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.
**
Sunday, September 30, 2007
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.
**
Friday, August 24, 2007
Branagh's Shakespeare Films
With the long-delayed DVD release of Branagh’s 1996 film of HAMLET and the premiere of AS YOU LIKE IT on HBO upon us, I decided to take a look back at the Shakespearean films of today’s Laurence Olivier. Following each of his five Shakespeare films in order brought forth some interesting connections; the star-studded casting (that had a wide variety of end results), the extended takes and the desire to make Shakespeare accessible to anyone and everyone.
Branagh first exploded onto the cinematic scene with 1989’s HENRY V. He had the largest of shoes to fill: the only other film version of HENRY V was the directorial debut of none other than Laurence Olivier in 1944. Yet this film is a tour de force, a tremendous accomplishment for the young Branagh and company, many of which will be seen in his following films. He mixes the beauty of the language with the violence and grittiness reminiscent of other historical epics of the time. Most impressive is the astounding Battle of Agincourt and the scenes that immediately follow, proving to all Shakespeare haters how exciting he can really be. The sequence of collecting the dead, one long tracking shot set to Patrick Doyle’s glorious music, is jaw-dropping spine-tingling brilliance. With HENRY V, Branagh made his biggest breakthrough, paying tribute to those who came before him while reigniting Shakespeare on film for a whole new generation.
He followed his triumphant debut with MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING in 1993, the first notable screen adaptation of one of Shakespeare’s most popular comedies. This film is easily his most enjoyable; light, breezy and featuring stunning photography depicting the Italian countryside. However, the first of Branagh’s brushes with odd stunt-casting sticks out like a sore thumb: Keanu Reeves is typically terrible as the villainous Don John. Branagh filled this film with a few other unlikely faces, including Denzel Washington and Michael Keaton, but Reeves’s flat characterization and apparent lack of interest stop the film dead whenever he appears. The rest of the cast fares well, with Emma Thompson giving one of her greatest performances. Her chemistry with Branagh is undeniable and their comedic skills have never been sharper.
Branagh’s most ambitious project was clearly 1996’s HAMLET, the first (and only) unedited adaptation of the play. Clocking in at four hours and two minutes, the film is certainly epic, yet every minute is well spent. Never has Branagh’s desire to make Shakespeare more accessible been more apparent; the film is filled with sudden flashes of violence and sex, breaking the silence of the film at a moment’s notice. As the titular character, Branagh plays him to the hilt; no longer is Hamlet quiet and brooding, but loud, angry and inches away from a breakdown. At times he teeters dangerously toward overacting, and his screaming monologues may turn off some, he remains effective in the role. He surrounds himself with the finest actors around; Derek Jacobi, Julie Christie and Kate Winslet all give stunning performances, giving solid reason why the play should go unedited. Again, there are the curious cameos, Jack Lemmon and Robin Williams are the most out of place, and if you blink in the wrong spot you’ll miss Judi Dench, but the likes of Billy Crystal and Charlton Heston are surprisingly effective. The film has an epic scope not seen since. Viewing the mirrored halls of Elsinore or the snow-covered hills of Denmark are reason alone to see this stunning film.
From 2000, LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST is nothing more than a pleasant misfire. Taking one of Shakespeare’s lesser known plays, Branagh tries to mold it into a musical comedy, inserting classic songs from the 30s and 40s, performed with varying levels of success by the cast. Again Branagh misfires when it comes to stunt casting: the presence of Alicia Silverstone is off-putting and, while certainly beautiful enough for her character, she doesn’t quite seem to understand what she’s saying. The film would be ably forgettable if it were not for Natasha McElhone, whose unusual beauty and intelligence make her a dynamically strong love interest for Branagh, who is a few years too old to be best buds with the likes of Matthew Lillard.
Finally, Branagh returned to the world of Shakespeare this year with AS YOU LIKE IT, a pleasant but rather by-the-numbers adaptation. Transposing the setting to imperial Japan, the look of the film is gorgeous (from the thick forest of Arden to the delicate, intricate kimonos worn by the cast), but offers little in terms of plot. For the first time, Branagh is nowhere to be seen, but the cast performs the material well. Alfred Molina is the stand out as Touchstone, reveling in his role of the fool. Romola Garai and Bryce Dallas Howard are both radiant and likable as Celia and Rosalind, with Garai in particular shining during the film’s lighter moments. Only Kevin Kline seems out of place, curiously enough. Though the nature of Jacques would seem to call for it, Kline seems uninterested and offers nothing new. While it does not reach the heights of his first three adaptations, AS YOU LIKE IT still proves that Branagh is the master when it comes to Shakespeare.
HENRY V: ****
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING: ***1/2
HAMLET: ****
LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST: **
AS YOU LIKE IT: ***
Branagh first exploded onto the cinematic scene with 1989’s HENRY V. He had the largest of shoes to fill: the only other film version of HENRY V was the directorial debut of none other than Laurence Olivier in 1944. Yet this film is a tour de force, a tremendous accomplishment for the young Branagh and company, many of which will be seen in his following films. He mixes the beauty of the language with the violence and grittiness reminiscent of other historical epics of the time. Most impressive is the astounding Battle of Agincourt and the scenes that immediately follow, proving to all Shakespeare haters how exciting he can really be. The sequence of collecting the dead, one long tracking shot set to Patrick Doyle’s glorious music, is jaw-dropping spine-tingling brilliance. With HENRY V, Branagh made his biggest breakthrough, paying tribute to those who came before him while reigniting Shakespeare on film for a whole new generation.
He followed his triumphant debut with MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING in 1993, the first notable screen adaptation of one of Shakespeare’s most popular comedies. This film is easily his most enjoyable; light, breezy and featuring stunning photography depicting the Italian countryside. However, the first of Branagh’s brushes with odd stunt-casting sticks out like a sore thumb: Keanu Reeves is typically terrible as the villainous Don John. Branagh filled this film with a few other unlikely faces, including Denzel Washington and Michael Keaton, but Reeves’s flat characterization and apparent lack of interest stop the film dead whenever he appears. The rest of the cast fares well, with Emma Thompson giving one of her greatest performances. Her chemistry with Branagh is undeniable and their comedic skills have never been sharper.
Branagh’s most ambitious project was clearly 1996’s HAMLET, the first (and only) unedited adaptation of the play. Clocking in at four hours and two minutes, the film is certainly epic, yet every minute is well spent. Never has Branagh’s desire to make Shakespeare more accessible been more apparent; the film is filled with sudden flashes of violence and sex, breaking the silence of the film at a moment’s notice. As the titular character, Branagh plays him to the hilt; no longer is Hamlet quiet and brooding, but loud, angry and inches away from a breakdown. At times he teeters dangerously toward overacting, and his screaming monologues may turn off some, he remains effective in the role. He surrounds himself with the finest actors around; Derek Jacobi, Julie Christie and Kate Winslet all give stunning performances, giving solid reason why the play should go unedited. Again, there are the curious cameos, Jack Lemmon and Robin Williams are the most out of place, and if you blink in the wrong spot you’ll miss Judi Dench, but the likes of Billy Crystal and Charlton Heston are surprisingly effective. The film has an epic scope not seen since. Viewing the mirrored halls of Elsinore or the snow-covered hills of Denmark are reason alone to see this stunning film.
From 2000, LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST is nothing more than a pleasant misfire. Taking one of Shakespeare’s lesser known plays, Branagh tries to mold it into a musical comedy, inserting classic songs from the 30s and 40s, performed with varying levels of success by the cast. Again Branagh misfires when it comes to stunt casting: the presence of Alicia Silverstone is off-putting and, while certainly beautiful enough for her character, she doesn’t quite seem to understand what she’s saying. The film would be ably forgettable if it were not for Natasha McElhone, whose unusual beauty and intelligence make her a dynamically strong love interest for Branagh, who is a few years too old to be best buds with the likes of Matthew Lillard.
Finally, Branagh returned to the world of Shakespeare this year with AS YOU LIKE IT, a pleasant but rather by-the-numbers adaptation. Transposing the setting to imperial Japan, the look of the film is gorgeous (from the thick forest of Arden to the delicate, intricate kimonos worn by the cast), but offers little in terms of plot. For the first time, Branagh is nowhere to be seen, but the cast performs the material well. Alfred Molina is the stand out as Touchstone, reveling in his role of the fool. Romola Garai and Bryce Dallas Howard are both radiant and likable as Celia and Rosalind, with Garai in particular shining during the film’s lighter moments. Only Kevin Kline seems out of place, curiously enough. Though the nature of Jacques would seem to call for it, Kline seems uninterested and offers nothing new. While it does not reach the heights of his first three adaptations, AS YOU LIKE IT still proves that Branagh is the master when it comes to Shakespeare.
HENRY V: ****
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING: ***1/2
HAMLET: ****
LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST: **
AS YOU LIKE IT: ***
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Superbad
SUPERBAD hits you like a blast from the past. Not just in a nostalgic sense (for those of us no longer in high school) but for anyone who lived through the seventies. The creators of KNOCKED UP may have just given up the ultimate horny teen comedy, one that will assuredly bewilder and offend straight-minded types and have people under 30 rolling in the aisles everywhere. It’s a bawdy romp that holds nothing back, hitting you with underage drinking from all sides (those misfits!), endless illustrations a certain bodily organ, and reckless behavior from all involved. It is a perfect picture of irresponsibility, and it couldn’t be funnier.
Best friends Evan and Seth (likely named for the film’s writers, Evan Goldberg and co-star Seth Rogen) have only a few weeks left before high school graduation, and therefore are running out of time to snatch a summer girlfriend and have a special, alcohol-influenced late night encounter. Their opportunity arises when they are invited to a typical high school party (you know, just a few people, it’ll be fun…) and their geeky third wheel Fogel scores a fake I.D. with the already-renowned moniker “McLovin”. Charged with supplying the booze for the party, the rest of the film follows their misadventures in their quest to buy and deliver the alcohol. This includes storming a party with a sexual predator, several brawls and a few meetings with a pair of bored, yearning-for-the-past policemen, played with comic gusto by Bill Hader and Rogen.
Jonah Hill and Michael Cera play the sex-starved teenagers, both in a role that seems tailor made for them. Hill is a loud, volatile character, unafraid to ridicule his shape for the sake of comedy. Cera, as on TV’s “Arrested Development”, is the instantly likable dork; the kind you can’t help but root for. These are kids who liken their sexual life to Orson Welles’s film career; they’re not your typical teenage misfits. In his film debut, Christopher Mintz-Plasse (as Fogel/McLovin) leaves viewers in an uproar from the first moment he arrives. From his sweaty panic attacks to his painfully awkward attempts at anything “hip”, he remains the epitome of the nerd.
Though the film is set in the present, its style clearly reaches back to the best and solid-colored of the 1970s. Every building looks as if it hasn’t been touched for 25 years, the soundtrack is a nostalgic mix, and the three main characters’ costumes are straight from Good Will. The film is awash with the kind of youthful exuberance that only high schoolers know; the sexually explicit comments made with no regard over who hears and the feeling that a sense of freedom ends, not begins, with graduation. While there is a fleeting moment of deeper thought when Seth and Evan appear to explore their relationship a bit more, it is all turned into comedy when the morning hangovers come around. In their search for sex and, just maybe, something a little more long-lasting, we are content to sit back and watch them work their way out of seemingly inescapable fates.
The film is crude and crass, and never makes any lies about it. If one is ready to accept that (and there will be those that won’t), SUPERBAD will be the funniest movie to come along in quite a while. Producer Judd Apatow has scored another home run that will become an instant classic to his target group; basically anyone who enjoys a good sex comedy. Even those a little hesitant to the genre will be won over by the film’s relentless pace and complete lack of restraint. The jokes come fast, getting dirtier each and every time. While some will shake their heads in disgust, there are those who will realize it for what it is and just let in happen. And in the process, they’ll laugh their heads off.
***
Best friends Evan and Seth (likely named for the film’s writers, Evan Goldberg and co-star Seth Rogen) have only a few weeks left before high school graduation, and therefore are running out of time to snatch a summer girlfriend and have a special, alcohol-influenced late night encounter. Their opportunity arises when they are invited to a typical high school party (you know, just a few people, it’ll be fun…) and their geeky third wheel Fogel scores a fake I.D. with the already-renowned moniker “McLovin”. Charged with supplying the booze for the party, the rest of the film follows their misadventures in their quest to buy and deliver the alcohol. This includes storming a party with a sexual predator, several brawls and a few meetings with a pair of bored, yearning-for-the-past policemen, played with comic gusto by Bill Hader and Rogen.
Jonah Hill and Michael Cera play the sex-starved teenagers, both in a role that seems tailor made for them. Hill is a loud, volatile character, unafraid to ridicule his shape for the sake of comedy. Cera, as on TV’s “Arrested Development”, is the instantly likable dork; the kind you can’t help but root for. These are kids who liken their sexual life to Orson Welles’s film career; they’re not your typical teenage misfits. In his film debut, Christopher Mintz-Plasse (as Fogel/McLovin) leaves viewers in an uproar from the first moment he arrives. From his sweaty panic attacks to his painfully awkward attempts at anything “hip”, he remains the epitome of the nerd.
Though the film is set in the present, its style clearly reaches back to the best and solid-colored of the 1970s. Every building looks as if it hasn’t been touched for 25 years, the soundtrack is a nostalgic mix, and the three main characters’ costumes are straight from Good Will. The film is awash with the kind of youthful exuberance that only high schoolers know; the sexually explicit comments made with no regard over who hears and the feeling that a sense of freedom ends, not begins, with graduation. While there is a fleeting moment of deeper thought when Seth and Evan appear to explore their relationship a bit more, it is all turned into comedy when the morning hangovers come around. In their search for sex and, just maybe, something a little more long-lasting, we are content to sit back and watch them work their way out of seemingly inescapable fates.
The film is crude and crass, and never makes any lies about it. If one is ready to accept that (and there will be those that won’t), SUPERBAD will be the funniest movie to come along in quite a while. Producer Judd Apatow has scored another home run that will become an instant classic to his target group; basically anyone who enjoys a good sex comedy. Even those a little hesitant to the genre will be won over by the film’s relentless pace and complete lack of restraint. The jokes come fast, getting dirtier each and every time. While some will shake their heads in disgust, there are those who will realize it for what it is and just let in happen. And in the process, they’ll laugh their heads off.
***
Friday, August 17, 2007
The Invasion
Every twenty years or so, we are given a new film version of the sci-fi classic “The Body Snatchers” by Jack Finney. Each incarnation of the story speaks directly to the time it was produced; in this post-9/11 era, a revisiting of the material would prove appropriately apt. Yet instead of a smart and thought-provoking sci-fi thriller, we have been given a jumbled mess made of swallow observations of today’s America. Any potentially noteworthy aspects of the film (and there are many) are destroyed by poor writing and risk-free producing by those only in it for the money.
The basic premise is the same; a lone hero, here a therapist, (as portrayed by Nicole Kidman) receives an odd complaint from an acquaintance, one of her patients (Veronica Cartwright, an alumnus of the 1978 Philip Kaufman remake): her husband is not her husband. At first, the heroine writes it off as the ramblings of an insecure person, but more and more people begin displaying the same symptoms; emotionless detachment, sudden bursts of violence and a tendency to stare unsettlingly at people. It is not long before the acquaintance’s proclamations are proved right: an alien life form is taking over the bodies of humans, changing them during REM sleep. All of this is taken directly from previous versions of the film, but several turns are made; aside from the main character being female, a son now enters the picture. And this son is not just any ordinary child; he holds the key to the secret behind the invasion. Is it just me, or is “the key” something we all lose when we hit 18? Children only seem to have “the key” nowadays.
There are several points of interest that keep the film from sliding into complete banality, or a mere clone of other new age paranoia thrillers. For one, the accomplished cast gives the material their all. Kidman is quite effective in the lead, her portrayal becoming more intriguing as she begins the hunt for her son. The direction of German-born Oliver Hirschbiegel is stark and alienating; the perfect look for the type of paranoid thriller the film wants to be. At several points in the film, he creates small montages of jump cuts, moving forward and back in time that heighten tension and purposely create confusion, adding some life into what otherwise would be completely predictable. This technique is most effective in a thrilling sequence set in a dank, dirty subway station. As Kidman struggles to get away from the infected, the image jumps forward in time, giving brief glimpses of the aftermath before it happens. It is a daring move, one that pushes the film to an experimental level not typically seen in summer Hollywood fare.
Unfortunately, producer Joel Silver apparently noticed and seems determined to stop it. The finale, your typical explosion-filled, quick-cutted and loud car chase sequence, seems to belong to another movie entirely; it may as well be, since the scenes were obviously directed by another (the Wachowski brothers). It is this, coupled with the swallow writing that prove the film’s downfall. The script subscribes to nearly every cliché set forth by THE RING, THE GRUDGE, and other recent thriller hits. Distressed woman in the lead? Check. Creepy yet lovable child who becomes the point of interest? Check. Topical subjects just to show how important this film is? Check. It’s all there. And what’s worse, the film’s final message is about as subtle as the aforementioned car crash; from the constant barrage of news footage covered shuttle explosions and Middle East conflicts to blatant suspicions that pharmaceutical companies may be doing more damage than good (gasp!) and that the government may be lying to us (double gasp!), the script practically brands itself with IMPORTANT in every scene. It gets so bad as to become laughable in certain cases; for example, the infected pass on the “virus” by vomiting into drinks and serving them to the unbeknownst. It’s like flu mania, as if the entire country was populated by five-year olds who think cooties are worse than germs.
The end result is simply disappointing. With a source that appears always ripe for reinvention, a talented cast and highly acclaimed director, THE INVASION should be much better than it is. The film’s descent into standard Hollywood thriller moviemaking is one of the main faults; one wonders if the film would have been better off untouched. Hey, look at the Bourne franchise; there are people willing to use their brains while they’re at the movies. Yet the swallow and painfully obvious script is a major fault as well; in an effort to connect to today’s world, the film becomes preachy when it should be alienating and terrifying. By the film’s end, when everything has been wrapped up all neat and tidy, the viewer is left unsatisfied. The only moments of genuine suspense belong all to Hirschbiegel; if anything, this film will be remembered as the severely flawed yet intriguing debut of this fascinating filmmaker.
*1/2
The basic premise is the same; a lone hero, here a therapist, (as portrayed by Nicole Kidman) receives an odd complaint from an acquaintance, one of her patients (Veronica Cartwright, an alumnus of the 1978 Philip Kaufman remake): her husband is not her husband. At first, the heroine writes it off as the ramblings of an insecure person, but more and more people begin displaying the same symptoms; emotionless detachment, sudden bursts of violence and a tendency to stare unsettlingly at people. It is not long before the acquaintance’s proclamations are proved right: an alien life form is taking over the bodies of humans, changing them during REM sleep. All of this is taken directly from previous versions of the film, but several turns are made; aside from the main character being female, a son now enters the picture. And this son is not just any ordinary child; he holds the key to the secret behind the invasion. Is it just me, or is “the key” something we all lose when we hit 18? Children only seem to have “the key” nowadays.
There are several points of interest that keep the film from sliding into complete banality, or a mere clone of other new age paranoia thrillers. For one, the accomplished cast gives the material their all. Kidman is quite effective in the lead, her portrayal becoming more intriguing as she begins the hunt for her son. The direction of German-born Oliver Hirschbiegel is stark and alienating; the perfect look for the type of paranoid thriller the film wants to be. At several points in the film, he creates small montages of jump cuts, moving forward and back in time that heighten tension and purposely create confusion, adding some life into what otherwise would be completely predictable. This technique is most effective in a thrilling sequence set in a dank, dirty subway station. As Kidman struggles to get away from the infected, the image jumps forward in time, giving brief glimpses of the aftermath before it happens. It is a daring move, one that pushes the film to an experimental level not typically seen in summer Hollywood fare.
Unfortunately, producer Joel Silver apparently noticed and seems determined to stop it. The finale, your typical explosion-filled, quick-cutted and loud car chase sequence, seems to belong to another movie entirely; it may as well be, since the scenes were obviously directed by another (the Wachowski brothers). It is this, coupled with the swallow writing that prove the film’s downfall. The script subscribes to nearly every cliché set forth by THE RING, THE GRUDGE, and other recent thriller hits. Distressed woman in the lead? Check. Creepy yet lovable child who becomes the point of interest? Check. Topical subjects just to show how important this film is? Check. It’s all there. And what’s worse, the film’s final message is about as subtle as the aforementioned car crash; from the constant barrage of news footage covered shuttle explosions and Middle East conflicts to blatant suspicions that pharmaceutical companies may be doing more damage than good (gasp!) and that the government may be lying to us (double gasp!), the script practically brands itself with IMPORTANT in every scene. It gets so bad as to become laughable in certain cases; for example, the infected pass on the “virus” by vomiting into drinks and serving them to the unbeknownst. It’s like flu mania, as if the entire country was populated by five-year olds who think cooties are worse than germs.
The end result is simply disappointing. With a source that appears always ripe for reinvention, a talented cast and highly acclaimed director, THE INVASION should be much better than it is. The film’s descent into standard Hollywood thriller moviemaking is one of the main faults; one wonders if the film would have been better off untouched. Hey, look at the Bourne franchise; there are people willing to use their brains while they’re at the movies. Yet the swallow and painfully obvious script is a major fault as well; in an effort to connect to today’s world, the film becomes preachy when it should be alienating and terrifying. By the film’s end, when everything has been wrapped up all neat and tidy, the viewer is left unsatisfied. The only moments of genuine suspense belong all to Hirschbiegel; if anything, this film will be remembered as the severely flawed yet intriguing debut of this fascinating filmmaker.
*1/2
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