REVIEW: Elysium

2 03 2015

In April 2014, I started watching “Elysium” when I observed that it had arrived in my library. I grimaced my way through roughly 45 minutes and either fell asleep or became unavoidably detained. Then I just never got around to picking it back up again and wound up having to return the disc in order to avoid facing a fine.

I kept telling myself that I needed to pick it up just to finish it for the sole purpose of formulating some coherent thoughts to write a review. This internal conversation continued for nearly an entire year inside my head until, finally, I decided to give it another go since “District 9” writer/director Neill Blomkamp would soon unleash “Chappie” on theaters everywhere.

In short, I regret this decision.

The most interesting aspect of “Elysium” is how on earth something so violently anti-capitalist, anti-1% managed to find funding in the first place. Sure, some of these movies do manage to get through, but they are usually independently financed and then released without the help of a major studio. They also seem to temper their rage, at least enough to prevent the enterprise from seeming like an all-out vilification of the wealthy.

Blomkamp formulates a compelling scenario for his film, a world where the rich have fled a polluted, overcrowded planet to inhabit Elysium. Here, in this literal representation of what the Greeks mythologized as a paradise for heroes, those who can afford it can frolic around a ring orbiting the earth knowing that their health is always secure. Of course, anyone who lives up in the air has to resemble a cartoonish villain, even Jodie Foster’s Defense Secretary Delacourt.

Matt Damon’s Max Da Costa, ailing from a workplace accident that left him exposed to dangerous radioactive material, leads the small proletariat revolution against those hoarding access to medical care. It might have made for a fascinating, discussion-worthy visualization of the figurative “class warfare” narrative that gets tossed around quite a bit in the political sphere. Instead, it’s a boring, derivative action flick where the only thing more simpleminded than the ideology is the violent melee.  C2stars





REVIEW: Delivery Man

1 03 2015

A headline on The Onion anticipating the release of “The Internship” says everything that needs to be said about the present state of Vince Vaughn’s career: “‘The Internship’ Poised To Be Biggest Comedy Of 2005.”

Ever since that comedy went supernova in the summer of 2005, Vaughn has been spinning his wheels playing the same tall, loud-mouthed, fast-talking brash character.  “Delivery Man,” where he plays a man vacillating between whether or not to reveal his identity to the 533 children his sperm fathered, is no different from any other Vaughn film of the past 8 years.

Sure, I got a few laughs out of the endeavor.  Vince Vaughn is a gifted comedian, and he can usually provide some funny moments so long as the script isn’t a total nightmare (cough, “The Watch“).  But it’s an effort of increasing futility for him to hope lightning strikes the same place twice while he does the “Wedding Crashers” schtick yet again.  He misses the chance to delve deeper into the drama of “Delivery Man,” which could have been a fertile ground for an interesting character study.

Vaughn has not even managed to do anything subversive with his iconic persona.  Save a bit part in Sean Penn’s “Into the Wild,” all he’s done since 2005 are broad comedies cast from the same mold.  At least Owen Wilson has expanded his repertoire, continuing to collaborate with Wes Anderson (with whom he shared an Oscar nomination for “The Royal Tenenbaums“) as well as working with Woody Allen, Peter Bogdanovich, and Paul Thomas Anderson.  Wilson has had projects like “Hall Pass” too, but at least he’s making an effort to diversify.

And the fact that he’s eclipsed in “Delivery Man” by rising comedic star Chris Pratt marks the surest sign that Vaughn’s allure is fading fast.  Pratt plays a bozo on “Parks and Recreation,” but he’s also put in surprising turns in “Moneyball” and “Zero Dark Thirty” that may have led to his casting in a very different role for Marvel’s “Guardians of the Galaxy.”  Vaughn is surrounded by examples of how to branch out, yet he remains defiantly himself.

So get ready to toss his next film in the pile of the forgettable with “Delivery Man.”  And “The Internship.”  And “The Dilemma.”  And “Couples Retreat.”  And “The Break-Up.”  Banality loves company.  C2stars





REVIEW: Maps to the Stars

28 02 2015

MapsI have spent extended periods of time in Hollywood, and I really wish I had David Cronenberg’s “Maps to the Stars” by my side then to confirm all my suspicions and misgivings.  Director David Cronenberg and writer Bruce Wagner do not merely depict the shallowness and the narcissism dominant in the local culture so much as they diagnose it.  The film pinpoints a number of endemic ills in a town built on deception with the accuracy of a pathologist.

This saga of shameless self-promoters caught in a tangled web of ego bashing may not quite cohere in its explosive third act, yet it hardly detracts from the pleasure of simply watching them exist for an hour or so.  Cronenberg gets his cast to deliver performances tuned to the perfect channel: exaggeratedly hilarious without ever veering sharply into parodic or burlesquing territory.

Nowhere does this approach find better expression than in Julianne Moore’s brilliantly demented Havana Segrand, which – all due respect to “Still Alice” –  is the kind of work that should have netted the actress her first Oscar.  Nonetheless, she has the statue now, and we have this performance to relish forever.

Havana is Moore’s Norma Desmond, the fading and aging screen icon vividly realized by Gloria Swanson in “Sunset Boulevard.”  In an obvious attempt to jumpstart her career again, Havana tries desperately to land a coveted part in a remake of a movie that originally starred her late mother.  To settle her neuroses and ease her pain in the meantime, she hires a new “chore whore” at the suggestion of Carrie Fisher (playing herself, in a brilliantly ironic insertion by Wagner) – the mysterious burn victim Agatha (Mia Wasikowska) who recently arrived in town.

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REVIEW: Big Hero 6

27 02 2015

Disney Animation often tries to repackage tried and true formulas, although they usually pull their material from within.  “Tangled” and “Frozen,” of course, try to channel the hand-drawn princess magic.  “Big Hero 6,” on the other hand, appropriates from one of the best non-Mouse House animated films of recent years: “The Iron Giant.”

Baymax, the robotic spectacle of “Big Hero 6,” looks more like a giant marshmallow puff than a welded set of metal beams.  His function, however, proves virtually analogous to the Iron Giant’s.  Baymax arrives to help and to heal, not to inflict harm or wounds.  This mainly takes the form of ministering to a boy in a single-parent household still reeling from the loss of a family member; here, that would be the racially ambiguous Hiro.

Even though Baymax looks cushier and sounds more gently reassuring than the scratchily voiced (by Vin Diesel, no less) metallic behemoth, “Big Hero 6” feels lacking in the charm and emotional pull of “The Iron Giant.”  Heck, it falls short of even some of the mode mediocre Disney flicks.  And it certainly does not have the creativity of “Wreck-It Ralph” to fall back on when it cannot deliver on the feelings front.  While “Big Hero 6” crafts a clever world – San Fransokyo – in which its characters can roam and provides some flashy visuals, it skimps out on character development and thus cannot quite deliver that human spark when it needs to do so.

This might have something to do with the fact that the film started out as a Marvel property.  Even though they gave Disney full autonomy to make the movie they wanted, the influence of the comics juggernaut rears its head once more to spoil what could have been a great movie.  By the time “Big Hero 6” gets to some fairly complex moral deliberations from its simple-speaking robot in the final act, the stakes are not really established to make them feel of any consequence.  B-2stars





F.I.L.M. of the Week (February 26, 2015)

26 02 2015

As it turns out, Kevin Spacey has been training to play the role of his life, Frank Underwood, for decades now.  Back in 1995, he starred in “Swimming with Sharks,” a biting satirization of Hollywood’s corporate culture.  But, rest assured, there are no résumé requirements necessary to enjoy the film since it so perfectly captures the experience of working for a hellacious boss.  Writer/director George Huang manages the balance of the specific and the generalizable so well that his debut feature earns my nod for the “F.I.L.M. of the Week.”

This film saw release long before Meryl Streep’s Miranda Priestly cast an icy spell over the hot summer moviegoing scene in “The Devil Wears Prada,” and it even predates Spacey’s later turn as a sadistic slavedriver executive in “Horrible Bosses.”  Yet even in spite of the proliferation of the archetype, “Swimming with Sharks” still entertains and enlightens with its valid criticisms of the Hollywood system.

The subject of the film is not Spacey’s bag of hot air masquerading around in a fancy suit, Buddy Ackerman, though.  The events of “Swimming with Sharks” are seen and felt through his latest poor assistant, aptly named Guy (Frank Whaley), who has to endure constant harassment and humiliation until he amasses enough experience to move up in the business.  Buddy boasts all the pedantry and pettiness of Jeremy Piven’s Ari Gold from “Entourage,” although he appears relatively lacking in creativity and productivity to earn the rights to be such a jerk.

What inevitably follows comes with a strange mixture of pity, rage, schadenfreude, and even a little bit of surprising empathy.  Even within the confines of a fairly familiar story, Huang makes his everyman worth rooting for by stacking the odds heavily against him – as well as pitting him against a particularly devilish superior.  Spacey knows how to be scarily threatening with his words, and he also knows how to be scarily vulnerable with his emotions when the time comes.





REVIEW: The Search for General Tso

25 02 2015

General TsoWith a title like “The Search for General Tso,” one would expect something like a Food Network special.  But the documentary actually turns out to be less like that network and more like something found on the History Channel (although the last time I looked at the latter channel, I saw very little that qualified as historical).

By looking at the evolution of Chinese food and how entrepreneurial restauranteurs adapted it to fit the tastes of the host culture, “The Search for General Tso” finds a microcosm of the immigrant experience in America.  Changes in cuisine are highly tied to political events from Congressional exclusion acts to Nixon’s visit to the East that “opened” China.  Oh, and delectable items like the fortune cookie and General Tso’s chicken? Both 100% American inventions.

Director Ian Chaney’s film is really a tale about cultural appropriation and its omnipresence, which has really undermined the way the world understands the concept of “authenticity.”  Searching for General Tso marks not so much an objective for the documentary as it symbolically represents the social construction of ethnic culture.  In a slender 71 minute package, it whips up a satisfying meal – although such a short runtime can’t help but leave some lingering desire for an additional course.  B2halfstars





REVIEW: Girlhood

24 02 2015

GirlhoodWriter/director Céline Sciamma’s third feature bears the title “Bande de Filles” in its native French tongue, which translates roughly to band (or group) of girls.  Yet the English release of the film gives it this name: “Girlhood.”  The title seems not only ill-fitting but also begging for immediate foiling against Richard Linklater’s “Boyhood.”

Such a comparison is facile and does a disservice to Sciamma’s wonderfully observed film.  She does not aim to provide a wide-ranging snapshot of female youth.  “Girlhood” is less about one girl, be she specific or a stand-in for all women, and more about gendered group dynamics filtered through the experience of the protagonist, Marieme (Karidja Touré).  Sciamma’s work does resemble many other great films, however.

“Girlhood” recalls Tina Fey’s insightful script for “Mean Girls,” which also focuses on a troublemaking quartet of girls.  Both depict the ways in which either one person can set the tone for an entire group – or a paralysis of groupthink can conduct the unit.  Perhaps the most memorable scene in “Girlhood,” save a lip-sync rendition of “Diamonds” by Rhianna, occurs when the clique encounters a former member who was exiled when she became pregnant.  Group identity is everything for these adolescent girls, until it is nothing.

“Girlhood” recalls Catherine Hardwicke’s hard-hitting “Thirteen,” an intense drama that follows two taboo-shattering teen girls down a rabbit hole of drug abuse and promiscuity.  Admittedly, this connection is more superficial.  Sciamma shows her main characters committing some questionable acts, but they do not necessarily define them as people.

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REVIEW: Serena

23 02 2015

SerenaDespite all the negative press churned out by the rumor mill as it sat for years in the editing bay, “Serena” is far from a disaster.  Susanne Bier’s saga of competition and coveting in 1920s North Carolina certainly contains a fair share of riveting moments.  Overall, though, it seems to lack focus.

For instance, is the protagonist of the story George Pemberton, Bradley Cooper’s timber baron intent on protecting his land from government encroachment?  Or is it Serena Pemberton, Jennifer Lawrence’s arrestingly beautiful and tempestuously emotional business and life partner?  The answer is unclear because the movie lacks decisiveness.

The same goes for which of the two storylines in “Serena” – George and Serena’s tumultuous marriage, or their contentious capitalistic ventures – serves as the predominant one.  The film would have undoubtedly benefitted from the demotion of one to the status of a subplot.

With some of these fairly basic issues left unsettled, “Serena” quickly becomes mostly notable as a showcase for its stars.  Had Bier and her editors somehow turned the film around in a few months after shooting in spring 2012, the performances would likely have received no end of acclaim.  But now, three years have passed, in which time Cooper and Lawrence have collected a whopping five Oscar nominations.  Their George and Serena now feel rather penciled-in when measured against Pat Solitano and Tiffany Maxwell.

The 105 minutes necessary to watch “Serena” might be put to better use by rewatching “Silver Linings Playbook,” “American Hustle,” or “American Sniper.”  Those films feature the stars giving more fully fleshed-out performances (with better accents) while also featuring more confident direction.  The fine details available for discovery by digging deeper into those characters far outweighs what can be skimmed from the surface of this middle-of-the-road flick.  C+2stars





REVIEW: Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench

22 02 2015

Guy and MadelineDamien Chazelle might have struck gold on “Whiplash,” but before that, he had to get “Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench” out of his system.  The former, now Oscar-winning film feels like the story the writer/director was born to tell.  His actual debut, however, seems like that final student film he had to submit to get a diploma.  (Chazelle is a Harvard graduate, by the way.)

Even as it catapults well over the bar of the average thesis film, “Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench” still feels mired in its trappings.  Chazelle feels beholden to a stubborn insistence on his own artiness, as if to announce his own arrival onto the scene.  And, apparently, he seems willing to sacrifice the narrative clarity of his modern romance on its behalf.

He demonstrates a clear understanding of both cinema verite American independent film as well as MGM-style filmed musicals, even making the bold move to combine them into a single feature.  When he wants, Chazelle proves capable of making a few fun modernizations to the movie musical tropes.  But more often than not, “Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench” appears uncommitted to its stylistic approach.  Chazelle, understandably, comes across as somewhat apprehensive of going full throttle.  C+2stars





REVIEW: John Wick

21 02 2015

John WickDirector Chad Stahelski and writer Derek Kolstad made it abundantly clear to star Keanu Reeves what kind of action movie “John Wick” should be.  This was not a philosophical puzzle like “The Matrix” or a thrilling cat-and-mouse adventure like “Speed.”  It was just fun, stupid entertainment that was fully aware of its own ridiculousness.

These unabashedly silly popcorn flicks can serve as fun antidotes to movies dripping in self-seriousness or an inflated sense of importance.  And, on paper, the seemingly washed-up Reeves makes for the perfect casting choice.  His presence also lends the film a meta narrative to accompany its actual one.  Reeves’ John Wick reawakens from retirement to unleash a can of whoop-ass on some people who did him wrong, just as it appears the actor himself wants to prove some value past his supposed expiration date.

While Reeves enables “John Wick” to reach its goal of being a campy, kitschy action film, he never does anything to help the movie differentiate itself.  If someone is in the mood for what the kind of adrenaline rush it hopes to offer, nothing stands out about this particular film.  Many other movies do it better (just in 2014, “Lucy” easily outdid it – and is rare for actually caring about women).

The only real highlight of “John Wick” is watching a B-list “The Expendables” form among the supporting cast.  Stahelski must have hired one great casting director if they could get all these notable character actors in one film.  Most just have one random scene, but when Willem Dafoe, John Leguizamo, Ian McShane, and Michael Nyqvist (from the Swedish “Dragon Tattoo” and “Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol“) all show up, it is only natural to wonder who will pop up from behind the next door.  C+2stars





REVIEW: Wild Tales

20 02 2015

Wild TalesOver the past few years, the phenomenon of binge-watching television shows has essentially revolutionized the way media and narratives are consumed.  When they can sit still for longer than the duration of a ten-second snapchat, people now want a rapid succession of rising action and escalating climaxes.

Argentinian director Damián Szifron is certainly not the first person to create an anthology film, nor is he unique in housing multiple narrative threads under the same canopy.  Nonetheless, his “Wild Tales” feels special in the way it adapts this form to meet the demands of an audience with access to troves of great television (not to mention short films).  This thematically curated collection of six large scale mini-movies permits a rhythm of continual engagement and repeated payoff.

These dividends feel substantially greater than the average movie.  The effect could have something to do with the quantity of storytelling present in “Wild Tales,” yet Szifron also brings some serious quality to the table as well.  His characters and scenarios range from a jilted wife at her wedding reception to a raging motorist and even a plane full of people who all crossed the wrong man, but they all somehow circle back to matters of animalistic revenge and cosmic karma.

Fittingly, Szifron supplies a wickedly biting sense of irony to every tale.  While the guiding approach to each story might be similar, the manifestations are only similar in their dark, demented humor.  Those familiar with the social and political context of Argentina might get a little more out of the film, though “Wild Tales” communicates on such primal channels of human impulse that its appeal is not tied to one nation.  Anyone who has ever felt victimized or wronged by some unexplainable force should find something relatable in Szifron’s compilation … and then relish hovering over the proceedings, observing the pain of others from a god-like distance.  A-3halfstars





F.I.L.M. of the Week (February 19, 2015)

19 02 2015

The Imposter

“For as long as I could remember, I wanted to be someone else.”  So begins Frederic Bourdain, the narrator of Bart Layton’s documentary, “The Imposter.”  The line may seem commonplace, but it sets the stage for a rich exploration of identity – inherited, assumed, and forged.

Here is a case where the truth is not only stranger than fiction, as the old adage goes. “The Imposter” is also more interesting and compelling than many scripted narrative films these days, thus making it a more than deserving choice for my “F.I.L.M. of the Week.”  Bourdain uses one real story to illuminate the human proclivity for deception on a much grander scale, showing the way we bury secrets through buying into our own lies.

In 1990s Texas, 13-year-old Nicholas Barclay disappears.  Three years later, he mysteriously reappears in Spain.  It’s rare to find a missing child alive years after disappearance … and even more uncommon to find that child in another country.  If the documentary sounds like a first cousin of the Clint Eastwood-Angelina Jolie film “Changeling,” the similarities end past the logline.

As the title implies, “The Imposter” is about someone pretending to be Nicholas Barclay – in this case, Frederic Bourdain.  A bum looking for any path to a better life, he falls short of a criminal mastermind, though he certainly knows how to exploit loopholes and alleyways in a lazy bureaucracy.  Somehow, he manages to circumvent each and every safeguard that should have exposed his act.

Since the film’s title makes direct reference to his deception, the through-line of suspense is the anticipation of the moment when his house of cards tumbles.  Yet just when the jig seems up for Bourdain, “The Imposter” takes one heck of a surprising turn.  Perhaps there is not only one talented artist of concealment in the film.  I’ll stop talking now, lest I spoil this gripping, entertaining, and enlightening film.





REVIEW: Hits

18 02 2015

HitsHits” begins with a title card that recalls the one preceding 2013’s “American Hustle.”  This one says, “Based on a true story … that hasn’t happened yet.”  In other words, it marks writer/director David Cross’ way of saying that he wants to kvetch endlessly about the present day under the guise of satirization.

Maybe I’m still a little bit defensive about that horrendous TIME Magazine cover calling millennials “The Me Me Me Generation,” as if the generations before us have a spotless record and never posed any worry for their parents.  Nonetheless, I cannot help but get annoyed by vast generalizations about the youth these days as disgusting, device-addicted narcissists.  It is certainly true of many people, and I will not deny it; the world just needs some positive images of us.

That virality is one of the chief virtues of our society is certainly no secret, nor is the triumph of fame over hard-earned success.  Cross, though, seems to act as if he is delivering a message sent from heaven to enlighten us idiots.  “Hits” aims to pick only the lowest hanging fruit and juice it for cheap laughs.  (At least he picks up on an equally ludicrous breed, the self-righteous Gen X social media activist.)

Beyond the handicap of simply recapitulating the obvious, Cross’ first foray into feature filmmaking just cannot sustain its 90 minute runtime.  The characters that populate his ridiculous universe scarcely possess the depth for a comedy sketch; expecting them to remain entertaining and engaging for an entire movie is preposterous.  They might work well for a web series, however, if Cross could add some depth of thought to an only slightly revamped stereotype of the vapid fame-seeker.   C2stars





REVIEW: Timbuktu

17 02 2015

TimbuktuAbderrahmane Sissako’s “Timbuktu” shows the consequences of radical Jihadist rule in a small north African village to gripping effect.  No one goes untouched by their moralistic scourge as the fundamentalists clamp down on basic liberties and freedoms.  The violent authorities tolerate no view or action milder than their deeply entrenched extremist stances, and anyone who crosses them must pay at the hands of a barbaric punishment they mete out.

Sissako’s canvas is vast and wide to show how pernicious and pervasive the power of the group truly becomes.  Yet, at the same time, he also layers in various personal strands that allow “Timbuktu” to hit home on a gut level.  The film only runs 100 minutes, an economy which is usually a virtue.  Here, however, the length works against it as the timeframe only permits real intimacy with one family of cow farmers on the outskirts of the town.

Everyone else seems real enough, but they lack the screen time to really forge a meaningful connection with the audience.  The poignancy and the tragedy of “Timbuktu” would easily earn another 30 or 40 minutes.  Sissako’s unflinching look at dignity lost in the face of an inhumane regime confidently commands attention and respect.  It gets that – and then some.  B2halfstars





REVIEW: Still Alice

16 02 2015

Richard Glatzer and Wash Westmoreland adapted “Still Alice” from a novel by Lisa Genova.  But had I not known that going in, I would have assumed the film was based on a play.

The directors shoot the film with a gentle, soft, and unobtrusive light.  The lines flow nicely.  The scenes feel distinct and compartmentalized.  Heck, the film even ends by literally ripping out the final page from “Angels in America,” one of the American dramatic classics!

What ultimately separates “Still Alice” from the stage, however, is the masterfully detailed performance of Julianne Moore.  She stars as Alice Howland, a 50-year-old linguistics professor stricken with early onset Alzheimer’s disease, and the camera-eye of the cinema is necessary to observe her slow deterioration.  Since seeing the decay of her brain is impossible, her illness has to manifest itself in the tiniest twitches of Moore’s face.

Like fellow 2014 release “The Theory of Everything,” which followed a physical rather than a mental degeneration, “Still Alice” derives its very narrative motion from discerning which faculty will disappear next.  In other words, the filmmakers invite gaping and marveling at the technically proficient acting on display behind the figurative glass cage of the screen.  The film plays almost as suspenseful in its measured anticipation of a firm break from reality by Alice, and credit Moore for turning in a performance so gentle and full of integrity that her character’s normalcy inspires unease.

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