This Week in Why Bother: The Change-Up

Considering James Franco recently told Playboy that Rise of the Planet of the Apes was complete shit, I thought this week’s column of what not to see was a foregone conclusion.  But while that film, shockingly, garners mediocre-to-good reviews, let’s settle for a gentle thrashing of The Change-Up.  The only good comment I’ve heard about this film came from Judd Apatow, who’s, you know, screwing one of the film’s main stars.

Author names link to respective reviews.

The Change-Up: By the Numbers

Number of Times You’ve Seen Variations of this Movie: At least 5 (Freaky Friday, Trading Places, Big, Peggy Sue Got Married, Face/Off)

Rotten Tomatoes Approval Rating on Day of Release: 23%

Estimated hyperbolic budget: Couldn’t find it, but really, who gives a shit.

Roger Ebert, rogerebert.com

It has a low opinion of men, a lower opinion of women, and the lowest opinion of the intelligence of its audience... Anyone who enjoys this film cannot fairly be considered an adult. Pity about the R rating. It will keep out those callow enough to enjoy it.

Nathan Rabin, The A.V. Club

[Director] David Dobkin’s film has the faults of raucous recent scatological comedies like Bad Teacher, Horrible Bosses and The Hangover Part II, with none of their redeeming facets. It’s scattershot, sexist, and vulgar without being funny, a masturbatory fantasy for the Maxim set.

Peter Travers, Rolling Stone

Another body-switching comedy? Seriously? From the peaks of Big and Freaky Friday to the low of Vice Versa — Face/Off - being my guilty pleasure — we've seen it all. Really. We have. 

Ann Hornaday, The Washington Post

Dobkin seems not to have encouraged Bateman and Reynolds to try harder to inhabit each other's mannerisms and personae; once they switch, they don't really change, which feels like a lost opportunity for actors with their comic chops.

Claudia Puig, USA Today

It's one of the toughest tasks to make a consistently funny comedy, but so much of The Change-Up feels lazy and familiar…it's more often frat-boy crass, frantic and formulaic.

Another Earth

Movies like Another Earth are so incredibly depressing.  I don’t mean in terms of content, I mean in terms of execution. 

Let me explain.

Another Earth isn’t a depressing movie.  Some of the circumstances the characters find themselves in are upsetting, but it isn’t the film’s intention to bring you down.  So when I call a movie depressing based solely on implementation, it means the filmmakers have seriously screwed something up.  Which is the case here.

Another Earth is all concept, little follow through.  In the beginning of the film, 17-year-old Rhoda (Brit Marling, a natural) drives away from a party drunk and slams into a car, killing a pregnant female passenger and catapulting a little boy from the backseat to the asphalt.  (This isn’t done in gory detail; the film maintains its PG-13 rating well.)

Four years later, Rhoda is released from prison and soon makes it her goal to seek the driver of the car she hit and apologize.  Once she finds the driver, John (William Mapother, never better), now widowed and childless, she doesn’t have the stones to tell the truth, so she pretends to be a cleaning lady and tidies up his dump of a house.

Now, you’ll notice that I didn’t mention the titular second Earth that is so prominent in the film's trailer.  And that’s for good reason: because the other Earth has virtually nothing to do with the rest of the movie.

The other Earth was discovered the night of Rhoda’s accident, and by the time she’s out of jail, communication with the other planet has been established, and a space voyage is imminent.  This has the makings of a fantastic science fiction film.  An planet that appears to be an exact replica of ours rests in a galaxy not so far far away.  But instead of using that as its key element, the other Earth is treated simply as a gimmick. 

The planet is used as a way for Rhoda to rediscover herself, and it also, lamely, motivates her and John to become closer.  If it sounds flimsy, that’s because it is.  When a plot element is treated with such nonchalance, it could be replaced with damn near anything.  Instead of there being another Earth, Rhoda could learn the joys of backgammon.  She could choose to paint, or, adversely, discover the wonderment of, say, heroin.  It doesn’t matter what the gimmick is, because, evidently, it isn’t essential to the story.

Another Earth, however, is far from awful.  Brit Marling and William Mapother are remarkable in their respective roles.  The script (co-written by Marling) has them doing next to nothing (or doing things that are laughably unbelievable) but they somehow make it work.  And while he may want to learn the importance of delegating duties, director/writer/cinematographer/editor Mike Cahill deserves credit for doing all he did on such a slim budget (reported at $200,000).

Another Earth displays fragments of a great film. Its compelling premise is misused and misguided.  It’s usually not a good sign when the final scene of a movie paves way for a far more interesting film than the one we’ve just seen. C

Crazy, Stupid, Love.

Crazy, Stupid, Love tells three interconnected stories of three guys of different generations, and the methods in which they battle this crazy little thing called love.  Cal (Steve Carell) has just been informed by his wife of many years (Julianne Moore) that she’s been getting the bacon of an accountant (Kevin… you got it) and wants a divorce.  While in the midst of annoying youthful bar patrons with his drunken ramblings, Cal is noticed by Jacob (Ryan Gosling) a suave manwhore who decides to take Cal under his wing. 

Within a matter of weeks, Jacob pimps Cal out with designer clothes, a fresh haircut, and enough newfound confidence to lay most any dame.

The third story belongs to Robbie, Cal’s 13-year-old son, who is in love with Jessica, his 17-year-old babysitter, who is in love with Cal. Sigh.

So, herein lies the problem(s): Cal’s story is a perfectly amicable romantic dramedy, and the movie absolutely soars anytime Gosling is on screen.  Why then is so little time devoted to the Jacob character?  When we finally get to know something about Jacob, in an extended bedside chat he has with a newfound love (Emma Stone), it’s too late, and we’re left wishing the film had focused on him more.

Instead of giving Gosling ample screen time, Crazy, Stupid, Love wastes itself on the Robbie subplot.  The scenes, and there are many, in which Robbie tries to court Jessica are mildly cute, but nothing more.  Amidst the adultery and casual sex in the rest of the film, this subplot is extremely unneeded.  Likewise Jessica’s obsessive fascination with Cal.  In addition to being unessential, both stories border on pedophilia and, most importantly, are a complete bore.

In short, take out the kiddie distractions, and you’d have a pretty good film.  Director’s Glenn Ficarra and John Requa (who had similar plot structure issues with I Love You Phillip Morris) are completely in love with Ryan Gosling; the camera and script simply melt for Jacob.  His come-ons are as effortless as his mannerisms; whether he’s walking across a bar or eating a slice of pizza in a mall, he does it with the poise of a true badass.  Gosling is, I suppose, worth the price of admission alone.

Crazy, Stupid, Love can be summed up in one scene, a wham, bam, thank you ma’am culmination that pits every major cast member in a well-kept backyard.  The scene starts and carries on rather brilliantly, until it’s all but ruined by going completely absurdist slapstick.  Like the rest of the film, that scene would’ve been near-perfect had the directors not taken on too much and forced it to be something more.  C+

Cowboys & Aliens

Around the fourth or fifth instance that I checked the time during Cowboys & Aliens, Jon Favreau’s new, impossibly dull cross-genre action flick, I began to ponder where it all went wrong.

It wasn’t when dirty, aimless cowboy, Jake (Daniel Craig) woke up in an isolated field, unaware of where he was or why a large metal contraption was stuck around his wrist. It wasn’t when Jake rolled into a nameless town and made nice with the preacher. And although it annoyed me, I didn’t lose patience when the town screw-up Percy (Paul Dano) decided to drunkenly shoot up the town for no reason. And by shoot, I mean fire roughly 11 bullets… from a six-shooter… without reloading.

No. I lost all patience in Cowboys & Aliens soon after the town was attacked by the titular beings for the first time. With Jake and Percy shackled together in the back of a carriage, and the whole town standing idly as Percy’s gruff father (Harrison Ford) orders the Sherriff to release his son, aliens soon cast down on the town. They blow shit up, they nab people like a kid scooping up a stuffed animal with a metal claw, they kill, they mame, and then they’re gone.

Now, Cowboys & Aliens takes place a few years after the Civil War, and as far as I know, the word “aliens” didn’t even exist back then. So, is it fair to assume that if the word didn’t exist, the very notion of beings from other worlds didn’t exist either? Accepting all that, wouldn’t you be a little goddamn surprised if your town was randomly attacked by flying metal ships? Wouldn’t you, you know, have a discussion about it? No? How about if you fought a massive, slimy creature whose arms protrude through its chest?

Apparently the characters in Cowboys & Aliens have seen it all before, as not one single person mentions the aliens or their attacks. There’s no “what the hell was that?” “what the hell are those?” Nothing. It isn’t until the group is attacked for the third time that they finally have a conversation about what they’re fighting. And that conversation is so laughably convenient, it’s as if the five screenwriters all just threw up their hands and said, “fine, let’s just go with that”. The conversation is revealed in such a way that any feasible question the townspeople have about the aliens is dutifully (and accurately) answered. Gee, how expedient.

Now, you could take my grumbling as being nitpicky. So let’s move beyond the annoyances and plot holes. Cowboys & Aliens, more than any blockbuster of recent memory, is one of the most boring big-budget movies I’ve ever seen. At 118 minutes, it drags on and on and on and on. It’s a never-ending cycle of nonstop chatter, uninteresting action sequence, chatter, lame flashback, Harrison Ford grunting, chatter, action sequence, and so on.

This is a shame, because given the talented call sheet (Craig, Dano, Olivia Wilde, Sam Rockwell, Keith Carradine) and the capable crew, Cowboys & Aliens probably should’ve worked. Or at least worked better. And believe me, I’m not alone. At my showing I counted a total of eight walkouts. I’ve never walked out of a movie in my life, but I was damn close here. Based solely on boredom alone, I’d be likely to recommend any movie currently in theatres over this useless drivel. D-

the Directors: Steven Spielberg

It’s utterly impossible to have a serious conversation about film without mentioning Steven Spielberg.

However, in drafting this list, I was struck with something profound: I actually don’t care for a great deal of Spielberg’s movies.  For every classic, there seems to be a few letdowns.  Again, this argument is fruitless, given the fact that one name can be billed to so many indisputable masterpieces.

After a three year break from directing, Spielberg has two films set for December releases, a movie about our 16^th President next year, and Jurassic Park 4 in the pipeline.

For better or worse, here’s a breakdown of Spielberg’s entire storied career.  And be forewarned: fantasy/sci-fi isn’t my preferred genre, apathy will be common among these reviews.

Duel (1971)

Technically a TV movie, but one most definitely worth mentioning, as it paves clear way for the suspense Spielberg would soon capitalize on.  The plot is simple: a rushed businessman cuts off an 18-wheeler and is hence chased by the truck for the duration of the film.  Although the film has aged badly, and it relies too heavily on Murphy’s Law, Duel is still a breeze.  B

The Sugarland Express (1974)

A woman sneaks her husband out of a minimum security prison, in hopes of rescuing their child from his foster parents.  But the film isn’t in the destination, it’s in the journey, which goes on and on and on and on.  Lou Jean and Clovis kidnap a cop and are chased by about 200 more for what feels like an eternity.  If the film didn’t have a harrowing Goldie Hawn anchoring it, it would be all but forgotten. C-

Jaws (1975)

The first bona fide blockbuster remains as engrossing as it did upon its release, for exactly the same reasons.  A horribly frightening opening scene, credible acting, music that’s synonymous with terror, a delay of shock, and much more.  Famously, the shark was supposed to be in the film’s first scene, but Spielberg and his crew couldn’t get it to function.  The result spawned an immeasurable suspense that many horror films consider the standard: wait to show the villain, for that what we don’t see is that what we most fear.  A+

Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977)

During the making of this film, George Lucas visited the set and started complaining to Spielberg about a sci-fi flick he was working on.  They both agreed to give each other 1 percent of the total grosses of each other’s films.  Spielberg’s was a great success, while Lucas’ was the ultimate success.  My point is, Close Encounters is often out shadowed by Star Wars, which is understandable, seeing as how it’s the less flashy of the two.  Upon revisiting this film recently, I found myself oddly underwhelmed.  Its climax (thanks much in part to François Truffaut’s spirited performance) remains essential to the Spielberg name.  Overall, it feels long winded, but ultimately worth it.  B+

1941 (1979)

My god, what a truly awful film this is.  You know you’re desperate when you start making fun of your own work (a Jaws parody?  Really?).  1941, which, you’ll forgive me for not fully remembering, concerns a slew of annoying Californians and an impending Japanese invasion post-Pearl Harbor.  The movie is unconvincingly staged, laughably acted and just all around phoned in.  Not at all worthy of anyone’s time.  D

Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)

Well this isn’t going to gain me any friends.  I am not, nor ever will be, a fan of the Indiana Jones films.  I know this kind of speaking is sacrilege in some circles, but I cannot help it, they simply don’t do it for me.  I’ve tried time and time again (I’ve forced myself to watch all of them four times), and I always find myself counting the minutes until they’re done.  Of course, the opening of this film contains one of the most exciting openings in film history, but beyond that… I’ve never enjoyed the Kool-Aid that everyone else seems to swear by. C+

E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial (1982)

No matter what mood I’m in, or where I’m at, or what I’m doing, if I come across E.T. on television, I watch it through its duration.  E.T. is one of the few quintessential science fiction films ever made.  It is necessary and worthy on so many levels, digital effects being secondary among them.  Its acting redefined what children can bring to a picture, its music demonstrated how two mediums can work seamlessly together, and its story continues to move beyond words.  There quite simply isn’t enough praise you can throw at E.T.  It’s an essential American film, and, dare I say, the finest of Steven Spielberg’s career. A+ 

Twilight Zone: The Movie, Kick the Can (1983)

Often forgotten alongside John Landis and George Miller’s superior installments (about a bigot trapped in places he wishes he wasn’t, and a paranoid passenger spotting an alien at 20,000 feet, respectively), Spielberg’s small tale tells the story of an old man who discovers that by kicking a can around, he and his friends are instantly turned into playful youths.  It’s like Cocoon but dull.  C

Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984)

If you offered me a handsome sum of money to tell you what this movie is about, I couldn’t do it.  I honestly have no recollection concerning Temple of Doom.  Everytime I watch it, it seems to immediately escape from my mind, and without cheating (via IMDB or Wikipedia) I can only say that I’ve given the film its fair number of chances and it simply does not stick.  C-

The Color Purple (1985)

Spielberg’s first attempt to be taken seriously was a courteous misfire. Meaning, its heart is most definitely there, but the resulting film is a (mostly) sluggish bore with (mostly) bad acting and far too much exercised restraint.  It’s as if the movie wants to be bold, but is more concerned with shielding our eyes from all the bad stuff.  The Academy Awards confirmed this, nominating the film for 11 Oscars, and awarding it with nothing.  It was a gentle pat on the back.  A “better luck next time,” if you will.  C+

Empire of the Sun (1987)

Capturing yet another flawless adolescent acting performance (this time by a very young Christian Bale), Empire of the Sun takes its sweet time showing the hellishness of Japanese-occupied World War II, and its duration (a long two and a half hours) is ultimately worth the reward.  This can be credited to Bale and John Malkovich’s performances, among others.  Again, it’s as if Spielberg desperately wants to tell a brutal story, but doesn’t have the heart to show the full brutality.  That was coming, but it’s fair to consider Empire of the Sun another, albeit more successful, trial run.  A-

Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989)

This is the one with Sean Connery right?  And Nazis?  C-

Always (1989)

Another shit movie.  There’s really no other way to describe it.  While it isn’t as bad as 1941, Always is arguably Spielberg’s weakest and most forgettable film.  The movie, about a firefighting pilot who is killed in action, only to return as a curious ghost, rests solely on the shoulders of star Richard Dreyfuss.  And, unlike his previous efforts with Spielberg, Always turns Dreyfuss into a whiny mess.  One slight wave of redemption: Audrey Hepburn, in her final film role, as Dreyfuss’ fairy God mother.  D

Hook (1991)

After failing to be taken seriously, and relying too much on sentiment, Spielberg went straight kid all over again, with this revamped version of Peter Pan.  And while the casting is beyond spirited (Robin Williams lives up to the role, and I still, for the life of me, cannot recognize Dustin Hoffman behind that hair), the film runs a little too long, and bogs itself down with excessive dialogue.  Not a bad film, but get to the fun stuff already.  B-

Jurassic Park (1993)

Spielberg’s best film since E.T. brought dinosaurs back to life, scared and delighted both kids and adults equally, and reaffirmed his status as the go-to director for smart action thrills.  Jurassic Park is as entertaining as movies get; endlessly accessible and compulsively rewatchable.  Am I the only one who thinks Spielberg’s dinosaur robotics look more lifelike than, say, the CGI in Peter Jackson’s King Kong? A

Schindler’s List (1993)

In 1993, Spielberg delivered the greatest one-two punch in the history of American cinema.  Jurassic Park was released in the summer, and soon became the highest grossing film of all time.  Schindler’s List was released during Oscar season, and justly swept every major awards race.  While E.T. may be Spielberg’s finest accomplishment as a director, Schindler’s List is by far his most personal.  After half-assed attempts at convincing melodrama, Spielberg went all in with his holocaust drama.  The result is a perfect film, one that never feels dated, and remains incredibly difficult to stomach.  The ending of this film never fails to move me.  For the people out there who have been purposefully avoiding Schindler’s List: I understand your hesitation, but you’re missing out on a definitive American masterpiece. A+

The Lost World: Jurassic Park (1997)

This sequel has its moments (the dangling bus, the San Diego rampage, a campy Jeff Goldblum, a crazed Pete Postlethwaite) but it in no way delivers beyond its predecessor.  It’s better than Jurassic Park III (which Spielberg wisely declined to direct), but not at all necessary. Does anyone really think part four will be good?  Here’s to hoping.  B-

Amistad (1997)

Whether intentional or not, Spielberg was clearly trying to capitalize on the good fortune brought his way in 1993: one popcorn flick for them, on serious drama for me (he did this again in 2005, and he’s doing it this year).  Amistad starts off incredibly strong, and for good reason: it initially focuses on the slaves, not on white people trying to set the slaves free.  To be fair, his first action flick after Jurassic Park (no matter what it was) was bound to pale in comparison.  Similarly, no dramatic film can really live up to Schindler’s List.  But Amistad is overlong and consistently sluggish.  Djimon Hounsou and Anthony Hopkins are terrific, and if their roles were more prominent, the movie would’ve received a more welcoming reception.  C+

Saving Private Ryan (1998)

Upon release, Saving Private Ryan became an instant war film classic, and was justly touted as the best war film ever made, a shoe-in for an Oscar sweep (it isn’t and it wasn’t, more on that here).  It’s true, Saving Private Ryan deserves every bit of acclaim that it continues to receive.  Its D-Day invasion sequence remains one of the most gut-wrenching scenes in film history.  But, as with all of Spielberg’s great films, the true beauty of the picture is found in its silences.  Such as when Tom Hanks cowers behind a hill to cry in solitude, or Edward Burns nods acceptingly at Matt Damon before they’re attacked. Like Jaws, E.T. and Schindler’s List, Saving Private Ryan is an integral part of the American cinematic landscape. A+

A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001)

A.I. was Stanley Kubrick’s brain child for decades.  He was waiting for the moment when technology caught up with his vision (he wanted to use actual robots, not actors).  But in the late ‘90s, frustrated that he wouldn’t be able to implement his strict vision, he passed the project to his good friend, Steven Spielberg.  After Kubrick’s sudden death, Spielberg made A.I. his next project, resulting in a science fiction masterpiece that would have been greatly admired by his departed friend.  I love everything about A.I.  I love its three act structure (family, escape, serenity), the acting (Haley Joel Osment high off The Sixth Sense, Jude Law high off The Talented Mr. Ripley, plus William Hurt and Frances O’Connor), and its eco-future premise (that parts of Earth are underwater due to melted ice caps). Everytime I watch it, I fall into its world with such ease; always the mark of a great film.  A

Minority Report (2002)

Where A.I. focused on the sentimentality of our future, Minority Report, rather brilliantly, chronicles the dark side of our futuristic human nature.  Living in a world in which murders can be seen, and stopped, beforehand, Minority Report shows how the system could work, but not without a little sacrifice of independence.  Tom Cruise, in a rare, post-Magnolia great performance, perfectly embodies Chief John Anderton.  And while I may not always care what he’s doing (the film does get temporarily bogged down with a weak back story of Cruise’s kidnapped son), it’s damn fun to see how he gets there. A

Catch Me If You Can (2002)

Spielberg’s throwback to the Golden Era of pre-Vietnam – a time when the music was jazzy, the women were dolled-up, the men wore hats, and the drinks flowed like wild – is always a breeze to take in, thanks much in part to Jeff Nathanson’s shifty screenplay and evolving performances by Leonardo DiCaprio and Christopher Walken.  But, as Spielberg often has a tendency to do, the film tries to cram too much in.  Take out some of the subplots and side schemes (thus eliminating 20 minutes or so of its 141 minute runtime) and the movie would undoubtedly flow better.  The pacing isn’t a major problem in Catch Me If You Can, but it was obviously a hint at what was to come.  A-

The Terminal (2004)

The biting-off-more-than-he-can-chew pacing troubles couldn’t be more evident than in The Terminal.  The premise, based on a real man who was stuck in a French airport due to diplomatic nightmares, is unique, and the presentation is delightful.  In terms of craft, The Terminal is damn near flawless, with John Williams’ score matched effortlessly with Janusz Kaminski’s photography, all under the guidance of Alex McDowell’s expansive set design.  But the movie simply takes on too much: the Trekie bit, the disgruntled janitor, Catherine Zeta-Jones; just focus on Viktor, limit the rest.  B

War of the Worlds (2005)

Here’s the quick breakdown of War of the Worlds: great action scenes, bad everything else.  Well, okay… Dakota Fanning is good, and the movie flows well.  But Tom Cruise is seriously overselling here and Tim Robbins’ cameo is utterly disastrous.  And the end (both on the human and alien side) is laughable.  A good action flick, but not much more. B-

Munich (2005)

Much like Schindler’s List, Munich is a movie that takes its damn sweet time moving along, but the lasting result is a film of indelible power.  The film is a series of set pieces: we get much needed exposition dialogue, followed by a harrowing action sequence, most of which draw fair comparison to Hitchcock.  The opening Olympic hostage sequence is so authentic, it feels like were actually there, and when Jim McKay says “they’re all gone,” it’s as if he’s telling us directly.  Munich is a great, patient film; a necessary component to the Spielberg name. A

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008)

At least this time around I have some people in my corner.  Seriously, Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is completely ridiculous.  And I’m not just saying that as a naysayer of the Indy franchise, I’m saying it as a film enthusiast.  Escaping a nuclear bomb in a refrigerator, Shia LaBeouf, aliens (wtf?)… we should probably all just forget this ever happened.  D-

The Adventures of Tintin: The Secret of the Unicorn (Dec. 23, 2011)

Spielberg has two films set for Oscar-bait releases this year.  First is The Adventures of Tintin, Spielberg’s first animated flick, which he collaborated with Peter Jackson on, followed by…

War Horse (Dec. 28, 2011)

Which looks just plain dumb to me.  More on this here.  Will Spielberg achieve financial and critical success with the “one for them, one for me” model he perfected in 1993?  We shall see.

In summation:

Masterful

Jaws

E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial

Schindler’s List

Saving Private Ryan

A.I. Artificial Intelligence

Minority Report

Munich

Great

Close Encounters of the Third Kind

Empire of the Sun

Jurassic Park

Catch Me If You Can

Good

Duel

Raiders of the Lost Ark

The Color Purple

Hook

The Lost World: Jurassic Park

Amistad

The Terminal

War of the Worlds

Eh

The Sugarland Express

Twilight Zone: The Movie, Kick the Can

Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom

Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade

Just Plain Bad

1941

Always

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

There’s Something Wrong with Aunt Diane

Last night, when I was about halfway through HBO’s searing documentary There’s Something Wrong with Aunt Diane, I tweeted that the film was “riveting as all hell.”  Little did I know that my scale of rivet would be drastically altered by the film’s conclusion.

Every Monday night, HBO airs a new film as part of their Documentary Films Summer Series, and damn if some of them haven’t been great.  The first I saw was Hot Coffee, which examines four popular cases, highlighting areas in each that you may be unfamiliar with.  For example: you probably think the woman who sued McDonald’s after she spilled hot coffee on herself was just some quack trying to make a buck.  Well, did you ever see the pictures of what the coffee did to her skin?

Next was Sex Crimes Unit, a hard-to-stomach look at the day-to-day workings of the New York’s Sex Crime Unit, which overseas roughly 300 pending sex crimes cases every day.

While Hot Coffee and Sex Crimes Unit have managed to linger in my head since I viewed them, I suspect There’s Something Wrong with Aunt Diane will continue to haunt me for weeks.

Two years ago yesterday, Diane Schuler, a 36-year-old “hyper-perfect mother” and hard-working professional, packed her minivan full of kids (two of her own and three nieces) and headed home after camping in upstate New York.  Four hours later, she drove the wrong way on the Taconic State Parkway for 1.7 miles, eventually hitting another car, killing herself and seven others.  Days later, Diane’s toxicology report revealed she had had roughly 10 alcoholic drinks and an extremely high level of THC, the active ingredient in marijuana, in her blood at the time of the crash.

Diane’s family, particularly her husband, Danny, and sister-in-law, Jay, immediately cried foul.  Diane, her husband tells us, rarely drank and would have never put the kids at risk under any circumstance.  Other family members agree, but as more facts begin to reveal themselves, our perception of the accident begins to curve as well.

By seeking permission from the Shulers to film their story, it initially appears that director Liz Garbus is siding with the family; believing their every word.  But as the film progresses, we realize that isn’t the case at all.  At one point, Garbus (off camera) asks Jay what she hopes to gain from doing another set of toxicology tests.  Jay says she wants answers; she wants to prove that Diane wasn’t on drugs or alcohol.  “And if the results come back the same as before?” Garbus asks.  “Well… yeah… that’s what has me worried,” Jay responds.

This denial of evidence is not only what the film relies on for dramatic merit, it’s what keeps the film in evocative motion.

Danny and Jay assert that Diane hardly drank, why then was a smashed bottle of vodka found in the van after the crash?  Danny admits that Diane used marijuana rarely as a way to relax, Jay says she used it liberally.  If Diane couldn’t see the road while driving (as the kids in the van told their other relatives via cell phone), why didn’t she simply pull over?  Why did Diane stop just after a toll booth on the Tappan Zee Bridge and leave her cell phone on the side of the road?  And what, most obviously, caused her to drive 70 miles per hour the wrong way on a major highway?

The Shuler's minivan after the crash

While the film implores dozens of interviews – from renowned psychologists, witnesses, friends, relatives of victims, police investigators, celebrity lawyers,  toxicology experts – we’ll most likely never know the answers to those questions.

The black and white is: Diane Shuler, the $100,000 a year breadwinner who was by all accounts a dedicated “supermom,” killed eight people that day.  She had no history of alcohol or drug abuse, no history of depression, and no signs of a chemical imbalance.  She rarely discussed her personal life and was assumed to function well at a high level of stress.  She was a perfect mom, and a devoted wife.  But as Garbus told HBO: “Life is often messy.  We want answers.  We want black and white, but often times the truth lies in the gray.”

I’ve rarely seen the explorations of that gray to be as haunting as it is in There’s Something Wrong with Aunt Diane.  This is a disturbing film.  From the eyewitness calls of panic in seeing a minivan drive the wrong way on a highway, to the calls of sheer terror at the scene of the collision, to gruesome photos of the accident, to the tearful memories of what was, and what will never be. 

If you have HBO, I implore you to watch this film (OnDemand or otherwise).  In a year already filled with fantastic theatrical documentaries, the best one yet is airing on premium cable television. A

For more about the film, click here.

What’s With All the Lame Trailers? - Part II

Dream House – to be released Sept. 30

Christ how many times have we seen this movie? Haunted house, mistaken identity/lapsed personality; it’s the same old song, expect now with better actors and an acclaimed director.  Which is what I most take issue with.  After a string of modern classics (My Left Foot, In the Name of the Father, The Boxer, In America) Jim Sheridan has been seriously striking out.  His choice to helm Get Rich or Die Tryin’ still has me scratching my head and Brothers was a complete waste of time, despite some solid performances.  Here’s his take on The Madman Must Be Sane.

Haywire – to be released Jan. 20

Okay, this looks like a perfectly decent, clichéd action thriller with a great cast, but much like Contagion, the Haywire trailer reveals the presumed death of a main character.  Gwyneth Paltrow I can take, but offing Michael Fassbender in the trailer!?  What gives?  And just listen to that Lem Dobbs dialogue:

“Hmm, I don’t think so.”

“Is the divorce final?”

“I haven’t shut my eyes since you were born.”

To be fair, this is Steven Soderbergh, which means I’ll be in the theatre regardless.  And... Gina Carano does look pretty badass.

The Amazing Spider-Man – to be released July 3, 2012

Am I the only person who laughed their ass off when they first saw this?  Everything was going fine – the talented cast, the dark photography – until 1:43, when an extended POV sequence made my jaw drop in stunned humiliation.  This is aiming to be one of the biggest movies of 2012 but it looks like the filmmakers have completed their special effects using PowerPoint motion graphics. 

I’ll be the first to admit that the shot is unique, but the execution is laughable.  I’ve seen better graphics from most video game systems made today.  Hopefully, they’re doing what the original Spider-Man trailer did: shooting something specifically for the preview, and not including it in the final film.

Loyal readers were fired up about my initial post, in which I lambasted a slew of new trailers.  Many agreed with me, many thought I was being too harsh.  So in closing, I’d like to offer two superb trailers for two upcoming big budget movies.  The first makes me interested in a movie I could care less about; the second makes me count the days until Dec. 21.  The feel bad movie of Christmas?  See you there.

Friends with Benefits

Which is worse: a movie that follows the formula of its genre to a T, or a movie that makes fun of the formula only to end up following it exactly?

The former describes No Strings Attached, the incredibly idiotic friends with benefits romantic comedy that came out in January, the latter describes Friends with Benefits, the pretty decent friends with benefits romantic comedy that came out on Friday.

No Strings Attached, for better or worse, never pretended to be anything more than it was.  And honestly, I can respect that.  The main fault of Friends with Benefits is that, by slapping it with an R rating, it pretends to be something much better than it is, which is a formulaic romantic comedy.  Period.

So why then does the film, mostly, work?  The same reason director Will Gluck’s last film Easy A did: the cast.  Easy A, while being restrained with a PG-13 rating, was effortlessly witty and made worthy by the performances of Emma Stone, Patricia Clarkson and Stanley Tucci.  Friends with Benefits simply ups the ante: the sex is raunchier, the language is more colorful, and the stars shine brighter.

The timing couldn’t be better for Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis to be in a movie together.  They’re both coming off game-changing performances that (probably) should’ve landed them Oscar nominations, but have instead made them legitimate movie stars.  And in Friends with Benefits (which, come on, doesn’t really need a thorough plot description) they reaffirm their star power, and assert themselves as serious players in the A-list game.  SNL and Family Guy proved, respectively, that both of them could be funny, but it’s nice to see that their unique brand of humor (i.e. blunt as all hell) can sustain a two hour film.

In short, Timberlake and Kunis, and their terrific chemistry, carry this otherwise generic film.  But they’ve got help, as most of the supporting performances are scene stealing wonders.  After a pair of excellent, pre-credit cameos (which you probably already know about, but I see no need in mentioning here), the film features Clarkson, Jenna Elfman (where the hell has she been?), Woody Harrelson (hysterical as a GQ queen), and Richard Jenkins (the man can simply do no wrong).

I want to make specific mention of a scene that has nothing to do with what I’ve written, but simply deserves recognition.  Many scenes in this film take place in a bedroom, the most memorable is an extended conversation in which the camera begins at the foot of the bed, and slowly tracks its way up to the two stars’ faces.  In a genre filled with over-caffeinated editing, it is wholly refreshing to just stop and observe.  It’s a great, tender moment, shot with perfect restraint; unlike anything I’ve seen in a romantic comedy in the past several years.

As mentioned, it would’ve been nice if (spoiler… I guess) the film didn’t follow the same stock clichés as every other romcom, but I suppose this journey was more enjoyable than others, given that the destination is always the same.  B

Captain America: The First Avenger

By now, most of us know that we have to suspend a few beliefs in order to enjoy a movie featuring a super hero.  The beliefs of say, physics, gravity, chemistry, and logic, just to name a few.  I’m completely fine giving up all those notions as they relate to the super hero in question, but here’s my problem: when a super hero movie is rooted in reality (as so many now are, thanks to Christopher Nolan and his truth-seeking ways), then why is reality completely disregarded once the super hero attains his powers? 

If you like these sorts of films, then you’ll undoubtedly enjoy Captain America.  You’ll enjoy, yet again, another weakling-to-global-hero story, another the-geek-gets-the-girl quest, another look-I-just-discovered-my-new-powers montage, and so on.

Me, I need them about as much as I need a Katy Perry song, which is to say, not at all.  So when I walk into a flick like Captain America, I’m more than willing to suspend the fact-based scientific notions mentioned earlier, but I do feel the need to nitpick.

Captain America begins at the dawn of America’s involvement in WWII.  And while every able man is enlisting, scrawny asthmatic Steve Rogers (Chris Evans, rail-thin behind Benjamin Button-style computer graphics) can’t fight against the spread of Nazism due to his diminutive stature.  He is soon recruited by a German scientist (played by American Stanley Tucci) to undergo an operation that involves a lot of injections of blue liquid, thus becoming a “super soldier.”  After the operation, Rogers, now big and strong and fast and able, is soon off saving the world by stopping a rouge Nazi (played by Brit Hugo Weaving… why weren’t German actors cast in the German roles?  I suppose Christoph Waltz is through playing Nazis).

Now, before Rogers’ transformation to Captain America, the film itself appears to be rooted in some sort of reality, or at least the hyper-stylized one that director Joe Johnston (Honey I Shrunk the Kids, Jumanji) is often so fond of.  War bonds are sold tirelessly, soldiers take orders from commanding officers, military operation rooms appear to be, kind of, normal, etc.  But once Captain America starts flinging his giant shield around like a fatal Frisbee, all logic is suspended.  Suddenly, every room involving military action is some sort of giant fortress, soldiers disregard orders like kids ignoring the dinner bell, and everyone who is associated with Captain America is as invincible as he is.

Which brings me to my last point.  Why is it that once Rogers becomes Captain America, everyone else around him apparently becomes a super hero too?  (I don’t hold a doctorate in physics, but I’m pretty sure if you’re traveling 15 mph on a zip line and you try to jump on top of a train going in excess of 50 mph, you’ll not only break your legs, but you’ll, you know, bounce off, too.)

Much like Thor (actually, exactly like Thor) Captain America is the latest circle-jerk that will inevitably result in the geek-boy fantasy come to film known as The Avengers.  And despite the current domestic crazed (or is it maniac) fascination with super hero movies, I’m actually looking forward to that film.  Captain America, like Thor and Iron Man II, doesn’t feel like a film that can live on its own.  It’s part of something bigger.  Here’s to hopping the waiting is worth it.  C

Note: The best part of Captain America takes place after the credits, so stick around.   

The Trip

There’s a scene late in The Trip, Michael Winterbottom’s new, hilariously off-the-cuff road comedy, where one character stands by the passenger side of a car, waiting for the driver to unlock the door.  The man stands there, patiently, and once the driver is within earshot, the passenger reminds him politely to open the car.  “Oh, I thought I had,” the driver replies.  He unlocks the car, they both get in, and off they go.

If this scene seems unnecessary or slight, that’s because, on the surface, it is.  But for the duration of the film, I couldn’t get this scene out of my head.  Why did Winterbottom include this?  What was its significance?  It hit me much later: the scene, however simple, demonstrates the random shuffle of human behavior.  It’s significant because it happens in life, and that’s the only reason.  As Ricky Jay reminds us in Magnolia, these strange things happen all the time.

The Trip is filled with moments exactly like this one.  That doesn’t mean it’s a boring film full of inconsequential sequences.  No, far from it.  The Trip is hysterical, thought provoking, and strangely moving.  It’s a significant film that highlights human insignificance.

British actor Steve Coogan (played by Steve Coogan) is tasked by a magazine to conduct a food tasting tour around rural England.  When his American girlfriend (Margo Stilley) bails out at the last second, Steve invites fellow thespian Rob Brydon (played by Rob Brydon) to join him.  Minutes into their trip, utter hilarity ensues. 

Now, here’s where it gets tricky.  Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon are indeed actors in real life.  You know Coogan from The Other Guys, Tropic Thunder, Hamlet 2 and more.  Brydon is not as well known here, but is widely popular in his native UK.  In The Trip, they appear to be playing hyperbolic versions of themselves, much like Larry David does on Curb Your Enthusiasm. 

Before long, we are privy to the conversations Steve and Rob have over lavishly posh food.  Rob, it appears, has made a name for himself as an impressionist, and he often breaks into different voices with no notice.  Whether Rob does his impressions very well (he does a killer Michael Caine and Woody Allen) or not good at all (Al Pacino, Sean Connery), the point is that he’s doing them.  And if they aren’t annoying the shit out of Steve, then they’re making him jealous.  In summation, the film is essentially about two colleagues who continually try to one-up each other through different facets of their comedic craft.

This method, I assume, was achieved through countless hours of on-camera improvisation, resulting in what will end up as one of the funniest films this year.

Throughout Winterbottom’s layered career, he has directed films that are very good (24 Hour People), very sexual (9 Songs), very bad (The Killer Inside Me) and very gut wrenching (A Mighty Heart), but never has he directed a film as uproarious as The Trip.

I’ve only touched on the comedic aspects of the film, but there is indeed something else lurking here, which would be a shame to indulge further on.  I will say that, like most comedians, Steve Coogan, the character, is using comedy as a way to escape himself, to bury his personal angst.  This doesn’t reveal itself in obvious ways, but in the end, Coogan’s sinking solitude is what stayed with me. 

Everyone can recall a time when they had to put on a happy face and act like they weren’t upset. Some of us even put on a show around people to achieve some sense of normalcy.  There’s a great line in Terrence Malick’s The Thin Red Line that I think Steve, the character, would identify with.  When asked if he’s ever lonely, his response might be similar to Sean Penn’s in Malick’s film: “Yeah, only around people.”  Afterall, what’s lonelier than being around people and trying not to act lonely? A

For The Trip showtimes, click here.

Stop Complaining About the Dark Knight Rises Teaser

When The Dark Knight Rises teaser trailer (finally) arrived online a few days ago (yes, those of us who refused to see Harry Potter 7.2 had to wait), the blogosphere went into a battling frenzy of comic book boy wetdreams vs. analytical fans.

People, people, this is a teaser.  It’s meant to, you know, tease and allure you.  Not that this final installment of Christopher Nolan’s disarming Batman trilogy needs any help, but still.

And if people aren’t bitching, then they’re scrutinizing.  MTV, Entertainment Weekly, and countless blogs are taking the time to analyze every frame of the teaser.  That’s a lot of work for something that lasts roughly a minute and a half.

Sure, the teaser for Batman Begins showed a little more than its successors, because the filmmakers were actually trying to convince people that their comic book movie was going to be different.  It was, which explains why The Dark Knight teaser was so ominous, and showed virtually nothing.

In short, let’s all just hold our horses and not get all wound up over a messily trailer.  We’ve got a year to go, people.

Batman Begins teaser:

The Dark Knight teaser:

The Dark Knight Rises teaser:

Page One: Inside the New York Times

On the surface, Page One: Inside the New York Times details issues that have been beaten to death: the print media news model is dying, blogging is huge, and WikiLeaks may have singlehandedly catapulted social media into the big leagues, demonstrating how unnecessary (and outdated) a New York Times newspaper is when it arrives on your doorstep.

But director Andrew Rossi’s documentary isn’t concerned with chronicling crusty old journalists’ inability to keep up.  There’s no “Err, what the hell is this Twitter thing?!”  Instead, Page One shows the rat race that the Times staffers face to beat an immeasurably bigger empire: that of online media.

Page One mostly follows around the Times’ media desk and their fight to, 1.) be accurate, 2.) be first, 3.) be on the front.  It’s astonishing, for instance, that when the New York Times first got wind of Julian Assange’s game-changing WikiLeaks, the media desk editors had to fight and claw their way to make it a page one story.

Now, I can fully understand how this all may sound… well, boring.  A bunch of newspaper editors bitching about how their story is better than their colleagues’.  But Page One is far from dull.  Its scope is massive, which turns out to be its best and worst attribute. 

Best of all the Times personalities we meet is David Carr, an ex crack addict with a wicked wit, and a limited tolerance for bullshit.  Watching Carr ream out a source he’s interviewing (who has unwisely insulted the Times) is jaw dropping.  The man curses, raises his voice, slams on his keyboard, and out articulates everyone in the room.  Basically, he’s the antijournalist.  And if he wasn’t so goddamn good at his job, I’m sure he’d be out of one.

Carr’s personality is enough to fill this entire 88 minute film; he’s the most engrossing, and by far the staffer with the most lasting power.  In hindsight, I wish Rossi would’ve limited his scope, and focused solely on Carr.  Maybe I’m wrong.  Maybe Carr’s story can’t sustain an entire feature length documentary.  Regardless, Carr’s scenes are the most memorable.  When he’s off screen, you’re waiting for him to come back.

The rest of the film, wisely, does its best to not take a stance.  For every staffer praising the necessity of print media, there are five people who urge that social media is the way to go. 

Page One may not open your eyes to what you already know is coming, but it does a damn fine job of chronicling how it got there, and where it's probably going. A-

Tabloid

Exhibit A: In 1977, Joyce McKinney, a former pin-up model and Miss Wyoming winner, fell in love with Kirk Anderson, a conservative Mormon who, despite his strict religious upbringing, fell hard for McKinney. Weeks later, Anderson was ordered by his fellow Mormons to move to England, abandoning his ties with McKinney, and reaffirming his faith.  Days later, McKinney came to England, rescued Anderson, drove him to a cottage hundreds and miles away, and made passionate love to him for three days.  When the two returned to England, they soon learned that Anderson had been declared missing, so he turned himself in and was convinced by the Mormons to say McKinney had kidnapped and raped him.

Or.

Exhibit B: In 1977, Joyce McKinney, a former pin-up model and Miss Wyoming winner, fell in love with Kirk Anderson, a conservative Mormon who, despite his strict religious upbringing, fell into a mutual courtship with McKinney.  Weeks later, Anderson was sent on his Mission (a duty of all Mormons) to England, abandoning McKinney and reaffirming his faith.  Days later, McKinney came to England, kidnapped Anderson at gun point, drove him to a cottage hundreds of miles away, tied him to a bed, and forced him to have sex with her for three days.  When the two returned to England, Anderson turned himself in the minute he could and told police and his church that McKinney had kidnapped and raped him.

There’s a common maxim which states that there are three sides to every story: Yours, Theirs, and The Truth.  Exhibit A is, more or less, McKinney’s version of the events that made her a tabloid sensation.  Exhibit B is, more or less, the adverse spin on the story that we get from other principals involved. Who’s right?  Who’s wrong?  I’m not entirely sure. And this being an Errol Morris documentary, that isn’t really the point, anyway.

Errol Morris, who shares the title of best living documentarian with his mentor, Werner Herzog, never seeks to differentiate fact from fiction, truth from reality.  He gets subjects in front of a camera and lets them speak, often showing reenactments of their version of the story.  And, because people are people – meaning they remember and reflect the same event in different ways – Morris’s films often show many versions of the same story.

Are the people of Vernon, Florida really cutting off their limbs to cash in on their insurance policies?  Did Randall Adams really deserve to be on death row for the murder of a police officer?  (No, as The Thin Blue Line discovered, he did not, and he was later acquitted.)  Were the soldiers who tortured prisoners at Abu Ghraib really just following Standard Operating Procure?

To Morris, I believe, the truth isn’t as interesting as the reason.  We may not ever know why McKinney did what she did (Anderson wisely declined to be interviewed for the film) but that doesn’t mean that Tabloid isn’t one of the most entertaining documentaries you’re likely to see this year. On top of telling compelling stories, Morris is a master filmmaker.  He’s help shift the perception within the genre that documentaries can too be technically flawless, in addition to telling a striking story.

Tabloid wastes not one second of the viewer’s time. At 87 minutes, it’s paced swiftly while still making room for some lingering questions.  McKinney’s story (which she recorded for Morris during a single day) is incredible in and of itself.  But with a master behind the wheel, it becomes riveting. A-

For Tabloid showtimes, click here