the Directors: Paul Thomas Anderson

Like fellow classmates Quentin Tarantino, Spike Jonze, David O. Russell, and Wes Anderson, Paul Thomas Anderson was born from the school of ‘70s American cinema.  Their teachers include Mr. Scorsese, Mr. De Palma, Mr. Coppola, and, most notably for Anderson, Mr. Altman.

Having released five films in 15 years, Anderson may not be the most prolific filmmaker around, but that matters little, considering the breadth of influence he’s brought to the medium.

He can be flashy (the opening shot of Boogie Nights, the TV studio shot in Magnolia), heartfelt (“Will you help me?” from Boogie Nights; “You need to be nicer to me.” from Magnolia), hilarious (Adam Sandler in a Hawaiian phone booth in Punch-Drunk Love; Adam Sandler in a restaurant bathroom in P-D L), horrifying (Daniel Day-Lewis + bowling pin); and all together masterful.

Anderson’s next project – about a WWII vet who creates a new belief system  – is set to begin filming in mid June.  The long-delayed film, which many suspect will act as a metaphor for the birth of Scientology, will star Anderson regular Philip Seymour Hoffman and Joaquin I-Guess-He’s-Acting-Again Phoenix.  Porn, life, love, oil, religion – who cares, it’s PTA.  I’ll be there, and so should you.  Here’s why.

Hard Eight [aka Sydney] (1997)

Many don’t know that a mere eight months before Boogie Nights hit theatres, Anderson’s first feature, Hard Eight (which he prefers to refer to as Sydney), was released domestically.  Despite its edgy script, fluid photography, pulsating music, and the presence of Samuel L. Jackson (fresh off Pulp Fiction) and Gwyneth Paltrow (fresh off Se7en), Hard Eight was a commercial disaster.

Ask Anderson why the movie only grossed $222,000 and he’ll rattle off more reasons than can fit in a DVD commentary.  In short, Anderson clawed and battled the studio every step of the way throughout production.  This is unfortunate, because the movie – about an aging hustler who takes a down-and-outer under his wing – could have been better than it is.  However, Anderson’s trouble with the studio did result in a major plus: from here on out, Anderson refused to make a picture unless he had final cut.  And, considering his age at the time (he was 25 when he made Hard Eight) that is rarer than all hell.

For die hard Anderson fans, Hard Eight is a must.  It amusingly displays the promise of what is to come.  Everyone else can probably just skip straight to Boogie Nights. B+

Favorite scene: I love when a movie tells us how to pull something off, never excluding the slightest details.  Hard Eight does this masterfully when Sydney (Philip Baker Hall) shows John (John C. Reilly) how to recycle a small amount of money through the casino cashier until it appears as if he’s spent thousands of dollars.  

Boogie Nights (1997)

Sharing the coveted title of the most entertaining movie of the ‘90s, (with the likes of Goodfellas and Pulp Fiction) Boogie Nights begins with a bravado opening sequence (introducing all of the main characters in one extended tracking shot) and spends its remaining 150 minutes high off cocaine-fueled adrenaline.  

Set in Los Angeles during the porno industry boom in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s, Boogie Nights chronicles the highs and lows of a local production company and its wildly popular star, Dirk Diggler (Mark Wahlberg, delivering one of the best performances of the decade).  The film isn’t concerned with plot, as it doesn’t contain a shred of it.  Instead, we follow around Jack Horner (Burt Reynolds, never better) and company as they sunbathe by the pool, snort cocaine ceaselessly, engage in casual sex, and occasionally shoot films.

Boogie Nights breaks all the rules.  It steals from other films (Goodfellas, I Am Cuba and Nashville are direct lifts), never lets its music conclude (whether it’s the disco-inspired soundtrack or Michael Penn’s score, or both), introduces main characters in the third act (“Todd…Parker!”), never lets its camera sit idle (thanks to the ever-impressive, Robert Elswit), and so on.

It’s a breathtaking film; one that never gets old.  In fact, its impact continues to grow and grow and grow and grow and grow and grow.  A

Favorite scene: If I was an actor reading this script, I’d be terrified of the confrontation between young Eddie and his mother.  On paper, the dialogue sounds dime-store corny (“You’re stupid!” “I’m not stupid! Please don’t be mean to me!”, etc.)  But thanks to Wahlberg and Joanna Gleason, the scene plays out like a horrific portrait of adolescent hell. But the kicker, it must be said, is the dolly shot of Lawrence Hudd, who plays Wahlberg’s reserved father.  The camera quickly cuts to the parent’s bedroom and tracks left, revealing Hudd sitting motionless on the edge of his bed, listening to his wife berate his son in the next room.

Hudd says nothing, but his face says everything.  It’s an incredibly chilling moment that, given the content of the rest of the film, should feel out of place.  Thanks to those involved, it remains absolutely vital.

Magnolia (1999)

Coming off the critical acclaim of Boogie Nights, Anderson sought to push the envelope further with his next feature.  In Magnolia, the envelope isn’t so much pushed as ripped wide open, the result of which should in no way work as a cohesive, three hour film.  But it does, magically, and then some.

Taking place over the course of a single day in Los Angeles, Magnolia deserves to be ranked among the very best ensemble films ever made.  Any one of its many stories could sustain a feature film, but the gift of Magnolia is that Anderson includes only what is absolutely necessary to further, and enhance, the character’s motivations.

From its exhilarating, urban legend-inspired prologue, to its Book of Exodus denouement, Magnolia is a genuine masterpiece. I can think of no contemporary film that better encapsulates the themes of love, loss, regret, cruelty and forgiveness. If this film is unseen by you, I cannot think of one reason why it should stay that way.  A+ 

Favorite scene: Movie moments don’t get much better than the simultaneous breakdowns of Jimmy Gator (Philip Baker Hall), Linda Partridge (Julianne Moore), Quiz Kid Donnie Smith (William H. Macy), and Frank Mackey (Tom Cruise).  But to be fair, that takes up, what… 20 minutes?

So instead, I’ll choose something more succinct.  I’m obsessed with great character introductions in films.  Johnny Boy in Mean Streets, Harry Lime in The Third Man, The Joker in The Dark Knight, and the like.  So what better way to introduce Magnolia’s best character than to the operatic sound of Richard Strauss’s Also sprach Zarathustra?

With the light cues synching perfectly with Strauss, a silhouette soon appears to uproarious, male-driven fanfare. Soon, a voice speaks: “Respect…the cock.”  The crowd loses it.  We can’t help but smile.

People love to rag on Tom Cruise.  And I get it.  Yeah, the dude is kind of a douche and he stars in some shit films.  But those haters surely haven’t seen Magnolia.  For if they have, they would know that Cruise’s incarnation of Frank T.J. Mackey grants him a lifetime career pass.

Punch-Drunk Love (2002)

Motivated by the need for a complete 180 from Magnolia’s style, and the fact that he loves Adam Sandler comedies, Anderson crafted a simple story about a simple guy with simple dreams.  

Barry Egan just wants to be liked.  He wants respect from his seven overbearing sisters, a successful business, and, just maybe, the love of a woman. 

After a turn of purely Andersonian events, Barry finds himself wanted by an Utahan thug, falling for the girl of his dreams, and scheming to legally rip off a food company.  

Punch-Drunk Love is odd.  Quite odd, actually.  Jon Brion’s music is a never ending romp of delight and mania.  Elswit’s overexposed camera displays European-cool tones yet is strangely raw.  Anderson’s script is random yet harmonious.  And Sandler’s performance is puzzlingly brilliant.  The lasting result, like most of Anderson’s work, boasts a love it or hate it mentality. 

There are sequences of Punch-Drunk Love that rank among the best of Anderson’s career.  It’s a meditative, breezy character study that has all the right things going for it, as long as you’re willing to meet it halfway.  A-

Favorite scene: One of the best dialogue exchanges from the last decade goes a little something like this:

“I said ‘Calm down and shut the fuck up’ what’s the problem?”

“The problem is, if you give me a chance to explain, one of your employees, that girl I was just speaking with, has been threatening me, and four blonde gentlemen just… attacked me, and smashed my car, and hurt my girl—"

“All right, go fuck yourself, that shit has nothin’ to do with me, all right?  I run a legitimate business here."

“Listen to me… WHAT’S YOUR NAME, SIR? ANSWER ME!”

“What’s your name, asshole?!”

“I’m Barry Egan!”

“How do I know? You could be anybody.”

“You’re a bad person, you have no right taking people’s confidence in your service. You understand me, sir?  You’re sick—"

“No no no.  SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT UP WILL YOU—SHUT UP SHUT UP. SHUT SHUT SHUT SHUT SHUT UP…..SHUT UP!......NOW…..ARE YOU THREATENING, DICK?!"

“You go FUCK YOURSELF!”

(groans audibly) “FUCK! Did you just say go fuck myself?”

“…yes, I did.”

“THAT WASN’T GOOD, YOU’RE DEAD!”

There Will Be Blood (2007)

There Will Be Blood ruined contemporary American cinema.  Its pace is deliberately tedious, yet utterly seamless.  Its acting is flawless, from the lead actors to the extras in the background.  Its music, by Radiohead’s Johnny Greenwood (with some help from Brahms), is forebodingly game-changing.  Elswit’s cinematography redefines how to light a scene and maneuver a camera... in short, There Will Be Blood is cinematic perfection, something that hasn’t been achieved in this country since its release.

Daniel Plainview, as incarnated mercilessly by Daniel Day-Lewis, is a man of few passions and desires.  He wants only one thing: to become filthy rich.  Human feelings, acts of murder, broken legs, religious fanaticism, deaf children; these things need not deter him. And for two and half hours, we, the viewer, are fortunate enough to watch Plainview do everything in his power to achieve his dream.

  

If you were to break up every scene individually, and examine them as a collection of short films, you’d have more than dozen masterful sequences at your disposal.  The fun (and beauty, and conviction) of There Will Be Blood is that, by placing all those scenes together, you’re left with a feature film of impenetrable importance.  

No amount I write here will adequately describe how accomplished this film is.  In my original review, I feared that many audience members would either completely ignore the film, or let it be lost on them.  Given its modest box office draw ($40.2 million) and not-at-all justified number of Oscar wins (two; Day-Lewis and Elswit), my fears were relatively accurate.  But I also made a bold prediction in my initial write-up.  I said that decades from now, people would look back and consider There Will Be Blood an incontestable masterpiece.

Initially ignored then regarded as a classic, echoing the impact of Orson Welles’ first feature.  That’s a prediction I stand by today. A+

Favorite scene: Bowling alley.  Eating steak off the floor like a dog.  Drainage.  Milkshakes.  False prophets.  Third revelations.  Blowing pin.  Heavy breathing.  “...Mr. Daniel?”

“…I’m finished.”

Not hardly, Mr. Plainview.  Not hardly.    

 

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Bridesmaids

Bridesmaids, one of the best, most hilarious comedies in years, tells the story of a down-on-her-luck, middle aged beauty who, despite recently being named maid of honor to her best friend’s wedding, can’t get over the fact that she doesn’t have what others do. And, if your philosophy concerning romantic comedies at all aligns with mine, then I know what you’re thinking: We’ve seen it all before. But believe you me, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.

As mentioned, Annie (Kristen Wiig) is seriously down and out, which can mostly be attributed to her lazy self pity. Since her bakery business went under, she works a dead-end job behind a jewelry counter. Since she doesn’t want to put the time in to find a proper man, she answers late-night calls to her douche bag man toy (Jon Hamm). And on and on. But once her best friend (Maya Rudolph) announces her engagement, Annie puts her problems aside to deliver the perfect pre-wedding festivities with a newly-assembled collection on bridesmaids.

There is no better compliment to pay a comedy than that of lost time. To explain: when you see a comedy in the theatre – a good comedy, that is – you may be fortunate enough to come across a scene that is so hysterical, that the audience’s laughter completely drowns out the film’s dialogue. To say that I lost time in Bridesmaids is a gross understatement. For example, I couldn’t for the life of me tell you what was said during the scene in which the gals attempt to pick a bridesmaid dress for the wedding. Five minutes, completely lost through gasps of breath and streaming tears of laughter.

Taking full, but not overly crude, liberties with its R rating, Wiig and writing partner Annie Mumolo have drafted a script that makes for the best comedy in recent memory, not to mention the best Judd Apatow-produced feature since, well… possibly ever. But there’s something else here, too.

Bridesmaids manages to do something that nearly all other romantic comedies ignore: make its characters human. Usually, the new love interest of the main character would be played by someone like, say, Jon Hamm. A perfect-looking man tailored specifically to sweep our hurting dame off her feet. But really, how often does a lady nab the “perfect” guy? Instead, Bridesmaids casts actors that actually look like, and share faults with, normal people. The groom is slightly overweight, the roommates are oddly shaped, the men have receding hairlines, the women have imperfect skin; it all accumulates to a glorious breath of fresh air. Finally, a comedy that actually casts people who look, and act, like people we know.

Wiig has stolen scenes in a number of films including Knocked Up, Adventureland, and Extract, and basically owned Saturday Night Life since she debuted in 2005. And although she’s mostly been on the sidelines of feature films, her acting and writing in Bridesmaids should finally catapult her to the A list status she so deserves. She’s the funniest woman in the business (sorry, Ms. Fey), and it’s time to seriously let her freak flag fly.

Now, while I love Kristen Wiig (and believe me, I love Kristen Wiig), the real showstopper in Bridesmaids is Melissa McCarthy, who plays the groom’s overweight, tell-it-like-it-is sister.

It is no exaggeration to say that every line out of McCarthy’s mouth is better than the one before. In a cast of very talented individuals, McCarthy (whom I’ve only seen in seldom minor roles, but I’m told is great on CBS’ Mike & Molly) manages to steal every single one of her scenes, to the point that it should warrant her an Academy Award nomination.

Take, for example, a scene late in the film, in which Wiig and McCarthy sit on a couch and contemplate all of life’s troubles. At the start of the scene, McCarthy spins into a hilarious bit of physical comedy, before delivering a slew of perfectly-timed lines. But then something strange happens. Subtly, McCarthy smoothly slips into a monologue that is so tender and earnestly heartfelt, it’s enough to make the toughest viewer misty eyed. The scene immediately shifts from being insanely funny to genuinely emotional. I’ve never experienced that during a movie before. A

The Conspirator

The Conspirator, Robert Redford’s new, never dull film, tells the story of the confusing, revenge-seeking aftermath following the assassination of President Lincoln.  Or, more specifically, the trail of Mary Surratt (Robin Wright), who ran a boarding house once occupied by tenants later involved in the plot to kill the President.  And because Mary’s son, John, who was said to be John Wilkes Booth’s right hand man, is nowhere to be found, officials want justice in the form of a hanging Mary.  The innocence of Mary doesn’t initially concern her young attorney (James McAvoy).  He’s more focused on making sure Mary receives a fair trial, when the powers that be demand anything but.

Don’t worry, the verbose, historical plot is executed in a way that hardly appears verbose and overbearingly historical.  Basically, the film isn’t muddled with obscure historical references and the characters don’t spit out more old English dialogue than is absolutely necessary.  It’s an easy film to take, and one, I suspect, people who aren’t great fans of historical dramas (guilty) will enjoy.

Much can be credited to this, including Mr. Redford, whose swift pace, warm photography, and careful casting allows The Conspirator to rank among his best films as a director.

At the heart of The Conspirator is a breezy, well-informed screenplay by James D. Solomon.  Solomon’s script is the rarest of things, moving along unsuspectingly without lending itself to cheap tricks and dime store twists.  As Mary Surratt’s court proceedings progress, the political corruption of not letting her stand a fair trial becomes absurd.  And soon, without us even realizing, we aren’t concerned with whether Mary is guilty or not, but rather, if the verdict she faces will be true justice.

Gus Van Sant often speaks of the importance of casting every role, no matter how small.  Whether they are Will Hunting or the dude at the back of the bar with one line, every casting decision needs to be deliberate and precise. 

I bring this up because that is exactly what Redford has done here.  Every speaking part in The Conspirator is done with such conviction by the perfect actor, that it is impossible to point out a weak link.  The call sheet of bit players reads like a dream list of character actors.  Shea Whigham, David Andrews, Stephen Root, and Jim True-Frost are all effective in their brief roles.  Supporting roles are cast invaluably to Colm Meaney, Danny Huston, Tom Wilkinson, Kevin Kline and Evan Rachel Wood.  While James McAvoy and Robin Wright perfectly fall into the lead characters.

Wright deserves specific praise.  In what quickly turns into the first truly great acting performance of the year, Robin Wright does wonders with Mary Surratt.  She keeps her moving, both physically and emotionally.  Her subtle facial and neck ticks seamlessly display her hidden guilt.  But guilt from what?  Did she know her son was plotting the assassination of the President?  Did she know he was plotting his kidnapping?  Did she know anything?  Those questions, I suspect, were the basis for Wright’s exercise in breaking down her character.  Whatever method Wright lent to her role, it worked, flawlessly. 

The Conspirator is a damn fine film, the best I’ve seen so far this year.  My only fear is that, given it’s less than modest box office gross, The Conspirator will soon fade from the minds of voting members of the Academy, just as quickly as it is fading from our theatres.  A-

Thor

I often say that a film - usually a blockbuster film - is “exactly what you think it’s going to be,” or “good for what it is.”  And let’s be honest, those are just polite euphemisms for what those films really are, which is throwaway popcorn garbage.  And Thor, the latest addition to what will eventually lead to every fanboy’s wetdream à la The Avengers, is a perfect case in point.

Well, for the most part.  Fair is fair so let’s be fair.

Thor is directed by Kenneth Branagh, a real pro best know directorially for his adaptations of Henry V and Hamlet (his Frankenstein with De Niro was pretty badass, too).  Branagh has said in interviews that he’s been a longtime fan of Thor, the comic, and jumped at the chance to helm Thor, the flick.  Fair enough.

I mention this because Thor, at least in its Earth-set scenes, makes every effort to be humorous, which Branagh never has a problem accomplishing, given his often-dense source material.  Sometimes the Thor gimmicks work (mostly from the mouth of the great Clark Gregg, reprising his S.H.I.E.L.D. commander role from the Iron Man films) and other times the humor falls flat.

Now, what else can I positively say without stretching?  Aussie Chris Hemsworth appears to be having a blast as Thor, which is fun for the audience.  But the rest of the cast, including talents such as Natalie Portman, Stellan Skarsgård, Idris Elba and Anthony Hopkins, are all phoning their roles in. 

And that’s a problem, because for a movie that relies so heavily on its uniquely incomprehensible vernacular, acting kind of, you know, matters.

If you’re unfamiliar with the comics, as I am, Thor is set in two worlds.  On his home planet (or “realm,” as he calls it) Thor is a mighty warrior and soon-to-be king.  But after getting greedy with bloodlust, his angry poppa (Hopkins) banishes Thor to Earth, stripping him of his powers. On Earth, Thor runs into a few scientists (Portman and Skarsgård) who are studying electromagnetic something or others, and explains to them how he desperately needs to get back home.  You see, Thor’s younger brother is being all sneaky and trying to gain the throne and… oh, seriously, who gives a shit?

In short, Thor does well when it’s on Earth, but its home realm scenes (which occupy nearly half the film) are so stale and boring, I wondered to myself if a person can actually become dumber from watching a movie.

Thor is the latest lead-in to Joss Whedon’s The Avengers due exactly a year from now.  Given the cast, which so far includes Robert Downey Jr. (Iron Man), Jeremy Renner (Hawkeye), Scarlett Johansson (Black Widow), Mark Ruffalo (The Hulk), and Samuel L. Jackson (Nick Fury), I’m actually excited to see it.  But am I the only one who wants to skip the Thor and Captain America foreplay and just jump right into the main showdown?  D

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+