Cobb just have his children live with him in Europe instead of risk going to America? What happens to that company that was chasing Cobb throughout Morocco? They just sorta disappeared after the chase...), and, yeah, it might have been based on a Donald Duck comic book, but it is thrilling entertainment, an exciting breath of fresh air during a summer that was bogged down with shit (Y ear One) and over-produced crap (Iron Man 2). The fact that Warner Bros. could back a high-concept piece like this is inspiring, and the audience response (in the tune of at least $700 million worldwide) is also a great sign. This could be considered a classic of the genre in a few years, but it would no doubt have any less of an impact for first-time viewers. Hell, here I am, nearly a year later, and getting thrilled just thinking about the zero-g fight. Now that's staying power.

World's Greatest Dad

World's Greatest Dad (2009), Bobcat Goldthwait

I'm surprised at this movie. Everything about it says it shouldn't work at all, and yet, somehow it does. This is, so far as I know, Bobcat's first job writing/directing, and aside from a few poor performances, he does a decent job. His ethos of "fuck style, let's just shoot it with the most basic set-ups possible" works. There isn't much he needs to do, either, to accentuate just how fucked up this film is (in a good way). This is one of the blackest comedies I've come across since Lolita (or quite possibly Elephant. No one else laughed at that? That was just me? Huh.) and I love this film for that reason.
The film stars Robin Williams as Lance Clayton, a failed novelist who has since learned to settle in mediocrity. He can't get his works published, his job teaching poetry at the local high school is under-attended and thus in line to be canceled, his art-teacher girlfriend Claire (Alexie Gilmore) is a cocktease and indifferent to his needs (and possibly cheating on him, but definitely stringing him along), and his much more charismatic creative writing teacher coworker, Mike (Henry Simmons), has been published in the New Yorker on his first attempt. On top of all that, his son Kyle (Daryl Sabara) is an unlikeable, perverted douchebag and treats Lance like shit for no reason (although I guess "being a teenager" is reason enough), and has a total of one friend, Andrew (Evan Martin). Attempts to bond with his son fail, but he just keeps on trying, and Lance keeps up with the insufferable way Claire treats him due to genuine feeling for her. However, through a freak accident, Lance loses his son, and in order to cover up the cause (it's...well, it's masturbation related), Lance concocts an elaborate lie that exposes the "real" Kyle. As a result, everyone in the school relates to (and, ultimately, horrendously dishonors) Kyle. Lance rides this new-found exposure and publicity, making his son much more likable than he ever was in real life, but at grave costs of his own.
Again, this is a pitch-black film, and Williams sells it. He is a veritable revelation here, as I couldn't imagine him acting in such a subdued, sedate way (or "acting" at all! It's amazing!) He is absolutely believable as the man who has given up on being any success in his life, and he wears that sense of lost potential so well, leaving it etched in every line of his face. The scene when he discovers Kyle in his room is heartbreaking, and his attempts to clean up after his son, and the revelation that his son really was a perverted, unlikeable douchebag, points at so much disappointment it's incredible. His is the most solid acting job in the film (Kyle is played as too actively an asshole; Claire's motivations behind some of her expressions are a bit unclear---especially during the dinner scene between her and Kyle and Lance; and most of the actors playing the schoolmates come across as either flat archetypes, or as very obviously acting---especially whoever played the goth girl). However, that being said, I was still engaged in the film, completely engrossed and eager to find out just how shady a person Lance could become, and just how far he could take his lie. A film this bleak and heartless is so contradictorily refreshing that it's incredible.
Throughout this film, it was easy for me to visualize any person in real life playing off an unspeakable tragedy as this. This scenario seems to be the very thing that reality television is based on: success from someone else's tragedy. The fact that it's Lance feeding off the death of his own son makes it that much worse, but hardly that less unlikely. Bobcat's script explores the loss of creativity, family, love, and success, while being about a collective obsession with tragedy (which is itself it's own brand of tragedy). What would anyone do to be successful? And how does one measure that success?
I have an incredible amount of respect for Bobcat Goldthwait now (again, this is his first writing/directing gig), and I hope he follows this up with something equally gut-punching. Kudos to Richard Kelly for producing this as well. And God bless Robin Williams; I have a new-found respect for him. This is to him what A Guide To Recognizing Your Saints is to Shia LaBeouf: no matter what they get involved with in the future, I can never hate them simply because they've made these films. That being said, Williams needs to keep his clothes on in his next film. Like...totally on.

EDIT 4/17/11: this is NOT Bobcat's first directorial effort. Merely the first one I've seen. I guess 5 minutes on IMDB would have alleviated that, but what are you going to do?

Hanna

Hanna, 2011 - Joe Wright

This is a great movie, so unlike the other Wright-directed picture I'd seen, Pride And Prejudice (which I admit I love), that it's surprising that it's from the same director. I watched it in a packed theater (which I think is great for a film such as this), and must say that despite this being the first film I'd seen since Tron:Legacy (and we know how much I enjoy that film), this is one of my favorite films of 2011 already. So often I'd felt as if I were watching a gritty '60's spy thriller, like The Ipcress File, or any of the Harry Palmer films, or even The Spy Who Came In From The Cold. Ir felt so much like a Cold War thriller that it was exciting (and not in a retro, meta way). This isn't a spy film comprised of other spy films, this is its own entity, and such a beautiful combination of action, story, and style that it really is inspiring for the state of modern action films.

The story starts off near the Arctic Circle, somewhere in northern Russia, where the titular character, Hanna (played perfectly by Saiorse Ronan), an other-worldly-looking blonde 16-year-old girl, has been trained by her father, Erik Heller (Eric Bana...why doesn't he get more action leading-man roles? Hulk, as despised as it is, still showed him being amazing at action), a former CIA agent who has been put to ground and is in hiding. They live together, exclusively, and he has trained her in foreign languages (including Arabic, German, French, Italian, and Spanish...at least that's what we hear), physical combat, how to stay aware even in sleep, and how to live in the wold and maneuver on her own. The object of her training is to stay one step ahead of their CIA handler, the icy-cool Marissa Weigler (Cate Blanchett, with a Southern twang), evade her assassins, and eventually kill her as well. To do that, Erik abandons his daughter, allowing her to to be captured in hopes of reuniting with her in Germany.

With the exception of one plot point (which I won't mention, but when you hear of it you might realize that the movie would have been much more plausible without it), the film is perfect. The Chemical Brothers' score (an energetic, electri-pop) feels more like a complete album of theirs rather than a film score, and with each change in location, Hanna experiences more and more of the emotions that she'd been forced to abandon in her training to become a perfect killing machine. She befriends Sophie (Jessica Barden), who is traveling through Morocco and Spain with her hippy parents and younger brother, and who eventually help her get close enough to Erik to meet up with him in Germany.

However, their friendship is not one grown out of contrivance or for the sake of the plot; here Hanna meets someone her own age, who gets her to experience the first twang of emotion outside of devotion to her father, and whose fate is determined on what she (Hanna) can do. The stakes of the film are determined by how involved Hanna becomes with this traveling family, and that adds gravitas to the action. Each action beat is determined by Hanna's emotions, and by the emotions of the secondary characters (especially Sophie's younger brother, and, in an odd way, Weigler herself). Even the motivations of the Weigler's cronies---the sadistic Isaacs (played in a surprisingly, deliciously perverse way by In The Loop's Tom Hollander)---are driven by some semblance of distorted emotion. Emotions drive this entire film, and that's something that at least feels new coming from an espionage yarn.

That's not to say that the action isn't up to snuff either. Hanna's breakout from a CIA safe-house is incredibly exciting, and cut incredibly well (no montage-style fight scenes, or MTV-style cutting here! No Bourne-style shaky cam! And fuck hand-held! I love it!), bolstered by, once again, the Chemical Brothers' bombastic and energetic score. The highlight of the film is another Joe Wright trademark: a single-take long shot; here, though, we follow Erik Heller as he leaves an airport, gets followed first by one agent, then another, as he makes his way to a metro station, before coming up against no less than 6 agents. In the same shot, he takes them all down swiftly, before walking off. It's beautiful: a single-take tracking shot of a fight scene featuring the protagonist against multiple assailants, showcasing the actor's fighting ability, and shot clearly enough to know what the fuck is going on and who is hitting who. Why is this a rarity in action films? Why should I praise the fact that I can see what the hell is going on?! It should be common sense, especially if it's done as deftly as it is here!

I love this film, not just for the action, or the bad-assness of Hanna herself: this is a smart, thrilling, action-packed espionage fairy tale (yeah...a fairy tale. You'll see what I mean) that is brimming with emotion and subtext (which I would go into more, but it would ruin one of the seminal emotional scenes in the film). With the exception of two minor quibbles (the aforementioned plot point, and the ending, which my friend anticipated almost beat-for-beat), this is a perfect film, and great thriller, and one of the great, smart modern espionage films. If only the modern Bond films were this good...

Also, I couldn't get Isaacs' motif, the one he whistles throughout his appearances, out of my head for days. Now that it's gone, I kind of miss it...

True Grit (2010)

True Grit (2010) by the Coen Brothers

This is my favorite "serious" film from 2010. Hands down. Practically everything about this film is absolutely perfect, and it couldn't possibly get too much praise. After the misstep that was Burn After Reading (an anarchic, misanthropic mess that I absolutely hate with a passion), Joel and Ethan Coen return to the American West, the setting of some of their more exciting and interesting works. Like their last Western, the contemporary, apocalyptic No Country For Old Men, the Coens adapted a novel (the misanthropic Cormac McCarthy wrote the aforementioned novel). Here, the Coens work not so much as to remake the 1969 Henry Hathaway-directed John Wayne vehicle (which garnered him his only Oscar) as to retell the novel by Charles Portis, which veers from scene to scene (and almost from line to line) into the realms of comedy, tragedy, and action.
The film starts with the murder of the father of protagonist Mattie Ross (Hailee Steinfeld) by the dim-witted Tom Chaney (Josh Brolin). Jumping several years later, Mattie has grown into a strong-willed, quick-witted young woman determined to avenge her father's murder. To do so, she seeks out US Marshall Reuben "Rooster" Cogburn (Jeff Bridges, quite possibly outdoing John Wayne in his iconic role), a tough-as-nails one-eyed lawman not afraid to get his hands dirty, a man she describes as "having true grit". In true Coen fashion, she first solicits his skills while he's inside an outhouse. Begrudgingly, she convinces him to take up her cause, eventually accompanying him on his trek, along with the uptight, well-spoken LaBeouf (Matt Damon) an Army Ranger also on Chaney's trail, along with the gang in which Chaney's a member, Lucky Ned Pepper's gang.
The language of this iteration feels much closer to being out of a novel, unlike the original film, which felt considerably like a staged reading (different acting and directing styles). The romanticized notion of the American West has likewise been stripped away, and now what is presented is something at once alien and familiar, cold and yet homely. The characters understand the stakes one needs to take to survive in the wilderness, and the Coens neither romanticize nor gloss over what it takes to survive. The West is the West, both beautiful and unnerving. A vacuum of civilization with flourishes of animated life (just around the corner, in the middle of a mountain pass, one can find a doctor. In the middle of a forest the characters encounter what is only credited as the "Bear Man").
The utter futility of a civilized life is explored here, as Mattie eventually does encounter Chaney, and yet, when she is captured by Lucky Ned (Barry Pepper), is treated with an outdated, genteel sort of respect. It's quaint, the notion of bad guys still having enough morals to not mistreat a 16-year-old girl, and that's a shame. The notion of virtuous villains, and codes of conduct between enemies, during a period of life that was comparatively much more dangerous than any of us reading this would ever have to face, should not be confined to motion pictures. The futility of maintaining a proper decorum during trying times is one of the constant themes of this film.
The banality of human existence, too, seems one of the core points of exploration. For me, the most beautiful scene in the film is a sequence in which Rooster rushes to bring Mattie to a doctor. He runs the horse upon which they're riding to the ground, to the point it collapses in exhaustion, shoots it, and continues on foot, carrying her for miles in the middle of the night, in the middle of the desert. The sequence is shot in the exact same way: Rooster carrying Mattie is shot with the exact same angles in which the horse carrying Rooster is shot. This is the American West; life is a means of getting from one place to the other, nothing more. A man is as replaceable a commodity as a horse is.
As an adventure yarn, this is a great film. As mentioned,the film is fun and funny in equal turns, rich in its language, and gorgeously shot (by the ever amazing Roger Deakins), this is one of the better films of 2010, one of my favorites of the year (on the list with films like Scott Pilgrim, The Expendables, and Kick-Ass, so it's pretty eclectic). This might just also be my favorite modern Coens' film, a perfect companion piece to No Country For Old Men, and visual proof that an adaptation of Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian is entirely possible to complete faithfully.

Tron: Legacy

Tron: Legacy (2010) Joseph Kosinski

I fucking hate this movie. Alright, so I never saw the original Tron, Disney's 1982 psuedo-experimental sci-fi film starring Jeff Bridges, but I understand enough of the plot to appreciate it for its stylistic approach: Jeff Bridges' Kevin Flynn gets sucked into a computer program he's created, and must survive long enough to find a way to escape. The film was the first to make extensive use of computer effects and is largely memorable for that (the effects which were used for the Disc Games: competitions where two people must fight for survival in a variety of lethal games, including the ever-popular light-cycle race), and for its visual style (characters are shot in video, with their faces filmed in black-and-white film. Looks great...but apparently has a plodding, slow-as-molasses plot and is revered as a cult classic merely for the sense of nostalgia it imparts. But it looks like this:



However, Disney still has yet to make it available for purchase. After this sequel, I can imagine why.

I had hope that knowing nothing about the previous film would make me impartial, and I had hoped that this film would also fill in all the blanks that I would inevitably have. The film does answer some questions, but not in any way that is exciting; the characters talk about the events in the previous film, and occasionally there is a flashback. But a lot of the time the characters just talk. They just fucking talk. They sit and talk. Like it was the fucking Star Wars prequels they sit down and talk.

I'll actually talk about the stuff I like first. This movie showcases Daft Punk and it really is their movie (even throwing them in for a cameo); if it weren't for their incredible score, I would have completely hated the film. The score was hypnotic, and almost constantly played in the background, and for that reason alone I found something to enjoy. Second, I also admired the production design of the Grid (the world of Tron): the cold, mechanical whites, blacks, oranges and blues were beautiful, and in 3D, really were an impressive sight (although it got a bit tired near the third act). The updating of the Games (3-dimensional multi-level light-cycle races; anti-gravity disc combat) were fun and exciting to watch. Um...Olivia Wilde was attractive...I guess? Now, on to all the stuff that made this film an agonizing ordeal. First off: what I can only jokingly call the plot.

The film opens with Sam Flynn (Garrett Hedlund)---the 27-year-old son of the long-lost Encom founder and computer wizard Kevin Flynn---breaking into Encom headquarters and leaking a copy of its latest operating program (which, the corporate head explains, was designed with flaws purposely built in). He gets cornered by security, and, right when he is about to be captured, jumps off the roof and parachutes to safety, and then drives off to his home (which happens to be a renovated storage container...it actually looked pretty cozy). Right off the bat, I had problems with this scene. The Encom executives react to the leaking of the software as if it would legitimately destroy their very existence; movies have yet to truly grasp the fact that leaking software (even operating software) really doesn't affect profit margin for computer companies, at least not in a crushingly catastrophic way. It happens literally every day. I'll let that one slide though, since I feel that most movie writers are still playing catch-up with the increasing rate of technological evolution. So, that being said, the scene also establishes Sam as being reckless, brash, and carrying a chip on his shoulder. That also wouldn't be a problem, except that is all he is. There is no more development to his character after this opening scene: he is established as an Archetype. You know, the reluctant hero! Joseph Campbell stuff! (WRITER: "You know, reckless! Like, he rides a motorcycle, and is angry with authority and fucks stuff up just because! An adrenaline junkie!" PRODUCER: "But...who is he? You're just saying adjectives, but not really telling me who this person is as a person." WRITER: "....a who?") This film has no less than FOUR credited writers, and has had 28 years to develop a story with relateable, interesting characters (fuck, I'm not looking for Sam Lowman or Charles Foster Kane...fucking R2D2 is more interesting than anyone in this film. At least give me a mobile, whistling garbage can), instead the main character is Reluctant Hero Version 2.

Now, through a series of events, Sam gets summoned to his father's abandoned Arcade, where the Tron game resides. He activates his father's old computer, and gets sucked into the Grid. Once there, he gets captured by a security program, and thrown into the Disc War games, where he must fight for survival. He undergoes the hand-to-hand disc game, and the multi-level light cycle race. These were easily the best scenes of the entire film. The film's villain, CLU (also played by Jeff Bridges, horribly rendered to look 28 years younger) is made aware of Sam's capture, and personally tries his hand at trying to kill him during the light cycle race after Rinzler (the star performer in the Disc War games) fails to do him in.

Then, Sam is saved by Quorra (Olivia Wilde), and eventually brought to Kevin Flynn, who is living in the outskirts of the Grid (off the grid. Clever.), apparently meditating or some shit for nearly 30 years. Through a series of events so boring I can't even really describe them because it's such a jumbled mess I can't remember what scenes happened in what order, Kevin gets his identity disc stolen, and this is a big deal because with the identity disc, CLU can leave the Grid and enter the real world, along with an army of programs designed to...do...stuff? Also, Quorra is a program who may or may not aid mankind somehow. Then the movie ends. Oh, and at some point Rinzler switches allegiances and helps the Flynns after a change of heart that is never-the-fuck explained.

Okay, so that's the story. I gave it away, and I don't give a shit. There's a lot there that doesn't make any sense. First off, CLU is horribly rendered, and it wouldn't be a problem (or so creepy in an uncanny valley sort of way) if the film didn't go out of its way to place him in the most brightly-lit scenes, thus accentuating how dead-eyed and fucking creepy he is (which may be the point? Since CLU is an un-aging program based on Kevin Flynn's younger self? And he should look like a program? Even though all the other programs---essentially everyone else in the movie---are played by normal human beings?) Anyway, the creepy-eyed CLU needs to find Kevin, and to do this he sucks Sam into the Grid in the hopes that Sam's appearance will cause Kevin to reveal himself. That makes sense...but then CLU actively tries to knowingly kill Sam during the Disc War games. In fact, it is literally the first thing he does, literally going out of his way to do so. CLU even explains how important both Kevin AND Sam are, to their faces...so why the fuck try to kill them the second they show up? Yeah, it makes for an exciting scene (the best, actually. Too bad they're all within the first 30 minutes of the film), but it doesn't make any fucking sense.

Next up: the ISOs. Isomorphic something-or-others. Essentially, they're living, self-conscious, aware programs that are basically living beings in a purely digital realm. Kevin explains their origins, and then goes on to explain how important they are. I'm paraphrasing, but he says they'll change religion, biology, medicine, etc. Except...we don't really know how. The ISOs don't really do anything, even within the context of the Grid. He just says they'll change the world.

The Grid: is it a city or an entire world? If it's a city, why is it always empty, except for security ships hovering around capturing rogue programs (who are basically just ISOs hunted for extermination)? There is NO ONE in any of the scenes set in the city streets, yet when Sam and Quorra go to see Zuse (an obnoxiously flamboyant Michael Sheen) in his club (club? Right? It was a club?), the place is packed, and when CLU needs to reveal his "army", there are fucking millions of them. From the few scenes I could piece together of the original Tron, the programs were like people, and had foibles and personalities. Here, the few programs we do meet are set up with the most basic of characterizations and show up only as needed by the plot.

What is CLU's intention? I understand that CLU wants to leave the Grid and get into the real world and continue his stated goal of ridding the world of what he sees as imperfections (in essence, wipe out humanity). But once in the real world, he ceases to be a threat. His army is armed with discs and poles. They wouldn't be able to do much damage to anyone out here in the world of guns and knives and nails-in-wooden-boards. And the mechanics of escaping the Grid aren't entirely clear...Sam and Quorra escape by standing on a tiny platform and holding onto each other as they are sucked up into the portal leading to the real world. Would CLU's army have to hold his hand and stand on the tiny platform too? Would they even be able to leave because they're not the fuck real people, but programs (Quorra could leave because she's an ISO and thus, effectively, a living creature)?

TRON. The original Tron was called Tron because it featured a character named Tron, who was apparently a pretty important character in that film. Tron is not in this movie. At all. (Rinzler is apparently Tron...but it is never explicitly stated, merely implied, and I think that's why Rinzler suddenly decides in the middle of a fucking mid-air dogfight to change sides...but I don't know. I'm just the audience member who didn't see the original film because it's not available on DVD or VHS. The characters never go out and say, "Hey! Rinzler is definitely Tron! And remember all that shit Tron did that was a big deal? Man, we need to get him back to our side! That'd be exciting and add some emotional weight to our adventure!...eh, fuck it. Let's do that in part 3.")

I understand and appreciate the subtext of the film: CLU represents the hacker ethos of free information; Sam and Kevin represent privatization and the desire for privacy and an identity that is unique, and how the contradiction of unfettered information and privacy leads to conflict. CLU can't even really be considered a true villain, since he is merely fulfilling the parameters of his programming, and once Kevin leaves the Grid...which is an active choice fueled by the realization that by creating CLU, he'd unleashed an unintentionally aggressive aspect of his personality, one fueled by the quest for all knowledge...and it's only when he and Kevin merge into one being that either of them can be at peace. In an age of an internet where one can literally get any piece of entertainment or knowledge or program right now, this is a pretty topical discussion to throw into a blockbuster film. For approaching that touchy subject, I give the film props. However, the film fails as a film, with too many plot holes and lapses in logic (even by its own standards) to really be purely entertaining. When the action kicks in, the film is delicious to look at, but when it comes to adding weight, pathos, and personality to the characters (or even originality or interest), director Kosinski fails. It's almost as if he can't be bothered, not when there's light cycles and light-sails and Olivia Wilde to look at!

It's a shame, because I went from being indifferent prior to the film's release, to being excited to see it, to being horribly disappointed in it (and actually pissed that it's taken up so much time for me to write this). There was so much that this film had going for it to make it great, and it looked great, and had an amazing score and utilized 3-D extremely well. But it had a shit story that killed all that potential. And that's the real pain of it all. This is another 3-D special effects extravaganza released in December that hopes audiences will be blown away by the effects to not notice that there is nothing at stake for any of the characters.

Look, I can enjoy a shitty movie just for fun (I gave Punisher:War Zone a glowing review, remember?) But that doesn't mean that I should have to shut my mind off completely just for the sake of bright lights and pretty production design. Even shitty movies I enjoy (Punisher: War Zone. Billy Madison. The Musketeer. Live Free Or Die Hard) have stakes and have a plot and have a story that push the characters and forces them to experience some sort of change. There are clear stakes, and there is a logic at play that is upheld throughout the film's runtime. I can get behind a bad movie if there is a story that makes sense, and if it is at least fun. Here, the characters are archetypes, pure and simple (Sam especially. It doesn't help that Garrett Hedlund didn't really do much with what he was given), and the plot doesn't make a lick of sense, and it is unashamed about that fact. The movie is lights and sounds and an incredible score and Jeff Bridges, dead-eyed Jeff Bridges, Olivia Wilde, and Jesus-Michael-Sheen!-What-are-you-doing?

I wanted to get behind this film, but couldn't. Four writers and nearly three decades should have done something to make this better than what it was, or at least original (even Tron, as plodding and boring as it apparently is, is still remembered and original and at least tried something new, even if it did apparently fail). And it's a shame.

Oh, and one last thing: the use of hallucinogenic substances made this film (and the score, especially) bearable.

P.S. - in the theatre there were teenagers on their phones, talking loudly and fucking taking pictures. One teenager was apparently completely perplexed as to why Kevin Flynn didn't wear shoes at his home, and talked loudly about that fact for FIVE MINUTES. I fucking hate going to the movies sometimes.

The Social Network

The Social Network (2010) David Fincher

This is, by no stretch, director David Fincher's best film, nor is it the best film of the year (ahem, True Grit is probably the best film of the past two or three years). However, being a David Fincher film, it is incredibly precise, technically astounding, with an amazing score by Trent Reznor, an impossibly slick script by Aaron Sorkin, beautifully muted cinematography by longtime Fincher collaborator Jeff Cronenweth, and magnetic acting by everyone involved (except for Justin Timberlake). Also, this movie is not about the founding of Facebook. That is, it is about the founding of Facebook, but that's not what it's about. I'll get to that in a minute.

I'll get the technical stuff out of the way first. After the misstep that was The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button (a gorgeous, at times marvelous film bogged down by a maudlin, trite, ploddingly meandering plot and a plot device that ultimately was never really explored) David Fincher reigned it in considerably. Gone is any of his trademarks (high contract lighting; CGI-augmented camerawork (and performances); desaturated colors; single-frame shots), and instead the palette is a cold, mechanical metallic gray. His characters, being college students, are considerably more fun than his previous characters (with the exception of Bob or Tyler Durden...but even then there was a darkness to them).

Aaron Sorkin's script, as noted before, would be quotable if one could follow the whiplash-fast delivery provided by the actors (not at all a negative comment, don't get me wrong). Sorkin's script bounces around from the building of the site, and intercuts it with the settlement cases, wherein Zuckerberg gets all the juiciest lines. Trent Reznor's gorgeous score merely hints (early on) at the dark intensity hidden behind not only film-Zuckerberg, but also the plot (and, to an extent, every one of us); there's something animal and primal about it (seemingly-random piano chords repeating themselves to a brooding theme that is counterpoint to persistent low percussion, like approaching footsteps). One could imagine a collision about to occur. His arrangement of “The Madness Of King George” during a Yale crew meet was brilliant, playing against low-depth-of-field, slightly undercranked footage of the competing crew teams. Beautiful. Technically, this film is absolutely gorgeous, restrained, and engaging. Now, on to the nitty-gritty...

The film opens with with Mark Zukerberg (Jesse Eisenberg)getting dumped by his then-girlfriend Erica Albright (Mara Rooney) in 2003, getting drunk, and blogging about his breakup while simultaenously building a website to spite not only Erica, but also every girl within the area of Harvard University. This stunt arouses the attention of not only the Harvard faculty, but also the Winklevoss twins (both played by Armie Hammer) in Yale, who were hoping to build an exclusive website to connect the Yale and Harvard students online. As we all know (apparently) Zuckerberg agrees to help the Winklevoss twins, but instead, with the financial help of his friend and roommate Eduardo Saverin (Andrew Garfield), steals the idea, creating Facebook (with the advice and support of Napster founder Sean Parker, played pretty terribly by Justin Timberlake, who looks, sounds, and acts as if he belongs in high school...that is, I've seen and worked with high school actors who knew better than to “act” while acting) and ultimately winding up the world's youngest billionaire...who has lost all of his friends in the process.

The film is not accurate, glossing over many fine details (such as the fact that Zuckerberg had a steady girlfriend throughout the founding of Facebook in real life), and fabricating others (it is suggested that Zuckerberg created Facebook to attract the attention of Erica, and, in a way, win her back). Up to the release of the film, the real Mark Zuckerberg gave interviews downplaying the implications made in the film, and deriding it as being inaccurate. His real motive, he's said, for creating Facebook is that he “wanted to create something...that's what these guys don't get: sometimes you just want to create something.” That's true, but also doesn't make for very good cinema.

And this is what the film is truly about: the romanticizing of our lives in a digital realm. Comparing real-life footage of Zuckerberg with the film's interpretation of him, one can't help but notice how tongue-tied, clumsy, and devoid of charm Zuckerberg is; Eisenberg's interpretation, however, dominates every scene he's in, and can barely stand the fact that he's smarter than everyone in his presence, nor can he conceal that fact. There is a charm to his pompous conceit, one which makes you loathe him and watch every move he makes: it's a delicate balance, one that a lesser actor would be unable to portray. Yes, film-Zuckerberg is a self-centered, narcissistic asshole, but there's a pity and brilliance to him, a youthful rebellion that transcends actions and makes him almost legendary (as his lawyer says at the end: “You're not an asshole. You're just trying really, really hard to be one”). And this is what we all do in social networking.

Those who deride the film (or laud it) for its handling of the founding of Facebook are missing the point. The film is not accurate, nor does it need to be so. It is a fictionalized account of a real-life event: just like JFK is, or Schindler's List. Or The Great Escape. Or...Die Hard. Yeah. What The Social Network does, however, is make visual all the digital histories we fabricate by building a profile on any number of social sites. One of the underlying philosophies behind Web 2.0 is the idea that we can get followers, fans, “likes”, hits, “friends”...whatever it is you want to call it...to follow our mundane lives. So how do we go about doing that? We create a version of ourselves that others would want to know and understand, or at least be interested in reading about. We don't talk about the uninteresting shit, nor about what we hope no one finds out about. We don't create digital selves to hurt our real selves. We romanticize our existence to make it something worthwhile, something meaningful and interesting.

No one wants to see the real Mark Zuckerberg in court for defrauding his friend, or the tedious court preceding, or sitting at a computer building code. While it is factual, it doesn't make for a very interesting film-going experience. One of the key moments in the film is when Zuckerberg realizes that adding a relationship tab is probably the most important thing he could add to the site, as people are interested in relationship statuses (or just relationships in general). The real Mark Zuckerberg said the relationship tab wasn't too big a deal, and the inspiration for it wasn't at all like it was in the film . Who cares? It's more exciting, more romantic, and more dramatic the way the film presents it (in the film, a classmate asks if Mark knows if a girl is dating someone, and he says “How should I know?” before getting the idea and running back to his dorm to add it to the site design).

The whole film is about relationships, and how they could be lost through passion, jealousy, or malice. In a larger sense, it's also about the relationship between the stories we tell ourselves through memory (“our” version of events, and others' version of events, to create Truth), and the relationships formed through fiction (how many “friends” do you have online? How many have you actually met? Talked to? Hung out with? Dated? How many have you lost? When you lost them, did it affect you? Or were they, truly, digital friends?) The Social Network is just another elaborate fiction created in a digital age to make life worth following. Doubt that explanation? Then realize that for the first time in almost a decade, Mark Zuckerberg is actually interesting to talk about, and is getting more interviews now than he has in the past. He derides the film, yet it has provided him with renewed publicity.

His fake self has made his real self that much more interesting.

Enter The Void

Enter The Void, (2009)

Director Gaspar Noe's Enter The Void is the first film by him that I've seen, and it is quite the introduction. Based somewhat on the Tibetan Book Of The Dead, the film begins with the main character, Oscar, being killed by Tokyo police after being set up in a drug-dealing sting. The “story”, as it were, revolves around those closest to Oscar, including his younger sister, Linda, and his best friend, Alex. As the repercussions of his death begin to resonate in their lives, Noe explores the themes of life, death, love, forgiveness, and honesty. Oh, and he also manages to do this by creating some of the best, trippiest visuals of any film I've ever seen, and by portraying the entire film in the first-person point-of-view. And also, the craziest title sequence you'll ever see.

The plot starts shortly after Oscar (Nathaniel Brown), a low-level drug dealer/user living in Tokyo with his sister, Linda (Paz De La Huerta) is shot and killed by police at the night club/bar The Void. Oscar's friend Alex (Cyril Roy), had accompanied him to the bar, but wanted nothing to do with the dealing, and managed to witness the police carrying out his friend's body; Alex's importance to the story is fixed both figuratively and immediately (Alex introduced Oscar to the supplier Bruno, who ultimately supplied Oscar with the load of drugs that got him killed), as well as having supplied Oscar with the Book Of The Dead that makes for the thematic core of the film. Oscar's death serves as the opening scene for what is essentially a treatise on life, love, hate, pain, anger, loneliness, friendship, loyalty, trust, and sex.

Lots and lots and lots of sex (I guess I know what void Noe was referring to! Ba-zing!).

The plot also serves the purpose of fully, completely immersing the audience in the lives of the characters: for the first thirty minutes or so, the camera is entirely in the first-person (something which has been attempted for the running time of a feature-length film only with Lady In The Lake, a film noir from the 1950's). The approach tends to fail, typically because without knowing the character's face, age, etc., the audience has trouble fully relating to characters (a lot can be learned about someone just by looking at their face). In the aforementioned film, the audience sees the main character's face only when he looks into a mirror; here, the same thing occurs: at one point Oscar looks into a mirror to rinse his face off, and we see his reflection. After Oscar's death, his spirit (or whatever it is the camera is supposed to represent) floats throughout Tokyo revisiting his friends and sister, and we never again see him (although we know, just by virtue of how the camera moves, in a very deliberate, hand-held manner, that Oscar is still present in some sense); other times, he relives and revisits his past life (he sees himself bathing with his mother and sister; he re-witnesses his parents' deaths during a head-on collision; he relives promising his younger sister he'd never leave her). His revisiting his past life is always shown from just behind his head (as if Oscar's spirit were watching from just of the shoulder of his past self).

Truth be told, this is a camera's film, one that redefines what one can do with a camera (and, also, where one can put a camera. The camera literally goes everywhere). The plot is largely inconsequential, as the film is more an affirmation of life, with all the ugliness, pain, and, ultimately, trippy beauty therein. It's a bold film, maddening in its repetition, and its apparent lack of taste (I never thought I'd watch a graphic abortion in a film...but, here we go...), and sporting performances that border on genius and heartrending and fearless (Paz de la Huerta; Emily Alyn Lind; Jesse Kuhn), to just...well...fucking bad (Nathaniel Brown. Truth be told, I'm glad he got shot early on. He was a bit charmless and extremely bland).

The real stars of the film, however, are the sound editors, scorer (Thomas Bangalter), and cinematographer (Benoit Debe). Especially the cinematographer. Damn. To essentially create a character out of something we never see, and to effortlessly fuse each image to create a narrative-long single shot deserves all the praise it could possibly ever get.

I might as well end this review here and say that this is a film that absolutely must be seen. It's maddening, it's not for everyone, it's overlong...but, ultimately, it is rewarding. It's emotional, it's sad, it's funny, it's trippy. It's beautiful. It's like. It's unlike anything you'll see.

You just have to be in a mood for it.

In Defense Of Levity (For Bond)

So, this post isn't going to be my typical review-tangent that I've devised for this blog. I've been away for a while, been thinking for a while, and been trying to keep up with film news. For those who don't really know or aren't aware, I'm a huge HUGE fan of the James Bond series (both the books and the movies). I'd recently completed the new Wii version of "GoldenEye", and I'm currently watching The World Is Not Enough and am in the mood to watch Quantum Of Solace immediately after that. I've essentially memorized both films by heart, but am here to make note of the most glaring difference between the previous films in the Bond series, and the markedly different (more "mature") version present by Daniel Craig.
I greatly enjoy Craig as Bond, and the two films have had their moments (well, to be fair, Casino Royale is one of the best in the series). However, with the recent swirl of casting rumors for the next Bond film (Javier Bardem? Ralph Fiennes? Both very fine, accomplished actors, don't get me wrong), and the surprising, intriguing choice of director and writer (Sam Mendes and John Logan respectively), the question I keep asking myself is: where'd all the fun go?
I understand that following 2002's wrong-headed and overblown effects-spectacle that was Die Another Day, the series needed to be toned down considerably (this happened throughout the history of the series: after You Only Live Twice came the unbelievably accomplished On Her Majesty's Secret Service; after the cartoonish Moonraker came the underrated For Your Eyes Only), so toning down the series was never something unheard of in the series. The difference, however, is that the latest three-picture arc seems to focus on the inner-demons and psychological turmoil of the character that is James Bond. To be honest...that's...slightly boring.
Look, Casino Royale was successful because we saw a version of Bond hitherto unseen: fragile, cold, single-minded, and, ultimately, naive. It was the first film in the series since On Her Majesty's Secret Service to actually treat "Bond the archetype" as "Bond the real life character", and the result was excitement in watching Bond get hurt, make mistakes, and grow as a character. It was bold, exciting, and fresh. And within this rebooted series was still the sense of flippant fun that characterized the series (a parkour chase in a construction site? Only in a Bond film!)
Quantum Of Solace (and, I fear, the next film in the series) treated Bond as just another tragic, tortured hero for the Millenials. In that film, he doesn't sleep, he drinks too much, and he kills without hesitation, and there is a real feel to the violence (when he kills Mr. Slate, he coldly waits until we see that character bleed out). He's tortured, yes, and when he dumps Mathis---his friend who was literally tortured for Bond's sake---in a dumpster and steals his money, you realize, "Wow. What an asshole."
And that's a line Bond always managed to deftly walk. He is chauvinistic, arrogant, sexist, and, essentially, a boy in a man's body. He's selfish, callous, possibly sociopathic, and a murderer. But he does it with such charm and assurance and grace that he's likable; although we know he'll always get out of a jam, we still enjoy watching his means of doing so. And have enjoyed his escapades for the past 49 years, 22 films, and 6 actors. Bond should enjoy being Bond; his existence is almost entirely materialistic, almost anal in the detail to class, high-living, and showing off money and elegance.
So why Bourne it up? Why choose directors who have almost no experience in the action genre (look, Marc Forster is a good director, but he was entirely the wrong choice to direct an action film...especially a Bond film. The same goes for Lee Tamahori and Michael Apted. These are good directors with some great films, but their movies rank in some of the blandest or worst of the series). I have hope that Sam Mendes will give the goods with his Bond film (he did direct the very accomplished Road To Perdition, which also featured Daniel Craig and had some atmospheric composition and at least decent action), but I for one am tired of "pushing the edge" with the Bond series.
Daniel Craig's serious take on Bond was predated by over 15 years by Timothy Dalton, who gets a lot of undo flak for his take on the character. Dalton's take was the best balance of film-Bond and novel-Bond, and he was badass (just look at the opening to his first Bond, The Living Daylights: he doesn't even talk until he's done some implausible stunt and exploded a living human being. It doesn't get more badass than that!) Craig and Dalton approach the character the same way and with the same gravitas; the difference, though is that the Dalton films still manage to incorporate the staples of the series (gadgets, outlandish set-pieces, beautiful locations, Moneypenny, Q) while giving a more "real-world" feel to the plot. It was an attempt to make Bond more realistic and gritty, but there was still the fantasy, still the wonder and excitement and, damnit, FUN that characterized the best of the series! (Want an example of where the Craig Bond films should go to keep that balance? Just watch the extremely underrated Licence To Kill.)
Maybe it's the state of modern action films. We want our heroes conflicted and tragic. We want our action gritty and dirty and confusing. We want everything grounded in a reality we can understand. But when we do that for every film, what do we lose? Maybe it's the same difference between 1989's Batman and The Dark Knight: The Dark Knight is by far a superior film, but it's just not as fun, it's not the film I would watch at 1 in the morning after drinking. It's the difference between 2004's Punisher (a film that takes itself much too seriously) and 2008's goofy, fun, violent Punisher: War Zone. It's the difference between Iron Man 2 (which spent too much of its over-produced runtime setting up The Avengers and throwing in geek references that won't pay off until films that come out at least a year later) and Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World, which was just so damn buoyant and in love with itself you couldn't help but be charmed by its self-contained sense of fun. Why does "serious" mean "tragic"? Why does "realistic" mean "gritty and violent"? Why does "good" mean "down-to-earth"?
I want my Bond to enjoy being who he is, and not be a humorless dick. When Craig says to someone in Quantum Of Solace, in a scene right after an ultimately disappointing and confusing boat chase, "Here, take her. She's seasick.", he says it almost derisively, as if making a pun were a chore. His character can't enjoy himself, and I think Craig (the actor) is feeling it too. He's stated in interviews he'd wanted a fun romp to end his tenure. And I want that too. Bring back the gadgets and the machine-gun-toting cars. Make that balance between fantasy and topical events that were explored so well in From Russia With Love, and GoldenEye, and Casino Royale, and Licence To Kill. Have fun!
I'll end with this: I hope Mr. Mendes realizes that Bond is fantasy. He's the ultimate male fantasy. A "mantasy", if you will (my next article on sea mammals will also use that word). He's best enjoy on the big screen, with the loud music, and with his theme blaring in the background. The Wii game I just played does this balance well, and was more enjoyable than the last film.
The most memorable Bond films are the ones that are fantasy. Surely, the stunts of the modern version of Bond can do better than a confusing rooftop foot chase, or a dumb-as-shit boat chase. Or a confusing as shit car chase.
I'd want to be as blown away as I was watching the parkour chase five years ago.
Or go all out: upstage the parachute jump from The Spy Who Loved Me.
Make something as immaturely fun as the tank chase from GoldenEye!
Something memorable!
Whatever you do, just bring back the fun!