Rick's Cafe Texan

Above All Other Primates

2012-02-09T12:44:00.000-07:00

KING KONG (1933)

There are certain films that despite the silliness of the premise, not only hold up but take on an amazingly real presence. If one were told the plot of King Kong is "a giant, and I mean, GIANT, gorilla becomes fixated on a beautiful girl", it's understandable people might laugh. King Kong overcomes that by a combination of brilliant filmmaking, groundbreaking special effects, and strong pacing that always keeps your attention and never lets go.

Film producer Carl Denham (Robert Armstrong) is known for his at times reckless filmmaking style, not shrinking from manning the camera despite danger. Now he's on a time-crunch: determined to get to an unknown destination to shoot his next film before the ship is held from sailing due to explosives on board. However, despite his reputation, he can't find a leading lady. With time pressing him, he goes into New York City, determined to find a girl, ANY girl. Fortunately for him, he comes across Ann Darrow (Fay Wray), a former film extra down on her luck. Eager for adventure, she agrees to go with his crew.

The ship sails into uncharted waters, much to the misgiving of Captain Engelhorn (Frank Reicher) and First Mate John Driscoll (Bruce Cabot). The sweet and somewhat naive Ann is thrilled to be in pictures, and Carl coaches her into film acting, while Ann and Jack quickly fall in love. Now they arrive at their destination: a mysterious island where Denham has heard of a mythical creature called Kong. He believes the legend and setting will make a great setting for an adventure film.

He got more than he bargained for. On the island, the natives celebrate Kong with presenting a beautiful woman. Once they see Ann, they abduct her to present her to Kong. While there's a rescue party for Ann, it is too late: Kong has taken her. Kong is a gigantic ape, who takes Ann to his lair, the rescue party in furious pursuit. Kong appears fascinated by Ann: he doesn't kill her, merely admiring her beauty. However, Kong is a powerful being, killing any creature (dinosaur or man) who dares get in his way. Despite this, Jack manages to rescue Ann and while Kong goes after them, the bombs Denham has knock Kong out.

Denham, always eager for a big hit, takes Kong to New York, where he presents him as King Kong: The Eighth Wonder of the World. Despite all the precautions taken, the photographers antagonizes Kong so much that he breaks free and continues his mad search for Ann. He rampages through Manhattan, finds her, and takes her to the top of the Empire State Building. Eventually, Kong's fascination with Ann brings him down in more ways than one.

Again, on the surface the entire plot of King Kong appears downright bonkers. However, enormous credit goes the cast and crew, who brought a real power and pacing to King Kong to where one doesn't get caught up in the strangeness of the plot but rather with the thrill and excitement of the adventure.

Main credit goes to Merian C. Cooper, who co-directed King Kong (with Ernest B. Schoedsack) and with Edgar Wallace conceived the story. He tapped into what are now-standard plot points (a damsel in distress, the jungle setting, a romance between two characters who "don't like" each other) and built on them to keep the pace steady, going from the mystery of where the crew was going to the rescue of Ann to the escape of Kong through his rampage of New York City.

There is also something to be said of the beautiful cinematography by Eddie Linden, J. O. Taylor, and Vernon Walker. One moment in particular stands out: when the ship is coming close to the mysterious island. The fog that envelops the ship as they come slowly to the island is beautifully shot, a sequence full of suspense, mystery, adventure, and courtesy of Cabot and Wray, even romance.

Adding to this is Max Steiner's brilliant score, which builds on the suspense of this scene in particular, but never lets up from the thrill of the natives calling for Kong to Kong's tragic fall.

On the technical side, the greatest credit goes to Willis O'Brien and his simply spectacular special effects. Kong appears, even nearly eighty years later, amazingly realistic. Perhaps if one looks real close we can see that Kong is a stop-motion figure, but when watching the screen (even when Kong is in close-up) his movements are so real we completely accept what we see as real. Kong's first appearance on screen is amazing: a spectacular and amazingly realistic creature that appears thoroughly natural. There's no other word for Kong apart from 'spectacular'.

Even better, the composite shots of the humans interacting with the creatures (such as when the rescue party comes across a dinosaur) are blended so well that we hardly realize that is a rear-screen projection. O'Brien and his crew blended the shots so well that few films from this era can match how well they work together.

I digress to say that I saw the first few minutes of Judgment At Nuremberg earlier, and it was obvious that the ruined city was a film screened behind the actors. For 1961, it looks obviously fake. King Kong, twenty-seven years earlier, conversely, looks so natural that one can easily believe the island and all their creatures are fully alive and real. King Kong today is one of the standards by which all special-effects films should be measured: the craftsmanship behind it is simply that good.

Granted, perhaps today, they may not be as convincing as they would have been in 1933, but they still hold up amazingly well.

The performances in the film are also brilliant. Fay Wray could scream like no one else, and she photographs beautifully, but credit should be given to her as an actress in that the non-screaming, non-Kong scenes are done quite well. She brings a youthful naivete and sense of adventure to Ann, making her both sweet and eager for something better than trying to steal apples for food. Her scenes with Cabot as the love interest are played excellently, where the subtext of their 'dislike' is played so clearly we know these two will be in love before the final reel.

Armstrong is also strong as the eager Denham, a man who cares about making a film people will want to see. He has a great enthusiasm and can even bring a light bit of comic relief in his enthusiasm to bring Kong to the world at large.

King Kong is an amazingly thrilling adventure: I did gasp when during Kong's rampage he throws a woman out the window. Through all the climatic finale, even realizing that Wray was in front of a rear-projection screen, the pacing, the music, the directing, and the special effects are so well mixed that it creates a sense of tension and danger that never lets up. Everything about King Kong is so thrilling that to its enormous credit it still holds up as a great adventure, and truly one of the great films of all time.

If there are any flaws within King Kong, it is the imagery of the natives (although it's suppose to be the South Seas, the natives look curiously African rather than Polynesian), and on the character of the cook, Charlie the Chinaman (down to his English). Alas, these are products of their time, but on the whole very minor flaws to a truly great film.

By the end of King Kong, I won't deny I came close to almost shedding a tear for the big beast as he comes to his tragic end. Perhaps Beauty did kill the Beast, but King Kong is a true beauty of film that will thankfully never die.

DECISION: A+

A Silence Throughout Never Never Land

2012-02-08T13:34:00.073-07:00

PETER PAN (1924)

There has been a tradition to cast a female in the lead of Peter Pan. As a result, it's no surprise that the first filmed version of Peter Pan adopts this and other theatrical traditions of the J.M. Barrie story. The 1924 version of Sir James' story is probably as close to what we would have seen when it first appeared on stage, but this is not a flaw. Rather, Peter Pan is a delightful film that children will thoroughly enjoy for the fantasy aspects and adults will appreciate for the innovative use of special effects.

The story of Peter Pan is one that has become part of the culture in general, but a quick recap. The Darling family consists of a father (Cyril Chadwick), a mother (Esther Ralston), and their three children: sons John (Jack Murphy), Michael (Phillipe DeLacey), and daughter Wendy (Mary Brian). They are watched over by their dog Nana (George Ali). Into the Darling house flies the shadow of the boy who wouldn't grow up: Peter Pan (Betty Bronson). Peter enters the house, and Wendy sews his shadow to him. Now Peter invites Wendy to travel with him to Never Never Land to be mother to his group, the Lost Boys. She goes, as do John and Michael, much to the dislike of fairy Tinker Bell (the appropriately-named Virginia Browne Faire).

Once in Never Never Land, we meet those who live there: the Lost Boys, the Indians, and the pirates. While Indian maiden Princess Tiger Lily (Anna May Wong) has a slight crush on Peter, neither she or Wendy get his attention. However, Peter does have an enemy in the evil Captain Hook (Ernest Torrence). Captain Hook is determined to get his hand (singular) on Peter, and soon he overruns the Indians and takes the Lost Boys and the Darlings hostage. Tink comes close to dying after taking poison meant for Peter, but thanks to the pleas of Peter directly to us, she comes to life. Now Peter and Captain Hook meet for the last time. Peter is victorious, and while he isn't happy with it, Peter lets the Darlings go back to their London home. However, Peter and Mrs. Darling come to an agreement: Wendy can return to Never Never Land once a year.

What makes Peter Pan so delightful is that it is made with children strictly in mind. Director Herbert Brenon creates a world that is thoroughly fantastical, whimsical, one where the imagination of children would be what is real. There are simply beautiful shots in Peter Pan that make one forget that this is a silent film (and thus we can rely on the visuals): the flight from London to Never Never Land is beautiful, as is when Peter builds a little cabin for Wendy and the shots on Captain Hook's ship.

A great deal of the credit goes to cinematographer James Wong Howe (who along with Gregg Toland, Haskell Wexler, Gordon Willis, and Jack Cardiff among others is one of the great cinematographers in film history). Howe's use of the camera in Peter Pan (in particular in the Never Never Land scenes) is sharp with beautiful touches (as when Peter 'tests' his shadow). While we can imagine (and if we look closely, see) the strings that pull our cast to flight, we soon get so wrapped into the story that we either really don't see or care (or care that Peter is a girl).

The performances are a sheer delight from beginning to end. We have to start with Ali's Nana: while having a dog as a nanny is unbelievable, we soon forget that it is a man in a dog suit. While it helps that the dog suit itself is large enough to make Nana appear to be merely a large dog rather than a man inside, credit should be given to Ali for making the dog movement realistic. We also soon forget that technically, Peter Pan is really a female. Bronson has a sweetness in her face that shows the eager youthfulness and braggadocio to Peter. Admittedly, Bronson is quite balletic in her interpretation to Peter, where her body movements are very graceful. When Peter pleads with us the audience to help bring Tinker Bell back to life, Bronson's face is so expressive in her hope for Tink mixed with fear that she will die that one can easily imagine small children getting wrapped up in the film and saving our fairy from death.

The Darling children are quite good on screen. Since Wendy is the primary character, Mary Brian communicates both the innocence of childhood and the growing romantic feelings for Peter. Faire's Tinker Bell doesn't have much screen time (but when she is there, the diminutive fairy is mixed so well into the film that one easily accepts the 'reality' of it all.

The best performance is Torrence's Captain Hook (curiously, this version of Peter Pan breaks with tradition of having Mr. Darling and Captain Hook played by the same actor). Torrence keeps the balance between the comic foil to Peter and the dangerous, menacing pirate who won't shrink from killing the children.

There is an inventiveness in Peter Pan, a sweetness that goes so well with the source material. Philip C. Carli's new score is sweet and loving and captures the innocence of Peter Pan. The fact that this version is a silent film doesn't hamper the innocence and delight of the film. Actually, it enhances it because we don't become distracted. It is good that this film is no longer lost, but that it survived to delight future generations. As a side note, the other versions all work well, but that's due to the source material. Silence is not a hindrance in Peter Pan. Instead, the film inspires us to think wonderful thoughts...which is what one has after watching Peter Pan.

DECISION: A-

An Ellipse Of the Heart

2012-02-08T03:36:00.077-07:00

AGORA

I've been reading The Swerve: How The World Became Modern by Stephen Greenblatt. While the book is about how Lucretius' poem On the Nature of Things was saved from being lost to history and how its rescue changed the course of Western thought, it does touch on the story featured in Agora. Mr. Greenblatt briefly covers the tale of Hypatia, a brilliant female philosopher and scientist in ancient Alexandria brought down by a Christian mob convinced her study of the sciences (and her championing of reason) were signs of witchcraft. Granted, there were political reasons for her eventual murder at the hands of the mob (her support against the expulsion of the Jewish population from Alexandria had as much to do with it as did her pagan studies). Professor Greenblatt uses this sad tale to emphasize his point that Christianity did everything possible to destroy the wisdom of the ages that did not conform to The Faith and we as a civilization came close to losing our intellectual and cultural heritage (whether he believes present-day Christianity and its followers pose the same threat I cannot say). However, while the story of Hypatia and the end of the Great Library at Alexandria would serve as a great source for an exciting film, Agora fails to capitalize on it due to a lack of connection with all the characters.

Hypatia (Rachel Weisz) is a brilliant and beautiful philosopher and scientist, constantly vexed by the Ptolemaic system of planetary motion. As she works to make sense of how the 'wanderers' (the planets) appear to be different sizes at different times as does the sun (which she believes to be at the center), her students have eyes only for her. There are two chief students who are enamoured of her: Orestes (Oscar Isaac), a pagan, and Synesius (Rupert Evans), a Christian. There is also her slave Davus (Max Minghella), another one in love with her; she cares not for any of them. Truth be told, she is devoted only to her studies and her father, Theon (Michael Lonsdale, or as I lovingly remember him, Drax from Moonraker--a film I still unapologetically admit to enjoying, but I digress). Unbeknownst to anyone, Davus has come under the spell of Ammonius (Ashraf Barhom), a Christian fanatic (and really, aren't they all) who brings him to the Faith.

The struggle between the upstart Christians and the pagans comes to a head when the former commit an act of blasphemy against the latter (from what I understood, they threw rotten vegetables at the statues). A battle ensues: first the pagans attacking the Christians, then the Christians laying siege to the Library and Temple complex attached to it. Even though Synesius is within the Library and did not participate in the assaults, at first he and his fellow Christian students are ordered to be held as hostages but Hypatia will not allow this. Eventually, the siege is lifted but as a result, the Christians rampage the library, destroying the statues and books contained within (just like today). Davus, who joins the Christians, almost assaults Hypatia but cannot go through with it. She frees him...

...and then we get the second act. Orestes is now both a Christian and Prefect of Alexandria, Synesius is Bishop of Cyrene. Unfortunately, the Bishop of Alexandria, Cyril (Sammy Samir) now wants to turn Alexandria into the ancient version of Taliban-run Afghanistan. Not satisfied with stamping out paganism, he now sets his sights on the Jewish citizens, ordering pogroms. Orestes fears that taking on Cyril directly will lead to a weakening of his position and hopes that his old friend Synesius can help. The negotiations fail due to Cyril's insistence that 'women' should not have power over men (hint: he's talking about the Pagan Hypatia). Davus, now part of the Taliban-like Parabalani, forsakes his desire for wisdom, but not for Hypatia. When Cyril decides that Hypatia must go, he attempts to warn her but is too late. Deciding that his brothers will kill her, Davus suffocates her rather than let her be skinned alive.

Somehow, it's hard to believe that with such a tale of wisdom and madness, of love, of fanaticism, Agora could have come out to be so stilted and hollow. I think it has to do with how director and co-writer Alejandro Amenabar (with Mateo Gil) decided to treat both the subject and the actors (in particular the latter). Despite its two-hour running time we never got to really know the characters or their motivations for almost anything they do. For example, Davus' conversion to Christianity, if based strictly on how its presented in Agora, is based solely on giving out his master's bread to the poor. Whatever struggle within his soul there was to bring him to embrace Christ was not presented on-screen, nor Synesius' moderate Christianity or Orestes' support for paganism at the beginning (nor his conversion to Christianity, whether it was sincere or calculated is only hinted as being the latter).

We also don't ever follow why any of these men were so passionately in love with Hypatia (apart from her beauty). She is a bit remote, aloof, apart from the goings-on around her rather than being in the midst of things. Somehow in Agora, there never seemed to be a firm decision to either be a chronicle of the events leading up to the fall of the Library of Alexandria or a love triangle (or quadrangle) between Hypathia and her trio of suitors. Curiously, whatever romantic thoughts either Orestes or Synesius held for Hypatia appears to have disappeared by the time the Library is first ransacked. While Davus continues to hold some kind of torch for her, we never see what exactly attracted him to her or why/whether he kept pining for her long after he embraced some form of Christianity (for a film that portrays Christians as unthinking mobs, we don't see why anyone could be moved to join the movement in the first place).

I don't think this is the fault of the actors in Agora. Weisz is a good actress, so her portrayal of Hypatia as bright but removed from any emotions (she is more excited about finding how the Earth revolves around the Sun than about people being killed all around her) is good but we never really figure out what drives her as a person. As a scientist, perhaps, but as a person, a woman, she is treated like one of the statues the Christians want to destroy. Isaac is similarly hampered by his Orestes, someone who is remarkably dispassionate about almost everything (even when courting Hypatia by playing reeds). Evans has the same fate: whatever reason he remains faithful to Christ while pursuing the studies could have played well in the embrace of faith and reason, but he's not given much to do on-screen. Minghella suffers the most: while he is suppose to be the heart of Agora, his expressions rarely go past two: either a scowl involving almost everything going on around and to him and a vague like (not love) for Hypatia.

What there is good in Agora is in the technical side: the chaotic siege of the Library and the ensuing battles (of which there are many) are well-done, and we do get a sense that Agora is true to what Alexandria would be like in the 4th Century. There is a positive in that Agora doesn't appear to rely on massive CGI to create the mobs (although the times we get shots of the Earth from space borders on the farcical, emphasizing how "important" the film is). Dario Marianelli's score at times hammers the fact that Agora is desperate to be an "important" film. When the Library itself falls, we get a shot of people rampaging through it that is on-screen upside down. While I get the sense that this represents "a world turned upside down", a little less visual symbolism would have been better.

The split between the stories of the fall of the Alexandria Library and the death of Hypatia appear to be two different films with merely the same characters (and given we don't know these characters or motivations all that well, it only makes things more muddled). Somehow, by taking so long to build up to the climatic siege, everything after that appears anti-climatic.

The biggest flaw in Agora was whenever we see a legend (text on the screen filling in information). It was incredibly difficult to read (I had to zoom in twice to make out what was on the screen, and ultimately the information could have been given in a different manner).

Agora is not a bad film, but it could have been much better if it didn't take itself so seriously. It would have been better for it to have had a smaller scope: if we had gotten to know the characters, understood their motivations and how they reacted to the sweep of history rather than being supporting characters to the struggle between pagan and Christian, reason and faith. Ultimately, Agora is a bit confused, and given that the subject of the film is Hypatia is the Queen of Rational Thought, that's not pretentious...it's ironic.

DECISION: C-

Let's Not Go to The Dogs Tonight

2012-02-07T08:01:00.000-07:00

STRAW DOGS (2011)

It may be a disadvantage that I have yet to see the original 1971 version of Straw Dogs. Perhaps I won't notice if something, shall we say, was lost in the translation. What I can say about this version of Straw Dogs is that while watching, one idea kept coming back again and again.

This would make A Great Comedy!

If the people behind the remake of Straw Dogs had decided to ditch the faux-intellectual vs. redneck feud and focused on the clash of cultures, you could have had a delightful laugh-filled romp. Instead, they decided they were going to make a shocking suspense-filled bore, with story threads that don't connect and characterizations that appear to come from fifty years ago.

David Sumner (James Marsden) and his wife, Amy (Kate Bosworth) move from their Los Angeles home to Blackwater, Mississippi to take her father's old house after his death. David, a screenwriter, and Amy, an actress, met while he wrote a television series Amy had some success with. In Blackwater, David hopes to continue his newest script on the battle of Stalingrad, while Amy repairs her father's old home and heals from his death. Amy's past isn't far behind: her old beau, former football star Charlie (Alexander Skarsgard) is still in Blackwater, still thinking himself a great man. As it so happens, Charlie is now a contractor, and since the Sumners need the family barn repaired...

Well, as it stands Charlie the hillbilly and his crew are boorish: listening to country music and drinking on the job, then cutting things early so they can go hunting. All of Blackwater lives up to Amy's nickname of 'Back-water': the town has a local drunk, angry former football coach Tom (James Woods), local village idiot Jeremy (Dominic Purcell) who has a curious relationship with local nymphet Janice (Willa Holland), who happens to be Coach Heddon's daughter, and worse of all, no business in Blackwater takes credit cards! Imagine that! Of course, David isn't a real man either: he can't change a tire and types for a living and listens to classical music while doing it, and worse, doesn't like hunting! Soon, there is an undercurrent of hostility between David and Charlie, more so since Charlie still wants Amy.

As for Amy, she makes things terribly confusing: while loving David and not pleased at the antics of her redneck neighbors (such as making catcalls while she runs), she also insists that David participate in hick activities like going to picnics, to church, and even high school football games. She also does some sort of angry striptease while they work, so we know things aren't going to go well. While David is taken on his first hunting trip by the boys, Charlie goes to their house and semi-rapes Amy. I say semi-rapes because while Amy doesn't want to have sex with Charlie, she doesn't put up much a fight. However, when Norman (Rhys Coiro), another of Charlie's friends enters the house and forces sex on her, Charlie just stares in shock. Despite this, Amy doesn't tell a clueless David what has happened.

Things come to a head at the football game. Janice finally gets Jeremy to try to fool around, but when the drunken Coach goes in search of her, we find that the Blackwater Lenny silences the Blackwater Lolita (though we get the faintest hints of what exactly happened). Jeremy gets hit by an angry David who left the game with an angry Amy. Coach, along with Charlie and his work crew, now lay siege to the Sumner home, demanding they hand over Jeremy. In the melee, Sheriff and local Iraq Intervention veteran John Burke (Laz Alonzo...who apparently is Blackwater's only black resident) is shot. Now it becomes total war, with the meek David finally going all Commando on the hillbilly brigade.

The issue with Straw Dogs is that writer/director Rod Lurie is simply trying too hard to make this film overtly symbolic with his metaphors. The best (or worse) example is when he juxtaposes David's hunting with the attack on Amy. We go back and forth between them, and trust me...we get the symbolism of David going hunting for an innocent animal and Charlie going hunting for an innocent woman. It's laid on a bit thick.

Truth be told, almost everything is laid on a bit thick. We get the idea that the people in Blackwater are unsophisticated to the worldly Sumners...imagine a business that doesn't take credit cards. You even had the requisite Lynyrd Skynyrd song at the local bar (which apparently the whole town, even the black sheriff) go to, as well as a bumper sticker of the Stars and Bars. I confess I was waiting for them, and when I saw the old Confederate flag on the screen, I knew Straw Dogs was going whole-hog in its idea that the American South of 2011 is still a hotbed of yahoos and idiots.

Going a bit further into that, throwing in the subplot of Jeremy not only appears to be from a different story altogether but never appears to be part of the story of David vs. Charlie, and when it finally joins the main story it appears to be thoroughly forced in. Why couldn't Charlie's mob go in just because they wanted Amy? Going into that, Amy's decision to NOT tell her husband about her rape is perhaps the most puzzling in Straw Dogs (I wrote in large letters TELL HIM THEY RAPED YOU!). She is very upset about her cat getting strangled, but when she is raped she keeps silent?

Finally, it is unintentionally funny when Sheriff Burke is shot down. It only brings up that old cliche about the black guy being the first one killed. As it stands, the Sheriff never really takes a prominent role in town, having no problem allowing these hicks to basically do as they please. Then again, Blackwater's biggest problem appears to keep Jeremy under control.

In terms of performances, I think Purcell was wildly miscast as the Lenny-esque Jeremy. Not only does he look far too beefy to be seen as this gentle innocent but he's not given much to do other than stare and mumble about being Janice's boyfriend. Somehow it seems laughable that someone as large and physically strong as Purcell would be beaten up so easily by someone as small (compared to him) as Woods. Woods, who is among America's better actors, had just one-note to hit: that of the angry drunk, and he went all-out on that front to where it did appear to be farcical how he devoured the screen.

As for the leads, Marsden did a good job in making David a wimp but not in making him an intellectual (perhaps it's wrong, but this is the first time a Hollywood screenwriter is presented as the 'intellectual'--hardly a title given to those who wrote Green Lantern or I Melt With You). For most of Straw Dogs, David is less opposed to violence and more unable to stand up for himself. Whenever anyone challenges him, he never uses his alleged intelligence to deal with them. Instead, he retreats, and one can't really rally around someone who won't rally in the first place.

Bosworth has never been on my list of Great Actresses (I've yet to see a good performance from her) and Straw Dogs is no different. There is no emotional range to her, even after undergoing a traumatic gang-rape. Her decisions before and after are just stupid and illogical. As for Skarsgard, I give him credit for having a strong Southern accent (although I imagine his time in Bon Temps gave the Swede a leg-up on that). However, Charlie does nothing but smolder and show off his body throughout the film. Whatever anger there was that his glory days are long gone is never communicated (primarily because they are irrelevant to the plot).

As a sidenote, perhaps it works in the overall story, but I was amazed how Charlie towered over David. Given that Skarsgard is 6'4" to Marsden's 5'10" it's not a surprise, but when they are put together the half-foot difference between them appears startling and a little distracting.

Again and again while watching Straw Dogs, I thought it would have made a great comedy. The curious thing is that at times it actually played like one: with the village idiot and the crazy drunken coach with the lusty daughter becoming more and more hilarious. Whatever idea that Straw Dogs is a story of a man finally standing up to those threatening him and his wife becomes lost in a collection of cliches and stereotypes, story threads that don't connect, bad performances, a heavy-handed effort at symbolism and a fixation on Skarsgard's physique.

Ultimately, this remake of Straw Dogs is a weird hybrid between The Wicker Man and Deliverance. Not only is it a bungled effort to redo a film that perhaps shouldn't have been remade, but it rips off better films too. Put that up as another crime Straw Dogs committed.

DECISION: D-

Hey Little Tambourine Boy

2012-02-02T08:43:00.000-07:00

EXTREMELY LOUD & INCREDIBLY CLOSE

When I was growing up, Asperger's Syndrome didn't exist, nor did Attention Deficit Disorder or its kissing cousin Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder. I am not saying that they don't exist or even that they didn't actually exist in my formative years. I AM saying that in the 80s and 90s, I simply had never heard of Asperger's or ADD/ADHD and didn't know anyone who had been diagnosed with any of them.

I say all this because in Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, our protagonist tells us helpfully that he was tested for Asperger's but that the tests were inconclusive. If he doesn't have Asperger's, then this kid is really just an ass. The kid at the heart of EL&IC is self-centered, inconsiderate, vicious at times, prone to eccentricities that would be considered irritating in an old man, and perhaps worst of all, annoying...hopelessly annoying. The best way to describe what is suppose to be the heart of EL&IC is Rain Man: The Early Years.

That is, IF he doesn't have Asperger's. If he does indeed have Asperger's (and I'm inclined to believe he does), then it just makes EL&IC merely frustrating at times to watch but it doesn't excuse his behavior or make how other people react and behave any more logical.

The story is told from Oskar's point of view (and in voiceover...which long-time readers know I have a near-mania against). Oskar (Jeopardy! Kids Week Champion Thomas Horn) has issues, and that's long before "The Worst Day" as he calls it. "The Worst Day" happens to be September 11th, 2001. On that day, his father Thomas (Tom Hanks) died at the World Trade Center. In flashbacks we see that Thomas is the bestest dad any boy (even one as...unique as Oskar) could ever have: always getting his son to have adventures, mostly looking for the mythical 6th Borough of New York City. Thomas is just the greatest...a father without flaws of any kind.

Now with his father gone as a result of "The Worst Day", Oskar is stuck with his mother Linda (Sandra Bullock) whom Oskar doesn't like and says as much (in one particularly ugly scene, he tells her he wishes it was her, not Thomas, who had died on "The Worst Day"). A year later, Oskar is still handling, rather poorly, the emotional aftereffects of "The Worst Day" (if you're getting annoyed at my constant use of the phrase 'The Worst Day', I'm only repeating what Oskar repeats). He's hidden the answering machine that has Thomas' six final messages (and not letting Linda know her husband had called on "The Worst Day"). However, to move a story along, Oskar finally has the courage to enter Thomas' closet, and while there, he finds a key in an envelope labelled "Black".

Oskar comes to what to him is a logical conclusion: this key is Thomas' final message to his son, one last game between father and son so that his final eight minutes can be extended. (Oskar, in voiceover, tells us that if the sun were to explode, we on Earth wouldn't know for eight minutes, blissfully aware that we were all going to die...hence the analogy. If he doesn't have Asperger's, he's definitely got issues). He decides that Black is a surname, and that he has to find every person named Black in the 5 known boroughs of New York City to see what the key opens.

Being at the very least methodical, Oskar decided to go through the phonebook and find every Black in New York City...all 400-plus. Oskar already has issues before "The Worst Day", but "The Worst Day" only intensifies his fears: one of them is a fear of public transportation. Since he cannot use the subway or buses, he goes around New York City on foot, walking from Manhattan to Brooklyn, the Bronx, Queens, and Staten Island (I figure there he'll either have to ride the ferry, row a boat himself, or swim...if he isn't afraid of the water). There's no problem skipping school, or having a ten-year-old roaming around NYC on foot with only his damn tambourine to protect him.

On his journey to find the Black, he has various encounters. We start with Abby Black (Viola Davis) who is having a very bad day but allows this little chatterbox to come and even to take her picture. Various short glimpses of other Blacks, but still no one knows nothing about Oskar's key or of Thomas.

During his hunt, he is joined by a mysterious figure known as The Renter (Max von Sydow). We know he's The Renter not only because everyone refers to him as The Renter but because when Oskar goes to his grandmama's he doesn't find her but finds the man who is 'renting' from her. The Renter has a mysterious link to Oskar (to tell you would be to give things away, but here's a hint: The Renter shrugs his shoulders just like Thomas the Bestest Dad in the World).

In this journey, we get glimpses of exactly why Oskar is so haunted by the answering machine from "The Worst Day", we do get the story of the Black Key, The Renter runs, from the beyond Thomas sends one last final message, and Linda and Oskar come to a peaceful co-existence.

While watching EL&IC, my mind started wandering from the film and onto the Black. I started wondering about other people Oskar might encounter, and began making my own list. During the film, I started to wonder if he would eventually meet the following people...

Clint Black

Jack Black

Michael Ian Black

Lewis Black

And of course, the Citizen Kane of Black-surnamed personalities...

Rebecca Black

Yes, at one point in EL&IC, I actually started to make a list of people surnamed Black, because Oskar's fixation was either contagious or simply looney.

A lot of EL&IC is a little hard to believe. Chief among them is the idea that any sane parent would allow her 10-year-old son to wander around the streets of New York City unguarded, or that, as we learn, she was fully aware of Oskar's adventures, she wouldn't inform Grandmama that her son was running around the city with someone who was to avoid him at all costs. Moreover, the idea that The Renter would introduce himself as "The Renter" is something that might work in Jonathan Safran Foer's novel, but when translated into a movie, the device is just far too cutesy to be believed.

I'm going to put the believability factor aside for a moment. Instead, I'm going to turn my eyes to how Stephen Daltry decided to not direct anyone to anything to a good performance. Hanks does another variation of Larry Crowne, that happy-go-lucky character who is just about the sweetest most loveable person ever. As portrayed by Hanks, Thomas is without flaws, and I'm willing to cut some slack in terms of how a child would remember a lost father, but somehow Hanks and Horn came off as annoying together: the perfect father, never cross, always patient and eager to do all sorts of things with his son. I'm not asking for conflict in all characters, but I would like at least a moment where Thomas had another type of emotion other than generally cheery.

Bullock doesn't do anything in EL&IC. There's a scene where we see her talking to Thomas over the phone on "The Worst Day", and everything in that particular scene in terms of her performance just looked wrong. She wasn't actually acting, she was acting LIKE she was acting, as if she didn't believe the situation her character was in but was doing her best to pretend to do so. We also have to deal with a serious problem of just how inept Linda is in helping Oskar with his grief: as far as we know we don't ever see a moment where either of them sought counseling (which given both the circumstances and his potential mental issues would be highly recommended).

It is unfair to go after Horn for his robotic interpretation of Oskar. He's not an actor, and perhaps he may never act again. However, as intelligent as Horn may be in real-life he doesn't have the skills or abilities to make Oskar anything other than a nightmare to endure. Again and again the word "annoying" kept popping up in my notes. It isn't just that Oskar's idiosyncrasies make him hard to spend time with, it's that Horn almost goes out of his way to make Oskar extremely unlikeable. In his incessant directness (in particular how he insults people), in his playing of the damn tambourine to calm him down, in his selfishness and thoughtlessness, one can't bring themselves to care about him.

One particularly horrifying scene was when Oskar tells The Renter the story of his journey: not only do we have to listen to Horn's robotic recitation of his lines but he does it in a rapid-fire delivery and we're treated to clips from everything we've seen already. This scene was an absolute nightmare to watch and I am amazed why Daltry or screenwriter Eric Roth couldn't restructure the book to make this flow easier rather than have us go through information we've already seen. Given that we not only got treated to a scene of Oskar going into Dad's closet but a voiceover confirming this, I figure subtlety is not EL&IC's strong suit.

In fact, many scenes in EL&IC are there to call attention to themselves, but the effect is to make things almost grotesque. Near the end of the film, we see how Thomas' last call ended, and Oskar falls in an amazingly overdramatic manner to where it is almost farce: this scene of Horn collapsing oh-so-poetically as the second tower collapses is just ugly both in how it looks and what it reflects (it also looks completely fake). We are treated to two quick moments of Hanks falling from the World Trade Center, and to my mind, there is something creepy, wrong, even immoral about shooting such horrifying moments in an excessively poetic manner.

There's something in my mind that makes the whole thing wildly wrong: not only is the story forced in its efforts to paint the horror of September 11th through the eyes of a child (and an annoying, almost deranged and uninteresting one at that) but everything in EL&IC plays far too manipulative to be believed.

I don't think eleven years later it is 'too soon' to make a September 11th film, but Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close is not that film. The BIG problem is that Oskar is just so unlikeable (AND THAT DAMN VOICEOVER--HOW I HATE VOICEOVERS). It has nothing to do with Asperger's, more with the fact that Horn could not make Oskar someone we could genuinely root for in his quixotic quest to unravel an uninteresting mystery (which itself is technically resolved but leaves us without an actual resolution). Granted, I've never read the novel, but now I have even less reason to do so if the material is as bad as the cinematic result.

I now realize why they named their child Oskar...because Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close was thinking Oscar.

DECISION: D+

On To The Second Star To The Right

2012-02-01T03:12:00.025-07:00

I decided to do a brief retrospective on Peter Pan in cinema. I can't find a particular reason: the play premiered 108 years ago, the book version 101. As far as I know there isn't a new version of Peter Pan coming out (save for the Neverland miniseries of last year, but that was...last year). So, why do this retrospective?

I think it has to do with the fact that I've become fascinated by how much one work by one man has so entered the popular imagination. The characters are now so iconic: the boy who wouldn't grow up, the Lost Boys, the villainous Captain Hook, even the world of Neverland itself are part of our lexicon. The story and characters are such a large part of youth that one thinks they've been around forever. I think it's amazing that Sir James M. Barrie's story is now virtually part of our everyday world. Few authors have that power to have their creations become part of everyone's childhood: Lewis Carroll does, perhaps Beatrix Potter, but while Barrie wrote much, what else besides Pan is remembered? It is a credit to his remarkable talent that his creations are now part of every childhood...perhaps as he intended.

It's just a curiosity thing for me to explore the cinematic versions of the Peter Pan story. With that, I decided to do a brief retrospective on all the sanctioned Peter Pan films.

One shouldn't give too much thought to the fact that Peter is remarkably female. Our first film version of Peter Pan is the 1924 silent version. As with most silent films, it is remarkable that we have it at all, given how quickly silent films were disposed of or just disintegrated. However, as with most versions of Peter Pan, the role of Peter is played by a female. This is a tradition that started with the original theater production and continues: the musical version of Peter Pan is so identified with Mary Martin that any woman is automatically measured against her. All subsequent stagings of the musical will always have a female as Peter. Thus, it made sense to cast a woman as 'the boy who never grew up', and in this first film version it was Betty Bronson.

Somehow, I think the idea of Chinese film star Anna May Wong as Native American Princess Tiger Lilly is more shocking than a woman playing a man. However, Bronson as Peter is something that even now would appear perfectly natural if we consider the theatrical traditions.

On a strictly technical level, this IS the first time Peter Pan was played by...well, a boy. It's only been twenty-nine years since the silent Peter Pan, but now J. M. Barrie's story gets the Disney treatment. The animated Peter Pan story had Bobby Driscoll voicing Peter, and I think that makes perfect sense: a person can distinguish between a woman's and a man's voice when that is the only thing they have. Curiously, whenver I see this version, I always think of both Peter and Wendy as being teens, which again makes sense: Driscoll was seventeen when he voiced Peter and Kathryn Beaumont was fourteen. However, I always thought the animated versions looked a bit older than children, but now I digress.

We have our issue with the Indians in the 1953 version, which I will cover later. For now, I will say that Disney to my mind is hypocritical in keeping Song of the South out of American circulation due to the perception of racism while having no difficulty having Peter Pan available. Yet again, for another time.

Now, in 2003, a mere fifty years after the animated Peter Pan, another breakthrough. In the entire history of Peter Pan (stage or screen), this is the first time that Peter was played on-screen by an actual male. Jeremy Sumpter thus makes history with his interpretation. While he was 13 when he started, he actually looks a bit younger, thus making the idea that he is a boy forever more believeable.

What I find amusing is that while Peter Pan never grew up, Sumpter certainly did. During production, he grew several inches, to where the sets had to be rebuilt to accomodate his growth spurt.

In addition to the santioned versions of Peter Pan, for good measure, I decided to throw in a couple of Peter Pan-related features. The first is what one could call a sequel to Peter Pan: Steven Spielberg's Hook. Robin Williams as Peter Pan appears to be great casting, but at the moment I can't say whether it is a good film or not. Still, it is a curious thing to see how the idea of the boy who never grew up actually DID grow up a most fascinating one.

This is the second Peter Pan-related film, this time focusing on its creation and creator. Finding Neverland is the story of James M. Barrie himself, and while not strictly Peter Pan, this story is as close as we will get to a 'making-of' to Barrie and his immortal work.

In short, I will look over all three versions of Peter Pan (silent, animated, and live-action) as well as two stragglers: the 'sequel' and the 'prequel' if you will. Perhaps I will go for a ranking, but I think that what I will end up with is just a simple overview to the films. This retrospective, which at five I think will be the shortest thus far, is simply for mere pleasure of the story.

I think that my Peter Pan retrospective will be an awfully big adventure.

Jump They Say

2012-01-29T12:11:00.000-07:00

MAN ON A LEDGE

I'm not going to bash Man On A Ledge. If one watches it, one will enjoy it, but there's a caveat to that. One must completely forget that there isn't much in terms of acting and that if one thinks about the plot, everything is both remarkably predictable and far-fetched.

Nick Cassidy (Sam Worthington) nervously checks into the Roosevelt Hotel, has a meal, wipes his fingerprints off everything, and walks out on the ledge (hence the title). It doesn't take long for someone to see him, and soon the police come to stop the jumper. At first, it's Detective Jack Dougherty (Ed Burns), but Nick makes an unusual request: he wants to speak to Detective Lydia Mercer (Elizabeth Banks) or he indeed will jump. Mercer, emotionally broken from a failed rescue attempt of another jumper, is all but dragged to the Roosevelt. She isn't happy about it, and neither is Officer Marcus (Titus Welliver), the growly head of the rescue squad.

As it turns out, not happy either is Nick's former partner, Mike Ackerman (Anthony Mackie), who wonders what exactly is going on. However, one person is extremely happy about all this: gutter journalist Suzie Morales (Kyra Sedgwick...yes, The Closer's own Kyra Sedgwick as Suzie Morales. Process that for a minute).

We quickly learn (primarily through flashbacks) that Nick is a fugitive: a former cop who was convicted of stealing the Monarch Diamond, which he was suppose to be protecting, from the owner, real estate tycoon David Englander (Ed Harris). Nick goes to prison, but makes a daring escape when he's allowed to go to his father's funeral, which forces him to beat up his own brother, Joey (Billy Elliot--I mean, Jamie Bell). Now on the lam, he's on the ledge. As these types of films require a good twist or more to make things interesting, we get the first one rather quickly: Nick's suicidal act is really one gigantic ruse. In reality, it's all part of a master plan to prove Nick's innocence.

How, pray tell? Well, by proving the Monarch was never stolen in the first place! How is this done? By breaking into Englander's vault of course. While Nick distracts the police by being on the ledge, Joey and his girlfriend Angie (Genesis Rodriguez) will break into the building, steal the diamond, and prove Englander faked the robbery for the insurance money. As time begins to run short for the Cassidy brothers, Englander is not too worried, at first, about the goings-on. This is because he has certain police on his payroll. Two guesses...

As the situation unfolds, Mercer and Doughtery finally learn who the man they know as "J. Walker" (why that name made me laugh is anyone's guess but oddly, that name IS a clue), Mercer believes him, we get a few more twists in the break-in and the Monarch Diamond, and eventually the bad cops are revealed, the good ones do their jobs, the Cassidys prove what needed to be proven, and an older valet at the hotel (Bill Sadler) proves unusually helpful to the two boys. Wonder what that was all about?

I can't help having a touch of cynicism on Man On A Ledge only because during the film, so much of Pablo F. Fenjves' screenplay was pretty obvious. When it comes to Nick's "daring" escape, I almost immediately saw through it. The same goes for the most helpful valet. And here is where I fault Man On A Ledge: everything in it is so amazingly predictable that the attempts to have these "shocking twists" don't pan out because they aren't shocking at all. They're not exactly predictable in that one waits for them, but they aren't surprising. If I was able to figure them out really quickly, then anyone should.

Moreover, Man On A Ledge does what a lot of disposable action/thrillers do: they depend on a great many moments of fortuitous coincidences to occur. We depend on everything in the plan going off without a hitch (something that rarely happens) and which appears even harder given how almost inept Angie and Joey are at the actual break-in. I figure to pull of this elaborate heist, there would have to have been rehearsals and a casing of the joint. How Joey or Angie could get at the complications of breaking into the vault where apparently no one ever goes (not even a guard on the floor where said vault is...or even anyone on that floor from the looks of it) we know not. WHY Englander would keep this very valuable there rather than say...at his mansion, or say...in a Swiss vault, or HOW the Cassidys knew he kept it there, we know not. In one crucial moment, in order to cover up the explosion of breaking in, Nick is literally inches from falling over, but pulls back in the nick of time. Why or how not one of them considered that maybe, just maybe...he actually could go over, again, we know not.

Man On A Ledge also requires something else: a certain degree of stupidity to make it work. Internal Affairs may be investigating and suspect certain rogue cops to be in cahoots with Englander, so of course they're going to let the same cops take charge of the situation of someone who at one point was working for them. Even though Nick Cassidy is a cop-turned-criminal, amazingly no one (Doughterty, Mercer, or Marcus) ever recognizes his face until the DNA proof comes in via a cigarette.

I think it's the far-fetched nature of Man On A Ledge more than anything else that pushes the film down. Granted, I know the movie isn't going for much other than entertainment in its hour and forty-odd minute running time, and if I forget that I'm not suppose to think I can clearly enjoy it. However, I can't get those little things like plot or acting out of my measuring system: not if I figure things out well in advance, and not if I can't believe some of the performances.

Asger Leth certainly didn't take much care in how he directed his actors. You can see this with people such as Ed Burns (a man who has built his entire acting career on being the quintessential sarcastic New Yorker). I figure we aren't suppose to care much about Doughtery's life outside the job, but here, I could almost sense Burns thinking, "I say these words, I get paid, I'm outta here". Harris was just reveling in his ability to play the evil 1 Percenter (though I was surprised at how thin he was) and since we really don't need to go into his background (he throws gifts at people, so we know he's evil) the less we see this an an epic confrontation between the 'good cop framed' and the 'bad guy', the better.

I also note that during the standoff at the Roosevelt, a man (who looked either homeless or who had wandered over from Occupy Wall Street--sometimes hard to tell the difference) was shouting something about how the rich guys weren't the ones going to jail. How this mattered to anything that was going on I know not, but it might have been a nice touch to see a group of people on the street with drums chanting "This Is What Democracy Looks Like" to Suzie Morales' camera, a moment of humor in the film. Yet I digress.

It was nice to see Billy Elliot going for a bit of humor whenever he and his girlfriend start doing witty sniping at each other during the robbery (though one wonders whether, again, it made sense that they would choose this particularly tense time to do their version of a Burns & Allen routine), though again, one wonders how easily Joey was captured (or was it all part of the plan...) and when he and Nick had their 'fight', I said to myself, "FAKE!". The second worst performance was Sedgwick, who was not only grossly miscast as the Latina Suzie Morales (the audience I was with laughed several times, mostly in good nature, in Man On A Ledge, but the biggest laughter came when Sedgwick emphasized her character's last name...the majority-Hispanic audience I figure for some reason just couldn't buy the woman most identified with the South as a member of La Raza) but while we saw she was a predatory character she was really superfluous to the story.

The worst performance was from Worthington, an actor that continues to struggle to be convincing. In all the films of his that I've seen: Avatar, the remake of Clash of the Titans, Terminator: Salvation, and The Debt, Worthington isn't called on to be a person of full range. Well, maybe in The Debt he was slightly better than he has been before, but by and large Worthington just has such a hard time expressing any kind of emotion on screen (or completely losing his Australian accent). He appears to be a cross between Taylor Lautner and Robert Pattinson: someone who is being built up to be a big action star (Lautner) but who is also a more serious actor (Pattinson). The fact that neither Lautner or Pattinson have actually done anything close to a performance doesn't bode well for them, but given that Worthington is still stumbling in his efforts to find a range doesn't bode well for him either.

Man On A Ledge isn't by any means a bad film and certainly not the worst film of 2012. It's dumb but in a slightly entertaining way (if of course you're willing to forget that people aren't bringing their A-Game to the film and the story itself is highly contrived, ridiculous, far-fetched, and built on far too many happy turns of fortune to be believed). I figure Man On A Ledge knows what it is, doesn't pretend to be anything else, doesn't aspire to be anything else, and for that I don't fault it. Really, if it weren't for the film's predictability, I would have enjoyed it more. Did I enjoy Man On A Ledge? Slightly, but not enough for me to take a dive for it.

DECISION: C-

La Clé D'Un Passé Tragique

2012-01-28T08:01:00.034-07:00

SARAH'S KEY

The films involving the Holocaust have almost universally revolved, rightly, around the actual victims inside the camps. It isn't often films deal with those on the outside: not collaborators but those living during the Nazi occupation, who weren't party to the horrors around them but who still go through some of the consequences that are almost beyond bearable. Sarah's Key takes us to where few Holocaust-related films have gone to: to those who were neither perpetrators or straight-out victims but who still, generations later, bear the scars of the most monstrous and inhuman era in recorded history.

Sarah's Key has two intertwining stories from 2009 and 1942. In the present-day, American journalist and expatriate Julia (Kristen Scott Thomas) has decided to do a feature-length article about the roundup of French Jews in Paris under the Occupation. She has her own problems: a French husband named Betrand (Frédéric Pierrot) who is deeply immersed in business and not to thrilled to find he is going to be a father again, and a teenage daughter.

Her research gets into the story of young Sarah Starzynski. She is one of the thousands rounded up by the French police where she, her father and mother are held at the Vel' d'Hiv bicycle track. The conditions are inhuman: little water, no bathrooms, and desperate people committing suicide. In a fateful move, Sarah gets her younger brother Michel to hide in a secret room at their Parisian flat, with Sarah taking the key. Her early story involves her desperate attempt to get back to the flat and let Michel out. On her journey back, she is forcibly separated from her parents, escapes with another girl with the help of a French camp guard, and taken in by a kindly French couple. Once Sarah does arrive back at her old home, the discovery of Michel, while unseen, is still a horror.

It's now, during Julia's research, that she makes a shocking discovery of her own: it is her husband's family who had taken the apartment and her father-in-law and his father who are there when Sarah bursts in to find what remains of enfant Michel. I should make clear that her in-laws were thoroughly unaware of Michel's existence and that the secret behind Sarah's Key was kept by Betrand's father and grandfather. Said father-in-law, Eduard Tezac (Michel Duchaussoy) would have preferred for this to have been buried with him as it was buried with his father, but Julia is determined to find out what happened to Sarah, who was not listed as having been murdered by the Nazi or Vichy regimes.

Eduard tells Julia that his father had kept in touch with Sarah's adopted family, and from here she tracks down Sarah's story. Sarah functions, but sinks into bouts of melancholia. Eventually she leaves for America, and marries. At first Julia believes she's found THE Sarah, but we learn that the Mrs. Rainsferd she's tracked down is the SECOND Mrs. Rainsferd. Sarah Rainsferd had died in the 1960s in a car accident. At first, it appears to be the end of Julia's search, until the second Mrs. Rainsferd tells her Sarah and her husband Richard had a son. Now Julia goes from Brooklyn to Florence, where William Rainsferd (Aidan Quinn) at first rejects the idea that his mother Sarah Rainsferd is also Sarah Strazynski: Jew. Eventually, his father Richard, close to death, tells him of Sarah's background and Jewish ancestry.

In the coda, we go to 2011. Julia is now divorced from Betrand and living back in New York with her new daughter. She reunites with William, who tells her he's met Sarah's French adopted family. He also learns that Julia's infant daughter is named Sarah.

The theme of Sarah's Key can be summed up by what a minor character (a historian who gives Julia information about the Vel' D'Hiv roundup) tells her: if you look into it, you don't come out unscathed. Any film about a difficult subject, ranging from the Shoah to slavery to September 11th, has already a heavy burden to it. The positive thing about Sarah's Key is that this little-known story is handled on an intimate level. In other words, rather than attempt to give us a grand overview of what occurred during the Vichy regime, the film instead does two things right: one, it keeps us focused on one particular family and two, it balances remarkably well the stories of Sarah and Julia without shortchanging one or the other.

Major credit for this is due to director Gilles Paquet-Brenner (who also co-wrote the screenplay based on Tatiana De Rosnay's novel with Serge Joncour). Whenever we go from 1942 to 2009, the transitions flow easy and are rarely jarring. The film also allows us to understand that Julia is not just doing research on Sarah's story and that there is nothing outside of that for her. Instead, we see that she is a full person: marital problems, problems with her in-laws, all these things allow us into her private life. Where in other films the research may have overwhelmed her private life to where it becomes all-consuming, Sarah's Key allows us to have those respites and see Julia has troubles of her own which would make an interesting story in and of itself.

It truly is incredible that after her splash in The English Patient, Kristen Scott Thomas hasn't been as big a star as her talents should have made her. She is perfect in both English and French, and even more remarkable is the fact that her American accent is flawless. Scott Thomas underplays Julia, never going for big emotional moments but instead registering her horror, her anger, in small ways. For example, when she discovers both what actually happened to Michel and that her own father-in-law knew the truth about Sarah, her reaction is one of shock and horror, but it's never big. Instead, it is almost quite, which makes it all the more tragic.

Credit should also be given to Mélusine Mayance as the younger Sarah. She has a very difficult task: to make Sarah an average girl, one with fear but also with a determination to rescue her brother at all costs. Her best moment is when she finally comes back to the apartment: her racing up to get to him as fast as possible actually inspires a fleeting moment of hope, while her discovery of Michel's ultimate fate is all the more horrifying and haunting. Even though we never actually see Michel, Paquet-Brenner creates a scene where what we can see in our own mind is far more horrifying than what could have been shown. He showed great restraint in what was already a gruesome scenario, and Mayance carried that off brilliantly.

In the smallest of roles, Quinn is an actor that really should work more. Like Scott Thomas, Quinn in his few brief moments does a good job of making his William someone who can't quite come to terms that everything he knew about his mother was not true.

It really isn't until the war's end where Sarah's Key starts to flag, as if the story was becoming exhausted. I got the sense that once we found that Sarah left for America, we were rushing headlong to end it all (no pun intended). The momentum was lost, and it became a series of 'hit this point, then this point, then that point'. Throwing in the second Mrs. Rainferd, then throwing in the unknown son, then throwing in his discovery of his mother's secret past...again, it appeared as if everyone was rushing.

A minor fault I found to an overall engrossing film. Sarah's Key isn't about the actual crimes perpetrated by the Nazis and their Vichy collaborators. Instead, it's about those who are caught up in horrifying situations not of their doing, and that there were victims of all types. It is about how the truth may set one free, but how it can also be a painful and traumatic experience for those who were indirectly affected by things beyond their control. In Sarah's Key, there are few if any villains, but rather all sorts of collateral damage to acts of unspeakable evil. Then again, even if it causes tremendous pain, these evils must be spoken of, lest we forget...

DECISION: B-

Beane Counting

2012-01-26T13:41:00.000-07:00

MONEYBALL

Although I don't follow baseball, I agree with Billy Beane in Moneyball: there is a romanticism to the game. There is a magic to the game, full of figures that become larger than life: from the nobility of Lou Gehrig and the stoicism of Joe DiMaggio right down to the final triumph of the Red Sox after a seemingly eternal World Series drought. Moneyball is the story of the little team that almost could, and in particular their general manager who decided that the only way to tackle seemingly insurmountable odds against him was to merely change the rules.

Billy Beane (Brad Pitt) has some great players with his Oakland Athletics (or A's in the parlance of sports): with Johnny Damon and Jason Giambi on his roster, the A's make it to the American League Division playoffs against the mighty (and heavily financed) New York Yankees. We start with the A's coming short...in short, they lose. Not only do they lose the game (and the chance to go on to the World Series), but they also lose their star players: both Damon and Giambi go for greener pastures.

With a low roster and the smallest budget in baseball, Beane knows he won't be able to buy expensive players. While on a trip to Cleveland to see about trading players, he comes across Peter Brand (Jonah Hill), a Yale economics grad who has faith in statistics. More specifically, a belief that a good team can be had with a small budget by crunching the numbers of underused and undervalued players, measuring their statistics (averages, number of hits and runs) and by combining them, come out with a winning team. Beane is highly intrigued by this idea, and with it a chance to both shake up how things are done and perhaps to get a winning team.

Beane charges full-steam ahead, with only Brand on his side. His decision to get unorthodox players based not on their looks or their popularity but based solely on the numbers horrifies just around everyone on the A's recruiting board. The A's manager Art Howe (Phillip Seymour Hoffmann) thinks the idea is idiotic and won't play the team Beane champions, instead going with the ones he thinks will win the games.

At first, things go badly for the A's. The team is floundering and Beane is held to blame. However, after Beane forces Howe's hand to play the team that he and Brand put together, the A's start having a series of success. The A's start winning game after game after game...going for an all-time record of 20 straight wins, including a dramatic win over the Kansas City Royals, where the A's started out with an eleven-point lead to blowing it into an eleven-all tie and a dramatic homerun in the final inning. However, Beane won't be satisfied until the A's win the last game...which they don't.

Coupled with all this are scenes from Beane's private life: both his relationship with his daughter (along with his ex-wife and her new husband--a non-baseball watcher) and from his past as a prospective baseball phenom who gave up a scholarship to Stanford for a chance to play in the Majors only to find his pro ball career coming to an ignoble end.

Moneyball is a film that is not strictly about baseball, in particular because we don't see all that much baseball playing in the film itself. Instead, the film is about Beane himself: about his efforts to try something different in order to achieve his goal of winning a World Series. On another level, Moneyball is a film about a man who loves the game and wants to leave his mark on it, if not on the field itself at least then on how to do more with less.

As portrayed by Pitt, Billy Beane is above all a realist, someone who knows the limits he faces and also knows the system doesn't work. Beane is aware that he can't outspend the other teams, so he needs to find another way. When he comes across Brand's numbers-crunching, it appears to be the answer. Pitt's Beane is a remarkably controlled individual, rarely expressing anger but making his frustrations clear about how his method, of which he has full confidence in, is constantly thwarted by small minds determined to stick with what they know even if the results will be the same.

Pitt also excels in his scenes outside the field, in particular with his daughter. We see the genuine love he has for her, and thanks to that we have a fully-rounded individual who sees baseball as his job (one he wants to do the very best at) but whose life is his family. He also brings a sadness to Beane, whenever we see his past as a Major League player. Beane has been all but bred to play the game, and has been told by the scouts that he has the skills to be among the greats. However, his career on the field proved otherwise. In a small but excellent scene, Beane over the phone asks Brand if he would have drafted Beane right out of high school. After an uncomfortable pause, Brand tells him he would have taken Beane in the ninth round, if at all. Knowing what he knows about his career and seeing Brand won't sugarcoat the truth to him, we see into both their characters: both are honest, direct, and interested only in winning.

Hoffmann has a small role, but he makes the most of it. He also maintains great control, but his Howe makes it clear he doesn't see things the way Beane and Brand do, so he does as he thinks right. Jonah Hill moves away from his schlub-comic persona to be a remarkably quiet schlub, a person who is slightly insecure among all the athletes but who has full confidence in his numbers. Granted, oftentimes he appears to just be staring, but at least he's not trying to make us laugh, so that's a plus.

Steven Zaillian and Aaron Sorkin (both Oscar winners in the adapted screenplay category) adapted Michael Lewis' nonfiction book (with story by Stan Chervin) and did a great job in translating it by focusing less on the actual results of the games and more on the human drama. You have this team made up of the likes of David Justice (Stephen Bishop) a player once a big star but whose age is seen as a handicap and who is looking for one last shot, and Scott Hatterberg (Chris Pratt) another player dismissed but who sees in the A's a chance to rise to a great one.

Bennett Miller doesn't spend much time on the games themselves, however, when we do see the game (in particular the A's/Royals game) we do get beautiful moments that speak to that 'magic' baseball has (even for those who don't know what shortstop and outfield mean). As he did with Capote, he doesn't have such things as a distracting score or various story threads. While he gives certain characters their moments, by keeping the focus on Beane (both professional and personal) Moneyball becomes less a movie about baseball than a movie about a man who is determined to make a success out of what he's been given.

I can't find anything particularly bad with Moneyball save for the fact that as good as the film is, I couldn't get passionate about it. It might have been due to the fact that while efficient, Moneyball doesn't attempt to be inspirational. Like the numbers game it emphasizes, the film does its job, does it well, but doesn't stir the emotions. In short, I don't think Moneyball is a bad film. I just didn't get inspired by it, didn't get a sense that I should care all that much about Billy Beane or the A's (even if I happen to favor the Dodgers myself).

Actually, that's not entirely true. I did get inspired in one respect. Given how much emphasis there was in getting value for money, I began to wonder what would happen if Hollywood started adapting the same facts and figures to their lineup of stars. In short, what would happen if the studios found out certain stars were overpaid and underperforming, then started hiring actors, writers, directors, who could make a good film but with limited budgets while cutting the same who weren't. Now THAT'S a film I would cheer for.

DECISION: B-

Oscars 2012 Review

2012-01-24T09:51:00.000-07:00

Well, now we have the official nominations for the 84th annual Academy Awards.

Is it the 84th already? It seems only yesterday that Snow White was dancing with Rob Lowe.

We find that Hugo has 11 nominations, the most of any film, followed closely by The Artist's 10. The Artist was going to get nominated. That's no surprise. It does mean that it now becomes the first silent film to earn a Best Picture nomination since 1929's The Patriot (sadly a lost film).

Now, for some reactions. Let's start with the so-called 'minor categories'. My choices are in red.

BEST SOUND EDITING

Drive
The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo
Hugo
Transformers: Dark of the Moon
War Horse

If it's a reward for the LOUDEST film, it would be Transformers. This category tends to go to the loudest. However, Hugo I think of the nominated films is the best one to integrate sound into the story. It had some good moments of sound (in particular two train collisions). I am surprised that The Artist DIDN'T get a sound nomination, especially considering that when sound was used, it was used remarkably well and effectively.

BEST SOUND MIXING
The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo
Hugo
Moneyball
Transformers: Dark of the Moon
War Horse

Why do I think Moneyball is the oddball (no pun intended) in this category? On this one, I gravitate towards the war movie. Again, another puzzle as to why The Artist isn't listed here. Granted, it is a silent picture, but again, what sound there is in the film is mixed in well.

BEST MAKE-UP

Albert Nobbs
Harry Potter & The Deathly Hallows Part II
The Iron Lady

If you look at Meryl Streep as Margaret Thatcher in The Iron Lady, the make-up doesn't just get Baroness Thatcher's actual appearance so well. It also looks natural. In short, when we get the old Thatcher, the make-up work looks authentic, and that's the hallmark of good make-up work.

BEST DOCUMENTARY SHORT SUBJECT

The Barber of Birmingham: Foot Soldiers of the Civil Rights Movement
God is the Bigger Elvis
Incident in New Baghdad
Saving Face
The Tsunami and the Cherry Blossom

It's almost a given that a Documentary Short Subject will have a film about the civil rights movement. This is a case of 'we haven't seen any of them', but the film about the Japanese tsunami of 2011 appears to be the odds-on favorite. If the nominees don't involve the civil rights movement, the winner is either an anti-Iraq Intervention film or one involving natural disasters.

BEST DOCUMENTARY FEATURE

Hell and Back Again
If A Tree Falls: A Story of the Earth Liberation Movement
Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory
Pina
Undefeated
Unlike previous years, I have actually seen at least two of the nominees (which I consider a step up). It's a personal disappointment that such brilliant films like Page One: Inside the New York Times, Cave of Forgotten Dreams, and especially my Number 2 film of 2011 (Senna) did not make the short list. The Documentary Feature branch in my opinion is turning into a joke: they have failed to nominate among other films Hoop Dreams or Grizzly Man. One wonders what exactly they look for when watching the films. Still, the overall choices aren't bad. I've heard great things about Pina, and Undefeated is a thrilling film about a down-but-not-out high school football team. However, for my tastes the engrossing story of Daniel McGowan from my Number 7 film of 2011 is simply too good.

BEST LIVE-ACTION SHORT FILM
Pentecost
Raju
The Shore
Time Freak
Tuba Atlantic

Sad but that I haven't seen any of them. Back when the Academy was established and for many, many years past that, theaters would routinely show short films before the feature. Now, we get commercials for breast enlargements and community colleges (along with regular commercials. Maybe we should create a Best Commercial category). In any case, I would rather see any of the above films rather than some woman holding a pair of cantaloupes up to her chest to the surprise of her dim-witted husband. I'm hoping YouTube will be more helpful.

BEST ANIMATED SHORT FILM
Dimanche/Sunday
The Fantasic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore
La Luna
A Morning Stroll
Wild Life

This is a case where I might have seen one of the animated films (which again, would be a better use of my time than boobs selling boobs). Yes, people used to see cartoons before the feature (before our dulled society decided cartoons were for children...obviously those who think that aren't too familiar with Japanese anime. Sit through Grave of the Fireflies and tell me that's for children). Yes, perhaps YouTube will be a place to find some of these...worth a look. However, in this case I WILL make a pick, only because the title appears so intriguing.

BEST ANIMATED FEATURE

A Cat in Paris
Chico & Rita
Kung Fu Panda 2
Puss In Boots
Rango

I can imagine the head-scratching with the first two. This is a "WHAT?!" situation: I don't think many people have heard of either A Cat in Paris or Chico & Rita. They didn't have the selling point of something like Happy Feet 2 or Cars 2. It reminds me of when The Book of Kells received a surprise nomination in this category last year. I fault people for not being more adventurous in their film-viewing. I also fault the studios for not trusting said audiences and dumbing things down tremendously. Now, while I haven't seen any of them I would pick Puss In Boots only because I get a stronger sense that it would know what it is: both a prequel and a spoof of Zorro.

BEST FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM

Bullhead (Belgium)
Monsieur Lazhar (Canada)
A Separation (Iran)
Footnote (Israel)
In Darkness (Poland)

So what if the Iranian government crushed the Green Revolution and wants to destroy fellow nominee Israel? From what I've heard, everyone appears crazy over A Separation, and I expect it will transcend politics to win. Whether or not it should...I cannot say for sure.

BEST VISUAL EFFECTS

Harry Potter & The Deathly Hallows Part II
Hugo
Real Steel
Rise of Planet of the Apes
Transfomers: Dark of the Moon

I have to give it to Hugo ONLY because it is the only movie that managed to make 3-D work. However, both Real Steel and Rise of Planet of the Apes would be worthy choices: the former integrated the rock 'em sock 'em robots so well, and the latter is a showcase for motion-capture technology.

BEST ART DIRECTION

The Artist
Harry Potter & The Deadly Hallows: Part II
Hugo
Midnight in Paris
War Horse

It's a tough one between Hugo and Harry. The sets of Hugo are beautiful but the ones for Harry Potter & The Deathly Hallows were brilliant in bringing the end of Hogwarts to life. However, in the end I opted for beauty, in particular the recreations of the Melies films.

BEST COSTUME DESIGN

Anonymous
The Artist
Hugo
Jane Eyre
W.E.

What can I say? My Number One film of 2011 received exactly ONE nomination, so you think I'd vote for anything else?
BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY

The Artist (Michael Hazanavicius)
Bridesmaids (Anne Mumolo and Kristen Wiig)
Margin Call (J.C. Chandor)
Midnight in Paris (Woody Allen)
A Separation (Asghar Farhadi)

First, I cannot for the life of me understand why people, my fellow critics in particular, are enthralled with Bridesmaids, thinking it the Citizen Kane of comedies. Frankly, I think the film is wildly overrated: with the exception of Wiig's meltdown on the plane I don't remember laughing in this 'comedy'. Moreover, I simply cannot believe the Academy will give an Oscar to a movie where a woman defecated in a sink and in a wedding dress in the middle of the street. Ain't gonna happen. For myself, I found Woody Allen's script inventive, playful, and a return to form.
BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY

The Descendants (Alexander Payne, Nat Faxon, and Jim Rash)
Hugo (John Logan)
The Ides of March (George Clooney, Grant Heslov, and Beau Willimon)
Moneyball (Steven Zaillian & Aaron Sorkin, story by Stan Chervin)
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (Bridget O'Connor and Peter Staughan)

I'm at a loss to say whether The Descendants is a good film since it's one of two Best Picture nominees I haven't seen (it's waiting for me patiently). Now, of the others, I found Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy the best of them: it engaged my mind, and unlike other people (perhaps some of my colleagues) I didn't find the plot confusing.

BEST EDITING

The Artist
The Descendants
The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo
Hugo
Moneyball

How is it that I am unimpressed with this list? Moneyball? Again, a movie I though was good but a bit overpraised. Hugo was a bit too long (and the fact I thought they could have cut almost all of 'comedic genius' Sasha Baron Cohen doesn't help). For that, I would pick The Artist in how well the story flowed (especially sans sound).

BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY

The Artist (Guillaume Schiffman)
The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (Jeff Cronenweth)
Hugo (Robert Richardson)
The Tree of Life (Emmanuel Lubezki)
War Horse (Janusz Kaminski)

As much as I detest The Tree of Life (and believe me, I HATED this film) about the only good thing I found in it was the cinematography. Its imagery of Creation is beautiful...almost like a nature documentary. I'm not one to dismiss the good I find in a bad film (even one that causes my fellow critics to masturbate though I simply don't know why). Hence, my own selection.

BEST ORIGINAL SCORE

The Adventures of Tintin (John Williams)
The Artist (Ludovic Bource)
Hugo (Howard Shore)
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (Alberto Iglesias)
War Horse (John Williams)

I liked the music of Tintin (though I though there was too much of it). I see that the controversy over the use of the music from Vertigo didn't interfere with The Artist getting a nomination. In a silent film, the music is more important than almost anything because it all but carries the film. How could I not pick the score (even if Hugo is a fierce second)?

BEST ORIGINAL SONG

Man or Muppet (music & lyrics by Bret McKenzie) The Muppets
Real in Rio (music by Sergio Mendes & Carlinhos Brown, lyrics by Siedha Garrett) Rio*

THIS IS A JOKE! THIS IS A DAMN JOKE! The Academy clearly has no idea what it's doing, or they somehow left out all the nominees. First, only TWO nominees?! I managed to easily find FIVE, so how they arrived with just two is insane! Second, of all the songs from The Muppets, they had to pick one of the DUMBEST?! I remember Man or Muppet, and I though it was deliberately stupid (and one of the worst of the songs). Life's A Happy Song (while deliberately cutesy) is far more memorable.

The idea that Star-Spangled Man from Captain America: The First Avenger or The Living Proof from The Help weren't deemed worthy of a nomination will be one of those moments when people will look back and say, really, Man or Muppet? I haven't heard Real in Rio, but I'm picking it just as a protest vote.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

Kenneth Branagh (My Week With Marilyn)
Jonah Hill (Moneyball)
Nick Nolte (Warrior)
Christopher Plummer (Beginners)
Max von Sydow (Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close)

I can't wait for the ads for 21 Jump Street or the DVD of The Sitter that taut "Oscar nominee Jonah Hill". If I picked the Oscar, I'd be tempted to give it to the surprise nominee (and a pleasant surprise it is). It was a moving performance of a man seeking redemption, but a slight edge is gained for Branagh doing a great turn as Laurence Olivier, getting both his on-screen performance in The Prince & The Showgirl and his off-screen rage so well.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

Bérénice Bejo (The Artist)
Jessica Chastain (The Help)
Melissa McCarthy (Bridesmaids)
Janet McTeer (Albert Nobbs)
Octavia Spencer (The Help)

Chastain got this nomination in lieu of not being able to be nominated for everything she was in (I'm surprised she didn't appear in those breast enlargement commercials before the films.). I really think of those listed, as much as McCarthy was a highlight of the wildly overrated Bridesmaids, it's Spencer's both comic and sad turn as the outwardly strong Minny that should be rewarded. Besides, if I don't vote for her, she might send me some pie...

BEST ACTOR
Demian Bichir (A Better Life)
George Clooney (The Descendants)
Jean Dujardin (The Artist)
Gary Oldman (Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy)
Brad Pitt (Moneyball)

For my money, I'm THRILLED that Bichir's turn as the immigrant attempting to provide for his son was rewarded. I also figure that if Pitt didn't get something for The Tree of Life, Moneyball would do. A tough one with Bichir in the mix, but I narrow it down to Dujardin and Oldman. However, if I were to pick, I have to go for Oldman: he was so understated yet fully commanded the screen whenever he was on. Besides, doesn't he just deserve one because he's basically been good in almost everything and has yet to be rewarded?

BEST ACTRESS

Glenn Close (Albert Nobbs)
Viola Davis (The Help)
Rooney Mara (The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo)
Meryl Streep (The Iron Lady)
Michelle Williams (My Week With Marilyn)

Tough, tough, tough. Really between Davis and Streep. I though Streep was perfect as Margaret Thatcher, but I was so moved by Davis (again, like Oldman, another performance where so much was said with just their face).

BEST DIRECTOR

Michel Hazanavicius (The Artist)
Alexander Payne (The Descendants)
Martin Scorsese (Hugo)
Woody Allen (Midnight in Paris)
Terrence Malick (The Tree of Life)

Of all the directors, there isn't a bad choice save Malick. I'm glad he could tell his deeply personal story, but it's unfortunate that it's a story only HE fully got. However, any director who used 3-D to the full and best effect, he (or she) gets my vote.

BEST PICTURE

The Artist
The Descendants
Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close
The Help
Hugo
Midnight in Paris
Moneyball
The Tree of Life
War Horse

The big surprise is Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. It's been critically derided, and my brother Gabe (who saw it with his girlfriend, which makes me wonder WHY they would consider a September 11th film would be a good date film) said it wasn't that good. In fact, it appears Extremely Loud...is a flop (the second for Tom Hanks). No Bridesmaids, no Harry Potter, so perhaps we should be thankful for small miracles. Of the ones nominated, I would pick Hugo: a film that is both a loving homage to the history of film and a subtle cry to save our film legacy.

This, again, is just a recap of the nominees and my immediate reactions along with my own picks if it were up to me. I haven't seen two of the Best Picture nominees: one is waiting for me, one was just released nationally. I feel that this is not the time to predict which ones will win. Besides, I have MY own selections to consider.

Ultimately, I know myself, and I will eventually make my predictions. I also may change my mind on the ones I have selected now. Let's see how things turn out February 26.

Those Daring Black Men In Their Flying Machines

2012-01-23T21:08:00.000-07:00

RED TAILS

The Tuskegee Airmen deserve all the accolades and honors that a most grateful nation can bestow for their true heroism, both in the theater of war and for breaking down barriers towards fulfilling the American promise of "equality for all". In 2021, the United States Mint will issue its final National Parks Commemorative Quarters: for the Tuskegee Airmen National Historic Site. Red Tails is the feature film that details the rise of the Tuskegee Airmen, and to its credit it isn't a dry history lesson. To its detriment, it isn't much else.

It's Italy, 1944, and the Negro airmen don't have much to do in terms of actually engaging the enemy. If they do, it's really more by accident and persistence than by direct orders. This frustrates the pilots: the more sober (but ironically enough, alcoholic) flight commander Marty "Easy" Julian and his wingman, hot-shot and hot-tempered Joe "Lightning" Little (David Oyelowo). This issue of not only not being able to engage the enemy but being given second-rate planes frustrates the other pilots: the devout "Deacon/Deke" Watkins (Marcus T. Paulk), the comical Samuel "Joker" George (Elijah Kelley) and equally amusing Andrew "Smokey" Salem (R & B star Ne-Yo), and the youngster Ray "Junior" Gannon (Tristan Wilds) who would rather go by another nom de guerre: "Ray-Gun".

Their commanding officers, Colonel A.J. Bullard (Terrence Howard) and Major Emmanuel Stance (Cuba Gooding, Jr.) constantly fight to get the airmen better equipment and actual combat duty, despite the resistance of barely concealed racist Colonel Mortamus (Bryan Cranston). Despite the obstacles, the necessity of war forces their situation: Major General Luntz (Gerald McRaney) needs dependable escorts for his flying fortresses, and the Tuskegee Airmen appear to be able to do the job. With that, the Tuskegee Airmen finally take full flight. To mark themselves as distinct (apart from their skin color), the defiant men paint their airplane tails red.

Somewhere along the way in Red Tails, we get other story threads: there is a little romance between Lighting and an Italian signorina named Sofia (Daniela Ruah), some pilots don't make it to V-E Day, Easy's alcoholism grows while remaining remarkably hidden save for Lighting, and Junior falls behind enemy lines and ends up in Stalag 17 (technically Stalag 19, but given how the story goes, you might as well have William Holden in the next bunk). We end with the Red Tails achieving what they had earned by deeds: the salute of their white military leaders.

Somehow, the idea of bringing the story of the Tuskegee Airmen to the big screen appears to be a no-brainer. It's a story with action, adventure, romance, and the bonus of personal courage despite unfair obstacles. Red Tails, however, drops the ball slightly by not giving the characters anything to do when they are on the ground.

On has to give enormous credit to director Anthony Hemingway (and his producer, one George Lucas) for creating simply wonderful moments of aerial combat. Red Tails opens with a spectacular dogfight that to my mind was highly reminiscent of those from the epic Wings, and whenever we see the Airmen fighting the Germans or taking on the Nazi war machine be it over land or sea, the film is wildly impressive and exciting.

It's only when we get on the ground that Red Tails loses its way. Every time we are suppose to get the human lives behind the Tuskegee Airmen, we are loaded up with stock characters: the religious man, the comic, the by-the-book leader, the hotshot "Maverick" (pun intended) and the rookie. Moreover, Aaron McGruder and John Ridley's screenplay (based on a story by Ridley) at times almost becomes unintentionally comical. As I looked over my notes, I somehow managed to write the phrases "Easy on the booze" and "Lightning crashes", only realizing later that they both sound like awful puns but in fact are an accurate description of the events in the film.

Moreover, the plot appears to be a patchwork of other World War II films. I mentioned that the subplot of Ray "Ray-Gun" Gannon being in a prisoner of war camp appeared to be almost out of Stalag 17, but then we go to a quick shift into The Great Escape and as unbelievable as it sounds, even a hint of Pearl Harbor. Allow me a closer examination of this subplot.

In the two hours of Red Tails, it isn't until about an hour into it that Junior has to bail out and is captured. He then goes into the camp, meets with the stalag leader, then we go back to the other Airmen, and then after a long absence, we see him about to escape the P.O.W. camp. What really happened between Junior's capture and his escape? How did he manage to be part of this masterplan? How did he get the things they needed to get out? Did he build any genuine friendships? Oddly, a whole movie could have been made just out of Ray-Gun's exploits, but because we simply had too many characters with only a few having any story threads, the film had no choice but to jump around and give us only the sketchiest of details.

Moreover the details we do get are remarkably boring and only stop to slow the film down. The romance between Lightning and Sofia appeared to be almost rammed in because all good war films require a love story, and Easy's frustrations of having to live up to his father's high expectations (along with his functional alcoholism) again are touched on but not explored. It's as if Red Tails only wants to give us the thinnest information about the various pilots in order to give them a touch of a backstory.

I fault the screenplay for most of Red Tails' failures to be as good as it could have been. I counted four 'inspirational speeches', all given by Howard, as part of the problem. His Colonel Bullard had obviously risen high in the Army, but in Red Tails, his chief purpose was to rally the troops by giving inspiring messages to them (Terence Blanchard's score only emphasizes how 'important' and 'inspiring' the Colonel's words are suppose to be).

My biggest issue with Red Tails is that we never really got to know the characters. What kind of men were they? Did they have fear? Did they have hope that things would improve? What about their interpersonal relations? Aside from Lighting's romance with Sofia, one would have almost thought all of them were monks given their lack of love lives. Aside from Deacon you would have little indication that they had much of a faith system. Aside from Easy's hinted father issues you'd think all their families (from parents to wives to children) were non-existant.

Again and again, we don't get much of an idea of who the men are, and that is among Red Tails' biggest wasted opportunities. One has to admire the thrilling fight sequences (which were exciting and well-done), but on the whole, by not giving much attention to the Tuskegee Airmen as men, we see a film that could have been great, or even very good. At the moment, it's merely passable, and for most of Red Tails, you can be entertained and enjoy the film (despite its flaws).

I was ready to give Red Tails a barely passing grade because it wasn't terrible but not as good as it could have been. That is, until we got to near the end, when we get a terrible and unfair twist with a character that is plain cheating and frankly opens up a great deal of questions involving points of logic. I refer to this as a Pearl Harbor situation: you've been led to believe a character has died in war only to have him pop back up very much alive and looking even better than when we last saw him. At that point, I actually said out loud, "Oh, come on!" because it didn't work. Add to that, it didn't make any sense: we've been given that character's dogtags, for heaven's sake, and told that they should be given to Easy 'in case he didn't make it'. It's only fair to assume he didn't make it. However, somehow he actually made it, which begs the question: did the guy who brought said dogtags to Easy realize that character wasn't dead or was he so dumb that he thought he was? How did he know he was dead? Was it all part of a practical joke?

I call such plot devices 'cheating', which is something the Tuskegee Airmen did not do. You can't fault the film for good intentions and a noble outlook. You CAN fault them for bungling the job. Again: something the Tuskegee Airmen did not do.

The Tuskegee Airmen
True American Heroes

Their story needs to be told and remembered...it just needs a better movie to do so.

DECISION: C-

The Songs Remain The Same

2012-01-23T14:55:00.000-07:00

GLEE: THE 3-D CONCERT MOVIE

Once, I was asked to watch Glee, a television show about a high school glee club. I did: I saw the first half of the first season, up to Sectionals (which, based from my academic years, kept referring to as Regionals, but I digress). I was not enamoured with it like all my other church friends were, and I put that up to the fact that, unlike them, I have seen actual musicals, good musicals, not warmed-over pop songs shoehorned into whatever plot is thrown in.   Granted, I did find things in Glee (at least the first half of the first season) that were good: some of the acting, a few character arcs, and some of the actual singing and musical staging.

However, as time has gone by, I believe my views on Glee have grown harder and harsher: I could up to a point tolerate how the songs were jammed into the story rather than be allowed to flow naturally. However, Glee became a willing victim of its own excess and press: ALL THOSE GUEST STARS! THEME WEEKS!  A SPINOFF WHERE THEY LOOKED FOR THE NEXT GUEST CHARACTER! REPETITIOUS STORIES! It was turning into an odd version of American Idol. Of course, I had long maintained that Glee was basically The O.C. meets Cop Rock, but at least for the first year or so critics salivated to what they saw as 'originality'. It is only now, that the ratings have gone down, the enthusiasm has gone way down among the 'Gleeks', and I predict that within two to three years, Glee will have its swan song.

On another occasion, I will offer my own views on the phenomenon that was Glee (past tense), but for now, my tired eyes and ears turn to Glee: The 3-D Concert Movie. More than anything else, this may be the apex of its shameless self-promotion and belief in its own brilliance, this idea that Glee is the Citizen Kane of television programming and its creator, Ryan Murphy, the Orson Welles of the small screen...and we know what happened to Orson Welles, don't we?

Despite it being a popular show (curiously enough, with born-again Christian youth groups who don't appear bothered by the open homosexuality and premarital sex abounding on it), I really don't believe people were calling en masse for a film version of Glee. However, we got it, and its a curious creature: part concert film, part informercial. We get what one would expect on Glee: a bunch of young adults (and in Cory Monteith's case, a nearly-thirty-year-old passing as a high school student...who said 21 Jump Street was unrealistic) doing a series of covers of songs ranging from Aretha Franklin to Lady Gaga, but we also throw in interviews with the members of their cult (said Gleeks) telling us variations of "Glee saved my life".

Somehow, Glee isn't just a television show. It's a source of salvation.

If you're a fan of the show, you at least have an advantage over those of us who didn't watch after Finn discovers Puck is the father of Finn's girlfriend Quinn's illegitimate child (despite Finn being technically a virgin). At least you know who is who (as much as he's promoted as the next Icon of Stage and Screen, I'm still not exactly sure who Chord Overstreet is, let alone what his character, or even character's name, is, or why his character is important, or what exactly is suppose to make him such a superstar).   All these people going on stage, their adoring fans screaming as if in a revival, are a blur to those of us who don't see Glee as entertainment or salvation.

I think this is why Glee: The 3-D Concert Movie, is really so hard for those not in the know to embrace. The show itself is perplexing, and the movie doesn't bother to try to set anything in context. It assumes you are already immersed in the Glee-World, and if you're not, it keeps you out...just like the Cheerios (see, I DO know a few things). How ironic that a spectacle like Glee: The 3-D Movie (which is ostensibly about inclusion) does everything to keep non-Gleeks as outcasts among the sparkles and showstoppers.

Here's the best way to break down Glee: The 3-D Movie...it's about the money, honey.  Glee 3-D is ostensibly a concert film where we see the various actors perform the songs they (re)made famous. However, as I was watching, it was becoming harder and harder to figure out whether I was watching the actual actors or the characters doing the songs.

This comes courtesy of the way director Kevin Tancharoen put the actual show together. We get a great many performances (I counted a total of 20 songs--must have been an inordinately long evening) but very little that would indicate that those on stage were portraying the characters. We get a few hints in the forms of what appear to be sketches between them addressing each other by their character's names (and for those of us not with the "in crowd", we really don't know who or what they are) but it's clear that Glee 3-D isn't interested in actually telling a story or integrating the songs into any story.

Not unlike the show itself.

What I can say about the actual musical performances were that there were hit and miss. What I always say about Glee is that they are warmed-over covers, a bit like having a good karaoke singer perform. They are just doing the song, not actually giving a performance.

The best (or worst) example is whenever Lea Michele (who I get the impression that she believes herself to be a true legend) attempts to do her very damnest to be the new Barbra Streisand in not one but two musical numbers (Don't Rain on My Parade from Funny Girl and the duet of Get Happy/Happy Days Are Here Again first done by Judy Garland and Streisand). It isn't that she isn't without some talent, it's just for me that as hard as she tries Michele ISN'T Streisand. Moreover, it makes things more confusing when the backstage footage has her playing her character of Rachel but some of her other castmates appear to be playing themselves.

As for some of the others, they ranged from the bizarre (Mark Salling as Puck singing an ode to fat girls--who knew he was a chubby-chaser) to the downright perverse (Heather Morris' cover of Britney Spears' I'm A Slave 4 U looked like it was a porn moment for the dads. Yes, I am aware that she was recreating Spears' performance at the MTV Video Music Awards, but given that she is suppose to be playing a high school student, it does make things awfully unseemly when men who appear to be in their 50s are cheering like tween girls at Justin Bieber) and flat-out pointless. I'd also like to say that, sorry Heather...as bad a singer as Brit-Brit may be, she's miles ahead of you.

Given that I come to Glee 3-D with barely a knowledge of who is who or what is what, I found Kevin McHale to be the weakest singer. He had not one but two big numbers (a cover of Michael Jackson's PYT-Pretty Young Things and Men Without Hats' Safety Dance). The first was nothing special, but I have always found the second to be a mechanical, robotic rendition--and with not a great voice. I digress to point out that it might nice for his character of Artie to imagine he can walk out of his wheelchair with the greatest of ease (given McHale is not handicapped): must be so nice for all those in wheelchairs who don't have that luxury to just get up and walk away.

Allow me again to point out that there are some remarkably creepy moments. During the show we get endless shots of the fans squealing with delight whenever one of their favorites gets up and gets down. Somehow, I can't understand how people well past middle age could be waving their foam fingers up in the air like they just don't care. I felt sad for them: all these men cheering on people old enough to be their grandkids as if they were actual members of New Directions.

Honestly, Grow UP!

Now, in the mix of all the song and dance, we get a trio of 'inspirational' stories intercut within Glee 3-D. There is Janae, the midget cheerleader (she called herself a midget, so don't get on my case), Josey, the Asperger's Syndrome-afflicted fan who found a release to be social via Glee, and Trenton, who saw in Chris Colfer's character of Kurt a role model which allowed him to come out as a proud gay teen. Every so often we cut to their stories (although how exactly Safety Dance connects with midget cheerleader Janae becoming Prom Queen one never figures out). It's nice to see Janae, Josey, and Trenton (I'm fighting the temptation to say I seriously doubt anyone would have thought he was ever IN the closet, but I digress) doing well for themselves, and they may all put their better lives to being the result of Glee, but Glee 3-D again doesn't make a connection between their stories and the performances.

The stories in fact only appear to be there to point out just how important Glee believes itself to be, how the world is a better place because of it. My view is that no television program could ever be that important.

Finally, I want to point out to Kellen Sarmiento, the "Mini-Warbler" who has become famous for being able to imitate an imitation, in this case Darren Criss' rendition of Katy Perry's Teenage Dream (which I'm led to believe is the Citizen Kane of Glee musical numbers). It might just be me, but someone, a five-year-old singing "Let's go all the way tonight/No regrets, just love" doesn't look cute...it looks creepy. Or am I wrong to think a toddler singing "let you put your hands on my, in my skin-tight jeans" may just be a bit weird?

One more thing: as in almost all 3-D films, really, what was there in Glee: 3-D that made such tricks necessary?

Glee celebrates the outsider, the unpopular kids, the 'losers'. It's a strange thing that Glee: 3-D did everything to keep those who aren't part of New Directions out of the loop. If you are a Gleek (and trust me, within five years you won't be), Glee: 3-D may thrill you. For those of us who are more Academic Decathlon than Glee Club, everything about Glee: 3-D is like Glee the show: one-note.

DECISION: D-

Holmes And His Little Shadow

2012-01-22T09:30:00.062-07:00

SHERLOCK HOLMES: A GAME OF SHADOWS

Allow me, for a moment, to regail you with a tale of London...giddy London, as the Great Morrissey would sing. When I went to London (for the first time, I hope), there was only ONE must-stop on my list. I could go to the Tower of London, or Buckingham Palace, or the Churchill Museum & War Cabinet Rooms, or the West End, or the Globe and would not think much if I missed any of them (hence my idea of going back). However, there was ONE place, one Holy Shrine if you will, that I HAD to call on when there.

221 B Baker Street.

At long last, I would go to the home of Mr. Sherlock Holmes. After finding my way around the Underground, I managed to find the Baker Street station, and after a few blocks of going the wrong way, I finally arrived. I must have spend a good two hours there, marvelling at all the sights of this most sacred of spaces for a devoted Holmes fan as myself. I also spent more than a few pounds there, and yes, I got a deerstalker cap. I also got a derby, and wore it proudly...until I was told it made me look like I was pimping with Biggie Smalls. I don't know how...I got a medium.

While there, I saw several postcards and such. I think I saw some images of Basil Rathbone, and most certainly of Jeremy Brett (the definitive Holmes in my view). Now, this was before producer/writer Stephen Moffat of the longtime science-fiction program River Song (formerly known as Doctor Who) fame came up with Sherlock, so I have no idea if Benedict Cumberbatch now graces the same apartments of Holmes and the loyal Dr. Watson.

However, what I DON'T remember was seeing any pictures of Robert Downey, Jr. and/or Jude Law. I suspect it is because Sherlock Holmes was a piece of crap that bastardized the entire Holmesian canon, and to have anything related to Guy Ritchie's mess of a film would be an insult to the memory of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Or maybe I missed them.

In any case, seeing how Sherlock Holmes was such a hit (despite it bearing no real relation with the Conan Doyle stories save for the use of the character's names), it stood to reason that there would be another Sherlock Holmes movie. Thus, Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows. Longtime readers will know that I always say that whenever you see a colon in the title, it's a clear indication that those behind that particular film will make more of them. Given that, it's not surprising that A Game of Shadows would be the first of perhaps many sequels.

What IS surprising is that somehow, despite their best efforts, they managed to make an even WORSE film than the first.

The plot of A Game of Shadows may be convoluted and idiotic on screen, but elementary to describe (allow me a few moments of levity): it's a remake of League of Extraordinary Gentlemen in all but name. Professor James Moriarty (Jared Harris) is planning to start a world war and profit from it. It's up to his 'intellectual equal Sherlock Holmes (Downey, Jr.) to stop him. To aid him is Dr. John Watson (Law) who doesn't want to help at all but finds himself doing so anyway...even if it means nearly missing his own wedding to Mary (Kelly Reilly). Holmes also has the wit and wisdom of his older brother Mycroft (Stephen Fry), a vague figure in government, while Professor Moriarty has expert assassin Colonel Sebastian Moran (Paul Anderson).

I'd like to stop for a moment to say seeing it was Colonel Moran in A Game of Shadow was about the only genuine surprise I had while watching.

Into this mix comes Gypsy Queen Simza (original Girl With the Dragon Tattoo Noomi Rapace). She's there for the thinnest of reasons, as is American criminal mistress Irene Adler (Rachel McAdams, fulfilling what I guess was some contractual obligation to pop in for what was basically a pointless and contrived cameo).

Well, anyway Moriarty is going to start a war, Holmes is going to stop him, Watson is going to have his honeymoon ruined, and Rapace is going to make her American film debut.

That's about it in the story department.

A Game of Shadows appears desperate to go out of its way to be as idiotic and nonsensical as possible. We never ever stop to actually find out what is going on because Ritchie and his scribes (Michele and Kieran Mulroney) don't really care about an actual plot with such unnecessary things as motivation or even coherence. Instead, all they want is to use Holmes and Company for one mindless action scene after another--logic be damned. The truly important thing, Ritchie believes, is to show us his prowess with slow-motion.

And oh, how he shows us again and again how it will all turn out. As I watched A Game of Shadows, I kept referring to these as Holmes' 'psychic moments' because he wasn't actually deducing something. He was really predicting how something would turn out. That had the effect of essentially removing the mystery out of the situation (pun slightly intended). I counted a total of six of these 'psychic moments', though we see that in the final one Moriarty is equally blessed with such abilities. I figure this is how Moriarty is Holmes' equal and the 'Napoleon of Crime' in Holmes' words.

Somehow, the performances weren't there. They certainly weren't there for the women: McAdams disappears (perhaps forever) within the first ten to fifteen minutes, Reilly isn't there for more than that (and treated rather badly to boot) and Rapace has such a blank expression throughout A Game of Shadows. Perhaps she was trying to figure out what exactly the plot or or how her character related to anything to do with the film altogether.

I give some compliments to Harris (who actually would make a good President Grant in terms of appearance I thought) who was the calm and calculating villain, but Downey was a gigantic disappointment as Holmes. I will go on record to say that he will never be as good as Basil Rathbone and certainly nowhere near Jeremy Brett (perhaps not even Cumberbatch--and his Holmes is suppose to be a 21st Century update!) but at least in the first Sherlock Holmes he was more fun. Here, he appears to think he should mix a little bit of humor (such as dressing in drag) with a far more serious tone (and a weaker British accent). At one point, Downey, Jr. actually looked like The Joker from The Dark Knight.

Law isn't as good as he was in Sherlock Holmes, and I suppose it is because the material really isn't there. Equally useless is Fry (and I'll leave it up to you if you think Fry is generally useless in general or not). Any thought that this man is suppose to be some intellectual giant was pretty much abandoned when he blamed Polish Catholics for starting the Holocaust, but now it is completely gone. You can't be intelligent if you think we want to see a nude scene with Fry's bulbous body flapping about, let alone pay for such horrors . I've long argued that Fry is perceived as an intellectual purely based on his voice and speech intonations. I figure he's smarter than I am, but really, Stevie...you really think we want to see see YOU naked?

Even the little things I liked in the first Sherlock Holmes (such as Hans Zimmer's zippy score) were watered down and irrelevant in A Game of Shadows. What is suppose to be an epic escape into the forest turns instead into a showcase for more slow-motion, which dilutes everything.

I noticed that I've put in two water references, and I think it fitting. After all, in the opening we get the hint that Watson is writing The Final Problem, which for you non-Holmesian readers (and I suspect the majority of those watching the screening I attended were), is the story where Sherlock Holmes meets his end at the Reichenbach Falls, taking Professor Moriarty with him.

In this case, I don't necessary object to the sequel they are so nakedly (or should I say, Fry-ingly) announcing. After all, The Adventure of the Empty House, the Sherlock Holmes story that basically 'resurrected' Holmes from the dead, starts out from the ending of The Final Problem (which I figure the Mulroneys used as a basis for A Game of Shadows).

In terms of The Canon, it makes sense. In terms of finance for more Sherlock Holmes films, it makes sense. In terms of A Game of Shadows, it makes no sense because the film made one important and vital change from The Final Problem. In the latter, Watson did not actually witness Holmes' final battle with his arch nemesis. In the former, he most certainly did. Tricky thing this.

A Game of Shadows is just a way to ruin Sherlock Holmes' reputation among current film-goers who may never watch the Jeremy Brett series or the Basil Rathbone films (not having seen Sherlock, I'm in no position to say whether or not Moffat is destroying Sherlock Holmes the way he is determined to destroy Doctor Who, but now I digress). There is nothing in A Game of Shadows that is really Sherlock Holmes. It really Guy Ritchie adapting his signature fascination with the criminal underworld to a Victorian/Edwardian setting. A Game of Shadows in the end is SINO: Sherlock In Name Only.

1859-1930

This man was a great writer who created a great character. He deserves so much better and so do we.

DECISION: F

Who Said It Was A Bad Year?

2012-01-21T12:06:00.000-07:00

Yes, we've had some truly awful films this year. Some truly awful ones. However, we did have some good ones, and some good performances and craft-work in 2011. With that, I offer my nominees for the Best of 2011.

BEST VISUAL EFFECTS

Battle: Los Angeles
Hugo
Real Steel
Rise of Planet of the Apes

BEST SOUND EDITING

The Artist
Battle: Los Angeles
Captain America: The First Avenger
Thor
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

BEST SOUND MIXING

The Artist
Battle: Los Angeles
Captain America: The First Avenger
Thor
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

BEST MAKE-UP

Captain America: The First Avenger
Contagion
Insidious
The Iron Lady

BEST DOCUMENTARY FEATURE

Cave of Forgotten Dreams
If A Tree Fell: A Story of the Earth Liberation Front
The People vs. George Lucas
Senna
Undefeated

BEST FILM EDITING

Contagion
Drive
Jane Eyre
Senna
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

BEST ORIGINAL SONG

Star-Spangled Man (Captain America: The First Avenger) Music by Alan Menken, lyrics by David Zippel
Courageous (Courageous) Music & lyrics by Mark Hall and Matthew West
The Living Proof (The Help) Music by Mary J. Blige, Thomas Newman, and Harvey Mason, Jr.; lyrics by Mary J. Blige, Harvey Mason, Jr., and Damon Thomas
Life's a Happy Song (The Muppets) Music & lyrics by Bret McKenzie
Think We Can Wait (Win Win) Music & lyrics by Matt Berninger and Aaron Dessner

BEST ORIGINAL SCORE

The Artist (Ludovic Bource)
Drive (Cliff Martinez)
Hugo (Howard Shore)
Jane Eyre (Dario Marianelli)
Shame (Harry Escott)

BEST ART DIRECTION

Captain America: The First Avenger
Harry Potter & The Deathly Hallows Part II
The Help
Hugo
Jane Eyre

BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY

The Artist (Guillaume Schiffman)
Jane Eyre (Adriano Goldman)
Hugo (Robert Richardson)
Pariah (Bradford Young)
The Tree of Life (Emmanuel Lubezki)

BEST COSTUME DESIGN

The Help
Jane Eyre
Snow Flower & The Secret Fan
Thor
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY

The Devil's Double (Michael Thomas, based on The Devil's Double by Latif Yahia)
Drive (Hossein Amini, based on Drive by James Sallis)
The Help (Tate Taylor, based on The Help by Kathryn Stockett)
Jane Eyre (Moira Buffini, based on Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte)
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (Bridget O'Connor and Peter Straughan, based on Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy by John le Carré)

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY

The Artist (Michel Hazanavavicius)
Contagion (Scott Z. Burns)
Midnight in Paris (Woody Allen)
Pariah (Dee Rees)
Win Win (Tom McCarthy, screenplay; Tom McCarthy and Tim Tiboni, story)

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

Christopher Plummer (Beginners)
Alan Rickman (Harry Potter & The Deathly Hallows Part II)
Alex Shaffer (Win Win)
Kevin Spacey (Horrible Bosses)
Christopher Jordan Wallace (Everything Must Go)

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

Judi Dench (Jane Eyre)
Bryce Dallas Howard (The Help)
Melissa McCarthy (Bridesmaids)
Octavia Spencer (The Help)
Kim Wayans (Pariah)

BEST ACTRESS

Viola Davis (The Help)
Kirsten Dunst (Melancholia)
Adepero Oduye (Pariah)
Meryl Streep (The Iron Lady)
Mia Wasikowska (Jane Eyre)

BEST ACTOR

Damian Bachir (A Better Life)
Dominic Cooper (The Devil's Double)
Jean Dujardin (The Artist)
Michael Fassbender (Jane Eyre)
Gary Oldman (Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy)

BEST DIRECTOR

Woody Allen (Midnight In Paris)
Tomas Anderson (Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy)
Cary Joji Fukunaga (Jane Eyre)
Dee Rees (Pariah)
Martin Scorsese (Hugo)

BEST PICTURE

The Artist
The Help
Hugo
Jane Eyre
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

Now for the official count:

Jane Eyre: 11 nominations
The Help: 8 nominations
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy: 8 nominations
The Artist: 7 nominations
Hugo: 6 nominations
Captain America: The First Avenger: 5 nominations
Pariah: 5 nominations
Battle: Los Angeles: 3 nominations
Contagion: 3 nominations
Drive: 3 nominations
Thor: 3 nominations
Win Win: 3 nominations
The Devil's Double: 2 nominations
Harry Potter & The Deathly Hallows Part II: 2 nominations
The Iron Lady: 2 nominations
Midnight in Paris: 2 nominations
Senna: 2 nominations

A Better Life, Beginners, Bridesmaids, Courageous, Everything Must Go, Horrible Bosses, Insidious, Melancholia, The Muppets, Real Steel, Rise of Planet of the Apes, Shame, Snow Flower & The Secret Fan, The Tree of Life: 1 nomination

The Best Picture of 2011, in my view, is pretty much set. However, all the other categories are up for grabs. Even now I still go back and forth on some of them: thinking maybe this one should get it, then changing my mind. It will be clear to me before the Oscars are handed out, which is when I will announce my winners.

This list isn't going to be what I think who will win an Oscar in said category or even what will get nominated. More often than not, I disagree with the Academy and fighting them is a useless struggle.

These are MY nominees, MY choices for these categories based on what I have seen over the course of the year. The people and films nominated for their categories are the ones I think the best in their categories. I welcome input, but after thought I have come to the nominees I'm generally happy with.

It WAS A Bad Year: 2011 Edition

2012-01-21T00:04:00.001-07:00

I would be remiss if I didn't admit that in some respects, 2011 was a low point in film. We hope the mania about 3-D has finally died (and been buried). However, I fear that what I think is the Work of The Devil will still haunt us for at least another year. There will be more 3-D films, whether they need the enhancement or not. Just a way to get people to part with their money.

2011 is like all years in film: there were some good things, and there were some bad things. Let us now turn our sorry eyes to some particular low points. Here now, I present a list I doubt people will campaign to join. These are for all the films I've seen, not necessarily those that I've reviewed.

As I go over the Worst of 2011, I find that, unfortunately, I'm rather spoiled for choice. It was a long and drawn-out process to narrow it down to just 5 nominees (I'm old-school to the number of possibilities). Sometimes it was painful to cut a movie out because it really deserved to be listed. Still, I had to bring it down to just 5 per category.

I present the nominees for the Worst of 2011.

WORST MAKE-UP

Drive Angry
J. Edgar
Green Lantern
Priest

WORST VISUAL EFFECTS

Cowboys and Aliens
Dylan Dog: Dead of Night
Green Lantern
Sucker Punch
Transformers: Dark of the Moon

WORST FILM EDITING

Anonymous
The Green Hornet
Green Lantern
J. Edgar
The Tree of Life

WORST ORIGINAL SCORE

Beastly
Cowboys & Aliens
The Green Hornet
Green Lantern
Your Highness

WORST COSTUME DESIGN

Beastly
The Green Hornet
Green Lantern
Priest
Your Highness

WORST ART DIRECTION

Dylan Dog: Dead of Night
The Green Hornet
Green Lantern
Priest
Transformers: Dark of the Moon

WORST CINEMATOGRAPHY

Dylan Dog: Dead of Night
Green Lantern
I Melt With You
Sucker Punch
Transformers: Dark of the Moon

WORST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY

The Green Hornet (Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg)
Green Lantern (Greg Berlanti, Michael Green, Marc Guggenheim, and Michael Goldenberg screenplay, Greg Berlanti, Michael Green, Marc Guggenheim story)
The Hangover Part II (Craig Mazin, Scot Armstrong, and Todd Phillips screenplay, Jon Lucas and Scot Moore characters)
Something Borrowed (Jennie Snyder)
Transformers: Dark of the Moon (Ehren Kruger)

WORST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY

Courageous (Alex & Stephen Kendrick)
I Melt With You (Glen Porter)
Larry Crowne (Nia Vardalos)
Sanctum (John Garvin and Andrew Wight screenplay), Andrew Wight story)
The Tree of Life (Terrence Malick)

WORST DIRECTOR

Courageous (Alex Kendrick)
The Green Hornet (Michael Gondry)
Green Lantern (Martin Campbell)
The Hangover Part II (Todd Phillips)
The Tree of Life (Terrance Malick)

WORST SUPPORTING ACTOR

Patrick Dempsey (Transformers: Dark of the Moon)
Zach Galifianakis (The Hangover Part II)
Ioan Gruffud (Sanctum)
Nick Swardson (Just Go With It)
Christoph Waltz (The Green Hornet)

WORST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

Vanessa Hudgens (Sucker Punch)
Kate Hudson (Something Borrowed)
Bailee Madison (Just Go With It)
Angelita Nelson (Courageous)
Alice Parkinson (Sanctum)

WORST ACTOR

Shia LaBeauf (Transformers: Dark of the Moon)
Taylor Lautner (Abduction)
Ryan Reynolds (Green Lantern)
Seth Rogen (The Green Hornet)
Brandon Routh (Dylan Dog: Dead of Night)

WORST ACTRESS

Ginnefer Goodwin (Something Borrowed)
Vanessa Hudgens (Beastly)
Julia Roberts (Larry Crowne)
Natalie Portman (Your Highness)
Reese Witherspoon (Water For Elephants)

WORST PICTURE OF 2011

Abduction
The Green Hornet
Green Lantern
The Hangover Part II
I Melt With You

What is truly sad is that I am still not satisfied...it was clearly difficult to cut out certain people or films because they truly deserved to be listed. However, like all the films listed here, this is an imperfect list, and I did the best I could do. Your suggestions are always welcome, and before the Academy Awards are presented, I will make my final selections (although the Worst Picture of the Year should be obvious).

May you be forever spared these films...

Raise Your Glass To 2011

2012-01-19T22:01:00.000-07:00

Actually, I did manage to find more than Ten Best films of 2011. That being the case, I'm going to push it the Sixteen Best films of 2011. Is that cheating? Perhaps. It is a good sign that we managed to find enough good films to praise. It matches the number of awful films I found, so without further ado, let's pick out our Sixteen Best Films of 2011. Not all have been reviewed, but all have been seen.

#16
Fast Five

I have a reputation as a film snob. That, my friends, is a false image. I freely and openly confess that I am a HUGE fan of the Fast & Furious franchise (even the much-maligned Tokyo Drift). Fast Five knows what it is: cool cars, hot chicks, wild action. It is a film that seeks only to give me a good adrenaline rush, and I enjoy the mixture of elaborate heists and beautiful women and great cars.

Is it deep? No. Is it entertaining? Yes, Yes, and YES. Even better, I found the resolution to be remarkably logical, and while I know that there will be another Fast & Furious movie, it is a rare treat that I actually am looking forward to seeing another Fast & Furious film. There's something to be said about good, goofy fun.

#15
Insidious

If a film set out to give me a good scare, Insidious then should be counted as a smashing success. I don't get scared in movies, so I didn't jump during Insidious. However, I recognize that the audience was totally in the grips of the film, and they really were getting into the horror of the film.

What I found positive in Insidious is that it was scary without being overtly graphic. There wasn't the gory nature of other horror films (such as the Saw and/or Hostel series). Instead, it was mood, it was quick jumps that brought the terror in Insidious. I think it's acknowledged that the ending didn't work, lessening the impact of the film. However, if a good scare (one that might leave you awake at night) is what you're looking for, Insidious truly fits the bill.

#14
Contagion

I should say that the one thing I didn't believe in Contagion is the idea that a plague such as the one presented would have led to a total breakdown of society. However, in building suspense and tension as to the growing virus destroying the world, Contagion was wildly effective. This was a killer that could strike anywhere and almost anyone.

Again, there was a logic to how the plague spread, and how such a crisis brought out the best and worst in people. Some were heroic, some were self-serving, some were a mixture of both. Again, here the ending was a touch too much, almost a slam against industry that didn't need to go that way by making the whole thing ironic. However, with its great cast, its strong story and directing, and the great score, Contagion worked on almost every level.

#13
Drive

One of the best things about Contagion (the score) was also one of the best things about Drive. No surprise given that it had the same composer (Cliff Martinez). As much as I might ridicule avant-garde actor Ryan Gosling (namely by referring to him as 'avant-garde actor Ryan Gosling' for his penchant to be in films that are dark and edgy and get away from being a former Mouseketeer), he is a great actor. Drive is proof enough. It's difficult to do what avant-garde actor Gosling did: to express so much by being so quiet, but his character is so opaque that he doesn't even have a name. This blankness is really all there is to him, a hollow man who passes no view on the morality of his actions.

That is, until he meets someone who might break through his emotional walls. Oddly, it isn't strictly the woman, but her child. It isn't a surprise to see that 'one last job' go wildly wrong, but Drive has an intense story and made an intellectual feature: it's The Fast & The Furious for the intellectual set. Throw in a villainous turn by comic Albert Brooks (showing there's more to him than intellectual humor), and you have a fine, well-acted, and remarkably exciting cross of action and thought.

#12
Win Win

The family drama involving a troubled teen can be hokey and maudlin, but Win Win manages to skirt that by giving all the characters relatable flaws. Even though Paul Giamatti's character does unethical things, we don't see him as a villain. You also have a great performance from Alex Shaffer as the taciturn teen who, minus his troubled upbringing, is in many ways an average teen.

Win Win kept a good balance between the human comedy of how the characters behaved towards each other and in their actions with a tender story of people learning from their mistakes. My favorite moment is really a small one. Shaffer's Kyle is about to leave, knowing how Mike has used his grandfather to get some cash. Amy Ryan's character (Mike's wife) starts to leave, only to stop and tell Kyle that they love him. Any other movie would have made it a big moment, overblown with sentimentality. Instead, because it was so short and direct, it made it all so real.

#11
Horrible Bosses

In a year that had a cavalcade of lousy comedies that dulled your brain (Just Go With It, Larry Crowne, The Change-Up, The Hangover Part II), it was good to see a comedy that actually was funny and that even worked (no pun intended). Horrible Bosses was something that people could relate to (up to a point), but by making everything so exaggerated they could get away with it.

What made Horrible Bosses funnier than all the other comedies this year is that all the characters were amazingly idiotic or insane, so we always knew that despite their best efforts, they were all going to fail spectacularly. Moreover, there was a logic to the plot (albeit a ridiculous one), and some wild turns that made sense but still brought out laughter. Granted, there was a touch too much bathroom humor, but unfortunately that is par for the course today. However, hearing that there will be a Horrible Bosses II (or 2 if you like) has me extremely worried: sometimes, it's best to leave a good thing alone.

I can't believe we are not at the Top Ten Film of 2011. Well, here we go.

#10
Captain America: The First Avenger

This was a year where we had many films based on comic book characters. Some were truly atrocious (Green Lantern), some were good but in my view overrated (X-Men: First Class, Thor), and then there was Captain America (full title, Captain America: The First Avenger, in order to signal there would be more Captain America films and to not upset those who wouldn't like a shamelessly patriotic character). What then made Captain America the best comic book adaptation of 2011?

Well, the fact that it knew what it was: a comic book movie. It went against the grain of most present-day comic book adaptations in that its lead wasn't dark, brooding, highly troubled. Steve Rogers was actually eager to do something for his country. There was an optimism to Captain America. The villain was clear-cut with no moral shadings. Finally, the film was openly and unabashedly fun. No great moral crisis, no depression. It had action, it had romance, it even did something up to now seemingly impossible: it made Chris Evans actually act! That in itself is a miracle. The ending didn't work for me: it was a tie-in to the massive Avengers this year, but minus that, Captain America worked...and it has a damn catchy song in Star-Spangled Man.

#9
Midnight In Paris

Woody, it's so nice to have you back where you belong. One had worried whether the Woodster had anything left in him. Trust him to turn nostalgia into box office gold...and an actual comedy. Midnight in Paris was a return to form for Woody Allen, who showed that he could still have an inventive idea or two rattling in his mind.

Owen Wilson would appear to be a good faux-Woody, but his nasal twang and slightly dim persona actually made the performance all the more better as the man who yearns for the Lost Generation of Hemingway and Fitzgerald, manages to actually find it, only to discover the past isn't how one remembers it. I could have done without the stereotypical shrill fiancee and her boorish parents (Allen may not be the best person to take moral stands against others...just a hint), but at its heart Midnight in Paris is a nostalgic trip that reminds us nostalgia is not clear-cut.

Finally, I should point out that in smaller roles we can see just how good some actors can be: Adrien Brody as Salvador Dalí, Kathy Bates as Gertrude Stein, and especially Tom Hiddleton (Loki himself!) as F. Scott Fitzgerald. That kid has a bright future ahead of him.

#8
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

I've heard a lot of nonsense about, "it's too complicated; it's too confusing; you won't understand it". To that I say...damn balderdash! I'm hardly a high intellectual, but I didn't have a hard time following the plot. The same was said about Inception, and frankly I understood everything going on (even if the open-ending didn't please the audience I was with, but now I digress).

For those still concerned that Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy may be too opaque to follow, I offer this: it's an intellectual spy thriller, and espionage isn't suppose to be obvious. In the same way avant-garde actor Ryan Gosling said so much by saying/doing so little, so does Gary Oldman (in one of his greatest screen performances) tell us so much about George Smiley with his perfectly controlled performance. Tinker Tailor is a smorgasbord of brilliant screen actors: John Hurt, Benedict Cumberbatch, Toby Jones, Mark Strong, Tom Hardy, and Colin Firth, all doing their best to show who is boss (and the younger ones like Hardy and especially Cumberbatch--one to keep your eye on-- keeping up with some of the very best). There isn't a false note, one off performance within the film.

I am aware that there were more Smiley stories from John Le Carré, and while Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy ends with the faintest suggestion that there might be a sequel, this may be the first time I don't object to seeing more of The Circus.

#7
If A Tree Falls: A Story of the Earth Liberation Front

This documentary is one that thoroughly snuck up on me. As I watched it, I thought the story of the rise and fall of the environment group the Earth Liberation Front became a deeply personal story of one man: Daniel McGowan. His story was a sad one: young man with a good heart gets radicalized (in his mind, for the good cause of saving the planet), and becomes emeshed in a group that destroys private property. The group itself begins to become too radical, but the government brings it down before acts of vandalism and arson become acts of actual violence.

As the days and weeks went, If A Tree Falls continued to grow on me (no pun intended). I was haunted by the story, and especially McGowan, who seemed to be a genuinely nice person who just got himself into something wrong, perhaps with the best of intentions but which still brought a lot of fear and destruction. However, the film had me asking things about myself. My reaction to what happened to protesters in Oregon at the hands of the police appalled me, but then again, so did the protester's acts in Seattle. A great thing about If A Tree Falls is that it doesn't attempt to rationalize or lionize the actions of the ELF: we get to hear from the investigators (shown to be the efficient people they are) and those whose lumber mills were attacked (not the greedy monsters the ELF and their sympathizers paint them as).

At its heart, If A Tree Falls is about knowing people like McGowan and seeing him not as a monstrous, evil terrorist, but as merely a man, no different than you or me save for his actions. We at the end of If A Tree Falls have to ask if McGowan really is on the same level as an al-Qaeda or Taliban member. Damn but that I ended up liking McGowan (even if I fiercely reject and condemn his work with the ELF). If I were to ever take some sort of political stance, it would be for a Presidential pardon for Daniel McGowan...

#6
The Help

Another film that snuck up on me despite all my instincts. I didn't want to like The Help: I have a reaction against sweet stories of people overcoming. However, it is so difficult not to get emotional when Viola Davis' Aibileen tells you about the death of her only son. With just her voice, her face, it all but has you overwhelmed with tears.

The Help has the benefit of great performances: not just from Davis, but Octavia Spenser as the bold Minny, Bryce Dallas Howard as the malicious Miss Hilly, and It-Girl Jessica Chastain as the naive/ignorant white trash Miss Celia. Frankly, I didn't care one bit for Emma Stone's main character of Skeeter (I found her irritating and had no interest in her story: love or otherwise). However, I think it is important in the Age of Obama to remember it wasn't all that long ago when blacks were legally kept down, and that it did take courage to start to stand up and say, "I Am Somebody".

And a bit of pie never hurt either...

#5
Pariah

I didn't think that Pariah would be as good as it was, given how it touches a lot of what Precious took on: a young black woman in New York coming to her own. However, unlike Precious, Pariah had an added hurdle: she wasn't just coming to her own, she was coming out.

Alike (pronounced A-Lee-Kay) has a remarkably difficult journey: not just to acknowledge her homosexuality to her parents, or even to herself, but to find out exactly who she is. When she's with her butch friends, she is masculine in her attire and manner (even going by Lee). With her family, she is more feminine (even if her parents can't admit to themselves the truth they already know). Alike has the burden of first love and first love lost, but at the end, she finds out that she doesn't have to fit either image put before her. She is herself, and her journey is about to start. Her final poem about being broken, being open, being free...it's simply some of the most beautiful dialogue I've heard all year.

#4
The Artist

My little film-loving heart thrills at the phrase, "one of the best films of 2011 is a silent film". Technically, The Artist ISN'T an all-silent film: there is some sound (including when we get to hear Jean Dujardin's obvious French accent). However, The Artist proves what I have long argued about silent film in general: it is a beautiful thing, it isn't full of exagerrated acting, and the lack of dialogue is hardly missed.

The Artist has so much going for it: proof of how acting, true acting, doesn't need translations, the joy of films, that we can overlook some of its flaws (in particular the use of the Love Theme from Vertigo). I don't know how good Mr. Dujardin or Miss Berenice Bejo's English is (the former from France, the latter from Argentina), but what you see on the screen is undeniable: great performances speak for themselves.

#3
Hugo

If I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have believed it: a 3-D children's movie...by Martin Scorsese. This is Martin Scorsese: the guy from Mean Streets, Raging Bull, Goodfellas, The Departed. His bread and butter is the chronicling of the underbelly of society, so how he'd make a 3-D children's movie?

Here's how: he's Martin Scorsese--genius. He also is Martin Scorsese: unabashed film enthusiast. Hugo is a love letter to the early days of cinema, where it was done by literal magicians (such as French film pioneer Georges Mélies. The loving recreation of Mélies' studio and films are a tribute by one brilliant filmmaker to another. We also couldn't help notice how Scorsese introduced the importance of film preservation into the story (and do it so well).

Yes, it is amazing to see a man best know for gritty images of the criminal underworld give us such a lovely portrait of youth and childhood innocence, but really, what can't Scorsese NOT do? Hugo has the added bonus of being (with the possible exception of Avatar) the only 3-D film where the 3-D didn't interfere with the story or appear out of place. There wasn't any 'thrusting out to the audience' images...instead, for me, the most beautiful and brilliant 3-D image will be of a snowy Parisian night...

#2
Senna

I would never have thought that a documentary about a Formula One driver would have been not only so compelling, but so thrilling and ultimately so moving. I figure there are thousands if not millions of Americans (even sports buffs) who have never heard of Ayrton Senna, but Senna is something that does what appears as impossible as one of his races: moves you emotionally.

Documentaries can be a hard sell, but Senna makes brilliant use of the thousands of hours of archival footage (even when we see our hero with Xuxa: the most voluptuous of children's television hosts) to make his life story a remarkable journey: both of Ayrton's soul and his races. Soon, we thoroughly forget we're watching a documentary because we get caught up in the thrill of the race, the antagonism with Senna's racing rivals, his passion for his beloved Brazil and her people, and finally the great heartbreak of his death.

It is a sign of Senna's brilliance that it never feels like anything other than a real movie: we never see it as a dry recitation of facts. It helps that Ayrton Senna's life was never dry. While a feature film of his life is possible (I imagine Zachary Levi or Andrew Garfield would make strong candidates), it might not be believed that such a man could have achieved what Ayrton Senna achieved. Senna, the documentary, may simply be too good to be remade as a feature.

And now...my choice for the Best Picture of 2011...

#1
Jane Eyre

Few movies have stayed with me, continued deep in my memory, as Jane Eyre. I saw this movie in April, and nearly a year later, I still get swept away into its romantic, brooding, Gothic story. Jane Eyre still haunts me, still moves me, still remains in my memory, dazzling me with its sweeping romance.

While Michael Fassbender is causing my fellow critics to masturbate over his role in Shame (perhaps literally--I have no way of knowing their predilections), I still argue that was not his best performance this year. Perhaps Fassbender, or as I lovingly call him: Fassie Bare-All, will earn a Best Actor Oscar nomination for Shame; however, I predict he WILL NOT WIN.

How do I know? Well, first, his competition will be fierce (I suspect Gary Oldman will be in the running for his first-ever nomination for Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, and Jean Dujardin will have older voters enchanted for his silent turn in The Artist). Second, and most important: said older Academy members WILL NEVER VOTE for a guy who is seeing totally naked on screen. I argued that many Academy members would never countenance seeing a clip of Fassbender jerking off in a montage with other Best Actor winners like James Stewart, Clark Gable, Laurence Olivier, or Colin Firth. Yes, I'm sure they won't actually have a clip of him masturbating on screen (or getting a blow job from some random guy at a gay bar), but despite Hollywood's reputation there is a strong conservative element inside the Academy itself. After all, there were some Academy members who wouldn't even watch Brokeback Mountain because of the 'gay cowboy sex', let alone vote it Best Picture (hence, Crash).

However, when it comes to Fassie we are rather spoiled for choice: not only was he the sex addict in Shame, he also reinvigorated the mutant Magneto in X-Men: First Class (which I wasn't crazy about), the kinky Carl Jung in A Dangerous Method (which I've yet to see), and the mysterious, romantic, brooding Mr. Rochester in Jane Eyre. For my money, it was the latter that was his best performance.

I don't normally say this about another man, but damn it's true: Michael Fassbender was SO DREAMY!

Actually, the real revelation in Jane Eyre is my secret love: Mia Wasikowska. She was the perfect California teen in The Kids Are All Right (overrated), and when she took on our heroine, I thought, 'oh, she's British and can do a good American accent'. Then I find she's actually Australian, and decide then and there that she is our generation's Meryl Streep. I don't think I was ever as overwhelmed by a performance as I was with Wasikowska. Even in films I don't like (Alice in Wonderland, for example), I cannot help but admire and love Mia Wasikowska for her extraordinary range.

Throw in great performances from Dame Judi Dench (Brother Gabe's secret love...inside joke), and even Billy Elliot himself, Jamie Bell, and one of the best adaptations of a literary work becomes the film I went absolutely mad for (almost mad enough to put me in the attic). I was totally wrapped in the film at the onset and when it was over, I truly wanted more. I confess to never having read the book, but if it's as good as the movie, it deserves its reputation as a literary classic.

When Mr. Rochester tells Jane, "you transfix me quite", I could have said the same about Jane Eyre: my choice for the Best Picture of 2011.

It Is The Best of Films. It Is The Worst Of Films.

2012-01-18T06:21:00.001-07:00

THE BIRTH OF A NATION

How can one judge The Birth of A Nation? On the one hand, it is a brilliant film: a mighty spectacle where all the elements of what is now known as film-making came together, the first true motion picture. On the other hand, it's a gigantic pile of shit, filled with the most disgusting imagery any movie has ever shown this side of a snuff film. Nothing makes up for the horrific premise or the portrayal of the black characters in this Ode To Bigotry. However, The Birth of A Nation signaled the Birth of Cinema as a true art form. It's a yin and yang situation, but in a larger sense the film still not only has the power to inflame (a remarkable achievement for a movie close to a hundred years old) but it's one from which we can draw all kinds of lessons about art, propaganda, and public tastes.

The Birth of A Nation covers the period just before the Civil War, the war itself, and the early days of Reconstruction as seen through the lives of two families: one Northern, one Southern. The Northern family is the Stonemans: Congressman Austin Stoneman(Ralph Lewis), his sons Phil (Elmer Clifton), and Tod (Robert Harron) and his daughter Elise (Lillian Gish). The Southern family is the Camerons: "kindly Master Cameron" (Spottiswoode Aitken), his wife (Josephine Crowell), and their large family. The three sons from youngest to oldest: Duke (Maxfield Stanley), Wade (George Beranger), and Ben (Henry Walthall), and their two daughters Margaret (Miriam Cooper) and Flora (Mae Marsh). The Stonemans, in particular Congressman Stoneman, are firm abolitionists, while the Camerons are benevolent slaveholders. However, the younger generation are friends. In short supply, while visiting the Camerons Phil falls in love with Margaret while Ben becomes enamoured of Elsie.

Now, the war commences. In a sad twist, Phil and Duke end up taking each other's lives in battle, while Wade dies after the fall of Atlanta. Ben is nearly killed at Petersberg, but Phil, recognizing his friend, saves him and sends him to a hospital in Washington, where Elsie is a nurse. A relationship begins between them, but Ben is to be hanged for treason. Only the personal intervention of President Lincoln (Joseph Henabery) with a distraught Mrs. Cameron and Elsie pleading his case prevents this. The war ends, and Ben returns to a ruined home. Lincoln is assassinated, and the Radicals take over.

Reconstruction begins, and with it a reign of terror where the blacks now rule the whites. Congressman Stoneman's protege is Silas Lynch (George Seigmann), a mulatto who has secret aspirations of a Black Empire to rule over the Southern whites. With Stoneman's help, Lynch now has blacks in the South Carolina House of Representatives and impose their will. Ben is offended by how they rule, so now he is inspired to create a new organization where they can take their stand against this oppressive regime: the Ku Klux Klan. Stoneman comes to South Carolina to inspect the work, and the romance between Elise and Ben resumes, while Phil is rebuffed by a bitter Margaret. However, things take an ugly turn: Flora becomes the object of lust by simple Negro Gus (Walter Long), and now with Lynch as Lieutenant Governor, decides he has the right to a white woman. Flora commits suicide by jumping to her death rather than bear the shame of miscegenation. Now is the time to strike at Lynch, and Ben rallies his KKK to fight for a just cause.

Lynch now goes too far, demanding he marry Elsie. Even Congressman Stoneman believes this to be wrong, but is held hostage. The Camerons, having fled their home for their own safety, hide out at a tiny cabin of former Union soldiers, now united in their need to preserve their "Aryan birthright". The Klan rides to the rescue, first to Lynch's mansion, then in an epic race to the cabin. With the White Power triumphant, the Klan ensures the blacks know their place. The Birth of A Nation ends with an epilogue where Christ at last ends all wars.

Again, The Birth of A Nation really is two films; one is a great leap forward in how a film is put together, where we can see the symbolic birth of cinema as an art form, where a narrative can be told in a thrilling and brilliant matter. The other is a vile and now cringe-inducing series of images that are so jarring to our eyes (and I imagine, to many eyes in 1915) that it's highly uncomfortable at the very least to watch.

If we focus on the positive, on the monumental achievement D.W. Griffith brought with The Birth of A Nation, we can see just how important and powerful the film is. Griffith created in the film some truly powerful moments and fully used the ability of film to take you beyond what was on the screen to create an emotional impact. Take the interaction between Elsie and Ben. Ben holds a dove in his hands and they both caress and kiss it lightly, and in that Ben "accidentally" brushes his cheek up to Elsie. There is a tenderness there that appears so effortless, a credit to both Griffith as director and Gish and Walthall as actors.

In particular, one highlights Lillian Gish, who was luminous and who communicated a great deal with just her face. Granted, some of the acting, such as Seigmann as the wicked mulatto Lynch, were on the broad side, and even Gish did appeared slightly exaggerated to our 21st Century eyes, but on the whole Griffith directed the actors to a more natural manner of behavior that was also a leap forward in how screen acting had to be tamed from the broader theatrical manner.

The Birth of A Nation has many such moments, highlight by the brilliant and then-revolutionary editing. It is hard not to react emotionally to when the younger Stoneman and Cameron brothers meet one last time on the battlefield, thus keeping their promise to reunite but not in the way they intended. We also see a beautiful moment when Mrs. Cameron has had her only surviving son spared by order of The President. Lincoln, all stoic yet caring, has just signed Colonel Cameron's release. WE see Mrs. Cameron hesitate and then come close to embracing the President in a motherly embrace of thanks, only to hesitate and decide it is not dignified while Lincoln is thoroughly unaware: all the action taking place behind his back. The audience reacts emotionally, and Griffith, in his genius, gives us a human moment within the larger scope of the Civil War.

This is one of the things that makes The Birth of A Nation perhaps the first true feature film: a mixing of the epic with the intimate. Again and again, by putting the larger struggle of America's most brutal war within the scope of two families, we are reminded of the human cost. Griffith understood that by intercutting between two places within the same time frame he could create that emotional reaction with an audience. I think the best example of this is when Colonel Cameron is at the battle of Petersburg. As the epic battle ranges on, Griffith cuts to the remaining Cameron family members, deep in prayer for the last son, before going back to the vast battlefield. This is the first time in film where we leave a scene for somewhere else for no other reason than to have a human moment, to have that emotional connection. It is a brilliant moment.

We also see how Griffith was pushing cinema to be a true art form in technical matters. The ball at the Cameron plantation Piedmont has sweeping camera work, while the bonfires around town intercut with the jubilant dancers sets and builds on the mood of celebration at the war's onset. The filming of the battle at Petersburg, with a mix of wide angles and close-ups, has almost a documentary-like feel to it. The climatic race of the Ku Klux Klan to rescue the Camerons trapped by Lynch's troops, taking us between the people inside the cabin as the siege intensifies and the riders racing towards them has an extraordinary pacing where an audience can get caught up in the thrill of whether the "Aryans" will be rescued from the crazed Negro mob.

Now we come to the rub, a terrible stain on a brilliant and revolutionary production. The images of African-Americans in The Birth of A Nation aren't altogether shocking given the time it was made and its setting. I doubt any Anglo director, even the most progressive at the turn of the century, would have made the black characters noble or intelligent. However, The Birth of A Nation appears to go out of its way to make the black and mixed-race characters as vile, grotesque, stupid, and rapacious as possible. A particularly notorious scene is when the South Carolina House of Representatives with a majority-black membership meets. We are treated to scenes of inept black idiots: representatives drinking, eating chicken, even taking their shoes off and putting their bare feet on their desks. Griffith is clearly stating that blacks were not fit to rule themselves, let alone the "noble white race". He also has the stereotypical imagery of happy Negroes working for their 'kindly massa', dancing for joy before them (a later dance number with someone eating watermelon is just shuddering).

There is a brief scene of when African-Americans are first allowed to vote, and we see the black voter grin wildly while he stuffs a second ballot in the box while the African-American observer nods approval. Somehow, this to me was another moment where Griffith was not only painting with a wide brush, but feeding into stereotypes of the 'duplicitous Negro'. It's almost as if he couldn't stop himself.

Even if we could put the portrayal of African-Americans as buffoons aside (a tall order to be sure), it is the imagery of blacks as dangerous and sexually wanton (in particular towards white women) that is the most jarring and vicious by any standard. In particular it is how both the characters of Gus and Silas Lynch are desirous of white women and are so overcome with lust that they literally pursue one to her death that only feeds to the idea of the dangers of miscegenation.

If I'm allowed a small digression, there doesn't appear to be any thought that both Silas and Congressman Stoneman's housekeeper Lydia (where there are strong suggestions that she is also his mistress) are themselves mixed-race, so why would there be any idea that further mixing between black and whites would be worse when we already have two mulatto characters? I can answer that: both Lynch and Lydia are shown as villainous in their ideas of being "equal" to whites, so this I suspect is both Griffith's and co-writer Frank E. Woods (basing it on Thomas F. Dixon's none-too-subtle book and play, The Clansman: A Historical Romance of the Ku Klux Klan) attempting to suggest that race-mixing is dangerous at best.

Having all the black and mulatto characters played by white actors in blackface (some obviously so) only makes it more insulting. Granted, I doubt any black actor would have appeared in anything so demeaning, but somehow having clearly white people playing these "evil" black characters makes things even worse. Holding the black characters who stay loyal to their white overlords to be the noble souls while those who "don't know their place" be thoroughly irredeemable only adds fuel to the fire.

I couldn't help think that the siege of the cabin where the crazed mob was attacking the noble Aryans was reminiscent of the story of Lot in Sodom from the book of Genesis. Whether this was the intent or not I have no way of knowing. That's just a thought.

Somehow, I can't help think that if Griffith (a Son of the South) had focused more on the Stoneman/Cameron stories and less on the rise of the Ku Klux Klan The Birth of A Nation would have been easier to watch. Once we get into Reconstruction that's when the film in terms of story all but collapses (much like the South itself). As it stands, we have the film as it is: a mixture of brilliant filmmaking and awful storytelling. At least in that respect, The Birth of A Nation appears to have set the precedent for so many future American productions.

In all seriousness, The Birth of A Nation is a brilliant film in terms of structure, of editing, of storytelling. It is difficult to watch because it goes so wildly overboard in trying to make the case of the rapacious blacks overwhelming the pure whites and of the nobility of a terrorist organization like the Ku Klux Klan. It's really a split decision when it comes to The Birth of a Nation. In terms of cinema, the film is one of the most important ones ever made. We get what we understand as a 'movie' from it, and therefore it deserves to be ranked as one of the greats. In terms of the images themselves, now we look and cannot fathom how anyone didn't think they would be upsetting to say the least. However, to deny The Birth of A Nation its place as one of the greatest films because it was so groundbreaking would be to deny history. The Birth of A Nation can be considered the birth of cinema, but its achievements are tainted with the stain of Intolerance.

DECISION: A+ (the film)
DECISION: F (the content)

Betty White, Betty Good

2012-01-17T00:02:00.051-07:00

That's Right: She's A Cougar Extraordinare!

First, a bit of housekeeping. People keep asking why I refer to her as THE Betty White rather than just as Betty White. The answer is simple: she isn't just plain Betty White. She is a legend, an icon, a sign of hope in our troubled times. She can't therefore be just Betty White. She has to be THE Betty White. It's just a bit of a joke, something to make me laugh. Frankly, I do it simply because it amuses me.

What IS it about this old lady that has all America loving her so? America has gone Bananas for Betty (to quote a title from Ugly Betty). I recall that last year, on her 89th Birthday, I spoke about how The Betty White basically is in on the joke: here's this old broad who knows she is playing against her sweet persona. She's the feisty, sassy, saucy grandmother, but there has to be something more than that.

White is really a good actress. Her seven competitive Emmy Awards (and twenty lifetime nominations) testify to that, and look at how she's managed to create not one but two iconic characters worlds apart from each other.

The first is as the villainous Sue Ann Nivens: The Happy Homemaker. She was far from a sweet doyenne. She was the Martha Stewart of her time: ruthless, capricious, and spiteful. She was also a shameless hussy, what we would call a man-hungry whore, forever attempting to seduce Lou Grant. Sue Ann was shrewd and shrewish, one who hid behind her demure public appearance to plot out new schemes to get her way. She was delightful in her wickedness.

Those used to the wicked Sue Ann did a double take when we got Rose Nylund from St. Olaf, Minnesota (the town fellow Golden Girl character Dorothy Zbornak described as 'the cradle of idiocy'). Her Rose was endearing and genuinely sweet, but it should be pointed out Rose was not stupid, she was just permanently naive. As another Golden Girl, Sophia Patrillo pointed out, Rose "isn't a fool, she's a simpleton".

The genuine talent, I daresay genius of Rose Nylund is that she could ramble on about how whatever was going on in their lives related to something that happened "back in St. Olaf" while making it the most natural thing in the world. There was a genuine kindness and naivete in Rose, which made the moments she was direct, even ruthless, all the more amusing. Rose as a character had one major defect: a vicious competitive streak that made her take no prisoners whenever she was in a competition. This was a good touch: it humanized her character and made her more relatable.

I also should point out that Rose had some dramatic turns, usually dealing with the character's health. We can see the talent of The Betty White in how easily she can shift from broad, silly comedy to deep tenderness.

The Betty White truly is talented as an actress, one who can play comedy and drama with equal abilities. However, we should be honest.

Here is where The Betty White leaped over from talented and respected television actress into cultural phenomenon. Again, this is her knowing she is playing her own screen persona for laughs. Under normal circumstance, seeing a then-88 year old woman tackled wouldn't have been funny. However, given the fact that it's Betty White, even to where the character is "playing like Betty White out there" (along with 'Betty White's' snippy remark) only makes the scene funnier.

Again, SHE IS IN ON THE JOKE. In fact, she appears to push the joke. It's also a sign of her zeitgeist that these young guys would know who The Betty White is, enough to say one of their own is playing football like her.

From here, all things flowed, in particular her appearance on Saturday Night Live. By continuously playing against her image as the sweet grandmama to America The Betty White makes things all the more funnier.

Again, another twist in her sweet image. The curious thing about Hot In Cleveland is that The Betty White was only suppose to be a guest star in the pilot. She made it clear she was simply too busy to do a weekly series. Yet there she was, becoming the lynchpin of this ensemble.

Here is something I don't think has been commented on enough: just how fortunate The Betty White has been to be part of THREE talented casts. She has been on The Mary Tyler Moore Show, The Golden Girls, and now Hot In Cleveland, and in each of them she was A star, not THE star. It is her generosity in working with such a cavalcade of stars that makes her a true legend. Even when guest starring, be it Saturday Night Live or Boston Legal, The Betty White still manages to shine without outshining everyone else.

Now that she's reached her 90th Birthday, it's time we pause to really assess just how important The Betty White is to television and popular American culture itself. She's been on television almost since the beginning. She has broken barriers for women. She is just a good actress.

With that, I take great pride in wishing A Happy 90th Birthday to The Betty White.

Give Her a Kennedy Center Honor...or else!

Here Comes The Slam 2011

2012-01-16T18:00:00.003-07:00

Counting down the Sixteen Worst Films of 2011 shouldn't be so hard, except that it is. It's not hard finding more than sixteen lousy features...it's narrowing it down that's the difficult part. I suppose that is why I have sixteen Worst Films of 2011.

At first, it was just ten, then it went up to twelve, then fifteen, and finally sixteen. Why sixteen in particular? Well, it just worked out that way. Now, some of these films I have yet to review, but I have seen them all. With that, let us begin.

#16
Dylan Dog: Dead of Night

Bringing up the rear is this failed effort to start a franchise that mixes horror and comedy with a faux-epic storyline. I've always found films with colons to be a sign that they are the first of a hoped-for series, and Dylan Dog: Dead of Night is no exception to this rule. We had a terrible series of blunders with this film: voice-over narration that spelled out everything for you, a curiously dead lead (Brandon Routh looked as though he were a waxwork attempting to come to life), lousy special effects and a story that could never decide if it we were to be scared or amused.

I have a feeling that Sam Huntington (one of the few good things both here and in his previous teaming with Routh, Superman Returns), will find more and better things to do in the American version of Being Human. However, all my thoughts about Routh not being to blame for the failure of Superman Returns are now in serious question after Dylan Dog. Despite its hopes, there will not be more Dog tales.

#15
Arthur

How would YOU like to wake up with that grinning face staring back at you? Katy Perry, silly girl, now at least is spared that. Some of us, however, we're spared this blunder of a remake. The original Arthur, I think, is a classic: a light film where our lead was an alcoholic, but at least one whose heart was in the right place. Why people feel compelled to remake good films is a mystery to me. It's one thing to remake bad films in an effort to make them better is one thing, but the original Arthur is already so well-established there was no need to see another version of it.

Russell Brand, I'm told, is both an amazing lover and a 'comedic genius'. His face belies the first (if I were a woman or gay I couldn't stomach having to be near him, let alone be naked with him), and Arthur belies the second. I'm sure people thought that changing Hobson's gender from valet to nanny was a bright idea, but while it made sense for a man to have a manservant, it made no sense for a 30+ year old have a nanny "wash his winkie". Arthur, the character, was shrill, vain, and perhaps clinically insane. There was nothing endearing or lovable about him, and every decision of his, be it to fall in love or even go to AA, made him and his enablers around him look either stupid or insane.

#14
Just Go With It

What can one say about a comedy where you actually cheer when a little girl falls face-first in the mud because she's a horrid little intolerable creature? Adam Sandler now has the market on comedies that appear to lower the IQ of all who watch it, and I know he has a core fanbase (I figure of teenage boys and those who think like them), but this remake of Cactus Flower has nothing going for it.

All the characters are amazingly stupid, the children mean to where you wanted them to suffer (hence my cheer when the female child fell into mud), and even that could have been tolerated, if not for the sudden lurches into sentimentality. Somehow, in some time, Sandler will have to accept that he's well into middle age, and that women almost old enough to be his daughter will not be flocking to his bed. Granted, we had the benefit of seeing both Brooklyn Decker and Jennifer Aniston show us how attractive they are, but that isn't enough to make these dim characters ones we want to spend any time with, let alone go to Hawai'i with.

#13
Your Highness

After his disastrous turn as co-host of the Academy Awards, James Franco should have stayed away from appearing in a film that was a pun on marijuana use (even if A.) he states he was perfectly sober at the ceremony, and B.) I didn't get the pun until it was explained to me). After her triumph at the same Academy Awards, Natalie Portman should have gone for more intelligent fare. Yet here we are with Your Highness, where we have another "comedic genius" showing us he is neither. That "comedic genius" would be Danny McBride. Now, I should state I have yet to see an episode of Eastbound and Down, so I have no real way of dismissing McBride's "genius", but having seen Your Highness and 30 Minutes or Less, I figure his 'genius' consists mostly of pot jokes.

I know what they were going for: a spoof of medieval epics. Certainly they at least understood the conventions of the genre: damsels in distress, the noble warrior to rescue said damsel, the evil wizard. However, by focusing so much on pot and sex jokes (I still cringe at the suggestion of someone masturbating a puppet not unlike Yoda) with a lead that we neither care for or want to be around, Your Highness was just lazy and stupid...not unlike the end results of actual pot-smoking.

#12
Sanctum

Again, another film where you WANT the characters to suffer, if not actually die. My only clear memory of this unnecessary and forgettable film is, as my dear Brother Gabe said, of Mr. Fantastic squealing like a little girl. Every cliche in film was hit on: angry son, gruff dad, spoiled rich people, all trapped in what is suppose to be a dangerous situation. However, we only got the sense that these people were in said dangerous situation only due to their own collective stupidity.

I thought the underwater footage was beautiful to look at, but everything else in the film was horrible to watch. There is simply no excuse for such awful acting among a group of people paid far more than I am to perform so badly. Sanctum was going for a Poseidon Adventure-style set of thrills, but unlike that film, Sanctum never established why we should care about who lives or who dies (even though we should know who lives and who dies long before the movie's over). Bad story, bad acting, bad film.

#11
Larry Crowne

If you want to know why and how a film starring two-time Academy Award winner (and Mr. Lovable All-American) Tom Hanks and fellow Oscar winner (forever Pretty Woman) Julia Robers bombed at the box office, I offer a few answers. One, is the screenplay, co-written by Hanks and his GREEK goddess, Oscar nominee Nia Vardalos. Somehow, a whimsical tale of downsizing during this recession doesn't resonate amongst the 99% (even if 1 Percenters Hanks and Roberts are on our side and demand to be taxed more).

Two, the people in Larry Crowne, the film. Larry Crowne, the character, tries to be endearing, but in the end he just comes off as idiotically chipper if not downright imbecilic. His cohorts, from Roberts' jaded college professor to his fellow classmates, are also hampered by trying to be whimsical and cute and quirky without being realistic. Such a sunny disposition en masse can only irritate those of us who do genuinely fear losing our jobs and don't have a mansion to go back to. We the people, we the 99%, simply cannot relate to people who are so relentless sunny at all circumstances.

Third and finally, is the story itself. When we get efforts to be funny, they are illogical and almost mean. If one gets fired (which I have been more often than I care to remember), some of those firing me were crying. I don't remember them ever laughing to my face and being almost dismissive, but in Larry Crowne, that appears to be the natural order of things. It was trying too hard to be cutesy while tying in a Great Recession story, and failed all around.

Now, we go into the Bottom Ten, two of which I have yet to officially review.

#10
Cowboys & Aliens

As I argued after seeing Cowboys and Aliens, there was a lot of cowboys but very little aliens. One would have thought the mixing of a Western with a science-fiction story would have opened up many opportunities, but instead this adaptation of a comic book only looked muddled and a bore.

In a series of missed opportunities, we have a movie with both James Bond and Indiana Jones, but Cowboys and Aliens appears to bring out the worst of Daniel Craig and Harrison Ford's screen personas. For Craig (whom I loving call Daniel Craggy or Daniel Crab), it's his penchant for being perpetually morose, and for Ford his blankness with an odd and unconvincing turn as a villain. To my mind, Cowboys and Aliens had virtually nothing to do with these aliens. Dear Mother of Mercy: they aliens came to steal our gold! Seriously, is that their whole motivation? Not even some good old-fashioned anal probing? Somehow, the aliens appeared almost incidental to the plot, and I think I would have enjoyed a straight Western than a film that allows Olivia Wilde to come back from the dead (or as we could call it, cheating). Seriously: OUR GOLD?!

My only clear-cut memory of Cowboys and Aliens is hearing my mother, a huge Harrison Ford fan, say sadly, "Indy's been reduced to THIS".

#9
Transformers: Dark of the Moon

Speaking of Mommie Dearest, Transformers: Dark of the Moon is the ONLY movie she ever walked out of (and this from a woman who sat through Howard the Duck). I won't lie: I thought Transformers: Dark of the Moon was the best of the series. Then again, when you had something as abysmal as the Satanic Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, there was really no way to make something even worse. Then again again, it IS Michael Bay, or as I lovingly call him, The Great Satan of Cinema, so obviously I'm selling him short.

I managed to if not exactly enjoy DOTM at least tolerate it because I decided, "if I can't beat 'em, join 'em", and do what all the other fans of the Transformers movies do: simply turn my brain off and not think. There is a stubborn insistence of making the Transformers films into this monumental epics when they really are junk.

I was once told that Shia LaBeouf was going to be our generation's Tom Hanks, which only caused me to laugh harder (being already in uncontrollable fits of laughter and almost falling out of my chair after being told a friend had seen The Last Airbender...twice...on opening weekend...in 3-D). Tom Hanks in Larry Crowne perhaps. After seeing him in the Transformers movies as well as Indiana Jones & The Kingdom of the Crystal Skulls I don't think LaBeouf is going to be anywhere in the same league as a Punchline/Philadelphia/Every Time We Say Goodbye-era Hanks (not even a Dragnet or Splash-era Hanks). I figure LaBeouf is trying to be another avant-garde actor Ryan Gosling, but really Shia, you're trying too hard to be all intense. Your not a big star or even that respected of an actor, so stop behaving as though you were. Some of us still remember you as Even Stevens, OK? Get over yourself.

#8
The Tree of Life

Sean Penn's face pretty much reflects my own feelings towards The Tree of Life. I imagine I will get a lot of grief on making Terrence Malick's visual poem one of my Bottom Ten Worst films of 2011. I find that every year my fellow critics masturbate to a specific film: last year, it was the excellent but overpraised The Social Network (a film touted as "the Citizen Kane of our generation" which I vehemently disagree with). This year, it is The Tree of Life.

My problem with The Tree of Life was first off, all that DAMN WHISPERING. I DETEST WHISPERING DIALOGUE, IN VOICE-OVER TO BOOT! I cannot tell you how irritating and frustrating to hear people speak in these soft tones, and I find that whenever people whisper dialogue, it is suppose to signal 'we are hearing deep thoughts'. We are not. We are just hearing people whisper. Moreover, the camera work where it was going all over the place was driving me bonkers, and I really didn't understand how Penn's character came to be wandering around the desert with his family. I'm not someone who has to have everything spelled out for him, but I also have a repulsion on deliberately opaque films. I would find watching The Tree of Life to be torture because I found it dull, pretentious, and tedious. I am one of the unconverted, and if by declaring The Tree of Life as one of the worse films of 2011 makes me a heretic, so be it.

#7
Breaking Dawn: Part 1

Was sex ever so dull? Somehow, Breaking Dawn: Part 1 (or to use its pompous title The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn: Part 1) manages to make what was suppose to be this epic love story between human Bella Swann and vampire EDWARD CULLEN into a slow, boring, effort. I have never been a Twihard (or as I call them, a Twilight Twit), but all the Twilight films have no desire to make anything related to the undead (and the girls who love them) into anything interesting.

So what makes Breaking Dawn: Part 1 one of the Top Ten Worst Films of 2011? You mean beside the bad acting, the lack of actual romantic interest, or the leaps of logic contained within the story itself? How about the fact that for such a ridiculous and tedious story, we have to have another one that ties up the story once and for all (oh how I PRAY next year we'll see the last of EDWARD CULLEN and Bella Swoon...I mean Swann).

#6
Sucker Punch

I have all but forgotten Sucker Punch, and that is a good thing because it is such a bad movie. It tries to put a feminist, girl-power veneer over a tale of abused women forced to perform in skimpy outfits, but the movie is so dead and hollow that we don't care about the people wrapped in this nonsense. The visuals were all straight out of a video game, no surprise given the director is Zack Snyder (who somehow has been put in charge of the Superman reboot Man of Steel, which to my mind is a dangerous sign). It's style of having Sucker Punch take place within the main character's mind appears to be an attempt to rip off Terry Gilliam's Brazil (sad that I have to connect a brilliant film with a piece of junk).

It's a misogynistic feature masquerading as a female-empowerment film, an ugly video/video game trying to be a movie. Nothing in Sucker Punch works, and everything is just ugly, pointless, and brain-killing. When I first saw Sucker Punch, I was convinced it would be one of the worst, if not the worst film of 2011. Ultimately, it still made the Top Ten Worst, but what is truly sad is that somehow, we found films even worse than this one.

#5
Abduction

Can we finally say out loud what the world knows: that Taylor Lautner simply cannot act? He can't. He just cannot act. We've seen it time and time again: the Twilight films, Valentine's Day, even The Adventures of Shark Boy and Lava Girl. In fact, I don't think there's been any improvement between the time he played Shark Boy and when he played Jacob Black. If it were not for the Twilight films, Abduction would have been the debut and farewell to Lautner as an actor, a disposable figure known more for his body than any body of work (and I should point out that Tyler Posey on Teen Wolf makes a better werewolf than Taylor Lautner in the Twilight films).

This is a vehicle for Lautner to become an action star (because becoming an actor is simply a bridge too far for him, given his inability to communicate any emotion on screen...but I'm sure he's a nice kid). At one point, Lautner channeled William Shatner in line reading, making things even funnier than they already were given the nonsensical story. Abduction makes no sense, is atrociously acted (even by actual actors like Sigorney Weaver and Alfred Molina), and the suggestion that there will be a sequel or even a hoped-for franchise is an insult to the audience.

Oh, and one more thing: despite its title, there was no actual abduction in Abduction. Just a thought.

#4
I Melt With You

This lost weekend was an absolute nightmare to endure from beginning to end. Few films attempted so much and not only failed so spectacularly but actually made one loath everyone and everything involved in the film as I Melt With You. Promoted as four men dealing with various mid-life crises, the film is a journey into the center of attention (to coin a phrase), a movie that is both pompous and nasty. None of the characters we suffer through are interesting: indulging in nothing but booze, drugs and sex. These four were so much into the drugs that I was completely amazed that they didn't die because of the massive amounts of pills and coke they ingested.

I Melt With You is trying to be some sort of generational story, but we just a group of horrible people we actually want to see die. And die they do, in particularly artsy ways that would make Agatha Christie envious. Once we get actual police involvement, we get Carla Gugino (from Film Number 6) as the world's dumbest cop. This is not an exaggeration: she really is beyond stupid in how she investigates a series of disappearances. These were terrible people, doing terrible and amazingly psychotic things for the thinnest and stupidest of reasons. I HATED this film, and I HATED the pretensions I Melt With You is no nakedly aspiring to. I genuinely felt sorry for the four actors, all talented, having to be in this film.

#3
Green Lantern

Ryan Reynolds is a very pretty man. He is also a genuinely good actor (example: Buried). However, Green Lantern only played to his worst instincts: the perpetually dim frat boy who gets by with his easy smile and smooth abs. I watched Green Lantern in stunned disbelief at just how dreadful, nonsensical, stupid, and just hideous the film was.

There was simply no story in Green Lantern: a jumbled and confused effort where all the characters were suppose to relate to each other but never actually stopped to give them any sense of purpose. Add to that a weak villain who provided no real sense of menace, a secondary villain that was more laughable than dangerous, a lead who appeared almost dead in the adventure going on around him, and blank performances for all, and most damning of all, a blatant announcement of a sequel all conspire to make Green Lantern a sorry, sordid spectacle. I figure that because I like the character, it was an even bigger disappointment to see a great potential to introduce this character disintegrate into a chaotic, rambling mess.

#2
The Green Hornet

In an oft-told tale, I asked Brother Gabe what he thought of The Green Hornet after we had finished watching the film. He told me it had too much comedy for it to be an action film. He asked me what I thought of it. I said, and I quote,

"This is the biggest pile of shit I have ever sat through".

In his retelling, Brother Gabe keeps adding the word "most" to my statement, making it, "This is the MOST biggest pile of shit I have ever sat through", thus making it grammatically incorrect. He's getting better at remembering not to add "most", but such is the license of youth. Yet, I digress.

It doesn't take away from the fact that The Green Hornet is really a gigantic pile of shit. Gabe is correct in his assertion that there is simply too much comedy in The Green Hornet. Seth Rogen missed a great opportunity to show he was something other than the stupid pot-fueled slacker by going for the tried-and-true in his persona rather than try to establish a genuine character. Add to that Christoph Waltz's decision to be camp and Jay Chou's almost unintelligible English and you already have a sinking ship. The film decided it was going for laughs without actually making a spoof: somehow The Green Hornet wanted to make a comedy while making a serious action film at the same time. The main character was quite clearly insane and narcissistic (a dangerous mix), and clueless to boot. Too much time was spent trying to have things played for laughs, so when you have a killing spree of people for wearing green (which would make Brother Gabe, a GIGANTIC Packer fan, a major target since he wears almost nothing but Green Bay clothes), we really can't laugh.

The Green Hornet was a bungled fiasco, and yes, the biggest pile of shit I've ever sat through. Even though it came out in January, I was certain that it would be the Worst Film of 2011, and for the longest time it held out its position, that is, until...

#1
The Hangover Part II

...I sat through an even BIGGER pile of shit. The Hangover Part II is unique in that it is the only film to be both a sequel AND a remake at the same time. Perhaps there was a hope that we would get to relive the fun of the original The Hangover, but instead we find that we truly can't recapture the magic the second time around.

The Hangover Part II is a mean, nasty film, one that is racist, sexist, and homophobic (sometimes in the same scene). It's as if the makers and performers took out what made The Hangover so good (primarily its heart) and decided that what made it funny was the gross-out aspects. Bad move for a bad movie. I was stunned that people could find all the hijinks funny, given they were built on violence and torture, on treating people so badly. It also had no real sense of suspense because the situations that led up to this latest hangover weren't as well-structured as last time. It's one thing to have a sequel, but another to basically make the same movie, take out the good things, emphasize the bad things, change the setting, and think we will see a good movie.

There was nothing funny because they were doing things that were damaging to others, not to themselves as they did in the first Hangover. Here is the biggest flaw in The Hangover Part II: while our Wolf Pack really did damage to themselves (and rather innocuous damage such as pulling out their own teeth), here, one attempts to murder a minor, and the group doesnt' seem disturbed by the fact that said minor had his finger cut off (thus rendering his career as a cellist and surgeon moot). The Hangover Part II is a nasty piece of work, and I will not go see The Hangover Part III. I don't make enough money to waste it so casually. If The Hangover Part III is a big hit (and I mean beyond opening weekend), it is another Sign of the End of Western Civilization.

Well, these are my Sixteen Worst Films of 2011. Mercifully, we will also have the Sixteen Best Films of 2011. Thank heavens for that.

Crimes and Mistranslations

2012-01-16T12:16:00.000-07:00

THE BUSINESS MAN

Let me go on record to say The Business Man was not worth $15. That is the most I have ever paid to watch a film. I was told the high price was because it was a three-hour film, but the last three-hour Tollywood film I saw at this particular theater (Dookudu) cost me $9, which is the exact amount I pay for any other feature. I think I got scammed. Perhaps the theater chain was taking a page from the title character, a shifty crime lord who really has a master plan that would put both Don Corleone and Tony Montana to shame.

I digress to say I don't know exactly why the same unnamed theater chain has an odd fixation and/or fascination with the films of one Mahesh Babu, but I figure when you get billed on screen as "Superstar Mahesh Babu", you carry a certain cache, even out in far West Texas. The Business Man has the benefit of subtitles, which I understand is a rarity for Indian films. At least we are now able to follow the plot more clearly, but on the whole I was surprised at how remarkably dark The Business Man was, thus giving false the idea that Tollywood (or Bollywood--I'm figuring only the location and language make them different) films are light, frothy affairs.

Into Mumbai (formely Bombay) comes Surya (Babu). He comes at the most opportune time, given that the Mumbai Police Commissioner has broken the Mumbai Mafia. Surya has not come to start a new life. He's come to build a criminal empire. By his sheer force of will he manages to bully everyone into doing his bidding and soon he becomes a powerbroker. As part of his scheme, he romances the Commissioner's daughter, Chitra (Kajal Agarwal). As usual in these films (or at least the two that I've seen), Chitra obviously falls in love with Surya, even after finding out he's not a rich kid like her best friend Ayesha (Ayesha Shiva) believes him to be, but a shady character.

Now, Surya has built his criminal empire, but it's a benevolent empire. He tries to convince the Police Commissioner that his enterprise is actually good for Mumbai and India itself, giving ruffians and hoods something to do and away from the streets. (To each his own I suppose). He obviously doesn't see it that way, and is highly enraged that his daughter is now in love with Surya. However, we learn within The Business Man that Surya isn't the amoral, cold, ruthless crime lord he appears to be (even if he does have a few song and dance numbers). Instead, this quasi-Robin Hood style is just a reflection of his circumstances, and this entire film is built around his desire to avenge his parents from when a powerful politician (one who is on the cusp of becoming Prime Minister of India) betrayed them so long ago.

As is the case in these types of films (again, at least the two I've seen), plot is fulfilled, but while we have a sense of an ending (to coin a phrase), we don't get a happy one. No big dance number to celebrate the union of two lovers, no joie de vivre at the completion of a successful master plan. Instead, we get Surya telling the press (and the audience) that we should go for what we're after.

If anything sums up The Business Man's worldview, it is thus: "I believe in war, not morality" (which if memory serves correct, is spoken in English).

I can applaud Babu and writer/director Puri Jagannath's desire to try to break the conventions of a Bollywood/Tollywood film by making a grittier, darker feature than the genre usually calls for. For example, we don't get our first musical number (Mumbai) until we are well into The Business Man. Curiously, while we got the jist of the number (to be truthful I don't remember if the lyrics appears on screen), this first of five song-and-dance numbers takes advantage of the slum setting and appears, at least to this Westener's ears and eyes, to almost be a potential theme for Occupy Mumbai. The number is a tough one, using the dirt of the street itself to have an almost angry style.

The other numbers range from the curious to the downright bizarre. What I figure is the love song entre Surya et Chitra (Sir Osthata) does have a beautiful beach setting, but when we get images of dancing girls pixilated when it appears they are dressed in respectable bikinis one wonders why we are treated to such odd images. The third spectacle musical moment (Pilla Chao), which I take to be his attempt to dismiss Chitra, has his backup dancers dressed in what appear to be Santa Claus coats.

Perhaps the worst musical number was the second love/romantic song (Chandamama Navve). It this sequence, Surya is singing his love to a clearly chlorofomed Chitra (who appears to still be slightly under the influence). I should point out that this song-and-dance takes place AFTER one of his agents abducts her (I should clarify that she had hailed a taxi and the taxi driver was one of his agents, so it wasn't strictly speaking a snatch-and-grab). I don't know exactly how one communicates passion to someone who is not completely conscious without it coming off as slightly creepy if not downright criminal (then again, they do it all the time in the Twilight films).

In terms of performances, I should congratulate Miss Shiva for providing what little comic relief there is in The Business Man. I digress to say that the film does not have much if any lightness. Instead, there is a great deal of heavyness almost bordering on nihilism to it. So much time is spent on making Surya a loathsome character that when we do see beneath the veneer of toughness to see a damaged and hurt boy we really can't muster enough sympathy to feel much for him. This is especially true to how he treats Chitra: a mix of braggadicio and bullying but not really communicating any real sense of love or even gentle romance.

Granted, it stays within the image of Surya as a cold machine-like being, seeing everything (from one's relationship to God to romantic entanglements) purely in the terms of rational self-interest. (WOW--an Indian follower of Ayn Rand with a criminal bent!). However, one can't get any idea that Surya has genuinely fallen in love with Chitra instead of just using her to neutralize her father because he's always so harsh with her. It also does make one wonder, given how he is with her, whether Chitra is either dumb or remarkably shallow.

Here, again, I have to say that Babu shifted from his previous film of Dookudu. Here, he's on the other side of the law, and it's a credit to his ability to make Surya into a semi-villain in his criminal undertakings and inability to see how killing a human is any different than killing a chicken for dinner. He brings a cold ruthlessness to Surya, but there was a hint of emotion when discussing his lost years (down to the tears). Whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that he was not allowed any light moments (either with Chitra or perhaps a clumsy sidekick for some comic relief) I leave up to his rabid fanbase. He did well in the dance numbers, so it was entertaining in that respect, and the action scenes were at times almost Matrix-like, lending a slight air of exaggeration.

If anything about The Business Man looks strange, it is the subtitles. Whoever worked on them made some curious choices, translating some words as "child hood", "dis belief", and "to wards" rather than "childhood", "disbelief", and "towards". It was starting to take a life of its own, and while I normally support subtitles at times the white letters became unreadable when placed against a white background.

I think that as a viewer, especially someone who doesn't know Tollywood or Bollywood all too well, The Business Man has a remarkably dark and bleak message that it becomes quite heavy. It wasn't a bad film (and I won't argue about its length: these types of films almost always go two to three hours, with intermission). However, while one can respect the desire to make a grittier, darker Tollywood/Bollywood film, it was not altogether a pleasure to do business with The Business Man.

DECISION: C+

The Longest Day

2012-01-11T08:59:00.000-07:00

ONE DAY

There is a way of taking a novel and adapting it to a feature film that expands on it, ironically enough, by removing elements of it. It could be cutting out characters or altering the timeline. This could upset fans of the books (for example, I was always a bit disappointed that Miss Dubois was only in one scene in To Kill A Mockingbird), but on the whole they aren't missed. One Day, adapted for the screen by its author (David Nicholls), decided to keep close to the novel. Therein lies part of its failure to be a sweeping love story.

One Day covers the lives of Emma Morley (Anne Hathaway) and Dexter Mayhew (Jim Sturgess) over the course of 18 years (and a few more) as their relationship grows, breaks, and reunites. As the title suggests, we visit with them on the same day, different year (that day being July 15). We start in 1988, where Em and Dex get together for a one-night stand after graduation. They don't actually consummate anything, but agree to become friends. Over the course of the years, their lives take wildly different turns. Emma moves from Edinburgh to London set to be a great writer/poetess, but makes due with being a waitress at a Tex-Mex place (side note, as an actual Tex-Mex, I would not have gone there when I went to London). There, she meets aspiring comic Ian (Rafe Spall), they shack up, she becomes a schoolteacher, they split up, and she finally writes and publishes a successful young adult novel.

Dex, scion of wealth, goes into television, hosting a raunchy late-night show called Late Night Lock In featuring scantily-clad women. His schtick is despised (referred to in the headlines as "The Most Annoying Man On Telly", or as I call him, Graham Norton) and he's replaced on television (having his last hosting gig on a show called Joy Stick Jockeys, which I think had him playing video games on the BBC or Granada or Thames or whatever else they have in the UK). His drinking and cocaine habit eventually dissipate when he has a shotgun wedding. Within a year he is divorced.

By this time, it is 2003, and after sleeping together (though we don't see it), these two are finally engaged. We then go back to where One Day started in 2006 and get one of those ugly twists that kills our romance (literally). Even then, we are not finished, as the film ends in 2011.

I'm going to be honest that I have never heard or read One Day, so I go into the film unaware of how the film deviates from the book. However, I get the sense that it doesn't, and what you have is an orderly progression of the story. Somehow, I get the idea that the novel MUST be better than than movie because somehow the idea of meeting the same characters on a particular day every year in a book allows for an expanded view of the goings-on. We can go into their minds, get updates on what has been going on. In short, this device works in a book because simply more information can be given.

In a film version, we're stuck in a slightly more unrealistic world. In a book, we can imagine that their lives keep going before and after July 15; in the film it almost appears that the characters literally pick up where we last left them. It's almost like that between July 16 and July 14 they really did nothing except wait for July 15 to roll around. This is because Nicholls so slavishly kept to this schedule that it's the equivalent of slowing down at an accident to see what happened: we get glimpses but no real concrete notions of who they are or what motivates them.

Take Emma and Ian's relationship. First, it almost looks like Ian is there just to have some sort of romantic conflict. Second, one never sees exactly what Emma sees in Ian or vice-versa. This is because, again, we only look in on them once a year. Somehow, I kept thinking if One Day allowed for us to go beyond one day, we might have had a film that flowed more easily.

Even worse, we go through their lives almost literally year by year (we keep seeing "15 July XXXX" appear somewhere on the screen over and over and once more to where it can become a fun guessing game exactly how the date will appear on the screen). In the course of One Day, only 1994, 2002, and 2008 were skipped. I'm serious: only three years were skipped. Why couldn't the film skip more years? Why did we have to go through almost every year, sometimes to its detriment (in 1997, the only thing that happened was that Emma swam. That was it for 1997: quiet year that). Some years are long, some years are short, but all years give us only slight ideas of who they are or why they do what they do.

Nowhere in One Day do we see what Dex and Emma see in each other that will keep them as friends, let alone lovers in the far future. This is a failure of Lone Scherfig's directing: the movie moves so slowly if it weren't for they years popping up we really wouldn't know where we are (I still consider the cutesy ways the dates show up to be a distraction).

I can't quite bring myself to put the blame on the leads. I don't know Sturgess' work, but he did a respectable job showing Dex's evolution from shallow to caring father. Hathaway is a good actress, but the decision to try to give her a British accent was disastrous. It not only never sounded authentic (one could easily tell she wasn't British), but by the end of One Day she sounded American (or at least to me). Maybe I was imagining things, but I think even she gave up trying to speak like a native English girl (there was no way she would pass for Scottish or Welsh). Spall did a better job as the hapless and unfunny Ian, and Patricia Clarkson had a small but well-done role as Dex's dying mother (now HER accent sounded real, a remarkable feat given she's from New Orleans).

In short, One Day feels like One Century. We don't know why they stay in each other's lives, and at a certain point we don't care. By hitting them once a year, we are robbed of seeing their evolution as people or in their relationship. When in 2003 we hear that they had finally slept together, I just wondered WHY, WHY, WHY we as an audience we robbed of our two thwarted lovers finally consummating their relationship? It is because Nicholls opted to keep true to his novel, which was a lousy mistake.

The best way to sum up how long and sadly dull One Day ends up being is thus: when we got to 15 July 1992, I wrote in my notes, "And we've got 14 years to go".

DECISION: D+

A Little Honey Does A Body Good

2012-01-10T14:52:00.000-07:00

DR. NO

We start with the first James Bond film, though not technically, the first Bond story. Casino Royale fell away from producers Harry Saltzman and Albert R. "Cubby" Broccolli, so we go to Dr. No as our introduction to 007. Whatever its faults (and it does have them), Dr. No was setting the stage for our iconic agent, introducing certain motifs in the franchise that we still have even to this day.

In Jamaica, MI6 agent Strangways (Timothy Boxon, voiced by Robert Rietty) has disappeared. To investigate, the spy agency sends James Bond (Sean Connery). Upon arriving in Jamaica, Bond realizes there is something mysterious going on at Crab Key, an island where no outsiders are allowed. Crab Key was being investigated by Strangways and his Jamaican aide, Quarrel (John Kitzmiller), who was also working with the CIA. The island is the domain of a mysterious Chinese figure named Dr. No.

Bond decides the best thing to do is to go to Crab Key, especially after Professor Dent (Anthony Dawson) has attempted to kill Bond under No's orders. Bond and Quarrel arrive under cover of dark, but when Bond awakens, he sees one of the most beautiful sights ever: a girl in a white bikini walking from the sea to the shore. This is Honey Rider (Ursula Andress), a beauty who comes to Crab Key to collect and study seashells. Since she's proven able to elude the guards and never ventures into the island itself, she's pretty much left alone by them. However, now that the security is aware of Bond and Quarrel's arrival, all three are in danger.

Eventually, Bond and Honey are captured, but unlike Quarrel, they are not killed. Instead, they are hosted by none other than Dr. No himself (Joseph Wiseman). The bad doctor tells him of his scheme: as an agent for SPECTRE (Special Executive for Counterintelligence, Terror, Revenge, Extortion), he will 'topple' the American space rocket, bringing both the East and West to their knees. Bond manages to escape, kill off Dr. No, rescue Honey, and destroy the doctor's lair...and get the girl in the end.

For better or worse Dr. No has many elements that would become hallmarks of the James Bond franchise, but we're getting ahead of ourselves; as a film itself, Dr. No isn't without some major issues. While watching Dr. No, I kept thinking how remarkably slow the film was. I thought that perhaps the Caribbean setting made the film more relaxed than it should have been. It could also be that there were three screenwriters (Richard Maibaum, Johanna Harwood, and Berkeley Mather) adapting Ian Fleming's novel. Now, while that doesn't violate one of my Golden Rules of Filmmaking, somehow the story didn't have a sense of mystery or danger, but of a leasurely stroll until the third act, to where it's almost all action.

For long stretches of Dr. No, we get a leisurely-paced film with occasional burst of action. It really isn't until we get to Crab Key that we get a nearly relentless sense of adventure. Part of the problem with this is the build-up to the revealing of Dr. No himself. He really isn't on the screen for more than ten minutes (at the most) and it's only until the final part of the film that we get to see him. What we are treated to is his voice, when Dent comes unannounced to his lair to inform him of Bond's investigation. Somehow, while it was good to have a remarkably calm voice telling his underling of his plans for this meddlesome agent, it also didn't bring a great deal of menace.

Tied into that is when there is an attempt on Bond's life via a tarantula. Somehow, that method of murder didn't strike me as particularly threatening or dangerous, only slightly elaborate and even comical. A this point, Monty Norman's score only made that particular scene more amusing in its seriousness. I personally think a bomb would have worked better. Just my view.

I think part of the reason Dr. No didn't go over well with me is because there really wasn't any sense of suspense or mystery. I knew Miss Taro (Zena Marshall) worked for Dr. No, so the entire attempt to kill him through her (either by trying to drive him off the road to her home or bringing someone to kill him post-coitus) didn't work for me. I, and Bond himself, knew the driver who picked him up at the Kingston airport wasn't from Government House, so again, it's a waiting game to see when he will strike. When the hostesses at Crab Key, Sister Rose and Sister Lilly (Michele Mok and Yvonne Shima respectively) greet Bond and Honey so pleasantly, there is a touch of lightness that is welcome.

However, it does beg the question, 'if Crab Key is forbidden to all visitors, why exactly does Dr. No have rather lush accommodations for guests?' Incidentally, one wonders why Dr. No doesn't just kill Bond or let them die from the radioactivity they picked up along a stretch of forbidden swamp on Crab Key? I know it's because No is impressed with Bond's skill, so much so that the bad doctor thinks 007 could be recruited for SPECTRE, but I would have liked to have seen that stretched out a bit more.

However, as bad the ultimate reveal of Dr. No himself may have been (featuring the least Asian-looking man since Mickey Rooney played a Japanese photographer in Breakfast at Tiffany's despite the doctor's Eurasian background), the reveal of 007 is one of the best and most iconic in film history.

Here is where director Terence Young showed great flair by withholding until Connery delivers his first line,

"Bond. James Bond."

The swagger in Connery's voice and delivery, coupled with the-now iconic James Bond theme playing behind him, makes that a great moment in Dr. No. We see in Connery's performance that James Bond is someone who flirts with danger: figuratively and literally. He also has a great sense of humor. When they first meet, Honey tensely tells Bond she's looking for shells and demands to know what he's doing. His quip, "I'm just looking" (wouldn't we all at the sight of Honey Ryder).

Of course, as great as Bond's introduction is, nothing beats the breathtaking moment when Honey Ryder appears before us. The imagery is deliberate: she rises from the ocean like Aphrodite, but it still works because it appears so natural and because Andress simply is amazingly beautiful. I can't say she was a great actress in Dr. No, but as the naive island girl whose father she suspects was also killed by Dr. No Andress did a respectable job. In a too-brief appearance, a pre-Hawaii 5-0 Jack Lord comes aboard as CIA agent Felix Leiter, and while not the greatest performance you do see hints of what could have been a real starmaking turn.

In his also too-brief time as the villainous Doctor No (no relation to Doctor Who), Wiseman was perfect as the calm, almost urbane villain. My only caveat with Wiseman (apart from the fact that he was no Asian or even part-Asian and didn't have a convincing make-up job), was that he didn't prove to be a good antagonist. Dr. No was just the device to get the story going, not the central figure in all the intrigue and murderous mayhem going on in his name.

Again, at the risk of getting ahead of myself, when it comes to other Bond villains, the bad doctor didn't have a major role in the film itself. Moreover, his demise was both quick and somewhat anticlimactic, with none of the big buildup that others were to have.

Finally, while Peter Hunt's editing was well-done (in particular when Bond, Quarrel, and Honey were escaping No's guards by the river), the sets and costumes make Dr. No a bit dated: you can tell this was the early 60s from the overall look of the film.

Dr. No got the ball rolling on the James Bond franchise, and it's a good though not great start. However, just the sight of Honey Ryder rising like Aphrodite from the sea (thus giving rise to the call for Ursula UN-DRESS), to quote the name of another Fleming character, it was Truly Scrumptious.

DECISION: B-

Breaking Yawns

2012-01-09T21:28:00.000-07:00

BREAKING DAWN: PART I

(AKA

THE TWILIGHT SAGA:

BREAKING DAWN:

PART I)

How exactly DOES a vampire produce sperm?

This question is not an idiotic one (although the reason for the question most definitely is). This is at the heart of the story in Breaking Dawn: Part 1 (or to use the surreal and pretentious full title The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn: Part 1--so many colons...). In fact, the entire story pivots on this oh-so-very-important-but-unanswerable-question.

Not being well-versed in vampire lore, one can say I may be unaware of how the undead can bring life. However, if memory serves correct, the entire problem (plotwise) in Van Helsing (a film that was nothing but a series of problems for an audience) was that Dracula could not have a child simply because he could produce living sperm to create life.

In all my adventures with Twilight Twits (those enthralled with Stephanie Meyer's tomes), none have ever been able to give me an answer as to how someone who is clinically dead (and more importantly, whose body, albeit beautiful, is as cold as a corpse) can create sperm. I suppose it is possible to give a very long and convoluted explanation (something about male vampires being able to impregnate human females, though that does raise the question as to why more male vampires don't just marry/knock up dumb females who will give birth to an army of Blades), but I think the best answer is the simplest.

They can't.

As a result, Breaking Dawn: Part 1 just doesn't make any sense. Still, when it comes to the Twilight series (excuse me, SAGA), one has to suspend logic and intelligence in order to have a story.

I think I've tired of telling people what I think of Stephanie Meyer's ode to romance:

A.) A Sign of The End of Western Civilization

B.) The Erotic Musings of a Frumpy Housefrau

C.) Garbage

D.) All of the Above

I've repeated my one encounter with the actual Twilight books. I made the effort to read Twilight (or to give it its full title: The Twilight Saga: Twilight)--twice--but simply could not get through it because I thought it was stupid. Luckily, we had an audiobook copy of Twilight, so I went for that. At a certain point in the reading, I wanted to pop out the CD and fling it out the window because I thought it was so awful, but I couldn't because it belonged to my employer, the El Paso Public Library. I will say that when the narrator-as-Bella talked about how EDWARD CULLEN (the most beautiful and perfect being in the history of all literature) was literally sparkling (emphasis mine) I laughed uncontrollably for five miles. In fact, the only other time I can remember laughing so uncontrollably hard as then was when I saw this:

Yet I digress.

With Breaking Dawn: Part 1, we know we are going to have a sequel (and thus round out the whole Twilight franchise...hopefully). The book itself is so long that it could not be compressed into one film, much as Harry Potter & The Deathly Hallows Parts 1 & 2 or the upcoming The Hobbit or Atlas Shrugged were forced to be split up. Breaking Dawn, however, has not been acknowledged as a masterpiece of literature (which both Tolkien and Rand's books have; jury's still out on Rowling). In fact, the entire Twilight series is junk, and given that, why should we have expected Breaking Dawn to be any better? The big surprise to me, after watching Breaking Dawn, is that while not having read the novel, when the film ends, what exactly is there more to tell?

We start where we should in this turgid drama: with Taylor Lautner shirtless. His character, one Jacob. Black. Ooh. runs out into the forest in a fury. He's just received an invitation to the wedding of Bella Swoon...I mean, Swann (Kristen Stewart) and EDWARD CULLEN (Robert Pattinson). All of Bella's fantasies have come to this: marriage at 18 to the most perfect man ever created--he won't touch her until they're legally wed (why do I hear Look At Me, I'm Sandra Dee playing in my head?), keeps saving her (or saving himself for her, I don't know) has six-pack abs and sparkling skin. Still, she hesitates (though we don't know why).

The actual story in Breaking Dawn: Part 1 is quite simple, easily described. Bella (the human) and EDWARD CULLEN (the vampire) get married. They go to an island off the coast of Rio de Janiero for the honeymoon. They have sex (AT LONG LAST!)

Fourteen days later, Bella is pregnant (no, that is not a typo: fourteen DAYS later, she is pregnant and can feel the baby kicking). Up from Rio back to Forks, Washington State, where Jacob. Black. Ooh. continues to pine for a girl who's always made it clear she'll only see him as a friend. In any case, his tribe (who are a literal pack of werewolves) discover Bella's preggers and flip out. The half-human/half-vampire (or as I lovingly call the child, Baby Blade) must be destroyed. Within a month of getting pregnant, Bella gives birth to their daughter, Renesmee (I know, but it's better than Pilot Inspektor or Kal-El). The baby, which has been devouring Bella from the inside out, lives, but Mommie doesn't.

Whatever is a vampire to do with a dead wife? Obviously, bring out the undead.

The werewolves attack, but now Jacob. Black. Ooh., who has joined in an unholy alliance with the Cold Ones to save Bella, has 'imprinted' on Renesmee (meaning that she cannot be killed since he now plans to make her his mate...dear God is this nutty), and we end Breaking Dawn: Part 1 with Bella awakening...as a vampire!

After seeing all the goings-on in Part 1, the only thing I could think of was, 'really, what MORE could there POSSIBLY BE?' Furthermore, why would ever care about what more there could be when if one thinks about it, the story should have really finished when Bella and EDWARD CULLEN (or as I loving call him, Sullen Cullen) finally do it (whether you interpret that as meaning 'marry' or 'intercourse' I leave to you). I could not shake the impression that Stephanie Meyer had basically run out of story once her wish-fulfillment of the perfect wedding to the perfect man was accomplished, so she had to give our characters a new complication.

One that was completely impossible. I digress to say that when Bella frantically calls EDWARD CULLEN'S father figure Carlisle (Peter Facinelli) and asks him, "Is it possible? Can it happen?" I said, "It's impossible and it can't happen").

Perhaps the only thing that Breaking Dawn: Part 2 could ever explain is how a vampire could get a human pregnant (and do it so fast). Other than that, why do we care what happens to any of the characters we've been suffering through for these four films?

Bella got what she wanted: she got EDWARD CULLEN, she got sex, she even got changed to a vampire (which has been her goal since Twilight). Therefore, now that she has everything she's ever longed for (and even a surprise child to boot), why continue with her story?

It's even more astonishing that screenwriter Melissa Rosenberg (having adapted all the Twilight books) could possibly make two films out of something that, just based on the film adaptation, didn't have much of a story in the first place. Again, I come at from a viewpoint of someone who's not read this book (and barely got through the first one), but if it is a faithful adaptation of the book, Breaking Dawn the novel must have had some really far-out, if not downright bonkers situations (as if the girl-getting-pregnant-by-a-vampire-and-giving-birth-a-month-after-losing-her-virginity-to-a-monster-who-is-somehow-destined-to-be-involved-with-a-Native American werewolf wasn't already psycho enough).

Chief among them is a scene where we get all of the Quileute Native Nation-cum-werewolves going to a council of sorts. What we get is a scene where computer-generated wolves are talking to each other with their minds. As seen on screen, it was laughable (the audience I saw it with concurred). It was not only bizarre to see these obviously-fake animals growl their pretentious dialogue ("She must be destroyed! I won't follow you! I am the grandson of a Chief!") but it was laughable to take any of it with the same seriousness that Rosenberg and/or director Bill Condon want us or expect us to take it with.

Moreover, it brought to mind something similar in Beneath Planet of the Apes, where the mutants were able to communicate with each other with just their minds. Curiously, in that film it also looked comical (more so because they were trying so hard to be serious in something essentially silly), and the Wolf-Pack mind-speak still looked damn silly.

Leaving that aside, and the total lack of logic in the plot (really, would it have killed Meyer and Rosenberg to at least make pretend a child takes nine months to fully gestate?), we still get so many bad moments that appear to only stretch the film. The wedding itself has a montage of those 'embarrassing' wedding speeches that were boring, unfunny, and never added anything. In fact, it looked like even the extras were bored having to listen to this go on and on.

The pacing in Breaking Dawn is so slow and quiet that, despite the urgency we're told there is at the rapid gestation and birth of Renesmee, it always appeared that everything moves so placidly during the film's nearly two-hour running time. There's just an emptiness, a hollowness to Breaking Dawn, and while the blame lays partly in the source material, part of it also goes to both the adaptation, the directing, and the acting.

I can't say anything more about the abilities of either Pattinson or Lautner than I have in the past. They've proven time and again, in both the Twilight films and their own independent projects (Water for Elephants and Abduction respectively), that neither can actually act. About the best that can be said about them in Breaking Dawn is that neither didn't embarrass himself as much as he has in the past. They did in Breaking Dawn what they do best: for Pattinson, purse his lips, for Lautner, show his abs.

Stewart, who has been the only human character to behave as if she were already dead in all her Twilight appearances, has settled comfortably in the role of the mortal who appears to behave like a zombie. Safe to say you don't watch any Twilight film to see turns of great thespianism. The humans (in particular Burke, who continues to show no range), the werewolves or vampires (who do nothing but strike poses and spout nonsense) were indistinguishable from each other.

The only exception is Ashley Greene as the psychically-intuned vampire Alice, but again, she's been the only character allowed to laugh, let alone smile, so at least she's given a chance to express emotions. You have Kellan Lutz (or KLutz as I lovingly call him), someone who looks like a linebacker (and given his role in Twilight is to be the figurative and literal muscle for the Cullen clan that is an apt description). Poor Jackson Rathbone (no relation to actual actor Basil Rathbone): still making Jasper look totally lost, as if he doesn't follow anything going on around him given his blank expression (or maybe he's still in shock over appearing in The Last Airbender).

I know I've touched on how boring Breaking Dawn is, but I don't think I've quite communicated just how boring it is. The long-vaunted love scene entre EDWARD CULLEN et Bella is suppose to be romantic (with him breaking the headboard in an effort to not overwhelm her and control himself--although that scene also brought laughter from the audience). It didn't look anything close to romantic to me--perhaps because it was over so fast (insert your own joke here). I digress again to say that Bella must be amazingly stupid (even for a girl who married at eighteen without benefit of child): she was too enthralled with having finally made love to EDWARD CULLEN to realize she had any bruising (or evidently, feel any pain from said bruising). In fact, she keeps suggesting and attempting to seduce EDWARD CULLEN, but ever the gentleman (and fearful that his intensity and superhuman strength unleashed would kill her) continues to want nothing more than a bit of a cuddle.

Hence a honeymoon primarily filled with playing chess. These were the parts where I was the only one laughing: loudly and strenuously.

The birth scene, I was led to believe, would be gory and graphic. In truth, the editing and camera work hid what could have been an extremely violent scene (though the flashing lights could cause epileptic seizures as has been reported). I figure the tameness of both the love and birth scenes were due in order to keep the PG-13 rating, but I did not see anything in either that showed either a sweeping romance or a sick horror film.

However, at the end of Breaking Dawn: Part 1, when EDWARD CULLEN was attempting to bring back Bella and when she finally awakens with her golden vampire eyes, the only thing I thought of was whether they were doing their own version of Bride of Re-Animator.

I will finally address any questions about possible subtext in Breaking Dawn. You can make a strong case that the issue of whether to allow Bella to go full term (whatever a Baby Blade constitutes full term) is touching on abortion: to save the mother's life, whether it's a fetus to be terminated for Bella's survival (as Rosalie Hale--Nikki Reed--keeps saying) or a baby to be saved (as Alice keeps saying). Even Papa EDWARD CULLEN joins in the fracas, stating that he will hate the child regardless if it ends up killing the love of his afterlife. I think there is a pro-life (or anti-choice, depending on your point of view) stance in Breaking Dawn, but without knowing one way or another, this is only a guess.

Breaking Dawn: Part 1 is a slow, dull, lumbering affair where all the characters are lifeless (even the living), the romance hollow, and the tension and suspense non-existent. I really cannot imagine (besides wringing more money out of Twilight Twits) why a story already so long but with so little happening would be broken down to two films. On the night Edward and his 'brothers' are going to a Bachelor Party (which constitutes entirely of hunting for animals to feast on, since these are good vampires that don't drink human blood), Emmett (that would be KLutz) shouts,

"Boring!"

That seems to be the best description to...take full breath...The Twilight SAGA: Breaking Dawn: Part I.

DECISION: F

To Georges, With Love, Marty

2012-01-07T18:53:00.000-07:00

HUGO

As I watched Hugo, the first 3-D film from Martin Scorsese (and the first film that we can call 'a Martin Scorsese children's movie), I could not help think that more than any other film, Hugo is a love letter from one genius (Scorsese) to another (French film pioneer Georges Méliès). All the great passions of Scorsese's life (film itself, the wonder and magic that can be derived from the film-viewing experience, and the importance of preserving cinema history) are all there. Anchored with some truly brilliant production work and some wonderful acting (for the most part) Hugo is an absolute delight from beginning to (very long) end, and despite one or two missteps (more on that later), the film is simply a joy.

Hugo Cabret (Asa Butterfield) lives within a giant Parisian train station, keeping the clocks running. He's an orphan, after his father (Jude Law) dies in a museum fire. Before his death, Hugo's dad, a clockmaker/repairer, brings a discarded automaton (a precursor to the animatronic figures used on Disneyland/Disney World rides) to repair. After his father's death, Hugo continues the work, albeit with an important part missing: the heart-shaped key.

As it goes, Hugo spends his life in the station, avoiding the Station Inspector (Sasha Baron Cohen, another one of those vaunted 'comedic geniuses' I keep hearing so much about) and admiring the toy stand of a lonely shopkeep. One day, the shopkeep catches his, seizes Hugo's notebook, and says he will burn it. This notebook is highly valuable to Hugo (though we can guess we don't know until a bit later). Hugo follows the shopkeep to his home, and there see a young girl. This girl, Isabelle (Chole Grace Moretz) agrees to save Hugo's notebook.

We eventually learn a few things: that Isabelle loves books of all kinds, provided by the kindly bookshop owner Monsiuer Labisse (Sir Christopher Lee), and that the toy shopkeep is her godfather, one Papa Georges (Sir Ben Kingsley). Soon, a relationship begins between Isabelle and Hugo: not a romance but more than a friendship. Hugo takes Isabelle to her first movie (a premiere screening of Harold Llyod's Safety Last!) and soon, we have discoveries. We discover that Isabelle has a heart-shaped key that fits into the automaton, and once functioning the automaton reveals an image from Hugo's memory of his father. We also discover the truth about Papa Georges: he's none other than famed French film director Georges Méliès.

We learn that Méliès is now a forgotten figure, so forgotten Melies fan/film historian Rene Tabard (Michael Stuhlbarg) believed him dead. At last, the story of Méliès and his connection to the automaton is revealed, as is how his once-joyful and glorious career as an inventive director came to a sad end (along with his movies, lost to history). As is the way of a good film, we do have a happy ending: Georges Méliès is brought back to the forefront of French cinema culture recognized as the pioneer that he is, we learn that of his 500+ films we do have over 200 that have survived (including his own purge), Hugo has a home with the Méliès, the denizens of the station have found happiness themselves, and the automaton is restored.

Perhaps this is the message, the theme that Scorsese placed in his adaptation of Brian Selznick's juvenile novel The Invention of Hugo Cabret: how film (and books as well) are conduits to dreams, to fantasy, adventure, romance. Certainly, Hugo can be seen as an informal primer into the early days of cinema: we learn in a flashback how Méliès discovered films, and we get loving recreations of some of his films (including his most famous work: A Trip To the Moon, including the almost frenetic style which if seen today might seem odd, even funny, to our eyes, but which has the scene of the rocket crashing into the eye of the Man on the Moon, a now-iconic scene). Hugo is at its heart a celebration of imagination, or at least that is how I interpreted the film.

I say this because our two main juvenile characters enjoy (Isabelle with books, Hugo with film) see the joy that comes from either imagining things in their minds or being swept into the world of early cinema (where we could fear that Harold Lloyd would fall from the clock or a scene of a train coming our way would have us think the train was about to crash).

Curiously (or perhaps, more accurately deliberately), Scorsese echoes famous scenes from film in Hugo. Twice we see that Hugo is in danger of being run over by a train, echoing when the first film of a train coming to a station so terrified unaware audiences. As Hugo races to escape the Station Inspector, he's forced to hide out in front of a clock while holding on for dear life. If you look real closely, you not only get 'cameos' from famed jazz musician Django Reinhart playing at the station, but we also get quick sightings of James Joyce and Salvador Dalí.

Scorsese not only brings the Paris of the Roaring Twenties back to life with Robert Richardson's beautiful cinematography, Howard Shore's belle epoque-tinged score, and Dante Ferretti's brilliant art direction, but with the 3-D he does something I thought thoroughly impossible: he comes as close as anyone can or probably ever will in putting the audience within the film itself. One has to always remember that Scorsese is not only one of cinema's great defenders and most passionate fans, but one of its greatest and most meticulous craftsman. He would be the first to use 3-D not as a gimmick to give the audience a momentary thrill but to use it as part of the story.

I can't recall a particular moment when the 3-D either interfered with my enjoyment of Hugo or where it was gratuitous. The opening sequence as we head into the train station itself is worth the 3-D, and in fact, along with Avatar, Hugo is the ONLY film I can think of that has used 3-D to place you inside the film rather than have the opposite effect and keep you out of it. Hugo, in fact, is the only film I think I would think is better in 3-D than 2-D (though I didn't see it in 2-D).

For me, curiously, the most magical moments in Hugo on the technical level relate to the most simple effect: the fall of snow upon a wintry Paris. If there was ever an element that put you inside the movie, that made you feel part of the story, it is this simple effect. I credit it to Scorsese's constant need to use all the technology to serve the story rather than to show off what can be done.

Scorsese also brings that innocence and whimsy to how he gets his actors to perform. Kingsley balances the hyper passion of Méliès with the sadness to see his work forgotten and lost. Butterfield has a great expressiveness as the sad yet still hopeful Hugo. Moretz (whom I've almost forgiven for the horrifying, sick, unpleasant Kick-Ass--never understood how people could possibly object to the idea of a little girl nearly getting killed given how something like Pumped Up Kicks from Foster the People, like Kick-Ass, makes violence towards and by kids seem almost cute), shifts gears radically from Hit-Girl to bring a joie de vivre and sense of adventure to Isabelle. In a small role, it is a surprise and delight to see Sir Christopher Lee as the kindly Monsieur Labisse. His voice, his presence, in his too-brief time on screen commanded attention, and showed that he was not there just for marquee value but that he did have a role to play. Even Law (on screen for about two minutes) brought a genuine warmth to his role as Hugo's loving father.

As it is, the only thing that I didn't like was "comedic genius" Borat...I mean Baron Cohen (allow me to say that Borat was the only movie I walked out of, though Fidel Gomez, Jr.--who may or may not be dead--did cajole me into watching it. I never understood why people thought it was so funny, but I digress). Every time he was on screen, doing a combination of Inspectors Clouseau and Javert from Les Miserables, I was bored. I didn't care for his schtick. I didn't care about his romance. I just didn't care for him or his character. In fact, when I saw him with his dog, I kept flashing back to G. W. Bailey's role in Mannequin (itself a variation of his Lieutenant Harris from the Police Academy films).

That whole subplot of the Station Inspector I think could have been trimmed or cut entirely without affecting the overall flow of Hugo, and it might have even made it better. The film already is a long one (128 minutes) and the Inspector's story I think was the cause for the movie being over two hours long. I also was a bit frustrated when Méliès lamented that his automaton had, he believed, been destroyed in a museum fire. When Hugo runs to the station, I already knew what would happen. I kept thinking, 'why can't Hugo and/or Isabelle tell Papa Georges that it did survive, let me show you where it is'? I know this is what happens in a movie, but couldn't we ever get characters to make things a little less mysterious (and shorten the story)? I don't think it would have affected either the flow or the sentimentality of the story to have Méliès be reunited with his automaton without having poor Hugo go through so many literal hoops.

Minus those missteps, Hugo is pure enchantment, a film that is served by being in 3-D, a movie that speaks to the importance of film preservation (and the magic within film itself), and the wonders of the human imagination. Hugo would be a film that I would show my children if they were to ever understand not just the beauty of those early films from Méliès but on how the mind can create far better things than machines (although there is nothing wrong with using machines to create dreams).

1861-1938
Your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams...(Acts 2:17)

DECISION: A-

Bringing Light and 3D Into The Dark Places

2012-01-05T08:31:00.000-07:00

CAVE OF FORGOTTEN DREAMS

Until Cave of Forgotten Dreams, the closest I came to going within the Earth was when we would go to see the Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico, about a three-to-four hour drive from my hometown of El Paso, TX (though since I was not driving, don't hold me to the accuracy of the distance, merely that we could go from El Paso to Carlsbad and back within a day). The Carlsbad Caverns themselves are a wonder, but there are two differences between them and the Chauvet Cave complex profiled in Cave of Forgotten Dreams: one, the works of nature, not man, are the selling points and two, they are open to the public. Now Werner Herzog, in his first 3-D film, has been granted rare access into the caves to explore one of the great wonders of the dawn of man.

We begin with a bit of background: in 1994 three scientists come into a previously unexplored cave. Within it, a miraculous discovery: the earliest cave paintings ever discovered, brilliantly preserved, along with fossilized remains and footprints of long-lost animals. The cave itself is highly restricted: it is not open to the public and Herzog and his crew were highly restricted in how they filmed. They could only film for four hours a day, could not depart from an established, narrow walkway, and had to wear special clothing. All this with only four to do the filming (that's including Herzog himself) and were watched at all times.

However, the footage inside the cave itself is simply remarkable. The cave paintings appear so fresh and new that if one did not know, one might have thought they were recently made. Moreover, the fossils (including footprints of a child), bring a great connection between us and our distant ancestors. We also get some beautiful imagery of the natural world within the Chauvet Cave: the light reflecting appears so beautiful and otherworldly.

However, Cave of Forgotten Dreams doesn't just deal with the Chauvet Cave itself. We also get interviews with those who work at documenting the cave and who study the times of those who created the paintings. Among the highlights is the interview with Wulf Hein, an "experimental archaeologist who appears on screen in full caveman garb (which may be historically accurate but which adds that bizarre Herzogian touch of the bizarre). As is his want, Herzog digs deeper (no pun intended) about the world of the Chauvet Cave painters, including the idealization of the female form as they would have seen it.

If there is one simply extraordinary line in Cave of Forgotten Dreams, it's spoken by Herzog in his distinctly soft, Teutonic accent, it's this one when mentioning the Willendorf Venus:

There seems to have existed a visual convention extending all the way beyond Baywatch.

One wouldn't have even imagined Herzog would even have heard of Baywatch, let alone know what it was best known for. Then again, he is German and Baywatch star David Hasselhoff is a big star there.

We learn near the end of Cave of Forgotten Dreams that there are plans to recreate the Chauvet Cave as a theme park for tourists, even to attempt to recreate the odors within the cave. In one way, it makes sense: the Lascaux Cave has been closed since the 1960s because the constant stream of visitors brought damage to the paintings. However, there does appear to be something odd about the need to recreate locations, perhaps bordering on kitsch. Perhaps Herzog could have explored (no pun intended) that aspect.

He might also have done without the coda in the post-script: at the Rhone River Nuclear Power Plant, there is a greenhouse that contains albino crocodiles. Herzog speculated on how the crocodiles would think of the Chauvet Cave paintings, and I think about how alien it would look to them.

I don't think those are flaws per se, but how the albino crocodiles tie into the earliest known cave paintings of extraordinary craftsmanship he doesn't seem to answer.

Where Cave of Forgotten Dreams excels is when we can see not just the paintings themselves, but when we are reminded that these were individuals with life, not dusty shadows from a long-lost past. We see this when our attention is drawn to a series of hand-marks in red. We know these hand-prints were from the same person because of the "crooked little finger" the prints have in common. We find that this unknown figure was attempting to create something, and that makes him similar to a Herzog, a man who also attempts to create art.

Sadly, I was not able to see Cave of Forgotten Dreams in 3-D (which would have been one of the few times I would have eagerly gone for a film style that I think is The Work of The Devil). For some reason, a 3-D documentary from a German director wasn't considered a potential money-maker for a West Texas audience. However, one of the glories of the film is that nothing appears lost in 2-D, so the film stands on its own.

Cave of Forgotten Dreams does I think tie in with Herzog's fascination with creativity and with obsession, this time about leaving a mark for the future (in the case of the child's footprint inside the cave, in a literal sense). The film explores (no pun intended) the need to create, to express one's world to the best of one's ability. It has beautiful imagery of a world we will never know, and a place we will never be able to go into. Man creates, man endures, Herzog seems to say, and Cave of Forgotten Dreams is our entry into this lost underground world.

A Thing of Beauty...

DECISION: B-

Its Prosperas Look Dim

2012-01-04T08:38:00.000-07:00

THE TEMPEST

I figure any reason to see Shakespeare would be a good thing. It's no secret that I love Shakespeare and have never understood why people appear so afraid of him. I think it has to do with the fact that we're taught to think of Shakespeare almost as holy text, and in school he's given a reverence that makes him almost unapproachable and worse, boring. Moreover, the language sounds rather grand, especially today when the word "like" is inserted as a pause ('It's like we were like really lost like we couldn't find like the house) and the words 'friend' and 'text' are now verbs.

The Tempest is one of my favorite Shakespeare plays, so I would go into Julie Taymor's version eager to see a great adaptation. This version of The Tempest isn't terrible, but one wonders if Taymor opted to focus more on the visuals than on the text which diminished the story and distracted from one of the great works of literature.

There is a storm at sea, overtaking the Alonzo, King of Naples (David Straithairn), his son Ferdinand (Reeve Carney), Antonio Duke of Milan (Chris Cooper), his brother Sebastian (Alan Cumming), their counselor Gonzalo (Tom Conti), and Alonzo's butler and clown Stephano and Trinculo (Alfred Molina and Russell Brand).   This storm is caused by the sorceress Prospera (Dame Helen Mirren), the rightful ruler of Milan, who had been forced into exile by Antonio, along with her daughter Miranda (Felicity Jones). On the isle, Prospera is served by her slaves, the spirit Ariel (Ben Whishaw) and the human Caliban (Djimon Hounsou).

Prospera shall have her revenge. With the promise of freedom to Ariel, he creates chaos for the shipwrecked crew, causing them to see monsters on their journey (sparing only the kind Gonzalo). Ferdinand and Miranda soon find each other (through Prospera's machinations) and fall instantly in love. Caliban, resenting his enslavement, is discovered by Stephano and Trinculo, mistakes the former for a god, and plans revolution. Eventually, all's well that ends well, with Prospera forgiving those who betrayed her, saving Alonzo from the plots of Antonio and Sebastian, and freeing Ariel.

The biggest change in this version of The Tempest is the casting of Mirren in the lead role of Prospera.  I figure even those with the most cursory knowledge of the play know that the role is for a man named Prospero. Truth be told, although under most circumstances I'm a Shakespeare purist I wasn't bothered by the gender-switch. Mirren is able to make us forget the role is for a man, although I kept thinking why would a woman be the rightful ruler when there was a man who could take the duchy. This is a time where male heirs take precedent over any woman if one is available.

The acting is good and bad. Mirren doesn't overdo the drama of Prospero's dilemma (although when we first see her rule the storm it is inadvertently funny). Actually, besides Mirren, almost everyone else is rather bad. I don't think Ferdinand and Miranda are suppose to be so boring in their insipid portrayal of love, but somehow Jones (praised perhaps too much for Like Crazy) and Carney looked dim and lifeless as these two young lovers. They never looked like they were actually in love, more like they were rehearsing for a high school production where they did a parody of dull teens.

Whether Carney and Jones were going for making Miranda and Ferdinand a dull, dim couple I cannot say for certain. They however, were subtle while the 'comic relief' were so over-the-top I didn't laugh. Hounsou was the worst: with his exaggerated body moments and delivery, he fell into the trap of playing Shakespeare as if it were Scripture, to be treated with reverence rather than attempt to make it sound like real speech. Molina and Brand (a 'comedic genius' I'm told) weren't funny when the dialogue opened itself up to make the two drunks a great source of laughter.  In the case of the latter, I think it comes from the fact we can't forget he's Russell Brand, a most unfunny man who appears to be either playing himself or found himself wandering into a Shakespeare production unaware of where he's at.

The decision to have Molina and Brand skip the Shakespeare text and go for swearing as if they were in another film altogether (I heard both say f--- wasn't a good choice since I don't remember that when I read the play in high school) did not help matters.

Again and again, I couldn't find where the actors could make the script sound like dialogue. Instead, they made it sound like it was a Shakespeare performance, treating the words with respect but not bringing it to life. We see this with Alonzo's court: the delivery of all of them was one where we could make out that it was a 'performance': grand and slightly exaggerated rather than simple and direct.

I find this is another reason why people tend to shy away from my beloved Shakespeare: the performances, be it on stage or most of the times on the screen, tend to overemphasize the words and gestures rather than treat the words and actions as natural. It's rare when we see Shakespeare treated as if it were real (Franco Zeffirelli's version of Romeo & Juliet and Taming of the Shrew, and more recently Ralph Fiennes' Coriolanus are good examples of making Shakespeare real). Yet I digress.

Besides Mirren, I think Ben Whishaw's Ariel did a better job than almost everyone else. He could have been more mischievous and his eagerness, perhaps naivete, for freedom could have been better, but on the whole he relished causing trouble.

The biggest issue with The Tempest (apart from being far too reverential of the text) is that Taymor at times let the visuals take precedent. Some scenes were wildly inventive and had the distinct Taymor touch (as when Ariel torments Alonzo's Court by appearing as a Harpy), and some didn't (as when the hounds of hell pursue said Court). Moreover, Elliot Goldenthal's score was a hit and miss affair: the rock riffs were distracting.

I will say that Sandy Powell's costumes were worthy of an Academy Award nomination.

As it stands, this version of The Tempest isn't as good as one hopes it would be. Taymor couldn't help herself in making the grandness of the visuals the central focus of the film, while allowing the actors the over-play their roles. I shall always love Shakespeare and The Tempest, but this version of The Tempest is not the stuff dreams are made of.

DECISION: C-

My Buddy, My Body

2012-01-03T08:45:00.000-07:00

THE CHANGE-UP

I'm of an age that I can remember where these 'body-switching' movies were all the rage, though granted 18 Again! with George Burns and Charlie Schlatter isn't the best-known in this subgenre. There may be a resurgence, with 17 Again (not a prequel to 18 Again!) and now The Change-Up. I know The Change-Up isn't reinventing the wheel when it comes to body-crossing films, so one should go into it without thinking we're going to get great wit and/or wisdom from it. However, when you keep writing the phrase 'cringe-inducing', you have to say the entire thing should have been rethought.

Mitch (Ryan Reynolds) and Dave (Jason Bateman) have been friends since childhood. Now both men in their mid-thirties couldn't have more different lives. Dave is a harried father of three who burns the midnight oil as an attorney. Mitch is a high school drop-out and sometimes-actor (no Reynolds jokes, please) who has no interest beyond the parade of women he screws. Dave's life revolves around becoming partner and his wife Jamie (Leslie Mann) while Mitch revolves around himself. One night, while drunkenly urinating into a fountain, they tell each other they want each other's lives.

Cue Freaky Friday.

Mitch wakes up in Dave's body and Vice-Versa. As is always the case, they switch bodies on the most important day of their lives: Mitch the high-school dropout must head up a major merger meeting, and Dave the tightly-wound attorney and family man must appear in a major movie (which I discovered is called a 'lorno' or 'light porno'). Needless to say, they botch their respective jobs. The horndog Mitch as Dave must control himself from having sex with Jamie while the ever-faithful Dave as Mitch must keep up Mitch's sex life. Hilarity ensues.

As is the case in films like these, both learn valuable life lessons (Dave to enjoy life, Mitch to take responsibility). Dave as Mitch now romances Dave's legal aide Sabrina (Olivia Wilde) and Mitch as Dave teaches his own manners of dealing with bullies to Dave's daughter. Finally, the friends are able to find the magic fountain (which would require them to urinate into it--even if it is inside a mall), and at last, both men return and become better men.

Now, while The Change-Up is billed as a film "from the director of Wedding Crashers (David Dobkin) and the writers of The Hangover" (Jon Lucas and Scott Moore), their collaboration doesn't have either the humor or the heart of either. What it has is a lot of lowbrow humor. It can't be a good sign when the film begins with baby poop literally flying into someone's mouth. It only gets worse from there.

I figure Lucas and Moore decided it would be outrageously funny to have scenes where our characters go through some simply horrible actions, but the only results are scenes that are more revolting than humorous. As I've stated previously, I wrote the words "cringe-inducing" at least three times while making notes for The Change-Up. The 'lorno' scene wasn't funny, not because it forced the straight-laced Dave in Mitch's body to break his wedding vows and perform sex in front of people, but because it gets too graphic.

The weak direction where the actors are trying so hard to make it funny does not help.

Far more grotesque is the sex scene where Tatiana (Mircea Monroe), Mitch's 'friend with benefits' comes storming into his apartment. We are treated to a woman disrobing to reveal an outrageously pregnant woman attempting to all but rape Mitch. The fact that Mitch would find sex with a heavily pregnant highly erotic isn't funny. It isn't even sad. It's sick. Sick, sick, sick. The scene goes on for far too long, only to grow sicker (one questions whether both Tatiana and Mitch are just a touch insane).

Let's top that with a scene where the inept Mitch-as-Dave attempts to feed Dave's twins. In a film with both better directing and more compassion for the characters in the script, we could have had a scene that could have been funny/touching. Instead, we get frankly-horrifying scenes where babies come perilous close to dying by electrocution or filleting themselves. Somehow, putting infants in mortal danger doesn't strike me as a source of comedy.

Again, I have to remember The Change-Up goes by a paint-by-numbers structure: we see our character's lives, they switch bodies, have to do the other's job (and failing at first), learn their lesson, and return to their bodies to be better men. However, it is hard to accept that neither Mitch or Dave wouldn't at least try to function or compromise. How Dave could continue being friends with someone who doesn't appear non-plussed to have sex with his wife (or have sex with a woman apparently minutes from going into labor) we don't know, or how Mitch could suddenly grasp legal minutia in a few weeks without any help from Dave or Sabrina we don't know either.

What makes The Change-Up really bad (besides the weak directing, a script too reliant on gross-out juvenile humor, and flat characters) is that we could have had a great deal of fun with Reynolds and Bateman playing against type. Bateman, who specializes in tightly-wound men (see Horrible Bosses) showed he could easily slip into a bit of a dimwitted man-whore. Reynolds, who specializes in dimwitted man-whores (see Green Lantern--well, don't really; just an example), wasn't as good as he could have been as the now-reticent Dave.

Side note: the biggest question in The Change-Up really should be, 'how do you get Ryan Reynolds our of Alan Arkin (who plays Mitch's father)? The fact that we're given these subplots about Mitch's frayed relationship with his father and Dave's relationship with Jamie without really having a reason for having them (Arkin appears in the beginning and twice in the last half-hour) is the attempt to have some human stories tied in to the general gross-out and sex-obsessed humor and mayhem, but since they don't go anywhere they leave one puzzled as to why they are there in the first place.

There are some moments of laughter (when Dave-as-Mitch gives questionable guidance to Dave's daughter) but there is just too much reliance on dumb and dirty comedy and characters who go through the same tired motions to make The Change-Up worth your time. If you didn't see it at the theaters, consider yourself lucky. If you see The Change-Up on television, you should just change-up the channel.

DECISION: D-

Pinning Down The Truth

2012-01-02T08:14:00.000-07:00

WIN WIN

There was always the risk that the subject of Win Win (a troubled teen and the family that takes him in) will become a maudlin, mushy effort. However, the people in front of and behind the camera make Win Win a true-to-life story that doesn't turn sentimental or saccharine-sweet but that takes the time to make the characters realistic, balancing comedy with drama.

Mike (Paul Giamatti) is a lawyer and volunteer wrestling coach who's hit hard times. Financially strapped, he finds that he can earn a little income by becoming the guardian of a senior, Leo (Burt Young). The deal is that in exchange for the monthly guardian fee Leo can stay at his home rather than be put in a retirement home. Mike takes the money but dumps Leo at the home anyway. Mike's wife Jackie (Amy Ryan) is kept in the dark about both Leo and the Flaherty finances, with only Mike's friend Terry (Bobby Cannavale) aware of the subterfuge.

Things are going well, until the sudden appearance of Leo's grandson Kyle (Alex Shaffer), son of Leo's estranged wife. With nowhere to put Kyle, Mike has no choice but to take him in. Fortunately for Mike, he discovers Kyle is a natural wrestler. Despite the misgivings of Mike's fellow coach Stephen (Jeffrey Tambor), he not only agrees to put Ryan on the team (and have wrestling enthusiast Terry as co-coach). Now things are starting to go well for both Mike and Kyle: the former now has a good wrestling team and a secret source of income, the latter (unaware that Leo should not be at the home), building a relationship with the grandfather he never knew and a stable home life.

Then we get a twist: Kyle's mother Cindy (Melanie Lynskey) comes back. She wants to be Leo's guardian, and at first Mike appears to cleverly use the law to stop her, but then Mike's deception is exposed. Kyle isn't happy to see his drug-addicted mother potentially wreck both his and Leo's life, prompting him to escape. In the end, a deal is worked out, and it does become a Win Win situation for all.

Again, all this could be hopelessly hokey. However, writer/director Tom McCarthy (with the story credited to McCarthy and Joe Tiboni) moves Win Win away from sentimentality by focusing on the characters rather than the story. Mike is shown not as greedy or heartless but as deeply flawed but basically a good man. We see this whenever we see him in a family setting; his relationship with Jackie, his own children and the wrestling students is real: loving but at times frustrated.

We also see this with the character of Kyle. In most films that would copy Win Win's formula, Kyle would start to thaw around the family. It doesn't quite happen: while we do have a montage of Kyle behaving like a regular teen around his classmates and the Flaherty family, he doesn't move far from his soft monotone speech. Moreover, Kyle doesn't have a major meltdown involving tears or hugging. In fact, Kyle in Win Win remains what he is: a teen beaten up a lot by life but who is still basically a kid, who has a passion for wrestling because it's something he's both good at and in control of.

This credit is due to the performances of all the cast. Giamatti specializes in schlubs facing great crises (see Sideways), and here, his Mike is someone who we see made a series of bad decisions based on his needs. Rather than open up to Jackie about the financial straits he finds himself in, he makes a snap decision about Leo. When presented with the complication of Kyle, again, he makes a snap decision, but throughout Win Win we never see him as a bad man. We get to like Mike (despite, or because of his flaws), and when we think he has triumphed over Cindy (who we see as a shameless golddigger), we do cheer him on because not only do we see that his unethical choices have reaped positive results but because it is actually good for Kyle.

It's a good thing to have the twist of Mike's secret coming out, because it's at this point that Mike shows himself to be a good man. Yet I digress.

The other great performance comes from Shaffer in his first role. The former school wrestler doesn't make Kyle the typical troubled teen (a kid who acts out to cover his yearning for love). Instead, Kyle as performed by Shaffer is a regular teen who hasn't been given stability until reaching the Flahertys (who are by no means perfect). His directness and honesty show he is in many ways an innocent, a mixture of wisdom and youthful naivete.

While Cannavale and Ryan have supporting roles, both of them are also great to see. Cannavale's Terry has his own issues (his now ex-wife has shacked up with the contractor he had hired) but in his passion for wrestling (almost a child-like enthusiasm), Cannavale shows a flair for comedy I may not have appreciated before. (Side note: at times his story, which might make a film in itself, did appear to drop off once the Kyle story took center stage, but perhaps this is a slight misstep).

Ryan as Jackie is not the silent wife: far from it. Throughout Win Win Jackie isn't ashamed to let Mike know what she thinks about letting Kyle into their house, then about Kyle's mother. Ryan never makes Jackie into some sort of shrew, but instead a woman who loves and can't imagine how anyone would behave the way they do. When she objects to Kyle's smoking, it isn't in a lecturing or mothering tone, but as one of a woman in charge. When she shows her displeasure at Cindy's behavior, it's as a mother who knows this is not how a parent should behave.

What we should remember about Win Win is that it is suppose to be a comedy (this is highlighted by Lyle Workman's score). A lot of comedy comes from the wrestling team: one particularly funny moment comes from when reluctant wrestler Stemler (David Thompson) finally faces his fear of actually wrestling only to be scared off by the opponent in what Stemler calls a 'Darth Vader' mask. However, even in the midst of comedy, we have such human and for lack of a better word, heartwarming and tender, moments. Kyle, who has made friends with Stemler, rallies him to face Darth Vader, and we feel for both of them.

If any scene in Win Win sticks out to me as to how well McCarthy balanced humor and heart, it is when Kyle rejects Mike for both deceiving Leo and having Cindy pop back in his life. When the Flahertys walk away, Jackie turns and says, "Just so that you know I love you". In any other film this would have been built up to a big moment: swelling music, hugs, tears. Here, she says it as a statement of fact, as if she has to tell him what she feels not for Kyle's own sake but for her own, almost to make it clear to Kyle that his decisions will affect more than just him. The fact that she said it directly, almost snapping at him, brings out the best in Win Win: a film that doesn't shy away from having flawed characters live as realistically as possible. The film allows the characters to behave as people we might know, and with the film having such real characters makes Win Win a strong film.

We have a comedy where the people are flawed, the resolutions are natural without being forced, and characters we all care about. The performances are sharp, funny, and touching. Win Win is most accurate.

DECISION: B+

In Low Resolution

2012-01-01T20:54:00.000-07:00

I don't make New Year's Resolutions. I figure why wait until the beginning of a calendar year to start something. Why not start today?

However, I am a firm believer in setting goals. I have met some of mine (membership in the Online Film Critics Society, of which I take great pride in saying I'm a Member in Good Standing), and recently, I have met most of my goal of cleaning out my desk.

Now, what does throwing out endless amounts of paper have to do with film reviewing? Well, nothing really, but it does go to my idea of setting goals. With that, I have some goals for Rick's Cafe that I hope to either meet or improve on in the year of Our Lord 2012.

A.) A Silent Film A Month

Even before The Artist, to misquote a song, "I was silent films when silent films weren't cool". I have always thought that silent films had been relegated to the netherworld of cinema, like antiques one kept around but didn't see any use for or anyone interested in. Unfortunately, so many silent films are now lost or incomplete. I have always thought it a tragedy that only 20 seconds of Theda Bara's version of Cleopatra are known to exist, but we'll have endless copies of The Hangover Part II to plague us forever. Fortunately, some films have survived, and some reemerged, such as a nearly complete version of Metropolis recently rediscovered in Buenos Aires in 2008.

With that, I have a goal to watch and review at least one silent film (my small contribution to bring attention to the genre). Somewhere I have a list of the twelve films I want to review...I hope in my eagerness to clean out I didn't dump the list.

B.) Finish the Retrospectives

I had finished the Harry Potter and Planet of the Apes retrospectives, where I watched all the films in the series and threw in my own comparisons, rankings, and personal reflections on them. However, I realize I have one more to complete and quite a few to begin.

The one I had all but stopped working on was the Star Trek retrospective, which isn't good since I have all but finished with the Original crew and was about to begin with the Next Generation stories. Therefore, I have a goal of finishing out the Star Trek retrospective (a daunting task given I'm not anywhere near a Trekker/Trekkie).

However, I also have one large retrospective facing me, in fact the biggest one I've ever tackled.

To commemorate the release of Skyfall, I've decided to watch all 23 previous James Bond films (including the non-canonical Never Say Never Again). I hope that because Skyfall is scheduled for November, I will be able to finish before its release (no guarantees). I like the Bond films (well, most of them, anyway), so I don't consider this a burden.

I also feel slightly overwhelmed by the plethora of superhero films about to be unleashed in 2012. We've got The Amazing Spider-Man, The Dark Knight Rises, and The Avengers, and then we've got Man of Steel, Iron-Man 3, and Thor 2 in 2013 (if the world doesn't end courtesy of the Maya). Therefore, I'd like to begin (and end) a series of retrospectives on the Spider-Man films, the Batman films (including the 1966 adaptation of the television series), and the Superman series.

I come from a unique perspective since I never read comic books as a child. In fact, I take great pride in never knowing the difference between Marvel and DC Comics or the characters from which they sprung from. I therefore am not hampered if something doesn't stay true to the comics and am not slavishly devoted to the characters. I can, as a result, judge the film based on its own merits.

C.) THE ESSENTIALS: A RETURN

My friend Fidel Gomez, Jr. (who may or may not be dead) and I compiled a list of 52 films, one a week, that every person should watch. We called our list The Essentials (with apologies to Turner Classic Movies, we were unaware of your show). We made a list, checked it twice, the ones that were on both our lists automatically made it to the Final List, then it was a fight to see which of our choices survived.

We argued over some of them, sometimes quite vociferously. Fidel was pretty persistent our James Bond choice be The Man With the Golden Gun, but I held firm with Goldfinger. He also wanted 8 1/2 for our Fellini, but my heart was set on La Dolce Vita. However, I lost out my choice for the Charlton Heston Biblical epic, and thus Ben-Hur won over The Ten Commandments. I also lost out on our David Lynch feature: I could not shake Fidel's view that The Elephant Man trumped Blue Velvet, so I finally had to give up on one of my favorite Lynch films. We were so unable to agree to an Ingmar Bergman film, so I let Fidel pick, and he chose Fanny and Alexander.

I was dead-set against Pulp Fiction and Fidel did not want Sherlock, Jr. (or any Buster Keaton) on The Essentials, and to get them in we had to do a bit of horse-trading. He wanted Terms of Endearment? He had to take the 1953 House of Wax. I was desperate to get The Wizard of Oz, so I had to surrender on Sinbad & The Eye of the Tiger.

Our list wasn't going to be the Greatest Films ever made (thus, bye-bye, Citizen Kane, hello Shawshank Redemption), and we were determined that it be from a wide variety of genres. We wanted musicals and science-fiction (mercifully, we both agreed Singin' in the Rain and Aliens should be seen by everyone), documentaries (no major arguments over Microcosmos or Michelangelo: Self-Portrait), foreign-language (from the German Aguirre, Wrath of God to the French/Arabic The Battle of Algiers), and some films we felt are great but perhaps not recognized or remembered as such (Glory, Stand By Me, Mrs. Doubtfire, The Last Emperor). After a lot of discussion, we settled on a list we both could live with.

And that, Washington, is what is called 'compromise'.

Fidel disappeared from my life before we could get started on our book. He said he was going to Colorado to see his sister, and I expected him to contact me when he got back. He never did. I sent text messages, called his unreliable cell phone (never had his home phone), but still nothing. I thought about stopping by his house, but frankly I kept getting lost along the way. In fairness to me, if he's still around, he hasn't contacted me. Truth be told, I miss him terribly.

In any case, I decided to keep The Essentials going by reviewing all our 52 choices. Well, technically 56, but since three selections were trilogies, we decided they made up one large story and figured that covered us in counting them as 52. I got as far as Ben-Hur, but I got overwhelmed by recent releases and then just let it lapse.

2012, I hope to go back to The Essentials and complete them.

Those are my Goals for 2012. I hope to keep finding great films in this upcoming year, and warning people against the Green Hornets, Green Lanterns, and I Melt With Yous of this year.

As always, I remember my motto for Rick's Cafe Texan, from the words of the Great Orson Welles:

To the Movies, to Good Movies, to Every Possible Kind!

A Genius By Any Other Name...

2012-01-01T00:05:00.050-07:00

He's No Shakespeare

PERSONAL REFLECTIONS ON ANONYMOUS

Oh, what fools these Oxfordians be. There is this persistence in trying to pass the man above, Edward De Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford, as the "real" William Shakespeare, aka the actual author of the plays for which dear old Willy is credited for. There is this stubbornness to the Oxford Brigade (as I lovingly call them, among other things), these men and women who are absolutely convinced that the actor/producer of the Globe Theater could not possibly have written all the plays and sonnets that bear his name.

Now, with Anonymous, we're suppose to have the low-down dirty truth: the glover's son is not the actual genius behind Romeo & Juliet, The Tempest, King Lear, A Midsummer Night's Dream, or Hamlet (among many, many more). Instead, it's suppose to be the guy above.

When I went to see Anonymous, I went with a bright young kid named Bryan (well, bright for a twenty-one year old, but I digress). At the end of the film (which wasn't cinematically as horrible as I thought it was going to be, but historically...dubious, perhaps), he asked me if it really mattered who wrote the Shakespearean plays. My answer is simple:

It Damn Well Does.

To say that William Shakespeare did not write the plays of William Shakespeare is to deny the credit to the rightful person (if indeed he did write them). It may not matter in terms of 'we still have the plays to enjoy', and if any conclusive, positive, incontrovertible proof exists that De Vere is the actual author of the works of Shakespeare, then it matters that the true genius be recognized. If anything, I'm big on giving credit where credit is due.

However, from what I've seen and read, I find nothing that proves the charges of the Shakespeare deniers (another term for the Oxfordians). Instead, what I found among the Shakespeare deniers to support their theory is nothing less than pure snobbery.

I decided that the best thing to do was to do a little research in the matter. For that, I listened to the audiobook of "Shakespeare" By Another Name: A Biography of Edward De Vere, Earl of Oxford, The Man Who Was Shakespeare by Mark Anderson. It would be best to try to listen to both sides. Perhaps I was wrong, and the world was wrong. Perhaps De Vere was this true genius.

As I listened, I became both disheartened and enthralled. From what Anderson and the Shakespeare deniers believe, their proof is purely coincidental. It goes like this: De Vere was in Venice, he had money troubles, and there were Jews in Venice...hence, he obviously wrote The Merchant of Venice. Again and again, Anderson (and the Oxford Brigade) gleams bits of De Vere's biography to fit the plays. The hunchback Richard III was obviously based on Richard Cecil, De Vere's brother-in-law. De Vere WAS King Lear. It's plain as day.

From what I heard, the only proof they had was in how they tied points in his life to the writings. If we go by that standard, Agatha Christie was some sort of serial killer. I think authors do put a little bit of themselves in their work, but if we accept the Oxford Brigade's hypothesis, De Vere was basically writing his autobiography. Curiously, that leaves little room for something required of all authors: imagination.

Where "Shakespeare By Another Name" really goes off the rails in the Oxfordian fanaticism to prove De Vere=Shakes Peare is when we get to William Shakespeare's grave in Stratford-upon-Avon. Here, we get a cavalcade of bizarre assertions:

that the 'curse' on his grave is a lousy poem for a genius like Shakespeare, that his effigy proves he wasn't the actual author of the Shakespeare plays because the quill is not shown to be touching the paper (!) and that the effigy makers knew he didn't write anything (hence he appears to write but doesn't actually do so), and that the comparisons to Virgil and Socrates also subtlety show everyone knew William Shakespeare didn't write anything because we don't have any parchments or papyri in Virgil or Socrates' own hand, and neither do we have Shakespeare's own writings either.

At the end of the book, I asked myself, 'when did this turn into the literary version of The DaVinci Code? Are these people serious, or have they gone so far off the deep end they read nefarious clues into the most mundane of matters? This bit about Shakespeare's own grave proving that Shakespeare did not write the Shakespearean plays is just stupid. There's no other word for it. Stupid. If that's the proof they are presenting, it be laughed out of court.

Now, the big thing against Bill is that he was 'too uneducated' to have written on the matter of courts and kings. If we are going by that basis, I demand to see Robert Heinlein's Doctorate in Chemistry or Physics--obviously, he didn't have the education to write The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress, Stranger in a Strange Land or Starship Troopers. James Ackroyd's Shakespeare: The Biography (which I also listened to) made the very strong case that Shakespeare, far from being the ignorant country boy Sir Derek Jacobi and his ilk believe him to be, was quite educated and had the appropriate education for his day.

How many of us can read Ovid in Latin? Actually, how many of us read Ovid, period, let alone in elementary school? THIS was the type of education the Oxford Brigade insists was 'below par' to write the sonnets. Somehow, I think Jacobi or David McCullough read Latin for pleasure, let alone read it in school (I have no way of knowing for certain, but I'm taking a guess they didn't and don't). If we go by that standard, then THEY, not Willie, are the uneducated ones.

Now, at last, are my views on the matter. I love Shakespeare, and while I don't consider myself of an elevated social position or of greatly-elevated intelligence, I have never had difficulty following Shakespeare when I see it on stage or screen. Granted, the language is a bit foreign to modern ears, but it isn't hard to make out what the characters are trying to say. As a lover of Shakespeare, I believe William Shakespeare, actor/producer, is the author of the plays of William Shakespeare. We don't have proof that Edward De Vere actually wrote the plays: no manuscripts, no literary turns of phrases from the few works definitely acknowledged as De Vere's to those credited to Shakespeare (if anything, authors tend to write drafts--with the exception of Mozart, but that's another matter).

William Shakespeare wrote William Shakespeare. I think the mission to deny him credit for his extraordinary body of work is a result of our modern-day obsession with conspiracy (in the same way people still refuse to believe that John F. Kennedy was assassinated by Lee Harvey Oswald and that Oswald acted alone). There are people who believe the Lunar landing was done on a Hollywood stage and the Diana, Princess of Wales was murdered. People are free to believe whatever they wish, but they should be relegated to the 'nutter' category if they can only come up with conjecture, not solid proof. In the few law courses I've taken, I learned that absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.

This is where the Shakespeare deniers excel: they don't have any actual proof that De Vere wrote anything other than what has been established to be his, so they argue that the very lack of evidence is proof. At the very least, they make grand excuses for their lack of evidence: he wasn't recognized as the true author because it wasn't done in Elizabethan society (so why not reveal himself during the reign of James I? Oh, right--he's dead within a year of James' ascension to the throne). Can't you see the connection between De Vere and Romeo, or Hamlet, or Falstaff? I know a lot of young men in the throes of passion, young men who vacillate a lot, and a few fat spendthrifts--you think they'd make equally good candidates?

Yet I digress. My second idea as to why Shakespeare is being stripped of his title of The Bard is because of a curious sense of snobbery/elitism. How can this "glover's son" be smarter than the earls and dukes and viscounts at Court? Well, power and a wealthy background doth not a bright man make (just ask George W. Bush) any more than a humble background makes one an idiot (just ask Abraham Lincoln). The people who support anyone but Shakespeare don't want to believe someone from a lowly background can have such great insight into humanity. Someone more educated must be wiser. Hardly the case, I'd argue.

My love for Shakespeare is unending. My belief that William Shakespeare wrote William Shakespeare has not been disproven. I have full faith that in the end, the Sweet Swan of Avon will not be displaced by that rakish nobleman the 17th Earl of Oxford or by anyone else as the ultimate in English literature.

He wrote the plays. Get Over It!

True Tebowtion

2011-12-31T12:00:00.029-07:00

This is the third of brief columns on stories I didn't get around to until now.

I've earned an especially unfair reputation for being not only anti-Tim Tebow, but apparently, anti-God. And perhaps therein lies the problem with young Timmy and his open proclamations of faith in Jesus Christ. It seems that you can't be one without being the other. In short, any criticism of Tebow is tantamount to a criticism of Jesus, and unless I missed something in the pages of the New Testament, one can be critical of how Tebow shows his faith (and even his football skills) without being critical of the faith itself.

Tebow has now become an Icon to many of my brethren, who see in him a great witness and witnessing tool for the cause of Christ. Allow me to play Devil's Advocate (although I suppose some of my more devout friends would already see me as The Devil for not jumping on the Tebow-wagon, but I digress).

Mr. Tebow has a unique position within the NFL: he can pretty much say and do anything without facing some of the penalties we would if we tried them. Therefore, he can go to one knee in prayer without facing fines or reprimands. Perhaps this is why so many are apt to follow his example, sometimes literally:

Thus we get the new verb, "tebowing", which is from what I understand an act of worship. I don't begrudge Tebow for showing us 'a new way to pray', so to speak. However, all his followers appear to be missing the point altogether.

It isn't suppose to be about Tim Tebow. It's suppose to be about Jesus Christ.

I go to the case of Connor and Tyler Carroll, two 17-year-olds who were suspended for 'tebowing' in their high school. Now, I figure at first glance this is terribly unfair to the Carroll brothers and those who participated with them: they were merely showing their devotion to Christ (at least I hope it was Christ, not Tebow himself). This is persecution for the Faith, they may argue.

However, here is where I differ from our young men. There is a time and place for all things, and dropping to one knee in the hallway is not the time and place. I support the free expression of all faiths, but I also know that just as it would be inappropriate for me to drop to my knee and 'tebow' in the middle of the library, it is also inappropriate for kids to do the same in the middle of their school.

As I grow older, I feel I'm getting a bit more moderate in my way of looking at the world. I think of Tim Tebow, and I think he has inadvertently allowed himself to be the source of admiration, dare I say, worship, while Christ himself is not the main point of interest. Despite being from the University of Florida I figure Tebow has some intelligence (that was suppose to be a joke; I'm no Gator Hater). However, Tebow has always used his prominence on the football field to promote his faith (say, through messages on his face while playing). Maybe it's because I'm more in the St. Francis of Assisi mindset, but somehow I think you show your faith best by doing, not by wearing.

I'm frankly, a bit torn on this. I don't think there is anything wrong with someone being of deep faith and having it impact every aspect of their lives. However, there's something I can't warm up to about how Tebow is being made out to be a hero of some kind because he is so open about his Christianity.

One wonders if my fellow Christians would be so embracing of Tim Tebow if he insisted on wearing a yarmulke and refused to play on the Sabbath, or if he insisted on turning to Mecca during a game. I get the feeling they would be irked at the idea that a Jewish or Moslem Tebow would use football to promote Judaism or Islam, so to my mind while one should respect his faith one must be wary of using him as a vehicle to bring people to Christ. As far as I know, no one became a Christian because Kurt Warner pulled off a great Super Bowl.

I suppose this is my beef with Tim Tebow and 'tebowing' itself (apart from the fact I think he's highly overrated as a quarterback, but that's another discussion). As much as he may protest to the contrary, it isn't about Christ. It's about Tim Tebow. In a strange sense, it's Tebow that's being admired, even worshipped (though not literally, and I'm sure he'd be the first to say that he shouldn't be the object of veneration, but Jesus Christ).

To me, the true heroes aren't the Tim Tebows or Kurt Warners or Drew Breeses or Colt McCoys. Instead, the true heroes are people like this:

Yubelina Hgato, a young Indonesian woman attacked for being a Christian. She is disfigured, but only physically. Internally, in her spirit, she is beyond beautiful, for she still maintains her faith in Christ despite all obstacles.

The true heroes aren't Tim Tebow. Instead, they are people like this:

A family of Coptic Christians in Egypt killed for their faith in Christ. If any group deserves the title of 'martyr', it would be them.

In short, it's easy to "tebow" in the United States, but there is nothing heroic about it. Heroic are those who literally are being beaten, tortured, even killed for following the Messiah Tim Tebow talks so much about. These are the people I admire, not Tim Tebow. I don't question Tebow's faith, but I worry that he is allowing himself to be the source of discussion and admiration. Being able to throw a football and then talk about Jesus isn't a terrible thing. However, to my mind, actions speak louder than words.

In that sense, my Coptic brothers and sisters, those Christians killed in Iraq, imprisoned in North Korea, burned in India and Indonesia, beaten up in Central America, THOSE are my heroes. Those are the people I look up to. I can only hope that my brothers and sisters in Christ think of them a little bit more and Tebow a little bit less.

So Dark These Waters

2011-12-31T01:44:00.000-07:00

1938-1981

This is the second of a brief series of columns I didn't get around to until now.

It's been thirty years since Natalie Wood's death at age 43. In those three decades, the exact circumstances of her death still evoke controversy. Was it murder, and if so by whom? Was it just a terrible accident that has been built up to be something darker, more sinister? Ever since she was found, floating on Catalina Bay, the details as to what led to her death have fueled speculation.

What makes Wood's death more tragic was that she had an intense fear of water, particularly drowning. Her fear was so great that she was terrified of a scene in Splendor in the Grass which required her to put her head underwater in a bathtub. Mind you, it was in a bathtub, where she would have easily and quickly pulled herself out from beneath the waters, was on land, and had a whole crew around her should her panic overwhelm her and freeze her under the water. The fact that she did indeed die by drowning appears to make it the final, demented coda to her aquaphobia.

Now, the investigation into her death has been reopened. I can give my own views that in the end, the findings will remain the same: an accidental death, nothing more, nothing less. However, I believe that in the ensuing brouhaha over Natalie Wood's final moments, we are running a risk of forgetting something more important.

Natalie Wood was a star as well as a talented actress. Her legacy in films as varied as Miracle on 34th Street (which will always hold her as a child), Rebel Without A Cause (again, the epitome of the troubled teen) and Splendor in the Grass (who hasn't been overwhelmed by their first passionate romance) will attest to her abilities on screen. However, she was also a wife and devoted mother, and that's what I hope people will remember whenever the investigation is brought up.

It wasn't just the death of a star, a Hollywood legend, that is being investigated. It's the death of a woman who loved her children, and who loved her husband Robert Wagner (enough to marry him twice). I figure her daughters and Wagner, and Christopher Walken, the unwitting player in this tragedy, have endured enough in these three decades: the rumors, the speculation, the suspicions. Nothing has ever shown that Wagner was involved in Wood's death directly or indirectly. By all accounts, he seems to be a good man, though he admits there was a lot of drinking in the past. Be that as it may, there's something unseemly about the whispers of foul play against a man in his eighties when there hasn't been any solid proof against him.

In short, my views on the actual cause of Natalie Wood's death are unimportant. I wasn't there (if I were, I would have been a toddler). The real tragedy of Natalie Wood isn't just about what she could have done in film and television (or the stage, having been cast in a theatrical production of Anastasia, which would have been perfect for our Russian beauty). The real tragedy is for her family, who lost a wife and mother. This is true of all people who die under mysterious circumstances, and to focus more on the sordid "perhaps" or even the "what-ifs" diminishes the deaths.

Whether they find anything new only time will tell (my view is that they won't). It will always remain one of the great mysteries of Hollywood, but from my vantage point, it is not a sordid tale of murder, but a sad tale of a woman brought up to be a star, who grew into a strong actress, but who because of a series of tragic turns ended her last hours overwhelmed by the fear that had pervaded her entire life.

We have the films, small comfort but comfort nonetheless. For myself, I hope that Natasha has found peace, and that we allow her to rest in peace.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Dictator

2011-12-30T09:55:00.000-07:00

This is the first of a brief series of columns on stories I didn't get around to until now.

Actors are not immune from doing or saying amazingly stupid things. On the contrary, they sometimes thrive on it. Don't believe me? I offer the following: Kutcher, Ashton; Lohan, Lindsay; Gibson, Mel. Well, maybe not the third, but certainly the first two.

I always give people the benefit of the doubt. This is why I'm not going to be particularly hard on Hilary Swank for cooing sweet nothings to Razman Kadryov on his 35th birthday. Now, who is Razman Kadryov? Well, he just happens to be the President of Chechnya, a man who among his other accomplishments are allegedly assaulting women in saunas and having opponents killed left right and center.

Now, granted Swank didn't really whisper words of love to Kadryov (a man beloved by ex-KGB man and current 'Prime Mininster' Vladimir Putin and his bitch, 'President' Dmitry Medvedev, a pair not exactly known for their gentle touch). I don't even blame Swank for not knowing who Kadryov is (let's face it, I doubt Chechnya and their leadership comes up a lot in conversation). Then again, she did say she 'did her homework'. Well, she couldn't have gone through every little report from human rights groups (who has the time, what with reading of scripts like The Core, The Reaping, or Amelia).

What I DO hold Swank responsible for is for not doing any research (despite her protests to the contrary) and for ignoring human rights groups who advised her not to go.

I figure she didn't go because she has a passion for Grozny reconstruction. She went for the same reason we all go to work: to get paid. She went to this affair simply because there was cash involved.

Again, I don't hold Swank in contempt for wanting to earn a little cash (so hard being part of that 99% I imagine). However, I'm trying to think back if there were incidents like this before Swank, pop star Seal, and Jean-Claude Van Damme popped in to celebrate a potential tyrant. Did I miss Gloria Gaynor belting out I Will Survive to Syria's Hafez Al-Assad? Trying to recall if Ella Fitzgerald leaped out of a cake for Pol Pot. Maybe Rita Hayworth did a little bump and grind for Francisco Franco. No...I didn't think so.

Actors, singers, and entertainers have to earn a living. There is nothing wrong with that. The very successful ones earn a great deal of money. Again, nothing wrong with that. However, actors, singers, and entertainers who earn a great deal of money who basically rent themselves out for more money to A.) perform for people of disreputable backgrounds/associations and B.) lecture the rest of us for not paying more in taxes is really grotesque.

Somehow, I can't imagine that people who get paid $1 million (cue Doctor Evil) to sing a few songs have any right to join the kids going on about their student loans at Occupy Wall Street or their various spin-offs. If the Occupiers were smart, rather than have Jay-Z, Kanye West, or Russell Simmmons pop in to tell them to keep fighting the banks and have 'the rich' pay more in taxes, they'd ask Hova, "Can your wife donate the money she made from Gaddaffi's kid to me to pay off my loans?"

I think that, to me, is the most appalling thing about stars renting themselves out for some dough. Exactly how much is too much? If I were paid millions to perform, I'd be thrilled. Now I know they have to have entourages, managers, lawyers, agents, nice houses sheltered away from their fans. I don't begrudge them that or the fact that as people in the public eye, they need to have more security than a simple film reviewer/library employee.

However, the Protestant in me wonders if there has to be some limit to exactly whom I allow myself to be associated with. We all remember Beyoncé, singing At Last to the President and Mrs. Obama at their first dance as the 44th President of the United States and First Lady. The double meaning of the song was obvious: not only a beautiful love song (though, sorry Miss Knowles, it will always be Etta's song), but that 'at last', we got a black President. I'm sure she is proud of her association with that (as well she should be...it is always an honor to sing for The President). However, how does she justify this:

There she is, strutting her stuff for Mutassim Gaddaffi at a private New Year's Eve party. I don't think it's the same thing: singing for the son of the long-time iron-fisted dictator of Libya (joyfully and most sincerely dead) and singing for the President. Really, dear, did you need the money? Not paying you enough to make movies like Obsessed? Maybe I can believe, 'oh, she didn't know it was for a Gaddaffi she was "Sasha Fierce"-ing for', but then, shouldn't she have some curiosity as to who is footing the bill? At best, it makes her look dumb. At worst, it makes her look greedy and heartless (which I can't believe she is).

What is really appalling in all this is exactly who people like Beyoncé will figuratively sing for their supper. Let's imagine, if you will, that by some series of twists and turns of fate, of all people, Sarah Palin were elected President of the United States. Now, let's say the governor asks Beyoncé to sing at a pre-Inauguration party (and let's even throw in some cash rather than for the honor).

You really think Mrs. Z would sing for Sarah?

I think not. I'm sure she would respectfully and kindly decline the request. However, let's think on that for a moment. In the world of music and film, being associated in any way with someone like a Sarah Palin or even a moderate like Mitt Romney is outrageous, maybe damaging to your reputation. Being associated with a Gaddaffi or a Kadryov, merely good business (so long as no one finds out about it).

Now, Palin may be an absolute idiot unfit to be Mayor of Wasilla, let alone President of the United States. That's for the voting public to decide. However, despite the assertions of MSNBC and the DailyKos, Sarah Palin hasn't been involved directly or indirectly with murder, let alone rape, or torture of any kind. How any rational, intelligent person could go and sing or wish a happy birthday to someone who is dangerous if not downright evil, while hold their nose in the air against someone they didn't vote for simply boggles the mind.

Think on this: for the Inauguration of President Clinton and President Obama, you had a galaxy of stars. For the Inauguration of President George W. Bush, you had Ricky Martin and Jessica Simpson. There has to be something completely bonkers in my view when someone would rather sing for a Gaddaffi than for a Bush. If I had my choice, I'd sing for the President (even if I didn't vote for him) because A.) he is the leader of my country, B.) he is representing my country, and C.) it is an honor to do something in the name of my country. I wouldn't be saluting the man but what he represents: the United States of America, a thriving democracy, and the land that I love.

It wouldn't be an endorsement of his policies to sing for him. If that were the case, then we must assume Beyoncé endorses Muammar Gaddaffi and Hilary Swank endorses Razman Kadryov. I figure they don't, so then why would they (and many others in Hollywood) be so persnikety about performing for a President Bush, or Palin, or Romney?

Say what you will about Marilyn Monroe's intelligence, but at least SHE knew whom she was singing to.

Following The Law

2011-12-29T21:42:00.101-07:00

Look into his eyes. Put aside that they are beautiful. Put aside the fact that this is what an old-style movie star would have looked like if he had been around during the height of the MGM era.

Instead, concentrate on the fact that Jude Law can actually act, something that few of his generation can actually say. Law has excelled in certain films, but he has also made some simply abysmal choices (and no, I'm not referring to the nanny).

I recall the first Jude Law film I saw, and I think most people came to know him through Gattaca. If I remember correctly it wasn't just because he was a beautiful youth in the film that made him so memorable in the film (one which my friend Fidel Gomez, Jr.--who may or may not be dead--still sharply disagree on), but it was because behind the facade of the privileged young man there seemed to be not just anger at being in his situation, but because there was also boredom and frustration with his life before becoming paralyzed. He created a scene-stealing performance given that he was not the name star in Gattaca (that would have been Ethan Hawke and Uma Thurman).

It's a sign of how quickly he rose that a mere two years later came a role that came to burn itself in the memory of moviegoers and his first Oscar nomination: Dickie Greenleaf in The Talented Mr. Ripley. His role was that of, curiously enough, the privileged youth, an object of desire for both Matt Damon's Tom Ripley and Gwyneth Paltrow's Marge Sherwood. Law created a character one both envied and felt sorry for: someone who was oblivious to anyone other than himself, who was both caring and careless with others. He was the best of friends, but once he tired of you, he moved on. Dickie disappears from The Talented Mr. Ripley near half-way through the film, yet we keep remembering him. That's a sign of a great performance.

Somehow, it just seemed Jude Law would be both a big star and a respected actor. In fact, the constant jokes from Chris Rock about Jude Law's ubiquity at the Oscars one year got under Sean Penn's skin (and in fairness to Rock, I thought they were funny and not to be taken so seriously). However, no amount of talent (and Law has it) could save him from some curious choices, if not downright disasters.

Now, in fairness I have never seen Cold Mountain. In fact, the only thing I can think of when I hear Cold Mountain is a parody on MAD TV where the characters from Cold Mountain faced off against the characters from The Lord of the Rings on Family Feud, and Renee Zellweger's character was the chief object of ridicule, always shouting, "You ain't ever gonna git Cold Mountain" in her wild hillbilly voice. (For the record, even though I haven't seen Cold Mountain, I think that year's Best Supporting Actress was Shohreh Aghdashloo for House of Sand and Fog, who was clearly robbed to give Zellweger an Oscar that year for not getting it the previous two years earlier for Bridget Jones' Diary and Chicago). He was nominated, but since then we haven't heard much from him...at least that doesn't involve his complicated private life.

It isn't that he's lost his talent. I don't even think he's lost his way creatively (the short clips I've seen of his performance on Broadway as Hamlet show he still has great abilities). I think it has to do with the fact that the roles he's chosen have either been in bad films or he's been bad in them.

Take Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow. Fidel I hope has forgiven me for being so enthusiastic about the film...before I actually saw it with him. (Frankly, Fidel shouldn't complain: I'M the one that paid for both our tickets, so he should stop kvetching). I know what they were going for: a throwback to the 1940s-style serials, but everything about it was wrong: it was loud, it was overblown with a ridiculous plot, bad acting (sorry, Jude--even you) and the ending was so atrocious people in the audience were actually shouting their disapproval. I just sat in my seat, sinking into it, embarrassed for everyone and myself for letting myself get carried away by the trailers.

At least I learned a few things from Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow: one, temper your enthusiasm until after the film, two, it's a sign of a bad film when the best performance comes from someone who's been dead fifteen years (Laurence Olivier), three, all the CGI and blue/green screens can't make up for what you actually have in terms of cast and crew, and four, Giovanni Ribisi makes for one hell of a "plucky sidekick" (that's an inside joke between Fidel Gomez, Jr. and myself).

I think part of the problem is that filmmakers try to make Law the star of their project (Alfie, Sleuth, The Holiday) when, despite his obvious talent, he hasn't gotten to be a big-time marquee name. When he works with others, well...Let's just say that I think he's great in Sherlock Holmes, but I think the first movie is crap (as of this writing I can't bring myself to go see A Game of Shadows, but I expect I'll wander down there soon enough). I think his take on Watson is better than Nigel Bruce (who always made Watson look like a dithering idiot, which Watson was not--he just wasn't as smart as Holmes, but then only Irene Adler ever was, yet I digress). In short, I think, at least on film, Jude Law excels when he has someone to work with or against. When he's asked to carry the entire project or at least a good chunk of it, then we run into problems.

Of course, part of the blame has to lie with Law himself. Repo Men was a failure because the plot didn't work and he didn't work either. I've already gone over a bit about Sky Captain, but again, he was not good there either. Granted, an actor can be better than the material (ex. Sherlock Holmes) but Law at times has failed to deliver the goods. The best (or worst) example was the remake of All The King's Men. The movie wasn't just a colossal disaster, but Law's American accent (in particular a Southern accent) was to be kind fleeting, forced, and so, so very wrong.

In short, I think Jude Law is a great actor but not a great movie star. He was part of a great ensemble in Contagion, and I've always said he and Robert Downey, Jr. are the best parts of Sherlock Holmes films (I hope A Game of Shadows is actually worth my time). Now, at his age, he still doesn't look like he's entering middle-age, and I think he still has a great career in front of him (something I can't say for his fellow Brit Robert Pattinson or RPattz's teen wolf buddy Taylor Lautner). Once their looks fade, so will they. Law, on the other hand, has raw talent on his side.

Now at the crossroads of his career and life, my humble advise is for him to keep going on Broadway and the West End, continue working with ensembles, and every now and again venture to leading roles, preferably ones that don't require great beauty (don't go for Biblical or Roman epics--somehow the togas won't do, unless you're doing Julius Caesar). I think Jude Law is a great talent; he has so much more to give, much more than just those beautiful eyes.

With that, I wish a happy 39th birthday to Jude Law (thus making him officially as old as Jack Benny).