The Ballad of Jack & Rose (2005, Rebecca Miller, USA): 47
Directed by the daughter of playwright Arthur Miller (as well as being the wife of male lead Daniel Day Lewis), The Ballad of Jack & Rose plays out as two disperate films rolled into one uneven package. On the one hand, it is a film about a father and daughter and their trepidatious relationship. On the other hand it is a film about old versus new. A communistic mentality of sharing and comforting against a mentality of greed and corporate/suburban intrusion. The film only works on the former level and only manages to feel like a cliche in the latter.
Daniel Day-Lewis is (as always) brilliantly aloof as the father of a teenage daughter who wants to raise her in his own traditional down-to-Earth hippy kind of way. Unfortunately he is quickly dying and doesn't want his Rose to be left alone in a world she has no clue of understanding. Raised inside a seeming vacuum, with no knowledge of the world of T.V or movies or the modern pop cultured world, Rose - played with a quiet ferocity by Camilla Belle - is a time-bomb of sexual curiosity, just pining away for her father's eternal love and the more physical love of a man. Sometimes, in young Rose's mind, these two kinds of love are forever intertwined in a dark mass confusion. Thrown into the middle of this steaming pot is Kathleen - portrayed by the tough beauty and oft-overlooked Catherine Keener - Jack's secret girlfriend and a frazzled, bumfuzzled mother of two teenaged boys.
A biting and ultimately fatal story given the weight of truth by these three great actors, is only pulled asunder when tossed into the "other" subplot of suburban sprawl and Jack's futile fight against the coming of a housing developemnt upon his once peaceful communal island. Full of cliches and lost metaphors, this half of the film (actually only about a fourth of it), may be the thing keeping this well-made film from becoming the potentially great work it could be.
-April 24, 2005
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Batman Begins (2005, Christopher Nolan, USA): 45
Far from a great film, though I don't believe the genre would allow for it, Christopher Nolan's Batman Begins is still a far cry from the last Batman to find his way onto the big screen - not that 1996's Batman & Robin would be that tough an act to follow. That film - a debacle from the King/Queen of debacles, Joel Schumacher - harkened more to the campiness of the old TV side of things, with it's ridiculously made-up Mr. freeze, played by the equally ridiculous then-future Governor of California, and its potentiality-killing version of the comic book's lurid Poison Ivy, played by the she-deserves-much-better Uma Thurman. Add to that, the disastrous mistake of plopping in the completely unhip character of Robin, played by the completely unhip Chris O'Donnell, and you have one of the worst films of the Nineties.
But enough about the problematics of a film nearly a decade old. Let us discuss this new, some may say, reinvented Batman - although the reinvention actually took place in the 1980's, from the mind of Frank Miller. Mainly, the reason I went on so long about the last Batman film, instead of talking much about this fifth outing, is because there is absolutely nothing to talk about here. Nolan, whose Memento was a semi-brilliant concept movie, has been turned to the dark side - Hollywood mainstream consciousness. There is a pervailing PG13 wind blowing through the land, that hails the antiseptic blandness of modern day studio movies, made purposely to be suitable for as many paying customers as possible, and letting any (and all?) artistic merit fly out the proverbial window.
-June 18, 2005
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The Beat that my Heart Skipped (2005, Jacques Audiard, France): 68
Framed with a visual style that keeps your own heart from beating along its regular pattern, Audiard's latest film plays out like a lot of mind over matter - or style over substance - for most of its 108 minutes, until finally, redeeming itself in a final half hour of pure intensity and psychological bruvara.
Romain Duris, in a stunningly electricity-riddled performance, plays Thomas, a street-tough mini-mobster in Paris, whose local claim to fame is how quickly - and how brutally - he can "evict" unwanted tenants, or "elicit" overdue rent money. Seemingly trapped inside a decaying world of blood money and inevitable death-at-a-young-age, Thomas peers a way out. Running into an old piano teacher, from before his mob days, Thomas is given the second-sighted opportunity of a life in the classical music world - a life that died long ago, with the death of his mother, a former concert pianist. The only problem is, will his current life let him off the hook before it's too late?
The tragedy of the film may be easily seen its coming, but nevertheless, Audiard's down & dirty camera style and Duris' down & dirtier performance, manage to keep us from our own regular heartbeat, long enough to become sucked in.
-August 18, 2005
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Bewitched (2005, Nora Ephron, USA): 32
Nicole Kidman is one of those actors than can do phenominal work - Dogville, Birth, The Human Stain - and turn around right in the middle and star in the remake of The Stepford Wives, a ridiculously tepid version of the original. Well Nicole, you did it again. Bewitched, which is actually more of a retooling than a remake of the classic TV show, has the same problems going for it that her Stepford debacle had. Almost nobody in this cast, which includes Will Ferrell, Michael Caine, Shirley MacLaine, Steve Carell, David Alan Grier and Jason Schwartzman, seems to be having any fun whatsoever. Even in the scenes where fun should be unsueing, the actors just seem like all they want is their paycheck so they can go home. The one exception to this problem, which is what differs from Stepford, is Nicole Kidman herself. She seems to be having all the fun in the room. Perhaps tired of such morose, yet brilliantly played, roles in her last couple of films, she has decided to let it all out here - leaving no room for any other fun to be had. Or maybe she is just a lot happier over her paycheck, which I'm sure is much higher than the rest of the cast. Although Kidman has the nose twitch down and does bear a resemblence to Elizabeth Montgomery's Samantha (one of my first boyhood crushes), all-in-all, Nora Ephron's Bewitched is nothing more than a lackluster little comedy, without much comedy to speak of and without much energy blowing through its sails.
-June 24, 2005
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Bride & Prejudice (2004, Gurinder Chadha, UK): 51
Chadha, who's last film, Bend it Like Beckham, was much more enjoyable than it probably should have been, has managed that same feat again. Bride & Prejudice, obviously based on the Jane Austin novel, is Chadha's attempt at making a Bollywood Musical - full of ridiculous dance numbers and outlandishly garish costumes. With the exception of this film running a lot shorter than the normal Bollywood running time of 3 to 4 hours, she succeeds. She succeeds on at least a superficial level - but then how else could one succeed in making a Bollywoodesque musical?
As long as one reads this film as being a musical-comedy (emphasis on comedy), then they should have no problem thinking Chadha succeeded as well. The musical numbers, all truly delightful (my favourite is the "no life without a wife" number, sung by the four sisters all dressed in white pajamas) take on a sort of surreal quality as you watch them unfold. The first number actually caught me off guard - I think I may have forgotten it was a Musical for the first ten minutes. Especially watch for one of the closing numbers, where our stars are walking on the beach and a blue-robed choir comes out of nowhere, followed by a group of singing surfers and then (the best part) a pair of Baywatch rejects come running out of the lifeguard tower to join in the singing and dancing. This looks more like something out of a Zucker Brothers film than anything else - but it works. Silly and spoofish, the film actually works on these levels - though far from great, still a really fun ride to be on (even if you may be too embarrassed to say so).
-March 24, 2005
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Brødre (2004, Susanne Bier, Denmark): 71
With the moody elegance that seems to creep its way through all of Danish cinema, Susanne Bier has created what at first appears to be just a standard romantic triangle movie, but slowly escalates into a somewhat taut passionate psychological drama - only to eventually turn right back around into an overtly predictable diatribe on marriage, loyalty and desertion. But while it is on - which I must say is at least three fourths of its running time - it is definately on.
Actually two stories intermingling with each other, as a Danish army officer is shot down and presumed dead, his family back home mourns his apparent death and the officer's estranged ex-con brother falls for the grieving widow - and she falls back. With nothing more than a single kiss - and many a lusty what-if - the brother and widow seek solace in each other, and in doing so both grow as human beings. Meanwhile, the husband is lost in his own Hearts of Darkness nightmare in a Taliban POW camp. Once the husband finally comes home, nothing can ever be the same.
Well acted all around, especially Connie Nielsen as the bewildered, nearly lost widow. The film is chilling at times and gives way to a dark underbelly, not at first evident. Bier, in the vein of fellow Danes, von Trier and Vinterberg, definately has the strength of convictions going for her - and although it gets muddled sometimes here - the end result is a heavily-weighted mood piece designed for those of us who don't see the world in a cookie-cutter Hollywood way.
-November 17, 2005
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Charlie & the Chocolate Factory (2005, Tim Burton, USA): 42
I'll admit it right off - I don't like Tim Burton! Sure, he can make fun eye-candy (Beetlejuice, Edward Scissorhands, Sleepy Hollow) and he even created a single not-so-bad film (his ode to Z-grade Auteur Ed Wood), but when it comes to being a creatively energetic filmmaker full of stimulating ideas, well, he just ain't got it. Which brings me to the fact that I might have enjoyed this retooling of Roald Dahl's classic children's book of the same name, but once again, it is more eye-candy than an actual meal of any sort - which I suppose makes some sense for the film's subject matter - and it is Johnny Depp's eclectic ouvre characterizations he brings to the fold that really makes the film better than it probably should be - but that is nothing new to Tim Burton, is it?
Full of great lines and enough chocolate to make this self-professed chocaholic go stir crazy while having to sit in that darkened theatre sans any chocolate confectionary of any kind - a thing I did remedy as soon as leaving the theatre - but still a blah blah blah fluffy hunk of fromage from the master of souless visualizationics.
-July 18, 2005
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Constantine (2005, Francis Lawrence, USA): 44
Let's not dwell on the question of why Keanu Reeves would choose to play the role of a loner set out to save the world from an unknown and unseen alternate world of evil, immediately following his Matrix trilogy, where he played a loner set out to save the world...you know the rest. Instead, let's look at Constantine (based on DC/Vertigo Comics Hellblazer series) from a fresh vantage point - okay, so we still don't get much, do we?. John Constantine (the initials J.C. should not be lost on anyone) is a seemingly doomed character who may or may not be partly divine...wait a minute, am I talking about The Matrix again? - Let's get off that subject and move on.
Reeves, in complete rulebook fashion for the modern anti-hero, is a chain-smoking, pissed off rebel, who seems to be helping people with a nothing-better-to-do attitude. Actually he helps people in order to be let into Heaven (the lapsed Catholic attempted suicide as a teenager and caught a glimpse of Hell in the doing) - if he does enough good, will God forgive his sins? Not that Constantine delves very deep into the spiritual well that it attempts to gulp buckets from - suspiciously a lot like the pseudo-christian folklorish storytelling of The Matrix (a film, the original at least, that should have been much better than it was) - but I said I wouldn't talk about those films anymore.
No worse or no better than any one of your atypical Hollywoood horror/action pics (Van Helsing's equally ludicrous little brother?). Not a bad film, just typical (not even as originally morose as the comic), full of the sexy but tough damsel-in-distress, the funny but ultimately doomed sidekick, the broken down mentor, the smooth sauve villian (played with a certain glee by rock star Gavin Rossdale) and, of course the atypical happy ending (I'm sure I spoiled nobodys expectations with that "spoiler"). The two shining points in the film are the slyly sexy androgynous Tilda Swinton as the Archangel Gabriel and Peter Storemare who plays Lucifer as some sort of cross-hybrid of Hannibal Lector and Peter Allen. Otherwise, Constantine plays out as just another in a long long ever-so-long line of unchallenging, audience pandering, easy-on-the-eyes (and brain) one-liner motion pictures (hmm, like The Matrix maybe - there I did it again).
-February 21, 2005
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Crash (2005, Paul Haggis, USA): 43
A friend of mine, after seeing Crash - and walking out three quarters of the way through the film - told me his reason for hating the movie was his inability to enjoy something if it has even the slightest hint of seriousness to it. I paraphrased his actual reaction for dramatic purposes, but the tone is the same. When asked what the meaning of the film was, I told him it was about the stupidity of racism. He said, fine, but did it have to be shoved down his throat. Of course the fact that this person is an ultra conservative Republican who makes dreamy puppy dog eyes every time the name George W. Bush is brought up in conversations (usually in a negative conotation, considering me and most of my crowd), makes his reactionary afront to a film as glibly liberal as Crash seem more understandable - if not still ridiculous.
As far as the actual film goes, the directorial debut of Million Dollar Baby screenwriter Paul Haggis really wasn't a selling point for me (I still don't understand what everyone saw in that film), although its grouping with such films as Short Cuts and Magnolia did turn me on - even if it did star Sandra Bullock and Brendan Fraser (neither of which is actually in the film all that much). The brunt of the emotional toll of the film is held up by Terrance Howard and Thandie Newton as an affluent African-American couple that must deal with the aftermath of a racist pullover from a molesting cop. The cop is played with utter intensity by Matt Dillon and his unwittingly naive partner is played with a sad foreboding by Ryan Phillippe. Everyone, Don Cheadle, Larenz Tate, Michael Pena, Ludachris, Bullock and Fraser even, and a surprisingly dark cameo from Tony Danza, are great in this film - despite the amateurish screenplay and direction from Haggis.
Emotional blackmail for the majority of the script, it is the grandiose performances that keep this otherwise ridiculous film held together. Crash tries to be a defiantly complex film with hidden meanings and truths in every word spoken, and does manage that on occasion, but still ends up dissapating when we can manage to see through the gauzy pretentions of its story.
-May 11, 2005
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Dear Wendy (2005, Thomas Vinterberg, Denmark): 70
Many critics - mostly those in the cozy comfy confines of the continental USA - decry Lars von Trier as everything from a radical anti-American zealot to a pompous blowhard know-it-all. Many critics see only the shadow while struck blind by the figure of the film itself. First off, von Trier is not so much anti-American (although it is certainly hard not to be considering the current socio-ethical conundrum a certain pompous blowhard know-it-all from Texas has gotten us in to) as he is anti-totalitarianism. A visual poet more attuned to Whitman than Spielberg. An anti-establisment auteur. But enough of Mr. von Trier, for he is but the author here, it is Thomas Vinterberg - von Trier's Dogme cohort - who begs our attention as the director.
Staged with the pulchritude of a true Dogme 95 entrepreneur, Dear Wendy lays out the groundwork for what should be - and more oft than not is - artistically visualized manifesto against war in the name of peace (and back again we come to that damned Texan blowhard). Stylish - sometimes a bit too stylish for its own good - Dear Wendy dangles somewhere between Danish moralism and Peckinpah sensuality. Perhaps not a perfect film (nowhere close to the reprobative beauty that was Vinterberg's Festen (The Celebration) or, for that matter, any of von Trier's work) but far better than the thumbdrumming so many American critics recieved it as.
-May 9, 2006
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Derailed (2005, Mikael Håfström, USA): 29
What happens when two talented actors - in this case, Jennifer Aniston and Clive Owen - get tossed into the middle of an impossibly preposterous situation full of enough holes to fill the fucking Albert Hall, and follow that up with the most contrived, conceited, indulgent and manifestly obvious ending to come across cinema screens since Brian DePalma first took up the director's mantle?
You get Derailed, a film - despite its attempt at acting chops (both Aniston and Owen are sorely wasted here) - that tries - for some unknown reason - to be some sort of witty, tangled DePalma-esque thriller (a thing that even DePalma himself has never managed to do). Why we should wait around for the ending - which, even though a supposed twist, we see coming pretty much even before the film begins - when there are multitudes of other entertainments we could be enjoying? The answer is: I have no fucking clue!
Overall, not the worst film of the year (thanks mainly to Owen, who despite absolutely nothing whatsoever to work with, hands in a performance almost worthy of waiting around for) but when a thriller fails to thrill...
-March 25, 2006
Domino (2005, Tony Scott, USA): 46
If there is one thing that can be said of Tony Scott, it is that he loves making movies. Just watch any of them and you can see the love, nee lust, that goes in to each and every production. This is a filmmaker full of passion and excititude over moviemaking. Now if only Mr. Scott would make a movie that was even halfway watchable, his talent could equal his enthusiasms.
Tony Scott, the purveyor of such laughable monkey-managed burlesques as The Hunger, Top Gun, Days of Thunder and last year's fiasco, Man on Fire, here takes the true story of infamous model turned bounty hunter Domino Harvey and twists it into an unrecognizable mess of a movie, full of Mtv-esque visual antics and one ridiculous plot turn after another. Does Mr. Scott - or Domino portrayer, Kiera Knightly (a once talented damsel lost inside a mess of bad career chioces) - know that the real Domino Harvey, who died while this film was being shot and in turn is the dedicatee of the film, was a full blown out-and-about lesbian. Judging from how the sex scenes in the film pan out, I guess not - a surprising omission when taking into account the Jerry Springerness of the filmmaker.
Sure, I suppose a movie on this subject does have a certain poetic license to go wherever the depraved wind may carry it - most notebly into a bizzare reality TV subplot involving a typically quirvey Christopher Walken as a sleazemonger producer with ADD and Ian Ziering and Brian Austin Green as their audaciously has-been 90210 selves - but Scott has gone even farther than one could imagine. But then again, this is Tony Scott we're talking about here - a sleazemonger himself who may or may not have the hidden sensibilities of some sort of twisted Auteur locked away deep inside his schlock jock exterior. But then again, perhaps brother Ridley is more suited toward the Auteur monicker - who knows. What I do know is, Domino comes off as a near ludicrous if not fun for fun's sake kind of joyride full of blatent guffaws of judgement, yet somehow almost alluring. Almost.
-October 23, 2005
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Downfall (2004, Oliver Hirschbiegel, Germany): 65
Maybe it was because I had just watched (the night before) Alexander Sokurov's melancholy metaphysical masterpiece on the inner workings of Adolph Hitler's mind (aka: Moloch), and that was why I couldn't truly enjoy this film as much as everyone else did - but I found it to be overblown and pretentious in its look at Hitler and Eva Braun. Yes, it did show him as a human being instead of the tyrannical madmen we all know (albeit a rather twisted and/or misguided human being that can easily be mistaken for the Anti-Christ), but other than Ganz's performance (and the quite similar, but less surreal take on Eva Braun, that Sokurov's film had) as well as a single chilling scene as Mrs. Goerring methodically and systematically poisons her five children, one by one, as they sleep, Downfall really has nothing going for it. A rather standard take on historical facts and fictions that falls flat too many times in its three hours. A film that breathes deep and low in its methodically confined spaces, it is a film that should be seen, if only for the semi-humanization of such a well-known (and much-deserved) monster.
-March 27, 2005
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The Dukes of Hazzard (2005, Jay Chandrasekhar, USA): 1
You know a movie is bad when you are pining for the acting talents of Tom Wopat, John Schneider and Catherine Bach. Although it comes as no surprise that this film sucked royal ass, but I was at least hoping for some possible laughs from Burt Reynolds (at least some kitschey laughs). Oh well, what did I expect!?
Well, I suppose I have nothing more to say about this obvious dud of a film - not even enough to fill out even a short critique - other than it makes the TV show look like art. Wow !!
-January 3, 2006
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The Dying Gaul (2005, Craig Lucas, USA): 37
One would think that bringing together three of the best damned actors working today - Patricia Clarkson, Peter Sarsgaard, Campbell Scott - would make for a damned fine movie. One would think. But when you place them deep inside of one of the most ludicrously concieved plots in recent years, well, one quickly learns to expect a little less. Full of idiotic plotting and ridiculously motivated character twists, Craig Lucas' directorial debut The Dying Gaul is a far cry from his last screenplay - the insightful, moody, far superior Secret Lives of Dentists. In fact, if it were not for the actors - trying their thespianic damnedest to bring the story to a believable level - The Dying Gaul (to attempt a lame Gene Shalit-esque punnery) would take a dying fall into the abyss of incongruous burlesque. What we end up with is nothing more than an insane plot - which I won't even bother explaining here and now - periodically saved by as-great-as-can-be acting. And it is all thrown together with the incomprehensible praise of critics from all over the nation. C'mon, did I miss something here? Really, tell me. Did I?
-November 13, 2005
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