2011 Summer Movie Preview

I realized a month or so ago that I have virtually no interest in seeing most of the blockbuster films that millions will flock to over these next few months.  I will, of course, see them anyway, but rather than giving you plot details about Transformers 3 (noise, special effects, screaming, bad acting, noise, special effects…), here’s a brief summation of a few indie flicks that deserve to be sought out this summer.  And, admittedly, a few pricey ones that will be worthwhile, too.  Click a film’s title to be linked to its respective trailer.

(Oh, and at the bottom of the post, you can find a Summer Movie calendar of all major film releases, because, in the words of Frank T.J. Mackey, that’s just the kind of prick I am.)

Bridesmaids – May 13

Because Kristen Wiig is the funniest person working in television right now, and what better way to flex her film star status than with a movie she wrote herself?

Midnight in Paris – May 20 

Because it’s directed by Woody Allen, who, confessedly, has been hit or miss for the past few decades.  Allen releases a new film every year, and I’m there for every one of them, Owen Wilson be damned.

The Tree of Life – May 27 

Because it’s uhh… The Tree of Life.  Duh.  I’ve followed Terrence Malick to the Dakota Badlands, a heavenly Texas wheat field, a monstrous hill in Guadalcanal, and to a new world.  The fact that I have no earthly idea what The Tree of Life is about (nor do I want to) matters none.  I’d follow Malick to hell, for I know he’d make it interesting.

Beginners – June 3 

Because the trailer looks endearing.  Christopher Plummer looks hilarious.  Ewan McGregor looks heartfelt.  And that chick from Inglourious Basterds looks, well, how she looks.

Film Socialisme – June 3 

Because what’s it all about?  Who the hell knows.  But as long as Jean-Luc Godard keeps making films, I’m going to keep seeing them.

Super 8 – June 10

Because it’s a blockbuster that I don’t know anything about, thanks much in part to its convincingly ambiguous trailer.

The Trip – June 10 

Because I haven’t laughed that hard at a trailer in a while.  And because I’m willing to give Michael Winterbottom a chance after his disastrous The Killer Inside Me.

A Better Life – June 24 

Because the trailer looks horribly corny and didactic.  Because it looks like it’ll contain plot twists coming a mile away.  Because it’s directed by the dude who directed New Moon (sigh).  But, also, because… what if?  What if the Mexican dude from Weeds actually nails it?  What if it all works? 

Page One: A Year Inside The New York Times – June 24 

Because I’m fascinated with journalism, yes.  But also because it shows that The New York Times isn’t safe.  And if they aren’t safe, then you can beat your ass no other paper is.

One Day – July 8 

Because it’s directed by Lone Scherfig, who did wonders with An Education.  Yes, it stars Anne Hathaway.  Yes, she as a British accent.  Yes, the accent sounds awful in the trailer.  We’ll see.

Project Nim – July 8

Because it’s the latest documentary from James Marsh, who took my breath away with Man on Wire.   Project Nim tells the story of a chimp who was raised by humans, to see if he could effectively communicate with humans once he reached adulthood.  I’ve heard that the film is “comic, revealing, and profoundly upsetting.” Enough for me.

Tabloid – July 15

Because it’s a documentary about former Miss Wyoming and the Case of the Manacles Mormon.  Oh, and it’s directed by Errol Morris, who is incapable of making a film that is anything less than compelling.

Another Earth – July 22 

Because if it pulls off such a high concept – that there is an alternative Earth and people, for the proper fee, can travel there and live in an alternative reality – it could be as great as Children of Men, and the like.

Friends with Benefits – July 22

Because the R-rated romantic comedy is so rare, it deserves to be given a chance.  Also, Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis will make a great pair

Crazy, Stupid, Love – July 29

Because Steve Carrell seems to be toning it down, while Ryan Gosling seems to be toning it up.  Also… Emma Stone. And Julianne Moore.  And Marisa Tomei.

Higher Ground – Aug. 12

Because it stars, and is directed by, Vera Farmiga, who I’d watch in anything.  While the plot – about one woman’s struggle with her faith – sounds bland, Farmiga is a brilliant actress, and I’m curious what she can do behind the camera.

Our Idiot Brother – Aug. 26

Because it’s Paul Rudd doing… Paul Rudd.  Which can either work well, or fall flat.  But with Elizabeth Banks, Zooey Deschanel and Emily Mortimer playing his sisters, I’m game.

2011 Summer Movie Calendar

Titles link you to trailers.  Dates subject to change.

May 13

Bridesmaids

Priest

May 20

Midnight in Paris

Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides

May 26

The Hangover Part II

May 27

Tree of Life

Kung Fu Panda 2

June 3

Beginners

Film Socialisme

X-Men: First Class

June 10

Super 8

The Trip

June 17

Green Lantern

Bad Teacher

Mr. Popper’s Penguins

June 24

A Better Life

Cars 2

Page One: A Year Inside The New York Times

July 1

Transformers: Dark of the Moon

Larry Crowne

July 8

One Day

Project Nim

July 15

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part II

Tabloid

Winnie the Pooh

July 22

Another Earth

Captain America: The First Avenger

Friends with Benefits

July 29

Cowboys & Aliens

Crazy, Stupid, Love

The Smurfs

Aug. 5

The Change-Up

Rise of the Planet of the Apes

Aug. 12

30 Minutes or Less

Final Destination 5

The Help

Higher Ground

Aug. 19

Conan the Barbarian

Fright Night

Spy Kids 4: All the Time in the World

Aug. 26

Apollo 18

Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark

Our Idiot Brother

The Beaver

A very peculiar thing happened to me about halfway through The Beaver.  As I sat in the theatre, staring intently at the movie screen, I suddenly snapped out of a trance I didn't even know I was in.  I took a moment to figure out what the hell had happened.  And then it hit me.  At some point during the first 45 minutes of the film, I had taken a serious interest in the movie and its characters.  Simply put: I was, beyond all reasonable doubt, enjoying myself.

I preface this with certain air of skepticism because, well… take your pick.  It’s a film that stars Mel Gibson, who, at this point, will probably be forever remembered more for his actions off screen than on.  It’s called… The Beaver, which most anyone could have a field day with given its common association with the female reproductive organ.  It has one of the most unintentionally hysterical trailers of recent memory, and… you get it.  Basically, The Beaver had nothing going for it.  But I’m here to tell you (again, behind all reasonable doubt) that The Beaver is not only worthwhile, but pretty damn engrossing too.

If you haven’t been privy to the film’s trailer, or read a basic plot description, then bear with me, as I know how ridiculous it sounds.  Walter Black, the CEO of a slumming toy company, is depressed.  He pops pills, shrinks his head on couches, sleeps incessantly, barely speaks, and so on.  The dude is down and out, with not a clue why.  After two years of this, two major things happen: Walter’s unwaveringly patient wife kicks him out, and he discovers a puppet beaver in a dumpster.  Soon enough, he’s a new man, full of life with a toy beaver on his right hand.  He moves back home, regains control of his company, hits the morning show circuit, and so on.  But there’s just one minor setback: Walter can only communicate through the beaver, using an infectiously catchy cockney accent.  He refers to himself in the third person, takes it in the shower, and even kisses his wife with it.  Yeah, it’s weird, but it’s working, so… roll with it?

And that’s just the thing, if you as an audience member can roll with the premise of the beaver as well as most of the characters in the film do, then you should be good.  Me?  I decided to cut Mr. Gibson some slack and judge his performance based solely on his performance.  The result is, in no uncertain terms, rather astounding.  Gibson does wonders as Walter.  You can credit Gibson's faults as a man for allowing him to so perfectly encapsulate the paralytic nature of depression on screen, and so be it.  Who cares?  We’re here for the performance, and damn if Gibson doesn’t deliver a surefire one.

Helping him achieve this, exponentially, is his director, co star, and perhaps most importantly, real life friend, Jodie Foster.  As Walter’s wife, Foster arguably has the most challenging role in the film.  She has to play off Walter’s wavering philosophies, and do it in a way that’s believable.  Foster is the audience’s compass; if she failed, the film would have failed. 

Her role as a director, it must be said, is nowhere near as flashy as her acting.  Her camera work is sturdy, her music is helpful, her editing is precise.  Basically… it’s pretty standard stuff.

Don’t get me wrong, The Beaver is by no means perfect.  There are uninteresting subplots (the film spends a little too much time with Walter’s teenage son), and the script veers slightly off course toward the end, but it still makes for an enjoyable experience.  For example, there is a scene late in the third act, which I won’t reveal, that runs entirely too long and turns unintentionally satirical.  But, because of Gibson’s performance, the faults in the script are easily overlooked.

Walter Black is the perfect role for Mel Gibson right now. Should this end up being Gibson’s final starring role, well, then, it’s a hell of a swan song to close the curtain on.  B+

Nine Worthy, non-Animated, G-rated Films

A few weeks ago, as I found myself once again mesmerized by Werner Herzog’s contemporary masterpiece, Encounters at the End of the World, a random thought popped into my head:  What would a film like this be rated?  I soon discovered that Herzog’s documentary about human life on Antarctica is rated G, which, despite some brief interview dialogue about murder, isn’t too much of a surprise.

But it got me to thinking: what other great, non-animated, non-family oriented films are rated G?  The following list is not meant to provoke shock reactions (although, yes, it is inconceivable that David Lynch has made a G-rated film, and a great one at that) but rather to entice interest.

Note: While the MPAA rating system was officially created in 1968, the rating system as we know it today wasn’t fully established until 1990.  Point being, even if some of the titles below were released before 1968, the MPAA has since officially rated them G.

The Longest Day (1962)

The G-rated war film isn’t as rare as you’d think.  Tora! Tora! Tora!, The Green Berets and many more are all considered, by the MPAA anyway, to be fun for the whole family.  This D-Day epic, starring pretty much every famous white actor of the 40s and 50s, may not be the most realistic war film ever made (Saving Private Ryan this is not) but it carries enough star power to last through its laborious running time. 

A Hard Day’s Night (1964)

The ingenious mockumentary starring The Beatles in the height of Beatlemania, is a real breeze.  From its opening chase scene to its plentiful musical performances, there isn’t a single cause why people of all ages can’t enjoy this flick.  There’s a reason Roger Ebert said, “After more than three decades, [A Hard Day’s Night] has not aged and is not dated; it stands outside its time, its genre and even rock. It is one of the great life-affirming landmarks of the movies.”

2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

The best film of Stanley Kubrick’s career (and of the 60s in general), is a G-rated, mind boggling masterpiece.  For a film whose most violent scene is an ape beating another ape to death, it’s not very surprising that 2001 is rated G.  No matter.  Kubrick’s methodic, slow-paced, transformative film is a cerebral movie-watching experience if there ever was one, not to mention the most influential inclusion to the science fiction genre.  If you’ve never been privy to Kubrick’s groovy ride, then loosen up, sit down, and, as the tagline suggest, enjoy “The Ultimate Trip.”

True Grit (1969)

Apparently a film with a foul-mouthed, misogynistic, alcoholic main character is suitable for everyone.  But a movie containing a scene in which a teenage girl gets whipped repeatedly by a grown man?  Not to mention the copious amount of shootings and on-screen deaths?  It’s funny, the same MPAA that labeled the original True Grit as fun for the whole family, is the same organization that won’t let the soon to be King of England drop four consecutive F-bombs.  I suppose if The Duke were to be said King, everything would’ve been hunky, PG-13 friendly, dory.

Brian's Song (1971)

While it initially premiered as a Movie of the Week on ABC, the MPAA cited Brian’s Song – often dubbed as the film most likely to make grown men cry – with a G rating for its subsequent video release.  And while the film version of Brian Piccolo’s friendship with Gale Sayers, and Piccolo’s subsequent fight with terminal cancer, may come off as a little corny, it’s definitely enough to get the water works flowing.  Hell, even the line “I love Brian Piccolo,” made Turtle and Johnny Drama shed a few.

Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971)

Sure, this zany classic is a perfectly fitting G-rated movie.  But, seriously, am I the only one who was scared shitless by the tunnel scene as a kid?   The shrieking music, the speeding boat, the trippy lights, Gene Wilder’s exacerbated face; it’s as if everyone on set dropped a couple hits of acid before the director yelled action.  Come to think of it, the entire film plays out like one extended acid trip.  Regardless, I enjoy the ride, everytime.

The Straight Story (1999)

You wouldn’t think that the same warped brain behind Eraserhead, Blue Velvet, Twin Peaks, Lost Highway and Mulholland Dr. could actually pull off a delightful G-rated flick.  But alas, David Lynch never ceases to amaze.  The Straight Story, Lynch’s most endearing film since his flawless Elephant Man, is a simple, true tale about an elderly fellow who traveled across the country on his lawnmower to reunite with his estranged brother.  The film is indeed simple (hence the title) but no less great.  Richard Farnsworth, in his final screen role, delivers a career-best performance, while cinematographer Freddie Francis and musician Angelo Badalamenti lend their exceptional skills to what turns out to be rather brilliant slice of Lynchian life.

The Winslow Boy (1999)

Just as shocking as David Lynch’s addition to the G rating is David Mamet, the contemporary master of profane and demeaning dialogue. Because, let’s be honest, no one says “fuck” like a Mamet character.  And watching The Winslow Boy, you can just picture Mamet sitting behind the camera, wearing a sly grin on his face, silently mocking the MPAA with his heartfelt, profanity-free film.  But, it must be said, while I thoroughly enjoyed The Winslow Boy as an exercise, it ain’t no fuckin’ Glengarry Glen Ross.

Encounters at the End of the World (2008)

Werner Herzog seems completely immune to most of the trivial aspects of life.  This notion rings exponentially true in the making of his films.  Documentary or narrative?  Fact or fiction? It matters not.  Life is all he’s concerned with.  He doesn’t fancy himself with large crews and detailed sets; he simply gets an idea, and goes with it.  In this case, Herzog traveled to Antarctica with only his cameraman to document the daily lives of people who inhabit the nearly isolated continent.  What he captures, incidentally, forms the film that Herzog was born to make.  Most of the people he comes across are nearly as eccentric as him, lending itself to some fascinating stories, not to mention breathtaking backdrops. This would be the perfect film to play silently at a dinner party on that brand new HDTV you bought.  Undeniably glorious.

POM Wonderful Presents The Greatest Movie Ever Sold

Product placement in movies is nothing new.  It’s one of the main reasons Back to the Future (and its first sequel) was able to afford its massive budget.  It allowed for one of the funniest, most memorable moments in Wayne’s World (“But it’s the taste… of a new…generation”), and it made film history’s most lovable alien synonymous with yellow and orange colored candies.

But those are just a few cute examples.  The other stuff - the subliminal messages, the in-your-face, down-your-throat gimmicks – are what seem to urk, or perhaps more appropriately, arose suspicion, with self-made documentarian Morgan Spurlock. 

Spurlock, whose work, quite frankly, has been on a loll since his great television show 30 Days, was made to make the greatest movie ever sold.

His idea, as they always are, is rather simple: make a movie about product placement in films that is funded solely by sponsors who will have their products placed in his film.

So for the first act, Spurlock travels around the country trying to land big name sponsors to feature in, and pay for, his movie. But given the controversy that is often accompanied with his name (the dude didn’t exactly do wonders for McDonald’s) Spurlock finds himself striking out more than he expected.  After dozens of cold calls and yeah, we’ll think about its, Spurlock gets lucky with POM Wonderful Pomegranate Juice, who offer him a solid million to be the head sponsor of his film.

This explains why the film’s title is preceded by “POM Wonderful Presents” (as opposed to, say, 20^th Century Fox Presents), and why Spurlock has been hitting the late night show circuit wearing a Nascar-motivated suit with each of his sponsors blatantly stitched into his blazer.

Once the rest of the sponsorship contracts come through, Spurlock has a tough time making each of his clients happy.  He can only stay in Hyatt hotels, only pump gas from Sheetz, only drink POM, only fly JetBlue, only drive a Mini Cooper, only eat Amy’s Pizza, and so on.

The problem with the film - and I can only see one, although it is rather nagging - is that I’m not exactly sure what Spurlock is trying to say.  Is he annoyed with products being so unashamedly placed in our movies or on our TV shows?  Does he think it is devaluing entertainment?  Does he think the way he funded his movie is a potential way for other movies to secure financing?  I’m not sure. But maybe that’s the point.  After nearly killing himself via McDonald’s, Spurlock never had a statement to declare.  He never once said, “Oh, no, don’t eat fast food.” Instead, he let us decide what to do by watching him act as a guinea pig. 

At his best (as with Super Size Me, and certain episodes of 30 Days) Spurlock’s lack of message is wholly refreshing.  At its worst (seriously, did anyone other than me see Where In the World is Osama bin Laden?) his style is annoyingly vague.  

Perhaps Brett Ratner (a director whose body of work I could care less about) sums it up best.  In The Greatest Movie Ever Sold he tells Spurlock that, “You start making a movie and one day two guys in suits come to the set and tell you that you’re going to feature this product in your scene.  So… you feature that product in your scene.  If a character in your film has to drive a car, why not make it a car that could help finance your film?” 

Amen to that?  Again, I’m not sure.  And, most satisfyingly, neither is Spurlock. A-

(Note: for more about the motivations behind his film, check out the AV Club’s April interview with Spurlock here)

5 Movies that Responded to 9/11 (when no one else would)

It goes without saying now, but when 9/11 happened, the entire world, including Hollywood, freaked the fuck out. Soon after the attacks, Spider-Man re-edited it’s trailer, Training Day, despite its L.A. setting, pushed back its release, Ben Stiller erased a shot of the Twin Towers from Zoolander, Men in Black II had to rewrite its entire ending, and so on.

But once the dust began to settle, one thing became clear: people wanted their entertainment.  In the months following 9/11, comedies, action flicks and family films all saw a massive surge in box office business.  People were tired of recycled news clips and talking heads and whispers of war; they were tired, in short, of reality.

After a year or so, the debate started: at what point is “too soon” not too soon?  When can we make a movie about 9/11, or at least one about its lasting effects?  Hollywood steered clear, independent financing for small films fell through, and, perhaps most importantly, commercial audiences remained pleasantly vacant from reality, at least while inside the cozy boundaries of a movie theatre.

Then, with one audacious stroke of genius, Spike Lee released 25^th Hour, the first narrative film to not only acknowledge the events of 9/11 but to actually have its characters placed in a post-9/11 world.  Say what you will about Spike Lee (yeah, he’s kind of an asshole), but what he did with 25^th Hour can never be overlooked.  Incase current events have any of you feeling nostalgic, here are a few other post-9/11 films that deserve to be remembered and revisited.

25^th Hour (2002)

I’ve only just touched on the power this film carries.  From its extended opening credit sequence, in which Terrance Blanchard’s gorgeous horned instruments thunder over shots of the Twin Towers spotlight memorial, we know we’re in for something jarring. 

I’ll never forget the first time I saw this movie.  I stared wide-eyed as Barry Pepper and Philip Seymour Hoffman walked over to a window in Pepper’s hot-shit apartment, a crane shot slowly revealing the holes left by the vacant Twin Towers below.  And I leaned forward, jaw hung open, as Edward Norton ferociously screamed “Fuck You” to Osama bin Laden and “backward-ass cave-dwelling fundamentalist assholes everywhere.”

25^th Hour is a masterpiece, its bold and frank handle on 9/11 is just the beginning.

Fahrenheit 9/11 (2004)

Much like Spike Lee (and a few other artists on this list), you can say what you will about Michael Moore.  For the record, I’m not terribly fond of Michael Moore, the man, but I can’t deny the talent that lies in Michael Moore, the filmmaker.

Conservatives found Fahrenheit 9/11 cheap and biased, and I agree with that to a point.  Give me 400 hours of footage on any one person (seriously, anyone) and I can edit the footage to make that person look like a fumbling moron.  While you may or may not agree with Moore’s politics, Fahrenheit 9/11 was a revelation to the documentary genre.  It quickly become the highest grossing documentary of all time (and the only one to pass the $100 million mark), and helped several on-the-fencers quickly decide who they’d vote for come November.

The result obviously didn’t work the way Moore hoped, but the movie, needless to say, caused one hell of a stir.

United 93 (2006)

When the teaser trailer for United 93 was released, theatres were filled with vile screams of “Too Soon!” while others threatened protests and bans.  But once Paul Greengrass’s film debuted at the Tribecca Film Festival in the spring of 2006, the idle threats ceased, and people took United 93 for what it was: a frank, cinema vérité examination of what happened on the fateful plane that never reached its targeted destination.

Greengrass did the story right: he used completely unknown actors (or in many cases, cast people as themselves), shot in gritty handheld, didn’t overly dramatize it or try to create a hero; he showed it like it was, or at least, like we can assume.

Soon after I saw United 93, which was the most gut-wrenching theatre-going experience I’ve ever had, I told people it was the most suspenseful, honest film I’d ever seen, a statement I stick by today.

Make no mistake, United 93 is not easy viewing, it’s real and raw and down to the bone.  But that’s the way it needed to be done.  That’s the only way it could have been done.

World Trade Center (2006)

If United 93 is the unflinching, blunt realization of the events of 9/11, then Oliver Stone’s World Trade Center is its warm and fuzzy counterpart. That isn’t a knock (well, not entirely), because World Trade Center does succeed in many areas.  All of the main principals involved, including Stone, his screenwriter, and his actors, do John McLoughlin and Will Jimeno’s story of survival a great justice. 

The film is a heartwarming and endearing take on the best of human nature, set on a day that showed the worst of human nature.  World Trade Center may have been too glorified for some viewers, but for others, that’s exactly the kind of delicate touch they needed.

Rescue Me (2004-2011)

Denis Leary’s often remarkable, always unwavering television show about firefighters pulling shifts in a post-9/11 New York City, can often come off as brash as its creator.  Which, if you’ve tuned in during the show’s six season run, ain’t always a good thing.

Rescue Me hasn’t always been great - or hell, even that good - but it’s always been honest and upfront about the world it inhabits.  Desperately trying to chase away his Ground Zero nightmares with booze and broads, Tommy Gavin (Leary) is one of contemporary television’s best, most flawed characters.   

Leary, through his writing and acting, has always kept the show grounded.  And although he promises that the series’ finale this September will be “funny, dramatic, shocking and satisfying,” I’ll be sad to see it go.  Honestly, who better than Denis Leary to remind us all to reflect, and dare not forget?

Fast Five

There’s a scene early in Fast Five, the fastest and probably most furious flick in the franchise yet, that, despite completely defying the most fundamental laws of physics and gravity, is a real kick-ass rush.  Convict Dom (Vin Diesel), ex fed Brian (Paul Walker), vixen Mia (Jordana Brewster) and a slew of other badasses, boost a few cars from a moving freight train, and, naturally, escape near death.  Save Justin Bieber’s encore of “Baby” in Never Say Never, Fast Five’s Great Freight Train Robbery is the best action scene Hollywood has produced this year. 

That’s the skinny on Fast Five: it’s a good popcorn flick that does well at what it wants to do well at (stunts, loud noises, explosions, car chases, short skirts), which is to say… Fast Five is completely decent, as long as the characters aren’t actually involved in any sort of verbal communication.

When they aren’t setting up overtly “necessary” plot exposition (something about nabbing $100 mil from a corrupt Rio businessman) then the characters subject us to endless banter pertaining to shit no one cares about, using dialogue no one can nearly begin to comprehend. 

The greatest offender of Chris Morgan’s poetic words is Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, who plays some off-the-grid special agent tasked with bringing Dom and Brian down.  You may forget that, despite having established himself as a credible box office draw, The Rock got is formal acting training within the confines of a wrestling ring.  Case in point:

Random Cop: Well, I’ve got good news and bad news.

The Rock: You know I like my dessert first.

Random Cop: [delivers endless, incompressible “good news”]

The Rock: Now give me the damn veggies.

Random Cop: [delivers endless, incompressible “bad news”]

This is pretty much how most of the movie plays out: ridiculous plot details in the form of soft-core porn-appropriate dialogue, bookended with two good action scenes.  After Tokyo Drift (which, apparently takes place in 2030, or something) and 2009’s Fast & Furious, (which, apparently took place before Tokyo Drift, or something) Fast Five marks Justin Lin’s third Fast and Furious directorial effort.  Lin has some talent (as is evident in his underrated Better Luck Tomorrow from 2002), but as this franchise keeps churning, Lin’s talent keeps dwindling. 

Part six is already in the works.  So let’s do a head count: we’ve been to L.A., Miami, Tokyo, Dominican Republic, and Rio.  At what point do we get Fast and Furious and Space?  Fast and Furious and Underwater?  Any takers?  Shit, I’d see that.  D+

Jack Nicholson: Four Decades of Genius

Today is a few things.  A day for people of faith and people of the hippie persuasion to rejoice simultaneously (although, probably not for the same reason).  What it also happens to be, perhaps most importantly for our purposes, is Jack Nicholson’s 74^th birthday.

Honestly, who the hell can pick a favorite Nicholson performance?  Sure, the go-to answer is One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.  But is R.P. McMurphy a better incarnation than J.J. Gittes?  What about The Shining?  It is, after all, impossible to think of Jack Nicholson without picturing Jack Torrance’s head forcing its way through an ax hole in a door.  

The Joker, Col. Jessep, Melvin Udall, Warren Schmidt, Frank Costello; these are indelible characters to the film medium, all portrayed by one of the most charismatic dudes to ever shield a pair of Ray-Bans.

But looking on Nicholson’s IMDB page, I was hit with a harsh realization: he was only in six movies last decade, two of which sucked (Anger Management, The Bucket List), one was phoned in (Something’s Gotta Give) one nobody saw (The Pledge) one was masterful (About Schmidt) and the final was hyperbolic bliss (The Departed).

Instead of picking a favorite role, let’s track Nicholson’s career by decade. Hopefully my choices will dissuade you from the filth littering our theatres, and force you to stay in with Old Jacky Boy this weekend.

70s

(Note: For the purpose of conciseness, I’m detailing Nicholson’s career from 1970 onward, thereby skipping over Easy Rider.  Easy Rider is a great film, but we don’t have all day here.)

Role count: 15

Highlights:

Five Easy Pieces (1970) – Robert Dupea

The Last Detail (1973) – Buddusky

Chinatown (1974) – J.J. Gittes

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1975) – R.P. McMurphy [Won Oscar]

The Missouri Breaks (1976) – Tom Logan

Assuming you’ve seen Chinatown and Cuckoo’s Nest (if you haven’t, then, you know, do…) let me suggest the little seen Last Detail.  In The Last Detail, which is, for my money, Hal Ashby’s best film, Nicholson plays a naval officer ordered to take a fellow soldier to prison, but decides to show him one last good time before dropping him at the clink.  The film is brilliant in the way it seamlessly shifts from drama to comedy, and is anchored by a profanely iconic Nicholson performance.

80s

Role count: 12

Highlights:

The Shining (1980) – Jack Torrance

Reds (1981) – Eugene O’Neill

Terms of Endearment (1983) – Garrett Breedlove [Won Oscar]

Prizzi’s Honor (1985) – Charley Partanna

The Witches of Eastwick (1987) – Daryl Van Horne

Broadcast News (1987) – Bill Rorich

Batman (1989) – The Joker

Terms of Endearment is interesting because it highlights a kind, venerable side of Nicholson that is rarely seen, while The Shining and Batman crazily emphasize the other end of his spectrum.  But for some reason, I feel the need to point out Nicholson’s brief but memorable turn in Broadcast News. 

Broadcast News is mostly remembered for what Holly Hunter, William Hurt and Albert Brooks brought to their respective roles.  But you can’t deny the power of Nicholson coming into frame in his few brief scenes.  For his role, Nicholson requested that he not be paid, nor advertised in the marketing campaign, as to not take away from the principal cast members. His presence in the film knocks the wind out of the characters, and in turn, the audience as well.    

90s

Role count: 10

Highlights:

The Two Jakes (1990) – J.J. Gittes

A Few Good Men (1992) – Col. Nathan R. Jessep

Hoffa (1992) – Jimmy Hoffa

The Crossing Guard (1995) – Freddy Gale

As Good as It Gets (1997) – Melvin Udall [Won Oscar]

Gotta love Melvin Udall and his hilariously un-PC one liners, but let’s be honest, it’s all about Jessep.  Based on Nicholson’s game changing performance in A Few Good Men, I’ve since dubbed similar characters as having a “Jessep Complex.” As soon as you see them, you fear them.  We know nothing about his character or his motivations, but as soon as Nicholson blurts out: “Who the fuck is Pfc. William Santiago?” we know we’re in for a hell of a ride.

2000s

Role count: six

Highlights:

The Pledge (2001) – Jerry Black

About Schmidt (2002) – Warren Schmidt

The Departed (2006) – Frank Costello

If Chinatown and Cuckoo’s Nest encapsulate the best of young Nicholson, then About Schmidt is the perfect embodiment of old Nicholson. Nicholson’s Warren Schmidt is unlike any other character he’s given us: reserved, heartfelt, and… ordinary.  He's a kind, bumbling man that you wouldn’t pay the slightest attention to if walking past him in the grocery store.  He’s an everyday Joe.  A regular fella.  And Nicholson couldn’t have handled it better.  I could make a strong argument that About Schmidt is the best performance of Jack Nicholson’s career.

As of April, 2011: Of the titles mentioned, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, The Shining, Batman, Hoffa, The Pledge, and Anger Management are available on Netflix Instant Play.

Endlessly Rewatchable: Ocean’s 11

A funny thing happened last night.  Lately, I’ve been slogging my way through the Sidney Lumet films I haven’t yet seen.  Up last night was Lumet’s The Pawnbroker, starring a nearly unrecognizable Rod Steiger as a quiet, Jewish pawnbroker internally suffering from the Nazi persecution he endured decades ago.

About 45 minutes into the movie, I completely passed out, which, for me, is extremely rare.  I was out for a good hour, and by the time I came to, my TV was stuck on The Pawnbroker’s looping DVD menu.  Accepting that it was best to cut my losses and not attempt round two with the heavy handed, black and white drama, I turned on the TV, and aimlessly began flipping through in a half-dream state.

(For the record, what I saw of The Pawnbroker was good, damn good in fact.  I have every intention of finishing it later tonight.)

After a few moments, I stopped on HBO, which was playing Steven Soderbergh’s Ocean’s 11.  And that’s when something amusing occurred to me.  Ocean’s 11 is a clever, breezy film that I’ve always enjoyed.  But before last night, I had no idea how endlessly rewatchable it is.

Let me explain.  When I settled on Ocean’s 11 last night, the movie was well into its second act.  (I think I came in when Matt Damon’s character is describing to Brad Pitt how Terry Benedict is “a machine.” Again… I was half asleep.)

I had every intention of watching the movie only until I was awake enough to crawl my ass up to bed. But lo and behold, I sat and watched the flick for its duration.  Laughing at all the lines I always laugh at, raising my eyebrows at all the editing and camera techniques I’m always impressed by, and so on.  In fact, the only time I got up from the couch was to get a Stella from the fridge.

I don’t know what it is about Ocean’s 11 that’s so appealing.  The plentiful marquee stars fitting seamlessly into their roles, Ted Griffin’s sneaky (and flawless) dialogue, Peter Andrews’ (a Soderbergh pseudonym) hip, European cinematography, David Holmes’ revelatory score, the sleek costumes; it all just works.  (Full disclosure: I recently watched the HBO documentary His Way, about legendary Hollywood producer, and Ocean’s 11 financer, Jerry Weintraub, which, I’m sure, contributed to my Ocean’s 11 interest.)

Ocean’s 11 isn’t Soderbergh’s best film, in fact, on the Directors section of this blog, I cited Soderbergh’s sex, lies and videotape, Out of Sight, Traffic and Solaris as being as good, or better, than Ocean’s 11.  What it is, however, is a rare Hollywood hybrid that doesn’t treat its audience like morons.  It’s smart, fun, and wholly entertaining.  Which is why every single time I come across it, I stop and watch for a few minutes (or, in the case of last night, until the end.)

What about you?  What are some of your favorite middle-of-the-night, half-asleep, watch-until-the-end flicks?

Scream 4

Back in 1996, a modest little movie completely changed the horror genre.  And it did it during its first 10 minutes.  When the poor parents of Drew Barrymore opened their front door to see their teenage daughter gutted and hanging from a tree swing, the slasher flick was never the same.

The original Scream was a revelation.  It boasted all the best qualities of a horror film in all the best ways.  The scares were scary, the thrills were thrilling, and the gore was gory.  But it also had something that most horror films do not: a genuine sense of humor.  A lot of contemporary scary films are unintentionally funny, usually due to bad acting and/or an unconvincing story.  But Scream, with its hip script and fresh faced cast, was great in the way it poked fun at the horror genre and its faults, all while poking fun at itself.

Scream’s sequel, in which the surviving players were terrorized by a new Ghostface at college, was a worthy followup, but with a lame ending.  Scream 3 was a forgettable, Hollywood-set, addition to the franchise.  And now we get the completely unnecessary Scream 4, which aims to do what the first film did, but (mostly) fails miserably.

Like the first 10 minutes of the original, the opening of Scream 4 proves to carry its best, most spirited sequence.  A slew of scenes that allow franchise director Wes Craven to not only poke fun at the horror nonsense that is now typically associated with the genre (i.e. torture porn) but also at his franchise in general.  But once the title card flashes onscreen, you can kiss the fun byebye and welcome a tired plot that is as dull as what Craven apparently seems to love ridiculing.

On the anniversary of the original Woodsboro murders, Sidney Prescott (a why-the-hell-did-I-agree-to-do-this Neve Campbell) returns home to promote her new self help book.  Needless to say, a new Ghostface starts offing people, leaving Sherriff Dewey (David Arquette) and his has-been tabloid journalist wife, Gale Weathers (Courtney Cox) to hunt yet another black caped killer.

In addition to the principal cast, a number of horror-film obsessed youngins show up to clue the audience in via neverending scenes of expository dialogue.  The best of the bunch being Sidney’s cousin Jill (Emma Roberts) and her best friend Kirby (a fiery Hayden Panettiere).  The movie cuts back and forth between the old generation and the new, and ultimately teams them together to catch the killer.  Yawn. 

Look, I wasn’t expecting much from Scream 4, and aside from its opening moments and scene stealing performances from Panettiere and Cox, there’s nothing really to write home about.  I do find it funny, however, that a film so concerned with making fun of itself doesn’t take the time to really examine its story and try to be, you know, a scream.  D+

Sidney Lumet: An Auteur in Passing

This past Sunday saw the passing of a legend.  A director whose streetwise influences are blatantly apparent in much of the inferior crime drivel that litters our contemporary theatres every year.  Sidney Lumet’s career, while not without its faults, was one of eclipsing landmarks.

Throughout his career, he directed one of the best scripted films of all time (12 Angry Men), one of the best cop dramas of all time (Serpico), one (actually, probably the) best bank robbery films of all time (Dog Day Afternoon), one (actually, probably the) best show business films of all time (Network), one of the best courtroom dramas of all time (The Verdict), and the best modern crime film in years (Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead).

When a cinematic innovator dies, my first instinct is to rush and try to watch as much of their work as I can.  But time is a wastin’, so instead of offering thoughts on films I’ve only seen once, here’s what I think of a slew of classics, all, rather incredibly, directed by one man.

12 Angry Men (1957)

Twelve guys in a room deliberate on an open-and-shut murder case.  One guy isn’t convinced.  What follows is motion picture bliss.  12 Angry Men is a masterpiece; it’s brilliantly executed on every level of the cinematic medium. The sneaky camera work, the tricky screenplay, and, oh yeah, there’s some good acting in it too.  The first time I saw this film, I marveled at how well it deceived and guided me, feats it continues to do today. It’s a flawless work of art, one of the best film directing debuts in history.

Serpico (1973)

Running off the coattails of his Godfather success, Al Pacino plays real life cop Frank Serpico – who was harassed, preyed upon and nearly executed for exposing corruption within the NYPD – with the standard, innocent appeal of his young self.  The star (and his performance) ultimately outshined the overall film, but that matters little.  Serpico is a well-paced, multifaceted cop drama that never dare lets the tension break.

Murder on the Orient Express (1974)

A cast of superstars (Albert Finney, Lauren Bacall, Sean Connery, Ingrid Bergman, Jacqueline Bisset and Anthony Perkins, to name a few) worked for pennies to bring Agatha Christie’s crime mystery to the screen.  The result is a teasing, twisting, turning film that keeps you guessing up until Finney’s epic closing monologue.  I’ve seen this flick several times, and can never accurately predict the outcome.

Dog Day Afternoon (1975)

Honestly, what’s to say?  The best bank robbery film of all time tells the true story of two well-intentioned chums who execute a robbery so poorly, that we can’t help but sympathize with him.  Al Pacino, in the finest performance of his career, is utterly magnetic as Sonny.  His desperation practically bleeds through the screen, it’s that genuine.  His aimless partner in crime, played by the remarkable John Cazale, is equally as convincing.  The fact that there may be people reading this post who haven’t seen this film is, well, rather disheartening.  Dog Day Afternoon is one of my top ten films of all time.  Get crackin’, folks.

Network (1976)

From its defining “As mad as hell” rage onward, Network is a surefire masterpiece.  It details the horror, obsession, idolization, and lunacy of show business better than any other film to date.  Its performances are unblemished (it won three acting Oscars, a record matched only by A Streetcar Named Desire), its directing is frenetic, its Paddy Chayefsky-penned screenplay is ingenious, and its legacy is untainted.  There just isn’t a whole hell of a lot I can say that does a film like this fair justice.

The Verdict (1982)

In The Verdict, Paul Newman gives what may or may not be the best performance of his career (for my money, it runs a close second to his work in Cool Hand Luke). Just watch his first scene.  Newman – portraying a down and out, alcoholic lawyer – stands at the foot of his favorite pinball machine, located in his preferred dive bar.  He plays slowly, methodically, without saying a word.  The man is acting… with his shoulders.  The simplicity of the scene grabs you right away, and the conviction of the rest of the film keeps you.

Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead (2007)

Skip ahead a few decades and you’ll find one hell of a pulverizing family crime drama.  The film – which chronicles the setup of a jewelry store heist and its disastrous fallout – was revered by critics and commercially ignored.  Why?  Its narrative is original as all hell, its acting is gritty and raw (namely by a never-better Philip Seymour Hoffman), and it’s script is so cleverly jarring, that it’ll leave your jaw dropped.  Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead is endlessly appealing in its subtle brutality; a great swan song for one of America’s finest auteurs.  

Your Highness

Your Highness, despite starring a more than capable cast with a genius director calling the shots, is an utter disaster, arguably the worst movie I’ve seen so far this year. Which means I’m admitting that a movie starring Justin Bieber is better than one starring Natalie Portman.

In Your Highness, a straight laced would-be king Fabious (James Franco) recruits his stoned out younger brother Thadeous (Danny McBride) to rescue Fabious’ bride to be (Zooey Deschanel), who is being held captive by a horny sorcerer (Justin Theroux). Along their journey, the brothers run into the bow and arrow yielding Isabel (Natalie Portman) who helps them achieve their quest.

You get it. There’s nothing new going on here. Maybe McBride, who co-wrote the idiotic script, and director David Gordon Green were attempting a new riff at the Monty Python formula. Yeah, maybe. Problem is, the Monty Python flicks are, you know, funny.

I could sit here and rattle on for paragraph after paragraph about how successfully this film fails on all levels, but, to be perfectly honest, that would be a waste of our time. Instead, let me focus on the film’s most heartbreaking aspect.

In 2000, a quiet, sensational film called George Washington (which has nothing to do with the President, but everything to do with human emotion) hit the indie scene like a firestorm. Its director, an awkwardly shaped, introverted 25 year old, was hailed as his generation’s Terrence Mallick. Then something odd happened: in 2003, he did it again, this time with All the Real Girls. The something even stranger happened: in 2004, he did it again, this time with Undertow. Then, just when us loyal followers were sure he had peaked, David Gordon Green released Snow Angels, one of the very best films of 2007 (which, by the way, was a sensational year for American cinema).

But I’d venture a guess that most of you haven’t heard of any of those films. Which is why, I assume, Green made Pineapple Express a few years ago. He saw a way to give the stoner comedy a fresh spin, and (finally) make some serious cash. The effort paid off. Pineapple Express, while nowhere near as good as his previous films, grossed nearly triple its budget.

I get that, there’s nothing wrong with deviating from your indie street cred to sell out temporarily. But what the hell was Green thinking with Your Highness? I hope pray plead that Your Highness is Green’s career slum, and loyal fans should afford him that. I mean, hell, even Scorsese made New York New York.

IMDB says Green’s next film is a comedy about a suspended college student who is “fully unprepared” for a “wild night” of babysitting. The film stars Sam Rockwell (good start), Jonah Hill (sigh) and… Method Man? David Gordon Green... come back…please. D-

Hanna

What a badass little flick this is.  In Hanna, Saoirse Ronan (a real spitfire of an actress, who’s got “star” written all over her) kicks some serious ass as a ferocious girl trained by her father (Eric Bana, reliable as ever) to kill the cold hearted, career-driven woman who ruined their family (a steely cool Cate Blanchett).  The plot is nothing new, the execution, however, is exhilarating.

The film starts in the barren, chilled wilderness of nowhere; just Hanna and Papa, going through the motions, creating a killing machine one pushup at a time.  We notice a few things right away: the caffeinated (yet controlled) editing, the stylized cinematography, the lurking music, which all appeal in the best possible way.  Hanna soon makes her way to civilization, and we’re off and running.

In one hyperkinetic sequence, as Hanna escapes from would be captures in some sort of deserted CIA-ish lair, the film seriously takes off.  The Chemical Brothers’ original score pulsates through the speakers as Alwin Kuchler’s camera spins and twirls through a complex tunnel system, all cut seamlessly with Paul Tothill’s feel for manic montage.  Watching that scene, only one word came to mind: badass.

That feeling was repeated later, in a bravado sequence in which Bana is followed through a city, only to be surrounded by a group of men on a subway platform.  Needless to say, Bana takes them all out with his impressive set of ass kicking skills.  Better still is the fact that the sequence is completed in one long continuous shot. That’s enough to get my eyebrows raised.

The rest of Hanna is filled with reserved, ultra cool CIA lingo, and other spirited moments that keep the adrenaline pumping.  Director Joe Wright, leaps and bounds from his reserved, well done Pride and Prejudice in 2005, is clearly having a blast with Hanna, concerned more with entertaining his audience in a smart way, rather than creating a cinematic masterpiece.

Hanna is fun, a lot of fun, actually.  It may not resonate after you exit the theatre, but it’s enough to top off your tank for all things badass. B

Win Win

Mike Flaherty is down and out.  His law practice is barely surviving on a month to month, client to client basis.  He’s got a wife that loves him, two kids that adore him, a newborn that needs feeding, and a gig as head coach for the local high school’s God awful wrestling team.  He’s getting by, but just barely.

Then he finds a loophole: a not entirely moral, but entirely legal, method to secure an extra $1,500 a month.  Think about that: $1,500 ain’t a whole hell of a lot of money, especially for a family of five with a dwindling law practice, but Mike believes it’s enough, and he carries on appropriately.

That is until Kyle, the teenage grandson of one of Mike’s clients, winds up (through a set of amusing circumstances) practically on his front porch.  After much debate, Kyle, with his bleach blonde hair and indifferent demeanor, is taken in by Mike’s family.  What slowly unfolds is, essentially, a surrogate father and son story.  Mike and Kyle seemingly have nothing in common, but their distinct personalities allow them to understand each other.  Well, that and the fact that Kyle turns out to be a wrestling prodigy, pinning the shit out of anything that moves.

As Mike, Paul Giamatti delivers yet another damn near perfect performance.  Giamatti is the rarest of actors, he’s got the look of a supporting player, but the emotional intensity of De Niro in his prime.  There’s a brief scene between Mike and Kyle right before Kyle takes the mat for the biggest match of his life.  The moment could play out like a typical “Go get ‘em, son,” motivational bore.  But watch what Giamatti does with it.  He keeps his voice inflected just below a yell, and every word sounds like it might crack through tears.  It’s a glorious moment, arguably the best in the film, and Giamatti nails it.   

But there are two people in that scene, and damn if Alex Shaffer doesn’t carry his own weight.  Shaffer plays Kyle with such an impeccable sense of teenage detachment that it’s utterly mystifying to watch.  Win Win is Shaffer’s first role... in anything.  More please.

Rounding out the cast is the ever evolving Amy Ryan as Mike’s wife, underrated comic gem Bobby Cannavale as Mike’s best friend, Jeffrey Tambor as the assistant coach, and Melanie Lynskey as Kyle’s fleeting, drug addicted mother.  Ah, Melanie Lynskey, the remarkable character actress whose come on like a scene stealing hurricane, clipping moments from the likes of Matt Damon (in The Informant), George Clooney (in Up in the Air), Edward Norton (in Leaves of Grass), or an entire film completely (as in Away We Go).  Look out for her, she’ll soon become a seriously leading player.

Melanie Lynskey

Win Win is directed by Tom McCarthy, who made the delightful Station Agent, and the remarkable The Visitor.  Although you probably know McCarthy better for his work as an actor (the other son in law in Meet the Parents, the sleazy journalist in The Wire), McCarthy has a real knack for capturing genuine human nature on film. He can nail the funny and the sad, the quirky and the sincere.  And, in the case of Win Win, therein lies the problem.

Win Win is funny, filled with a slew of laugh out loud moments.  It’s also endearing, filled with a slew of moments that are quite heartbreaking.  In its funniest and most heartfelt moments, Win Win shines.  Where it gets (slightly) lost, however, is in its tonal shifts from one to the other.  At times, the pacing is off, the camera work is decidedly detached, and the screenplay is stale.  Fleeting though those moments of curious disorientation may be, it’s still enough to lower the scope of the film.

Lower, not ruin.  See Win Win, you’ll enjoy it.  Just don’t be surprised if there’s nothing to really talk about after.  B

The Lincoln Lawyer

The Lincoln Lawyer starts off fast a furious with a polished pace that we pray won’t let up. It does, of course, but not before we’re all amicably entertained.

The breezy flick starts off as an amusing character study, chronicling the day-to-day dealings of Mick Haller (Matthew McConaughey, having a blast), a streetwise lawyer who has no qualms about working the cracks in the system to get his clients freed.

During the first 20 minutes of the film, we follow Haller around for a day – getting a drug pusher released here, jetting across town to get a motorcycle thug exonerated there, and so on. We meet a slew of characters, and aren’t yet bogged down but that sinking element that tends to ruin most Hollywood films: the plot.

And here’s where The Lincoln Lawyer (sort of) goes amiss. You see, those first 20 minutes are cool and fun because they don’t have anything to do with the rest of the movie. They’re just great introductory moments for what could be a really groovy character. And then, slowly but surely, we realize that everything we’ve seen was in no way character based, but rather given to us simply to serve the eventual muddled plot.

Simply put: everyone you see and everything you hear will come up later, simply to bow tie the conclusion of the film. This does several things. It makes the movie too neat, it takes the mystery out of the story, and it makes you feel like you’re watching a glorified cop procedural on TNT.

Look, The Lincoln Lawyer isn’t that bad of a film, in fact, it’s one of the better ones I’ve seen so far this year. And, for what it’s worth, McConaughey is actually quite good in it. But when his character takes on a rich boy client (Ryan Phillippe) who may or may not have beaten a hooker halfway to hell, it doesn’t take long for predictability to play out.

For a flick that starts off so well, it’s a bit of a bummer to watch it continuously bite off more than it can chew. And given the film’s modest box office take, maybe audiences agree with the notion that they’re ready to be thrown something a little more challenging. You don’t have to spell everything out for us; we ain’t as dumb as you think. B-

(Side note: There is an absolutely hilarious scene in this film where McConaughey interrogates a jailhouse snitch on the stand. The snitch is played by remarkable character actor Shea Whingham, who was brilliantly zany in his brief role in Bad Lieutenant last year, and can currently be seen as Steve Buscemi’s brother on Boardwalk Empire. Whingham is in three scenes in The Lincoln Laywer, and he steals every second of them. He’s worth the price of admission.)

Insidious

So, the lonely housewife spends her days unpacking her family’s belongings in their new home. Her husband goes to work, her young sons go to school, and she stays home and watches the baby. After a few weeks in the new place, she starts hearing creepy noises, then seeing creepy things.

That’s the plot to about a dozen movies I can name off the top of my head, but for our purposes, we’ll tag it as the premise of Insidious, the new horror flick from James Wan, the director of the original Saw.

But Saw (a somewhat brilliant, very original addition to its genre) is about as far as you can get from Insidious. The scares are cheap (quick bursts of stringed music), the plot is incoherent (not at first, but eventually), and the ending is cheap. In short, you know what you’re getting right from the start of Insidious: a familiar plot, a few minor shrills, a lots of eye rolls.

At least Wan put two credible actors in the lead roles (Patrick Wilson and Rose Byrne, along with a lovingly campy Barbara Hershey in a minor role) so the experience isn’t completely excruciating. Regardless, Insidious is nothing new; and when it tries to be, it’s far too little too late. D