The Wrestler

Like any great movie, The Wrestler opens with a bang. Only this explosion is far more subtle than what you’re expecting. For the first few minutes of the film, the camera stays tight on our protagonist’s back. The audience moves around in their seats, trying to get a glimpse at that battered face. When we finally do see Randy ‘The Ram’ Robinson, we’re reminded of the once Brando-esque good looks Mickey Rourke used to have. His fine features now buried under smashed cheekbones and a bruised nose. This is how you begin to care about a character. Darren Aronofsky’s The Wrestler is a 21st century masterpiece. It’s a simple story about a once glorious professional wrestler who is now a self proclaimed “broken down piece of meat”. Randy’s life has been wasted on women, drugs, booze, and all that comes with the price of fame. He has no real relationships to speak of, and barely enough money to pay the rent on his trailer. He gets wrestling gigs when he can, at elementary schools or community centers, but for the most part, he lives quietly and alone. It’s hard not to see the parallels in Randy and Rourke. Rourke exploded on the screen in the early 80’s, giving wrenching performances in Body Heat, Diner and Rumble Fish. Soon he became the sex icon of his generation, heating up the screen in 9 ½ Weeks, Angel Heart and Wild Orchid. In 1991 he quit acting to become a boxer, something he wasn’t good at given the amount of facial reconstruction he’s gone through. He’s recently found himself in smaller, but noticeable roles in films like Man on Fire and Sin City. But now, the notoriously difficult actor delivers the role of a lifetime. Rourke gives Randy more than a heart, he gives him a spirit. Randy is a kind man despite the pathetic circumstances in which he lives. When he’s not strapped in tights, battling other men, he works at a local grocery store, keeping to himself. He frequents a strip club where his only real “friend” is a stripper named Cassidy (Marisa Tomei). It’s Cassidy that convinces Randy to get back in touch with his daughter that can’t stand him (Evan Rachel Wood). When he’s in the ring, Randy goes through the cheorgraphed steps that he and his competitor have developed beforehand backstage. But even though the moves are fake and expected, the pain is not. Think staple guns, chairs, windows and barbed wire. I can only say good things about this movie and the performances. In his scenes with Wood, Rourke is a tender revelation, wanting nothing more than to reconnect with a person he admittedly abandoned. Tomei has great chemistry with Rourke, their characters lead similar lives: sad, ashamed, and even using fake names that sound pleasing to customers. Aronofsky has always shocked. His Pi, Requiem for a Dream and The Fountain are great experiments in narrative filmmaking. The Wrestler is his most simple film to date, not to mention his best. He fought hard to cast Rourke as Randy (the studios wanted a bankable star), and man how it has paid off. An Oscar for Best Actor seems like too small a gift for Rourke. This performance is one of the best of this or any year. Years from now, it will be studied by film students and remembered by everyone who sees it. He, along with Tomei and Wood, give the best performances of their career. There is one downside to The Wrestler. Much in the way of The Dark Knight, The Wrestler is being overshadowed by a performance. People talk about the Joker more than they do about the movie. Everyone who sees The Wrestler will associate greatness to Rourke’s performance. But it’s a performance stuck in the middle of a brilliant film. Remember the camera shots used to highlight Randy’s physique, the grainy texture of the film itself, and the supporting performances that help accentuate Rourke’s. This is one of the best films of the year, which just happens to boast one of the very best screen performances of recent memory. A+ Note: Stay for the credits to hear Bruce Springsteen’s original, fantastic title song. It’ll be a sin if he doesn’t win the Best Song Oscar.

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Gran Torino

Who’s better than Clint Eastwood? I’ve said it before, but really, who has a better success story than he does? He said Unforgiven was going to be the last time he directed himself, a retirement he quickly gave up. He said the same thing four years ago with Million Dollar Baby and now again with Gran Torino. I don’t mind when Eastwood breaks his promises, as long as he keeps delivering such impeccable work.

Gran Tornio is unlike anything he’s ever done. Eastwood plays Walt Kowalski, a bigoted Korean War vet who meanders through life by staying angry and drunk. His once pleasant neighborhood in Detroit has fallen victim to gangs and violence.
Walt isn’t a guy you really like. He’s mean to just about everyone, doesn’t speak a sentence without barking a racial slur and has nothing but contempt for an honest, young priest. When he catches his neighbor, a Hmong teenager, trying to steal his prized Gran Tornio, Walt wants blood.

Soon he forges a friendship with the kid, while accidently becoming a protector of the neighborhood from a tough gang. Imagine the rest, because that’s all I’m going to give you. The joy of an Eastwood film is discovering the subtle surprises that he has in store for us.

The action scenes in the film come seldom yet quick. Most of Eastwood’s films have moments of extreme violence, but he is one of the few filmmakers who pulls it off tastefully. He doesn’t insult his audience by showing gratuitous acts of torture, instead he trust us enough to elaborate ourselves.

Walt is a bold move for Eastwood. He’s like Dirty Harry meets the Man With No Name, meets Frankie Dunn from Million Dollar Baby. A real contemporary badass that we aren’t too sure we like. As Walt, Eastwood delivers the best acting of his career. I’m a great admirer of his work and I can honestly say that I have not seen better. The film as a whole, while great, isn’t as good as Mystic River or Million Dollar Baby, but it does hold its own.

Listen to the first few bars of the title song over the end credits. Yup, that’s the old man alright, still going strong at 78 years old. If we don’t see Eastwood again on screen, then that’s fine by me, because damn, what a hell of a way to go. A

Doubt

Based on his Pulitzer Prize winning play, John Patrick Shanley’s Doubt is as prevalent as ever, regardless of its setting. The year after JFK was killed, officials at a Catholic school in the Bronx started diving into some very bad things. Principal Sister Aloysius (Meryl Streep) begins to suspect Father Flynn (Philip Seymour Hoffman) of some serious misconduct involving the only black student at the school. Sister James (Amy Adams) is the one who first aroused the suspicion, after seeing the disheveled boy return to her class from a visit with Father Flynn. To say any more, is really giving too much away. This isn’t a great film, but it answers a lot of the questions it asks, only to have them raised yet again. You’re never really sure what to believe, a good credit to give the film. While the movie feels a little too slow with its deliberate pacing, the performances are top notch. Amy Adams brings a quiet complexity to her shy character, and Philip Seymour Hoffman goes pound off pound in the heated arguments with Streep, he’ll be Heath Ledger’s only real competition for Best Supporting Actor this year. (Note: Hoffman won Best Actor for Capote in 2005, beting Ledger in Brokeback Mountain). Meryl Streep has been nominated 14 times for an Oscar, with two wins. I’ve questioned sometimes if she deserves the nomination, but forDoubt, she deserves to win. This veteran actress will make your blood chill with her extended monologues and uncertain behavior. She is a heavyweight at the top of her game, what’s better than that? One, little, small thing. Doubt does drag a little, sure, but once Viola Davis steps on the screen as the boy’s mother, the fire of fury is ignited. A great character actor, Davis has stolen scenes in World Trade Center, Antwone Fisher, Far From Heaven, and on and on. She’s in only one scene in Doubt but that scene is the best acting she’s ever done. Watch Streep’s face as Davis really tells her about her son. It’s shockingly brilliant. She’ll be the front runner for Best Supporting Actress. Too bad the film can’t match its actors’ bravado. B

Listen to my podcast on Philip Seymour Hoffman

Frost/Nixon

After Richard Nixon had disgraced himself by lying to the country and eventually resigning as President, he retired to his California beachside mansion to play golf. Years later, swanky British TV journalist, Robert Frost sought Nixon for an exclusive one-on-one interview. Frost’s road wasn’t easy, but after forking over nearly 2 million of his own money, he got the sit-down he wanted.

Ron Howard’s Frost/Nixon is the most enthralling piece of cinema this year. At two hours long, you’ll be gripping the armrest in excitement. Peter Morgan (writer of The Queen) adapts his play using the same actors, a rare feat from a stage to screen adaptation.

Frank Langella, who won the Tony Award for playing Nixon on stage, is better than you may have heard. He doesn’t impersonate Nixon, he embodies him. You’ve seen Langella in Good Night and Good Luck and Superman Returns among other supporting turns, but as Nixon, he delivers a career best. He’ll get nominated for the Oscar, giving Sean Penn and Mickey Rourke some tough competition.

While Langella is a triumph, the real star of the film is Michael Sheen, who plays Frost. The trials and tribulations of Frost’s journey are at the center of the film. He played Tony Blair in The Queen, but we’ve never seen him do anything with this much spark.

Frost is helped by a few scholars to investigate Nixon, who are played with great comedic wit by Sam Rockwell, Matthew Macfadyen and Oliver Platt. The three take the project more seriously than Frost, which is strange given how much Frost has on the table.

The interview scenes are pulse-pounding, even though they were pretty boring in real life. Howard keeps the same exact dialogue of the original interviews in tact, but by having the film told from Frost’s perspective, we sympathize with his unpreparedness. Guided by a superb Kevin Bacon, Nixon coolly drags on answers and avoids key topics as Frost begins to realize that he’s in over his head.

The best scene of the film is one of the few that is completely fictionalized, when Nixon drunkenly calls Frost the night before their final interview. The ten minute phone conversation that will have you on the edge of your seat. Watch Langella, slightly off camera, yelling into the phone. He isn’t yelling at Frost, he’s yelling for both of them. It’s powerful filmmaking.

Frost/Nixon may very well be Howard’s best film as a director. The film is so good, you think that Howard just setup a camera and let it roll. A lot goes in to making a movie, and watching Frost/Nixon you’re so into the characters and the story, that you don’t once stop to think about what went into the making of it. A

The Reader

Here’s the anti-Benjamin Button. The Reader follows two people through the majority of their lives, discovering each other, uncovering mysteries, and ultimately discovering themselves.

Teenager Michael (David Kross) meets the icy-cold Hanna Schmitz (Kate Winslet) by accident in post-WWII Germany. Their initial chance encounter leads to a few more until they start a passionate summer romance. Hanna is much older and much more domineering, she bosses Michael around as if she’s his mother, then invites him regularly to the bedroom. The two quickly develop a routine of Michael reading to Hanna, then engaging in passionate sex. The affair is kept a secret and then, she’s gone.

Years later we find Michael in law school where he has yet another chance encounter with Hanna, but this time, the stakes are far more serious.

I won’t divulge any more story except to say that the film cuts back and forth from Michael as a college student, to his life as an adult, where he is played with reliable intensity by Ralph Fiennes.

The Reader is often moving and sometimes shocking. Director Stehpen Daldry (The Hours) and writer David Hare do a great job adapting Bernhard Schlink’s semi-autobiographical book. Michael is the center of the story, but Hanna is who we find ourselves wanting more of. She is accused of some remarkably devious acts, yet we want to follow her.

Kate Winslet affirms her role as the very best actress of her generation. At 33 years old, she’s been nominated five times for an Oscar, expect that number to rise to seven after this performance as well as her turn in Revolutionary Road. If there’s a role that deserves her an over-due win, then it’s this one. Better than Brad Pitt in Benjamin Button, Winslet inhabits her aging in The Reader with great emotional balance. I believed every single movement of her performance, it’s quite a sight to see.

Fiennes is an actor of impeccable range, you’ll be hard-pressed to think of an actor that can deliver more emotion, simply by reading into a tape recorder.

My one problem with the film (a very small problem) is that I found myself trying to calculate the ages of the characters in my head too many times. At first I wanted to know how far apart in age they were, then how old they were when we jump ahead, and so on. Not a grand issue, but us mathematically deficient people could’ve used a line of dialogue stating their age gap.

Regardless, The Reader is a quiet, little film that stirs echoes in your mind long after you leave. You won’t regret it. A-

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

One of the best things I can say about The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is that it’s three hours long, and not a minute of it feels wasted. I wasn’t once bored, didn’t once inquire the time, I was completely taken into director David Fincher’s glorious fantasy.

Brad Pitt is remarkable as a man who ages backwords during a long, torrid life. Along the way, the ever-so-pleasant Benjamin meets a dynamic group of characters. Queenie (Taraji P. Henson) the woman who raised him, the people living with him in the old folks home, the wife of a spy that he has an affair with (the always brilliant, and recent Oscar winner Tilda Swinton), and of course, the love of his life, Daisy (Cate Blanchett).

Benjamin Button’s life is similar to Forrest Gump’s in the way that he progresses several decades doing what he wants, makes several interesting friends, and lives most of his life with peaceful resolve. Thank screenwriter Eric Roth who wrote both films (and won an Oscar for Forrest Gump).

Told in flashbacks by a middle-aged woman reading a diary, the film isn’t without its faults. It cuts back to the diary-reading far too often. Also, if I’m forced to find faults in Pitt’s performance, then I can pluck a few. I would’ve liked to see more emotions from Benjamin, as opposed to the same wavy, trance-like state that he seems to be in. He talks quietly, moves slowly and never gets angry. I suppose this isn’t Pitt’s fault, I’m sure it was written this way and positive that he was directed to act like this.

Having said that, lets point out the technical mastery of this film. The makeup and visual effects are stunning, easily the year’s best. You’re convinced in every single age-jump of Pitt’s appearance. Whether he’s 70 or 20, it’s absolutely exhilarating to watch. Fincher has always explored with new, innovation ways of filmmaking, hitting a high note with last year’s Zodiac, and my God if he hasn’t outdone himself this time.

Pitt’s performance, along with Swinton’s, are the film’s best. Henson is getting serious Oscar attention and Blanchett is reliable, but not superb. Pitt will no doubt be nominated, and for good reason, he’s an actor that has to overcome his own off-camera, tabloid-heavy celebrity. I’ve admired his work for years since he reached mega-stardom. From Ocean’s Eleven to Babel to The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford to Burn After Reading. He’s an actor that is hardly ever given fair credit.

Meet this film halfway and it’ll be a great ride. Of course the idea of people aging backwords is ridiculous, but have fun with it, the film surely wants you to. A-

Happy-Go-Lucky

I’ve never heard of a directing style quite like Mike Leigh’s. He gets an idea, rounds up a group of actors and dumps them in a room for weeks upon weeks of improvisation. Soon, a script is formed from the actors working through a theme and hashing out all the winded deatails.

Happy-Go-Lucky is easily Leigh’s most optimistic work to date. The film does not have a single shread of plot, but rather a story. We follow the characters around for a certain period of time, getting to know them through conversations, until Leigh feels it’s appropriate to end. It is great, whimsical stuff. Sally Hawkins stars as Poppy, an almost annoyingly optimistic grade-school teacher who loves life and everyone in it. She gets along great with her flat mate, her students, fellow teachers, younger sister and so on.

If the film has a theme, it is the impact of teachers. Poppy is a teacher, her flat mate is a teacher, her pregnant sister is a teacher, she is taught dancing lessons as well as driving lessons and so on. Her driving instructor, Scott, played with heated ferociousness by Eddie Marsan, is a great character. He’s something like a rouge fascist, yelling at Poppy for every little thing, yet scared shitless when two black boys ride by on bicycles.

Watching Happy-Go-Lucky I was reminded of Amelia. Both films don’t really have a plot, and they are essentially about the inherent goodness that people can have. Happy-Go-Lucky isn’t all laughs and giggles, it has a few very serious scenes that are handled extremely well. Watch Hawkins, in one of the year’s best performances, as she sits with a social worker, trying to communicate with one of her students. She interjects at all the right times, saying all the right things. It is a beautiful performance, placed gently in a wondrous film. A

Yes Man

You’ve probably heard that Jim Carrey’s new comedy romp is similar to his 1997 film Liar Liar, and for the most part, you’ve heard right.

Liar Liar had Carrey involuntarily tell the truth for 24 hours, Yes Man finds Carrey jumping head first into a new philosophy of voluntarily saying yes to any proposition that is offered to him.

This includes rides for homeless men, accepting every spam E-mail and pop-up ad, going out with his friends when they want to, etc. Most if it is all harmless fun, the point being that by saying yes, new doors are open up for him. This includes meeting a quirky singer, the always darling Zooey Deschanel.

The bad side is that Yes Man goes for a few too many cheap laughs. By saying yes to everything Carrey soon finds himself accepting felatio from an elderly neighbor (why, dear God, why). Yes Man is probably exactly what you’re expecting, a comedic escape from the heavy-weight Oscar material swirling around the cinema. Having said that, I’d say no to this Yes. D+

Seven Pounds

If you’re tempted to see a new film with aching emotion, a plausible story and dynamic acting, please skip Seven Pounds.

About 30 minutes in, I knew that I was being steered down a meandering mess of a film. The movie introduces Will Smith as Ben Thomas, an IRS agent that feels like he must give back to a select number of people. Why the need for redemption? No idea. Why these people? Not a clue. Why is it called Seven Pounds? Couldn’t tell you.

The movie barely answers any of the many questions it raises. It is a jumbled mess and one of the year’s most disappointing films. I had high hopes for Italian director Gabriele Muccino, who directed Smith with great emotional restraint in The Pursuit of Happiness. But alas, this film is nothing but a waste for good talent. There is plenty to see in the theatres right now, so do yourself a favor and save the weight. D-

My Favorite Scene: GoodFellas

Choose what you will: Joe Pesci’s manically brilliant “I’m funny how?” interrogation; discovering all the bodies to the piano-end of “Layla”; Ray Liotta’s coke-fueled, maddened day of demise scored by some of history’s greatest rock songs. Every scene of Martin Scorsese’s 1990 mafia-crime saga is staged, pop perfection. GoodFellas is a film full of passionate sequences that have had a hand at influencing some of the best young filmmakers today.

I first saw GoodFellas when I was 12 and one scene in particular has been impossible to shake. A scene so shocking in its execution, that it has been known to ruin the rest of the film for some viewers. With a movie comprised of one startling scene after another, it comes as no surprise that its most breathtaking moment comes first.

The film opens with a car cruising down a dark highway. We cut to inside the car, Liotta behind the wheel, dazed and rubbing his eyes, Robert De Niro asleep in the passenger seat, Pesci dozing off in the back. Suddenly we hear a loud thud. Then another and another. Car trouble? Did they hit something? Suddenly a wave of disbelief forms over the characters’ eyes. “No,” Liotta exclaims, holding out the word in doubt.

They pull over in secluded woods. Lit by the harsh red glow of the taillights, the three Italian-suited men stand behind the car, looking at the trunk. De Niro motions for Liotta to pop the trunk. As Liotta moves closer to the car, Pesci reaches in his suit pocket, pulling out a devastatingly large butcher knife. The trunk flies open. It’s a nightmare.

A bloody mess of a man, beaten to a pulp, gasps for breath, pleading for his life. “He’s still alive!” Pesci yells as he moves over the man, stabbing him in the chest again and again and again (and again). De Niro moves in a shoots the man once, twice, six times. Liotta walks over to the trunk, suddenly his narration booms over the soundtrack proclaiming one of the best lines in motion picture history: “As far back as I can remember I always wanted to be a gangster.” BOOM, he slams the trunk and Tony Bennett’s “Rags to Riches” begins to play.

It happens so fast, that you’ll have to remind yourself to blink, let alone breathe. What the hell just happened? Who the hell was that? Who ARE these people?

When Scorsese was done writing the script with Nicholas Pileggi, he knew he needed something more. A kick to jolt the viewers and prepare them for the life he was about to present. He did a risky thing. He took a scene from the middle of the movie and put it in the beginning, knowing the audience wouldn’t find out what it was for another hour. But I’ll be damned if it didn’t pay off.

For the rest of the film, you won’t be able to forget that opening. Even after we find out who the guy is and how he got in the trunk, you’ll remember the nod De Niro gives Liotta, the way Pesci casually pulls the knife out, how Liotta slams the trunk shut.

Rarely does a movie set its tone so perfectly. Yes, GoodFellas is a violent film. But Scorsese never stylizes the violence; he never makes it “look cool”.

Instead he presents three accurate decades in the life of the mafia. This is the way it was done and this is how he wants to paint it, butcher knives and all. Unlike the Godfather films, Scorsese wasn’t interested in slowly developing the characters; ultimately, he wanted to get your attention right away.

Not only does he get it, he keeps our mouths dropped in shock, where it stays for most of the film.

Milk

Politician Harvey Milk ran several rigorous campaigns in San Francisco before he became the first openly gay person to be elected to public office in the United States. He preached peace through practice and understanding. He was frank and precise with his politics, namely the fail to pass Proposition 6, which would’ve fired all openly gay teachers from public schools. He was ultimately killed by fellow city supervisor Dan White, who got off on a light jail sentence for killing Milk and San Francisco mayor, George Moscone.

That’s what you can get from The Times of Harvey Milk, Rob Epstein’s remarkable, Oscar-winning documentary. But in Milk, Gus Van Sant’s bold, incredible new film, you get a whole lot more.

In Milk we get a more personal view of a motivated man with many faults. Milk (Sean Penn) was a failed Wall Street banker who immigrated to a free-spirited California in search of meaning. He quickly made a name for himself on San Francisco’s Castro Street, becoming known to gays and straights alike. Soon enough a business in the Castro couldn’t function successfully without Harvey’s say-so. The film continues to follow Milk through his political career, battling Prop 6 and the conservative White, while also paralleling Milk’s personal life and his inability to hold a relationship.

The film, with a tight script by Dustin Lance Black (Big Love) is executed with subtle power by Van Sant. Milk has its big, climatic moments, sure, but they aren’t presented with a blazing musical score or fancy cinematography. Instead, it’s as if you are in the crowd, as another spectator. Milk plays out so accurate to real life that it’s startling.

As Harvey Milk, Sean Penn gives the best performance of his career. Penn, often known for the ferioucious intensity he brings to films like Dead Man Walking, Mystic River and 21 Grams, is so remarkably subtle in Milk that we hardly know it’s him. He embodies Milk to the fullest extent. Wearing the three-piece suits, flawlessly recreating Milk’s accent and mannerisms; it is a triumphant performance, one of the best in recent memory.

Penn is backed by the year’s best cast, a multitude of young actors who all deliver career bests. James Franco, as Milk’s longtime partner, and Josh Brolin as Dan White, are namely profound. They should compete against each other come Oscar time.

Maybe I haven’t talked about the plot as much as I should. But plot isn’t necessary in describing this film. Milk has all the elements of classic filmmaking, those elements may not be executed in a way that’s familiar, but the film is a daring feat by any estimation.

Van Sant, who was nominated for Good Will Hunting has made his best film yet. In lesser hands, we would’ve had a conventional bio-pic. Milk is an outstanding work of art that touches a broad range of emotions. With the recent headlines concerning Prop 8, the film makes you question how much we’ve accomplished. It stands timeless and unique, and my God if it doesn’t give you hope. A+

Slumdog Millionaire

Hold your breath, folks, you’re in for one hell of a ride. Danny Boyle’s Slumdog Millionaire breathes life into the film medium. It’s multi-genre’d, original as hell and all together remarkable.

Dev (Jamal Malik) is an impoverished Indian teen who has wound up on India’s version of “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?”. Dev may not be the smartest kid around, but somehow he’s one question away from being as rich as the host. How did he get here?

Slumdog Millionaire’s unique narrative (which is a character itself) answers that question by cutting from the questions Dev is asked in the game show, to past experiences in his life that somehow reveal the answer. So essentially, every question is a story. Some of the stories are hilarious, others heartbreaking, several cringe-worthy, but they are all poignant and fierce.

Over the film, Dev, his wily older brother, and Dev’s love interest, Latika (Freida Pinto) are each played by three different actors. Each actor blends perfectly with the other ones. At times, it’s hard to even notice that they’ve grown up. That’s a very good thing. We’re so engrossed with the story, that we never see the switch, not too many films can pull that off.

The authenticity of the film helps with its overall brilliance. Filmed in the streets of Mumbai, we get a front row seat to musty brutality. You’ll feel cramped in the streets as Dev runs from the police, bustling his way through thousands of people. You’ll feel the wind in your hair as Dev catches a free ride on top of a train. You can smell the grime and taste the shit.

I’m not going to talk about any of Dev’s stories or the outcome of the game. But know that this is a brutally honest often frank portrayal of life in the hard knocks.

Visionary director Boyle, who never makes the same film twice, has grabbed us again. He defined drug addiction with Trainspotting, made zombies scary again with 28 Days Later…, even cooked up a thoughtful family film with Millions. Now, giving us his best film yet, he’ll shoot right to the top of the list for best director.

Slumdog Millionaire is rated R for some violence, disturbing images and language. The violence is sparse, yes, but when it comes, it comes fast and furious. Give Boyle credit for doing it tastefully. I only mention the rating because I think this is a film that every single person needs to see. I’ll even call it a family film given the values that are presented.

It makes it all the more prevalent that several of the filming locations were recently struck with unspeakable tragedy. Seeing the film now is like watching a whimsical love story that takes place in the twin towers. But get ready, Slumdog Millionaire is a big Oscar contender. It’s the most original film of the year. Should you go see it? You don’t need any lifelines to figure that one out. A+

Synecdoche, New York

To be honest, I have no idea whether or not I liked Synecdoche, New York. On one side it is wildly original, fiercely acted and beautifully imaginative. On the other hand, it is almost completely incoherent, pointless and seemingly dull. Charlie Kaufman, the wondrously twisted mind behind the screenplays of Being John Malkovich, Adaptation., and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, directs his first feature which appears to be a little too weird for its own good. Philip Seymour Hoffman (consistently great) plays Caden, a mildly depressed, quick aging theatre director who gets a genius grant that lets him create whatever kind of production he wants. Caden decides to make a never-ending play featuring thousands of actors and sets as large as city blocks. Caden wants something real, something true to life. This explains why the actors play the people around them. For instance, Caden hires a man to play Caden. He hires a woman to play his love interest, a woman to pay his wife and so on. This creates something of a mess. The idea is terrific in a Kaufman sort of way, but the execution is flawed. I couldn’t understand, for instance, the ironcal signifigance of one of the main character’s houses always being on fire. The people in the film know it’s on fire, they acknowledge it frequently, yet they go on living in it. Sleeping, eating, having sex, and so on. Do we take it at face value? Of course not. But what then? Or why? I have no idea. To its benefit, Synecdoche, New York has a great, female friendly supporting cast including Samantha Morton, Catherine Keener, Michelle Williams (at her very best), Hope Davis, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Emily Watson and Diane Wiest. But even that many talented faces aren’t enough to comprehend what is happening. Synecdoche, New York will make you think, and it could very well inspire some post-film chatter, but mostly out of annoyance. Seeing this won’t do you any favors, skipping it may. C-

Listen to my podcast on Philip Seymour Hoffman

Quantum of Solace

Bond is back, and better yet, he’s back as Daniel Craig. Craig, the best Bond since Sean Connery (and may prove to be better, in time) kills it as our favorite international spy. Only this time, his antics are a little less distinguishable.

If you like Bond films for the gadgets, the corny dialogue and the cheesy slogans, you better skip this one. Quantum of Solace is far more like Craig’s first outing as Bond, Casino Royale than such farce as Moonraker.

Casino Royale breathed life into a seemingly dead franchise with awesome power. It will go down as one of the very best Bond films. Quantum of Solace is not so lucky. Yes, Craig is good, but that is about it. In addition to having one of the worst titles in franchise history, Quantum of Solace does little to impress.

Sure there are explosions and chases and machine guns and gorgeous femme fatales, but the film lacks any real substance. If you’re worried about plot (is that really why we see these?) then here it goes. In the franchise’s first straight-up sequel, Bond is out to find the people that axed off his love from the last movie. He chases after them and gets wind of a secret organization that wants to control… water. Not oil, not weapons, but… water. Amazing.

My first question is, why hire brilliantly subtle director Marc Forster (Monster’s Ball, Finding Neverland) to helm a Bond film? I was hoping to be shocked, but I wasn’t. Forster is in way over his head, and it shows.

All of my quips aside, Quantum of Solace did entertain me, but it lacked the startling originality of Casino Royale. Shame, considering the incredible energy Craig brings to the table. Craig, who is contracted for two more Bond films, will benefit from some better material next time around. Until then, go rent Casino Royale. B-

Role Models

Paul Rudd and Seann William Scott bring their respective senses of humor to this somehow refreshing comedy romp.

Rudd, a consistently sarcastic, quick-bantered everyman; and Scott, consistently stuck as Stiffler, are two energy drink salesmen who ran their truck a little ramped and end up doing community service for a Boys and Girls-type foundation.

Rudd is paired with a shy dork (Christopher Mintz-Plasse, aka McLovin) who likes to reenact live-action medieval games. Scott is teamed up with the much funnier, foul-mouthed hellion Ronnie (Bobb’e Thompson).

The film delivers some genuine laughs, most from Thompson and Jane Lynch as the whacko who runs the organization. But it stalls hard in the third act. I understand that director David Wain (Wet Hot American Summer) wants to put a delicate action-humor spin on the film, but it takes away from the rest of the movie.

Don’t get me wrong, Role Models is funny and Rudd and Scott make a good a pair. I just wish things turned out a little differently. Side note: if you like Elizabeth Banks and don’t want to see two movies, skip Zack and Miri Make a Porno, this is far better. B