Endlessly Rewatchable: Point Break

People are often stunned to find out that I’m a Point Break fan of hyperbolic proportions.  And I suppose, given my penchant for the works of Bergman, Herzog, Truffuat and the like, an action-thriller whose two most spoken words are “fuck” and “brah” wouldn’t really seem up my alley.

Nonsense.

Point Break is the embodiment of film entertainment.  It’s sleek, funny, engaging, and, yes, endlessly rewatchable.  And, according to /Film, it was released 20 years ago today.  This knowledge is worth discussing for two reasons: first, because for fans, me writing about it (and you reading about it) will undoubtedly spark our interest in going home and rewatching it as soon as we can.  We want the guns, the masks, the banks, the waves, the dives, the Swayz; we want to be mindlessly entertained for 120 minutes in a way that no other film of the genre has been able to for the past decade.

Secondly, the anniversary is worth mentioning because there are, I regret to speculate, a wide number of you who have (gulp) never seen Point Break.

But this can’t be true, can it?  Surely everyone knows the story of undercover FBI agent Johnny Utah (Keanu Reeves, playing Keanu Reeves to perfection), and how he is tasked by his horrible boss (John C. “Why Don’t You Astonish Me, Shitbrains” McGinley) to catch a slew of bank robbers who disguise themselves with masks of ex Presidents.  (Quick trivia question for fans: what four Presidents do the robbers emulate?)

"Lose something, brah?!"

Coming up short in ways to crack the case, Utah’s over-the-hill, in-constant-need-of-a-meatball-sub partner, Pappas (Gary Busey, playing Gary Busey to perfection) suggests that Utah exercise a theory of his (that the ex Presidents are surfers) by learning how to hang ten on the rad beaches of L.A.  Utah soon becomes tight with Bodhi (Patrick Swayze, playing Patrick Swayze to perfection), but things aren’t what they appear.  People aren’t who they say.  Definitely… definitely. 

But, no.  Unfortunately it is true.  Many misguided people my age have never had the luxury of relishing Point Break. I know this for a fact, because I experienced it firsthand.  In October, I convinced a friend of mine that we should dress up as Johnny Utah and Bodhi for Halloween.  My friend, being the good sport that he is, shaved his beard, slapped some fake blood on his face and walked around for the whole night with a spot-on “my name is Keanu Reeves and I’m confused” expression on his face.  Me?  I dressed in a tux, put on a Ronald Reagan mask and was good to go. 

My buddy Brent Hunt (left) flexing his inner J. Utah, and yours truly (right) minus the .44 magnum 

But not really.  At the party we attended, I was asked repeatedly why I decided to dress like Reagan the President, and why I was wearing white gloves.  My friend just got looks of “who the hell is this guy, and why didn’t he dress up” confusion.  I spent the whole night taking off my mask and explaining to people who I was.  The party was a bust, and I was heartbroken.

So, back to the film at hand.  All kidding and geeking-out aside, Point Break is a genuinely perfect action-thriller.  If I’m turning on my film theory, I can tell you that it contains many of the best action sequences committed to contemporary film.  The surfing scenes are vivid and crisp, there’s a fight scene that is intense and, intentionally, hilarious (thanks much in part to Anthony Kiedis’ cameo), a search-warrant-gone-terribly-wrong scene that never fails to produce a gasp, a chase scene that seems impossible to achieve with a film camera (and not digital), and two skydiving scenes that, thanks to Mark Isham’s score, are supremely exhilarating.

"Amazing! Fucking amazing!"

Point Break was directed by Kathryn Bigelow (aka Mrs. James Cameron at the time of shooting), who recently became the first woman to win a Best Director Oscar for her incredible Hurt Locker.  Watching Point Break, it’s clear that we’re watching a film by someone with a keen eye for popping action, and someone who has no qualms with crafting a film of simple entertainment.  The film doesn’t take itself seriously, yet it is seriously awesome.

If you haven’t seen Point Break in a while, watch it again, it really has held up well over the past 20 years.  If you’re feeling extra devilish, buy the Blu-Ray, the surfing and skydiving scenes alone are worth it.

If, for some odd reason, you haven’t seen Point Break, do yourself a favor and watch it.  Then (I suppose you can wait a day or two), buy a case of beer, invite some friends over, and watch it again.  In no time at all, you’ll experience Point Break the way it is meant to be experienced: screaming lines of dialogue at the television while reaching for another beer, all without missing a frame.  Vaya con Dios.


(An excerpt from the badass fight mentioned earlier.  Back off, Warchild, seriously.)

A Better Life

When a director’s resume includes, but is not limited to, movies with titles like Down to Earth, The Golden Compass and The Twilight Saga: New Moon, audiences don’t sit around waiting for said director’s moment of please-take-me-seriously prestige to show itself.

But Chris Weitz’s A Better Life deserves every accolade – of which there are many – currently being thrown its way.  It’s a film with a stance, but not overtly so.  It’s a film with a heart, but not in a way that’s melodramatically overbearing.  In short, A Better Life, far more than Weitz’s other films (which also include About a Boy and American Pie), is a film with a soul.

With so many heavy assertions and strong pontifications coming out of Hollywood message movies recently, it is wholly refreshing to see a movie that deals with such a hot-bottom topic (that of illegal immigration), in such a micro way.

Carlos (Demián Bichir) is a quiet, honest man, working all day every day in East Los Angeles, landscaping rich people’s homes.  He keeps to himself, doing the worked that’s required, eating from small food carts, never making a fuss.  At night, he comes home and sleeps on the couch, letting his 14-year-old, angst-ridden son Luis (José Julián) occupy the only bed in their small home.

Carlos’ boss, looking to retire and move back home to Mexico, offers to sell his landscaping truck, tools included, to Carlos for a modest price.  But Carlos fears that, because he is an illegal immigrant with no driver’s license, taking over the truck could put him at risk for being deported.

If you’ve seen the trailer, and I really hope you haven’t, then you know Carlos soon finds himself in a bit of a pickle, which for our purposes will go left unexplained.

On the surface, A Better Life is a film about immigration; about the hardships and follies an illegal immigrant has to go through in this country to attain what the title suggests.  But, thankfully, the film never takes a deliberate stance, there are no gasping-for-breath monologues about how bad Carlos has it and how he prays that everything will work out.  The film is far too subtle for that.

Dig deeper and you find that A Better Life is, more significantly, a heartfelt father and son story. Carlos spends the little free time he has tending to his tiny garden and sleeping.  He trusts that his steady work ethic will set a good example for Luis, a hothead who is inches away from being peer pressured into joining a gang.  Luis, like most 14-year-olds, is angry at life.  He’s mad that his dad is working all the time, mad that his mother isn’t around, mad that he goes to a shit school, and so on. Also, like most 14-year-olds, he takes his teenage aggression out on his father, who casually dismisses his son’s ploys for help, almost to a fault.

Now, we’ve seen this all countless times – the mad as hell teenager butting heads with his father – and there is only one real reason to attempt it yet again: casting great actors.

In his first film role, José Julián does steady, multilayered work as Luis.  He nails the teenage angst well beyond what is required in the script.  His subtle transformation from angry to confused to curious to vengeful to remorseful is perfectly graceful.  But Julián is just one half of the puzzle.

On the other end, we have Demián Bichir, who now justly deserves to be billed as great.  Bichir (who did fine work as Castro in Soderbergh’s Che, and Mary-Louise Parker’s drug lord husband on Weeds), does understated wonders with Carlos.  He’s a man confounded by his status (as an immigrant, as a man, and as a father) but puts in the work despite it all.  He’s a man that, I think, realizes he’ll never have what he wanted for himself, but still has a chance to give that to his son.  He’s a man of love, a man of soul. 

Near the end of the film, Bichir delivers a monologue with such restrained passion, that I was moved to tears.  It would be selfishly simple to scream and shout and let the tears flow wild, but Bichir holds back, in a way that is honest and authentic beyond words.  A Better Life isn’t a great film, but it’s anchored by a flawless performance, one that will surely top award’s lists at the end of this year. A-

(Note: I made slight mention of the film's trailer earlier, but to be clear, if you can avoid the trailer, then do.  It shamefully reveals far too much of the film’s plot.)

Horrible Bosses

A trend has taken over two of Hollywood’s most profitable genres.

The Ring, while devilishly scary and somewhat brilliant, stalled the horror genre in PG-13 nonsense. But with reboots (Friday the 13th, Halloween) and torture porn franchises like Saw and Final Destination making their budget back and then some, the R-rated horror flick, for better or worse, is back for blood.

And for every hacked limp and spilled intestine a Saw movie dishes out, the new slew of R-rated comedies match in dick jokes and literal shit-your-pants antics. You can credit The Hangover for proving to studios that people still love raunchy dialogue, kinkily awkward sex and the varying art of making flatulence sound funny.

Most of the time, these new trends fail to produce a worthwhile film, but in the rarest of cases, as with Bridesmaids and now Horrible Bosses, the R-rated comedy has every right to let its freak flag fly.

Horrible Bosses is essentially a contemporary spin on Hitchcock’s Stranger’s on a Train (which the film proudly makes direct note of). Instead of two strangers agreeing to kill each other’s enemies, we have three best friends willing to knock off each other’s bosses.

Jason Bateman (in arguably is best Jason-Bateman-talks-really-fast-with-perfect-timing role since Arrested Development) is sick of his demonic boss, played by Kevin Spacey (basically revisiting his Swimming with Sharks character circa 2011, which is a compliment). Charlie Day (having a blast doing all the things he can’t do on It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia), wants his sex-pot boss (a perfectly against-type Jennifer Anniston) gone. While Jason Sudeikis (miles away from the staleness of Hall Pass) wants his cokehead boss (scene stealer Colin Farrell, sporting the worst haircut in film since Javier Bardem in No County for Old Men) out of the equation.

It’d be fruitless to explain all the absurd situations these three find themselves in; you’re far better off seeing for yourself. But I will say that their inexperience leads them to many uncomfortable situations, most hilariously with a murder consultant (Jamie Foxx) whose character name is as good as any I’ve heard in the last 10 years.

If there’s one fault with the film, it’s the fact that Jennifer Anniston, and particularly Colin Farrell, are grossly underused. While Kevin Spacey bites hard into his meaty role, I would’ve loved to have seen more of Anniston’s ridiculously foul-mouthed dentist, and Farrell’s hilariously un-PC, douchebag chemical salesman. If Farrell had been given as much screen time as Spacey, I’d be calling for an Oscar nomination. It’s an incredible comic performance, fit perfectly into a completely uproarious film that is more than worthy of sporting an R rating. B+

This Week in Why Bother: Zookeeper

“This Week in Why Bother” is an ongoing series in which I question why Hollywood is doing what it is doing, and explain why you need not bother with it. 

I’ll be skipping Zookeeper this week, but those of you with kids may have no choice but to sit through it.  Here are some of the shit bombs are few critics are throwing at it, but first, a little polite numbers crunch.

Zookeeper: By the Numbers

Director Frank Coraci’s other masterworks: 4 (The Wedding Singer, The Waterboy, Around the World in 80 Days, Click)

Writers it took to pen this gem: 5

Estimated hyperbolic budget: $80 million

Rotten Tomatoes approval rating on day of release: 14%

Roger Ebert, rogerebert.com   

Look, a great movie this is not. A pleasant summer entertainment it is. I think it can play for all ages in a family audience, it's clever to have the animals advising humans on their behavioral strategies, and besides, I'm getting a teensy bit exhausted by cute little animated animals.

Mike LaSalle, San Francisco Chronicle   

As far as complete wastes of time go, Zookeeper is not especially offensive. Yet it is surprising that everything you might expect to be charming in it just isn't - namely all the bits involving animals.

Richard Corliss, Time Magazine 

Did the MPAA accidentally leave off the "13" from its PG rating? Parents will be challenged to explain the urination scene, the size jokes and other penis-related comedy to their kids.

Kevin James remains a potentially appealing movie star — if only he didn't have to be in Kevin James movies.

Keith Phipps, The A.V. Club

As a study in insanity, Zookeeper is mildly interesting. But as a kiddie comedy, it’s something to watch only once the little ones have worn out their Dr. Doolittle DVD—maybe even their Dr. Doolittle 2 DVD, for that matter.

Scott Bowles, USA Today  

The animals aren’t completely to blame for the Zookeeper.  Unless they made it.  Which is possible. It's hard to think of a human finding much to laugh about in this wounded beast.

Why Meryl Streep is (probably) Gonna Win Another Oscar

The teaser trailer for The Iron Lady, which casts Meryl Streep as Margaret Thatcher, just went viral and is already causing mixed reactions.

When it was announced that Streep would be playing Thatcher, people started predicting an Oscar from the premature get-go.  The shared thought was that The Iron Lady would be heavy-handed Oscar bait, full of drama, screams and tears.  But watching the trailer, it seems director Phyllida Lloyd (whose only other feature film credit is the Streep-starring Mamma Mia!) is going for a slight, amusing take on the former Prime Minister.

Despite being nominated for damn near everything she’s in (amassing 16 total Oscar noms), Streep has only won twice: Best Supporting Actress for Kramer vs. Kramer (1979) and Best Actress for Sophie’s Choice (1982).

So let’s do a little Oscar math. Streep+Thatcher+serious= Oscar gold. Streep+Thatcher+funny= front row seat.

The Iron Lady is scheduled for a Dec. 16, 2011 release.

Larry Crowne

In Larry Crowne, Tom Hanks’ first directorial effort in 15 years, we’re presented a host of characters and situations that amount to next to nothing, but will pass the time all the same.

Larry Crowne (played with the go-to affability Tom Hanks seems so presently accustomed to) is perfectly content as a worker at a Wal-Mart-type store, humbly making his way toward his ninth stint as employee of the month.  But, because he skipped over college and enlisted in the Navy for 20 years after high school, he is downsized and sent packing.

At the advice of a neighbor, Larry dutifully enlists in community college, and soon meets two women who help propel the movie to shy-guy-on-big-campus, eye rolling wonderment.  There’s Talia (Gugu Mbatha-Raw), the coolest girl on campus who gives Larry a new haircut, clothes him in hip threads, and, you know, lets him join her… moped gang.  And Mrs. Tainot (Julia Roberts, being... Julia Roberts) the nasty speech teacher, who takes her troubles at home out on her students.

Let’s get the good stuff out of the way.  At my sold out, mid-afternoon, July 4 showing, a majority of the crowd really seemed to enjoy Larry Crowne.  Granted, most of them were over 65, but given the constant chuckles, I think they walked away with a pleasant dose of Capracorn.  And that’s fair, because Larry Crowne is perfectly decent.  It teeters right on the edge of importance and incoherence, nestling itself safely among films of the rom-com persuasion.

And that’s the problem I couldn’t shake throughout the entire movie: the fact that it really could be so much more.

Larry is initially presented as a genial buffoon, but soon turns into some Will Hunting-style economic genius.  Are we really expected to believe that I guy can’t land a job in retail, despite the fact that he can single-handedly refinance his house and guide a friend on smooth small business practices, based on what he learned in one semester of Econ 1? I guess so, because the film never expands on the topic.

And there’s Mrs. Tainot, who drinks too much but apparently isn’t an alcoholic.  Or her husband (Bryan Cranston, in a truly awful, over the top performance), who loves his wife, but is apparently addicted to porn.  Or Talia’s boyfriend (Wilmer Valderrama, in a truly awful, too-cool-for-school performance) who is a nice guy, but is apparently some sort of hot head. Or the interesting supporting characters (played by Pam Grier and Taraji P. Henson) who act merely as dialogue fillers.

All these evident issues would make for a far more interesting film, but Hanks, and co-writer Nia Vardalos (still living large off her My Big Fat Greek Wedding royalties) decide to play it annoyingly safe.

Watching Larry Crowne is like eating soft serve ice cream on a hot summer night.  It’s cool when you begin, but by the end, you’re left with a gooey mess, and questioning why you even bothered in the first place. C

Bad Teacher

It can be difficult to call a movie bad.  Most of the movies I’ve given a good thrashing to this year (Justin Bieber: Never Say Never, Scream 4, Fast Five, The Hangover II)   have all cleared green in global box office numbers.  Hell, if Transformers: Dark of the Moon can land $400 million dollars in six days, the opinions of film critics are widely being considered as a mere afterthought (if they’re considered at all).

Other times, I’m sent nasty e-mails or left spiteful comments (both of which are welcome) for bashing films (The Green Hornet, Your Highness, Thor, X-Men: First Class) without considering that “they are only aiming to be simple crowd pleasers.”

So, those are the most common categories that films I loathe fall into: they either make money, or generate negative reader feedback, or both.

I mention this because Bad Teacher does not, in any way, fall into those categories.  It isn’t going to make money, and loyal readers aren’t going to disagree with me, simply because this film is an egregious waste of time.  Boring, slow and utterly absent minded.

If, for some incredibly unfortunate reason, you find yourself watching Bad Teacher, here’s a call sheet of a few things you’ll see Cameron Diaz’s character do: smoke pot incessantly, cut off a loaded school bus with her car, drink booze at her desk, demand bribes from the parents of her students, give her bra to a 12-year-old, tell her students to fuck themselves, remind her students that they’re worthless, coerce a government official, have her students cheat on a major test, and on and on.  To make matters worse, this is all being done for the noble cause of acquiring a new boob job.  If Diaz’s character can plant fresh knockers, you see, then she can land a wealthy suitor and not have to worry about a pesky job to provide for herself.

I know what you’re thinking.  Replace Cameron Diaz with Billy Bob Thornton, teacher with mall Santa, and boob job with mall heist, and you’ve got Bad Santa, one of the funniest, raunchiest movies made in the last decade.  But where Terry Zwigoff’s film succeeded (you know, by actually being funny, and having a true heart when appropriate) Bad Teacher falls miserably flat. It's raunchiness isn't so over the top that we're forced to laugh, it's just plain dumb.

I could go on and on about how bad this film is.  About how the talents of Justin Timberlake, Jason Segel and Eric Stonestreet (who recently won an Emmy for playing Cameron on Modern Family) aren’t even remotely tapped into, but I’ve already used up too much of your time.  Bad Teacher is 92 minutes long and feels like an eternity.  It’s simple: just stay away.  F

(Note: for the record, nasty e-mails and harsh comments concerning posts on this blog are always welcome.  I'm not here to agree with you, so feel free to call me out on it.)

7 “American” Movies That Are In No Way Patriotic

What’s the fun in listing the most gung ho, ride-into-the-danger-zone, overly patriotic films of all time?  Instead, here are seven movies from the heartland that, despite their eponymous titles, in no way pretend to care about where they’re from.

American Graffiti (1973)

Cruise the strip, rock to tunes, eat greasy food, cruise the strip, race your car, cruise the strip, pick up some chicks, cruise the strip, debate college, rock to tunes, cruise the strip, race your car.  Repeat, relax.  Cruisin’.

An American Werewolf in London (1981)

Tired of the boring mountain hikes America has to offer?  No problem! Travel to rural England with a buddy and take in all the sights.  Just, you know, don’t go out on the night of a full moon.  Because then you’ll get mauled alive by a werewolf, your buddy will die, his ghost will come back to haunt you, and you’ll only have precious days before you yourself turn into a werewolf.  Better thought, just head to the Rockies.

American History X (1998)

Street shootings, Mein Kampf, kinky sex, baseball bats, roast beef to the face, swastikas, dead firemen, basketball, Nazi propaganda, a fat guy, blood, guns, Lincoln, weights, analyze and interpret, prison rape, curb stomp; there’s something here for everyone.  Go America!

American Beauty (1999)

As a middle aged man in America, you can tell your wife to fuck herself, ignore your daughter, blackmail your boss, quit your job, smoke weed all day, flip burgers, lift weights, listen to Pink Floyd, buy the car of your dreams, and try to bang a 17-year-old.  Not half bad.

American Pie (1999)

There’s nothing more American than wetdream virgins trying to get laid on prom night.  Too much work?  No worries, jerk it into a sock, or set up a webcam in your room to spy on some naked chick (don’t worry, legal action won’t even be considered).  Still got the blues?  No problem, just jam your junk right into a warm apple pie.  Problem solved.

American Psycho (2000)

What could possibly be American about a Wall Street yuppie scum who likes kill, screw, snort, drink, ridicule, and dress with impeccable style, expressing little to no apathy?  Actually, come to think of it, this may be the most patriotic film of all time. 

American Gangster (2007)

Tired of sitting on the sidelines?  Ready to step up your game?  Easy.  Kill your competitors, travel to Vietnam, convince natives to sell you primo-grade heroin, throw the stuff in the coffins of dead American soldiers (you know, to dissuade those pesky customs officials), pay off the cops, cut the H at high quality, sell it for cheap, kill more competition, get caught, rat everyone out.  “This is America.” Damn right.

Happy Fourth of July!

Transformers: Dark of the Moon

Let’s be honest, fans of the Transformers films could care less what professional film critics, let alone myself, have to say about Transformers: Dark of the Moon.  I, naturally, found it to be a headache-inducing waste of time and money, but if Martin Scorsese and Robert De Niro made Taxi Driver 2: Bickle Bites Back, I’d be the first in line, regardless of what critics or my peers said.

So instead of diving into an all out bash, it seems more appropriate to try and gauge if fans of the Transformers franchise will enjoy this third installment.  At my half-capacity, 3D showing, the crowd seemed more or less into it.  Tween laughter was evoked from Shia Labeouf’s incessant mile-a-minute banter, and from the aimless, politically incorrect dialogue delivered by the couple who play Labouf’s parents.  Kids seemed interested in the (few) action scenes, and the general consensus murmured as everyone left the theatre was that “it was better than the last one.”

Me, I just don’t get it.

Good robots work with humans to fight off the bad robots who want to take over Earth and enslave all its inhabitants.  I don’t get why it takes two hours and 40 minutes to deliver on that very simple plot.  I don’t get why the characters are forced to talk endlessly using dialogue that no one could possibly fully understand, or why the first action scene doesn’t commence until an hour and 13 minutes into the movie. 

I also don’t get how the characters can leave Washington, D.C. then get attacked by robots moments later on a highway near… Chicago.  Then, in the next scene, be back in D.C., as if 20 minutes have passed in real time. (This is no exaggeration.  They leave a D.C. apartment, and are suddenly attacked on a highway with street signs to Aurora via route 39, then they outrun the bad robots and are instantly back in D.C.)  I can’t be the only one who notices this stuff, right?

I’ve made no secret in labeling the second Transformers, Revenge of the Fallen, one of the very worst films I’ve ever seen. A great deal of my lambasting was due to that film’s laborious running time, and director Michael Bay’s apparent disregard for gender equality.  Well, Transformers 3 is not only longer but it’s just as crude.  Maybe I’m being nitpicky, but don’t women get offended when Bay introduces a major female character, he often does it with an extended tracking shot of their half naked ass?

Transformers: Dark of the Moon is, I suppose, better than the second; which is the faintest praise I can give.  It isn’t, as Bay and his cronies have suggested to the press, “the most spectacular visual experience ever seen.”  Its 3D isn’t flashy (which is a good thing), but it isn’t the Avatar game changer Bay thinks it is.

And, for me, therein lies the problem.  I can fully enjoy movies like Piranha 3D, The Expendables, hell, even the Saw films, because they don’t pretend to be anything more than the pop garbage they are.  But Michael Bay, I sincerely believe, thinks that the best movies aside from Transformers 3 are Transformers 2 and Transformers 1.  He thinks he’s a masterful filmmaker because his fighting robot flicks make more money than they cost.  Well, that’s absurd, and this guy needs to be put in his place.  If not, I’ll be reviewing Transformers 6 in a few years. D-

In Appreciation: Peter Falk

Like most people my age, I was first exposed to Falk as the Grandfather/Narrator in The Princess Bride.  And after his hilarious turn in Jon Favreau’s Made (“BECAUSE YOU LOST MY CARPET CLEANING VAN AND I DON’T LIKE YOU!”), I was curious to see more.

And that’s when I discovered it.

Aside from Columbo, Falk was best known for being a member of the John Cassavetes troupe, making genuine independent films on a shoestring budget, that were, usually, released to much fanfare.  Titles included Husbands, Opening Night, and, most notably, A Woman Under the Influence.

Released in 1974, A Woman Under the Influence is inarguably one of the very best films released during the best decade of American cinema.  It’s about Mabel (played to delirious perfection by Gena Rowlands), whose mental instability quickly grows too much for her husband, Nick (Falk), to bear.  Nick is a blue collar, regular ol’ Joe, and although he means well, his strained patience leads to sudden outbursts.  Soon he sends Mabel to a treatment center where she can receive the adequate care he cannot, or will not, provide.

For the past few days, I’ve read countless Peter Falk In Memoriams, all of which touch on his role as Nick Longhetti in A Woman Under the Influence.  Most of these articles are written by film critics who have forgotten more film history than I will ever know, but it’s incredible to see how opinions differ so drastically concerning Nick.

Mabel is a bad mother, and a worse wife.  She cheats, neglects, and is often cold and dissonant, all characteristics that can be attributed to her illness.  Upon first viewing of the film, I felt pity for Mabel, but still regarded her as a lost woman, nearly broken beyond repair.  In short, I saw her as the villain. 

Rowlands and Falk in A Woman Under the Influence

When I watch the film now and carefully study Nick, or, more accurately, Falk’s portrayal of Nick, it’s clear to me that Nick is the lost one, broken beyond repair.  A husband can’t be faulted for not knowing how to care for his mentally ill wife.  But Nick’s ignorance on the issue is as shocking as anything Mabel does in the film.  Nick does several deplorable things, he shares a six pack of beer with his pre-teenage kids, screams, hits and berates Mabel during her frequent episodes; all of which contribute to the regression of his wife.

In one emotionally horrific scene, Nick demands that Mabel, fresh home from the hospital and feeling better, go back to her usual ways.  He orders her to scream and shout and make her standard vocal and facial tics. Everytime I see the film, I try to understand Nick’s motivations in doing this.  Why is he so intent on erasing Mabel’s progress?  Why does he want to keep his wife ill?  To be honest, I’m not sure, which is a credit to Cassavetes’ direction and the flawless performances of Falk and Rowlands. 

Intentions left unspoken are far more cinematically intriguing than having everything spelled out.  Those awful, never ending monologues that so many American directors rely on today, the ones where the villain (or whoever) unveils every little plot detail just to make way for a bow-wrapped ending, are equivalent to a magician revealing his tricks.

A Woman Under the Influence is a masterpiece, but a tough one to get through.  It runs longer than two and half hours, and sustains a fierce emotional brutality throughout.  You haven’t seen manic arguing until you see Mabel and Nick go at it. 

Mabel acts the way she does because of her illness, but Nick’s motivations are far from solvable.  It’s a character that keeps evolving and adding new dimensions.  It’s the type of performance that lives on; long after its creator has passed.

Peter Falk died on June 23, 2011 from complications stemming from Alzheimer’s.  He was 83 years old.

This Week in Why Bother: New Footloose Trailer

“This Week in Why Bother” is an ongoing series in which I question why Hollywood is doing what it is doing, and explain why you need not bother with it.

Moments ago, the trailer for the new Footloose movie went viral and opinions are thus far in synch: what the hell is this?

The original Footloose is a campy masterpiece. It’s got forced acting, cheesy musical numbers, a bitchin’ soundtrack, classic dialogue and heavy-handed dramatics; which all work perfectly as a 107 minute ball of cheese.

Looking at the new Footloose trailer, we can deduce that this new Ren (played by Kenny Wormald, whose other credits of prestige include You Got Served and Center Stage: Turn It Up) talks with a God-awful Boston accent (actually, to be honest, I'm quite sure where that accent alleges to be from), dresses exactly the same as Kevin Bacon did (which should really help with the film’s 2011 setting), and will most likely spend the majority of the film wearing sunglasses and pursing his lips in disdain.

What else? Crunk music (but…why?), Dennis Quaid in dire constipation, some shlub standing in for Chris Penn, awful special effects (but… why?), a lame caricature of an uncle; it all amounts to something grossly unnecessary, which is a shame, given that the film’s director, Craig Brewer, made the great Hustle & Flow six years ago.

I’m not one to call my shots, but being a great admirer of bashing all things Transformers, I was fully prepared to call the upcoming Transformers flick the worst movie of the year. After watching the Footloose trailer, I think I’ll cut the fighting robots some slack.

Tags: Movie Trailers, Movies Blog

Five Trailers to Watch (and why you should care)

Tabloid – July 15

Because it’s from Errol Morris, who proved with Gates of Heaven, The Thin Blue Line, The Fog of War, and others, that he’s one of the best documentary filmmakers to ever work in the medium.  Tabloid tells the true story of Joyce McKinney who, allegedly, kidnapped her lover, tied him up in her home, and had sex with him repeatedly for days, all in the hopes of dissuading him from Mormonism.  Watch this trailer and tell me you don’t want to see this movie.

Martha Marcy May Marlene – Oct. 7

Because it’s got some serious buzz coming out of Sundance and Cannes, and because you’re really curious to see if Elizabeth Olsen can deliver beyond what her surname, made famous by her older twin sisters, promises.  Also, the trailer looks crazy creepy.  Also… John Hawkes. 

Take Shelter – Oct. 14

Because director Jeff Nichols, and star Michael Shannon, did subtle wonders with Shotgun Stories.  Also because it co-stars Jessica Chastain, who will be fresh off her Tree of Life glory, and scene-stealing character actor Shea Whingham, who you should probably start to take serious notice of.  If Terrence Malick and David Lynch ever collaborated, their eerie offspring would probably look something like this.

A Dangerous Method – Nov. 11

Because it’s David Cronenberg and Viggo Mortensen, who have previously created two of the best works of their careers with A History of Violence and Eastern Promises.  Also because the trailer doesn’t promise a stuffy period piece, but rather some psycho-sexual drama in the vein of Cronenberg’s excellent Crash.  Also, Michael Fassbender.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo – Dec. 21

Because David Fincher. Rooney Mara. Lisbeth Salander. Trent Reznor. Dark hues. Creepy house. Daniel Craig. Christopher Plummer. Piercings. Guns. Stellan Skarsgård. Karen O. Motorcycles. Snow. The. Feel. Bad. Movie. Of. Christmas. Sold.

9 Fantastically Awful Movie Dads

To help bring attention to Father’s Day this weekend, movie sites are currently littered with lists promoting the Best Movie Dads of all time.

Atticus Finch, To Kill a Mockingbird; Ray Kinsella, Field of Dreams; George Banks, Father of the Bride; Daniel Hillard, Mrs. Doubtfire; Chris Gardner, The Pursuit of Happyness… you know what all of these movie dads have in common?  Being boring.

Forget the lovey-dovey, give me the sick and gruesome.  Here’s a call sheet of nine of the worst dads to ever grace the silver screen.

Humbert Humbert, Lolita

As played by James Mason

Marry a woman solely because you’re obsessed with her 14-year-old daughter, wait for wife to die, kidnap girl from summer camp, fail to mention that her mother is dead, be persistent with sexual advances.

Noah Cross, Chinatown

As played by John Huston

Be horrible enough to make your daughter scream something aloud that no daughter should ever have to scream aloud.

Jack Torrance, The Shining

As played by Jack Nicholson

Deny that you’re an abusive alcoholic, lock family in some obscure hotel for months, slowly go insane, attempt to hack wife up with an ax, chase son and wife through a hedge maze during a blistering snow storm; all work and no play will make you a dull boy.

Peter McCallister, Home Alone/Home Alone 2

As played by John Heard

Forget son at home, fly to Paris, make wife fly around the world to secure safety of son, act nonchalant about the whole thing.  Wait a year, lose same kid in an airport, go to Florida, make wife fly to New York City to secure safety of child, act nonchalant about the whole thing.

Ed Wilson, Natural Born Killers

As played by Rodney Dangerfield

Threaten, berate, abuse, and molest daughter (which will in turn fuel her desire to become a mass murdering psychopath) all in a 10 minute sitcom parody with appropriate laugh track.

Bill Maplewood, Happiness

As played by Dylan Baker

Drug and rape two of your son’s classmates, describe to son, in great detail, that you drugged and raped two of his friends and that you’d, probably, like to drug and rape him, too.

Col. Frank Fitts, American Beauty

As played by Chris Cooper

Beat son nearly unconscious for smoking pot, send son to mental institution, neglect wife, berate gay neighbors, beat son for going into your cabinet, kick son out of house for (maybe) being gay, kiss straight neighbor, kill straight neighbor.

Daddy Deiks, Frailty

As played by Bill Paxton

Convince young sons that God has hired you to kill people, force son to dig a dungeon to harbor said “demons,” force sons to kill innocent people, seem pretty indifferent about the whole thing.

Daniel Plainview, There Will Be Blood

As played by Daniel Day-Lewis

Drag infant boy around with you for show and tell, make money off of being a “household name,” neglect boy ceaselessly, force feed him whiskey as a cure for deafness, send boy away as to not deal with boy’s deafness.   Twenty years later, tell boy his whole life is a lie, remind son a dozen times that he is actually just a bastard in a basket.

Happy Father’s Day!

This Week in Why Bother: Green Lantern

“This Week in Why Bother” is an ongoing series in which I question why Hollywood is doing what it is doing, and explain why you need not bother with it.


I have virtually no interest in what the Green Lantern trailer promises: awful special effects, Ryan Reynolds, the bound-to-be-cringe-worthy-phoned-in Peter Sarsgaard and Blake Lively performances. 

Currently (at 10:30 a.m. on the film’s day of release) Rotten Tomatoes says the movie has a 21% approval rating.  It’s no real shock that $150 million doesn’t necessarily buy you a quality film, but don’t take my word for it.  (Click the author’s name for their full review.)

Roger Ebert, rogerebert.com

One of the absurdities of many modern superhero movies is how they adorn silly plots with great solemnity and millions of dollars in special effects. Nor does Green Lantern shortchange us on dialogue; indeed, it spends a great deal of time at the impossible task of explaining the logic and rules of its plot. I am amazed at how calmly humans absorb and accept the incredulities of these stories.

Manohla Dargis, The New York Times

…If Warner Brothers doesn’t invest in quality — as it did with Christopher Nolan’s excellent Batman films — more substandard diversions like Green Lantern (and those previous DC big-screen bummers Watchmen and Jonah Hex) will be flooding multiplexes for the foreseeable future. If the company is going to shove a property like Green Lantern down consumer throats the least it can do is give us a good movie.  And Green Lantern is bad.

Peter Travers, Rolling Stone

Green Lantern, a new primer on how not to make a comicbook movie unless you want to screw shit up. Flat FX, smirky acting, clunky writing and clueless direction. WTF?

Listen, I wouldn't give a damn if this screen Lantern had its own energy source. But not even director Martin Campbell, who worked wonders intro-ing James Bond in 2006's Casino Royale, can get this cinematic corpse on its feet. 

Scott Tobias, The A.V. Club 

There are movies willed to life by the passion of their creators, and there are movies like Green Lantern, which are willed to life strictly by market forces.

Richard Corliss, Time Magazine

Politically, Green Lantern could be a Tea Party recruitment video. It believes that the federal government is both omnipotent and inefficient, and that the country, nay the world, can be saved only by an individual hero — a Paul Revere out of Sarah Palin's mythology, who uses his lantern to warn the enemy that we will not give up our arms, especially such muscular ones.

Academy Changes Number of Best Picture Contenders, again

Today in Why Not Just Leave it the Hell Alone?, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (AMPAS) released a statement that said they will decrease (or keep the same, but not increase) the number of films that can be nominated for the Best Picture Oscar this year.

Instead of automatically nominating ten contenders, as they’ve pointlessly done for the past two years, the Academy will nominate no less than five, but no more than ten films this year.

According to AMPAS, this sigh-inducing change will require that a film receive at least five percent of the first-place votes during the first round of balloting to receive a Best Picture nomination. 

So, basically, expect to see anywhere from five to ten Best Picture nominees. 

This change, which appears to be more annoying than necessary, comes at time when there is no longer ten Best Picture-worthy American films made a year. Most people suspect that the Academy boosted the nominees to ten after The Dark Knight and Wall-e failed to land a Best Pic nomination in 2008.  Since doubling down, the coveted Best Picture award gave equal opportunity to films about helping a poor black teen simply because she’s a human being (Precious), and others about helping a poor black teen simply because he has the chance to be a superstar (The Blind Side).

And, as we’ve seen these past two years, whether it’s five or seven or ten, it matters little how many films are nominated for Best Picture. The winner, whether sentimentally forgettable (The King’s Speech) or daringly bold (The Hurt Locker), is typically agreed upon weeks before the envelope is open.

For argument’s sake, if the nominations were tomorrow, what would deserve to be nominated? For my money:

The Conspirator

Bridesmaids

Cave of Forgotten Dreams

Midnight in Paris

The Double Hour

The Tree of Life

Beginners

Super 8

Eight.  Not bad.  How many will be there come January?  Time will tell.