The American

I knew after its first five minutes that I was going to love The American.  The opening scene, which I see no reason to reveal here, sets the tone perfectly. We know that we’re in for something different.  Something deliberately paced (i.e. slow), something expressionistic (i.e. not a lot of explaining) and something bold (i.e. George Clooney minus the charm).

In fact, The American is the best foreign film (that just happens to be an American film) that I’ve seen in years.  Save the title and its star, there is nothing inherently American about this movie.  Which, for the purposes of exploring familiar themes using unconventional methods, is a very good thing.

Clooney plays an assassin hiding out in a small Italian village after being mysteriously ambushed.  While hiding out, his employer contracts him to build a weapon from scratch for another would-be assassin.  He soon meets and falls for a hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold and decides that this job will be his last.

That’s pretty much it.  On the surface, there isn’t a whole hell of a lot going on here.  And that’s just the way skilled director Anton Corbijn wants it to appear.

In a three-sentence plot description, The American comes off as a flick full of clichés.  Not a chance.  First off, focus on the scenery, which itself acts as a character.  Corbijn, much in the way of the great Michael Haneke, shows you something, but doesn’t guide you.  There’s no sudden close up urging the viewer to LOOK OVER HERE.  No.  You have to find the clues for yourself, which is very un-American as far as filmmaking goes.

Next, throw in one of the most recognizable faces in the world as your lead, and have him play a character unlike any other he’s played.  As Jack (or Edward, or who ever) George Clooney delivers the most controlled performance of his career.  His dialogue is sparse (it maybe adds up to 10 script pages of talking) which causes him to tell his story with his eyes and face, something Clooney is often ignored for doing in other roles.

Lastly, how about that “one last job” bit?  For every movie that has done this brilliantly (Heat, Inception), there are four that have failed at it.  This one succeeds because Jack’s final job is underplayed by the elimination of risk (making a gun isn’t as tough as, say, killing a high profile figure) and the fact that it is mentioned only once in passing.

Watching The American, I was reminded of the great foreign directors.  Parts of the film – the dialogue as an afterthought, the extended shots of landscapes, little exposition – are supremely Ingmar Bergman.  Other parts – the nonchalant sexuality, the quick action sequences – were reminiscent of Antonioni.  And all the better.

Given the film’s modest box office take, it’s obvious that people aren’t flocking to see this. That’s a shame.  If they did, they’d know that The American is one of the very best films to be released this year.  Go for something different.  A

I'm Still Here

Here is my original review for I'm Still Here, followed by a not so subtle amendment:

Most everyone saw, or heard about, Joaquin Phoenix’s bizarre, basically incoherent appearance on The Late Show with David Letterman last February. The blogosphere exploded with speculation.  Was it a hoax?  Was Joaquin really quitting acting, only to be known as JP, an aspiring rap artist?   Or, was it, gulp, for real?

Casey Affleck’s unsettling, if not suspicious documentary, won’t answer all your questions, but it knows it doesn’t have to, either.

Affleck, Phoenix’s good friend and brother-in-law, followed Phoenix around for almost a year shortly after the two-time Oscar nominee announced he was giving up acting for good.  The result is quite remarkable. 

Over the course of the movie we witness Phoenix snort cocaine, order prostitutes off the internet, snort cocaine off of the breasts of said prostitutes, go ape shit on his best friends, punch out attendees at his rap performances, piss off Sean “Diddy” Combs, and, yes, bomb on Letterman.

Much in the way of D.A. Pinnebaker’s brilliant 1967 Bob Dylan documentary Don’t Look Back, I’m Still Here doesn’t fully explain Phoenix as a man, or really unveil the true reason he decided to quit a profession he was, mostly, quite good at.  Instead, we’re presented a portrait of someone with very little self esteem, who was, suspiciously, all right with having cameras on him 24/7 for a year. 

I’ve used the word suspicious twice because as Phoenix’s gut grows larger and his beard becomes scruffier, his antics become increasingly more out of control.  Several times during the film, I wondered how much of what I was seeing was real, and how much was simply faked or improved upon.

After much pondering, I think Joaquin Phoenix did truly want to find new life inspiration by becoming a rapper.  I do think that most of what he does in the film – the tirades, the drugs, the sex – did indeed happen.  Is he playing up for the cameras?  Of course.  But I think the root cause is genuine. 

There are a few moments in the film which led me to believe this.  Phoenix admits multiple times that his music is shit and that he doesn’t know how to clean his slate.  Also, it’s hard to say that Phoenix escaping from a limo and fleeing into the woods directly after his Letterman appearance, sobbing hysterically in the arms of his best friend, is fake.  If it is, it’s the best acting he’s ever done.

As a film, first-time director Casey Affleck uses some groovy editing techniques (speeding up a long tracking shot of Phoenix getting girls into his hotel room is a highlight), but really, the star here is the film’s subject.  We may not know any more about him, but, like he asks of the audience in his opening monologue, we may not necessarily judge him (as much) anymore.

It’s just been released that Phoenix will sit in Letterman’s guest chair on Wednesday Sept. 22.  I suppose he is still here after all.  A-

Amendment to original review:

Well, Casey Affleck recently told the New York Times that his film was all a complete lie. No no... "performance art," as he calls it.  Bullshit.  If Affleck admitted up front that this was a mockumentary, in the way of This Is Spinal Tap, then we all could've rolled with it.  But admitting that your film is all fake a week after its release is just lazy.  The Blair Witch Project did that, rather successfully, and it hasn't been done well since.  We knew from the get-go that characters in Paranormal Activity were actors, but that film was still scary as all hell.

Admitting up front that I'm Still Here was going to be a piece of "performance art" would've been fine.  Audiences love watching real actors play caricatures of themselves (Curb Your Enthusiasm comes to mind). 

But finding out it's a hoax, which most of us were expecting anyway, is just flat out fucking lame.  If you read my initial review it is obvious that I was fooled. Affleck says that wasn't his intention, but I'm still pissed anyway.  In my review I said that if the film was fake, it was the best performance of Joaquin Phoenix's career.  Because I still partly believe that, I'll go easy with my new grade of D-.  But it probably deserves worse.

The Tillman Story

What more do you possibly need to know about Pat Tillman and the events surrounding his death?  The story was poked and prodded for months after Tillman died under mysterious circumstances in Afghanistan in April 2004.  But director Amir Bar-Lev wanted, like every good documentarian should, to look closer.

Shortly after 9/11, Arizona Cardinal Pat Tillman turned down a multimillion dollar contract and enlisted in the Army Rangers.  Two years later, he was killed in action.  People got curious.  Rumors spread, controversy was uncovered, politicians were made to look bad, and then the story went away.

Tillman’s mother Dannie, wasn’t pleased to learn that officials had initially covered up the fact that Tillman and members of his platoon were gunned down by friendly fire.  She also knew that the story didn’t end there, so she began digging. 

Revealing all she uncovered is to reveal everything that the film uncovers, which is no fun to read in a review.  Let’s just say that, if Dannie was 100 percent correct, Tillman’s death was covered up by everyone who knew about it, which goes high up the political food chain.

But the details surrounding the cover up aren’t nearly as riveting as the Tillman family’s inability to cope with not necessarily what happened, but how it was told to them.

None of this is conveyed better than in the speech Tillman’s younger brother, Richard, gives at Pat’s memorial service.

Jumping up on stage in a white tee shirt tucked into blue jeans, Richard looks around, takes a swig of his tall Guinness, and speaks.

“Wow, there are a lot of people here, thanks for coming,” he says almost sarcastically.  “Pat's a fucking champion and always will be.  And, he’d want me to say this, but he's not with God. He's fucking dead. He's not religious. Thanks for your thoughts, but he's fucking dead."

The comment is startling in its delivery, which is calm and precise, and echoes in your mind long after you exit the theatre.  It’s raw and real.

Like the best documentaries made recently, The Tillman Story doesn’t offer a full resolution to its subject.  Dolphins are still being slaughtered in a hidden cove in Taiji.  Father Oliver O’Grady is still alive and well and living free in Ireland, even after admittedly molesting hundreds of children. We’ll never know if Jesse Friedman actually raped boys with his father.  We’ll probably never hear President Bush admit that he knew Pat Tillman was killed by friendly fire, only to lie about it later.

 

Although The Tillman Story isn’t nearly as good as those other films, it carefully and believably presents an issue that may very well never find a satisfying resolution.  A good documentary doesn’t have to give you all the answers; it just has to make you care.  B

Machete

When Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino made their deliciously underrated throwback flick, Grindhouse, a fake trailer for a movie about an ex-Federale framed for an attempted assassination, opened the film.  Three years later, Rodriguez releases the feature film formed around that trailer.  Kept is its name, Machete, it’s star, Danny Trejo and its basic plot. 

It’s fair to assume that, based solely on that initial trailer, Rodriguez expects most of us to dismiss the full-length Machete as ‘70s pulp trash.  Yeah… and?

Rodriguez knows what he’s doing.  He’s making a carefree, ultraviolent, gut-bustlingly funny film that involves little to no thinking.  It’s in the same vein as Piranha 3D and The Expendables; If you can’t have fun with it, don’t even bother coming.

We’ve all seen Trejo before.  With damn near 200 film and television performances over the past two decades under his belt, he’s one of the most prolific character actors working today.  But here, as Machete, he finally gets his name above the title.

Years after witnessing his wife killed by a drug lord (a wonderfully bloated Steven Seagal) Machete tries to blend in with the rest of the illegal immigrants in a Texas town, getting whatever day-laborer work is thrown at him.  But one day he’s picked up by a creeper in a suit (Jeff Fahey, yes, the Lawnmower Man) and offered some serious dough to take out an ultra right-winged Senator (Robert De Niro, having a blast).

But after Machete is framed for the near fatal shooting of the Senator, he seeks revenge to clear his name.  With the help of babes like Jessica Alba, Michelle Rodriguez and, yes, Lindsay Lohan, Machete kills his way to the top, which results in a fantastically overblown showdown of Texas hicks vs. Mexican immigrants.

Of course the whole flick is completely over the top, but that’s the point.  It boasts  virtually no substance, but doesn’t for a second pretend to be something other than it is.

Fans need not be dismayed, as the final credits tell us, Machete will return… twice.  As Machete cuts and stabs and shoots his way to the top, none of the bad guys can stop him, and Machete can’t miss.  Rock ‘n’ roll. B

Get Low

With little effort, one could make a very convincing argument that Robert Duvall is America’s best living actor.  Just a few months shy of his 80^th birthday, Duvall has been igniting the screen ever since his haunting, underplayed debut in To Kill a Mockingbird. 

Really, can you picture anyone else as Corleone consigliere Tom Hagen in the Godfather’s?  Or sleazy publisher Frank Hackett in Network?  You know for a fact that no one else could pull of a line as bizarre as “I love the smell of napalm in the morning,” as well as Duvall.  But that’s not fair, a lot of actors had their heyday in the 70s. 

So how about a list of very mediocre films that Duvall not only stole scenes in, but actually made the film worth watching: Deep Impact, A Civil Action, Phenomenon, John Q, Lucky You and on and on.  Mix in brilliant turns in The Paper, The Apostle and Sling Blade and you’ve got a bonafide master.

In his latest feat, Duvall plays ragged hermit Felix Bush, who in 1930s Tennessee gets the wild idea of having a living funeral. He wants to invite the whole town, most of which fear him, with the help of a fast-talking funeral home owner (Bill Murray) and his loyal partner (Lucas Black).

Bush has secrets.  Big ones.  That he’s kept tight-lipped for 40 years.  And this is where a film like Get Low can either falter or excel.  Bush’s secrets are talked about throughout the entire film, details are hinted at, criminal activity is suspected, but nothing is ever confirmed.  Where it gets tricky is when the audience finally finds out what the big secret is. 

Of course I won’t reveal it here, but I will say that once we find out, it is done with such effortless conviction that Duvall will effortlessly waltz into the Kodak Theatre in February to eagerly await his second Oscar (he won in 1983 for Tender Mercies).

For a first time feature film director, Aaron Schneider delivers beyond expectations, fully immersing his set with believable details. (This guy ain’t no rookie, though.  He won an Oscar for Best Short Film in 2003.)  And with the help of Murray, who is clearly having a blast, and the talented Black (who continues to raise his own bar after a remarkable debut in Sling Blade, with roles in Friday Night Lights and Jarhead), Get Low is most definitely a world to trek in to

“It’s about time for me to get low,” Duvall says in an early scene.  And something tells me that if it was anyone else, we may not care as much.  B+

Piranha 3D

Piranha 3D is the kind of movie that knows exactly what movie it wants to be. I can't tell you how refreshing it is to see a silly summer throwaway flick that knows it's a silly summer throwaway flick. (The Expendables fits this bill as well).

If you choose to walk into Piranha 3D (and, for my money, you should) then expect a ridiculously over-the-top gorefest; a real slapstick romp. There is not one single shred of scientific accuracy in the entire film. But, it never tries to justify itself as being accurate. The film is absurd. And it knows it.

When a lone beer bottle (really, a beer bottle? It couldn't have been a brick, or perhaps an anchor?) falls out of a boat and lands on the lake floor, it sets off a massive earthquake that releases century's-old piranhas.

 Because this takes place in a town similar to that of Jaws, the lake is littered with college spring breakers partying their asses off, and the cops (led by a badass Elisabeth Shue) are initially afraid to cease what will certainly be a huge monetary week for the town.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out where this is going.

There is, of course, the standard lame plot (as if violently starved piranhas aren't enough to carry a movie), but don't let that bog you down. 

There is no reason to praise Piranha 3D; believe me, I'm not going to sit here and defend it against its critics. But those pointing out every flaw are taking it far too seriously. There are flaws because gifted director Alexandre Aja (he made the scarily good High Tension) wants there to be flaws.

Honestly, how can you not enjoy a delirious Jerry O'Connell as a tequila'ed and coked up porn director?  Or Ving Rhames getting all medieval on some piranhas' asses? Or a  possessed Christopher Lloyd, playing the oh so convenient character who just happens to have a clay mold of the type of evil piranha sitting at his desk?

Because a sequel is already in the works, I have no shame in telling you that the ending is a complete cop out. But oh well, this ain't Citizen Kane. Hell, it isn't even Alien. But then again, it doesn't pretend to be. B

Note: Am I the only one that finds it ironic that the most grotesque (and hilarious) death in the film has nothing to do with a piranha?  Think a long ponytail and a faulty boat propeller.

the Directors: Steven Soderbergh

Welcome to the wonderful world of Steven Soderbergh. The man has had one of the most varied careers in recent cinema. He began with a startling debut, then faded away for a decade behind little-seen oddities. Once he hit his stride in Hollywood via Ocean’s Eleven, he partly turned his back on Tinseltown, making many flicks for next to nothing, starring people we've never heard of.

Soderbergh is one of the rare filmmakers who can do just as much with $100 million as he can with $200,000. Because he directs, shoots, edits and camera operates the majority of his films, Soderbergh can selflessly be dubbed a true auteur. And with 12 flicks (and one TV show) under his belt in the 2000s alone, the dude is damn prolific, too. Basically, when I’m asked who my favorite current filmmaker is, Soderbergh is always one of the first names out of my mouth.

(Note: Soderbergh’s second film Kafka, made in 1991, is seemingly nonexistent. I’ve tried various outlets – Netflix, Amazon, used film stores – to no avail. Likewise his 1996 documentary, Gray’s Anatomy.)

sex, lies and videotape (1989)

An incredible debut film with the stamp of a true visionary. The audience immediately falls into Soderbergh’s unique world with the help of a bizarre story, and an intriguingly mysterious lead character. As the quick-witted banter flies off the screen, we slowly become all-consumed in Soderbergh’s psychological study on sexuality, lack of truth, and yes, videotapes. A

Interesting Fact: What do the titles 46:02, Retinal Retention, Charged Coupling Device, Mode: Visual and Hidden Agendas all have in common? They were other possibilities for the title of this film.

King of the Hill (1993)

A moderately amusing tale of a young teen struggling to make it in the Depression-era Midwest. While the film looks good, the story and catchy gimmicks quickly grow old. There’s a reason you’ve probably never seen this movie. Not awful, but not among Soderbergh’s best. C+

Interesting Fact: Spalding Gray, the interest of Soderbergh’s little-seen documentary Gray’s Anatomy, has a brief cameo in this film.

The Underneath (1995)

A mediocre, yet highly stylized, crime caper. While the acting is good on all parts, namely William Fichtner as a psycho baddie, the story is weak and predictable. (Hint: if the first scene of a movie features an armored car, you can safely assume that it will be robbed by the film’s end.) B

Interesting Fact: Take notice of the use of different tint colors and canting camera angles, devices Soderbergh would soon perfect.

Shizopolis (1996)

When a movie opens with the director staring into the camera telling his audience that the film they are about to watch is the most important film of all time, you shouldn’t take it too seriously. At least that’s Soderbergh’s thought. This on-the-fly, cinema vérité experiment is great if viewed as a film with little-to-no meaning. Its satirical theme is amusing, but its gimmick runs dry pretty fast. B-

Interesting Fact: The movie was written, produced, directed, shot, and scored by Soderbergh himself. It cost $250,000 to make, and grossed just $10,580.

Out of Sight (1998)

Easily the most important film of Soderbergh’s career, as it put him on the mainstream map. George Clooney and Jennifer Lopez practically light the screen on fire, their chemistry is that hot.  It doesn’t get any better than Clooney and Lopez, thief and cop, stuck in the trunk of a car, talking the night away. Also, notice how the different narratives are fused together through seamless editing, a technique that would soon become Soderbergh’s trademark. A

Interesting Fact: Soderbergh shot the trunk scene 45 times, each time in one long take. In editing, he realized he didn’t like any of them, so they reshot it with multiple setups.

The Limey (1999)

An underrated, ferocious little gem of a film. Soderbergh takes his loopy editing device from Out of Sight and explodes it. The film, about an old British hood seeking revenge on his murdered daughter, plays out like a brutal jigsaw puzzle. Terence Stamp in the title role, and Peter Fonda as a Hollywood goon, are perfectly cast. A great, hidden film. Check it out. A-

Interesting Fact: The DVD commentary for this film, with Soderbergh and writer Lem Dobbs, is almost as well known as the movie itself. Much of the track plays out like the film, with weird sound effects and repetition. And, most notably, the constant arguing between the two subjects on how the film was produced.

Erin Brockovich (2000)

I’ve always thought that Julia Roberts got way more credit in this movie than she deserved. The film’s technique, as usual, is the star, with extended cross dissolves and over-exposed photography. Albert Finney is great, but Julia just doesn’t do it for me. B-

Interesting Fact: Roberts received an unprecedented salary for her role, making her the first woman to make $20 million for a movie.

Traffic (2000)

In January, I chose Traffic as the best film of the 2000s, a decision I proudly stand by. I have not one negative thing to say about this film, which is a flawlessly detailed examination of drugs in America. Not only Soderbergh’s finest achievement as a director, but as a cinematographer as well. Casting each story in a different colored hue was sheer genius. The final scene of this movie is one of the best captured moments in all of film. A perfect cinematic experience. A+

Interesting Fact: The first names of the four men who won Oscars for this film are Steven, Stephen, Stephen and Benicio.

Ocean’s Eleven (2001)

A dazzling throwback to the Rat Pack glory days of Hollywood. In a bit of perfect casting, George Clooney excels as the suave Danny Ocean. Equally good are his thieving counterparts Brad Pitt, Matt Damon and Elliot Gould. Honestly, have you ever talked to someone who flat-out hates this movie? It’s one of the most genuinely entertaining movies of the 2000s. A

Interesting Fact: If you’ve ever been tempted to watch a DVD with the commentary on, do it here with the Damon and Pitt track. It’s one of the funniest I’ve ever heard.

Full Frontal (2002)

Soderbergh’s first foray into indie mystery after achieving A-list status. Like his later tiny-budget films, you either like Full Frontal or you don’t. I’m not going to argue that it can be too Hollywood insider-y for the average viewer, but I didn’t see it as a complete failure. As an exercise in stripping movie powerhouses of their vanity, it definitely succeeds. But is the flimsy story enough to carry an entire film? You be the judge. B

Interesting Fact: Soderbergh attached a list of strict rules to the screenplay of this low budget film. The list included the fact that there would be no sets, no drivers, no hair and makeup, no trailers, no craft service, and a promise that the persons involved would have a great time.

Solaris (2002)

Hands down the most underrated film of Soderbergh’s career. Despite being produced by James Cameron, the film was released to dismal box office returns and harsh reviews. I’ve always thought Solaris was a patient, brilliantly realized story with convincing acting and a powerful conclusion. But not many would agree with me. A

Interesting Fact: Solaris was originally given an R rating due to two shots of George Clooney’s naked bottom. But in a landmark appeal, Soderbergh argued his case before the MPAA, citing that similar content (and worse) had appeared on network television. The movie was soon given a PG-13 rating.

K Street (2003)

This short-lived HBO series (it only lasted one season) was a ballsy, fly-on-the-wall approach to the inside working’s of the D.C. government infrastructure. Fusing together real people with fictional characters, Soderbergh, along with co-creator George Clooney, delivered an improvised, captivating work of modern television. Sure it only appealed to a select sect of people, but I have I feeling it would’ve grown into a superb show if given more time. A-

Interesting Fact: Soderbergh knew that in order to be current, he would have to discuss the most recent political news. For 10 weeks, he would film Monday-Wednesday, edit Thursday, complete sound editing and final touches on Friday, send to the studio on Saturday, and the show would air on Sunday.

Eros: "Equilibrium" segment (2004)

Soderbergh is one-third of this colossal disaster. With names like Wai Kar Wong and Michelangelo Antonioni, you’d expect something worthwhile. Such is not the case. The three short films of Eros each present their take on love and sex. The only remotely interesting one is Wong’s. Sadly, much like King of the Hill, there’s a reason you probably haven’t heard of this movie. D

Interesting Fact: I got nothing.

Ocean’s Twelve (2004)

Probably the most hated of Soderbergh’s better-known films. But, like Solaris, I think this sequel is great, and dare I say, possibly as good as the first Ocean's. Ditching his controlled filming style used in Ocean’s Eleven and opting for a more insider’s perspective (à la K Street), Ocean’s Twelve makes better use of its characters, but admittedly slacks on its story. The scene where the Ocean’s crew discuss their new plan in a cramped hotel room is one of the best of Soderbergh’s career; a great, improvised work of art. A-

Interesting Fact: Clint Eastwood was rumored to make a cameo as Linus’s (Matt Damon) father, but had to drop out. Peter Fonda shot a scene as Linus’s father, but it was cut. Linus’s father was eventually played by Bob Einstein in Ocean’s Thirteen. Einstein is best-known for playing Marty Funkhouser on Curb Your Enthusiasm.

Bubble (2006)

For this little wonder, about a murder that shakes up the lives of a few doll-factory workers, Soderbergh traveled to a barren Midwest town, cast all nonprofessional actors, used their houses as sets, improvised all their dialogue, shot only for a few days, and then released it simultaneously in theaters, on DVD and On Demand. The result is a revelatory 73 minutes of independent film. Roger Ebert called this the second-best movie of 2006 for a reason. A-

Interesting Fact: Honestly, the whole damn setup is interesting. Just rent it.

The Good German (2006)

You’d think that if anyone could nail a Berlin-set, post-WWII romance, it’d be Steven Soderbergh. Especially if his cast has names like Clooney and Blanchett. But sadly, this Casablanca-esque, lovers-in-peril film never fully delivers. Blanchett is perfectly cast as a femme fatale, as is Tobey Maguire as a psycho soldier  And although The Good German is nearly technically flawless, the story is unbearably weak. You need more than luscious cinematography to keep a flick afloat. B-

Interesting Fact: Soderbergh only used film equipment that was available during the ‘40s. Essentially, the film is shot as if it had been made in 1945.

Ocean’s Thirteen (2007)

The third and final Ocean’s flick plays out like a revenge film after one of the crew members is injured by a new Vegas pusher, played by Al Pacino. I suppose I enjoy these films because it seems like everyone involved enjoys them so damn much. Still, Thirteen is so clearly the weakest effort of the trio.  B

Interesting Fact: During the final scene in the airport, Pitt tells Clooney to “try and keep the weight off between jobs next time,” a reference to Clooney’s weight gain for his role in Syriana. Clooney retorts by telling Pitt he should “settle down and have a couple of kids,” which Pitt has, and then some, with partner Angelina Jolie.

Che (2008)

Broken into two segments, Soderbergh’s epic chronicling of Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara is best viewed in one very long sitting (258 minutes to be exact). Not all of it is great: Soderbergh takes his time establishing the tiniest details with painstakingly long wide shots, expansive dialogue and seemingly endless subplots. For me, the reasons to appreciate it outweighs the reasons to bash it. Benicio Del Toro gives his best performance since Traffic as the dynamic Che. You believe his every gesture. The extended battle in the deserted town that concludes the first section of the film is the highlight of this expressive passion project. A-

Interesting Fact: Del Toro was Soderbergh’s first and only choice to play Che. But in the event of an emergency, Soderbergh’s Che back-up was none other than Val Kilmer.

The Girlfriend Experience (2009)

Only Steven Soderbergh would cast a real life porn star in a film about a high class escort, and not have a single sex scene. Which sums up this tiny indie pretty well: it’s all about the tease. Porn star Sasha Grey, beyond all reasonable doubt, turns out solid work as the confused Chelsea. Grey seems to adapt to Soderbergh’s come-what-may method rather well. Fans of the auteur in question will be delighted by this film’s loopy narrative, which is, of course, a return to form. A-

Interesting Fact: Much like Bubble, this film was shot in a matter of weeks with mostly unknowns and, while cheap, didn’t nearly make back its money.

The Informant! (2009)

Matt Damon gives one of the best, and by far most zany, performances of his career as real-life whistle blower Mark Whitacre. Initially portrayed as a complete nincompoop, Damon slowly gives Whitacre sincere depth, diving further down into his emotional despair. I was genuinely surprised that this film didn’t garner serious awards attention. From Damon’s revelatory performance to Soderbergh’s corn-colored cinematography, it’s a real delight.  A-

Interesting Fact: According to Damon, Soderbergh used “perfect direction” when he told Damon to issue Whitacre’s final apology to the judge as if he were accepting an Academy Award.

The Expendables

You know what, I can't even lie: I enjoyed every single minute of The Expendables. No bullshit. It's a film that knows exactly what it wants to be, which is nothing more than a rock 'em sock 'em action flick. 

It's total crap, of course. The acting is forced and the dialogue is treated as an afterthought, but that didn't bother me. Here's why.

Director/writer/star Sylvester Stallone set out to make a balls-to-the-wall, '80s style action romp. And he's done just that. Most action movies today substitute real explosions for god-awful special effects. They depend on characters staring into computer screens to hack into some system, or use some piece of false weaponry that no one has ever heard of.

Sure there are a few CGI shots used here, but for the most part, shit really blows up, and guns and knives are used instead of infrared-thermal-nuclear-rocket-exploding-device... things. The Expendables never puts on a pretense. It's a throwback to the golden area of the genre, and it most definitely succeeds as just that.

Stallone and his gang of buffed-up badasses  have a blast as a crew of mercenaries hired to... hell I don't even know. Overthrow some foreign military general? Who cares.

The price of admission is worth the final blowout scene alone, most of which is set in the dungeon of a huge estate of said military general. As the men kill dozens, hundreds, seemingly thousands of bad guys without so much as receiving a scratch, they suddenly all get pinned down. Game over. Then, out of no where, one of them comes barging down the hallway blasting the shit out of anything that moves with an impossibly large shotgun. Awesome.

I shouldn't have liked this movie. It isn't my preferred cinematic cup of tea, to say the least. I should've balked at an obvious, cheesy line that Stallone delivers towards the Governor of California (who steals a scene with Mr. McClane), but instead, I laughed. I should've rolled my eyes at a barely comprehensible perfromance by Mickey Rourke, but instead, I just went with it.

Take the Transformers films for example, the most worthless clusterfuck of a film franchise that has ever been greenlit. Michael Bay actually thinks he's making The Godfather of action films; he thinks his films are masterpieces. The Expendables never gives off that impression, because it isn't trying to be great. It's just trying to blow shit up, and have fun doing it.  As Rourke would say: "Amen, brother." B

Eat Pray Love

Is it possible for one scene to completely change your opinion about a movie? Can one brilliantly staged and acted sequence make a dull movie great, or at least worth while? Food for thought (get it?!...sigh), but more on this later.

If you're one of the millions of people who read Elizabeth Gilbert's insanely popular memoir, you know the gist.

Between an ugly divorce and a fleeting relationship with a younger man, Liz (Julia Roberts) has a quasi nervous breakdown when she comes to terms with the fact that she's sick of her dull, passionless NYC life. She whips up an idea to spend the year eating in Italy, praying in India and loving in Bali.

It's a novel, commendable choice for a middle-aged woman to just up and go go go. And on the page, Gilbert's whimsical (if not too winded) prose casts a sense of solidarity with the reader; we feel like we know her and her experiences. Not so much with the film.

Director Ryan Murphy knows how to shoot some groovy b-roll (as was evident in his first TV show Nip/Tuck). The way he shoots and cuts together the opening segments of Liz arriving to each city is exhilarating (namely the India segment, which is perfectly scored to M.I.A's "Boyz"). But once the actors actually sit and talk, all, more or less, goes to shit.

The film rests solely on the shoulders of Julia Roberts. If you like her, you'll like the movie, if you don't particularly care for her (ding ding) then you won't be pulled into the drama. Watching Roberts kneel on her bedroom floor and pray for the first time, I knew I should be feeling something. I knew it was a pivotal, emotional scene for the character and the film itself. But I didn't care. At all. Because she didn't make me care.

Most of the scenes play out like that. In my mind, the star of the Italian segment was the food, in India it was the cranky old Texan Liz grows to admire (played to perfection by Richard Jenkins), and the effortless Javier Bardem stole all the Bali scenes.

But, can shots of food and two male actors keep a film afloat? I'm not sure.  Which bring me to the scene I mentioned earlier.

An hour and 15 minutes into this film, towards the end of the India segment, Roberts and Jenkins share a scene that is so well done, it damn near saves the entire film.

As the two sit, Jenkins slowly delivers a monolouge of perfect restraint and utter heartbreak. Director Murphy does a very wise thing here: he doesn't move the camera, not once. There is no cutaway shot of Roberts' swollen, crying face, no slow zoom-in to Jenkins' grimaced expression. It just stands still.

Richard Jenkins

This is what great acting is all about. You forget about the technique of filmmaking and the fact that you're watching paid actors. I can imagine Murphy's direction to Jenkins in this scene: "It's just you. Do what you can with it."

Before the film started, I never thought I'd predict that Eat Pray Love would be dubbed as an Academy Award contender. But Jenkins makes this the case. The actor has been stealing scenes for years in minor roles as the ghost dad in Six Feet Under, a love stricken boss in Burn After Reading, and most notably, as a isolated man in The Visitor. But in Eat Pray Love, and this scene in particular, he delivers his best, most controlled work to date. It's one of the very best scenes of the year. See the movie for Jenkins, he gets an A, the film as a whole, give it a D+.

Eat Pray Love?  Forget that.  How about Gym, Tan, Laundry?

Step Up 3D

What's to say, honestly? Maybe I'm at a disadvantage for not having seen the first two films in this critically acclaimed franchise. But come on, how can you turn down a dance flick in 3D?

Admirers of the first two Step Up's should have a fun time here, watching inner city kids battle over dancers for a monetary prize which will fix everyone's problems.

Fans probably aren't concerned with the acting, which is a... step up above that of a porn star's. Or the fact that when the actors face the camera mid-dance, the 3D makes their limbs look like Stretch Armstrong's.

Nothing is believable, everything is forgettable. Just another summer at the movies. D

Twelve

Joel Schumacher has had one of the most staggered careers in recent Hollywood. He started strong (St. Elmo's Fire, The Lost Boys), made one of the most widely mocked films of all time (Batman Forever) then made a sequel to it (Batman & Robin).  He's made a few great dramatic films (Falling Down, A Time to Kill, Tigerland) and now just keeps under the radar with mediocre flicks.

Schumacher has always had in interest in examining nice people doing not so nice things, such as in Twelve where the lead character, White Mike (awful name) is a sober drug dealer trying to hustle a living after his mother's death.

White Mike, as played by Gossip Girl pretty boy Chance Crawford, walks around New York City in his designer pajamas, dealing weed to trustfund babies on spring break, none of which speak like they actually attend Harvard or Yale, as is evident by their inability to form a coherent sentence, ending every thought with the words "you know" and/or "like."

Crawford plays White Mike, or  Schumacher directs him, as a guy full of moral fiber. He's so much better than the people he deals to; he has like, you know, morals.

Whatever. White Mike's thugged-out hookup (50 Cent, really stretching here) wants Mike to start dealing Twelve, a new sort of smack that comes on like cocaine but fades into an ecstasy high. But Mike wants no part of it. He's, like, you know, too good for that... stuff.

The film barely strings together a slew of characters, none of which you'll care about. And when the movie (finally) ends, you won't even care that it was due to a cliched, laughably predictable blowout.

You probably didn't get a chance to see this in theatres; it didn't last too long. And trust me, don't seek it out on DVD. Because, like, you know, it... sucks. D-

Life During Wartime

You gotta give it to a guy like Todd Solondz. The dude’s movies get weirder and more perverse with each passing festival circuit. He aims to shock, appall and, most importantly, make you think. It would be easy to write Solondz off as a smut hack. Don’t. Look closer.

Solondz’s first feature, Welcome to the Dollhouse, was an indie sensation. It dealt with teenage angst in a way American audiences hadn’t seen. Happiness, an epic character study about love, loss, pedophilia, sexual harassment and more, is indeed great, even if its content is grimacing. But since Happiness, Solondz has taken his extremes to new levels.

Storytelling is less remembered for its multi-narrative format than for Solondz’s infamous antics surrounding it. (He mocked the MPAA by plastering a huge red square over the bodies of two actors during a particularly rowdy sex scene.) In the little-seen Palindromes, the main character, a 12-year-old girl, is played by eight different actors of various genders and races. If anything, you remember how these films shocked you, and not how they were uniquely conceived.

Now we get Life During Wartime, a quasi-sequel to Happiness with a complete re-cast of characters. Michael K. Williams (unforgettable as Omar in The Wire) replaces Philip Seymour Hoffman was a prank-calling pervert. Ciaran Hinds steps in the shoes of Dylan Baker as a seriously disturbed pedophilic monster. Lara Flynn Boyle is now Ally Sheedy, and so on. The reshaping of the cast isn’t important, it’s just a gimmick. What Solondz wants you to realize, I think, is that no matter who says or does it, it doesn’t change the fact that it’s been said, or done.

Taking its title from a Taking Heads song, Life During Wartime is presented far more abstractly than Happiness. At its root, it’s still about a family of three sisters and their struggles with sex and life and love. And while little is explained, one of the film’s biggest downfalls is that you need to have seen the first film to fully be able to keep up; not a fair conclusion for a movie that came out 12 years ago.

If there are highlights it’s in Ciaran Hinds and Paul Reubens (yes, Mr. Herman). Fresh out of prison, Hinds’ first few scenes are wisely wordless as he slowly makes his way to the Florida coast in search of his family. We’re not entirely sure what he is planning to do, but with Hinds locked in a steady look of utter conviction, it’s impossible to not want to follow him.

Reubens, taking over Jon Lovitz’s role, pops up in a few scenes as the tortured ghost of Shirley Henderson’s ex boyfriend. Watch Reubens’ eyes as they swell red with anger and self-regret. I haven’t seen Pee Wee in a while (Blow, maybe?) but damn if he doesn’t steal the show.

If you’re a Solondz fan, you’ve probably already bought a ticket for Life During Wartime. If you’re a newbie to Solondz’s warped view of American culture, then save this one for later. Either way: be warned. Solondz’s dialogue is written specifically to cut directly to the bone. Something he has seemingly perfected, but always to your liking. B-

The Kids Are All Right

In The Kids Are All Right, Julianne Moore and Annette Bening play a married couple raising their two teenage kids in their happy-yet-imperfect home. But that’s not what the film is about. It also, for that matter, isn’t about how the kids get the urge to locate their biological father. No. The Kids Are All Right, better than any movie so far this year, is about troubling family dynamics. It’s about struggle and sacrifice. It’s about making sense of a situation you thought you understood. Essentially, it’s about life.

It’s Joni’s (Mia Wasikowska) last summer before she heads off to college, and her younger brother Laser (Josh Hutcherson) encourages her to seek out the anonymous sperm donor whose… product was used by each of their moms years ago.

Once the kids secretly meet up with Paul (Mark Ruffalo), the kind of laid back guy who wears his flannel shirts loose and ends each sentence with “right on” or “yeah, man,” they take a quick liking to him. But once Paul is introduced to Jules (Moore) and Nic (Bening), the minor troubles the family previously had slowly begin to seep their way to the surface.

Littered with insecurities, Jules is becoming afraid that her unmotivated, peace-and-love mentality is pushing her career-driven wife away. The impressionable Laser spends his days with an overly aggressive, Adderall-snorting buddy, while Joni deals with her looming virginity. There’s a void in everyone’s life. For better or worse, that’s where Paul comes in.

What The Kids Are All Right pulls off so well is the reality of everyday family life. You can thank director Lisa Cholodenko, who has explored emotional drama with the good High Art and the better Laurel Canyon, or her witty screenplay written with Stuart Blumberg, or you can thank the pitch-perfect cast.

Bening turns out the same repressed ferociousness she brought to her brilliant role in American Beauty, while Moore, in her best role since Far From Heaven, takes Jules to stages of such convincing grief and regret that it is nearly unbearable. Ruffalo has made a career playing likable, unfocused characters (which he perfected in You Can Count on Me), and here he delivers some of his best work to date. But it’s the 20-year-old Wasikowska who steals the show.

Brilliant in her role as a troubled gymnast in HBO’s In Treatment but wasted in Tim Burton’s Alice and Wonderland, Wasikowska presents Joni with such an internal intensity, at times it feels as if she’s going to explode. Wasikowska is a serious force to be reckoned with, emotionally going pound for pound with the A-list cast. Get used to her name, you’re going to be seeing a lot more of her.

You may expect some talk in the film of how lesbian parents aren’t fit to raise children. Don’t. This isn’t a political movie. It’s a family drama. The fact that they are gay is merely an afterthought. Is the family unconventional? Sure. But aren’t all families? They have their troubles and hardships like all parents do in raising teenagers, and they work through it as best they can.

Don’t get me wrong, this film isn’t all tears and screams. It is funny – really funny, actually – and will provide a genuine, if not too honest, good time. The kids may be all right, and this movie sure ain’t bad either. A-

Salt

I’ve felt for a while now that Angelina Jolie is a lot like her life counterpart: both are extremely good looking, extremely wealthy, a little odd, and both are exceptional actors. While Jolie has churned out her fair share of heavy-hitting dramatic roles (winning an Oscar for Girl, Interrupted, being nominated for Changeling and criminally overlooked in A Mighty Heart) she always looks like she’s having the most fun in a down-and-dirty action flick.

The premise for Salt is as simple as movies get: super agent Evelyn Salt is mistaken for a Russian spy, secretly embedded within the CIA. Instead of presenting her case as a rational adult (what fun would that be?) she flees the authorities in a desperate attempt to clear her name.

Once the action starts full throttle, you can’t help but enjoy Jolie as she takes down bodyguard after bodyguard; climbing down high rises, jumping onto moving semis, creating a mini bomb with household cleaning products, and so on. Her intensity, action role or otherwise, has gained steadily over her career.

It helps that Jolie is backed by subtle heavy-hitters Liev Schreiber and Chiwetel Ejiofor, but Salt, as directed by veteran government-operative-action-flick guru Philip Noyce (Patriot Games, Clear and Present Danger), gets bogged down by farfetched antics that even the most loyal action enthusiasts will roll their eyes at. Most of the movie is pleasantly enjoyable, but seriously, do we really believe that this agent-on-the-run could roam the White House grounds for hours on end, slowly making her way to the President?

Also, at the risk of giving too much away, I feel I must mention how much of a cop-out the ending felt like. If we’re going to get sequels, then there’s a way to still end your film rivetingly (i.e. the Bourne films). But here, it’s as if they couldn’t think of anything better. Either way, Jolie is having a good time, more so than her role in Noyce’s Bone Collector, so I suppose not all is lost. C+

Predators

I can just imagine the Hollywood pitch meeting: “Okay, so, we open on Adrien Brody falling from the sky. He’s asleep, then he wakes up in a panic, because he’s… falling.” SOLD!

Producer Robert Rodriguez was originally set to direct this Predators rehash until he got caught up with his soon-to-be-released Machete (which looks like a riot), before passing off the duties to Nimrod Antal. But Rodriguez made one thing clear: this new film was to take place after the first and second Predator films, and completely ignore Alien vs. Predator and Aliens vs. Predator – Requiem. Wise choice.

What we’re left with is one hell of a jumpstarted first act, followed by standard action fare. A slew of badasses (mercenaries, criminals, mob members, gang leaders, etc.) are mysteriously dropped in a random jungle, completely unaware of what or where or why they are there. Soon the gang, led by a perfectly miscast Adrien Brody, discovers they are being hunted, or “preyed,” by some seriously savage beasts.

You know where this is going.

The gang will slowly be picked off one by one in increasing more gruesome ways. By the end, there will undoubtedly be a mano-a-mano showdown between human and predatory beast. But that’s not the fun part, is it.

The best aspect of this relaunch is the ballsy casting of Brody. The youngest lead actor to ever win an Oscar is best known for his subtle vulnerability. But I can’t tell you how much fun it is to see a him ridiculously beefed-up, with a gravely Christian Bale-Batman voice, kicking some serious predator ass. Kudos to the producers for giving him a chance to play against-type.

The rest of the film? Eh. Much in the way of Salt, this movie ends abruptly and with far too many questions open. But given the film’s better-than-expected box office returns, we might see Bordy suit up again faster than expected. C-