With three R-rated comedy mega hits under his belt, it would appear that Judd Apatow could do no wrong. With co-writer and director Jake Kasdan, Apatow takes a stab at the spoof, which has become the lowest form of cinematic “comedy” these days (see DATE MOVIE, EPIC MOVIE and the upcoming MEET THE SPARTANS). Deriding the recent wave of musical biopics, WALK HARD: THE DEWEY COX story is only moderately successful. It’s side-splittingly funny in parts, but 96 minutes spent spoofing two or three movies leaves the viewer with a rather empty feeling.
Taking mostly from WALK THE LINE, the film tells the epic life of music superstar Dewey Cox (John C. Reilly), a Johnny Cash-like guitar man who rises to fame in the early 60s, falls in the 70s when he interacts with drinking and drugs, and finds redemption just in time to receive a lifetime achievement award. After losing his prodigal brother in a machete accident, young Dewey channels his inner guilt and rage at his father’s alienation into a new kind of music that angers elders and drives youngsters to grinding dances. He quickly rises to fame, despite being stuck with a skeptical and usually pregnant wife (Kristen Wiig). He goes through the roller coasters that seem to strike every musician; his band members introduce him to drugs and later desert him. He meets his true love (Jenna Fischer) while still married, though he doesn’t quite realize how that system works.
Most of the jokes are based on 2005’s WALK THE LINE, and the main storyline is a near copy; there are a few dashes of RAY thrown in (Dewey suffers a lost sense of smell). The problem is that with a spoof, making fun of only one film quickly grows tiresome. What made early spoofs like AIRPLANE successes were the amount of films referenced in them, no matter whether they had anything to do with the plot or not. There are a few related bits that remain funny throughout; machete motifs and the constant references to characters’ ages are a few. But the more successful bits are actually the raunchy R-rated jokes that hold no bearing on the plot. The film’s many songs are likely its greatest attribute. Performed wonderfully by Reilly, they display the writers at their most creative and cleverest. From the innuendo-filled “Let’s Duet” to the catchy title song to the genuinely affecting “A Life Without You”, the songs quickly become the most memorable thing about the film.
Unfortunately, star Reilly doesn’t bring much to the table. Playing basically the same character he did in last year’s TALLADEGA NIGHTS, his comic abilities seem to have lessened in the transition from supporting role to leading. He sings admirably, but the “aw, shucks” dumb guy shtick grows as tired as the jokes. His other bits seem taken directly from his past co-stars, the most notable being his Incredible Hulk-fused version of the running around in underwear made, Will Ferrell style. Wiig and Tim Meadows come off with the best gags in the film; Wiig manages to make her one-joke character humorous throughout while Meadows’s spirited protestations against the effects of pot and cocaine are probably the funniest thing in the film. In the end, however, WALK HARD isn’t as funny as its spoof predecessors, though it is mercifully a step above recent offerings. The musical biopic genre is ripe for parody, but every spoof requires a wider eye to keep from growing stale or repetitive.
**/****
Friday, December 28, 2007
Sunday, December 23, 2007
The Kite Runner
Khaled Hosseini’s wildly popular 2003 novel THE KITE RUNNER arrives on screens this holiday season in the form of a treacly, cliché-ridden that raises the big issues people think Oscar voters love. Though there are aspects to admire, it is clear the filmmakers believed that simply retelling the story would have been good enough to hit a homerun, but it leaves its viewers cold and unaffected at the end.
The film tells the story of Amir (Zekeiria Ebrahimi as a child, Khalid Abdalla as an adult), an Afghan immigrant novelist living in California. He receives a phone call from an old friend in Pakistan, asking him to return to his homeland so he can “do good again”. Amir reflects on his early life in Kabul, where he and his best friend Hassan (Ahmad Kahn Mahmidzada) flew kites everyday, practicing for a city-wide kite tournament. When a violent attack on Hassan splits the boys apart, the entire world seems to unravel. The Soviets soon invade and Amir and his father are forced to flee, eventually winding up in America. Amir grows to into young adulthood, missing his friend all the while. He returns to Pakistan, where he finds a chance to repay his dear friend; he must rescue Hassan’s son Sohrab from the Taliban rule in Afghanistan.
The film’s most crippling flaw is its by-the-numbers and passionless screenplay, courtesy of David Benioff (who’s other work includes gems like TROY and STAY). It adapts the book with a mind to being as straightforward as possible; little to no time is taken to develop characters in a purely cinematic form. The depth of Amir and Hassan’s friendship must be assumed, because there is no explicit demonstration of it in the actual film. A revelation late in the film explains a bit more about the characters, but Amir’s drive to save Sohrab rests almost exclusively on what is said in clichéd preachy dialogue, not what is shown. It is understood why Amir returns to Pakistan to help Hassan, but because of the weak writing, it feels more like an obligation than a chance to ease a terribly guilty conscience. Another irritating trait in the script is its use of language. The sequences of Amir’s youth are told in dialects spoken in Kabul (a brave choice for a big studio-funded film). But makes makes it irritating when the characters switch back and forth between English and Middle Eastern dialects in Amir’s adulthood. Characters start conversation in their native languages, then switch to English when important points must be made.
Director Marc Forster retains the interesting visual eye he displayed in FINDING NEVERLAND and STRANGER THAN FICTION, but it sometimes causes the film to feel like a family-friendly look at life in the Middle East. There is danger there, but the true horrors seem skirted around. In some instances, the restraint shown works quite well (and is quite necessary), but most everything else remains curiously bright and cheery. It reflects the mindset of the young boys early in the film, and it works there; this is mainly because of the spirited and heartwarming performances from Ebrahimi and Mahmidzada. Some of the technical work is spotty as well; though the kite tournament is vibrantly rendered via CGI, the all-computerized shots of the kites flying and the live action shots of the children on the ground never really connect, and the film looses the sense of excitement it should have. Alberto Iglesias’s score is an oddity; starting off melodic and evocative but quickly turning overbearing and terribly orchestrated.
The filmmakers likely assumed that the popularity of the book would guarantee them a success, and that was their first mistake. It has happened many times with high-profile literary adaptations; not enough care is put into making it an actual film. The chief problem here is the screenplay, which does not adequately describe the characters and their emotions. Oh sure, they say how they feel, but a viewer can handle only so many heavy-handed speeches with statements about life we’ve heard before. There is some joy and truth to be found in THE KITE RUNNER, but it is not nearly as effective as its source.
**1/2/****
The film tells the story of Amir (Zekeiria Ebrahimi as a child, Khalid Abdalla as an adult), an Afghan immigrant novelist living in California. He receives a phone call from an old friend in Pakistan, asking him to return to his homeland so he can “do good again”. Amir reflects on his early life in Kabul, where he and his best friend Hassan (Ahmad Kahn Mahmidzada) flew kites everyday, practicing for a city-wide kite tournament. When a violent attack on Hassan splits the boys apart, the entire world seems to unravel. The Soviets soon invade and Amir and his father are forced to flee, eventually winding up in America. Amir grows to into young adulthood, missing his friend all the while. He returns to Pakistan, where he finds a chance to repay his dear friend; he must rescue Hassan’s son Sohrab from the Taliban rule in Afghanistan.
The film’s most crippling flaw is its by-the-numbers and passionless screenplay, courtesy of David Benioff (who’s other work includes gems like TROY and STAY). It adapts the book with a mind to being as straightforward as possible; little to no time is taken to develop characters in a purely cinematic form. The depth of Amir and Hassan’s friendship must be assumed, because there is no explicit demonstration of it in the actual film. A revelation late in the film explains a bit more about the characters, but Amir’s drive to save Sohrab rests almost exclusively on what is said in clichéd preachy dialogue, not what is shown. It is understood why Amir returns to Pakistan to help Hassan, but because of the weak writing, it feels more like an obligation than a chance to ease a terribly guilty conscience. Another irritating trait in the script is its use of language. The sequences of Amir’s youth are told in dialects spoken in Kabul (a brave choice for a big studio-funded film). But makes makes it irritating when the characters switch back and forth between English and Middle Eastern dialects in Amir’s adulthood. Characters start conversation in their native languages, then switch to English when important points must be made.
Director Marc Forster retains the interesting visual eye he displayed in FINDING NEVERLAND and STRANGER THAN FICTION, but it sometimes causes the film to feel like a family-friendly look at life in the Middle East. There is danger there, but the true horrors seem skirted around. In some instances, the restraint shown works quite well (and is quite necessary), but most everything else remains curiously bright and cheery. It reflects the mindset of the young boys early in the film, and it works there; this is mainly because of the spirited and heartwarming performances from Ebrahimi and Mahmidzada. Some of the technical work is spotty as well; though the kite tournament is vibrantly rendered via CGI, the all-computerized shots of the kites flying and the live action shots of the children on the ground never really connect, and the film looses the sense of excitement it should have. Alberto Iglesias’s score is an oddity; starting off melodic and evocative but quickly turning overbearing and terribly orchestrated.
The filmmakers likely assumed that the popularity of the book would guarantee them a success, and that was their first mistake. It has happened many times with high-profile literary adaptations; not enough care is put into making it an actual film. The chief problem here is the screenplay, which does not adequately describe the characters and their emotions. Oh sure, they say how they feel, but a viewer can handle only so many heavy-handed speeches with statements about life we’ve heard before. There is some joy and truth to be found in THE KITE RUNNER, but it is not nearly as effective as its source.
**1/2/****
Saturday, December 15, 2007
I Am Legend
It’s a story that’s been told many times before, yet always seems to get the shaft in its purest form. Richard Matheson’s famed novel I AM LEGEND gets its third big-screen treatment (following 1964’s THE LAST MAN ON EARTH and 1971’s THE OMEGA MAN). This time around, the original work has been fused with a 28 DAYS LATER-type bent, removing the vampiric creatures of the original and replacing them with frenzied, zombie-like beings. But although the film does take many brave turns and unusual choices, it ends up as nothing more than a really expensive slim horror movie.
Robert Neville (Will Smith) is the last surviving man in New York. Three years after an outbreak of a virus aimed to cure diseases, most of human civilization has been wiped out. Only a small portion survive, and most of those have been mutated into animalistic creatures who ruthlessly feed on all forms of life and are allergic to sunlight. (Basically, as explained in a brief prologue and a few flashbacks, Emma Thompson kills us all). Now Neville is alone in New York, which has become overgrown with wildlife. He leads an empty existence; interacting only with his dog while desperately trying to find a cure for the virus. His desperation begins to increase as time goes on, and Neville notices that the creatures are becoming more violent and less hesitant to shield themselves from the sun. After capturing a creature for study, he angers the apparent New Yorkian king of the creatures and they begin to attack.
Much of the film is Smith by himself, silent except for the occasional remark to the dog. The portions of him roaming through the deserted New York are stunningly rendered; the overgrown grass in Times Square, the slow decay of the empty skyscrapers, every bit of the city is shocking and downright eerie. The filmmakers haven’t skipped a step in this regard; even the billboards are rendered time-appropriate (including an ad for a huge superhero pic due in May 2010, so get ready folks). How disappointing it is to learn, then, that director Francis Lawrence (2005’s CONSTANTINE) did not show this amount of care throughout the whole film. The most crippling flaw in the entire thing is the creatures themselves. Obviously rendered completely through CGI, they never become truly terrifying because they never look real. It suffers when compared to recent films like 28 DAYS LATER, which clearly inspired the look of this film. Sure, when they jump out from around a corner screaming the audience is startled, but there are many more effective ways of scaring people.
That’s not to say there isn’t anything else to admire. Smith gives one of his better performances to date, and certainly the most focused. Gone is the grin-filled easygoing humor he displays in all his other films, a trait with often undercuts certain dramatic aspirations. The biggest laughs here are nothing more than amused chuckles and Smith really triumphs in the dramatic scenes. The slow-building paranoia, desperation and loneliness that seeps into his behavior is uncomfortable and sometimes painful to watch, in a good way. It seems odd to happen in a film like I AM LEGEND, but here Smith finally proves that he has what it takes to become a great dramatic actor.
In the end, the film is a mixed experience. There are admirable qualities, but the failings become glaringly obvious as the film comes to a close. The finale in particular will be maddening to some, straying far from Matheson’s novel. But it is to be expected in a big-budget Hollywood film in this day and age and the filmmakers likely placed commercial success over artistic bravery. I AM LEGEND is worth seeing for its stunning opening scenes and for Smith’s complex performance, but those seeking that level of complexity on all counts will be disappointed.
**/****
Robert Neville (Will Smith) is the last surviving man in New York. Three years after an outbreak of a virus aimed to cure diseases, most of human civilization has been wiped out. Only a small portion survive, and most of those have been mutated into animalistic creatures who ruthlessly feed on all forms of life and are allergic to sunlight. (Basically, as explained in a brief prologue and a few flashbacks, Emma Thompson kills us all). Now Neville is alone in New York, which has become overgrown with wildlife. He leads an empty existence; interacting only with his dog while desperately trying to find a cure for the virus. His desperation begins to increase as time goes on, and Neville notices that the creatures are becoming more violent and less hesitant to shield themselves from the sun. After capturing a creature for study, he angers the apparent New Yorkian king of the creatures and they begin to attack.
Much of the film is Smith by himself, silent except for the occasional remark to the dog. The portions of him roaming through the deserted New York are stunningly rendered; the overgrown grass in Times Square, the slow decay of the empty skyscrapers, every bit of the city is shocking and downright eerie. The filmmakers haven’t skipped a step in this regard; even the billboards are rendered time-appropriate (including an ad for a huge superhero pic due in May 2010, so get ready folks). How disappointing it is to learn, then, that director Francis Lawrence (2005’s CONSTANTINE) did not show this amount of care throughout the whole film. The most crippling flaw in the entire thing is the creatures themselves. Obviously rendered completely through CGI, they never become truly terrifying because they never look real. It suffers when compared to recent films like 28 DAYS LATER, which clearly inspired the look of this film. Sure, when they jump out from around a corner screaming the audience is startled, but there are many more effective ways of scaring people.
That’s not to say there isn’t anything else to admire. Smith gives one of his better performances to date, and certainly the most focused. Gone is the grin-filled easygoing humor he displays in all his other films, a trait with often undercuts certain dramatic aspirations. The biggest laughs here are nothing more than amused chuckles and Smith really triumphs in the dramatic scenes. The slow-building paranoia, desperation and loneliness that seeps into his behavior is uncomfortable and sometimes painful to watch, in a good way. It seems odd to happen in a film like I AM LEGEND, but here Smith finally proves that he has what it takes to become a great dramatic actor.
In the end, the film is a mixed experience. There are admirable qualities, but the failings become glaringly obvious as the film comes to a close. The finale in particular will be maddening to some, straying far from Matheson’s novel. But it is to be expected in a big-budget Hollywood film in this day and age and the filmmakers likely placed commercial success over artistic bravery. I AM LEGEND is worth seeing for its stunning opening scenes and for Smith’s complex performance, but those seeking that level of complexity on all counts will be disappointed.
**/****
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Juno
Diablo Cody makes an admirably heartfelt and genuinely funny screenwriting debut with JUNO, a tween pregnancy comedy that masterfully walks the line between self-parody and real emotion. Directed by THANK YOU FOR SMOKING’s Jason Reitman and featuring some of the most compelling (and most surprising) performances of the year, the film manages to be cute without cloying and dramatic without plodding.
It all starts with a chair. When a sarcastic and laid-back 16-year-old (Juno, played by Ellen Page) discovers she’s pregnant, her first thought is to get an abortion. Yet when she finds herself unable to through with the operation because, among other things, the clinic smells like a dentist’s office, she decides to do the decent thing: give the baby up for adoption. Enter Mark and Vanessa Loring (Jason Bateman and Jennifer Garner), the upper-middle-class yuppie couple who want to adopt but have had bad past experiences. And as Juno’s pregnancy develops, she finds herself thinking more and more about the baby’s father, a dorky track runner (Michael Cera) with an unusual fondness for Tic Tacs.
The film’s strength lies in its performances, and most importantly Page’s portrayal of the titular character. Juno is sarcastic but not unlikable; she fully accepts her faults and mistakes, and the viewer cannot help but do the same. She is a modern teen in every way; ready to dismiss the words of her elders with a disinterested roll of the eyes. Yet she has a maturity that develops along with the baby. As Juno gains a more worldly wise view of those around her, she becomes all the more compelling. Page has put in noteworthy work in lesser films (HARD CANDY, X-MEN 3), but it is JUNO that people will remember her for. But Page does not put in the only memorable performance; solid work is done by all, and there isn’t a weak link in the cast.
Jason Bateman and Jennifer Garner especially come as a surprise. As the adoptive parents-to-be, both delve into previously untapped area in their ranges. While Bateman still relies on his charming, staring-in-disbelief comedic timing, his more dramatic scenes display an uncertainty and reluctance that resonates far past the words he speaks. Garner is a revelation here. The dramatic work she’s done on ALIAS only hints at the multilayered performance she gives her. Her desperation that shows even through her strict reticence is often heartbreaking; the flaws in her character are apparent, yet her strive for the end goal makes all her fussing filled with fright instead of superficiality.
Cody’s smart and snappy script successfully balances comedy and drama. At first insistent on teen slang (almost annoyingly so), the true measure of Cody’s accomplishment becomes apparent later in the film, when the drama rings truer than most comedies of its type. Yet it never becomes bogged down in the dramatics; by the time it turns away from total comedy, the viewer is already too invested in the characters to be lost. But Cody and Reitman realize how important comedy is in such serious situations. Like Juno herself, they never let things get too serious. There’s always something to laugh at just around the corner.
***1/2/****
It all starts with a chair. When a sarcastic and laid-back 16-year-old (Juno, played by Ellen Page) discovers she’s pregnant, her first thought is to get an abortion. Yet when she finds herself unable to through with the operation because, among other things, the clinic smells like a dentist’s office, she decides to do the decent thing: give the baby up for adoption. Enter Mark and Vanessa Loring (Jason Bateman and Jennifer Garner), the upper-middle-class yuppie couple who want to adopt but have had bad past experiences. And as Juno’s pregnancy develops, she finds herself thinking more and more about the baby’s father, a dorky track runner (Michael Cera) with an unusual fondness for Tic Tacs.
The film’s strength lies in its performances, and most importantly Page’s portrayal of the titular character. Juno is sarcastic but not unlikable; she fully accepts her faults and mistakes, and the viewer cannot help but do the same. She is a modern teen in every way; ready to dismiss the words of her elders with a disinterested roll of the eyes. Yet she has a maturity that develops along with the baby. As Juno gains a more worldly wise view of those around her, she becomes all the more compelling. Page has put in noteworthy work in lesser films (HARD CANDY, X-MEN 3), but it is JUNO that people will remember her for. But Page does not put in the only memorable performance; solid work is done by all, and there isn’t a weak link in the cast.
Jason Bateman and Jennifer Garner especially come as a surprise. As the adoptive parents-to-be, both delve into previously untapped area in their ranges. While Bateman still relies on his charming, staring-in-disbelief comedic timing, his more dramatic scenes display an uncertainty and reluctance that resonates far past the words he speaks. Garner is a revelation here. The dramatic work she’s done on ALIAS only hints at the multilayered performance she gives her. Her desperation that shows even through her strict reticence is often heartbreaking; the flaws in her character are apparent, yet her strive for the end goal makes all her fussing filled with fright instead of superficiality.
Cody’s smart and snappy script successfully balances comedy and drama. At first insistent on teen slang (almost annoyingly so), the true measure of Cody’s accomplishment becomes apparent later in the film, when the drama rings truer than most comedies of its type. Yet it never becomes bogged down in the dramatics; by the time it turns away from total comedy, the viewer is already too invested in the characters to be lost. But Cody and Reitman realize how important comedy is in such serious situations. Like Juno herself, they never let things get too serious. There’s always something to laugh at just around the corner.
***1/2/****
Monday, December 10, 2007
Atonement
Ian McEwan’s bestselling novel ATONEMENT was a work so completely absorbed in language and writing that a successful cinematic adaptation seemed unlikely. Yet in the hands of director Joe Wright (of 2005’s delightful PRIDE AND PREJUDICE) and Oscar-winning screenwriter Christopher Hampton, the film arrives with its messages largely in tact, if slightly less subtle than before. Still, the film is quite an achievement; sumptuously and carefully designed and admirably performed by its actors.
The decade-spanning story begins on a hot 1935 summer day in the middle of the English countryside. Young Briony Tallis (Saoirse Ronan) is a would-be writer who’s just completed a play to celebrate the return of her older brother. As she tries to wrangle her younger cousins into rehearsals, she spots her sister Cecilia (Keira Knightley) apparently arguing with the housekeeper’s son Robbie (James McAvoy). Later, Robbie asks Briony to deliver a graphic confession to Cecilia. Matters only get worse when Briony spots the two making love in the library. When Briony spots her cousin being assaulted by a man, she tells police Robbie is the culprit, and he is taken away. Four years later, the world is embroiled in World War II and Robbie is drafted into service. As he wanders aimlessly through hundreds of deserted troops trying to fulfill his promise to return to Cecilia, 18-year-old Briony (Romola Garai) is now a nurse and just beginning to realize the effect she’s had. Did she actually see what she said she saw, or did her childish mind misunderstand how her words would affect the son of a servant?
Thanks to Wright’s careful direction, part of ATONEMENT’s fascination is the intricate design. This is most apparent in Dario Marianelli’s luscious score that bridges the gap between diegetic and non-diegetic sound in a way never seen before; the music perfectly layers in the sounds of a typewriter, soldiers singing and playing harmonicas. A great deal of the film’s effectiveness comes from the wrenching music. The cinematography is equally impressive; the sun-drenched images of the beginning create a mood of intense heat without losing beauty. Wright favors long, often stunning tracking shots, culminating in a nearly six minute long take surveying the horror and tragedy of retreat. It is one of the most stunning films of the year aesthetically.
The entire film relies on what Briony saw; more and more of what really happened is revealed as the character ages. It culminates in a devastating revelation from Briony in her later years, where she is portrayed by Vanessa Redgrave in a mesmerizing performance that is sadly not much more than a glorified cameo. The finale of the film will determine how the viewer sees the entire product; not just the final scene, but all that came before it as well. It is a risky choice, but Wright and Hampton made the best decision in keeping it exactly as it is. They must have known the revelation would lose viewers, but that increases the film’s effectiveness. The characterization of Briony is the film’s other key to success, and maybe the most fascinating aspect of it. Each actress carries the character through in an astonishing level of connection; Ronan’s Briony lays the foundation, Garai’s Briony builds on that and finally Redgrave’s Briony brings it all to a tragic close. Everything, from hairstyle to dress to facial imperfections to vocal inflection is impressively identical. Though all three actresses are uniformly excellent, it is Garai who stands out the most. Portraying the Briony that comes of emotional age, both to her past and to the violence around her, Garai is endlessly fascinating. Hers is a quiet, subtle portrayal; one that stays with the viewer long after the film is over.
Unfortunately, the characters other than Briony do not make much of an impact. Most disappointing are Robbie and Cecilia, the doomed lovers highlighted in the film’s marketing. This is no fault of the actors; both McAvoy and Knightley give solid performances, and in McAvoy’s case, often compelling. Yet they are not the main characters of the story, and when the film focuses solely on Robbie for an extended amount, the pace begins to drag. And unlike her triumphant performance in PRIDE AND PREJUDICE, Knightley is not given much to do besides look beautiful and silently brooding (and smoking). Robbie and Cecilia make an adequately tragic couple, but their circumstances are less than compelling when Briony is nowhere to be found.
Wright and company have done more than an adequate job in adapting a tricky work onto the screen. Those unfamiliar with the work (and even some who are familiar with it) will either be blown away or left in the cold. ATONEMENT is a compelling study in what makes truth and what makes honesty. And as the film makes very clear, the two terms are not necessarily one in the same.
***1/2/****
The decade-spanning story begins on a hot 1935 summer day in the middle of the English countryside. Young Briony Tallis (Saoirse Ronan) is a would-be writer who’s just completed a play to celebrate the return of her older brother. As she tries to wrangle her younger cousins into rehearsals, she spots her sister Cecilia (Keira Knightley) apparently arguing with the housekeeper’s son Robbie (James McAvoy). Later, Robbie asks Briony to deliver a graphic confession to Cecilia. Matters only get worse when Briony spots the two making love in the library. When Briony spots her cousin being assaulted by a man, she tells police Robbie is the culprit, and he is taken away. Four years later, the world is embroiled in World War II and Robbie is drafted into service. As he wanders aimlessly through hundreds of deserted troops trying to fulfill his promise to return to Cecilia, 18-year-old Briony (Romola Garai) is now a nurse and just beginning to realize the effect she’s had. Did she actually see what she said she saw, or did her childish mind misunderstand how her words would affect the son of a servant?
Thanks to Wright’s careful direction, part of ATONEMENT’s fascination is the intricate design. This is most apparent in Dario Marianelli’s luscious score that bridges the gap between diegetic and non-diegetic sound in a way never seen before; the music perfectly layers in the sounds of a typewriter, soldiers singing and playing harmonicas. A great deal of the film’s effectiveness comes from the wrenching music. The cinematography is equally impressive; the sun-drenched images of the beginning create a mood of intense heat without losing beauty. Wright favors long, often stunning tracking shots, culminating in a nearly six minute long take surveying the horror and tragedy of retreat. It is one of the most stunning films of the year aesthetically.
The entire film relies on what Briony saw; more and more of what really happened is revealed as the character ages. It culminates in a devastating revelation from Briony in her later years, where she is portrayed by Vanessa Redgrave in a mesmerizing performance that is sadly not much more than a glorified cameo. The finale of the film will determine how the viewer sees the entire product; not just the final scene, but all that came before it as well. It is a risky choice, but Wright and Hampton made the best decision in keeping it exactly as it is. They must have known the revelation would lose viewers, but that increases the film’s effectiveness. The characterization of Briony is the film’s other key to success, and maybe the most fascinating aspect of it. Each actress carries the character through in an astonishing level of connection; Ronan’s Briony lays the foundation, Garai’s Briony builds on that and finally Redgrave’s Briony brings it all to a tragic close. Everything, from hairstyle to dress to facial imperfections to vocal inflection is impressively identical. Though all three actresses are uniformly excellent, it is Garai who stands out the most. Portraying the Briony that comes of emotional age, both to her past and to the violence around her, Garai is endlessly fascinating. Hers is a quiet, subtle portrayal; one that stays with the viewer long after the film is over.
Unfortunately, the characters other than Briony do not make much of an impact. Most disappointing are Robbie and Cecilia, the doomed lovers highlighted in the film’s marketing. This is no fault of the actors; both McAvoy and Knightley give solid performances, and in McAvoy’s case, often compelling. Yet they are not the main characters of the story, and when the film focuses solely on Robbie for an extended amount, the pace begins to drag. And unlike her triumphant performance in PRIDE AND PREJUDICE, Knightley is not given much to do besides look beautiful and silently brooding (and smoking). Robbie and Cecilia make an adequately tragic couple, but their circumstances are less than compelling when Briony is nowhere to be found.
Wright and company have done more than an adequate job in adapting a tricky work onto the screen. Those unfamiliar with the work (and even some who are familiar with it) will either be blown away or left in the cold. ATONEMENT is a compelling study in what makes truth and what makes honesty. And as the film makes very clear, the two terms are not necessarily one in the same.
***1/2/****
Saturday, December 8, 2007
The Golden Compass
Clearly wishing to find a successor to their LORD OF THE RINGS films, New Line Cinema has graced us with THE GOLDEN COMPASS, the first in the successful and controversial HIS DARK MATERIALS trilogy by Philip Pullman. Known to many for its oft-discussed views on religion, anyone walking into the film must be curious as to how the filmmakers would present such a work on screen in today’s society, which is so touchy about religion. The answer is as carefully as possible, setting as many of the big issues aside for the assumed sequels. The result is mixed, showcasing a few set pieces between a lot of rushed talk and breezed-through set up.
The film serves as an introduction to a world parallel to our own, where a person’s soul is represented by an animal being, daemons, that moves beside them. Lyra (newcomer Dakota Blue Richards) is an orphan student at Jordan College, placed there by her powerful uncle Lord Asriel (Daniel Craig). While spying on a meeting led by him, Lyra learns of the “dust”; particles that attach a human to their daemon and stretch into alternate worlds. Asriel seeks to travel to the North Pole in an attempt to bride universes, but the Magisterium (headed by a man with a dorky comb-over and clichéd wide-eyed suspicious glares) declaims such acts as heresy. Meanwhile, Lyra is drafted into the employ of Mrs. Coulter (a wonderfully icy Nicole Kidman), a woman whose motives may not be all they seem. Before departing the school Lyra is given an Alethiometer, a truth-telling compass outlawed by the Magisterium. Lyra soon hears her school friends are being kidnapped, and as her suspicion against Mrs. Coulter mounts, she decided to take manners into her own hands. Along the way she drafts a cowboy-like air pilot (Sam Elliot) and a gigantic polar bear into her envoy as well as interacting with the mysterious witches (led by Eva Green).
It sounds like a lot of plot, and indeed it is. THE GOLDEN COMPASS races from one important point to another, leaving no time in between for a breather. It acts as a 101 course to Pullman’s world; most of the scenes involve someone sitting Lyra down and explaining things. The viewer is talked at almost relentlessly; something that becomes rather irritating in a film that proclaimed to be an epic adventure. It doesn’t help that the action sequences are far too short; any set piece doesn’t last longer than five minutes, if that. It really is a shame, as they start off so promising. A fight between two (wonderfully rendered) polar bears is particularly exciting, though its knock-out ending cuts the action off abruptly. Particularly frustrating is the film’s finale, which tries to wrap things up too quickly to leave the viewer with a warm, fuzzy feeling.
As said, the source’s more controversial points have been severely eased. Anyone coming into the film without prior knowledge would find the film’s stance against the Magisterium to be a mild attack on the current government, and nothing more. The entire situation is very vague; sure, they’re villains, but no one really explains why, other than a few “well, they’ve kinda done this” statements. Writer/director Chris Weitz was clearly frightened about how he was going to present the material. But unfortunately, the most controversial material is yet to come, should the other books be adapted.
Still, there are aspects to admire. The film is dazzling to behold; the film reportedly cost around $200 million to produce, and it shows. Every aspect of the technical design is impeccably rendered, especially the film’s extensive visual effects. The viewer may not be fully attentive through the whole film, but everything sure does look pretty. Add to that several admirable performances, particularly from Richards and Kidman. As Lyra, Richards brings a smart, assured portrayal; her almost otherworldly face perfectly brings us into a level of fantasy. And though she is crippled with limited screen time, Kidman is at once seductive and menacing. Her face and eyes move from grace to ferocity in the blink of an eye, making her Mrs. Coulter a villain of the most memorable kind: the kind that befriend you before showing their true faces.
THE GOLDEN COMPASS is a promising start to a new series; there are improvements that can be made, but the biggest challenges are yet to come. But in today’s age, “just all right” will not be enough. The filmmakers have serious ground to make up, should the sequels be made. Weitz will have to show more bravery in dealing with the material, which will remain controversial no matter how much he waters it down. But the film is still enjoyable, and sure to be a favorite among fantasy film fans. It still works, just not as well as it should.
**/****
The film serves as an introduction to a world parallel to our own, where a person’s soul is represented by an animal being, daemons, that moves beside them. Lyra (newcomer Dakota Blue Richards) is an orphan student at Jordan College, placed there by her powerful uncle Lord Asriel (Daniel Craig). While spying on a meeting led by him, Lyra learns of the “dust”; particles that attach a human to their daemon and stretch into alternate worlds. Asriel seeks to travel to the North Pole in an attempt to bride universes, but the Magisterium (headed by a man with a dorky comb-over and clichéd wide-eyed suspicious glares) declaims such acts as heresy. Meanwhile, Lyra is drafted into the employ of Mrs. Coulter (a wonderfully icy Nicole Kidman), a woman whose motives may not be all they seem. Before departing the school Lyra is given an Alethiometer, a truth-telling compass outlawed by the Magisterium. Lyra soon hears her school friends are being kidnapped, and as her suspicion against Mrs. Coulter mounts, she decided to take manners into her own hands. Along the way she drafts a cowboy-like air pilot (Sam Elliot) and a gigantic polar bear into her envoy as well as interacting with the mysterious witches (led by Eva Green).
It sounds like a lot of plot, and indeed it is. THE GOLDEN COMPASS races from one important point to another, leaving no time in between for a breather. It acts as a 101 course to Pullman’s world; most of the scenes involve someone sitting Lyra down and explaining things. The viewer is talked at almost relentlessly; something that becomes rather irritating in a film that proclaimed to be an epic adventure. It doesn’t help that the action sequences are far too short; any set piece doesn’t last longer than five minutes, if that. It really is a shame, as they start off so promising. A fight between two (wonderfully rendered) polar bears is particularly exciting, though its knock-out ending cuts the action off abruptly. Particularly frustrating is the film’s finale, which tries to wrap things up too quickly to leave the viewer with a warm, fuzzy feeling.
As said, the source’s more controversial points have been severely eased. Anyone coming into the film without prior knowledge would find the film’s stance against the Magisterium to be a mild attack on the current government, and nothing more. The entire situation is very vague; sure, they’re villains, but no one really explains why, other than a few “well, they’ve kinda done this” statements. Writer/director Chris Weitz was clearly frightened about how he was going to present the material. But unfortunately, the most controversial material is yet to come, should the other books be adapted.
Still, there are aspects to admire. The film is dazzling to behold; the film reportedly cost around $200 million to produce, and it shows. Every aspect of the technical design is impeccably rendered, especially the film’s extensive visual effects. The viewer may not be fully attentive through the whole film, but everything sure does look pretty. Add to that several admirable performances, particularly from Richards and Kidman. As Lyra, Richards brings a smart, assured portrayal; her almost otherworldly face perfectly brings us into a level of fantasy. And though she is crippled with limited screen time, Kidman is at once seductive and menacing. Her face and eyes move from grace to ferocity in the blink of an eye, making her Mrs. Coulter a villain of the most memorable kind: the kind that befriend you before showing their true faces.
THE GOLDEN COMPASS is a promising start to a new series; there are improvements that can be made, but the biggest challenges are yet to come. But in today’s age, “just all right” will not be enough. The filmmakers have serious ground to make up, should the sequels be made. Weitz will have to show more bravery in dealing with the material, which will remain controversial no matter how much he waters it down. But the film is still enjoyable, and sure to be a favorite among fantasy film fans. It still works, just not as well as it should.
**/****
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street
Ever since its legendary original production in 1979, SWEENEY TODD has been heralded as one of the great masterpieces of musical theatre. Rumblings of a film adaptation have been circulating for years, with directorial duties signed to Tim Burton in the late 90s and Sam Mendes earlier this decade. For a while, there were rumors of Russell Crowe making his directorial debut with the film. Now it has finally arrived, back in Burton’s hands, perhaps the ones best equipped to handle such a piece. SWEENEY TODD will likely come to be known as Burton’s best film, one where his penchant for visuals finally coincides completely with a satisfying story.
Returning to London years after being imprisoned and sent away, master barber Benjamin Barker, now calling himself Sweeney Todd (Johnny Depp), returns to his former shop in hopes of finding his wife and daughter waiting for him. Instead he finds Mrs. Lovett (Helena Bonham Carter), an untalented pie maker whose shop lies below his. She tells him his wife is gone and the judge who sentenced Todd now keeps his daughter. Incensed with fury, Todd vows to get revenge on those who destroyed his family. And he will complete this the best way he knows how; through his skills with a razor.
The material is already filled with the kind of dark macabre humor that Burton is so fond of, and he clearly relishes in it. Every last bit of the film is intricately designed: the art direction and costume design bring Burton’s vision of period London beautifully to life. The masterful production work here is enhanced by Dariusz Wolski’s cinematography. The nighttime images lit seemingly by flames alone send chills down the spine. The color saturation is also something to behold. The film is awash in a colorless world save for a few items; occasional pieces of clothing, a side-splitting trip to the sea with Mrs. Lovett and, most importantly, the blood. Much has been made of the film’s gruesomeness, and it is indeed gory; the violence only gets worse as Todd’s victims begin to pile up. But it never feels out of place; the blood drips like paint, almost glowing in relation to the rest of the image. The violence is meant to make the viewer squirm, and Burton sells that point. It is meant to make you laugh, not scream.
Longtime Burton collaborator Depp contributes another fantastic performance, more layered and affecting than his other recent roles. His Todd is gaunt, single-minded and frightened; viewers will not be trying to guess which figures he’s based his characterization on his time. He successfully is alternately sympathetic and repulsive; his goals are cheered but the monster he becomes is terrifying. His distinctly rock-ish singing voice may not be the best suited for Stephen Sondheim’s score, but he delivers it with the utmost dedication. Like Depp, Helena Bonham Carter is clearly not a trained singer, but instead of ignoring it, she bases her Mrs. Lovett around her weak voice. She is a quiet, desperate woman yearning for companionship but scared to admit it. She imbues her lines with a wearied tone, displaying her sharp comic timing with perfect flat-faced delivery. She also arises much more sympathetic than other Mrs. Lovetts; some of her scenes, particularly ones with the child Toby (newcomer Ed Sanders) are heartbreaking. Together, Depp and Bonham Carter create a subdued couple, but one that works perfectly for the film.
This is the film Burton was born to direct, and he’s pulled it off magnificently. This is thanks in no small part to John Logan’s screenplay, one which is likely to be ignored, sadly. Large cuts have been made from the source, but the transitions are tightly crafted and it doesn’t feel like anything is missing. Even with the cuts, the film remains faithful to its source, sticking in images that will be familiar to fans of the original production. So often Burton has valued style over substance, leading to a handful of films that start off well before going downhill. SWEENEY TODD has none of that; it is compelling from start to finish, at times hilarious, heartbreaking and horrifying. Drawing strength from performances that embrace their performers’ flaws and adapt them, Burton’s film is a tremendous achievement. He has more than merely done justice to the material. The film could not come any better. This could very well be the greatest work Burton has ever done.
****/****
Returning to London years after being imprisoned and sent away, master barber Benjamin Barker, now calling himself Sweeney Todd (Johnny Depp), returns to his former shop in hopes of finding his wife and daughter waiting for him. Instead he finds Mrs. Lovett (Helena Bonham Carter), an untalented pie maker whose shop lies below his. She tells him his wife is gone and the judge who sentenced Todd now keeps his daughter. Incensed with fury, Todd vows to get revenge on those who destroyed his family. And he will complete this the best way he knows how; through his skills with a razor.
The material is already filled with the kind of dark macabre humor that Burton is so fond of, and he clearly relishes in it. Every last bit of the film is intricately designed: the art direction and costume design bring Burton’s vision of period London beautifully to life. The masterful production work here is enhanced by Dariusz Wolski’s cinematography. The nighttime images lit seemingly by flames alone send chills down the spine. The color saturation is also something to behold. The film is awash in a colorless world save for a few items; occasional pieces of clothing, a side-splitting trip to the sea with Mrs. Lovett and, most importantly, the blood. Much has been made of the film’s gruesomeness, and it is indeed gory; the violence only gets worse as Todd’s victims begin to pile up. But it never feels out of place; the blood drips like paint, almost glowing in relation to the rest of the image. The violence is meant to make the viewer squirm, and Burton sells that point. It is meant to make you laugh, not scream.
Longtime Burton collaborator Depp contributes another fantastic performance, more layered and affecting than his other recent roles. His Todd is gaunt, single-minded and frightened; viewers will not be trying to guess which figures he’s based his characterization on his time. He successfully is alternately sympathetic and repulsive; his goals are cheered but the monster he becomes is terrifying. His distinctly rock-ish singing voice may not be the best suited for Stephen Sondheim’s score, but he delivers it with the utmost dedication. Like Depp, Helena Bonham Carter is clearly not a trained singer, but instead of ignoring it, she bases her Mrs. Lovett around her weak voice. She is a quiet, desperate woman yearning for companionship but scared to admit it. She imbues her lines with a wearied tone, displaying her sharp comic timing with perfect flat-faced delivery. She also arises much more sympathetic than other Mrs. Lovetts; some of her scenes, particularly ones with the child Toby (newcomer Ed Sanders) are heartbreaking. Together, Depp and Bonham Carter create a subdued couple, but one that works perfectly for the film.
This is the film Burton was born to direct, and he’s pulled it off magnificently. This is thanks in no small part to John Logan’s screenplay, one which is likely to be ignored, sadly. Large cuts have been made from the source, but the transitions are tightly crafted and it doesn’t feel like anything is missing. Even with the cuts, the film remains faithful to its source, sticking in images that will be familiar to fans of the original production. So often Burton has valued style over substance, leading to a handful of films that start off well before going downhill. SWEENEY TODD has none of that; it is compelling from start to finish, at times hilarious, heartbreaking and horrifying. Drawing strength from performances that embrace their performers’ flaws and adapt them, Burton’s film is a tremendous achievement. He has more than merely done justice to the material. The film could not come any better. This could very well be the greatest work Burton has ever done.
****/****
Thursday, November 29, 2007
The Orphanage
In this day and age, it seems unlikely that a haunted house movie would be the scariest to come along in years. But here we are with THE ORPHANAGE, a not-so-ordinary ghost story that draws upon the horror classics of yesteryear; the frights come from what we cannot see but know is there. Director J.A. Bayona and screenwriter Sergio G. Sanchez (under the guidance of producer Guillermo del Toro) have crafted a modern masterpiece of less-is-more. Yet in many ways, the film’s greatest strengths lie not in its sequences of harrowing suspense but its dramatic aspirations.
Laura (Belen Rueda) is an orphan who’s returned to her former home to open a school for special needs children. Living with her in the large, creaky and maze-like former school is her husband and adopted son Simon who suffers from a debilitating illness, a secret kept even from him by his parents. Simon has always had imaginary friends, but Laura becomes increasingly unsettled when he meets six new invisible friends while scouting a nearby cave. Then things take a turn for the worse: a strange woman enters the house, claiming to be a social worker. Laura later finds her hiding in a storage shed. A game that Simon’s friends lead him into reveals that he knows more about his past than he lets on. And during a welcome party for the new children, a figure wearing a sack mask violently forces Laura into the bathroom and locks her in. When she is released, Simon is gone. Months pass without a clue to his disappearance, and Laura begins to suspect that Simon’s new friends may not be imaginary after all.
The film strives on techniques that have been around for ages. Creaking floors, thumping footsteps, doors closing by themselves, flickering lights, etc. The story is definitely old fashioned and the filmmakers do not stray from that mood. Still, the mounting suspense that builds to an almost unbearable level makes the film more effective than trying to gross-out its audience with excessive gore. There are jump scares and a particularly disturbing and graphic scene, but the film is incredibly restrained. When the final stages are entered and Laura is isolated in the large house, the tension reaches dizzying heights. Expectations skyrocket and for once, the viewer is not shortchanged. There are no cheap tricks, no glaringly obvious plot holes to keep us from getting the ending before it arrives. Bayona’s strengths clearly lie with creating this kind of heavy mood, thanks to excellent sound design and editing.
But what is most surprising about THE ORPHANAGE is its sense of drama. It is every bit as much a drama as a horror. Most horror films are content will developing their characters just enough to get the viewers to care, but Belen Rueda’s performance will tear hearts out. Her desperation and panic as time passes is devastating; her devotion to her missing son truly touching. The climax of the film is not effective because of its suspense (though it is terrifying), but because of Rueda. It may be the only film that will have people screaming in fear while tears gather.
THE ORPHANAGE takes horror conventions we all know; conventions that seem unlikely to be effective today. But the film proves just how frightening darkness can be, and how we still can be scared of things we cannot see. We must often rely on what the characters say they see, forcing us to listen to the terror of what is going on around them. It’s a simple story effectively done. This is a film for people who want to really be scared at the movie. Not just grossed out.
****/****
Laura (Belen Rueda) is an orphan who’s returned to her former home to open a school for special needs children. Living with her in the large, creaky and maze-like former school is her husband and adopted son Simon who suffers from a debilitating illness, a secret kept even from him by his parents. Simon has always had imaginary friends, but Laura becomes increasingly unsettled when he meets six new invisible friends while scouting a nearby cave. Then things take a turn for the worse: a strange woman enters the house, claiming to be a social worker. Laura later finds her hiding in a storage shed. A game that Simon’s friends lead him into reveals that he knows more about his past than he lets on. And during a welcome party for the new children, a figure wearing a sack mask violently forces Laura into the bathroom and locks her in. When she is released, Simon is gone. Months pass without a clue to his disappearance, and Laura begins to suspect that Simon’s new friends may not be imaginary after all.
The film strives on techniques that have been around for ages. Creaking floors, thumping footsteps, doors closing by themselves, flickering lights, etc. The story is definitely old fashioned and the filmmakers do not stray from that mood. Still, the mounting suspense that builds to an almost unbearable level makes the film more effective than trying to gross-out its audience with excessive gore. There are jump scares and a particularly disturbing and graphic scene, but the film is incredibly restrained. When the final stages are entered and Laura is isolated in the large house, the tension reaches dizzying heights. Expectations skyrocket and for once, the viewer is not shortchanged. There are no cheap tricks, no glaringly obvious plot holes to keep us from getting the ending before it arrives. Bayona’s strengths clearly lie with creating this kind of heavy mood, thanks to excellent sound design and editing.
But what is most surprising about THE ORPHANAGE is its sense of drama. It is every bit as much a drama as a horror. Most horror films are content will developing their characters just enough to get the viewers to care, but Belen Rueda’s performance will tear hearts out. Her desperation and panic as time passes is devastating; her devotion to her missing son truly touching. The climax of the film is not effective because of its suspense (though it is terrifying), but because of Rueda. It may be the only film that will have people screaming in fear while tears gather.
THE ORPHANAGE takes horror conventions we all know; conventions that seem unlikely to be effective today. But the film proves just how frightening darkness can be, and how we still can be scared of things we cannot see. We must often rely on what the characters say they see, forcing us to listen to the terror of what is going on around them. It’s a simple story effectively done. This is a film for people who want to really be scared at the movie. Not just grossed out.
****/****
Monday, November 26, 2007
August Rush
One would imagine that the depressing-when-you-think-about-it world of Dickensian literature would be even direr and saddening when transported to the here and now. Yet AUGUST RUSH completely rejects that notion. A music-driven update of OLIVER TWIST without most of the strife and with extra heart to spare, the film is nonsensical but charming and touching to those willing to go with it. The titular character says, “I believe in music the way some people believe in fairy tales”, which aptly describes the entire film in itself. A fairy tale about the power of love through music.
Evan Taylor (the seemingly unaging Freddie Highmore) is an orphan believes that his parents are still alive and looking for him. But he doesn’t cling to a hope, he knows for sure; he can hear them in the music that surrounds him. Realizing that he’ll have to move into the outside world so his parents can hear him, he runs away from his small-town orphanage and into the crazed midst of New York City. As the beginnings of Evan’s story are told, we are given the story of his birth; a one-night romance between an Irish rocker (Jonathan Rhys Meyers) and a classical cellist (Keri Russell), whose connection is inspired by a harmonica/guitar rendition of Van Morrison’s “Moondance”. In the present day, Evan’s mother, believing her son dead, lives a meager existence. When the truth is revealed to her, she begins a frantic search to find him. His father is also on the search, desperately trying to track down the source of his inspiration. All the while, Evan’s astounding musical talents are being cultivated by his very own Fagin, a cowboy named Wizard (Robin Williams), who gives him the stage name “August Rush” and sets him on his way to fame.
The story owes more to OLIVER TWIST than mere inspiration; it’s practically a remake. Yet none of Dickens’ urgency is present, and though August faces problem after problem, there’s never a doubt in our minds that all will turn out well. August is actually pretty lucky for an orphan living alone in New York City. Not only does he find a homeless guardian who is not a pedophile, even though he has a horde of young children in his care, his extraordinary gift seems to instantly dispel any punishment coming his way. Near the finale, when the film attempts to create a villain, it suffers. Sure, August is sad, but everything is going to be all right. This, along with most of the film, will be eye-rollingly nonsensical and irritating to some, but the film has a few key elements that manage to retain the viewer’s attention.
Chief among them are the performances of Highmore and Russell. Ever since 2004’s FINDING NEVERLAND, Highmore has proven to be today’s premier child actor. His wide blue eyes practically dare people not to care. And with all the eyes-to-the-skies looks of hope that he and the other characters give in nearly every scene, it’s difficult not to be affected. As for Russell, although she’s been in the public eye for nearly ten years, 2007 will be remembered as her breakout year. Along with her performance in WAITRESS, she is quickly proving to be a great dramatic actress. Her clear, open face gives her an instant likeability reminiscent of Audrey Hepburn. The film’s giant plot holes (there are many) don’t seem so obvious we see Russell’s heart breaking over his missing son.
As it is expected in a film so tightly driven by music, Mark Mancina’s score is a focus in most of the film. He acquits himself well, blending the sounds of everyday living cleverly into the score. The centerpiece of his writing is the focus of the film’s finale, and thanks to Mancina’s sweeping and inspirational music, becomes genuinely affecting. Yes, it may even produce tears.
The key to enjoying this film is to suspend your disbelief and completely abandon common sense. The film is designed as a fairy tale, and though the fantastical elements are extremely muted, it should be treated as such. Director Kirsten Sheridan fills the screen with pretty images that, though overwrought at times, serve to heighten the light nature of the story. AUGUST RUSH is not a life changing experience, but it’s a charming little diversion that once again proves how much power love and music can have.
***/****
Evan Taylor (the seemingly unaging Freddie Highmore) is an orphan believes that his parents are still alive and looking for him. But he doesn’t cling to a hope, he knows for sure; he can hear them in the music that surrounds him. Realizing that he’ll have to move into the outside world so his parents can hear him, he runs away from his small-town orphanage and into the crazed midst of New York City. As the beginnings of Evan’s story are told, we are given the story of his birth; a one-night romance between an Irish rocker (Jonathan Rhys Meyers) and a classical cellist (Keri Russell), whose connection is inspired by a harmonica/guitar rendition of Van Morrison’s “Moondance”. In the present day, Evan’s mother, believing her son dead, lives a meager existence. When the truth is revealed to her, she begins a frantic search to find him. His father is also on the search, desperately trying to track down the source of his inspiration. All the while, Evan’s astounding musical talents are being cultivated by his very own Fagin, a cowboy named Wizard (Robin Williams), who gives him the stage name “August Rush” and sets him on his way to fame.
The story owes more to OLIVER TWIST than mere inspiration; it’s practically a remake. Yet none of Dickens’ urgency is present, and though August faces problem after problem, there’s never a doubt in our minds that all will turn out well. August is actually pretty lucky for an orphan living alone in New York City. Not only does he find a homeless guardian who is not a pedophile, even though he has a horde of young children in his care, his extraordinary gift seems to instantly dispel any punishment coming his way. Near the finale, when the film attempts to create a villain, it suffers. Sure, August is sad, but everything is going to be all right. This, along with most of the film, will be eye-rollingly nonsensical and irritating to some, but the film has a few key elements that manage to retain the viewer’s attention.
Chief among them are the performances of Highmore and Russell. Ever since 2004’s FINDING NEVERLAND, Highmore has proven to be today’s premier child actor. His wide blue eyes practically dare people not to care. And with all the eyes-to-the-skies looks of hope that he and the other characters give in nearly every scene, it’s difficult not to be affected. As for Russell, although she’s been in the public eye for nearly ten years, 2007 will be remembered as her breakout year. Along with her performance in WAITRESS, she is quickly proving to be a great dramatic actress. Her clear, open face gives her an instant likeability reminiscent of Audrey Hepburn. The film’s giant plot holes (there are many) don’t seem so obvious we see Russell’s heart breaking over his missing son.
As it is expected in a film so tightly driven by music, Mark Mancina’s score is a focus in most of the film. He acquits himself well, blending the sounds of everyday living cleverly into the score. The centerpiece of his writing is the focus of the film’s finale, and thanks to Mancina’s sweeping and inspirational music, becomes genuinely affecting. Yes, it may even produce tears.
The key to enjoying this film is to suspend your disbelief and completely abandon common sense. The film is designed as a fairy tale, and though the fantastical elements are extremely muted, it should be treated as such. Director Kirsten Sheridan fills the screen with pretty images that, though overwrought at times, serve to heighten the light nature of the story. AUGUST RUSH is not a life changing experience, but it’s a charming little diversion that once again proves how much power love and music can have.
***/****
Sunday, November 25, 2007
The Mist
THE MIST has been one of those Stephen King works that continually elude adaptations over the years. Well, it’s finally arrived in a theatre near you, courtesy of accomplished King adapter Frank Darabont (THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION and THE GREEN MILE). Since Darabont’s reputation with King’s work has been so praised, it’s only natural to assume that THE MIST is one of the better Stephen King films, right? Well, yes. But it’s still not a good movie. The clichés of the story are pulled off well, but when Darabont deviates from what King has created, most notably in the film’s finale, it becomes hokey, heavy-handed and nearly unbearable.
The plot is one that’s been told many times before. After a terrible storm, residents of a small Maine town descend upon the local supermarket to stock up on supplies. Little do they know that a dense and impenetrable mist is moving in on them. Before they know it, the store is surrounded by the mist and the people inside are all but stranded. Then the real trouble begins. A panicked man races into the store, screaming about something in the mist. A lowly bag boy (of course he’s the first victim) is pulled away by a creature with lots of tentacles. And as the survivors begin to realize exactly what surrounds them, the monsters inside the store begin to show their faces.
It’s all very typical horror movie conventions, especially the ones King has helped to create. There are echoes here of many of his other works, most notably STORM OF THE CENTURY. But for quite some time, the viewer goes along with it; it is a horror movie after all. These sorts of things are to be expected. But as the film goes on, these characters prescribe more and more to typical stupid people behavior that instantly spells doom. Instead of running away from the creatures, they stand and stare in terror for far too long. When a character makes a revelation that some creatures are attracted to light, what happens? A panicked person turns on all the lights. And let’s not forget the completely implausible explanations that do not mesh with the film at all. Yet when the film tries to depart from horror movie conventions, it takes an even worse turn. The film’s finale, drastically different from its source, is a risky undertaking. And one that proves completely pointless. Not only is it eye-rollingly, head-slappingly obvious, leaving the viewers thinking, “Well, it sucks to be you”, it is acted and designed in such an overtly melodramatic, heavy-handed way (with the most irritating use of movie music this year) that any latecomers will think the Sci-Fi channel has merged with the Lifetime network.
Darabont directs most of the movie with his typical sleek style, yet at times he feels the need to shake things up and bring the film into a 24-like setting. The graceful camera movements and slow changes of focus are shattered by quick zooms on characters and the occasional handheld shot. While the latter approach may have been effective if he wanted to create a documentary-like film, it really feels out of place when most of it is shot in typical Hollywood style. Not to mention that the rather spotty special effects (especially in the first attack) make the handheld shots seem even more off. He tries desperately to create a movie that’s above the typical horror on all levels, but he certainly isn’t being helped by much of the cast. While Marcia Gay Harden (as a half-crazed religious zealot) hams it up and makes a memorable villain, Thomas Jane (as the manly, heroic movie poster painter) falls short. Sure, he’s a strong figure and completely cut out for leading people, but when he is required to do dramatic scenes, he comes off as fake and unconvincing. He cannot hold a look of genuine despair for longer than five seconds, always cutting in with a blank look that strongly resembles boredom.
Darabont has taken what could have been an enjoyable, if predictable, horror movie and turned it into a beleagured, overlong and melodramatic trudge. Most of these faults lie with the new ending, which is much less effective and thought-provoking than the story’s original. While THE MIST is better than the lame efforts most of King’s work receives on screen, it is still far from a good movie. Sometimes we just want to be scared, you know? Just scared from what’s happening in a movie, not scared by how what’s happening in a movie relates to the real world. Many directors understand this, at the very least. Not Frank Darabont, it would seem.
*1/2/****
The plot is one that’s been told many times before. After a terrible storm, residents of a small Maine town descend upon the local supermarket to stock up on supplies. Little do they know that a dense and impenetrable mist is moving in on them. Before they know it, the store is surrounded by the mist and the people inside are all but stranded. Then the real trouble begins. A panicked man races into the store, screaming about something in the mist. A lowly bag boy (of course he’s the first victim) is pulled away by a creature with lots of tentacles. And as the survivors begin to realize exactly what surrounds them, the monsters inside the store begin to show their faces.
It’s all very typical horror movie conventions, especially the ones King has helped to create. There are echoes here of many of his other works, most notably STORM OF THE CENTURY. But for quite some time, the viewer goes along with it; it is a horror movie after all. These sorts of things are to be expected. But as the film goes on, these characters prescribe more and more to typical stupid people behavior that instantly spells doom. Instead of running away from the creatures, they stand and stare in terror for far too long. When a character makes a revelation that some creatures are attracted to light, what happens? A panicked person turns on all the lights. And let’s not forget the completely implausible explanations that do not mesh with the film at all. Yet when the film tries to depart from horror movie conventions, it takes an even worse turn. The film’s finale, drastically different from its source, is a risky undertaking. And one that proves completely pointless. Not only is it eye-rollingly, head-slappingly obvious, leaving the viewers thinking, “Well, it sucks to be you”, it is acted and designed in such an overtly melodramatic, heavy-handed way (with the most irritating use of movie music this year) that any latecomers will think the Sci-Fi channel has merged with the Lifetime network.
Darabont directs most of the movie with his typical sleek style, yet at times he feels the need to shake things up and bring the film into a 24-like setting. The graceful camera movements and slow changes of focus are shattered by quick zooms on characters and the occasional handheld shot. While the latter approach may have been effective if he wanted to create a documentary-like film, it really feels out of place when most of it is shot in typical Hollywood style. Not to mention that the rather spotty special effects (especially in the first attack) make the handheld shots seem even more off. He tries desperately to create a movie that’s above the typical horror on all levels, but he certainly isn’t being helped by much of the cast. While Marcia Gay Harden (as a half-crazed religious zealot) hams it up and makes a memorable villain, Thomas Jane (as the manly, heroic movie poster painter) falls short. Sure, he’s a strong figure and completely cut out for leading people, but when he is required to do dramatic scenes, he comes off as fake and unconvincing. He cannot hold a look of genuine despair for longer than five seconds, always cutting in with a blank look that strongly resembles boredom.
Darabont has taken what could have been an enjoyable, if predictable, horror movie and turned it into a beleagured, overlong and melodramatic trudge. Most of these faults lie with the new ending, which is much less effective and thought-provoking than the story’s original. While THE MIST is better than the lame efforts most of King’s work receives on screen, it is still far from a good movie. Sometimes we just want to be scared, you know? Just scared from what’s happening in a movie, not scared by how what’s happening in a movie relates to the real world. Many directors understand this, at the very least. Not Frank Darabont, it would seem.
*1/2/****
Friday, November 23, 2007
Margot at the Wedding
There are a great many people who will look at the title MARGOT AT THE WEDDING and wonder if that’s a reference to French New Wave director Eric Rohmer. And the title is not the only reference. Writer/director Noah Baumbach’s newest film is tightly tied to the ideals of the French New Wave, from the look and feel of the film to the portrayal of its characters. This dedication to a more “realistic” sense of filmmaking is likely to turn off some while intrigue others. And while it may not be a complete success, MARGOT AT THE WEDDING has many things to admire.
Neurotic and destructive Margot (Nicole Kidman), a short story writer who draws heavily from real life, is about to end a years-long silence with her sister Pauline (Jennifer Jason Leigh) when she travels to her childhood home for a wedding. The sisters have an unconventional relationship to say the least. They joke one minute, shout at each other the next. And throughout this, several things become clear, the clearest being that Margot doesn’t like Pauline’s fiancé, an unemployed painter/musician (Jack Black). None of these people are particularly likable, and their neuroses and suspicions against each other keep building and building, inevitably leading to a complete breakdown.
There is one thing that’s sure about this film; the characters are not meant to be liked. Baumbach goes out of his way to make sure the audience detests nearly every character in the film. Margot is selfish and off-putting. The only way she can booster her own self-esteem is by knocking down others; she laughingly comments that her sister cannot make eye contact with others, that her son smells bad and is growing stupid, and in more than one case accuses a potential attacker of being retarded. Pauline and Malcolm (the fiancé) don’t fare much better either; each of them are severely complicated individuals whose flaws seem to inflate in Margot’s presence. They discuss nearly every topic with irritating nonchalance, freely admitting to their children that they’ve been abused by their parents or babysitters. Whenever one of these characters finally breaks down and reaches out for help, it is far from sympathetic. It is pathetic. Yet many will argue that this is undeniably “real”; these are how real people are, and this is how real people react. They argue, they are selfish and their revelations are often pitiful to watch. Oh, and every adult is a victim of child abuse. That’s real.
These difficult characters, however, have lead to some extraordinary performances, particularly from Kidman and Leigh. Baumbach has successfully tapped into Kidman’s natural frigidity, which so often hampers her other performances. Kidman herself is completely committed to the part; her Margot is tightly wound, always wavering between laughter and tears. Thanks to Kidman, Margot’s incessant putdowns come off a clear warning signs of a breakdown about to occur, not needless bickering. It’s one of the braver, subtler performances of her career, unfortunately likely to be ignored, as her more subtle work often is. Leigh is compelling as well; Pauline desperately seeks approval from Margot while carelessly rejected it, whatever small doses she gets. She is just as tightly wound as Margot, yet fully conscious of her and her sister’s faults and the effects it has on those around them. Leigh plays Pauline as the reluctant voice of reason, a feat that is subtle and astonishing in itself. Even Jack Black acquits himself nicely, managing to hone in the broadness for a different kind of comedy; one where we laugh at the characters, not with them.
There are a lot of problems within MARGOT AT THE WEDDING, and most of them are intentional. If the viewer is willing to accept that these people are fatally flawed and will never change, they will be the better for it. This is a film about people who are so set in their ways that they’re beyond saving in many ways. Whether this makes it real or not is up to the viewer. One has to wonder exactly how Baumbach intends this film to be taken. Like many works of the French New Wave, its effect will be different for everyone who views it. For some, it will be insightful and artistic. For others, a lot of intellectual mumbo-jumbo that doesn’t go anywhere.
***/****
Neurotic and destructive Margot (Nicole Kidman), a short story writer who draws heavily from real life, is about to end a years-long silence with her sister Pauline (Jennifer Jason Leigh) when she travels to her childhood home for a wedding. The sisters have an unconventional relationship to say the least. They joke one minute, shout at each other the next. And throughout this, several things become clear, the clearest being that Margot doesn’t like Pauline’s fiancé, an unemployed painter/musician (Jack Black). None of these people are particularly likable, and their neuroses and suspicions against each other keep building and building, inevitably leading to a complete breakdown.
There is one thing that’s sure about this film; the characters are not meant to be liked. Baumbach goes out of his way to make sure the audience detests nearly every character in the film. Margot is selfish and off-putting. The only way she can booster her own self-esteem is by knocking down others; she laughingly comments that her sister cannot make eye contact with others, that her son smells bad and is growing stupid, and in more than one case accuses a potential attacker of being retarded. Pauline and Malcolm (the fiancé) don’t fare much better either; each of them are severely complicated individuals whose flaws seem to inflate in Margot’s presence. They discuss nearly every topic with irritating nonchalance, freely admitting to their children that they’ve been abused by their parents or babysitters. Whenever one of these characters finally breaks down and reaches out for help, it is far from sympathetic. It is pathetic. Yet many will argue that this is undeniably “real”; these are how real people are, and this is how real people react. They argue, they are selfish and their revelations are often pitiful to watch. Oh, and every adult is a victim of child abuse. That’s real.
These difficult characters, however, have lead to some extraordinary performances, particularly from Kidman and Leigh. Baumbach has successfully tapped into Kidman’s natural frigidity, which so often hampers her other performances. Kidman herself is completely committed to the part; her Margot is tightly wound, always wavering between laughter and tears. Thanks to Kidman, Margot’s incessant putdowns come off a clear warning signs of a breakdown about to occur, not needless bickering. It’s one of the braver, subtler performances of her career, unfortunately likely to be ignored, as her more subtle work often is. Leigh is compelling as well; Pauline desperately seeks approval from Margot while carelessly rejected it, whatever small doses she gets. She is just as tightly wound as Margot, yet fully conscious of her and her sister’s faults and the effects it has on those around them. Leigh plays Pauline as the reluctant voice of reason, a feat that is subtle and astonishing in itself. Even Jack Black acquits himself nicely, managing to hone in the broadness for a different kind of comedy; one where we laugh at the characters, not with them.
There are a lot of problems within MARGOT AT THE WEDDING, and most of them are intentional. If the viewer is willing to accept that these people are fatally flawed and will never change, they will be the better for it. This is a film about people who are so set in their ways that they’re beyond saving in many ways. Whether this makes it real or not is up to the viewer. One has to wonder exactly how Baumbach intends this film to be taken. Like many works of the French New Wave, its effect will be different for everyone who views it. For some, it will be insightful and artistic. For others, a lot of intellectual mumbo-jumbo that doesn’t go anywhere.
***/****
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Enchanted
Taking a page from SHREK and alternately signaling its return to the days of classic Disney, ENCHANTED is a charming spoof of the fairy tale conventions we all know and an introduction to Disney’s newest beloved princess. Thanks to a pitch-perfect performance from Amy Adams, the film manages to make good on the old “fish out of water” ploy and remain fresh and exciting throughout.
Starting off in traditional cel animation (the studio’s first attempt since 2004), ENCHANTED starts off with the classic fairy tale romance between Giselle and Prince Edward, who meet and fall in love through the power of song. But wherever true love is found, evil cannot be far away. This arises in the form of Narissa, Edward’s stepmother who is afraid of letting her kingdom slip into another’s hands. She banishes Giselle to the place where happy endings never come true: modern day New York. The film switches into live action (and a wider format) and we again meet Giselle (Adams), lost and confused in the unfriendly real world. She is saved by Robert (Patrick Dempsey), a divorce lawyer with a rather downtrodden view on life. Their mismatched personalities spar at first, but soon Giselle teaches Robert and his young daughter about the joy of true love and all that stuff in the fairy tales.
The film is chock full of references to past Disney animated films. Giselle herself is an amalgam of Snow White, Belle and Ariel (if only because of Adam’s long red hair). The evil queen (hammily rendered in live action by Susan Sarandon) is a dead ringer for Snow White’s stepmother; she even dresses as a hag and offers poisoned apples. Some of the film’s charm lies in finding the visual cues to past films (such as Giselle reflected in bubbles a la CINDERELLA), but when the plot seems so focused on the throwbacks, especially SNOW WHITE, the whole thing becomes a bit tired and clichéd. The film’s finale, therefore, doesn’t come off as particularly exciting. We all know exactly how the story is going to end, even if there are a few 21st century twists along the way.
The real reason for the film’s success, and where most of its charm lies, is in Amy Adams’s live action performance. She is a Disney princess brought to life, and there’s nothing more to say about it. Skipping and singing through the early parts of the film, in a nearly unwieldy dress no less, she appears to have had every Disney cartoon implanted into her brain. Her sweetness and sadness are so animated and sympathetic, Giselle ranks up there with Belle, Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty. This is a breakthrough performance for Adams, who will probably have to prepare herself for hordes of 10-year-old fans for the rest of her life.
Director Kevin Lima (of past Disney films TARZAN and 102 DALMATIANS) keeps things lively, always winking at the audience to keep things from getting too sappy. This is never more apparent then when Giselle bursts into song. She calls out for her animal friends to help clean the house, and rats, deformed pigeons, flies and cockroaches swarm the room. When she sings in Central Park, the act quickly turns into a full-blown musical number with everyone joining in. Except, of course for Robert, who watches confusedly, wondering aloud why everyone seems to know the song. The numbers, penned by Disney alums Alan Menken and Stephen Schwartz are bouncy and bright, hearkening back to the glory days of the Disney animated musical.
The filmmakers and audience are so enamored with the comic possibilities invented that the sense of danger rarely pervades the scene. And indeed, the dramatic finale seems tacked onto the rest of the proceedings. But that does not deflate the sense of charm that viewers of all ages will be infected by. While not as clever a self-parody as other films, Adams’s inspired performance and light, breezy tone make ENCHANTED the perfect family film for the holidays. Even if the animation does not rank with Disney’s most artistic, the film is a fond look back to what came before and an optimistic look at what lies in store.
***/****
Starting off in traditional cel animation (the studio’s first attempt since 2004), ENCHANTED starts off with the classic fairy tale romance between Giselle and Prince Edward, who meet and fall in love through the power of song. But wherever true love is found, evil cannot be far away. This arises in the form of Narissa, Edward’s stepmother who is afraid of letting her kingdom slip into another’s hands. She banishes Giselle to the place where happy endings never come true: modern day New York. The film switches into live action (and a wider format) and we again meet Giselle (Adams), lost and confused in the unfriendly real world. She is saved by Robert (Patrick Dempsey), a divorce lawyer with a rather downtrodden view on life. Their mismatched personalities spar at first, but soon Giselle teaches Robert and his young daughter about the joy of true love and all that stuff in the fairy tales.
The film is chock full of references to past Disney animated films. Giselle herself is an amalgam of Snow White, Belle and Ariel (if only because of Adam’s long red hair). The evil queen (hammily rendered in live action by Susan Sarandon) is a dead ringer for Snow White’s stepmother; she even dresses as a hag and offers poisoned apples. Some of the film’s charm lies in finding the visual cues to past films (such as Giselle reflected in bubbles a la CINDERELLA), but when the plot seems so focused on the throwbacks, especially SNOW WHITE, the whole thing becomes a bit tired and clichéd. The film’s finale, therefore, doesn’t come off as particularly exciting. We all know exactly how the story is going to end, even if there are a few 21st century twists along the way.
The real reason for the film’s success, and where most of its charm lies, is in Amy Adams’s live action performance. She is a Disney princess brought to life, and there’s nothing more to say about it. Skipping and singing through the early parts of the film, in a nearly unwieldy dress no less, she appears to have had every Disney cartoon implanted into her brain. Her sweetness and sadness are so animated and sympathetic, Giselle ranks up there with Belle, Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty. This is a breakthrough performance for Adams, who will probably have to prepare herself for hordes of 10-year-old fans for the rest of her life.
Director Kevin Lima (of past Disney films TARZAN and 102 DALMATIANS) keeps things lively, always winking at the audience to keep things from getting too sappy. This is never more apparent then when Giselle bursts into song. She calls out for her animal friends to help clean the house, and rats, deformed pigeons, flies and cockroaches swarm the room. When she sings in Central Park, the act quickly turns into a full-blown musical number with everyone joining in. Except, of course for Robert, who watches confusedly, wondering aloud why everyone seems to know the song. The numbers, penned by Disney alums Alan Menken and Stephen Schwartz are bouncy and bright, hearkening back to the glory days of the Disney animated musical.
The filmmakers and audience are so enamored with the comic possibilities invented that the sense of danger rarely pervades the scene. And indeed, the dramatic finale seems tacked onto the rest of the proceedings. But that does not deflate the sense of charm that viewers of all ages will be infected by. While not as clever a self-parody as other films, Adams’s inspired performance and light, breezy tone make ENCHANTED the perfect family film for the holidays. Even if the animation does not rank with Disney’s most artistic, the film is a fond look back to what came before and an optimistic look at what lies in store.
***/****
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium
Well, it’s been predicted that consumers may not be spending as much this holiday season. Not if MR. MAGORIUM’S WONDER EMPORIUM has anything to do with it. One of the most noticeable things about the film is its sheer amount of product placement in the titular toy store. There’s everything from Curious George books to Duplo blocks to Lego logs and everything in between. Unfortunately, the fact that these images are so present and memorable after the film indicates there is not much else worth remembering about it. And it’s true; aside from an annoyingly catching title and a few recognizable items, MR. MAGORIUM’S WONDER EMPORIUM is a mess of wannabe originality that seems all too familiar.
The film centers on Molly Mahoney (Natalie Portman), a twentysomething would be composer/pianist who is the store manager of Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium, a magical toy store with a mind of its own. The patriarch and namesake of the shop, Mr. Magorium (Dustin Hoffman) is a 243-year-old wizardly sage of a man, delivering quirky bits of wisdom as often as he recommends toys to his customers, all of whom he seems to know. When he employs a straight-laced accountant (Jason Bateman), lovingly nicknamed “the mutant”, it becomes all to clear that Mr. Magorium is preparing the store for a big change. Whether or not the store will take it well is the question.
Everything in the film is meant to be cutsey, child-like and magical. Yet most of its quirks seem borrowed (in less than exciting ways) from other films. The store itself is nothing more than a family-friendly spin on the old haunted house, while the odd conventions in it are hardly noteworthy; there is a bottomless bag taken directly from MARY POPPINS. This is most evident, however, in Hoffman’s performance as the titular character. Mr. Magorium is probably what Hoffman would have done were he ever cast as Willy Wonka; basically, the same as Gene Wilder but with a lisp. He’s quirky with a capital “Q”. (He’s an avid shoe collector! He has a pet zebra! Look at those crazy eyebrows!) His unusual remarks are also of the clichéd, anything-can-happen-if-you-believe type. While it is nice to get affirming statements once in a while, one prefers a little variety.
The film has a nice look, even if there are flaws here and there. The store itself is wonderfully constructed, vibrantly bringing to life the sense of dizzying disorganization while retaining a classical style. The score, co-written by Alexandre Desplat and Aaron Zigman, is probably the most magical part of the entire thing, completely delightful in every way. Zach Helm, who makes his directorial debut here, has an intriguing visual sense, even if his inexperience is quite obvious at times. Moments that are potentially comedic fall flat because of odd pacing and framing. The film’s visual effects are also a problem; in a piece so full of them, it would have been wise to invest in a larger budget than those seen in made-for-TV movies.
Of course, the film is intended mainly for children, so my jaded and cynical view on life would be ill-suited to it, right? Not necessarily. The film’s insistence on trying to shape a dramatic relationship around Magorium and Mahoney is rather heavy-handed, albeit in an inspirational way. Still, the lack of action throughout much of the film will have youngsters squirming in their seats. Moments of pure excitement are few and far between and everything in between is barely involving for adults, let alone children.
MR. MAGORIUM’S WONDER EMPORIUM does occasionally leave a smile on the face, thanks mostly to the easygoing charm and natural grace of Portman, but as she’s trying to find herself, viewers of all ages will be trying to find their watches. A film like this, though hardly original, does not have to be doomed from the start if it is in capable hands. Unfortunately Helm is too inexperienced to breathe new life into tired ideas, and the film drags endlessly towards its finish. By the end, we are left in a state similar to the store itself late in the film: moody and displeased.
*/****
The film centers on Molly Mahoney (Natalie Portman), a twentysomething would be composer/pianist who is the store manager of Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium, a magical toy store with a mind of its own. The patriarch and namesake of the shop, Mr. Magorium (Dustin Hoffman) is a 243-year-old wizardly sage of a man, delivering quirky bits of wisdom as often as he recommends toys to his customers, all of whom he seems to know. When he employs a straight-laced accountant (Jason Bateman), lovingly nicknamed “the mutant”, it becomes all to clear that Mr. Magorium is preparing the store for a big change. Whether or not the store will take it well is the question.
Everything in the film is meant to be cutsey, child-like and magical. Yet most of its quirks seem borrowed (in less than exciting ways) from other films. The store itself is nothing more than a family-friendly spin on the old haunted house, while the odd conventions in it are hardly noteworthy; there is a bottomless bag taken directly from MARY POPPINS. This is most evident, however, in Hoffman’s performance as the titular character. Mr. Magorium is probably what Hoffman would have done were he ever cast as Willy Wonka; basically, the same as Gene Wilder but with a lisp. He’s quirky with a capital “Q”. (He’s an avid shoe collector! He has a pet zebra! Look at those crazy eyebrows!) His unusual remarks are also of the clichéd, anything-can-happen-if-you-believe type. While it is nice to get affirming statements once in a while, one prefers a little variety.
The film has a nice look, even if there are flaws here and there. The store itself is wonderfully constructed, vibrantly bringing to life the sense of dizzying disorganization while retaining a classical style. The score, co-written by Alexandre Desplat and Aaron Zigman, is probably the most magical part of the entire thing, completely delightful in every way. Zach Helm, who makes his directorial debut here, has an intriguing visual sense, even if his inexperience is quite obvious at times. Moments that are potentially comedic fall flat because of odd pacing and framing. The film’s visual effects are also a problem; in a piece so full of them, it would have been wise to invest in a larger budget than those seen in made-for-TV movies.
Of course, the film is intended mainly for children, so my jaded and cynical view on life would be ill-suited to it, right? Not necessarily. The film’s insistence on trying to shape a dramatic relationship around Magorium and Mahoney is rather heavy-handed, albeit in an inspirational way. Still, the lack of action throughout much of the film will have youngsters squirming in their seats. Moments of pure excitement are few and far between and everything in between is barely involving for adults, let alone children.
MR. MAGORIUM’S WONDER EMPORIUM does occasionally leave a smile on the face, thanks mostly to the easygoing charm and natural grace of Portman, but as she’s trying to find herself, viewers of all ages will be trying to find their watches. A film like this, though hardly original, does not have to be doomed from the start if it is in capable hands. Unfortunately Helm is too inexperienced to breathe new life into tired ideas, and the film drags endlessly towards its finish. By the end, we are left in a state similar to the store itself late in the film: moody and displeased.
*/****
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Beowulf
Director Robert Zemeckis (of BACK TO THE FUTURE and FORREST GUMP) has always placed himself and his works as examples of cutting edge technology, making a self-proclaimed breakthrough in motion-capture animation in 2004’s THE POLAR EXPRESS, which was a decidedly mixed product. Well, Zemeckis has returned with a new and highly advanced style with BEOWULF, an adaptation of the ancient text that owes just as much to co-writers Roger Avary and Neil Gaiman as it does its source. Zemeckis and company do succeed on several levels; the animation is superior to previous outings, as is the fluidity in action and storytelling. Yet there are still key detractions in the animation that keep BEOWULF from being a completely satisfying experience.
Taking its episodic nature from the poem, BEOWULF traces the rise and fall of the great hero, breaking up into basically three segments. In the first, aged King Hrothgar (Anthony Hopkins) calls upon the titular hero (Ray Winstone) to vanquish his kingdom from a gruesome, violent demon Grendel (Crispin Glover). Yet once the monster is killed, Beowulf finds himself facing an even greater foe: Grendel’s mother (Angelina Jolie in a role decidedly different from its counterpart in the source). The third and final section of the film takes place years later, when Beowulf is forced to face the mistakes he made in his first two quests.
The first half of the film follows the poem fairly closely and the technology serves to accomplish what live-action films simply could not; a true adaptation of the English language’s densest works. Yet once Grendel’s mother enters the picture, it takes drastic turns. This will likely frustrate fans of the source, yet as this film is being marketed squarely at the young adult male set, its target market will forgive faithfulness in favor of animated Jolie’s naked body. And Jolie isn’t the only character showing some skin. The usually portly Winstone, transformed into a Conan the Barbarian-like muscleman (ah the wonders of animation), battles Grendel in the nude; Zemeckis utilizes several self-conscious objects (candles, arms and, most appropriately, swords) to keep the film from straying into R-rated territory. And if you’ve ever wanted to see Hopkins nearly lose all his clothes, this is your chance. The film pushes its PG-13 rating in almost every way, and the nudity is just part of it. Blood is spilled everywhere, arms and legs are pulled off and nearly every scene contains some sort of sexual innuendo.
Yet all the daring choices taken with the material do not make up for the faults in the film’s production. The techniques of the animation have certainly improved since THE POLAR EXPRESS; the amount of detail in the settings are particularly astounding. But the characters’ faces are largely immovable. There is still something about these figures, their lifeless eyes, unexpressive faces and too-fluid movements that stick out. In certain cases, they seem like no more than well-rendered video game characters. Zemeckis is also tempted one too many times to get gimmicky; he favors long “takes” moving from one place to another, trying to be as all-encompassing as possible. Sometimes the tactic works, such as when Grendel is introduced. But when nearly every shot is constructed that way, it gets noticeable and irritating.
BEOWULF is an interesting continuation of an interesting experiment, greater than its predecessor but hampered by its noticeable faults. It is at times thrilling and spellbinding, especially when viewed in 3-D, but that is only during the film’s action sequences. During the dramatic scenes, Zemeckis’s gimmicks become all the more apparent and bog the film down. The film is not for everyone, and will probably upset some fans of the source. But those that find the technique used will undoubtedly be intrigued by the film. Entertaining enough for what it is, BEOWULF is still not the technological breakthrough Zemeckis wished for, but it’s a step closer.
**1/2
Taking its episodic nature from the poem, BEOWULF traces the rise and fall of the great hero, breaking up into basically three segments. In the first, aged King Hrothgar (Anthony Hopkins) calls upon the titular hero (Ray Winstone) to vanquish his kingdom from a gruesome, violent demon Grendel (Crispin Glover). Yet once the monster is killed, Beowulf finds himself facing an even greater foe: Grendel’s mother (Angelina Jolie in a role decidedly different from its counterpart in the source). The third and final section of the film takes place years later, when Beowulf is forced to face the mistakes he made in his first two quests.
The first half of the film follows the poem fairly closely and the technology serves to accomplish what live-action films simply could not; a true adaptation of the English language’s densest works. Yet once Grendel’s mother enters the picture, it takes drastic turns. This will likely frustrate fans of the source, yet as this film is being marketed squarely at the young adult male set, its target market will forgive faithfulness in favor of animated Jolie’s naked body. And Jolie isn’t the only character showing some skin. The usually portly Winstone, transformed into a Conan the Barbarian-like muscleman (ah the wonders of animation), battles Grendel in the nude; Zemeckis utilizes several self-conscious objects (candles, arms and, most appropriately, swords) to keep the film from straying into R-rated territory. And if you’ve ever wanted to see Hopkins nearly lose all his clothes, this is your chance. The film pushes its PG-13 rating in almost every way, and the nudity is just part of it. Blood is spilled everywhere, arms and legs are pulled off and nearly every scene contains some sort of sexual innuendo.
Yet all the daring choices taken with the material do not make up for the faults in the film’s production. The techniques of the animation have certainly improved since THE POLAR EXPRESS; the amount of detail in the settings are particularly astounding. But the characters’ faces are largely immovable. There is still something about these figures, their lifeless eyes, unexpressive faces and too-fluid movements that stick out. In certain cases, they seem like no more than well-rendered video game characters. Zemeckis is also tempted one too many times to get gimmicky; he favors long “takes” moving from one place to another, trying to be as all-encompassing as possible. Sometimes the tactic works, such as when Grendel is introduced. But when nearly every shot is constructed that way, it gets noticeable and irritating.
BEOWULF is an interesting continuation of an interesting experiment, greater than its predecessor but hampered by its noticeable faults. It is at times thrilling and spellbinding, especially when viewed in 3-D, but that is only during the film’s action sequences. During the dramatic scenes, Zemeckis’s gimmicks become all the more apparent and bog the film down. The film is not for everyone, and will probably upset some fans of the source. But those that find the technique used will undoubtedly be intrigued by the film. Entertaining enough for what it is, BEOWULF is still not the technological breakthrough Zemeckis wished for, but it’s a step closer.
**1/2
Saturday, November 10, 2007
No Country for Old Men
After only hinting at their trademark darkness in the past few years, the Coen Brothers are back in full-force with NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN, a brilliant tour-de-force of directing and acting. Adapted from the Cormac MCarthy novel, but still retaining all the stylistics and quirks of the directors, they have created perhaps their bleakest film yet; one that creates a thrilling balance between moments of shocking violence and unsettling silence. Featuring career-defining performances from Javier Bardem, Tommy Lee Jones and Josh Brolin, the film is a must-see and nothing less than the best film of the year.
The main story follows Llewellyn Moss (Brolin), a hunter who stumbles upon a stash of drugs and millions of dollars following a deadly shoot-out in the middle of a Texas nowhere. He takes the money but leaves one of the victims alive, who eventually hires a ruthless killer, Anton Chigurh (Bardem) to retrieve the money. All the while, Moss knows he’s being hunted, sending his confused wife (Kelly Macdonald) to her mother’s while a verge-of-retirement sheriff Ed Tom Bell (Jones) tries to pick up the pieces of the crime and save Moss before it is too late. While Moss’s story drives the film, Chigurh and Bell’s stories are nearly as important, and the glimpses into their past are often more intriguing than Moss’s.
This is due mainly in part to the astounding performances, especially from Bardem and Jones. While Brolin puts forth his strongest work in his perhaps not-so-distinguished career, he cannot help but be outshined by the two men whose characters hold much of the intrigue and meaning of the piece. As Chigurh, Bardem is at once terrifying and hilarious. His mannerisms in his interactions with various local folk and his night-stalking of Moss do not change, but once he reveals his weapon (maybe the most chill-inducing prop ever) his dry comic timing becomes serious, silent and horrifying. He is more than just a driven killer; the lengths he drives himself to and the methods he uses to make himself invisible illustrate a deeper psychological purpose that is spoken of only a few times in the film. Jones is equally as impressive; he imbues his character with a weary, melancholy air that also proves hilarious and heart-wrenching. He delivers most of his lines with a dry bent that get most of the film’s laughs, yet when he muses about his own life, the film enters its most meaningful parts. It is from Bell that the title is driven, and it is from Bell it gets its meaning.
While the film is superbly constructed on all levels, the Coen Brothers made their masterpiece a center point of how effective editing and sound design can be. Aside from the suspenseful sequences with Chigurh, the film is a very muted affair; people never raise their voices when speaking to each other and nothing, not the rumbling of outside traffic, not even Carter Burwell’s score seems to intrude on it. This is what makes the suspense sequences all the more effective; no matter how much it may be hinted, the sudden bursts of noise (a lock popping out, a car exploding, etc.) always get a start from the viewer, eventually leading them into a state of tension that they cannot escape from. And when the noise begins, what follows it truly horrifying. Shockingly violent, but in a very real way, these sequences are perhaps the strongest the Coen Brothers have ever created. Of particular note is when Moss and Chigurh actually meet in a decadent Southern hotel. Their shoot-out leads into the street, and every second it goes on, the viewer becomes more and more affected.
The Coen Brothers still retain their sense of humor, contrasting the chilling violence with the studies of small-town American eccentrics they’re known for. Yet they have set out to accomplish something different with this film, and they succeed on all levels. NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN is a harrowing experience, leaving the viewer in a state of shock by its finish. It isn’t gratuitous at all; in fact the most intriguing parts of the film come from what we’re not shown. The film is an experience not to be missed. It is, without a doubt, a crowning achievement for the Coen Brothers.
****
The main story follows Llewellyn Moss (Brolin), a hunter who stumbles upon a stash of drugs and millions of dollars following a deadly shoot-out in the middle of a Texas nowhere. He takes the money but leaves one of the victims alive, who eventually hires a ruthless killer, Anton Chigurh (Bardem) to retrieve the money. All the while, Moss knows he’s being hunted, sending his confused wife (Kelly Macdonald) to her mother’s while a verge-of-retirement sheriff Ed Tom Bell (Jones) tries to pick up the pieces of the crime and save Moss before it is too late. While Moss’s story drives the film, Chigurh and Bell’s stories are nearly as important, and the glimpses into their past are often more intriguing than Moss’s.
This is due mainly in part to the astounding performances, especially from Bardem and Jones. While Brolin puts forth his strongest work in his perhaps not-so-distinguished career, he cannot help but be outshined by the two men whose characters hold much of the intrigue and meaning of the piece. As Chigurh, Bardem is at once terrifying and hilarious. His mannerisms in his interactions with various local folk and his night-stalking of Moss do not change, but once he reveals his weapon (maybe the most chill-inducing prop ever) his dry comic timing becomes serious, silent and horrifying. He is more than just a driven killer; the lengths he drives himself to and the methods he uses to make himself invisible illustrate a deeper psychological purpose that is spoken of only a few times in the film. Jones is equally as impressive; he imbues his character with a weary, melancholy air that also proves hilarious and heart-wrenching. He delivers most of his lines with a dry bent that get most of the film’s laughs, yet when he muses about his own life, the film enters its most meaningful parts. It is from Bell that the title is driven, and it is from Bell it gets its meaning.
While the film is superbly constructed on all levels, the Coen Brothers made their masterpiece a center point of how effective editing and sound design can be. Aside from the suspenseful sequences with Chigurh, the film is a very muted affair; people never raise their voices when speaking to each other and nothing, not the rumbling of outside traffic, not even Carter Burwell’s score seems to intrude on it. This is what makes the suspense sequences all the more effective; no matter how much it may be hinted, the sudden bursts of noise (a lock popping out, a car exploding, etc.) always get a start from the viewer, eventually leading them into a state of tension that they cannot escape from. And when the noise begins, what follows it truly horrifying. Shockingly violent, but in a very real way, these sequences are perhaps the strongest the Coen Brothers have ever created. Of particular note is when Moss and Chigurh actually meet in a decadent Southern hotel. Their shoot-out leads into the street, and every second it goes on, the viewer becomes more and more affected.
The Coen Brothers still retain their sense of humor, contrasting the chilling violence with the studies of small-town American eccentrics they’re known for. Yet they have set out to accomplish something different with this film, and they succeed on all levels. NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN is a harrowing experience, leaving the viewer in a state of shock by its finish. It isn’t gratuitous at all; in fact the most intriguing parts of the film come from what we’re not shown. The film is an experience not to be missed. It is, without a doubt, a crowning achievement for the Coen Brothers.
****
Saturday, November 3, 2007
American Gangster
The success of THE DEPARTED last year likely signaled a resurgence in the popularity of crime thrillers, and its triumph at the Oscars seemed destined to make these films more important than ever. AMERICAN GANGSTER is one of these films; finally arriving on screens after years of developmental hell, it reunites director Ridley Scott with Russell Crowe and once again brings Denzel Washington to the wrong side of the law. With the film, Scott has successfully distanced himself from the critical and financial disappointments A GOOD YEAR and KINGDOM OF HEAVEN, though the film’s bloated excess and self-import hinder it and keep it from being all it could have been.
AMERICAN GANGSTER tells the true story (as it is noted in the opening credits) of Frank Lucas (Washington), the protégé of a New York criminal who rises to the top of the city’s illegal drug ring, defying all previously-existed expectations and becoming more powerful than the Italian mob families. Simultaneously told is the story of Riche Roberts (Crowe), the do-good cop who heads the branch placed in charge of big-time drug raids. These two intersecting stories paint a vivid picture, not only of life in New York City during the Vietnam War, but what exactly makes a decent man and what makes a criminal.
These more psychological studies are concentrated mostly on Lucas. He is, by all outward appearances, a decent man; he takes care of his family, has a loving wife and has worked his way to the top by himself. The only thing that’s keeping him from being a hero is the fact that he smuggles drugs for a living. It also helps that Lucas is played by Washington, one of Hollywood’s most likable stars. The film takes many moments to showcase Lucas’s alteration between family man and ruthless criminal, and Washington certainly delivers in these moments. It’s all a bit ho-hum (the shock of him as a villain seems to have worn off), but solid work nonetheless. Much more compelling, though sadly misused, is Crowe. Roberts is given basically nothing to do for the first half of the film, but Crowe remains a strong presence throughout. Not much time is taken to explore the darker side of his character; he has family problems, but they are dealt with so briefly that they barely register.
The film plods along for the first hour, offering nothing overtly compelling. The film is an entire build-up to the end; the last half-hour of the film is superbly constructed and ranks with the best crime thrillers, but the journey there seems unending and drags until it gradually picks up its feet. And aside from Crowe and Washington, a cast filled with recognizable faces is rarely given the opportunity to shine. An exception to this is Ruby Dee, outstanding and restrained in an unfortunately limited role as Washington’s mother. Most other characters are pushed aside in favor of studying Lucas and Roberts’ personalities and motivations. This sadly leads to prolonged scenes of the two sitting and talking to various partners, which does nothing to help the film’s sluggish pace early on.
As always, Scott constructs the entire piece with precision and mastery. In the action sequences, he seems to rise to another level; the film’s finale is stunningly tense, no matter how clear its outcome may be. Yet there are so few action sequences spread out in its 2.5-hour running time, and though Scott is able and adept at directing straight dramatic scenes, that certain flair he displays is sorely missed. Most of these problems are thanks to Steven Zaillian’s script, which is so serious and far-reaching in its scope that it cannot help but become bloated. A half hour could easily be excised from the film with no major damage.
AMERICAN GANGSTER poses itself to be the next great crime thriller, but by doing that, it believes in its own importance far too much and therefore falls short. There are many moments of greatness contained in it, but too much exposition must be waded through to get to them. Still, a memorable effort from Ridley Scott and compelling performances from Washington, Crowe and Ruby Dee make this film one of the year’s must-sees.
***
AMERICAN GANGSTER tells the true story (as it is noted in the opening credits) of Frank Lucas (Washington), the protégé of a New York criminal who rises to the top of the city’s illegal drug ring, defying all previously-existed expectations and becoming more powerful than the Italian mob families. Simultaneously told is the story of Riche Roberts (Crowe), the do-good cop who heads the branch placed in charge of big-time drug raids. These two intersecting stories paint a vivid picture, not only of life in New York City during the Vietnam War, but what exactly makes a decent man and what makes a criminal.
These more psychological studies are concentrated mostly on Lucas. He is, by all outward appearances, a decent man; he takes care of his family, has a loving wife and has worked his way to the top by himself. The only thing that’s keeping him from being a hero is the fact that he smuggles drugs for a living. It also helps that Lucas is played by Washington, one of Hollywood’s most likable stars. The film takes many moments to showcase Lucas’s alteration between family man and ruthless criminal, and Washington certainly delivers in these moments. It’s all a bit ho-hum (the shock of him as a villain seems to have worn off), but solid work nonetheless. Much more compelling, though sadly misused, is Crowe. Roberts is given basically nothing to do for the first half of the film, but Crowe remains a strong presence throughout. Not much time is taken to explore the darker side of his character; he has family problems, but they are dealt with so briefly that they barely register.
The film plods along for the first hour, offering nothing overtly compelling. The film is an entire build-up to the end; the last half-hour of the film is superbly constructed and ranks with the best crime thrillers, but the journey there seems unending and drags until it gradually picks up its feet. And aside from Crowe and Washington, a cast filled with recognizable faces is rarely given the opportunity to shine. An exception to this is Ruby Dee, outstanding and restrained in an unfortunately limited role as Washington’s mother. Most other characters are pushed aside in favor of studying Lucas and Roberts’ personalities and motivations. This sadly leads to prolonged scenes of the two sitting and talking to various partners, which does nothing to help the film’s sluggish pace early on.
As always, Scott constructs the entire piece with precision and mastery. In the action sequences, he seems to rise to another level; the film’s finale is stunningly tense, no matter how clear its outcome may be. Yet there are so few action sequences spread out in its 2.5-hour running time, and though Scott is able and adept at directing straight dramatic scenes, that certain flair he displays is sorely missed. Most of these problems are thanks to Steven Zaillian’s script, which is so serious and far-reaching in its scope that it cannot help but become bloated. A half hour could easily be excised from the film with no major damage.
AMERICAN GANGSTER poses itself to be the next great crime thriller, but by doing that, it believes in its own importance far too much and therefore falls short. There are many moments of greatness contained in it, but too much exposition must be waded through to get to them. Still, a memorable effort from Ridley Scott and compelling performances from Washington, Crowe and Ruby Dee make this film one of the year’s must-sees.
***
Friday, October 26, 2007
Dan in Real Life
A comedic actor traveling into more dramatic territory is often a risky thing. For some, it turns out great (Tom Hanks in PHILADELPHIA, Jim Carrey in THE TRUMAN SHOW, etc.) but for others, it merely exposes their rather bland acting abilities (Will Ferrell in STRANGER THAN FICTION, Adam Sandler in SPANGLISH/REIGN OVER ME, etc.). Luckily for Steve Carrell, his latest foray into the world of dramedy, DAN IN REAL LIFE, is a complete triumph. The film itself is a bit of a mash-up; plot points and scenarios that are almost too-familiar strung together to make a by-the-books family comedy. Yet from the strength of Carrell’s performance, and the amiability of the whole cast, DAN IN REAL LIFE comes off better than it actually should.
Dan Burns (Carrell) is parental advice columnist whose writings seem to influence everyone’s life but his own. A widower with three daughters, Dan is a pitch-perfect example of a nervous father; forbidding his daughters from taking any chances (whether it be letting his oldest girl try driving or his middle daughter try dating) for fear of rather irrational dangers. He drags them along on a yearly family reunion, where they are bombarded by the enormous, nosy and cloying network of aunts and uncles, including Dianne Wiest and John Mahoney as the parents. On a routine book to the ol’ Book and Tackle Shop, Dan meets up with Marie (a radiant Juliette Binoche) a down-to-earth beauty. They instantly connect. Yet their relationship instantly becomes strained when Dan realizes that Marie is dating his brother Mitch (a surprisingly effective Dane Cook). As Dan’s feelings for Marie develop, his carefully planned way of life/parenting begins to crumble.
The plot is a bit ho-hum, and some of the comedic moments are far too familiar. Dan’s repeated run-ins with the same police officer fall flat, and the script subscribes to the belief that there’s nothing funnier than a middle-aged man trying to exercise or dance. Director and co-writer Peter Hedges (2003’s PIECES OF APRIL) constructs these scenes well, despite their clichéd nature. Laughter is obtained, yet it remains muted throughout. The film becomes stronger when it sets aside comic conventions and aims for honesty. These moments are incredibly effective and balance the tired shticks it wrings out to get laughs.
The main reason for the effectiveness of the dramatic scenes is the honest, likable cast that remains fully committed to the material. Carrell’s finest moments come from his subtler actions; many times, Dan seems so tightly wound that he’s an inch away from a complete breakdown. And while Dan is given the awkward romantic bent in many scenes, the more meaningful scenes become the film’s most affecting, heart wrenching moments. When Dan begins to express his true feelings through song (as one must do in a family dramedy) the self-consciousness and quietness Carrell brings to the scene lifts the entire sequence onto a level of unspeakable honesty. As Marie, Binoche contributes another compelling performance, excelling in both comedic and dramatic sequences. Binoche and Carrell certainly do make an unlikely pair, but by the film’s end, everyone in the audience will be convinced they were born for each other.
Without the film’s performances, DAN IN REAL LIFE would nowhere be the accomplishment it is. Yet Peter Hedges directs his leads to two of the best performances of the year, and the material is ably supported by the rest of the cast. The film is far from original, its borrowed conventions becoming painfully obvious at times. Despite this, it remains charming and carries its viewers through the entire experience. Not perfect by any means, but in a time where the market is saturated with Halloween horror movies and utterly serious awards contenders, it’s a welcome change to see a smaller film that speaks truthfully about the commitments of having a family while throwing some laughs in for good measure.
***1/2
Dan Burns (Carrell) is parental advice columnist whose writings seem to influence everyone’s life but his own. A widower with three daughters, Dan is a pitch-perfect example of a nervous father; forbidding his daughters from taking any chances (whether it be letting his oldest girl try driving or his middle daughter try dating) for fear of rather irrational dangers. He drags them along on a yearly family reunion, where they are bombarded by the enormous, nosy and cloying network of aunts and uncles, including Dianne Wiest and John Mahoney as the parents. On a routine book to the ol’ Book and Tackle Shop, Dan meets up with Marie (a radiant Juliette Binoche) a down-to-earth beauty. They instantly connect. Yet their relationship instantly becomes strained when Dan realizes that Marie is dating his brother Mitch (a surprisingly effective Dane Cook). As Dan’s feelings for Marie develop, his carefully planned way of life/parenting begins to crumble.
The plot is a bit ho-hum, and some of the comedic moments are far too familiar. Dan’s repeated run-ins with the same police officer fall flat, and the script subscribes to the belief that there’s nothing funnier than a middle-aged man trying to exercise or dance. Director and co-writer Peter Hedges (2003’s PIECES OF APRIL) constructs these scenes well, despite their clichéd nature. Laughter is obtained, yet it remains muted throughout. The film becomes stronger when it sets aside comic conventions and aims for honesty. These moments are incredibly effective and balance the tired shticks it wrings out to get laughs.
The main reason for the effectiveness of the dramatic scenes is the honest, likable cast that remains fully committed to the material. Carrell’s finest moments come from his subtler actions; many times, Dan seems so tightly wound that he’s an inch away from a complete breakdown. And while Dan is given the awkward romantic bent in many scenes, the more meaningful scenes become the film’s most affecting, heart wrenching moments. When Dan begins to express his true feelings through song (as one must do in a family dramedy) the self-consciousness and quietness Carrell brings to the scene lifts the entire sequence onto a level of unspeakable honesty. As Marie, Binoche contributes another compelling performance, excelling in both comedic and dramatic sequences. Binoche and Carrell certainly do make an unlikely pair, but by the film’s end, everyone in the audience will be convinced they were born for each other.
Without the film’s performances, DAN IN REAL LIFE would nowhere be the accomplishment it is. Yet Peter Hedges directs his leads to two of the best performances of the year, and the material is ably supported by the rest of the cast. The film is far from original, its borrowed conventions becoming painfully obvious at times. Despite this, it remains charming and carries its viewers through the entire experience. Not perfect by any means, but in a time where the market is saturated with Halloween horror movies and utterly serious awards contenders, it’s a welcome change to see a smaller film that speaks truthfully about the commitments of having a family while throwing some laughs in for good measure.
***1/2
Friday, October 19, 2007
30 Days of Night
In its ever-present advertising over the past few weeks, 30 DAYS OF NIGHT promised a terrifying new vision of the vampire. But what detracts from the norm is not always new, nor is a vampire always terrifying. Both appear to be the case in this film, which does make an attempt to depart from films similar to it. Unfortunately, the most intriguing (perhaps terrifying) aspects of the story are left unexplored, leaving the audience with nothing but a few mildly effective jump scares sandwiched between long chunks of uninteresting character and plot development.
The action is set in the northernmost point of the United States: a small, isolated town in Alaska that is plunged into 30 days of night every year, due to the angle and rotation of the Earth. The last day of sunlight proves an unusual one for the town’s sheriff (Josh Hartnett); a pile of cell phones has been gathered and burned on the edge of town, a resident’s dogs have been ruthlessly slaughtered, and a mysterious and unsettling stranger (Ben Foster) appears in town, telling of a great evil that is to come. When the night finally falls on the town, the evil unleashes itself. A group of violent, unforgiving and gruesome vampires descend on the town, attacking anyone and everyone in sight. The town is slowly whittled down to a small group of survivors, including the sheriff’s estranged wife (Melissa George), who must fight to survive until the sun rises.
These vampires are indeed different from the usual breed; there are no flowing capes, no intense vampiric stares. These creatures are more animalistic predators than anything else. However, the film uses these animal-like behaviors as the main crutch of its suspense sequences, making nearly every potential scare a jump scare that is completely expected. Only in the typical and clichéd finale does the film try a different kind of suspense, but the viewer has long since lost interest. Instead, most of the action is devoted to the small group of survivors moving from hiding place to hiding place, asking “how can this happen?” and “why are they doing this?” while keeping each other from running away. Of course, this kind of talk is obligatory in a horror film, but there’s simply too much of it here.
There are a few strengths, however. The film is ably acted by its leads, with Hartnett, George and Danny Huston (unrecognizable as the head vampire) delivering solid performances with precious little to work with. However, Ben Foster as the comic relief (or so I assume, since his performance elicited so much laughter from the audience) gives the exact same performance he gave earlier this year in 3:10 TO YUMA. Pretty much the same accent as well, curiously enough. Director David Slade (2005’s HARD CANDY) imbues the film with a sophisticated visual style, much more defined than the average horror film. If only the film’s level of terror matched the director’s eye, we would have a film worthy of its story. As it is, the five minute sequences of quick cuts and gore aren’t nearly thrilling or shocking enough to balance out the ten minutes of banal exposition surrounding them. It takes an interesting premise and only begins to scratch the surface of its possibilities. Still, it’s October, so it will doubtless provide a momentary diversion for thrill seekers. And by the looks of it, that’s all the filmmakers were really aiming for.
*
The action is set in the northernmost point of the United States: a small, isolated town in Alaska that is plunged into 30 days of night every year, due to the angle and rotation of the Earth. The last day of sunlight proves an unusual one for the town’s sheriff (Josh Hartnett); a pile of cell phones has been gathered and burned on the edge of town, a resident’s dogs have been ruthlessly slaughtered, and a mysterious and unsettling stranger (Ben Foster) appears in town, telling of a great evil that is to come. When the night finally falls on the town, the evil unleashes itself. A group of violent, unforgiving and gruesome vampires descend on the town, attacking anyone and everyone in sight. The town is slowly whittled down to a small group of survivors, including the sheriff’s estranged wife (Melissa George), who must fight to survive until the sun rises.
These vampires are indeed different from the usual breed; there are no flowing capes, no intense vampiric stares. These creatures are more animalistic predators than anything else. However, the film uses these animal-like behaviors as the main crutch of its suspense sequences, making nearly every potential scare a jump scare that is completely expected. Only in the typical and clichéd finale does the film try a different kind of suspense, but the viewer has long since lost interest. Instead, most of the action is devoted to the small group of survivors moving from hiding place to hiding place, asking “how can this happen?” and “why are they doing this?” while keeping each other from running away. Of course, this kind of talk is obligatory in a horror film, but there’s simply too much of it here.
There are a few strengths, however. The film is ably acted by its leads, with Hartnett, George and Danny Huston (unrecognizable as the head vampire) delivering solid performances with precious little to work with. However, Ben Foster as the comic relief (or so I assume, since his performance elicited so much laughter from the audience) gives the exact same performance he gave earlier this year in 3:10 TO YUMA. Pretty much the same accent as well, curiously enough. Director David Slade (2005’s HARD CANDY) imbues the film with a sophisticated visual style, much more defined than the average horror film. If only the film’s level of terror matched the director’s eye, we would have a film worthy of its story. As it is, the five minute sequences of quick cuts and gore aren’t nearly thrilling or shocking enough to balance out the ten minutes of banal exposition surrounding them. It takes an interesting premise and only begins to scratch the surface of its possibilities. Still, it’s October, so it will doubtless provide a momentary diversion for thrill seekers. And by the looks of it, that’s all the filmmakers were really aiming for.
*
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Michael Clayton
Acclaimed screenwriter Tony Gilroy (whose credits include the recent BOURNE films) makes his directorial debut with MICHAEL CLAYTON, a legal drama that recalls the feel of 1970s paranoid thrillers to craft its story of a lawyer with questionable morals thrust into the dangerous world of big business’s most secret dealings. With an admirable turn by George Clooney, supported with a solid script and uniformly excellent performances from the supporting cast, MICHAEL CLAYTON serves as a stylish and assured debut from one of Hollywood’s smartest voices.
Michael Clayton (a shagged-up Clooney) is known as a “fixer” at his law firm; he comes in quietly and solves problems as quickly as possible, regardless of the legality of his actions. Yet when one of his coworkers, Arthur Edens (Tom Wilkinson), embroiled in a six year long lawsuit as a major corporation’s defender, strips down during an interrogation and runs through a parking lot, Michael realizes there may be more than the man’s own mental instability. Before he knows it, Michael finds himself acting against a dangerous and deadly cover-up lead by the company.
The plot seems unusual for a legal thriller, and the film certainly is. Instead of focusing on the cover-up, Gilroy is more concerned with the characters: the line Michael crosses between helping a friend and doing his job and the question of mental instability when Arthur’s mad ramblings begin to show merit. The actual legal battle between the corporation and the affected citizens is only briefly touched on. The rather narrow scope of the film gives it an isolated effect, a kind of “anywhere anytime” feel; it does not pin itself to one situation completely. This is where Gilroy plays into the paranoia aspect directly; the events of this film could happen to anyone in any situation.
Yet the script has a tendency to overemphasize several themes. Most lines that take longer than ten seconds to deliver are morphed into long speeches filled with quick-paced wordplay and lots and lots of underlying meaning. The character of Michael’s son seems there only to ramble on about a book that seems to connect to everyone else’s life in some way or another. And in an effort to inject some suspense and confusion in the viewer, the prologue takes place four days into the film’s plot. While it does successfully create a sense of disorientation (as in the best paranoia thrillers), the sequence becomes rather tedious and ineffective when the film returns to it.
But the film is bolstered by strong performances all around. As the titular character, Clooney strips himself of the easygoing charm so obviously detectable in most of his roles thus far. Here, he is driven and determined, relying on his tenacity and quick-thinking rather than his ability to win people over. Tilda Swinton is equally intriguing as the spokeswoman of the corporation, though she is sadly underused. The biggest impression, and the showiest performance, is given by Wilkinson, whose raving antics (“I am Sheba the god of death!”) have been a staple of the film’s promotion. For most of the film, interest is driven purely by Wilkinson, wondering if his nearly-incoherent ramblings mean anything. Though the film is anchored ably by Clooney’s solid work, one almost wishes Wilkinson were the focus.
Gilroy films in a very sparse, cold and sleek style. Each of the characters seem isolated, often the lone figures in long takes. The muted color scheme and dim lighting also heighten the subdued, quiet nature of the film. While nothing revolutionary, the film’s look serves its purpose and supports the script and the performances, which are the heart of the piece. Gilroy is still much more of a writer than a director, but that doesn’t keep MICHAEL CLAYTON from being one of the most intelligent, involving thrillers this year. It will not grip audiences with constant tension or half-hour long chase sequences; it prefers to get under your skin and unsettle you from there. And in the end, it is the latter that is much more effective.
***
Michael Clayton (a shagged-up Clooney) is known as a “fixer” at his law firm; he comes in quietly and solves problems as quickly as possible, regardless of the legality of his actions. Yet when one of his coworkers, Arthur Edens (Tom Wilkinson), embroiled in a six year long lawsuit as a major corporation’s defender, strips down during an interrogation and runs through a parking lot, Michael realizes there may be more than the man’s own mental instability. Before he knows it, Michael finds himself acting against a dangerous and deadly cover-up lead by the company.
The plot seems unusual for a legal thriller, and the film certainly is. Instead of focusing on the cover-up, Gilroy is more concerned with the characters: the line Michael crosses between helping a friend and doing his job and the question of mental instability when Arthur’s mad ramblings begin to show merit. The actual legal battle between the corporation and the affected citizens is only briefly touched on. The rather narrow scope of the film gives it an isolated effect, a kind of “anywhere anytime” feel; it does not pin itself to one situation completely. This is where Gilroy plays into the paranoia aspect directly; the events of this film could happen to anyone in any situation.
Yet the script has a tendency to overemphasize several themes. Most lines that take longer than ten seconds to deliver are morphed into long speeches filled with quick-paced wordplay and lots and lots of underlying meaning. The character of Michael’s son seems there only to ramble on about a book that seems to connect to everyone else’s life in some way or another. And in an effort to inject some suspense and confusion in the viewer, the prologue takes place four days into the film’s plot. While it does successfully create a sense of disorientation (as in the best paranoia thrillers), the sequence becomes rather tedious and ineffective when the film returns to it.
But the film is bolstered by strong performances all around. As the titular character, Clooney strips himself of the easygoing charm so obviously detectable in most of his roles thus far. Here, he is driven and determined, relying on his tenacity and quick-thinking rather than his ability to win people over. Tilda Swinton is equally intriguing as the spokeswoman of the corporation, though she is sadly underused. The biggest impression, and the showiest performance, is given by Wilkinson, whose raving antics (“I am Sheba the god of death!”) have been a staple of the film’s promotion. For most of the film, interest is driven purely by Wilkinson, wondering if his nearly-incoherent ramblings mean anything. Though the film is anchored ably by Clooney’s solid work, one almost wishes Wilkinson were the focus.
Gilroy films in a very sparse, cold and sleek style. Each of the characters seem isolated, often the lone figures in long takes. The muted color scheme and dim lighting also heighten the subdued, quiet nature of the film. While nothing revolutionary, the film’s look serves its purpose and supports the script and the performances, which are the heart of the piece. Gilroy is still much more of a writer than a director, but that doesn’t keep MICHAEL CLAYTON from being one of the most intelligent, involving thrillers this year. It will not grip audiences with constant tension or half-hour long chase sequences; it prefers to get under your skin and unsettle you from there. And in the end, it is the latter that is much more effective.
***
Friday, October 12, 2007
Elizabeth: The Golden Age
Elizabeth I’s recent wave of filmic popularity continues with director Shekhar Kapur’s ELIZABETH: THE GOLDEN AGE, his follow-up to the Oscar-nomined 1998 film ELIZABETH. He has assembled a mini-reunion of names and faces seen in the original film, including stars Cate Blanchett and Geoffrey Rush and screenwriter Michael Hirst, among others. While the first film focused on the early years of Elizabeth’s reign, playing fast and free with facts and ultimately producing an engaging and passionate film, this sequel focuses on the Gloriana days during the middle of Elizabeth’s reign, a territory studied twice in the past two years (both for British television). As a result, not only does the action seem all-too familiar this time around, the film does not succeed in creating an overarching theme that forgives the dramatic license taken.
As the film opens, Spain is mounting an attack against the protestant queen, enlisting not only the help of a devoted Catholic sect in London, but of Mary, Queen of Scots herself (the film does end up portraying her in a rather villainous light). All the while, England’s stalwart queen (Blanchett) still finds herself dealing with courtiers and would-be husbands from across Europe. She is disinterested until her passions are roused by the adventurous Sir Walter Raleigh (Clive Owen), who unfortunately also has eyes for Elizabeth’s favorite maid, Bess (Abbie Cornish). As pressure from Spain builds up and the queen’s opposition begins to show itself, Elizabeth must prove once again why God put her in her place.
As in ELIZABETH, the film rests entirely upon Blanchett’s shoulders. While she does have many strong moments throughout, she does not capture attention in the role as easily. She still remains a pillar of strength, her booming voice and cool complexion making her a natural born leader in every sense. Yet in the first half, the film seems to play almost as a comedy, and Blanchett reflects that. Instead of awe-inspiring tenacity, she imbues the character with a been-there, done-that sense of sarcasm reminiscent of Bette Davis in ALL ABOUT EVE. Once the action sets along its main course (the inevitable war with Spain), Blanchett strikes with all the bottled-in rage that the audience has been longing for. Her impassioned speeches, most notably to the Spanish ambassador and, later, to the English troops, are masterpieces of control and emotion. And as the film goes on, she begins to show signs of the panicked jealousy and fear that would mark Elizabeth’s later years, giving the fearless leader a more sympathetic slant sorely missed in the first half.
The film is sumptuously constructed, with every element seemingly one degree away from being over the top. That is, except the score, which is pervasive, loud and (at times) highly inappropriate. But the sheer epic scope as illustrated by the towering sets and intricate costumes make the film a visual feast. There are many beautiful images to behold, but even they veer dangerously toward the clichéd and over the top; a candle blowing out signifying defeat, a horse leaping over the side of a ship, etc. The script’s emphasis on wind is rather irritating as well. Not only does there seem to be a constant dramatic breeze blowing through drapes and curtains, but the characters make far too many references to the oncoming storm, the hurricane that is to come, the clouds that are gathering overhead, blah blah blah. The fact that there IS actually a storm when the English and Spanish collide makes these statements even more grating.
The film most errs in its depictions of the villains, which are so cartoonish and obvious that a two-year-old would be able to identify them. The Spanish are all of the moustache-twirling, darting eyes type, with Philip doing nothing more than delivering typically creepy sounding speeches of foreboding… well, creepiness. Even Samantha Morton’s minutes-long performance as Mary falls under into the clichéd villains club; the type that remains quietly evil and blindly aligned with their cause. It’s a wonder that the assassins in this film actually got so close to Elizabeth; they may as well be walking around with signs on their heads.
This film is a far cry from its predecessor, both in terms of storytelling and style. Where the first film was passionate and unexpected, this film plays it by the books, seeking out visual grandeur in place of meaningful scenes. Blanchett still gives it her all, and still remains impressive, but everything else seems half-baked, much like Elizabeth’s relationship with Raleigh. ELIZABETH: THE GOLDEN AGE is a sure sign that enough has been said about Elizabeth I in the world of film. It’s high time we moved on to the next fascinating monarch.
*1/2
As the film opens, Spain is mounting an attack against the protestant queen, enlisting not only the help of a devoted Catholic sect in London, but of Mary, Queen of Scots herself (the film does end up portraying her in a rather villainous light). All the while, England’s stalwart queen (Blanchett) still finds herself dealing with courtiers and would-be husbands from across Europe. She is disinterested until her passions are roused by the adventurous Sir Walter Raleigh (Clive Owen), who unfortunately also has eyes for Elizabeth’s favorite maid, Bess (Abbie Cornish). As pressure from Spain builds up and the queen’s opposition begins to show itself, Elizabeth must prove once again why God put her in her place.
As in ELIZABETH, the film rests entirely upon Blanchett’s shoulders. While she does have many strong moments throughout, she does not capture attention in the role as easily. She still remains a pillar of strength, her booming voice and cool complexion making her a natural born leader in every sense. Yet in the first half, the film seems to play almost as a comedy, and Blanchett reflects that. Instead of awe-inspiring tenacity, she imbues the character with a been-there, done-that sense of sarcasm reminiscent of Bette Davis in ALL ABOUT EVE. Once the action sets along its main course (the inevitable war with Spain), Blanchett strikes with all the bottled-in rage that the audience has been longing for. Her impassioned speeches, most notably to the Spanish ambassador and, later, to the English troops, are masterpieces of control and emotion. And as the film goes on, she begins to show signs of the panicked jealousy and fear that would mark Elizabeth’s later years, giving the fearless leader a more sympathetic slant sorely missed in the first half.
The film is sumptuously constructed, with every element seemingly one degree away from being over the top. That is, except the score, which is pervasive, loud and (at times) highly inappropriate. But the sheer epic scope as illustrated by the towering sets and intricate costumes make the film a visual feast. There are many beautiful images to behold, but even they veer dangerously toward the clichéd and over the top; a candle blowing out signifying defeat, a horse leaping over the side of a ship, etc. The script’s emphasis on wind is rather irritating as well. Not only does there seem to be a constant dramatic breeze blowing through drapes and curtains, but the characters make far too many references to the oncoming storm, the hurricane that is to come, the clouds that are gathering overhead, blah blah blah. The fact that there IS actually a storm when the English and Spanish collide makes these statements even more grating.
The film most errs in its depictions of the villains, which are so cartoonish and obvious that a two-year-old would be able to identify them. The Spanish are all of the moustache-twirling, darting eyes type, with Philip doing nothing more than delivering typically creepy sounding speeches of foreboding… well, creepiness. Even Samantha Morton’s minutes-long performance as Mary falls under into the clichéd villains club; the type that remains quietly evil and blindly aligned with their cause. It’s a wonder that the assassins in this film actually got so close to Elizabeth; they may as well be walking around with signs on their heads.
This film is a far cry from its predecessor, both in terms of storytelling and style. Where the first film was passionate and unexpected, this film plays it by the books, seeking out visual grandeur in place of meaningful scenes. Blanchett still gives it her all, and still remains impressive, but everything else seems half-baked, much like Elizabeth’s relationship with Raleigh. ELIZABETH: THE GOLDEN AGE is a sure sign that enough has been said about Elizabeth I in the world of film. It’s high time we moved on to the next fascinating monarch.
*1/2
Friday, October 5, 2007
Lust, Caution
Ang Lee’s newest film, an erotically-charged espionage thriller with more than a few deliberate shades of Hitchcock is definitely not for the casual moviegoer. Not only will its occasionally meandering 2 ½-hour plus running time try the patience of the less easily engrossed, but the intensely graphic sex scenes (the film is rated NC-17, almost exclusively for that reason) will no doubt shock and offend many viewers. But to those that are swept away by the alluring visuals and suspenseful story, LUST, CAUTION will be a rich, wonderfully evocative experience.
The place is Japanese-occupied China in the midst of World War II. Wang Jiazhi (Wei Tang, making an impressive film debut) is a young college student who finds herself swept up in a resistance-centered drama troupe. When the leader of the troupe decides that merely staging theatrical protests is not enough, they turn to assassination. They disguise themselves in order to infiltrate the house of a political figure (Tony Leung) with known ties to the Japanese government. He begins to focus his attention on Wang, and the others soon realize the only way to get to him; he must be seduced.
But the plan, as always, is not simple; a fact represented well by the film’s length. The narrative stretches over several years, using the tried-and-true method of bookends to introduce the story. The problem, though, is that with the jumps back and forward in time, the chronological sequence of events becomes muddied for an extended period. And while the film is nail-bitingly suspenseful in parts, the effectiveness is subdued by the long stretches of straight dramatic scenes. The film does well with fleshing out its characters (as it should in a film this long), but it has too many near-climaxes for its own good; with each apparent finale dashed away, its energy sags just a bit. But this does not wither away the film too badly; by the film’s end, the engaged viewer is still completely engaged.
Yet the one aspect that will turn away the most viewers is the film’s graphic depictions of sex. Lee does not shy away from the act itself or the frightening, uncomfortable and disturbing emotions connected with it. The film’s thematic content is helped a great deal by the frankness of these scenes; a sequence where Wei and Leung’s bodies are literally meshed together visually illustrates the heroine’s mind far better than words ever could. This is one of the many Hitchcockian traits Lee uses to great effect; there is a distinct reliance on visuals over dialogue throughout, letting the actors’ eyes speak volumes more than their mouths.
As always with Lee’s films, the film is superbly constructed. All the technicals, from the lush production and costume design to the subdued cinematography brings wartime China vividly to life. Alexandre Desplat’s evocative score injects a sense of tragic romance in the film, shaping it into a thing of beauty reminiscent of VERTIGO. Lee gives great detail to the surrounding environment, making even the smallest of images, like lipstick on the edge of a cup, noticeable and meaningful.
LUST, CAUTION is not a film for someone who basically wants to stop thinking for two hours and watch a movie. Those who are up to the challenge will feel more than justly rewarded by what they see. It is a long, roller coaster-like journey, but a very effecting one. Those who watch it will understand that they’ve seen something very different; a film that takes severe risks and deftly pulls them off. Lee once again shows he is a modern master of the cinema, able to adapt to any genre and produce a work of art.
***
The place is Japanese-occupied China in the midst of World War II. Wang Jiazhi (Wei Tang, making an impressive film debut) is a young college student who finds herself swept up in a resistance-centered drama troupe. When the leader of the troupe decides that merely staging theatrical protests is not enough, they turn to assassination. They disguise themselves in order to infiltrate the house of a political figure (Tony Leung) with known ties to the Japanese government. He begins to focus his attention on Wang, and the others soon realize the only way to get to him; he must be seduced.
But the plan, as always, is not simple; a fact represented well by the film’s length. The narrative stretches over several years, using the tried-and-true method of bookends to introduce the story. The problem, though, is that with the jumps back and forward in time, the chronological sequence of events becomes muddied for an extended period. And while the film is nail-bitingly suspenseful in parts, the effectiveness is subdued by the long stretches of straight dramatic scenes. The film does well with fleshing out its characters (as it should in a film this long), but it has too many near-climaxes for its own good; with each apparent finale dashed away, its energy sags just a bit. But this does not wither away the film too badly; by the film’s end, the engaged viewer is still completely engaged.
Yet the one aspect that will turn away the most viewers is the film’s graphic depictions of sex. Lee does not shy away from the act itself or the frightening, uncomfortable and disturbing emotions connected with it. The film’s thematic content is helped a great deal by the frankness of these scenes; a sequence where Wei and Leung’s bodies are literally meshed together visually illustrates the heroine’s mind far better than words ever could. This is one of the many Hitchcockian traits Lee uses to great effect; there is a distinct reliance on visuals over dialogue throughout, letting the actors’ eyes speak volumes more than their mouths.
As always with Lee’s films, the film is superbly constructed. All the technicals, from the lush production and costume design to the subdued cinematography brings wartime China vividly to life. Alexandre Desplat’s evocative score injects a sense of tragic romance in the film, shaping it into a thing of beauty reminiscent of VERTIGO. Lee gives great detail to the surrounding environment, making even the smallest of images, like lipstick on the edge of a cup, noticeable and meaningful.
LUST, CAUTION is not a film for someone who basically wants to stop thinking for two hours and watch a movie. Those who are up to the challenge will feel more than justly rewarded by what they see. It is a long, roller coaster-like journey, but a very effecting one. Those who watch it will understand that they’ve seen something very different; a film that takes severe risks and deftly pulls them off. Lee once again shows he is a modern master of the cinema, able to adapt to any genre and produce a work of art.
***
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Across the Universe
No doubt with becoming a mind to being this generation’s TOMMY or THE WALL, Julie Taymor’s Beatles extravaganza ACROSS THE UNIVERSE is probably one of the most unique films you’ll see all year. Unique in that it indeed hearkens back to the trippy musical fests of the late 60s and 70s, yet it somehow doesn’t prove to be a method for success. Despite all its visual pleasure (and it is there in spades), the film feels disjointed, a mash-up that attempts to cram in as many Beatles songs and references that they can while sacrificing a cohesive plot.
The bare-bones story follows Jude (Jim Sturgess), a lad from Liverpool making the leap across the pond. Once he does, he strikes up a friendship with a local frat boy and, subsequently, a romance with his younger sister Lucy (Evan Rachel Wood). The story is the basic boy-meets-girl line with a whole lot of historical subplots and archetypal supporting characters thrown in. Chief among them is the boy’s land lady, a Janis Joplin-esque rock star with an addiction to brooze (strangely enough); a Jimi Hendrix-esque guitar player brought to New York after the Detroit riots; a sexually confused cheerleader from Smalltown, USA. And let’s not forget the Vietnam War, which does more than loom in the background as the film progresses.
There are so many subplots and historical snapshots in the first hour of the film that it doesn’t seem to have a narrative whatsoever. Often times the film would come to a complete halt, all so the makers can find an excuse to stick in “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” or “Let it Be.” Some may see this as an attempt to give the film’s message (which is “all you need is love” of course) a wide-reaching angle, but as the film focuses more tightly in its second half, several earlier sequences seem like vignettes, and unnecessary ones at that. The only purpose several numbers serve in the beginning of the film is merely to be there; they do nothing to advance the story and nothing would be lost with their absence.
And, as is often the case with musicals, it tends to break up into sequences that either succeed or fall flat. Disappointingly, it isn’t until later in the film that its more straightforward numbers begin to have true meaning or effect. They’re all sung ably by the cast (no, they’re not the Beatles, but was anyone expecting them to be?), but there are several flaws in the performances. Nearly all the performers come off as likable, but not many manage to make lasting impressions beyond their singing abilities. As Jude, and therefore the eyes the viewer looks through, Sturgess is nothing more than a blander version of Ewan McGregor. Wood fits well into the wholesome, pretty-girl type, yet it isn’t until her beautifully rendered “Blackbird” late in the film that we sense any deep emotion.
It isn’t until midway through the film that the real fireworks begin and Taymor delivers on what she promises. Once the filmmakers finally decide to focus on Lucy and Jude rather than the characters around them, the film often becomes thrilling. “Because”, “Strawberry Fields” the few moments of Dana Fuch’s exhilarating rendition of “Helter Skelter” we’re given, and “Happiness is a Warm Gun” show Taymor at her most effectively visual; a kind of wonderfully bizarre showmanship that is impossible to resist. “Warm Gun” in particular contains the best sequences in the entire film. And “Something”, along with the before-mentioned “Blackbird”, injects the kind of feeling the film has been attempting for 90 minutes beforehand. Yet even in the banal, episodic numbers early in the film, Bruno Delbonnel’s enriched, bright and almost luxurious photography provide plenty of beautiful pictures to distract us from the meandering plot.
In the end, ACROSS THE UNIVERSE is neither a triumph nor a failure. A few months ago, the internet was buzzing with news of a rife between Taymor and producer Joe Roth; she wanted a 130-minute running time, he wanted a 100-minute. Well, it appears Taymor won, but some cuts definitely would have been justified. True, there would have been some classic songs sacrificed, but when they add nothing cohesively to the film, what good do they do? Still, an overlong, unfocused and disjointed beginning doesn’t keep ACROSS THE UNIVERSE from being any less of an experience. It’s still delightfully trippy in parts and occasionally heartfelt. Regardless of the end product, it’s unlike anything you’ll see all year.
**
The bare-bones story follows Jude (Jim Sturgess), a lad from Liverpool making the leap across the pond. Once he does, he strikes up a friendship with a local frat boy and, subsequently, a romance with his younger sister Lucy (Evan Rachel Wood). The story is the basic boy-meets-girl line with a whole lot of historical subplots and archetypal supporting characters thrown in. Chief among them is the boy’s land lady, a Janis Joplin-esque rock star with an addiction to brooze (strangely enough); a Jimi Hendrix-esque guitar player brought to New York after the Detroit riots; a sexually confused cheerleader from Smalltown, USA. And let’s not forget the Vietnam War, which does more than loom in the background as the film progresses.
There are so many subplots and historical snapshots in the first hour of the film that it doesn’t seem to have a narrative whatsoever. Often times the film would come to a complete halt, all so the makers can find an excuse to stick in “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” or “Let it Be.” Some may see this as an attempt to give the film’s message (which is “all you need is love” of course) a wide-reaching angle, but as the film focuses more tightly in its second half, several earlier sequences seem like vignettes, and unnecessary ones at that. The only purpose several numbers serve in the beginning of the film is merely to be there; they do nothing to advance the story and nothing would be lost with their absence.
And, as is often the case with musicals, it tends to break up into sequences that either succeed or fall flat. Disappointingly, it isn’t until later in the film that its more straightforward numbers begin to have true meaning or effect. They’re all sung ably by the cast (no, they’re not the Beatles, but was anyone expecting them to be?), but there are several flaws in the performances. Nearly all the performers come off as likable, but not many manage to make lasting impressions beyond their singing abilities. As Jude, and therefore the eyes the viewer looks through, Sturgess is nothing more than a blander version of Ewan McGregor. Wood fits well into the wholesome, pretty-girl type, yet it isn’t until her beautifully rendered “Blackbird” late in the film that we sense any deep emotion.
It isn’t until midway through the film that the real fireworks begin and Taymor delivers on what she promises. Once the filmmakers finally decide to focus on Lucy and Jude rather than the characters around them, the film often becomes thrilling. “Because”, “Strawberry Fields” the few moments of Dana Fuch’s exhilarating rendition of “Helter Skelter” we’re given, and “Happiness is a Warm Gun” show Taymor at her most effectively visual; a kind of wonderfully bizarre showmanship that is impossible to resist. “Warm Gun” in particular contains the best sequences in the entire film. And “Something”, along with the before-mentioned “Blackbird”, injects the kind of feeling the film has been attempting for 90 minutes beforehand. Yet even in the banal, episodic numbers early in the film, Bruno Delbonnel’s enriched, bright and almost luxurious photography provide plenty of beautiful pictures to distract us from the meandering plot.
In the end, ACROSS THE UNIVERSE is neither a triumph nor a failure. A few months ago, the internet was buzzing with news of a rife between Taymor and producer Joe Roth; she wanted a 130-minute running time, he wanted a 100-minute. Well, it appears Taymor won, but some cuts definitely would have been justified. True, there would have been some classic songs sacrificed, but when they add nothing cohesively to the film, what good do they do? Still, an overlong, unfocused and disjointed beginning doesn’t keep ACROSS THE UNIVERSE from being any less of an experience. It’s still delightfully trippy in parts and occasionally heartfelt. Regardless of the end product, it’s unlike anything you’ll see all year.
**
Friday, September 21, 2007
Eastern Promises
Working for the first time entirely outside of Canada, director David Cronenberg moves into new territory with the crime thriller EASTERN PROMISES, a harrowing and thrilling examination of culture and family values. Working from a tight and intricately plotted script from Steven Knight, Cronenberg reinvents himself as a cultured thriller auteur; simultaneously retaining the graphic violence he’s best known for while crafting a drama that rivals the best of Neil Jordan or Martin Scorsese.
The film focuses on Nikolai, the enigmatic almost ghost-like hitman working for the son of a prominent Russian mobster (Armin Mueller-Stahl) living in London. When English nurse Anna (Naomi Watts) uncovers a Russian-written diary from the purse of a pregnant Jane Doe case, she unknowingly delivers it to the very same Russian mobster to translate. It is soon discovered that the murdered girl was dangerous ties to the family, and the daughter she birthed is the key to unlocking everything. Nikolai is then charged with tailing Anna, developing his relationship with her as she is pulled deeper and deeper into trouble. As Nikolai becomes more important in the family, Anna’s life is endangers and the exact motives of Nikolai’s actions come into question.
As the ruthless assassin, Viggo Mortensen gives a heavily-layered, selflessly brave and completely mesmerizing performance. Never before has Mortensen been so compelling, vanishing into the thickly-accented front of a human monster. His unexpressive face constantly keeps the viewer guessing until his sudden and terrifying outbursts of violence show how much he is capable of. It is these sequences of violence in particular that are most noteworthy; one such scene features full-frontal nudity so risky and daring that very few other actors working today would even attempt it. Yet Mortensen is entirely assured, refusing to let those around him (and those watching the film) to see a moment of weakness or doubt. Watts and Mueller-Stahl give solid performances as well, with Mueller-Stahl especially making an impression as the aged head of the family, switching from tender and caring to cold and menacing in mere moments. The only weak link in the cast is Vincent Cassel as Mueller-Stahl’s rebellious and outlandish son, giving another ranting and raving performance to add to his resume of international creeps. But apart from Cassel, the acting is handled subtly and masterfully on all accounts.
While this certainly isn’t the Cronenberg of SCANNERS or VIDEODROME, there is no doubt that this is a Cronenberg picture. It’s possibly one of the most violent films of the year, its scenes of excessiveness made even more effective by the discomfort it invokes in the viewer. The scenes of graphic acts (and there are plenty) aren’t meant to please, in the way a horror film might. They’re meant to disturb, and they accomplish the job almost too well. The script is nearly too tightly plotted, moving from one point to the next without much time for development. This becomes criminally obvious towards the end of the film, which is too vague for its own good. The build-up to the finale is excellent, yet when it arrives the viewer is asked to assume too much, and the lasting impact falters.
Still, EASTERN PROMISES is one of the best films of the year, carefully crafted and memorable, thanks in no small part to Mortensen’s performance. While the film’s violent content and frank nudity may be a turn-off to some viewers, it should not stop the willing from experiencing the many moment of brilliance the film offers. This is new territory for Cronenberg, yet if he decides to make a habit of it, we may be all the better for it.
***1/2
The film focuses on Nikolai, the enigmatic almost ghost-like hitman working for the son of a prominent Russian mobster (Armin Mueller-Stahl) living in London. When English nurse Anna (Naomi Watts) uncovers a Russian-written diary from the purse of a pregnant Jane Doe case, she unknowingly delivers it to the very same Russian mobster to translate. It is soon discovered that the murdered girl was dangerous ties to the family, and the daughter she birthed is the key to unlocking everything. Nikolai is then charged with tailing Anna, developing his relationship with her as she is pulled deeper and deeper into trouble. As Nikolai becomes more important in the family, Anna’s life is endangers and the exact motives of Nikolai’s actions come into question.
As the ruthless assassin, Viggo Mortensen gives a heavily-layered, selflessly brave and completely mesmerizing performance. Never before has Mortensen been so compelling, vanishing into the thickly-accented front of a human monster. His unexpressive face constantly keeps the viewer guessing until his sudden and terrifying outbursts of violence show how much he is capable of. It is these sequences of violence in particular that are most noteworthy; one such scene features full-frontal nudity so risky and daring that very few other actors working today would even attempt it. Yet Mortensen is entirely assured, refusing to let those around him (and those watching the film) to see a moment of weakness or doubt. Watts and Mueller-Stahl give solid performances as well, with Mueller-Stahl especially making an impression as the aged head of the family, switching from tender and caring to cold and menacing in mere moments. The only weak link in the cast is Vincent Cassel as Mueller-Stahl’s rebellious and outlandish son, giving another ranting and raving performance to add to his resume of international creeps. But apart from Cassel, the acting is handled subtly and masterfully on all accounts.
While this certainly isn’t the Cronenberg of SCANNERS or VIDEODROME, there is no doubt that this is a Cronenberg picture. It’s possibly one of the most violent films of the year, its scenes of excessiveness made even more effective by the discomfort it invokes in the viewer. The scenes of graphic acts (and there are plenty) aren’t meant to please, in the way a horror film might. They’re meant to disturb, and they accomplish the job almost too well. The script is nearly too tightly plotted, moving from one point to the next without much time for development. This becomes criminally obvious towards the end of the film, which is too vague for its own good. The build-up to the finale is excellent, yet when it arrives the viewer is asked to assume too much, and the lasting impact falters.
Still, EASTERN PROMISES is one of the best films of the year, carefully crafted and memorable, thanks in no small part to Mortensen’s performance. While the film’s violent content and frank nudity may be a turn-off to some viewers, it should not stop the willing from experiencing the many moment of brilliance the film offers. This is new territory for Cronenberg, yet if he decides to make a habit of it, we may be all the better for it.
***1/2
Friday, September 14, 2007
The Brave One
Despite the dedication of its star, Jodie Foster, THE BRAVE ONE is an unfortunate mix of messages: a morality tale and revenge thriller at once. While these two genres are undoubtedly similar, the script never quite decides which side of the argument it takes. As a result, the film is a dark, muddied and muddled affair, momentarily appeasing those seeking for thrills and disappointing those expecting a valid point to be made.
Radio commentator Erica Bain is about to get married to her boyfriend, and the couple couldn’t be happier. That is not an understatement: it appears that the sun goes out of its way to shine on these two. A level of happiness that high in the movies only means one thing: death and destruction. After being severely beaten and watching her fiancee’s murder in a shadowy tunnel, Erica finds it difficult to return to the normal world. The one way she finds to cope with her anxiety is to buy a gun illegally off the streets. Initially to be used for protection, Erica’s life takes a dramatic twist after accidentally being involved in a drug store shooting. After, she begins on her own quest of vigilante justice, despite a soft-spoken and supportive policeman (Terrence Howard) on both her tracks: her daytime life as Erica and her nightlife as a new, frightening creature.
Director Neil Jordan (of THE CRYING GAME and INTERVIEW WITH A VAMPIRE) visually brings Erica’s paranoid, unraveling life into dizzying effect; the camera often sways from side to side, plainly illustrating Erica’s anxiety and her growing disgust with herself. And, as always, Foster’s performance as woman-on-the-verge is compelling and instantly sympathetic. To see her diminutive figure and wide blue eyes shaking with fear whenever she fires doesn’t exactly illicit whoops and cheers from the audience. Never is this combination more apparent than in the chilling drug store sequence, when Erica fires her first shot.
Yet despite the high style of the film and Foster’s compelling performance, it is crippled by a lack of initiative on the part of the script. During the more dramatic scenes, Erica’s self-disgust and the sometimes preachy dialogue delivered by Terrence Howard condemn vigilante justice as the wrong solution. Yet when Erica brandishes her weapon, the film is all for vigilante justice. It doesn’t care whether it’s right or wrong, it cares about giving Foster good punch lines before she shoots someone in the face. Alternately condemning vigilantism while praising its ability to make a good revenge thriller, the script pauses after each action sequence as if to say, “Now that was fun. But what’s wrong about this situation?” When the film wraps up in its clichéd and nonsensical manner, it not only betrays the message it was apparently striving for, it renders several aspects of the plot irrelevant.
In the end, the message of the film is more conflicted than the callers on Erica’s radio show. It works decently enough as a typical revenge thriller, but its motives become completely unclear when it tries to kick a message in. Erica is disgusted with what she’s becoming, but the audience cannot agree with her there. Whenever a shady character even glances at her, the audience is practically begging for her to take them down to Chinatown. As a thriller, it does provide some great moments. Yet it strives to be something more, and that is where it fails completely. With a film like this, the main character can either be a misguided and conflicted individual, or they can be a comic book superhero. Unfortunately, the film finally opts for the latter.
*
Radio commentator Erica Bain is about to get married to her boyfriend, and the couple couldn’t be happier. That is not an understatement: it appears that the sun goes out of its way to shine on these two. A level of happiness that high in the movies only means one thing: death and destruction. After being severely beaten and watching her fiancee’s murder in a shadowy tunnel, Erica finds it difficult to return to the normal world. The one way she finds to cope with her anxiety is to buy a gun illegally off the streets. Initially to be used for protection, Erica’s life takes a dramatic twist after accidentally being involved in a drug store shooting. After, she begins on her own quest of vigilante justice, despite a soft-spoken and supportive policeman (Terrence Howard) on both her tracks: her daytime life as Erica and her nightlife as a new, frightening creature.
Director Neil Jordan (of THE CRYING GAME and INTERVIEW WITH A VAMPIRE) visually brings Erica’s paranoid, unraveling life into dizzying effect; the camera often sways from side to side, plainly illustrating Erica’s anxiety and her growing disgust with herself. And, as always, Foster’s performance as woman-on-the-verge is compelling and instantly sympathetic. To see her diminutive figure and wide blue eyes shaking with fear whenever she fires doesn’t exactly illicit whoops and cheers from the audience. Never is this combination more apparent than in the chilling drug store sequence, when Erica fires her first shot.
Yet despite the high style of the film and Foster’s compelling performance, it is crippled by a lack of initiative on the part of the script. During the more dramatic scenes, Erica’s self-disgust and the sometimes preachy dialogue delivered by Terrence Howard condemn vigilante justice as the wrong solution. Yet when Erica brandishes her weapon, the film is all for vigilante justice. It doesn’t care whether it’s right or wrong, it cares about giving Foster good punch lines before she shoots someone in the face. Alternately condemning vigilantism while praising its ability to make a good revenge thriller, the script pauses after each action sequence as if to say, “Now that was fun. But what’s wrong about this situation?” When the film wraps up in its clichéd and nonsensical manner, it not only betrays the message it was apparently striving for, it renders several aspects of the plot irrelevant.
In the end, the message of the film is more conflicted than the callers on Erica’s radio show. It works decently enough as a typical revenge thriller, but its motives become completely unclear when it tries to kick a message in. Erica is disgusted with what she’s becoming, but the audience cannot agree with her there. Whenever a shady character even glances at her, the audience is practically begging for her to take them down to Chinatown. As a thriller, it does provide some great moments. Yet it strives to be something more, and that is where it fails completely. With a film like this, the main character can either be a misguided and conflicted individual, or they can be a comic book superhero. Unfortunately, the film finally opts for the latter.
*
Sunday, September 2, 2007
3:10 to Yuma
Nearly every “long-forgotten” genre has experienced a rebirth since the turn of the century. The American cinema is currently in the midst of no less than three major genre revivals: the fantasy film, the movie musical and the gross-out horror pic. The one genre that has decidedly not been met with success in the past seven years is the American western. Director James Mangold tries his hand at reinventing the western for the new millennium with his remake of 3:10 TO YUMA, originally a 1957 film starring Glenn Ford and Van Heflin. While the film imbues the western with a new-age editing and cinematography, it still falls prey to clichés that can be told from miles away. Despite a few noteworthy performances, the film ends up being something all too familiar.
Russell Crowe stars as Ben Wade, notorious gunman of the west. Once he is captured, with the assistance of a down-on-his-luck rancher (Christian Bale), a small envoy of men is assigned to deliver him to the 3:10 to Yuma Prison train. But things aren’t as easy as all that. Not only do they have to contend with Wade’s murderous band following them (led by Ben Foster, who’s about as threatening as a member of NSYNC), but they must face hidden dangers and, of course, Wade’s superior intellect. The rancher has more at stake as well; the reward money he will collect will save his drought-ridden land from repossession by the bank. And on top of all that, he’s a father. And since he’s a farmer, his oldest son is naturally rebellious and troublesome.
All of this plotting should sound a bit familiar, and indeed it is. The script is ridden with action/western movie clichés, so obvious that any number of plot twists can be determined a mile ahead of time. The other men assigned to Wade’s escort (which include an aged, seen-it-all bounty hunter, an opportunistic railway businessman and an wide-eyed innocent doctor) are all so predictable, two-dimensional and downright irritating that their fates can be foretold at first glance. The only characters that have any real dimension are those that are memorable, thanks mostly in part to the actors giving the performances. Bale does solid if unexciting work, switching mostly between brooding stares, shooting and occasionally giving impassioned speeches about how hard life is. Peter Fonda gives a memorable performance as the wise-cracking bounty hunter, though his rhetoric and sense of superiority is outdone by Crowe, who is completely mesmerizing. His character is far more refined than any other, and Crowe knows it. His character’s cleverness, staying one step ahead in the game while maintaining a sense of detachment is rendered perfectly. Crowe’s performance is easily the standout aspect of the film.
The action sequences are filmed disappointingly, without much inventiveness or spark. It sticks to the modern assumption that all action scenes must be edited quickly, filled with close-shot handheld frames that shake so much it’s nearly impossible to make anything out. Only in the finale does the director display a sense of real tension, creating a rousing and exciting piece, even though the outcome is all too obvious. When a film is supposed to reinvent a genre (as this one was supposedly designed to do) it only becomes memorable if clichés are taken, twisted and run away with. Here, the tried-and-true format is followed to a T. It’s enjoyable, but hardly anything worth writing home about.
While entertaining, 3:10 TO YUMA doesn’t offer any explosive moments that signal a return of the American western. It remains so faithful to the old-style conventions that it neglects adding a few of its own, throwing in a few explosions to try and update the genre. It features generally solid work from most involved, though Crowe is the only real standout. In years to come, if the western does truly make a return, it will likely be thanks to a more ambitious film. As it is, 3:10 TO YUMA is a loud throwback and nothing more.
**
Russell Crowe stars as Ben Wade, notorious gunman of the west. Once he is captured, with the assistance of a down-on-his-luck rancher (Christian Bale), a small envoy of men is assigned to deliver him to the 3:10 to Yuma Prison train. But things aren’t as easy as all that. Not only do they have to contend with Wade’s murderous band following them (led by Ben Foster, who’s about as threatening as a member of NSYNC), but they must face hidden dangers and, of course, Wade’s superior intellect. The rancher has more at stake as well; the reward money he will collect will save his drought-ridden land from repossession by the bank. And on top of all that, he’s a father. And since he’s a farmer, his oldest son is naturally rebellious and troublesome.
All of this plotting should sound a bit familiar, and indeed it is. The script is ridden with action/western movie clichés, so obvious that any number of plot twists can be determined a mile ahead of time. The other men assigned to Wade’s escort (which include an aged, seen-it-all bounty hunter, an opportunistic railway businessman and an wide-eyed innocent doctor) are all so predictable, two-dimensional and downright irritating that their fates can be foretold at first glance. The only characters that have any real dimension are those that are memorable, thanks mostly in part to the actors giving the performances. Bale does solid if unexciting work, switching mostly between brooding stares, shooting and occasionally giving impassioned speeches about how hard life is. Peter Fonda gives a memorable performance as the wise-cracking bounty hunter, though his rhetoric and sense of superiority is outdone by Crowe, who is completely mesmerizing. His character is far more refined than any other, and Crowe knows it. His character’s cleverness, staying one step ahead in the game while maintaining a sense of detachment is rendered perfectly. Crowe’s performance is easily the standout aspect of the film.
The action sequences are filmed disappointingly, without much inventiveness or spark. It sticks to the modern assumption that all action scenes must be edited quickly, filled with close-shot handheld frames that shake so much it’s nearly impossible to make anything out. Only in the finale does the director display a sense of real tension, creating a rousing and exciting piece, even though the outcome is all too obvious. When a film is supposed to reinvent a genre (as this one was supposedly designed to do) it only becomes memorable if clichés are taken, twisted and run away with. Here, the tried-and-true format is followed to a T. It’s enjoyable, but hardly anything worth writing home about.
While entertaining, 3:10 TO YUMA doesn’t offer any explosive moments that signal a return of the American western. It remains so faithful to the old-style conventions that it neglects adding a few of its own, throwing in a few explosions to try and update the genre. It features generally solid work from most involved, though Crowe is the only real standout. In years to come, if the western does truly make a return, it will likely be thanks to a more ambitious film. As it is, 3:10 TO YUMA is a loud throwback and nothing more.
**
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