Weekly Review 42: ZONE, BROKEN, CAPE

March 2, 2014 by Matt Oakes Posted in Weekly Review Tagged Cape Fear, Reviews, The Broken Circle Breakdown, The Dead Zone, Weekly Review 1 Comment

This week brought a handful of screenings including the better than expected Non-Stop and Russian 3D epic Stalingrad, which likely won’t be seen by many Americans. I also caught an early press screening of The Raid 2 (holy hell is it good) but won’t be able to offer my full thoughts on that until I review for SXSW (where I might also have an opportunity to interview director Gareth Evans and star Iko Uwais so keep your eyes peeled for that). Chris saw Son of God and if you haven’t already, you’ll want to read his scathing review. Thank God, I did not attend that one. At home, I popped on a few comedies, re-watching This is the End (which didn’t hold up quite as well as I’d hope but was still enjoyable) and the always classic Borat. But rather than discuss those, let’s get into my thoughts on some first time watches.

THE DEAD ZONE (1983)

David Cronenberg tried his hand at this Steven King adaptation and proved he was no Kubrick. Paint by numbers and dull, this is more a showcase of when Christopher Walken‘s signature cadence goes wrong than anything else. Lacking in tension and anything defining of Cronenberg, this is filmed with the generic scope of a director for hire. When Emilio Estevez‘s character arrives on the scene, the affairs get a touch mire interesting but it’s too little, too late. More a chore than anything, this lame duck of a horror flick belongs back on the 80s shelf where it came from.

D

THE BROKEN CIRCLE BREAKDOWN (2013)

Powerfully acted love story gone wrong, The Broken Circle Breakdown is too glad to be the mayor of bummersville and for it is a bit of a burden to behold. Johan Heldenbergh and Veerle Baetens are both excellent in their leading roles and have to navigate some really harrowing waters. Watching them swirl around in love, conflict, grief and misunderstanding gives buckets of dramatic gravitas to the film and makes it a thematic cousin to the truly excellent Blue Valentine. But however difficult Valentine is, The Broken Circle Breakdown is twice as rough. Personally, I just can’t bear to watch a child wane at the hands of terminal cancer but that’s just me I guess. While I can’t discount the great performances, sensitive direction, and dollops of great folk music, I can only recommend this if you’re up for a certified downer.

C+

CAPE FEAR (1991)

It’s certainly not Martin Scorsese‘s best but Cape Fear is as delightfully genre as Scorsese gets. Though it doesn’t have the wild twists and turns (or the madcap performances) of Shutter Island, it’s an incredibly watchable thriller worth seeing if just to catch Robert De Niro sporting a southern accent and casting maniacal glares and to witness Nick Nolte playing a straight man. Juliette Lewis earned an Academy Award nomination for her work here and it’s a great breakout role for an actress who never disappoints.

B-

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Out in Theaters: STALINGRAD

February 27, 2014 by Matt Oakes Posted in Out in Theaters Tagged Feder Bondarchuk, Mariya Smolnikova, Out in Theaters, Pyotr Fyodorov, Reviews, Russian Film, Stalingrad, Thomas Kretschmann, Yanina Studilina

“Stalingrad”
Directed by Feder Bondarchuk
Starring Mariya Smolnikova, Yanina Studilina, Pyotr Fyodorov, Thomas Kretschmann, Sergey Bondarchuk, Dmitriy Lysenkov, Andrey Smolyakov, Aleksey Barabash, Oleg Volku
Russian, Action, War
131 Minutes
R

Stalingrad, Russia’s first foray into 3D fare, is not without its problems but nonetheless offers an entirely visceral and well-balanced, if a touch patriotic, view of the bloodiest war in human history. Rather than speak in terms of us versus them, Feder Bondarchuk‘s film looks beyond the stars and stripes (er, hammers and sickles) of nationality and into the souls of a band of warriors, harrowed and hopeful anew as they were. Our ragtag team of note is no glorified troop of super soldiers, just a collection of tramps culled from all walks of life, as flawed and yet human as the enemy Nazi.

Bondarchuk’s fair hand gives credence to both sides of the war effort, allowing us the chance to meet a Nazi antagonist, Kaptain Kan (Thomas Kretschmann), who’s not the familiar shade of Nazi (a.k.a. unscrupulous evil without bound). Kan is far more a person than he is a villain. He doesn’t have a red skull. He doesn’t love throwing out down the ol’ sieg heil. His pupils aren’t made up of little flames. It’s even hinted that he’s ashamed of his party affiliation. He’s a man at the end reaches of humanity, living out the end of days in a foreign country, waking to the cacophony of explosions and commanding a stockade of troops to take down an enemy fortification where our Russian heroes have holed up.

Offering a painterly depiction of the Russian’s landing at Stalingrad that matches, and even eclipses, the visceral horror of Steven Spielberg‘s famed Normany Beach scene, Bondarchuk’s 3D war-ravaged cinemascape presents a view of Earth splitting open and hell spilling out. The cinematography is crisp and diabolical; a bleak canvas of greys accented with the stark pops of flaming color. It’s intensely cinematic and arguably makes for some of the best war sequences this side of Saving Private Ryan.

The 3D aspect works aptly, especially for a nation’s first outing, but the more notable technical wonder comes in the whopping sound design. In the belly of the PACCAR IMAX theater, the theater roared, splitting our sense of orientation with a bombastic soundtrack of fire lapping and rifles burping. With the scope of these sequences what they are, if given a choice, preference IMAX over 3D. With most of these early proceedings cloaked in a torrent of fire (even the troops duke it out set aflame), you’ll believe the “bloodiest” bit of hyperbole that’s come to define this Russian vs. Nazi war field and seeing it unfold on the big screen is a must if you’re the least bit interested in this story.

But rather than weave the tale over the explosive turns of war or the dramatic camaraderie discovered in fox holes, the script, penned by Sergey Snezhkin and Ilya Tilkin, takes an unexpected detour to uncover a narrative where loyalty is not to country, but to new found loved ones. On both sides of the fence, they’ve hung their horses to figures of salvation, unveiled in the beauty and soulful fortitude of women, those motherly creatures left behind in the scramble of warfare.

To our Russian comrades, Katya (Mariya Smolnikova) is that maternal symbol of hope. To Kaptain Kan, it’s Masha (Yanina Studilina). Both women represent different sides of the same coin; one willing to endure at all costs, one too weak to take a stand. And though Masha’s eventual arc suggests a feverish descent into Stockholm Syndrome, both women form symbiotic relationships with their armed men. In a literal and eventually metaphorical sense, they keep each other alive; the men protect the women, the women preserve the men’s souls. These young women are the reminder of the good in the world; that which is worth saving. In this literal hellhole that rains ash like it’s Chernobyl or, dare I mention its name so soon, Pompeii, everyone needs a savior.

Since there’s no real central hero, save for maybe Pyotr Fyodorov‘s Kapitan Gromos, we get to know the Russian ensemble in fits and starts, often only slightly scratching the surface and yet getting just enough details in to care about them as characters. We know them mostly through their actions though and, as the saying goes, actions speak louder than words. But we’re never led to think of these men as infallible (except maybe Angel, he’s a pretty good dude). Rather, they’re normal men turned into machines of war. The product of man’s inclination towards warfare.

I’ll admit that it’s often more difficult to cross examine an actor’s performance in a foreign-language film and that’s somewhat the case here. Great work often transcends language but it’s hard for me to distinguish decent from dreadful. Admittedly not knowing Russian, I’d still be willing to put forth that these guys are all closer to the solid side of the fence. Still, having said that, it’s no actors showcase but neither will you be able to notice anything actively off about their thespian feats.

Having already caught a bit of early flack from critics stateside, I have a sneaking suspicion that one’s willingness to accept this will depend largely on demographics. Girls are somewhat more likely to fall for Stalingrad than your run-of-the-mill war movie since there’s such a strong female presence but I can’t help but feel that the normal military crowd that’s wont to fall for these kinds of movies will leave this one out of their rose ceremonies. (Ruskis and Nazis? and I don’t automatically hate all of them?!) Like Nazis, there’s a stigma built into our perception of Russians in cinema (particularly within this time period) so to sit on their side of the fence may prove too much a task for some. If you’re willing to turn the blinders off (or at least down) though, Stalingrad is an undeniably rock solid war film that aptly balances action set pieces with lofty drama.

B-

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Out in Theaters: NON-STOP

February 27, 2014 by Matt Oakes Posted in Out in Theaters Tagged Corey Stoll, Jaume Collet-Serra, Julianne Moore, Liam Neeson, Lupita Nyong'o, Michelle Dockery, Nate Parker, Non-Stop, Out in Theaters, Reviews, Scoot McNairy

“Non-Stop”
Directed by Jaume Collet-Serra
Starring Liam Neeson, Julianne Moore, Scoot McNairy, Michelle Dockery, Nate Parker, Corey Stoll, Lupita Nyong’o, Omar Metwally
Action, Mystery, Thriller
106 Mins
PG-13

Perfectly adequate entertainment, slyly primed to keep you guessing and anchored with deliciously smarmy stars, Non-Stop is exactly the kind of in-flight, mile-high thriller you’d expect attached to the name Liam Neeson. From Neeson and Julianne Moore to Corey Stoll and Scott McNairy, there’s a bevy of great performers lining the rows from business class to coach, each given their fair share of silliness to weave into stakes-laden seriousness. While the script may leak the occasional nonsense into the proceedings of this 3,300 mile Transatlantic trip, thankfully none of the performers are caught with their pants down. If the goal is to keep the ball up in the air as long as possible, they’ve done their jobs right, helping make Non-Stop a perfectly suitable one-and-done thrill ride sure to please the masses.

Non-Stop Neeson might as well be Brian Mills at some different stage in his life – a bizzaro version whose daughter never made it to France (…or out of grade school). Instead of honing his particular set of skills, he stooped into a depressive alcoholic state. Still preserved is his towering frame and inimitable Irish-American cadence, making him the kind of pensive brute that you’ll believe can snap a neck with his bare hands, the brand of machismo that you can easily muster up a scenario in which you’d submit to him like a field mouse to its prey. If Neeson’s new found persona as an action hero relies on him domineering opponents in a mental wrestling match, he’s the E. Honda of intimidation. With this half-drunk, gunslinger of the sky growling at you in meaty garbles, you’d find yourself cowering in the fuselage corner too.

To call it “Taken on a Plane” would be an oversimplification but it’s a easy distinction to make for people with about a half-second attention span; a quick soundbite to consume for the inattentive rabble, so let’s run with it. But while Taken steered Neeson’s career in wildly unexpected places, having him dash around France at neck break speeds to, uh, break necks, Non-Stop is a good step outside the same categorical genre. Where Taken is an all-out actioner, this is much more of a suspense-thriller; reserved, predatory and only sparsely violent. As Non-Stop rarely relies on action beats, it’s ability to skirt around said beats makes it all the more intriguing to our somewhat quelled intellect and, more importantly, the film’s internal sense of suspense.

Confronted with the threat that an anonymous hijacker will kill someone on the plane every twenty minutes until $150 million is deposited in an account, Neeson’s Bill Marks stirs with questions of “How do you kill someone on a crowded plane and get away with it?” Indeed. Cleverly enough, writers John W. Richardson, Christopher Roach and Ryan Engle manage to dovetail the promise of in-flight demise with the need to keep the antagonist anonymous. As we get to know the crowded plane load of colorful potential suspects, our suspicions waver like a compass on a magnet, never quite showing us true north and sporadically pointing in new directions. At times, we’re worried that the threat may not even be on the actual plane but thankfully we’re never confronted with this “waking from a dream” cop out of a twist. No, everything is rather succinctly handled in the as-promised confines of the airplane, allowing this Chekov’s gun to be as tightly loaded as possible and ready to spring at any moment.

When (s)he inevitably comes out of the closet, the perfunctory villain’s explanation is undeniably underwhelming, but it’s nice to see something other than the one-trick pony that’s become the man “who wants to watch the world burn” or, even more boring, those who “are just in it for the money.” Even though the worldview-cocking, diatribe-spewing conclusion feels half-baked, at least our villain musters up an excuse for their passenger-offing dickishness. As convoluted and circumstantial as their plan may be, at least there is a plan and a semblance of an ideology.

Demanding a mention is the addition of soon to be Oscar-winner Lupita Nyong’o who is also onboard for no particular reason other than to rock a relic of the past by way of hairdo, a glib style only suitable for runway models or Bond girl May Day. For someone primed to add a trophy to her shelf by the end of the weekend, she’s barely juiced for more than a line, a reality that I lament for little more than the fact that I wanted to see her flex her acting chops outside the realm of slavery.

While most of the film’s logic can be punted through with the mention of a black box, it’s not one of those omnipresent nags that won’t allow you to enjoy watching the events unfold as they do. The circumstantial implications throughout are hazy though, delving into the increasingly present question of whether security is worth the cost of sacrificing one’s personal liberties. 9/11 anxiety or no, I think we can all safely agree that we don’t want random security checks in the midst of our commutes, be they on board an airplane or otherwise. Pushing those bits of moralistic ponderances aside, Neeson again shows a knack for straight-faced comedy and his couple of off-the-cuff jokes roped the audience into easy stitches. Undeniably ripe for a sequel (or even franchise), Non-Stop is exactly what it ought to be: fun, fizzy and forgettable.

C

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Weekly Review 41: NEVER, SOLARIS, BACKBONE, HUDSUCKER, MONSTERS, SUICIDE, KILLS, BEAUTY

February 23, 2014 by Matt Oakes Posted in Weekly Review Tagged Machete Kills, Monsters, Never Let Me Go, Reviews, Solaris, The Devil's Backbone, The Great Beauty, The Hudsucker Proxy, The Monuments Men, Weekly Review

I’m almost ashamed to admit how much media I’ve consumed in the past week. In addition to keeping up with recent episodes of True Detective (so good) and The Walking Dead, I polished off the most recent season of House of Cards…and that’s before any of the following movies. I only made one trip to the theater though for a screening of Pompeii on Tuesday and then again to the local second-run theater to catch a showing of The Great Beauty before it fights its way to the top of the foreign language films for next week’s Academy Awards.

NEVER LET ME GO (2010)

Well-acted drama with a sci-fi bent, Never Let Me Go deals with the impossibility of knowing your own fate. Keira Knightley, Carey Mulligan and Andrew Garfield each play clones raised to adulthood and then harvested for their organs, always aware that their end will come sooner rather than later and yet ever searching for a means to extent their short stint on earth. It’s occasionally powerful and offers all three of the actors a chance to stand in the spotlight but its shade is too relentlessly black and the absence of hope too primed to get its audience down.

C

SOLARIS (2002)

Dark and contemplative to a fault, this Steven Soderberg film deals in themes of humanity and society, guilt and hopelessness. George Clooney plays a troubled psychologist sent to a space station orbiting the eponymous, mysterious planet with strange powers, Solaris. In the furtherest reaches of human ambition, Solaris is manifest destiny to the Nth degree, it’s the extension of what we can achieve and at what cost. Sound vague? So is the film. As Clooney’s isolation is mimicked with the backdrop of the desolation of space, he encounters someone from his past that throws everything that he believes into the garbage disposal and turns it on high. It’s an eerie and unsettling film but never shakes the feeling that Soderberg is holding his hand back a little too far. We’re left too emotionally distant to feel the metaphysical welts he’s trying to deliver but good on Clooney for putting so much effort in.

C+

THE DEVIL’S BACKBONE (2001)

Guillermo del Toro made his name with horror dramas of this ilk and for good reason. The Devil’s Backbone is the perfect precursor for Toro’s later masterpiece Pan’s Labyrinth as both deal out horror in the confines of historically accurate, war torn landscapes. This time around, Toro sets his sights on the Spanish Civil War as he tracks Carlos, a 12-year old recent orphan, who encounters a child ghost. Toro is at his most atmospheric here, offering creepiness and tenderness in equal measure that all adds up to a rather intriguing feature.

B

THE HUDSUCKER PROXY (1994)

A slapstick farce of the absurdist bent, the Coen Bros channel Frank Kapra, reminding us of what makes satire satire and why Adam Sandler as Mr. Deeds is a completely futile effort. Biting lampoon of Corporate America at its most corruptible, the Coen Bros are on point moreso than not and deliver sidesplitting gawuffs in healthy dollops. The first twenty minutes or so are solid gold and it kind of peters out towards the middle but the kooky performance from Tim Robbins keeps it hustling along and keeps the laughs coming.

B

MONSTERS (2010)

A road trip adventure masquerading as a monster movie, Monsters is a razor sharp satire on border policy. Gareth Evans, the man responsible for the upcoming Godzilla film, directs with searing panache, putting the human drama at the forefront and letting the presence of “monsters” help to bring more gravitas to their spiritual venture rather than drive the action. It’s the kind of genre-defying film you don’t see coming and it’s well worth checking out if not just to acquaint yourself with Evans’ talent.

B+

MACHETE KILLS (2013)

On the wrong side of the satire fence, this grindhouse-born sardonic action flick is too heavy on exploitation and too light on payoff. Demian Bichir though almost singlehandedly makes it a must-see as his manic villain is a big standout in an otherwise star studded but phoning it in and hamming it up cast. While Robert Rodriquez‘s latest really tries to drive home the necessity of a sequel in which Machete kills again…in space, after this absolutely tanked at the box office (it made a hair over ten million on a twenty million dollar production budget) there’s a snowball’s chance in hell that Danny Trejo will ever wield a machete in full feature form again. Then again, that’s probably for the best.

C-

THE GREAT BEAUTY (2013)

Absolutely gorgeous cinematography frames what is sure to be this year’s Best Foreign Language Film Oscar winner. Lead Toni Servillo is fantastic as fading writer but mostly uppity socialite Jep and he’s the perfect guide to stroll around the offerings of Rome with. Surreal and ponderous, Paolo Sorrentino‘s film is the kind that makes us see the trees for the forest, that begs us to realize that life is happening all around us, not something waiting to happen. Best of all, he doesn’t spoon feed any conclusions to his audience but allows them the breathing room to weave their own message from. There’s a little flack in the last act but it doesn’t take away from the monumental impact of this absolute wonder.

A-

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Out in Theaters: POMPEII

February 21, 2014 by Matt Oakes Posted in Out in Theaters Tagged Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje, Carrie-Anne Moss, Emily Browning, Jared Harris, Jessica Jones, Kiefer Sutherland, Kit Harrington, Out in Theaters, Paul WS Anderson, Pompeii, Reviews 1 Comment

“Pompeii”
Directed by Paul WS Anderson
Starring Kit Harrington, Emily Browning, Kiefer Sutherland, Jared Harris, Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje, Jessica Lucas, Carrie-Anne Moss
Action, Adventure, “Drama”
98 Mins
PG-13

If you’re willing to overlook an awful script, torpid acting and cheeseball direction, Pompeii packs the requisite fireworks and dimwitted gumption to glide through its 100 minute screen time. Told with the panache of an envious porno production assistant, Pompeii is the equivalent of a kid hopped up on candy trying to recount the events of Gladiator but getting a handful of plot points confused with Armageddon. It’s a disaster of wonderful proportion and, quite simply, a blunderous marvel to behold.

Director Paul WS Anderson‘s chutzpah is a blunted sword that he wields like it’s Excalibur, hacking through logic like Theon Greyjoy taking off Sir Rodrick’s head. (If that one went over your head, let’s just say it’s a mess.) There’s nothing necessarily redeeming about the self-serious way the material is approached except the beautiful irony of it all. It’s the perfect storm of narrative retardation unaware of the extent of its disability. At least the poor thing isn’t sentient enough to know it’s severe limitations. Rather than bring it out to pasture though, we’re stuck playing the schoolyard bullies who circle and laugh. At least pointing and mocking here is acceptable.

No one deserves our disapproving derision more than swooning stars Emily Browning and Kit Harrington who make use of their screen time ogling one another; eye fucking like its Jr. Prom all over again. Doe-eyed and bitterly boring, each takes their acting lessons from the book of Stares and Glares 101. Their chemistry is always overshadowed by the mountain in the distance, a spark to the raging conflagrations surrounding them. Their romance, a dog shit hue of puppy love.

Certifiable shame that it is, Harrington can’t survive outside the confines of Game of Thrones, a magical realm where he’s nothing short of awkwardly charming. Armed with a sword and shambling in sandals, Harrington’s Milo is the gladiator’s version of rebel without a cause. “Are you not entertained?” his character plagiarizes, but with the snarky attitude of a hipster teen. No John Snow, we’re not. Stick to your side of the Fire and Ice equation. No matter what ridiculous number of abdomen muscles you’ve packed on, things just work out better when you’re buried in furs and adventuring in a perma-snowstorm.

Browning on the other hand is all kinds of bad news bears. She’s supposed to be brave and rebellious as Cassia but comes off as a little girl playing princess. She’s a vacuum of talent, a worm hole of thespianism, a black thumb for film. Does everything she touches wilt into a bouquet of poison oak or does she just have an agent with a grudge against her? Seriously, the girl hasn’t touched a good project with a ten foot pole and Pompeii is no exception. Seeing her on the receiving end of a half-dozen bitch slaps is as magical as things get.

Dishing out those slaps is Kiefer Sutherland‘s General Corvus, a poorly acted douche of a man who we meet at the top of the story slicin’ and dicin’ through Milo mum’s windpipe who later, quite conveniently, stews a bit of a rapey crush on Cassia. Apparently suffering from a knack of amnesia, Anderson forget to include the bit where Corvus stumbles across the fountain of youth. How else can you explain the fact that Corvus hasn’t aged a day in 17 years? There’s no way the people making this behemoth could have just forgotten a detail like that. RIGHT?!!

Then again, the script does seem like the result of a late night session the writers spent with a bong, a bag of Doritos and a Gladiator DVD. Seriously, there are lengthy scenes airlifted directly from Gladiator. It’s one thing to homage and another entirely to play something off as your own work. Let me give you a particularly face-palming example: During a prominent gladiator showcase, the slavemaster attempts to recreate a Roman massacre from recent past where a slew of barbarians were slaughtered like caged chickens. Milo and friends are primed for the pointy end of a skewering stick, but wait! the enslaved gladiators band together to overcome momentous odds, defying the will of their superiors and winning the goodwill of the people. Sound familiar? I guess at the very least, they’re ripping off some solid stuff.

The only other character of note, Atticus, is also the one we’re left pining for more time with. As a African gladiator brute, Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje is immensely watchable and the easy star of the show. His is the only character we don’t want swallowed up by a wall of lava, the only one we’re hoping won’t be sworded to death. Spoiler: both happen.

Throughout the affairs, Mr. Anderson doesn’t ever let us forget that there’s a volcano involved and with CG technology what it is now, Mt. Vesuvius is clearly a main character (or at least the one we’re supposed to pay the most attention to). It must feel robbed then that it didn’t even get an IMDB billing. If CG characters were eligible for a share of their awards gold, old ‘Suv’ would be a clear early frontrunner.

Watching the computer generated Mt. Vesuvius blow is destruction porn at its most bukakesque. Gobs of moltenus rock spew from the hot top like a 12-year old Paul WS Anderson discovering his manhood. If this is his take on a pissing contest, he proudly strikes a pose and demeans your fifth grade science experience. Baking soda and vinegar ought to be ashamed.

Writer team Janet Scott Batchler (Batman Forever), Lee Batchler (Batman Forever) and Michael Robert Scott (Sherlock Holmes) are the lack of brains behind Anderson’s unwieldy brawn, the Tonto to his rebooted Lone Ranger, the brain dead Himmler to his logic-genociding Hitler. Theirs is the glory of this spirited romp through seven levels of screenwriting purgatory. “King logos is dead, long live computer graphics!” they collectively chant. Together, they have ushered in a nuclear meltdown of a story, ineffaceably half-witted and boldly dopey.

A hotpot of narrative no-no’s hyped up on its own garishness and blinded by the Hot Pocket consumerism driving the thing, Pompeii is a disaster of a disaster movie in the best of ways. The cart is miles before the horse as this movie is no more than an excuse to see a volcano go boom-boom. Like a toddler experimenting with an Easy Bake Oven, Pompeii is majorly overcooked, a hot mess of epic proportion. But Anderson’s is the rare and wonderful movie that transcends the expression “it’s so bad, it’s good”. It’s literally a masterclass on the topic. One could write a thesis on how Pompeii proves Paul WS Anderson is the new Ed Wood and likely walk away with a honors degree. Simply put, I loved and hated it in equal measure. It was so dumb that I applauded.

C-

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Out in Theaters: 3 DAYS TO KILL

February 21, 2014 by Matt Oakes Posted in Out in Theaters Tagged 3 Days to Kill, Amber Heard, Connie Nielsen, Kevin Costner, McG, Out in Theaters, Reviews, Richard Sammel

“3 Days to Kill”
Directed by McG
Starring Kevin Costner, Amber Heard, Richard Sammel, Tómas Lemarquis, Connie Nielsen
Action Crime, Drama
113 Mins
PG-13

When 3 Days to Kill first rolled, I was convinced I’d mistakenly wandered into another Taken sequel. The premise is pretty much exactly the same save the kidnappings; instead, “dangerous” international spy Ethan Renner (Kevin Costner) only has three months to live. Just like in Taken, the protagonist has been separated from his wife and now wants to reconnect with his teenage daughter (Hailee Steinfeld, True Grit) whom he doesn’t spend much time with. 3 Days to Kill is even conveniently set in Paris, and director McG (Charlie’s Angels, We Are Marhsall) makes no attempt to conceal that fact. And, of course, just like Neeson’s bad-ass Bryan Mills, Costner’s Ethan tortures and/or kills everyone. The comparisons never stop.

Beyond that, exposition in this film is so hurried and obscure that any sort of motive or coherent plot is hard to follow. Along with Vivi, — a “sexy” CIA agent portrayed by Amber Heard — Ethan is assigned to hunt and kill two guys codenamed “The Wolf” (Richard Sammel) and “The Albino” (Tómas Lemarquis). In exchange, the CIA gives him an “experimental drug” to cure his brain cancer, which comes in an overly ominous 20ml syringe and has some nasty side-effects. Ethan is left to juggle his job (and life) while trying to keep a hold on his family.

A steam-rolling, no-frills killer, Ethan dresses like an off-duty World War I fighter pilot: he’s outfitted with a grey wool scarf, faded blue jeans and a brown bomber jacket. He’s everything a spy shouldn’t be: grizzled, garish, gasping and God-awful looking in a suit. Sweaty and paunch-bellied, Costner always looks like he needs a nap. He’s James Yawn, the Worn Identity.

Costner’s set of skills isn’t as particular as Neeson’s were, either. In fact, he doesn’t seem to be good at much other than murdering Frenchmen and blowing shit up in plain sight without anyone noticing. To top that off, his reaction to the experimental drug’s side-effects always kicks in right when he’s about to cap the baddies, leaving him woozy and wheezing before blacking out on the floor. As such, Ethan finishes missions like a nice guy with a vasectomy.

His inability to get the job done doesn’t really matter though; it’s never quite clear what exactly his mission is even supposed to be except a way to conveniently draw the plot out long enough for Ethan to teach his daughter how to ride a bike and dance the waltz.

Why the bad guys even need to be killed in the first place is so poorly established that it’s preposterous. The Albino is presumed to be debauched due to his austere fetish for murder by eccentric decapitation — at one point he takes a female agent’s head off via descending elevator shaft — though why that makes him an enemy of the state is beyond me. Maybe his hairlessness presents an unknown challenge to the American livelihood.

As for The Wolf… Well, I have no clue what Sammel’s role even was. He only appears for the film’s first and last five to ten minutes, and by the end his character or importance is completely forgotten. The Wolf’s only crime in the entire film was ruining a nice dinner party. It’s never made clear why the CIA wants him dead. That’s never a good thing for a supposed main villain.

Most spy films these days are predictable and formulaic, and 3 Days to Kill was no exception. Apart from some original moments, the plot was stagnant, unoriginal and pretty much the concept Taken would have been if Neeson’s family had remained intact instead. At 100 minutes, McG seemed to feel like he had three days to fill. It certainly felt longer than that.

All that said, everything besides the makeshift plot and confusing narrative was actually really well executed. In addition to the beautiful mise-en-scène — McG took every opportunity to show off the Eiffel Tower — this film was surprisingly French, which is probably the reason why it wasn’t all terrible.

With almost an entirely French cast and crew, including writers Luc Besson and Adi Hasak, cinematographer Thierry Arbogast, and a score by Guillaume Roussel, 3 Days to Kill had all the familiar elements found in famous French spy series such as Le Gendarme and OSS 117 (which starred Jean Dujardin before he was a Swedish bank mogul laundering Jordan Belfort’s money or a silent film superstar). For an action film, it’s got enough not to bore. Costner kills like the plague: his body-count hits the half-century mark about 20 minutes in and rises exponentially from there.

The comedy is decidedly Français: clumsy, maladroit, and filled with foolish situational and corporeal humor. McG probably banked a little too much on over-the-top sound effects and old-man-on-a-girl’s-bike humor, but there were plenty of funny moments. Costner is more of a comical figure than he ever is badass, so he milks it.

3 Days to Fill is well-acted and McG made certain to have a resolution for every character involved. No stone was left unturned, and the film wraps up the mangled plot as cleanly as possible. Costner as a poor man’s Liam Neeson works fairly well, and the father-daughter relationship between him and Steinfeld is heart-warming at times. The Wolf and The Albino are terrible villains, but they’re at least entertaining. There’s talent in nuggets here; McG does a good job of mining it.

When it comes down to it, 3 Days to Kill exceeds expectations like a 4th grader jumping hurdles at the district track meet. Costner has come a long way since his Ta Tanka and Two Socks chasing days with the Dakota Souix, but this Dance With Wolf just didn’t make me howl.

C-

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Out in Theaters: THE WIND RISES

February 19, 2014 by Matt Oakes Posted in Out in Theaters Tagged Animation, Biography, Hayao Miyazaki, Japanese, Out in Theaters, Reviews, The Wind Rises

“The Wind Rises”
Directed by Hayao Miyazaki
Starring Hideaki Anno, Miori Takimoto, Hidetoshi Nishijima, Masahiko Nishimura, Steve Alpert, Morio Kazama, Keiko Takeshita, Mirai Shida, Jun Kunimura, Shinobu Otake, Nomura Mansai
Animation, Biography, Drama
126 Mins
PG-13

(Note: I saw the original version in Japanese with English subtitles, not the redub featuring Joseph Gordon-Levitt)

Traumatic and introspective, The Wind Rises is Hayao Miyazaki‘s magical realist account of pre-WWII Japan as it navigates a seismic earthquake, battles the emergence of lurking fascism and sees its populace wither at the hands of TB. To say it’s not an experience for kids is an understatement, so don’t let the pretty pictures fool you. And yet, preserved is the crisp and distinct Miyazaki visualscapes and a ubiquitous, if stayed, element of whimsy. “In good times and bad, life is magical,” Miyazaki seems to say with a hopeful sigh.

The Japanese visionary has talked at length about how this will be his final feature and accordingly it only seems fitting that The Wind Rises feels like a man penning his own epilogue; a storyteller past myth and allegory, finally willing to stare long and hard at the epoch of his lifetime and reflect, no matter how painful that process.

The hero at the center of this tale, Jiro, seems telegraphed in from a poem. And yet his story is true (somewhat), making Miyazaki’s film a fantastical biopic of the oddest sort. How much Miyazaki saw of himself in the plight of the aviation expert can be assumed but why he has chosen him to be the representative of Japan’s 1920 era is a thing of mystery. But let’s save that debate for later.

Jiro Horikoshi is an aviation aficionado. We meet the glasses-touting to-be pioneer at a tender young age and watch him blossom into adulthood and his fledgling career as an aviation engineer. Ever since he was a boy, Jiro has experienced lucid dreams, his nights filled with times spent alongside Italian aeronautical engineer Giovanni Caproni, a figure of encouragement prone to designing ambitious triple layered bi-planes the stuff of fantasy. But even in these dream sequences, reality is grounded. There’s no fluffy creatures or wretched monsters, just the harsh reality of unbridled ambition and unrivaled aspiration. Nevertheless, Miyazaki’s 73-year old hand still paints as beautifully and classically as ever.

Although the animation here is far more realist than much of his former work, Miyazaki still dips in bright colors, painting backdrops so gorgeous you’d expect to find them in a Tokyo art exhibit. And just as his craftsmanship is rich with texture and life, his story is creeping with subtext. To make such a thematic shift this late in his career, away from quirk and metaphorical creatures and into a murky incitement of a culture’s past, surely gives us a glimpse into the mind of a haunted genius.

As the film presses questions of drive and autonomy and the turbulent mix of the two, our minds drift to the writer’s room. Is there intentional poetic justice in Miyazaki decrying the astringent nag that one’s work is never finished just as he’s retiring? Is this film a confession of regret? Of guilt? What has he sacrificed to get where he is today? Or is this merely a reticent sign off to a long and illustrious career? So many questions, so few answers!

And here lies the problem. For all the wonderful questions Mizayaki’s choice to make this his sendoff feature raises, the film itself deals in a tonally inconsistent and wandering narrative rife with teetering pathos that’s almost strangely personal. More tragedy than anything, The Wind Rises earns every bit of its PG-13 rating without ever uttering a swear or witnessing a swing of violence. No, the troubling but true subject matter is bleak and ultimately heartbreaking enough to make anyone old enough blink out a tear or two. Kids though will have all but the pretty pictures soar over their heads like one of Jiro’s aircrafts. That said, it is a visual wonder to behold. Just be prepared to explain to your four year old what tuberculosis is.

Is The Wind Rises Mizayaki’s masterpiece? Certainly not. But it’s an intriguing work nonetheless. It lacks the jubilant capriciousness of Mizayski’s prior filmography, a thing ineffably harder and more coarse than one would imagine from anything animated. In spite of its relative inaccessibility, it is a thing of mighty beauty, even if it is a bit of a melancholy note for Mizayaki to leave on. Like a man looking back at the perfect futility of human life, The Wind Rises is a bittersweet symphony of what it means to love and lose.

B

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Out in Theaters: ROBOCOP

February 11, 2014 by Matt Oakes Posted in Out in Theaters Tagged Abbie Cornish, Gary Oldman, Joel Kinnaman, Jose Padilha, Michael Keaton, Out in Theaters, Reviews, Robocop, Samuel L. Jackson, Sci-Fi 1 Comment

“Robocop”
Directed by José Padilha
Starring Joel Kinnaman, Gary Oldman, Michael Keaton, Abbie Cornish, Jackie Earle Haley, Michael K. Williams, Samuel L. Jackson, Jay Baruchel, Zach Grenier
Action, Crime, Sci-Fi
108 Mins
PG-13

RoboCop tries to make communion between global politicking black satire and “ohhhh shiny” skirmishes but winds up not quite able to answer the many questions it raises. Regardless, the fact that this supposed actioner wants to stick its nose into moral territory and sniff around makes for a far more interesting experience than any paint-by-numbers shoot-em-up that I was expecting.

In the oeuvre of action movies, the RoboCop of yore was known for its balls-to-the-walls, blood ‘n’ guts characteristics so you’ll be surprised to hear that this 2014 remake is so light on action sequences that it makes The Lion King look violent (but let’s be honest, The Lion King is pretty violent). There are maybe two instances of what one would consider violence, both blaring shootouts sans a spot of blood, and an exposition-driven explosion of note. Other than that, most of the distressing PG-13 rated stuff takes place in a Clorox-blasted laboratory.

Beckon forth the stuff of Ethics 101. Global tech-giant OmniCorp is hellbent on getting their militant robots into the domestic market but have been blocked on all sides by liberal Senator Hubert Dreyfuss (Zach Grenier) and his long-standing bill that outlaws the use of mechs in the land of the stars and stripes. They would feel nothing if they shot a child, Dreyfuss argues. How can we give unadulterated command to something that wouldn’t even feel an ounce of remorse if they blasted a baby in the face? It’s a half decent point you’re onto there Dreyfuss but one that is shied further and further away from as the revenge narrative is ratcheted up.

With the help of marketing fisher Tom Pope (a bearded but still baby-faced Jay Baruchel), Raymond Sellars (Michael Keaton) employs Dr. Dennett Norton (Gary Oldman) to help push Dreyfuss’s bill into fisticuffs with the introduction of a half-man, half-machine hybrid. Business barons as they are, they’ve found the wishy-washy nooks of the law and let exploitation take birth. But after breezing through a list of candidates, Norton doesn’t believe they have anyone fulfilling the mental balance needed for the job. I wonder who it could be? Let fly, the red herring in all its foreshadowing glory.

Enter incorruptible cop Alex Murphy (Joel Kinnaman) who has just caught the scent of a near untraceable top-tier gunrunner, Anton Vallon (Patrick Garrow). Following up on a lead, Murphy and partner Jack Lewis (Michael K. Williams) land themselves in the cacophonous din of a gunfight (and either it was the IMAX screening I attended or the gunfire sound editing has been cranked up to 11 but the blasts were near deafening). With Lewis left hospitalized with a handful of slugs lodged in him, good cop Murphy is all revved up for revenge. But, unbeknownst to him, he’s earned a hefty target on his backs from the watchful eye of the criminal underworld and before he can say “boo”, he’s blown into a limbless coma, becoming a prime candidate for what becomes the RoboCop experiment.

For all the character names scattered through the movie (and this review), screenwriter Joshua Zetumer deserves a hand for actually carving out a foothold for nearly all of them. Abbie Cornish as Murphy/Robocop’s wife is a little uncut but Keaton, Oldman, Williams and the rest of the supporting cast really get some actual characters to dig into. Even the villains of the piece are much more modern baddies, blinded by financial gain but not bogged down with diabolical cackles or announced plans of world domination. They hardly acknowledgement their own villainy, they’re just in it to win it. Unfortunately for them, so is RoboCop.

Each character is firmly engrained in the story and hard to leave out when talking about the piece. It’s a surprisingly ensemble piece for an action film and one that relies just as much on the characterization of the Dr. Frankenstein who created him as it does on the eponymous RoboCop. In such, everyone has their place. Making a world that’s so fleshed out and yet intimate is one of Zetumer’s many skills. Loose ends, on the other hand, are not.

In an age of drone warfare, secretive criminal tribunals and the National Defense Authorization Act (which affords Obama authority to kill a US citizen without due process), Robocop does seem ripe for the reboot. It’s a shame then that we don’t really see him (and by extension filmmaker José Padilha) grapple with the difficulties of dealing with morally gray areas. Rather, we’re given an ethical guide we’re meant to mock in Samuel L. Jackson‘s Pat Novak and a dubious puff of disapprobation in Padilha’s incisive glare.

As far as Robocop the machine-man, more than anything, his existence becomes a pitiable state of affairs; one stripped of choice, mellowed of free will and fine-tuned to acts of force appropriation. Seeing what’s left of the actual Alex Murphy is macabre and visceral (and may turn your popcorn bucket into a barf bag) but watching him drained of his remaining humanity is arguably more lurid.

Gone are the lampooning moments of levity that flowed from the originals, replaced with the likes of Batman-mimicking “Does it come in black?” For those seeking action-packed escapism, look elsewhere as RoboCop is more Frankenstein than Die Hard. Soaked and dripping with questions of determinism, spirituality, executive power, agency and identity that each find a pitfall or reaches the end of a rope, Robocop is a mash of hi-fi philosophy conveniently light on resolution.

C

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Weekly Review 40: SCANNER, TOUCHY, TROLL, POINT, ASSASSINATION

February 9, 2014 by Matt Oakes Posted in Out in Theaters Tagged A Scanner Darkly, Point Break, Reviews, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, Touchy Feely, Troll Hunter, Weekly Review

I’m trying to keep up the weekly part of this Weekly Review segment and since this week bought profoundly cold weather to the area, I found myself watching quite a few flicks at home. I decided to catch up on some of Richard Linklater‘s earlier stuff and having just read the Phillip K Dick story this summer, I popped on A Scanner Darkly and Waking Life but couldn’t finish the later in one sitting. Aside from that, I caught up on a handful of things, two of which starred Keanu Reeves, that I’d heard buzz about for some time but had never taken the time to see. Some were great, some not so much.

A SCANNER DARKLY (2006)

An entirely faithful and ambitious adaptation of one of Phillip K Dicks stranger and yet more emotional works. Robert Downey Jr is perfect as Barris, Woody Harrelson makes a great Luckman, Winona Ryder ideally fits the enigma of Donna and even Keanu Reeves is a component choice for our crumbling hero, Bob Arctor. Experimental to a fault, this Richard Linklater film is a piece of art to behold, with each hand drawn frame as texturally inspired and aesthetically vibrant as the last. Without dumbing down the material, it’s no surprise A Scanner Darkly didn’t find much of an audience in its theatrical run or otherwise but any fan of Dick’s memorable brand of sci-fi pulp is sure to love this.

A-

TOUCHY FEELY (2013)

Seattle native Lynn Shelton‘s dramedy tracks a pair of siblings as they change places in their respective worlds like its Freaky Friday. One’s a massage therapist, the other a dentist and in some strange, unmentioned twist of the cosmos, one loses their spirituality while the other gains it anew. Things turn weepy in a pitiless way and Rosemarie DeWitt’s character is a noxious tonic who’s hard to relate to and annoying to watch. None of this new age spirituality really comes together and the bumbling awkwardness that is the emotional framework never does enough to draw in the audience. It’s a fine work in the context of light independent cinema but hardly one worthy of note.

C-

TROLL HUNTER (2010)

Acid dry Norwegian wit, wry social commentary and shockingly impressive visual effects for a paltry budget, Troll Hunter is that rare mockumentary with purpose. As a trio of hunters follow a veteran troll hunter, they learn that trolls are indeed real, a fact actively covered up by the Norwegian government. The best thing about the film is how well conceived everything is and how painstaking thought through each detail is. Between the inventive machinery, gadgets and gizmos and the clever twists of biology that, on the surface, satisfy the existence of such malevolent fairy tale beasts, director Andre Ovredal weaves a compelling narrative that is far better than the silly name might suggest.

B+

POINT BREAK (1991)

Exciting and trend-setting action story partially ruined by Keanu Reeves‘ offensively bad acting, Point Break is popcorn-crunching 90’s nonsense. It’s miles from self-serious but Reeves can barely deliver a line without it feeling like he’s reading lines from his wrist, barely comprehending what’s passing through his lips. Co-star Patrick Swayze is in top form though and his shaggy beach thief has enough layers to keep us intrigued. An interesting start for Kathryn Bigelow who has since gone on to direct some very noteworthy pictures including Academy Award winner The Hurt Locker and 2012’s acclaimed Zero Dark Thirty.

C+

THE ASSASSINATION OF JESSE JAMES BY THE COWARD ROBERT FORD

Lengthy and dense enough to warrant a viewing in two sitting, TAOJJBTCRF is an impeccably photographed, wonderfully acted Western character study. Brad Pitt plays iconic train robber Jesse James with his many folds of complexity and his deeply introspective persona that makes him such a mystery of a character. Not so much a tracking of what made James the criminal celebrity he was as it is about what becomes of his attempts to retire, Andrew Dominick‘s long-winded film gets it right with many aspects. One of which is Casey Affleck‘s Robert Ford. I’ll admit that in the past, I’ve been judgmental of the younger Affleck, calling his performance in last year’s Out of the Furnace the first time that I’ve ever seen him as a seriously talented actor. Here though, there’s no arguing that Affleck is phenomenal. Couple that fact with the picturesque cinematography and absolutely stunning use of light and you have many reasons to watch TAOJJBTCRF, even if the task can be a touch laborious.

B

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Out in Theaters: THE PAST

February 6, 2014 by Matt Oakes Posted in Out in Theaters Tagged Ali Mosaffa, Asghar Farhadi, Bérénice Bejo, Elyes Aguis, Foreign Film, Out in Theaters, Pauline Burlet, Reviews, Sabrina Ouazani, Tahar Rahim, The Past

“The Past”
Directed by Asghar Farhadi
Starring Bérénice Bejo, Tahar Rahim, Ali Mosaffa, Pauline Burlet, Elyes Aguis, Sabrina Ouazani
Foreign, Drama, Mystery
130 Mins
PG-13

The Past is an extraordinarily difficult film loaded with powerhouse performances of perpetually grieving characters and a blanket of dreary subject matter. While it’s nice to get a break from the mindless drudge of early year releases, The Past goes too far in the opposite direction, offering a piece of work so harrowing and relentlessly gloomy that it’s near impossible to find any joy in watching it.

Bérénice Bejo (The Artist) plays Marie Brisson, a forlorn woman who we meet through a pane glass window as she picks up Ali Mosaffa‘s Ahmad from the airport. At first their relationship is ambitious and we’re left guessing their status. Director Asghar Farhadi (A Separation) seems to want to keep us in the dark for as long as possible as we’re not able to gather much about these two and the relationship they share. They could be friends, lovers, roommates or even family. As we try to piece together the details, the only thing that’s clear is that they have history. They have (sigh) a past.

As recklessly dour as A Separation, The Past quickly explodes into a series of accusations, abjection, and atonement; a collection of difficult scenes that provides the cast a series of lofty showcases but does little to stimulate our need for dramatic solace. We’re constantly grieving alongside the characters, breathing in their misery and sighing at the folly of their crumbling affairs.

Bejo, Rahim and Tahar Rahim (A Prophet) are each afforded a bevy of opportunities to exhibit their dramatic capacity and with so much attention paid to the characters, it’s their exceeding commitment to the work that makes The Past compelling when it is. Each brings a sense of life to their character; shades of good and bad, airs of hope and despair. Their roles are fully human, peppered with fault and wound up by life, and that’s what keep the film afloat, demanding our interest and earning our empathy. Regardless of their mighty work though, the film is still 100% glum.

Ostensibly, the narrative comes down to our human capacity for guilt and blame and how the two can affect our lives in irrevocable ways. It’s about discarded relationships, rekindled flames and the connections we forge on our way to the grave. But all this harrowing philosophizing just goes to show how it’s no fun to watch people argue about who’s to blame for someone’s suicide attempt.

The character dynamics carry weighty gravitas and their tempered interactions hue closely to the real world but, for me, movies are at least partially about escapism and there’s no semblance of escape here. Watching The Past is like watching life through the window of a death ward. It’s dark and unforgiving and can take anything from you at any moment. Seeing the crusted loose ends of existence, confronting regrets and admitting the purposelessness of it all is an exercise we have to confront in the privacy of our own minds so watching Farhadi and his cast do so doesn’t astonish so much as depress. His Hakuna Matata is decidedly grim and certainly not sing song.