I saw Edgar Wright’s “Baby Driver” twice in the span of a month and fixated primarily on how it functioned as a new take on the movie musical. (If you want my full thoughts on that aspect, check out my piece on Little White Lies – I do far more heavy lifting with the film there.) It is that, but like any great movie, it’s so much more.
It’s a kickass action flick where, for once, the terms “balletic” and “choreographed” are not critical hyperbole but apt, justified descriptions. Wright’s tightly edited escapes, whether by car or by foot, fall in lockstep with their musical inspirations as they play diegetically through the headphones of Ansel Elgort’s titular driver. Is this what it felt like to watch the “Ride of the Valkyries” sequence in “Apocalypse Now” back in the 1970s? “Baby Driver” is a giddy rush of cinephilia as Wright treats us to impeccable execution of a bold gambit.
It’s a film about how we relate to culture and to each other. Baby, an archetypal stoic stalwart, suffers from ailments both emotional (still traumatized from being orphaned in a tragic car crash) and physical (tinnitus leaves his ears constantly ringing). As such, he’s never one to communicate in a straightforward fashion. He signs with his deaf foster father. He pulls dialogue from the snippets of movies he sees on TV. He times his vehicular getaways to the music on his iPod (and one with a clickwheel, to boot). He’s more likely to block people out with his headphones and cheap sunglasses than let anyone in – until, of course, he catches a few bars from diner waitress Debra (Lily James).
I could sit here and bang out another few paragraphs trying to convince you of how much “Baby Driver” has to offer. But that might make you feel obliged to sit here and read my words, which will only serve to rob you of the experience of discovering the film’s ecstasy for yourself. There’s probably something you’ll find that did not even occur to me, and the film will motivate you to do so. Wright provides the perfect blend of originality, dazzling technical craft and emotionally invested storytelling to inspire a deeper dive into his movie’s pleasures. A- /
Director Liza Johnson has a tendency not to go for the easy laughs, perhaps even to the detriment of the films. In 2014’s “Hateship Loveship,” she almost never allowed Kristen Wiig’s pathetic protagonist to become the butt of the joke, even as she gets mercilessly pranked by a child half her age. Similarly, in “Elvis & Nixon,” the first name mentioned in this meeting of the minds seems ripe for humor at the expense of his larger-than-life persona.
Yet the comedy never really comes out of what feels like an easy farce. Johnson opts for a tone more dramatically oriented where the laughs feel incidental, not the very foundation of the film itself. She deserves a certain amount of respect for taking a more difficult path, but the question of “why?” does loom rather large. “Elvis & Nixon” is a glorified made-for-TV movie (perhaps not coincidentally, Amazon Studios is handling the film and giving it a relatively half-hearted theatrical release) which goes for entertainment value over thematic articulation each chance it gets. Her will for the film seems to clash with its essence.
Johnson seems to genuinely care for the characters, particularly Elvis Presley, played by Michael Shannon in the same way Michael Fassbender portrayed Steve Jobs: conceptual over essential. Sideburns and sunglasses might be his get-up, though Elvis is a walking meditation on celebrity more than anything else. For reasons that seem partially out of genuine concern and partially out of a “Make America Great Again”-style quest for greater societal repute, Elvis decides he wants to become a Federal Deputy At-Large to crack down on the drugs messing with kids’ minds. To do so, he feels the need to engage President Richard Nixon, performed by Kevin Spacey as a variation of Frank Underwood that spent significantly less time on the row machine.
The film is essentially just the lead-up to their meeting and then the meeting itself, nothing more or less. It’s simple and to the point, which proves both a strength and a weakness. Strong when considering how streamlined the whole operation is (“Elvis & Nixon” runs a slender 86 minutes) yet weak when contemplating all the threads of minor storylines that never get the development they deserve.
This is mainly disappointing for Alex Pettyfer, an actor in the midst of mounting a comeback after on-set drama with “Magic Mike” got him blackballed in the industry. As Jerry Schilling, Elvis’ right hand man, he must learn the consequences of his loyalty as they place a great strain on personal relationships. Too bad the film grants him such second fiddle status that his struggles feel inconsequential in the grand scheme of the narrative. B- /
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.
If anyone ever wanted to know about the problems facing rich white people, tell them to pop “Margin Call” into their DVD player. When it’s not faintly allegorizing what “Inside Job” had the balls to hit dead on, it’s dealing with the pathetic plight of financial sector employees like 23-year-old Seth Bregman (Penn Badgley) who is only bringing home $250,000 per year at an entry level position. Clearly he can related to little orphan Annie when she sang that it’s a hard knock life for us.
Writer/director J.C. Chandor, in his first feature, narrates the film much like a play, letting the principal characters guide the story. Aside from maybe one line from a security guard, you won’t hear the voice of the people who will be most affected by the actions in this movie. There’s one scene in an elevator where Demi Moore’s Sarah Robertson and Simon Baker’s Jared Cohen gravely discuss the implications of their conduct, and in between them is a cleaning lady. In one of the few great touches of the film and with an almost macabre sense of dark humor, Chandor makes sure that she is totally oblivious to the grave implications of what’s happening in the building she cleans.
“Margin Call” was the beneficiary of chance when the Occupy movement began right around its October 2011 release date, and there are several lines which I feel could have been ripped straight off their cardboard signs. His portrayal of the investment bankers are shallow, simply becoming more evil and out-of-touch with the more money they make. The sweeping generalizations of the film are about as ill-conceived as his “magic formula” that predicts the coming of the 2008 financial crisis; I’m wondering if even he knew what on earth it was. There’s no attempt to explain what a CDO is, or even what on earth these traders do. There’s great complexity to the system beyond his adaptation of “Baby’s First Guide to Capitalism,” believe it or not.
There are some decent acting moments that make “Margin Call” a watchable movie, and the script has just above the requisite amount of intrigue to keep your attention. But with all these “one percenter”s just talking about how to spend their millions in convertibles, you wouldn’t think that the world economy was about to collapse. I know that exists, but if you want to demonize rich people, why not just make a movie only about CEOs of investment banks in September 2008. C /
We are now inhabiting the post-“Hangover” world, and in case you needed any proof that studios are looking to locate the success gene in the hit comedy’s DNA, I submit “Horrible Bosses” as evidence. It really shouldn’t surprise you; it’s a page straight from the television networks’ playbook. As soon as Fox premiered “American Idol,” every network wanted a singing competition. After ABC had a big hit with “Dancing with the Stars,” every network suddenly had a dancing show. We live in a culture of thinly veiled rip-offs that barely bother to disguise their ever-so-slight variations from the original success story.
The good news for Seth Gordon and the “Horrible Bosses” team is that, at least at this moment, I still find the formula amusing and funny. The next movie shamelessly pressed from the “Hangover” mold, however, will probably not be in my good graces, so at least they got the timing right on this one. But the fact that some movie other than the sequel has tried using a similar blueprint for high cash and laugh returns signals a foreboding era in comedy. (Then again, I said the same thing last summer about “Iron Man 2” being the first of many “The Dark Knight” rip-offs, and nothing seems to have materialized there.)
The film invites these comparisons by using what may be the most recognizable aspect of “The Hangover” for laughs – the Wolfpack. From now on, any comedy that has a ragtag alliance of three thirtysomething guys will inevitably have to be measured against the ridiculously high standard set by Bradley Cooper, Ed Helms, and Zach Galifianakis. Unfair? Probably. Justified? Definitely.
A real review of David Fincher’s work should begin with “Se7en,” the first movie he takes full credit for. It was a financial success in 1995 and has since become an adored movie by fans on video. The movie currently sits at #26 on IMDb’s Top 250 movies as voted by users, and in today’s installment of Fincherfest, I will attempt to explain what has made it so endearing over the past 15 years.
I’m a big fan of “Seven,” but I hate to say that I don’t think it’s quite as good as some people think it is. According to Lisa Schwarzbaum, overrated is a big critical no-no word; however, since this is more a look in retrospect than a review, I don’t feel quite as bad using it.
Fincher does an excellent job directing a very cerebral world of horror, and as his first real directorial effort, it’s quite impressive. Yet overall, I wasn’t quite as affected by it as I felt I should have been. When it comes to serial killer movies, I much prefer “The Silence of the Lambs” and “No Country for Old Men.”
Yet I acknowledge that “Seven” has a very different kind of horror. We aren’t meant to be freaked out by the murderer John Doe (Kevin Spacey). We never see him committing any crimes, nor does he ever give us any indication that he might flip and kill another person. He’s just like anyone you could round up off the streets, and that makes him all the more frightening. John Doe is like Heath Ledger’s The Joker without a makeup and without any sense of humor. The tacit implication is that all of us have the capability to be John Doe, something quite scary to suggest and not the kind of message you want to walk away from a movie having learned. We never see the results of the killings, inspiring the audience to imagine the murder for themselves. Anyone who can do so has the inherent ability to be Doe.
Such a killer is the last person Detective Somerset (Morgan Freeman, pre-God) wants to deal with in his waning hours on the job. He and his replacement, Detective Mills (Brad Pitt), are drawn into the world of John Doe, who commits murders related to the Seven Deadly Sins. Catching him requires intellect, and they delve into the classic work of Dante, Thomas Aquinas, and others to figure out his modus operandi. The dialectic struggle between Somerset about to apathetically walk off the job and Mills eagerly awaiting his future is a fascinating backdrop to the rest of the brutal themes of the movie.
Apparently back in the ’90s, New Line Cinema advertised “Se7en” as a movie that you shouldn’t watch in the dark because that atmosphere would scare anyone to death. I did just that, and I found the darkness to be nothing more than a fitting complement to the universe Fincher crafts. It’s always muggy and rainy in the unidentified city where the murders take place, and the world view the movie espouses is bleaker than the weather. According to Somerset, the world is worth fighting for, but it’s hardly a fine place.
The more you think about it, the more you realize Fincher’s challenge to our assumptions of what is good and what is evil. The villain is defined … or is it? Such an idea is a little unsettling to audiences, but that hasn’t kept it from being very well received. Perhaps its forte isn’t in being a serial killer movie; the strength is in the social critique of the godlessness of society.
Much of “The Men Who Stare At Goats” follows dumb-struck reporter Bob Wilton (Ewan MacGregor) and straight-faced former psychic spy Lyn Cassidy (George Clooney) meandering through the Iraqi desert. Sadly, the movie follows suit, heading in several different directions at once, none of which with confidence. It is satirical but never makes the target inherently clear. It is farcical yet it continues to persist that what we are watching really happened. Thankfully, the movie manages to give the audience some good belly laughs while they scratch their heads trying to figure out the direction it is heading.
The main plot arc follows Wilton and Cassidy as they traverse through Iraq on a mission to find the remnants of the New Earth Army, a battalion using New Age tactics to gain such powers as invisibility, remote viewing, and walking through walls. Strangely, it is Wilton who tells us the history of the group informally known as the “Jedi Warriors.” It is curious that the filmmakers chose him to narrate the story through fragments in the principal narrative, seeing as Wilton would have no idea of what happened. These segments are the best and most uproarious parts of the movie, but they are thrown into the story so haphazardly that it becomes difficult to remember what is happening to Wilton and Cassidy. Both were story lines crucial to a full movie, but with a little discretion and some more mapping, a more cogent and enjoyable experience could have been easily possible.
“The Men Who Stare At Goats” really shines in its moments of pure absurdity, which could be exactly what the filmmakers didn’t want since they want us to believe that much of what is portrayed actually occurred. They aim for bizarrely plausible, but they wind up with laughably ridiculous. It is certainly enjoyable to see George Clooney in a role where he isn’t quite so staid and upright, and one can get a hearty chuckle out of seeing him with longer locks and putting on his boogie shoes. Ewan MacGregor, possibly cast just for added irony on all the Jedi jokes, performs almost a straight man-straight man routine with Clooney, yet somehow the combination yields a great deal of laughs. Jeff Bridges channels a bit of “The Dude” and Kevin Spacey brings an antagonistic smugness to his role, but neither seem entirely committed. In the end, “The Men Who Stare At Goats” provides you some of what you want but definitely not in the way that you want it. B /
PREFACE: I mentioned back in Random Factoid #42 that I had gone through a stint of reviewing movies when I was 13. After rummaging through my old home computer, I managed to find some of these reviews. In a special five day mini-series, I will reveal these reviews in their unadulterated form. I leave it up to you to comment, see how my style has changed (or maybe hasn’t). The second movie reviewed in the series is “Superman Returns.”
Silence. It is something you don’t get much in the summer, whether or not you are at the movies. This summer, Hollywood has produced mostly big, loud films that just ruin our eardrums. Silence gives the audience some time to think or to marvel about what is on the screen, while sometimes talking will just get overwhelming. Bryan Singer uses silence perfectly in the triumphant return of a disgraced series. It took plenty of changes in the cast and the director, but the wait was worth it. Brandon Routh dazzles as he tries to fill the enormous shoes left by the late Christopher Reeve, and the same goes for Kevin Spacey as he does a wonderful job as Lex Luthor. Everything is done to perfection. Before a big event, there is always some sort of silence for you to get the feel and to really get pulled in. The best example of this Superman returns to Earth after trying to find the distant remains of his home planet. His alter ego, Clark Kent goes back to work for The Daily Planet to find out that his perennial fave Lois Lane (stunningly beautiful Kate Bosworth) not only has a child with her boyfriend but has won the Pulitzer Prize for her article “Why the World Doesn’t Need Superman.” Lex Luthor is once again looking for a way to kill Superman. He collects some crystals from the Fortress of Solitude and combines it with Superman’s fatal weakness to try to destroy him once and for all. Along the way, the film is packed with emotion and intriguing plot twists. The best thing about Superman Returns is how it pays homage to its past by inserting clips of Marlon Brando from the original series. This is what a summer blockbuster should be, with action, emotion, and a perfect balance of silence. This movie is breathtaking and a work of magic in a summer littered with movies that Superman couldn’t save.
The holiday movie season begins to kick into high gear in the month of November, as does exciting Oscar season. Accordingly, this post is longer than the previous monthly preview posts. Brace yourself for movie mania coming your way in a few weeks. Sit back, relax, and let Marshall guide you through the coming attractions.
November 6
From the mainstream movie perspective, the hot movie of this weekend will be Robert Zemeckis’ adaptation of “A Christmas Carol.” Shot with the same motion capture technology that Zemeckis used to make “The Polar Express,” the movie will cash in on premium ticket prices from 3D and IMAX 3D screenings. My main concern about the quality of the movie itself lies with its principal actor, Jim Carrey, who will act as Scrooge and all three ghosts. I doubt Zemeckis will permit it, but I fear that Carrey will make a mockery of Dickens’ classic novel much in the fashion of Mike Meyers with “The Cat in the Hat.” Regardless of what critics say, I will probably end up seeing this with the family for some good old-fashioned family fun at the movies.
“The Men Who Stare at Goats” is the first movie of the holiday season to which George Clooney lends his talents. Here, he plays a a military man in charge of a secret unit that attempts to use psychic powers for military purpose. One such activity is to attempt to kill goats just by staring at them. The movie also stars Ewan MacGregor as the reporter who discovers it all; the cast also includes Jeff Bridges and Kevin Spacey. The movie is directed and adapted by Grant Heslov, previously nominated for an Academy Award for his work on “Good Night, and Good Luck.” The trailer seems to show Heslov’s approach as similar to the Coen Brothers who usually provide a fun-filled romp. Maybe the film will be a bona-fide indie hit, and Overture Films will be able to claim their first movie to gross over $50 million. But we’ll have to see.
I’ve already written about the Oscar favorite, “Precious,” in a previous Oscar Moment. I’ll post the trailer here just for the sake of promoting it, but if you want to hear my thoughts, read the post.
Two thrilling movies also open this week. First, “The Box” with Cameron Diaz and James Marsden, seems to have an intriguing premise: if you push the button on the box, you will get a million dollars, but someone you don’t know will die. However, it looks to be more interested in cheap thrills than exploring moral issues. The other, “The Fourth Kind,” looks downright scary. If horror is your thing, this looks like the movie for you. I saw the trailer at “District 9,” and even if you don’t want to see it, you have to ponder the validity of the “true story” behind the movie.
November 13
Disaster porn reaches its pinnacle this weekend. “2012,” Roland Emmerich’s apocalyptic film, will have some of the biggest destruction and explosions the world has ever seen. The trailer was so mind-blowing that I am willing to overlook all vices in the plot to see the world’s greatest landmarks get wiped off the earth. My only comment is that if John Cusack somehow finds a way to stop the end of the world, I will be enraged.
The other major wide release of the week is “Pirate Radio,” a movie that Focus Features so desperately wants you to see that they changed the title from “The Boat that Rocked” just a few weeks ago to appeal to you. Are you flattered? You shouldn’t be. The movie seems like comedic Oscar Bait, but it didn’t do well Britain, the country of production. Focus scrambled to change their focus from awards movie to popular movie. So whenever this pops into a theater near you, be armed with the knowledge that “Pirate Radio” is merely a washed-up Oscars wannabe. But make the decision to see it for yourself.
New York and Los Angeles get the treat of watching Wes Anderson’s adaptation Roald Dahl’s “Fantastic Mr. Fox.” I have the utmost respect for Anderson for not conforming to the growing trend to do all animation through computers. Anderson’s film uses the stop motion technique, moving an object gradually to give the illusion that it is moving. Even more exciting that Anderson’s eccentric style in an eccentric medium is the voice cast. Clooney voices the titular character, the cunning Mr. Fox. The cast also features Meryl Streep, Jason Schwartzman, Owen Wilson, and Bill Murray. What’s not to like? (NOTE: The movie expands on November 20 and enters wide release on November 25.)
For those who like very obscure indies, “That Evening Sun” with 87-year-old Oscar bridesmaid Hal Halbrook has his latest shot at the gold.
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