Monsters University: Pixar's prequel to Monsters, Inc. isn't as good as the studio's masterpieces, but that's a high bar, and it's certainly an enjoyable flick. In this installment, we see the first meeting of eventual best buds and coworkers Mike Wazowski (awkward and brainy, voiced by Billy Crystal), and James P. Sullivan (the imposing, scary-by-G-rating-standards monster, voiced by John Goodman). It turns out they disliked each other intensely at first as classmates at the prestigious Monsters University, where aspiring scarers study the time-honored craft of terrorizing children from the bedroom closet. Mike's earnest and geeky energy doesn't go over well with Sullivan and the cool kids he runs with; he's a legacy admission while Mike's a work-study kid, and Sulley relies on his natural talent as a scarer, is lazy otherwise, and can be something of a jerk. (Meanwhile, Mike can get a wee bit self-righteous.) These high school dynamics transplanted to college are the most tired part of the movie, but at least the performances are good, and thankfully most of the film goes beyond the usual stereotypes. The main plot centers on Mike and Sulley failing a key exam and being kicked out of school; their one chance at regaining admission is to win the annual team Scare Games, which means both need to join Oozma Kappa, the least hip fraternity on campus. The Scare Game challenges are inventive and fun to watch, the secondary characters are interesting, Crystal and Goodman have good chemistry together, and Mike and Sulley reveal nuance and hidden dimensions over the course of the story. Although I hope Pixar doesn't mine its old material too much more (I'm wary about Toy Story 4 rumors), this was an entertaining watch.
Despicable Me 2: Despite the hype, this sequel isn't better than the first film, but I probably enjoyed it the most of the animated features I saw from 2013. This time around, reformed evil genius and archvillain Gru (voiced by Steve Carrell) is trying to make an honest living and be a good adoptive dad to his three daughters. But old habits die hard, and some people just need smiting, a water hose or the ol' stun gun. Plus, even though his minions and partner-in-no-longer-crime Doctor Nefario (Russell Brand) work hard at it, the supposedly wholesome jam they produce is just awful. Gru's hopes are raised when he's contacted by his former adversaries in the Anti-Villain League (AVL) to track down the evil mastermind who stole an important formula. He's recruited by and partnered with Lucy (Kristen Wiig), an occasionally goofy but very sharp agent. Meanwhile, with heavy urging from his daughters and against his own shy, cranky nature, Gru tries his hand at romance – but soon realizes that his date is much less intriguing than Lucy. Besides the irrepressible and always entertaining minions, Despicable Me 2 is fun for adults because Carrell as Gru makes an excellent deadpan curmudgeon and the treacle factor doesn't get too far out of hand. Steve Coogan makes for a drool head of AVL and Benjamin Bratt has a blast as the ridiculously suave Eduardo (it's amazing to learn he was a last-minute replacement for Al Pacino). Pharrell Williams' song, "Happy," written for the film, still seems to be everywhere, and it's pretty catchy.
(Here's Illumination Entertainment studio head Chris Meledandri on The Business about the film.)
Frozen:Frozen is the prettiest of the major animated films of 2013, and has plenty of elements to like, but I was left underwhelmed by Disney's latest effort (inspired by rather than based on Hans Christian Andersen's tale, The Snow Queen). It's an excellent kids' movie (as its box office results attest), but not as persuasive for adults. Kid princesses Elsa and Anna are not only sisters but the best of friends, and have great fun using Elsa's magic ice powers during playtime. But then Elsa accidentally injures Anna, and their parents take Anna to a troll to magically heal her; he also wipes Anna's memory of the incident. The king and queen go into full isolation mode, locking the castle to keep Elsa's powers a secret, and Elsa retreats to her room, ignoring the befuddled Anna's pleas to come out... and this goes on for the next decade or so (compressed into a montage and song, naturally). Even by fairy tale standards, it's awful reasoning and poor parenting. The parents conveniently die at sea, and Anna doesn't see her sister until Elsa's coronation, where Elsa loses her temper and her powers inadvertently erupt. She scares the entire city, which she accidentally ices, and flees into the mountains and builds an ice palace (during a showcase song, of course). Anna goes to seek her sister and end the potentially eternal winter, with the help of new companions Hans (Santino Fontana) and his trusty reindeer, Sven. Kristen Bell is well cast as Anna (she's also a decent singer), bringing some spunk and welcome goofiness to the Disney heroine role. Josh Gad makes for good comic relief as Olaf, a magically-animated snowman. Broadway star Idina Menzel obviously has superb pipes for Elsa, she and Bell play well off each other, and a story with two sisters at the core is a nice, slight change of pace for Disney. The film also tweaks some fairy tale and Disney conventions, and this pays off best in the climatic scene. Some of the other elements seem by-the-numbers, though, or otherwise fall short. The songs have some clever, funny lyrics, but are rather forgettable – you're not liable to be left humming them afterward as with other Disney tunes (apart from "Let It Go," which can be an earworm). The filmmakers allow some moments of audience distress, but rush in pretty quickly to reassure, undercutting their impact. The big showstopper number, "Let It Go," which Menzel belts out as she constructs her ice palace (and gives herself a magical makeover), is visually great and well sung, but feels highly derivative of the "Defying Gravity" scene from Wicked. In both cases, we see a supposed villainess, unjustly feared and scorned by society, delivering a liberation-empowerment anthem as she embraces her true capabilities. It doesn't seem coincidental that Menzel won a Tony for that exact role in Wicked and "Defying Gravity" has become one of her signature songs. Many viewers loved the scene, but while I admired the artistry involved, it felt too unoriginal and calculated for a core element of the film for me to embrace the work as a whole. Your mileage definitely may vary on this one. Frozen has proven immensely popular (there are even sing-alongs), and young girls and their parents especially seem to value it. It's worth a look, but I'd rank other Disney films much higher.
(Here's writer/director Jennifer Lee and songwriter Kristen Anderson-Lopez on The Business and Anderson-Lopez and Robert Lopez on Fresh Air.)
Becoming Traviata: An interesting film for opera buffs and more casual fans of classical music, this French documentary follows French soprano Natalie Dessay as she prepares to play the celebrated role of Violetta in Verdi's enduringly popular La Traviata. Dessay is coaxed along by opera director Jean-François Sivadier, and the fascinating aspect of the film is its lengthy glimpses into the intimate rehearsal process. As Dessay tentatively feels out the part, she'll occasionally cover her anxiety with nervous laughter. Sivadier is supportive throughout, gently prodding her, listening to her ideas, and allowing Dessay and the other performers to play with and explore the material. He knows the piece well, and gradually wins over his more reticent performers. It's particularly striking to see how Dessay moves from hesitant, self-conscious, and obsessing over little details to fully committing. She has to feel her way through the emotional and vocal territory first, but when it's time, she can really bring it. She's a better actress than many an opera singer, and her occasionally ferocious emotional focus fuels her stage performance as well as her vocal one. (Another favorite sequence presents countless shots of Dessay being shown how to do a proper stage collapse and then practicing it over and over again to get it right. Out of such mundane acts is great art sometimes made.) This isn't for everybody. You'll probably enjoy the film more if you've heard or seen the opera at least once, or if you've ever worked on any sort of stage show, but a certain crowd will truly appreciate this one.
The World's End: This is the first Edgar Wright-Simon Pegg-Nick Frost movie I haven't loved, but I was rarely bored. Gary King (Simon Pegg) was the coolest kid in high school, but unfortunately, he peaked then and hasn't grown since. One of his favorite stories from his teen years involves Gary and his four best chums attempting an ambitious pub crawl of all 12 pubs in their small hometown of Newton Haven. It was a wild night, but the gang fell off one by one along the way, and even Gary succumbed three pubs short. Desperate to reignite a spark in his life (or just relive his glory days), middle-aged Gary visits his old friends to recruit them in another attempt. But they've all moved on in their lives, and at least one of them, Andy Knightley (Nick Frost), holds a strong grudge against Gary. (Why specifically isn't revealed until much later, but given Gary's nature, we have no difficulty believing the grudge is justified.) Regardless, Gary manages to beg, plead, bribe and guilt them into joining him, and away they go, in Gary's limping high school car no less, nicknamed "the Beast." The first section of the film is a warm look at friendships and growing older, and how the latter affects the former. Pegg and Frost have great chemistry as usual, and all the key cast (Martin Freeman, Eddie Marsan and Paddy Considine) play off each very naturally as old chums. (Rosamund Pike is also memorable as Freeman's sister – among other things, her scenes show that Gary's teenage moves on the ladies have not aged well.) Pegg's vocal work alone is entertaining, as he spouts off long, hyperverbal speeches full of tonal shifts in his mellifluous baritone. The film possesses a more serious undertone than the others from this team that emerges from Gary and Andy's confrontations. Meanwhile, there's a wild plot twist that occurs a third to a halfway in that significantly changes the movie. The resulting scenes are well-staged and entertaining (although a climatic scene drags on too long). Still, I was honestly enjoying the first film, a comedy with a serious side about aging pals, more than the second film it became; elements of the first film persist into the second one, but I didn't need that other stuff in this particular movie. All that said, it's still well worth seeing if you've enjoyed this team's films in the past.
The Wolf of Wall Street: It's Scorsese, so it's worth a look, but it feels like we've seen it before because we have. The structure is essentially the same as Goodfellas and Casino – the rise and fall of a charismatic semi-villain with some redeeming qualities. All three films are based on real people, and in this case, we're following Jordan Belfort, a slick (and slimy) stockbroker. The odd thing is, although they beat up and even kill people, the gangsters in those earlier Scorsese films are actually more likable (and in their own way, more honorable) than the dishonest day traders in The Wolf of Wall Street whose customers are actually their marks. At three hours, the film's also way too long, mostly because it's so predictable, but also because Scorsese rarely gets out early on a scene (apparently, he allowed the actors to improvise at the end of each scene, and while they're believable and clearly having fun, it gets awfully repetitive). Leonardo DiCaprio does a solid job as Belfort, and Jonah Hill is great as his best bud and partner in crime, Donnie. An extended sequence involving drugs is utterly hilarious and probably the funniest of 2013 (you'll know it when you see it). But even the scenes of debauchery and excess (drugs, sex, extravagant purchases) get a little monotonous. When Jordan starts fighting with his gorgeous trophy wife, Naomi (Margot Robbie, best known in the States from the short-lived series Pan Am), it's hard to take his protestations of devotion to their child seriously. It plays more like narcissism and sheer possessiveness, and perhaps that's the intent, but regardless, it underscores that Jordan is pretty unlikeable (apparently, the real Belfort had even less redeeming qualities). More to the point, he becomes less and less fun to watch.
Some critics have attacked Scorsese and DiCaprio for glorifying Jordan Belfort and his predatory profession, and that's somewhat fair, but Scorsese deliberately undercuts that response on several occasions. In two scenes (both involving cars, actually), he explicitly establishes that Jordan is an unreliable narrator. Late in the movie, Scorsese essentially turns his camera on the audience to examine those hopeful, desperate souls who should know better but are still gullible enough to be attracted to Jordan Belfort and his snake oil. There's also the issue of varying audience reactions – personally, while watching one of the many "gleeful theft of someone's savings" scenes, my reaction was horror – these are the people our establishment idolizes and thinks should run our financial system? (To be fair, much of what Jordan & Co. was doing was illegal, and thus not officially condoned by the American system, but there's little question that the greed-is-good mentality is worshipped and the reckless capitalism model rules.) Naturally, not every Scorsese film can rise to the level of his best, but the pacing in particular falls noticeably below that of his other journeyman entries. Joanna Lumley, Jean DuJardin and Matthew McConaughey are good in supporting roles.
Philomena: Stephen Frears' latest film is based on the true story of Philomena Lee (played by Judi Dench), who as a teenaged, unwed mother was forced by nuns to give up her son for adoption 50 years previously. Philomena's daughter approaches disgraced journalist Martin Sixsmith (Steve Coogan) at a party to pitch the idea of helping her mother track down "Anthony." Dench and Coogan make a good odd couple, and although Coogan is primarily known for his comic acting, he does a strong job here. Martin is more the realist than Philomena, but he's also more bitter given what he sees as his unjustified ouster from a good gig and feels he's slumming it with this human interest piece. On top of that, he doesn't have fond memories of his Catholic upbringing, is not a religious believer, and can't understand why, on occasion, he's angrier than Philomena about the treatment she's received. Judi Dench is naturally fantastic, and the character of Philomena gives her a wide emotional range to play. She and Coogan have a great, light feel for the comedic scenes but can also bring the fire. (Dench is particularly powerful and affecting in a scene discussing forgiveness.) A couple of criticisms: The home movie footage of Anthony at different ages, intercut throughout the movie, becomes a bit overdone. Meanwhile, there's a scene where Philomena shows she's hip-to-the-lingo that feels forced, an attempted crowd-pleaser that strains plausibility a bit too far for the character. Still, these are minor points. This is a very solid piece and a human story versus spectacle; fans of Frears, Dench or Coogan will want to catch it. (D.C. moment: The Folger Shakespeare Library with its bas-reliefs is seen from the side, standing in for a government office.)
August: Osage County: The big-screen version of Tracy Letts' Tony-award-winning play about a dysfunctional family gathering boasts a famous cast trading verbal (and sometimes physical) blows. As you'd expect, there's some good acting, but the humor tends to be dark and bitter, and not everyone will want to spend time with these people. Letts adapted his own play with few changes apart from changing locations and opening up the physical space. He does a good job of structuring his reveals as to when a particular family skeleton will slide out. He occasionally achieves some shock value, but admirably moves beyond that to shift power dynamics and explore a deeper side of characters and their relationships. (The best of the characters show considerable range.) Likewise, the best of the dialogue crackles and has a natural flow, but I wish Letts had reworked the more stagey speeches. Other moments unfortunately feel stiff, forced or self-conscious, with some of that Grey's Anatomy here-comes-the-big-speech eagerness for emoting (at least there's no indie song playing underneath it all here). For instance, despite their separation, Bill (Ewan MacGregor, always a welcome addition) has come to support his wife, Barbara (Julia Roberts) during a difficult time. They're occasionally kind to one other, but more often Barbara needles him (with some cause, as we find out). At one point, Bill (a professor) says, "You’re thoughtful, Barbara, but you’re not open. You’re passionate, but you’re hard. You’re a good, decent, funny, wonderful woman, and I love you, but you’re a pain in the ass." It sounds awfully rehearsed, preplanned, and artificial – self-consciously quotable. MacGregor sells it as best he can, and it could have worked given the characters if Barbara had called him on it, on how long it took him to compose it or how long he'd been saving it up, but she doesn't. Similarly, Chris Cooper as Barbara's uncle Charlie delivers a big speech to his wife Mattie Fae (the fiery, fantastic Margo Martindale), and it likewise ends with self-consciously composed lines (although Cooper is so natural and grounded it still works pretty well). The best monologue occurs on a nighttime porch, a childhood story about boots told by Meryl Streep as drug-addicted matriarch Violet Weston to her three daughters. Streep works it beautifully as you'd expect, exploring all its nuances, and wisely chooses deep waters under restraint versus chewing-the-scenery. Violet and Barbara rip into each other the most often, and this is the best Julia Roberts has been since Erin Brockovich. I was less impressed than I usually am by Benedict Cumberbatch (as the neurotic Little Charles), but Julianne Nicholson was awfully good as middle sister Ivy. (Sam Shepherd doesn't have much screen time, but he's great, as always.) If you're a fan of the actors, it's probably worth a look. (I do wonder if a better director could have worked with Letts more and delivered a stronger film. I'm not a fan of director John Wells, who when producing TV shows tends to go for shock value over earned drama, killing or maiming characters to goose ratings and make "Don't miss!" promos, or having close friends experience implausible blowouts so they can have a tearful makeup later.)
Hannah Arendt: Credit the film Hannah Arendt with ambition, opening with a sequence of the protagonist thinking, and trying to make a movie about intellectual disputes. It's not entirely successful, and the film suffers significantly for viewers who aren't already familiar with Hannah Arendt's work and the controversy ignited by her reports (originally published in The New Yorker) on the trial of Nazi war criminal Adolf Eichmann in Jerusalem in 1961. As it is, we only really receive Arendt's full thesis in a climatic lecture scene, so that the start of a deeper discussion is simultaneously its final word. Structurally, the film would have been stronger if Arendt articulated her point of view more clearly early on, experienced pushback, we had more back and forth, and then she got the last say. Director Margarethe von Trotta tries to do something like that, but the actual arguments are often elided, so that as an audience we're denied the context to fairly judge the disputes we're seeing (more so if one hasn't read Arendt's book). I'm sympathetic to a point, since talking heads often aren't the most cinematic, but some films and filmmakers (Bergman, Rohmer, Fincher's Zodiac) have done it quite well. Meanwhile, some of the existing scenes are highly dramatic, as when Arendt compares a request that she self-censor to Nazi book-burning. Alas, not every scene is equally successful, despite a superb performance by Barbara Sukowa as Arendt. Arendt's views are highly nuanced and she has a sardonic wit; her views are not welcomed (and she would argue, not always understood) by an audience with painfully raw memories of the Holocaust. In particular, she's seen as putting too much blame on Jewish collaborators, and her condemnation of Eichmann as a man lacking imagination and thought, rather than being a traditional, consciously "evil" man, is seen as excusing in some small way his role in the monstrous genocide that was the Holocaust. Arendt remains a controversial figure, with few doubting her intellect but some charging that her personal arrogance and snobbery colored her conclusions on Eichmann too much. How one views the film will naturally be shaped by how acquainted one is with Arendt's work and one's judgement of it. Personally, I feel some of the criticism of Arendt is warranted when it comes to her personal failings and professional blind spots and also because, even in her follow-ups, she did not fully explain her provocative thesis about "the banality of evil," thereby leaving too much room for misinterpretation (even though some would have been inevitable). All that said, I'd contend she was a true intellectual and brilliant woman, and Eichmann in Jerusalem is one of the great nonfiction books of the 20th century. It is not sufficient to read in isolation to understand the Holocaust, nor are all of her conclusions unimpeachable, but at the very least, her insights and conclusions start a provocative and essential conversation about the true nature of evil and the Nazi regime in particular. Similarly, Hannah Arendt the film is a useful supplement to that debate and the debate over Arendt herself, but doesn't fully stand on its own.
The Invisible Woman: Ralph Fiennes' second directorial effort is a handsomely shot, well-acted piece, but like the relationship it depicts between Charles Dickens (Fiennes) and Nelly Ternan (Felicity Jones), it's a restrained, slow-moving affair. The film does a good job of capturing Dickens' enthusiastic, playful personality and his uneasy relationship with fame – sometimes he craves the public's acclaim, but sometimes feels overwhelmed by its demands (as in a striking scene where he is enveloped by a vast and growing crowd seeking to shake his hand). Dickens' relationship with his wife is respectful but any romance has grown cold, and his eyes fall upon Nelly, an intelligent young actress and devoted reader of his works. Dickens' affection for her becomes clear and a source of gossip, while her feelings are more conflicted (as are those of her mother, played by Kristin Scott Thomas), further complicated by the potential for scandal but also Dickens' very real ability to take care of Nelly and her entire family. The mores of the Victorian era forbid divorce, even if Dickens' prestige grants him some license, but Nelly is well aware that he can take more social risks than she can as a woman. The Invisible Woman is based on the speculative book of the same name (Dickens and Ternan burnt their correspondence in real life, and the exact nature of their relationship is unclear). The film winds up being an above-average but not overwhelming entry in the Masterpiece Theatre genre. It's always fun to watch the versatile Fiennes, whose eyes do tremendous work here, betraying warmth, eagerness, apprehension and disappointment in small glances. Jones does a nice job playing warring emotions, often under restraint by necessity, and this results in several fine short speeches (it's the best work I've seen from her to date). Kristin Scott Thomas and the rest of the cast are strong as well; if there's one thing this team understands, it's how to perform subtext. Fans of the actors or Dickens will want to check this out. (I hadn't known that Dickens wrote and performed in so many amateur plays.) I liked this film, but still prefer Fiennes' superb and vastly overlooked directorial debut, Coriolanus (the third film reviewed here).
The Secret Life of Walter Mitty: James Thurber's justly famous, wonderful short story about a beleaguered man who escapes into a rich fantasy life runs less than ten pages, so writer-star Ben Stiller invents and expands a great deal for his feature film. Should he have left Thurber alone and called the film something else? Perhaps, but the original story remains intact and readily available, and Stiller's efforts feel respectful. In this film, Walter Mitty is a photo editor at Life magazine, which is going to publish its last issue. He's secretly smitten with his coworker Cheryl (Kristen Wiig, who's good as usual), and tormented by the company's hatchet man (Adam Scott, who makes a surprising good slimeball in a nice change from his Parks and Recreation character). The negative for an important photo from maverick, genius photographer Sean O'Connell (Sean Penn) has gone missing, and Walter is under fire. In desperation, to impress Cheryl and most of all to prove something to himself, he sets out to track down the elusive O'Connell for answers. Naturally, this takes him on a series of adventures that will change him forever, and at few points it's not clear whether we're witnessing more fantasy or new, real bravado. I wasn't blown away by this film, but it's enjoyable enough. Stiller plays beaten-down, repressed characters well, but crucially, he also credibly sells Walter's gradual transformation. Wiig gives Cheryl some breadth and humanity, and makes her more than some one-dimensional, unobtainable love object. Sean Penn is effortlessly convincing as the fiercely independent, philosophical O'Connell. Trailers can be misleading, but the main one for this film (with almost no dialogue) is superb as a standalone piece.
Saving Mr. Banks: Disney's movie about the making of one of its most famous movies, Mary Poppins, centers on Walt Disney (Tom Hanks) trying everything he can to convince the book's prickly, demanding author, P.L. Travers (Emma Thompson), to sign him the film rights. She's fiercely protective of her book and the character Mary Poppins, but could really use the money (her tastes exceed her income). At times the project feels rather self-serving by the Disney studio, but the film is thankfully less treacly than its trailer. Walt Disney as played by Tom Hanks is depicted as one heck of a guy, with few flaws, but Hanks attacks the role with relish and turns on his considerable charm as Walt tries to woo Travers. Thompson is even better, giving Travers a certain style to her curmudgeonly, autocratic ways and frequently ridiculous demands. (By all accounts, Travers as played by Thompson is much more likable than the real woman was.) Meanwhile, the supporting cast is superb. Bradley Whitford is a glad-handing studio exec who rubs Travers the wrong way and Paul Giamatti is her humble studio driver (who slowly wins her over). B.J. Novak and Jason Schwartzman play the Sherman brothers, the chipper, inventive team who wrote the memorable songs for Mary Poppins (and who occasionally have their patience exceeded by Travers' demands). In flashback, Colin Farrell plays Travers' father as a man of great love and dreams but also tragic demons. (Ruth Wilson and Rachel Griffiths are solid in flashback roles as well.) Saving Mr. Banks has been fairly criticized for promoting an overly rosy version of Walt Disney and especially Travers, and as a true-to-life account should be taken with multiple grains of salt. However, the film has its merits in terms of craft and performances. (It also tends to make audiences want to watch Mary Poppins again, as intended.)
The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug: Once again, the film is too damn long and ridiculously padded, The Hobbit should not have made into three films, and it shouldn't have been made into an extended prequel for The Lord of the Rings. That said, it has some good moments. Smaug "the Magnificent" is just that, possibly the most impressive, menacing dragon rendered on screen to date (certainly he makes the short list). Martin Freeman remains superbly cast as the humble, brave and inventive Bilbo Baggins, and it's interesting to see him interact with Benedict Cumberbatch as Smaug (all the more so given the actors' chemistry on Sherlock). Ian McKellan is excellent returning as Gandalf, of course. Although it's annoying that director-writer-producer Peter Jackson invented and expanded characters, he's at least cast them well with Stephen Fry and the already elfin-looking Evangeline Lilly. Likewise, Luke Evans does a nice job as Bard. (I assume most people have read the book, but if not, what follows might contain slight spoilers.) The extended battle/romp through Smaug's chamber is mostly pointless, and given the bloat invented for the story, cutting genuinely good bits from the source material is all the more disappointing. Jackson jettisoned the introduction from the book of the dwarves to the character Beorn – Tolkien's chapter is tightly written, funny and introduces all of the dwarves (in twos and threes), something the film series has yet to do properly (apart from Thorin, Balin, Fili and Bombur). Jackson opts for some menace with the Beorn encounter instead, but there's plenty of that elsewhere; it's a lost opportunity that throws away clever groundwork and a nice shift in tone. Other alterations work better. The extended barrel ride sequence, while thoroughly ridiculous, is great fun. The "black arrow" of the book makes much more sense as depicted. The effect of the ring on Bilbo during the effectively creepy spider scene is inspired, very much in the spirit of Tolkien. The same goes for a scene involving the eye of Sauron. These feel like Jackson and the team adeptly filling in some details in a great, beloved tale, whereas at other times the book is treated as just raw material (in marked contrast to the film series The Lord of the Rings). Adjust your expectations accordingly. (For LOTR, I was nervous going into the first film, then hotly anticipated the release of the second and third films, but for each Hobbit film, my reaction has been, ehh, okay, I'll schedule it in somewhere.)
Don Jon: Joseph Gordon-Levitt's writing and directing debut stars himself as a modern-day Don Juan. Jon is extremely successful at bedding women, but he's also deeply porn-addicted, and as he explains to the audience in voiceovers, even real sex with an attractive woman can't measure up to the fantasy heights he gets from porn. Then his head is turned one night at a club by the sexy Barbara (Scarlett Johansson). He sets out to track her down and woo her, and she in turn demands that he change major elements of his life – going back to school, hiring a maid rather than cleaning his apartment himself (which she views as degrading), and never using porn again. At night school, Jon runs into an offbeat but intriguing woman, Ester (Julianne Moore), and they gradually develop a friendship, although he's not always comfortable with her grilling him about intimacy versus sexual satisfaction. The movie features good performances and some funny scenes, but what makes Don Jon interesting is that it deviates from strict predictability. We've seen the man-child-reformed-by-a-woman movie many times before, and Don Jon does tap into that, but then moves in some less expected directions, particularly in Jon's relationships with both Barbara and Ester. Be warned that this movie is definitely rated R, related to Jon's viewing habits. (It's also a short flick, clocking in at a mere 90 minutes.)
Man of Steel: Seven years after Bryan Singer's lackluster Superman film (the 22nd film reviewed here), Zach Snyder takes a crack at the character, with mixed results – its best moments are quite good, but its flubs are notable. Moreover, they're deliberately-chosen misfires, key moments in the film that must have been discussed at length. The good: Russell Crowe as troubled genius Jor-El and the elaborate, pulp sci-fi world of Krypton; Michael Shannon as ruthless, unrelenting chief villain General Zod; Kevin Costner and Diane Lane as Superman's adoptive parents, the infallibly decent Kents; and Amy Adams as plucky, resourceful reporter Lois Lane. (Kate Bosworth has been decent in other roles, but was painfully miscast as Lois Lane in Singer's movie; Bosworth to Adams is the biggest acting upgrade I can think of in a decade.) Laurence Fishburne as news chief Perry White, Christopher Meloni as a colonel and Richard Schiff as a government scientist are solid in supporting roles. The bad: More of the "Space Jesus" iconography of Singer's film (and it's often lingered on excessively), a head-scratching key plot point seen in flashback, and a climatic plot point that betrays the fundamental nature of the Superman character. (It seems the filmmakers chose momentary shock over a more organic and meaningful climax. I was surprised that Christopher Nolan and David S. Goyer developed the story, given their superb work on the Batman series. But more discussion in the spoiler section.) Zach Snyder is known as a "shooter" and not much of an actor's director, but he's generally smart enough to stay out of his actors' way and does know how to string together some flashy images and stage a good action scene. British actor Henry Cavill certainly looks the part of Superman/Kal-El, and conveys the sense of reluctant hero well. It's understandable the filmmakers toned down the bright colors of the original superhero suit and ditched the red swim trunks, but the blue of the suit is so dark, in some shots it borders on black. This darkness goes far beyond costume choices; although the modern Batman has long been dark and brooding, that tone has never really fit Superman, and Man of Steel doesn't make a convincing case otherwise. One of the key moments in Superman II is the villains realizing that Superman cares about "the humans" and will fight to save them at his peril. There are similar moments in Man of Steel, but also colossal and seemingly casual property destruction that's impressive in the blow-er-up-real-good spectacle sense but feels awfully odd from a story-character perspective. I've never been a huge fan of Superman, mainly because in most tellings his might so far outstrips the competition the stakes are too low. Here at least he had super-powered foes (as in Superman II). This was a pretty good filmmaking team, and I wanted to like the resulting movie much more than I did.
(SPOILERS)
Some of the best scenes in the movie are Costner counseling restraint and patience to the upset young Kal-El/Clark. Still, Jonathan Kent's death seemed strikingly unnecessary. I think Costner sells it somewhat, in that Pa Kent might have sincerely believed otherwise, but why not let the demigod go back to save the dog? Isn't the chaos of a tornado more than adequate to cover up any display of superpowers? As the io9 recap put it from Clark to Pa, "Look, I can’t help but feel we have a lot of solid options here that can save your life and preserve my secret simultaneously." As for Superman killing Zod, the filmmakers certainly push the notion that this is a measure of last resort that torments Superman, but Superman just doesn't kill. This isn't an arbitrary decision; it cuts to the heart of the character explored so well in those aforementioned childhood scenes. In some tellings, Superman can be a bit of an overgrown boy scout, but regardless, his immense powers mean both that he simply doesn't have to kill to triumph and that he must show colossal restraint. Case in point, as Lance Mannion points out, Superman can fly, giving him an obvious alternative to breaking Zod's neck. Thus, the moment depends on Superman forgetting this (after flying around a great deal minutes before) but more importantly, it "depends on director Zack Snyder and screenwriter David S. Goyer betting that the audience won’t remember Superman can fly." In my book, both deaths are deliberately-chosen misfires.
Thor: The Dark World: The sequel to the surprisingly good first Thor movie (the 16th film reviewed here) is solid but not overwhelming. Predictably, the best scenes are those between close-but-feuding brothers Thor (Chris Hemsworth) and Loki (Tom Hiddleston). The actors have good chemistry, and the best, extended sequence evokes the classic Norse myths of the two gods uneasily teaming up, the mighty warrior and scheming trickster. Unfortunately, the film limits their time together, and we get three other storylines: Save the worlds against the dark elves led by Malekith (played with self-assured menace by Christopher Eccleston), a love story of reunion between Thor and Jane Foster (Natalie Portman), and the question of succession to the Asgardian throne and the approval of Thor's father, Odin (Anthony Hopkins). More Thor and Loki and less visual effect spectacle would have been nice, but the first film had the same flaw and it's a common one for summer blockbusters. At least the scenes of cataclysm and the signature fights are pretty well staged. As Jane, Portman has some good scenes, but the "quote them in the trailer" moments feel a bit forced. Stellan Skarsgård is a welcome return as scientist Erik Selvig, temporarily driven more than a bit loopy. As gal sidekick Darcy, Kat Dennings delivers her wisecracks well, but is less convincing at sincere moments. Meanwhile, Odin acts less like the wise, all-knowing all-father and more like the powerful but tempestuous Zeus. (Also, it felt off to have Asgardians fighting spacecraft so often; it's a genre clash that doesn't quite work.) I thought the film was worth a look just for Hiddleston and Hemsworth, but the best of the Marvel films (and superhero and comic book films in general) keep a firmer eye on the human (or deity) dynamics.
The Wolverine: The second solo Wolverine film is much more satisfying than the first one (the 13th film reviewed here), although its plot doesn’t hold up well to sustained scrutiny. As a few critics have noted, the better superhero movies have been using the comic books as a development lab and have adopted some of the best elements while making changes. In this case, the mining comes from some of Wolverine's best adventures, from the 80s in Japan. In flashback, we see that Logan/Wolverine (Hugh Jackman) was in Nagasaki when the bomb dropped and saved the life of Yashida, a Japanese officer. In the present, Logan's drinking away his troubles – horrible nightmares of killing a woman he loved, Jean Grey (Famke Janssen). He's tracked down by the hunter-warrior Yukio (Rila Fukushima) on behalf of Yashida, who's a corporate bigwig in Japan but also elderly and dying. Yashida's attended by his loyal and kind granddaughter Mariko (Tao Okamoto), brusque son Shigen (Hiroyuki Sanada) and mysterious Dr. Green (Svetlana Khodchenkova). Yashida offers to take away Logan's "curse" – his healing ability – thus allowing him to die, and perhaps saving Yashida's life. Logan understandably declines, has a disturbing dream involving Dr. Green (who's an attractive blonde woman, of course), Yashida dies, later on there's a battle – and Logan discovers to his shock that his healing factor no longer works. Most of the film is Logan on the lam, aided by Mariko and Yukio, trying to escape pursuit and to hunt down someone who can tell him what happened and restore his healing. Hugh Jackman remains the centerpiece here, a good actor who captures the character's gritty honor and has the physique and physicality to sell all the action. He's also convincing depicting Logan's growing affection for Mariko and fear of hurting her (when he has a nightmare, he tends to pop his claws, which can be lethal). A few problems – director James Mangold makes sure to show us when Logan's healing factor is working and not working, but goes overboard on this. More to the point, although Logan can heal from most wounds, he still feels pain, and tries to avoid getting tagged in the first place – occasionally Mangold has Logan just standing there, taking the punishment, seemingly unfazed. (This also makes battles pretty one-sided and less suspenseful when the healing factor is working.) Another quibble – it's not unusual that a Hollywood film would have Japanese characters speaking English versus Japanese some of the time, but it's bizarre that they will speak Japanese while in the presence of foreigners yet switch to English when alone. (It pulled me out.) The PG-13 rating apparently mandated that shredding people with claws results in virtually no blood. (It's more amusing than troubling.) Lastly, the villain's master plot doesn't make a great deal of sense in the end. (The io9 spoiler FAQ covers most of plot oddities.) If you like Jackman or the character, it's worth a look.
Iron Man 3: Robert Downey suits up again as Tony Stark/Iron Man, and once again it's worth going along just for him, even if the overall film is sillier than its predecessors, despite some dark undertones. (The cowriter-director is Shane Black, who directed Downey in the fun Kiss Kiss Bang Bang.) This time around, Tony Stark's internal struggle is post-traumatic stress disorder from the giant alien battle depicted in The Avengers. Never the touchy-feely, talk-it-out type, Stark becomes even more obsessive and rash in response to this distress, straining his relationship with Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow) and others, most notably James "Rhodey" Rhodes (Don Cheadle) and sidekick Happy Hogan (Jon Favreau, who also directed the first two movies). The external menace is fanatical, ruthless, international terrorist the Mandarin (Ben Kingsley). Meanwhile, an old flame and colleague returns, Maya Hansen (Rebecca Hall) – years ago she was developing Extremis, a technique to regenerate tissue, including lost limbs, and claims she's made progress. She's now working for slick tech entrepreneur Aldrich Killian (Guy Pearce), a potential ally or rival to Stark; Stark humiliated him years ago during his rampant dick period. Black has an ear for clever dialogue, and Downey can certainly deliver it. The action scenes are also solid. Black can get a little too cute and self-indulgent at times, but he does know how to deliver a fun ride. A major plot twist earned mixed audience reactions; it's inventive and entertaining (and masks a serious subtext), but it also violates Iron Man canon and significantly changes the tone. (More below.) The first film is still the best, but they've all been of respectable quality. If you've seen the first two and liked them, you might as well catch this one, too. (SPOILERS)
Given the Mandarin's origins as a stereotypical, somewhat racist "yellow peril" villain, it's not surprising that the filmmakers reworked him. I wasn't entirely sold on the radical tonal shift in the movie, but Kingsley's great fun to watch. He gets to strut his considerable range, becoming genuinely menacing in the terrorism scenes and using his growling voice to pointed effect, and then deflating into a hilariously addled, anodyne, hedonistic goofball. This "fake panic" storyline makes for a good plot twist and is surprisingly political for a summer blockbuster (some conservatives objected to what they saw as the film's "message"). I also had mixed feelings about the "More ninjas!" climax, with the stakes increased by multiple iron man suits storming to the rescue – where do you go from there? The filmmakers are smart enough to address the obvious question – why wouldn't Tony Stark pull the same trick again in the future? But it's slightly implausible that he would destroy them all. Likewise, the "let's whip up a serum to cure you, Pepper, now that you've finished your crowd-pleasing, girl power, whip-ass scene" bit strains some credulity – suddenly it's that easy, when other characters (not dating the hero) were dying before? And if it's that easy, wouldn't it be possible to "cure" her yet let her retain her powers? Or if someone could acquire superpowers briefly and then drop them because of medical peril, why wouldn't it possible to flip-flop as needed? Wouldn't a superpower-nuclear meltdown management plan be feasible in consultation with one's doctor? Ah well; we're not supposed to think of such things. We'll see where the franchise goes from here, but three decent films ain't bad.
World War Z: The movie bears almost no resemblance to the book, apart from the worldwide zombie outbreak and a few other elements. The best adaptation approach would have been a miniseries using the book's episodic but effective interview format to build an overall picture. That said, World War Z manages to be pretty solid and creepy for a mainstream horror movie, and wound up being immensely successful financially. (Credit, too, must be given to the filmmakers for scrapping a filmed, expensive, final battle and reshooting a quieter, more character-driven climax.) Brad Pitt makes a likable leading man, in this case reluctant hero scientist Gerry Lane, drafted by the top brass into discovering how the zombie outbreak started and how they can stop it. In exchange for keeping his family safe, he suits up, going into some very unnerving situations, with two of the most memorable both involving planes. Director Marc Forster has always had a good feel for performances, and has developed a decent command of spectacle and suspense as well. The final half hour or so isn't groundbreaking, but it doesn't need to be – at its best, it's deliciously tense. One of my complaints is that the zombie infection – from bite to turning – takes effect waaaaay too fast. Although the film didn't need to go the traditional "several days" or even "a few hours" route, delivering instant, fast zombies (just add plague!) massively throws off the power dynamics, similar to the Will Smith version of I Am Legend. I went in with low expectations and thought this was a decent summer popcorn movie.
Side Effects: Even the uneven Steven Soderbergh films generally feature a few interesting elements, and he's got a decent cast here: Jude Law, Rooney Mara, Channing Tatum, and Catherine Zeta-Jones. The "side effects" of the title come from a drug prescribed by psychiatrist Jonathan Banks (Law) to Emily (Mara), the troubled wife of a Wall Street, white-collar criminal recently released from jail (Tatum). It's hard to say much more without giving away key plot points. Basically, this a puzzle movie designed to keep up guessing, and for the most part it succeeds at keeping us engaged, making us ask questions, flirting with some red herrings, pulling some clever reversals and pushing us to reevaluate the characters. That's harder to pull off than it looks. My one complaint is that the filmmakers decide to go one or two twists too far, the unfortunately common temptation of such movies.
Ender's Game: Orson Scott Card's Nebula and Hugo award-winning science fiction novel finally hits the big screen. (I've read the book twice, but it's been a while.) The film gets the most important element right by casting the superb Asa Butterfield as young, scrawny genius Ender Wiggin, who's recruited for Earth's Battle School. The planet needs a new breed of young heroes to fight an alien menace that threatens the existence of the human race. From Ender's fear to his determination, his competitiveness to his despair, Butterfield nails it throughout, and makes several key moments genuinely affecting (even if you know what's coming). Hailee Steinfeld as Ender's classmate Petra and Abigail Breslin as his sister Valentine are other standouts among a very solid roster of kid actors. I was wary of director Gavin Hood's involvement given his occasionally dreadful (and unintentionally comic) Wolverine flick (I still need to see Tsotsi, with its child actors), but give him credit for coaxing good performances from his young charges and delivering a visually impressive and narratively coherent big battle. Ben Kingsley and Viola Davis are the standouts among the adult actors, while Harrison Ford does his gruff, tough-love father figure thing effectively enough as Colonel Graff. The film's biggest flaw is that it rushes the central internal storyline so much it falls apart at times. Graff believes Ender is too compliant and authority-dependent, and tries to set up situations so that he'll be ostracized and bullied, to toughen him up, old-school style. This external storyline, with its clear plot points, is adapted capably enough. However, Ender's internal arc is criminally rushed, especially given the movie's mere 114 minute run time. In the book, Ender is smart and inventive, but initially tends to be innovative within the rules of the game he's given. It takes him time and multiple attempts before he's frustrated enough to break the rules outright and make moves that surprise even himself a bit. This bildungsroman tale is the core of the original story, and interweaves skillfully with the external plot. A stronger script would have broken this internal arc into at least three scenes, and played them off Ender's frustrations and victories in the school's Battle Room and barracks. Instead, it's all condensed into a single scene, and makes Ender seem less harried genius than (briefly) sociopath. Cuts and changes to the source material were inevitable (the Earth blogging subplot with Valentine and Peter was predictably ditched), but botching Ender's growth severely hurts the movie. Merely breaking up the "Mind Game" scenes and adding a Battle Room montage would have resulted in a significantly better film. (I think this fumble is why viewers who haven't read the book have wondered aloud why the novel caused such a fuss.) That said, I thought the movie's climax was both visually spectacular and emotionally satisfying, as was the aftermath. I'd be interested to see the deleted scenes and extras for this one.
Oblivion: Pretty and derivative, Oblivion is smart enough to rip off some decent material, at least, and director Joseph Kosinski (Tron: Legacy) has a visual flair. The rough plot: Earth is largely uninhabited due to a cataclysmic war, and Jack (Tom Cruise) and Victoria (Andrea Riseborough) are a team overseeing harvesters collecting massive amounts of water from Earth's oceans for off-world colonies. They need to protect the harvesters and military drones from a resistance trying to sabotage them. Needless to say, all is not as it seems, and revelations abound. You'll likely see some of the twists coming, but Cruise and the other actors ground the story enough in plausible human emotion – how would you react in this situation? – that it never feels solely like a "puzzle" movie. The film works fairly well on its own terms during a viewing, but afterward you're likely to question several elements. (Was it really necessary to go to those complex lengths if you just wanted to do that? Etcetera.) Cruise is pretty good here, Andrea Riseborough is impressive, vulnerable and touching as Victoria, Morgan Freeman is reliable as always playing the wry, paternal Morgan Freeman role, and Melissa Leo delivers an excellent performance whose nuance becomes more apparent with time. The movie's a decent but unexceptional diversion.
Star Trek: Into Darkness: The first installment in the Star Trek series reboot was excellent overall (it's the 11th film reviewed here), so it's disappointing but not surprising that the second film would be decent but markedly weaker. The relationships between the chief crew members remain a strength, particularly those between Kirk (Chris Pine), Spock (Zachary Quinto) and Uhura (Zoe Saldana). Benedict Cumberbatch makes a fantastic chief villain, and the film boasts some effective scenes of menace and action. Bruce Greenwood is a welcome return as Captain Pike and Peter Weller a welcome addition as Admiral Marcus. The film does delve into the nature of fear and the proper political (or military) response to it, especially vis-à-vis evidence or the lack thereof. Other than that, the film is often a remix of Star Trek's greatest hits (from one film in particular), especially in its final stretch. These choices may delight (or possibly infuriate) long-time fans, but also feel disappointingly unoriginal. I'll admit at least one made me chuckle, but on a meta level, and that's a bit problematic since I believe that was precisely the filmmakers' intent – that we should smile at this moment as fans even though narratively, it's a moment of despair and increased tension. (You'll know what moment I'm taking about, Trekkers.) Relatedly, this means another key, remixed moment, so pivotal and memorable in the source film, is robbed of its impact because we immediately start thinking about how its aftermath will play out in this new version. (Also, that aftermath raises a host of other questions.) Meanwhile, although I still think Chris Pine makes an excellent Kirk overall, able to handle the comedic touches as well the dramatic scenes, he's painfully outclassed as an actor in a key confrontation with Cumberbatch (and that's not entirely intentional, despite a preceding scene). I'm hoping the new Trek team finds the right approach for the third film in the rebooted series.
Mud: Despite some lousy ads, this film from writer-director Jeff Nichols makes a good character study of Mud (Matthew McConaughey) and coming-of-age story for 14-year-old Ellis (Tye Sheridan) and Neckbone (Jacob Lofland). It's the summer in Arkansas, Ellis and Neckbone are on the poorer end of the spectrum, and they're looking for something to do. They discover a boat somehow stuck in a tree on a small island in the river. Along with the boat, they discover Mud, a charismatic if odd and superstitious figure who promises they can have the boat (he's been living in it) in exchange for their help (especially food). Eventually, he tells them he's hiding out because he killed the man who injured his ex-girlfriend and great love, Juniper (Reese Witherspoon). Now Mud's being pursued by both the cops and a murderous posse made up of the man's family and hired guns. The boys know the other adults in their lives won't approve of their friendship with Mud, but he comes off as a honorable outlaw and the lure of the forbidden is powerful, especially given the romantic appeal of Mud's couple-against-the-world story with Juniper and the excitement of playing go-between. (Fueling his involvement further, Ellis is in throes of puppy love with the slightly older May Pearl, and his parents' marriage is on the rocks.) The kid actors are good, and McConaughey is low-key and natural as the mysterious and semi-mystical but seemingly honest Mud (this was the best I had seen him before Dallas Buyers Club). Sam Shepard, Sarah Paulson, Ray McKinnon, Joe Don Baker and the rest of the supporting cast are solid. Arkansas-born Nichols has a good feel for his Southern milieu.
42: Writer-director Brian Helgeland brings the latest biopic of Jackie Robinson to the screen. The storytelling and filmmaking are pretty traditional and straightforward, but the film features several memorable scenes. Chadwick Boseman delivers a strong performance as Robinson, the first black man to play for major league baseball after WWII. Harrison Ford give one of his better gruff, paternal performances (his second of the year) as Brooklyn Dodgers exec Branch Rickey, who wants "a player who's got the guts not to fight back." Nicole Beharie does a nice job as Jackie's wife Rachel, and the versatile Alan Tudyk is indelibly despicable as Ben Chapman, the virulently and vocally racist manager of the Phillies. Robinson's talented and has a tough skin, but sometimes the unrelenting jabs get to him, and his reactions to this mounting pressure makes for some dramatic scenes. 42 has its inaccuracies, but none are that consequential. It does tend to get overly sentimental, the score playing warmly underneath, for some of the scenes of cross-racial harmony. It's a Hollywood studio movie, but taken on those terms, it's not bad, especially for fans of baseball and Robinson.
Trance: Director Danny Boyle loves the medium so much it's generally fun to watch him work, even in a minor piece such as this, but suspension of disbelief becomes a mounting problem. Simon (James McAvoy) is an art auctioneer who becomes entangled with criminals, who want him to steal a painting. Things go wrong, blows are exchanged, and Simon winds up with amnesia – he can't remember where he hid the painting. After the criminals (led by the sinister and stylish Franck, played by Vincent Cassel) torture him and begrudgingly acknowledge he's telling the truth, they light upon the idea of sending him to a hypnotherapist to try to help him remember. It winds up being Elizabeth (Rosario Dawson), who gets sucked further and further into the plot with the gang. Boyle and writers Joe Ahearne and John Hodge makes some interesting choices, particularly playing on and against McAvoy's likeable personality, but they don't all work, particularly when the framing and tone of the movie's beginning is compared with its ending. Likewise, although the film tries to invent some cover, the powers of hypnotherapy as depicted become increasingly powerful and implausible. We're also left rather unmoored, without someone to root for. Hitchcock manipulated audience expectations and shifting identifications expertly (particularly in Psycho), but here such matters just feel muddied and tossed off. As with Side Effects, this movie goes a few twists too far.
Oz the Great and Powerful: Director Sam Raimi delivers this origin-story prequel with some visual flair and a solid cast – James Franco as the once and future Oz, Zach Braff as Frank/Finley the flying monkey, and three disparate witches in Michelle Williams as goodie two-shoes Glinda, Rachel Weisz as the scheming Evanora, and Mila Kunis as the more complex Theodora. I haven't read any of the Oz books so I can't speak to the film as an adaptation, but it works reasonably well as a prequel to viewers only familiar with The Wizard of Oz. Franco is well-cast as a charming, womanizing bullshitter. Likewise, the actresses do a good job with what they're given, but I would have liked Glinda a bit less ethereal and aloof and early Theodora less naïve. Some of the fights, involving magic, machinery and subterfuge, are quite inventive, and the extended, climatic showdown is well-crafted. It's not a must-see except for fans of the Oz books or the actors, but it's a decent rental.
The Company You Keep: The main joys of Robert Redford's latest directorial effort (based on the novel of the same name) are that it's made for adults and features a stellar cast of older actors: Redford, Susan Sarandon, Nick Nolte, Chris Cooper, Richard Jenkins, Brendan Gleeson, Stephen Root, Sam Elliott and Julie Christie. The plot centers on Jim Grant (Redford), a recently widowed single dad whose Weather Underground past is uncovered by young reporter Ben Shephard (Shia LeBoeuf). Grant (really Nick Sloan) was implicated in a murder 30-some years ago, and is forced to go on the lam, leaving his 11-year-old daughter behind. In the process, he reconnects with many of his old colleagues, some of whom greet him warmly, and some who are less keen to see him. In both cases, this leads to discussions of their past political ideals and old disagreements, as well as their personal lives and how things have changed. (None of it ever feels preachy or like a political treatise; it’s old friends and acquaintances catching up.) Meanwhile, Shephard pumps Diana, an old girlfriend who works the FBI, for information as he tries to guess where Sloan is heading and what his goal is, since his movement patterns don't make apparent sense. Along the way, Shephard encounters and flirts with young Rebecca Osborne (Brit Marling), whose father Harry (Gleeson) is a retired cop who was in the thick of the murder investigation years ago, which still holds several unsolved mysteries. Tucci is good as Shephard's editor, whose efforts to mentor Shephard often go frustrated. Susan Sarandon is also a standout as Sharon Solarz, an articulate and worldly past radical whose arrest sets the events of the film in motion. I was left underwhelmed by Julie Christie in a pivotal role, though, and thought Sarandon would have done far better. The film also tends to have low energy at times despite the chase plot at its center. The movie doesn't hit a home run, but it's a welcome change of pace from more conventional Hollywood fare.
(Here's Robert Redford on The Treatment. It contains spoilers.)
Now You See Me: Director Louis Leterrier assembles a good cast for this caper flick of magicians (played by Jesse Eisenberg, Isla Fisher, Woody Harrelson and Dave Franco) recruited by a mysterious figure to form the group the Four Horseman. Financially backed by the rich Arthur Tressler (Michael Caine), they pull off amazing capers presented as stage magic to the public. Mark Ruffalo plays a frustrated FBI agent pursuing them, assisted by an Interpol agent played by Mélanie Laurent. Morgan Freeman plays Thaddeus Bradley, a retired magician and frequent talk show guest whose career is revealing how magic tricks are done. The movie's enjoyable enough, with some fun gags and double-crosses, including a satisfying final reveal. The film does require more-than-average suspension of disbelief, however. As with 2006's The Illusionist, at a few points (a human being floating into the air in a computer-generated bubble) it's not clear exactly how we're supposed to take what we're presented. Is this physical impossibility supposed to be a clever stage trick? Real magic? (Less likely.) Something the director thought looked cool so he just slapped it in? Thankfully, these moments are relatively rare. For the most part, all the tricks the Horseman play are grounded in reality – impressive, confounding, but possible in the material world (and we're generally shown later how they're pulled off). Viewers are asked to accept intricate and sometimes ridiculously elaborate planning, but that kinda goes with the genre. One of the film's flaws is that we don't get to know the core four that well. They're introduced nicely, all in the middle of a magic show or scam when they get the magician's equivalent of the bat signal, but after their recruitment, they leave the screen for a while and we don't see what happens. (We don't see what won them over, and given how ornery and individualistic these characters had been, especially Harrelson's, it raises questions.) Instead, we next see them as the hot ticket in town, the Four Horseman, and mostly from an outsider's perspective. Specifically, we mainly stay with Ruffalo as dogged and harried FBI agent Dylan Rhodes, who views the Horseman as enigmatic and taunting him. These are interesting choices, but it makes it hard to identify with the Horsemen, who are ostensibly the anti-heroes we're supposed to be rooting for. Still, in the end, it's a decent rental.
The Heat: It always helps if a comedy's actually funny, and this one is. Director Paul Feig (Bridesmaids) reunites with Melissa McCarthy, and this time on the screen, McCathy's teamed up with Sandra Bullock. (Katie Dippold, who's written for Parks and Recreation, penned the script.) The Heat has a simple, silly premise to put the two stars together, and as you probably guessed, Bullock's the stuck-up, by-the-book FBI agent who's highly competent but alienates her coworkers (Ashburn), who's forced to team up on a case with McCarthy, who's the intimidating, crass, mavericky undercover cop (Mullins). The two have good chemistry, with Bullock making a good straight woman to McCarthy's outrageous outbursts and wild actions (she's a skilled improviser). The film's also a reminder that, although Bullock's doing more serious roles now, she's got solid comic chops. I could have done without the obligatory "serious" subplots, but it was fun to see two women in a summer vehicle we've seen countless times with the gents. McCarthy's an excellent physical comedienne, but Bullock is impressive and hilarious herself in a bit where her leg isn't working properly. (And multiple puncture wounds have rarely been so funny.) Michael McDonald is a standout in the supporting cast.
Renoir: (Released in France in 2012.) This French film isn't a full biopic of justly celebrated painter Pierre-Auguste Renoir (played by Michel Boquet), but instead visits him late in life during WWI through the eyes of his latest model, the young and lovely Andrée Heuschling (Christa Theret). Renoir's hands have become arthritic, meaning he has to have the paint brush strapped on, and he persists in painting despite the pain. He lives in the south of France far from the front and supported by a household of doting women who admire him and his work. Later on, he's visited by his eldest son Jean (Vincent Rottiers), back home from the war. Jean is disillusioned by life and war but is still considering going back (he has yet to become a masterful film director). Romance also blossoms between him and Andrée. As you'd expect, this is a gorgeously shot movie, full of dappled light and the summer colors of the French countryside. There's not much of a plot, and I'd still like to see an actual biopic of Renoir senior, but it's a pleasant film to watch.
Aftermath: (Released in Poland in 2012.) Émigré to Chicago Franciszek Kalina (Ireneusz Czop) returns home after years to small-town Poland to visit his brother Józef (Maciej Stuhr) at the family farm because he's heard there's trouble (Józef's wife has left but wouldn't tell Franciszek what happened). Family tension lingers because Józef was left to handle the farm and Franciszek didn't make it back for their parents' funerals, but some affection (or at least deeper loyalty) remains, too. Franciszek soon encounters dirty looks from many town members, but no one, including his brother, will speak of what's going on. A brick through the farm window and some violence in a bar finally get Józef to start confiding in his brother. The town harbors some awful secrets from WWII that Józef stumbled upon and feels compelled to investigate further. At first, Franciszek doesn't see the point any more than the rest of the town, but eventually gets pulled in as well, if for no other reason initially than solidarity with his brother. The film is loosely inspired by real events, chronicled in a link below, but I won't give more away here. Aftermath makes for a pretty effective thriller, with gradual, cumulative reveals, and some of the scenes are striking, particularly those involving a nighttime exit from a church, a dusty records basement, and a rainy, muddy night near a cabin. (It occasionally feels like a horror film.) Plausibility is strained, however, by the extremity of Józef's reticence, the same from his wife (although we never see her), and by a late complete reversal of attitude (perhaps ultimately passing) by a major character. All these feel like plot-demanded constructs versus more organic elements, mostly so that Franciszek can come in blind and then gradually transform. This artificiality undercut the film's climax for me, because it felt too contrived, but despite these flaws, Aftermath remains a memorable, provocative film.
(Here's the book that inspired the film; needless to say, the link contains spoilers.)
Kon-Tiki: (Released in Norway in 2012.) This Norwegian film earned a foreign language film Oscar nomination (alas, the English language version was released in theaters here). The movie chronicles the real-life adventures of Thor Heyerdahl and his team, who in 1947 built a raft and tried sailing it without modern navigation from Chile to Easter Island to prove that pre-Columbian South Americans could have visited the Polynesian Islands. ("Kon-Tiki" is the name given the raft, supposedly an old name for the Incan sun god.) It makes for an interesting story, but at times the conflict on the raft feels artificially ratcheted, and the film loses considerable suspense for viewers who know the outcome. To its credit, the film does explore different aspects of the charismatic Heyerdahl, with other characters periodically questioning whether Heyerdahl is a visionary or a delusional egomaniac. Kon-Tiki winds up being a decent but unexceptional survival film and biopic.
(Here's the co-directors of the film on The Business about shooting the film in both Norwegian and English.)
Sharknado: This SyFy Channel film aired on TV first and later played in movie theaters for an event night. It was sold as a so-bad-it's-good fun watch, but mostly it's just bad. A movie about Los Angeles besieged by shark-filled tornadoes could have goofy fun, but all the deliberatively ridiculous, best parts were in the ads (the hero's chainsaw leap through the gaping mouth of a pouncing, airborne shark). What kills the movie is that the basic filmmaking is so inept. The shot coverage, editing and continuity make for a disjointed viewing experience. The protagonists drive through water that alternates between puddle-deep and neck-deep, stock footage of a "road block" (a police car on dry streets) is awkwardly spliced in, and characters can step out of frame four feet and wind up in a badly mismatched effects shot. Abrahams-Zucker movies such as Airplane! and The Naked Gun deliberately created and mocked bad continuity, but here it just screams, "We have no budget and no time!" (Apparently, it was a 18-day shoot and the budget was about one million.) I wanted to like this much more than I did. (A sequel is due out at the end of June.)
(I'm further behind than usual on my annual post-Oscar film roundup, a pre-blog tradition I'll be tweaking after this edition. But here's part one in the meantime.)
2013 was a good year for film. Fare for adults was plentiful and varied. The comic book movies and other would-be blockbusters were mostly decent yet unexceptional, but Gravity was a cut far above in terms of spectacle popcorn movies.
As usual, discriminating movie lovers watch the Oscars to cheer and boo, to see good work rewarded, and to marvel at those talented but sometimes clueless people who can deliver worthy films but also astounding bad taste.
As host, Ellen DeGeneres was… okay. After Seth McFarlane's rude and raunchy stint last year, the producers went with "nice" (although DeGeneres did have a weird dig early on that Liza Minnelli looked like a female impersonator that didn't play that well for the audience or Minnelli). I'm not a fan of extended "working the crowd" stuff, which with a Hollywood set veered toward self-satisfaction. As for the Oscar group pic – neat to crash Twitter. Meta and all that. I felt the goofiness outweighed any narcissism. Meanwhile, I wish the cheap seats had also gotten some pizza, but it's cool that the delivery man got a big tip. (For what it's worth, I liked Jon Stewart as host, and think Steve Martin might be my favorite – debonair and with a playful and savage wit. But chacun à son gout and all that.)
The presenters: The best moment was Robert DeNiro's intro for the writing awards – "The mind of a writer can be a truly terrifying thing. Isolated, neurotic, caffeine-addled, crippled by procrastination, consumed by feelings of panic, self-loathing and soul-crushing inadequacy. And that’s on a good day." The weirdest was undoubtedly John Travolta, who mangled Idina Menzel's name as "Adele Nazeem" and spawned a new meme. (It quickly had its own name generator. By the way, the Oscar telecast scripts – which are fed into the teleprompters – give phonetic spellings of every name to avoid exactly this kind or blunder. I don't know if Travolta is dyslexic or was drunk or just had a brain meltdown; accounts vary.)
Other moments: Pink has a much prettier singing voice than I realized, and did a lovely job overall on "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." (I agree with her critics that it's bad form to take a big breath in the middle of a word, though.) This year and last, a singer came on after the Montage of Death (as we call it), and I much prefer the approach from a few years back, when Queen Latifah sang gracefully during the "In Memoriam" segment. (Meanwhile, I correctly guessed that Kristen Bell was the "virgin sacrifice" this year presenting the technical awards; traditionally it's some gorgeous starlet surrounded by middle-aged white men.)
The speeches: I was glad to see the Oscars take a page from the Emmys' book and have a designated speaker or clear divvying of parts, so that no one was left stranded at the end (that always pained me). Jared Leto kicked off the night with a well-prepared, segmented speech that humbly thanked his mom and noted others' struggles. The rhyming acceptance speech for Best Original Song was charming. Cate Blanchett gave her fellow nominees some sweet shout-outs (and a weird dig at Julia Roberts, who loved it; obviously some inside joke). She also made a welcome point to Hollywood about how audiences will indeed watch a film with a middle-aged woman in the lead. Matthew McConaughey's speech was loopy, including a funny, affectionate bit about his deceased father but also an odd section about how his hero is himself in the future. I appreciated the sense that he doesn't like to rest on his laurels and wants to keep improving, but it came off as more egocentric than I imagine he intended. (He's grown from a decent but unexceptional pretty boy actor with some raw charisma into quite a fine performer.) The best speech for me was easily the effusive one from Lupita Nyong'o, who thanked the historical Patsey (her character), the entire cast and crew of 12 Years a Slave, and made a lovely distinction by not saying that 'your dreams can come true' but that "your dreams are valid."
For the most part, I thought the awards went to the right recipients or at least they were defensible. For instance, I was rooting for the extraordinary feature documentary The Act of Killing, but I've heard good things about the winner, 20 Feet from Stardom, and having one of its subjects break into song during the acceptance speech was one of the best moments of the night. Personally, I enjoyed Despicable Me 2 more than Frozen, but the latter film was immensely popular and well-crafted on its own terms. I was sorry that Iranian film The Past wasn't nominated for Best Foreign Language Film (it was knocked out during an earlier round of the process), but the eventual winner, The Great Beauty, is a gorgeous piece. I felt a bit bad for American Hustle, one of the best films of the year, which earned 10 nominations yet won zero awards. It was the victim of bad timing (similar to Peter O'Toole and his nominations), because all of the winners were deserving. Just consider – American Hustle had nominees in all four acting categories, and in the past four years, films directed by David O. Russell have garnered an impressive (and well-deserved) 11 acting nominations.
I enjoyed Gravity as a movie-going experience, and its craftsmanship will surely be studied in years to come, but I wouldn't rank it as Best Picture before 12 Years a Slave or American Hustle, so I was relatively pleased with how the night shaped up. Similarly, I was glad to see 12 Years a Slave and Her win the screenwriting awards, although I also would have been happy to see American Hustle win.
With the increasing importance of visual effects in genuinely good filmmaking, awards voters should ponder what constitutes directing and what constitutes cinematography versus visual effects. If the director is the person who mixes and coordinates everything, from performances to technical elements (which is usually the case), it makes sense that the talented Alfonso Cuarón won this year, just as Ang Lee won last year for Life of Pi for similar mastery. Ideally, technical expertise and the craft of filmmaking won't completely trump the art of eliciting a set of good performances, but that hasn't been the case in recent years (Tom Hooper won for the traditionally shot and superbly acted The King's Speech in 2010). Obviously, the elements don't need to be mutually exclusive, and in good filmmaking they frequently aren't.
The line is less clear between cinematography and visual effects, though, and it seems one must almost see the behind-the-scenes features to fairly judge the work. Many of the gorgeous shots that probably won Life of Pi the cinematography award last year were in fact visual effects shots (the film won for visual effects, too, justifiably). How much of the kinetic, acrobatic visual style of Gravity was due to Director of Photography Emmanuel Lubezki? How much was the visual effects team? How much was director Alfonso Cuarón? Given Lubezki's extraordinary past work (especially in Children of Men, the third film reviewed here), I was happy to see him win. Still, cinematography, editing, and the two sound categories (and to a lesser degree production design and costume design) can be poorly understood by Academy voters and the audience. (I'll make a plug again for the Academy explaining them better, as well as for promoting the short films.) I thought Gravity was a worthy recipient for its many awards in the more technical categories. However, Inside Llewyn Davis is one of the most lovely, exquisite soft-lighting jobs I can recall and its sound mix (featuring plenty of good folk music) is also superb; it's just that they're less flashy. I'm also reminded of David Watkin, who won the cinematography Oscar for Out of Africa and noted how much it was due to the work of the second unit (that traditionally does most of the landscape shots). All that said, good for Lubezki.
I was rooting for Amy Adams to win at last for her versatile, multilayered, keep-us-guessing performance in American Hustle. She's been consistently outstanding, it was her fifth nomination and all of the other nominees had already won (although in the supporting category for Blanchett and Dench). Still, Blanchett was superb in Blue Jasmine, and classily praised Adams and the other nominees from the stage. Personally, I might have given Best Actor to Chiwetel Ejiofor's powerful performance in 12 Years a Slave (and wonder how many more shots he'll have at the Oscar), but previous supporting actor nominee Matthew McConaughey was excellent in Dallas Buyers Club.
Finally, although I respect the intent behind the Independent Spirit Awards, I suspect they may need to be rethought next year. Currently, contending films must have a budget of 20 million or less, which is pretty cheap by Hollywood standards. The problem is that most of the nominated films, except in special categories, tend to be "mini-majors," semi-indies partially financed and backed by the bigger studios. This year, almost all the major categories were won by the same people and films that won the corresponding Oscars. That speaks well of the Academy recognizing good 2013 films, but it also leaves the Independent Spirit Awards looking less special, apart from providing a few more picks to the potential viewing list.
Update: Anyway, on to the reviews. I wouldn't put too much stock in their relative category rankings. I'm playing with some new spoiler coding this time, which seems to be working on the browsers and devices I've tested – just toggle the show/hide button. (As usual, my guideline is that, if it appears in the trailer, it's not a spoiler). Meanwhile, I've added the usual interview links (mostly audio). The other sections are:
Happy St. Patrick's Day! Here's a tune I've posted elsewhere, Makem and Clancy's rousing rendition of "The Rocky Road to Dublin":
(I posted the High Kings' excellent version last year.)
For the day, Digby posts a U2 classic.
Meanwhile, Anne Laurie at Balloon Juice has posted an open thread (and there are some other posts for occasion).
My archives: 2013 (A children's version of the Táin Bó Cúailnge, plus the aforementioned tune), 2012 ("History of Ireland in 100 Excuses"), 2010 ("Four Green Fields" and "The Patriot Game," which I think pair well, and I've used a couple of times), 2009 ("Ar Eirinn Ni Neosainn Ce Hi," one of the prettiest songs I know) and 2007 ("The Wind That Shakes the Barley").
Finally, this has been making the rounds:
(Never let it be said that the Irish don't have a sense of humor about themselves.)
Feel free to link any favorite Irish songs, poems or what-not in the comments.
This song has been in rotation at KCRW, and you can hear/see the official video here. I went with the live version, though, because the band made their television debut on Letterman on Monday, and their frontman (Samuel T. Herring, apparently) is a theatrical goofball who goes for broke. Rock on, brother!
(Old Man in Armchair, by a follower of Rembrandt. National Gallery, London.)
There's been a rash of deaths in the performing arts these past few months, and it seems like all I'm writing these days are obituaries. I hope to get to other (long-simmering) pieces eventually. Still, if there's a time to take note of someone's life and career, their passing is it (in our culture and most others). I have limited time to write, so I'd at least like to pay homage to people whose work I've appreciated over the years. As Arthur Miller wrote (in a play Philip Seymour Hoffman starred in not long ago), attention must be paid.
Harold Ramis has died at the age of 69. He directed two films dear to me, Groundhog Day and Ghostbusters, and had a hand in many others I enjoyed. By all accounts, he was a selfless collaborator, and this is amply on display in Ghostbusters, which Ramis acted in and cowrote with Dan Aykroyd. Ramis plays Egon Spengler, the no-nonsense brains of the outfit, meaning he delivers some great lines deadpan, but mostly plays straight man to Bill Murray and Aykroyd – and let them have most of the funniest lines. (He also often showed sound judgment as a writer and director, as when he rejected a studio idea that the cause of Phil's Groundhog Day predicament should be a jilted ex soliciting a gypsy curse on him.) Some great tributes have been written to Ramis, but I wanted to take a look at Ramis' craft and artistry, especially since comedy often don't get no respect.
The difference between a decent comedy and great one is often just a few elements, and Ramis' successes demonstrate that well. Three aspects stand out for me – the ending, exploring the premises, and the human core of the story. (Obviously, in a good story, all of these will overlap.)
Let's begin with endings. They can be tricky, and it's not uncommon for a story to go for the big climatic scene and flop. The typical forced-versus-earned climax chooses spectacle over character, and loses sight of what made us invest in the story earlier. A forced climax in action and horror films tends to be a big-but-hollow CG spectacular. Comedies often build toward madcap mayhem, the ultimate chaos of the film – but in the forced versions, it all feels strained and artificial. In The Party, the forced climax is the all-too-predictable, everyone-in-the-pool-with-the-baby-elephant bit. (Some people love the film; I think Peter Sellers is brilliant and delivers some great moments, including a hilarious Gunga Din parody, but don't like the overall flick much.) In American Pie 2, it's the turn into the third act – the overamped-for-the-circumstances scene where the bros hear their other bro is distraught and has gone walking on the beach alone (oh noes!) so they must find him urgently, pull him out of the film's lowest moment (bro despair of little more than a minute or two) and then stride back to the beach house together, gorgeously lit as the music swells, bro-triumphant. (I only saw the first two films in the series, and they have their moments, but that sequence felt forced, unearned and reeked of filmmaker desperation.) I'm sure readers can come up with their own examples. But compare the misses with the finale of Ghostbusters. The extended showdown with the demon Gozer, who transforms into the giant Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man, is absolutely hilarious. The editing build-up of teases and reveal is perfect, Dan Aykroyd's lead-in is masterful, and the ensemble play off each other beautifully, with some classic lines. (Ramis: "I'm sorry Venkman, I'm terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought.") The climatic parade mayhem scene Animal House is likewise actually funny. In a different tone, Groundhog Day's big celebratory party scene feels completely earned, as does the final morning wake-up scene. Ramis knew how to set up his partners for a topper, and at his best, he really stuck the landing.
Many films don't fully explore their own premises. It's a key frustration for viewers of a near miss, usually voiced something like, "They had a good idea, but they just didn't know what to do with it!" The better the core idea, the more maddening the whiff is. In the best films, that exploration has happened during the writing process, dozens of bad (or merely not as strong) ideas have been tried out and discarded, and the final script reflects all that thought and experimentation. The best scripts work through all the weak spots until the character(s) and the plot click together and are inseparable. Groundhog Day is one of those films for me, and I've praised it more times than I can remember on those grounds. I found it immensely satisfying when I first saw it, because every time I thought, "What about...? What if he tried..?" the filmmakers actually explored it. (Groundhog Day was originally written by Danny Rubin, but it was significantly reworked in collaboration with Harold Ramis, and both authors deserve some credit for the script's success.) Dumb characters are maddening to watch. Phil (Bill Murray) is certainly selfish, self-destructive or despairing at points in the movie, but he's not dumb. He tries everything – personal advantage, charity, suicide, conning Rita (Andie MacDowell), and many other approaches. The basic idea of being stuck in a particular place has been explored countless times in storytelling, and the idea of being stuck in a specific day or returning to the same spot has been done several times in sci-fi. (I've actually argued that Groundhog Day can be viewed as sci-fi/fantasy/speculative fiction – using an unusual situation to explore some facet of the human experience.) Groundhog Day covers similar ground to other "trapped" stories, and it's actually funny to boot (even moving). That's quite the feat.
On that point – Groundhog Day works so well because Phil not only amuses us, we begin to really care about him and his predicament. There's a human core to the story. (In Ghostbusters, that element isn't as strong or crucial, but we do grow to like the team.) Groundhog Day is one of Bill Murray's best performances, and the importance of that can't be underestimated. But the screenplay, cowritten by Ramis, creates the path, and Ramis' direction guides that performance and sets the story's pace and build. There's a great line in The Fisher King where Jack (Jeff Bridges), who's in genuine despair and feeling deserved guilt, says, "I wish there was some way I could just pay the fine and go home." He wants an easy out rather than actually changing. One of the triumphs of the The Fisher King is that it fully explores that dynamic and what it takes for Jack to truly transform, and Groundhog Day pulls off something identical. After a lovely night with Rita, Phil tries to recreate the magic another night, but it's forced and artificial, and doesn't work. In a different vein, he tries to save the life of a homeless man, but nothing he tries succeeds. Both of those elements are pretty damn profound for something sold as a comedy. (The sequence of deaths is also masterfully assembled.) Death can't be cheated forever, and sometimes not even for day; true love is not a matter of tricks or following the um, perfect script, but of honestly, intimately connecting with a human being. Call it soul or heart, but we need to care about Phil for the film to resonate ultimately; Ramis and the rest of the team provide a recognizable human experience in the fantastical by grounding the proceedings in an emotional reality. ("Imaginary gardens with real toads in them.")
All of this is to say that Harold Ramis' best work shows a craftsmanship and artistry that's genuinely impressive. Here are a few scenes to demonstrate this. First, here's one of my all-time favorite comedy scenes:
Ramis deadpans his bit expertly, as does Ernie Hudson in his reaction. Notice all the exposition and setup in this scene hiding under the comedy? It starts with Ramis, Aykroyd builds on it, Murray mentions the EPA and asks about the grid, gets an update, and then the scene closes with a callback – "What about the twinkie?" We get several funny lines – all rooted in character – plus plot development, all in about 45 seconds! That's mighty efficient.
Here's the bridge scene, the most serious one from the same movie. Ramis isn't in it, but he and Aykroyd wrote it, and notice that only this combination of team members could have this discussion. The scene is actually pretty spooky for a comedy, and builds the stakes and tension:
Over to Groundhog Day. Murray's very good here, but this sequence also shows off how tightly written and edited the film is:
In this later clip, Phil tries to recreate the connection he felt with Rita building a snowman on a previous Groundhog Day. But Phil's trying to force things, and discovers that the magic doesn't work like that:
Well done.
Links:
Harold Ramis on the metaphor of Groundhog Day (video).
The Los Angeles Times obituary.
The New York Timesobituary.
The Chicago Tribune obituary .
The NPR obituary
The Variety obituary.
Rob Vaux's fine remembrance.
The io9 remembrance.
Ubiquitous character actor Stephen Tobolowsky, probably best known as Ned Ryerson in Groundhog Day, has a great remembrance of Ramis.
The Wrap: "Harold Ramis, ‘Buddha of Comedy,’ Remembered By Rainn Wilson, Judd Apatow,""Harold Ramis and Bill Murray: Inside The ‘Groundhog Day’ Duo’s Decade-Long Feud" and "President Obama Makes ‘Caddyshack’ Joke in Tribute to Harold Ramis."Esquire:"An Oral History of Ghostbusters."
Indiewire, 2013: "5 Things You Might Not Know About Groundhog Day."The New Yorker, 2004: "Comedy First: How Harold Ramis’s movies have stayed funny for twenty-five years."
DVD Review, 1999: "Anatomy of a Comedian."
The great Sid Caesar has died. I mainly knew him from countless viewings of the compilation film, 10 From Your Show of Shows, a great showcase for his immensely talented comedy troupe. I later caught additional sketches (all excellent), and learned about his dream team of writers, including Mel Brooks, Woody Allen, Neil Simon, and Larry Gelbart. (Carl Reiner was both a writer and performer.) It's just staggering. Caesar himself was a stupendous comic actor, and had an immense talent for both pantomime and improvising in gibberish and fake foreign languages when required. (He called it "doubletalk." The brilliant Imogene Coca could perform it, but needed it written out, whereas Caesar would spout it off-the-cuff.)
The Wikipedia entry linked above is quite good and full of great quotations about Caesar. He's also appeared in fictionalized form, most notably in My Favorite Year (Mel Brooks was its uncredited executive producer) and Laughter on the 23rd Floor, the stage play by Neil Simon. The Caesar portrayed in those was fairly true-to-life – extremely talented, passionate, driven, an addict and a bit of a personal mess, the occasional bout of temper, committed to excellence in the craft, and deep down, caring deeply about his team. (Although it should be mentioned that those who caught Caesar at a bad time, especially during his heavy addictions years, don't remember him fondly on a personal level.)
If you can find it, PBS aired a great reunion called Caesar's Writers. Meanwhile, here are some clips and links:
"Five Dollar Date," which he wrote, and shows off his versatility, verbal skills and energy:
"The German General," written by Mel Brooks, and one of Caesar's best double-talking performances:
"From Here to Obscurity," one of the many film parodies (and quite long by today's standards):
"This Is Your Story," supposedly one of Caesar's personal favorites:
I was shocked and saddened to see that Philip Seymour Hoffman had died. He was an extremely talented, versatile and intelligent actor who made every project he was in better (seeing his name on the credits was a reassurance). His early work is notable for how he turned what could have remained small, forgettable or clichéd roles into memorable, intriguing characters. Likewise, one of many things I admired about it was that, even after he was getting leading parts, he continued to play extremely interesting supporting roles. He was a regular fixture of P.T. Anderson's films, and it's no surprise that good writer-directors sought out Hoffman and vice versa. Although he had a hulking frame, he managed to sell himself (all the way to an Oscar) as the diminutive, soft-spoken Truman Capote. He could play a snitch or a villain with panache, and showed a deft feel for comedy as well. His death at the relatively young age or 46 is a tremendous loss. A rash of fine performers have died recently, but at least Peter O'Toole, Pete Seeger, Maximillian Schell, Shirley Temple Black and Sid Caesar had long runs.
Hoffman's list of credits is extraordinary. I still need to see his directorial efforts, but the list of performances I loved is long. He plays a memorable weasel in Scent of a Woman and a suck-up par excellence in The Big Lebowski. As Scotty in Boogie Nights, his self-loathing (he's gay and smitten with Eddie/Dirk) makes him sympathetic. I've only seen clips of Flawless, but a friend of mine who adored Hoffman cited that performance all the time – what impressed her was that Hoffman didn't play Rusty as stereotypically gay or transgendered, but simply and matter-of-factly as a woman, and with dignity (more unusual in 1999 perhaps, but still). He plays a small but crucial role as the nurse in Magnolia. In The Talented Mr. Ripley, he's the one character to see through Tom Ripley's façade from the start, and he infuses his lingering stares and offhand remarks with subtle but palpable menace. In Almost Famous, he delivers a lovely, kind sermon to our hero on being "not-cool" and how embracing that difficult path can lead to becoming a good writer. He's the comic relief buddy to Ben Stiller in Along Came Polly, and he brings a goofy, fun energy to every scene he's in. His Oscar-winning performance is Capote is restrained, detailed, and engrossing. His passionate bluster as Gus in Charlie Wilson's War is enormous fun and one of the best things about the movie. In Doubt, the movie depends on him keeping us guessing, and he walks that line expertly. He and Paul Giamatti are excellent and the best things about The Ides of March. He's grounded and completely believable as worldly-wise Oakland A's baseball manager Art Howe in Moneyball. His charismatic, enigmatic role in The Master is assured and accomplished, and he plays wonderfully off his costars Joaquin Phoenix (playing Freddie) and Amy Adams (as Peggy), utterly still in the face of Freddie's manic chaos, yet occasionally exploding his own façade when challenged. The scenes between him and Donald Sutherland in Catching Fire were a joy. Hoffman was always so good regardless of the role it was easy to take it for granted that he'd deliver a fine performance and that he'd gift us with many more in the future. He will be greatly missed.
The New York Timesobituary.
The Los Angeles Timesobituary.
The Washington Postobituary, plus fan and peer reactions.
Rob Vaux's remembrance for Mania.
Rolling Stone: "Philip Seymour Hoffman Mourned Online by Fans and Colleagues,""Philip Baker Hall Remembers 'Genius' Philip Seymour Hoffman" and "9 Overlooked Philip Seymour Hoffman Performances."
Aaron Sorkin: "Philip Seymour Hoffman’s Death Saved 10 Lives."
Marc Maron on Hoffman and addiction.
Lance Mannion revisits his reviews of Hoffman's films, starting here (you can scroll through the other posts up above).
The remembrance threads from LG&M and Balloon Juice, featuring some great clips.
It had to happen eventually. Pete Seeger has died at the age of 94 after a long and very full life. (His wife Toshi died last year; they had been married 70 years.) Pete was a great and highly influential musician, and an even better human being. His contributions to folk music were colossal, and it's striking to see how many protest songs he wrote or popularized, most famously, "We Shall Overcome," which became central to the Civil Rights Movement. He also introduced music to several generations of kids. Bruce Springsteen put it well a few years back when said Pete Seeger was:
…a living archive of America’s music and conscience, a testament of the power of song and culture to nudge history along, to push American events towards more humane and justified ends. He would have the audacity and the courage to sing in the voice of the people, and despite Pete’s somewhat benign, grandfatherly appearance, he is a creature of a stubborn, defiant, and nasty optimism.
If you haven't seen it, the PBS American Masters documentary on Pete Seeger, The Power of Song, is excellent (for now, at least, it can be viewed online). Meanwhile, the 90th Birthday Concert has quite the lineup, and the 1982 documentary, The Weavers: Wasn't That a Time has some great footage.
Pete had a generous soul. It was impossible not to feel that, and the joy he felt in playing music and in communal singing. He just beamed on stage. As I wrote in an post several years back:
I saw Pete and Arlo Guthrie perform about six times in the 80s and 90s, mostly together, in one case a solo performance by Arlo at the Smithsonian. Going to see them was a family outing. During that period, Arlo played "Alice's Restaurant Massacree" again for the 20th anniversary, adding some funny stuff about Nixon. By the 90s, Pete was bringing his grandson Tao Rodriguez-Seeger out more often to help him sing, and Pete would just lie down on the stage between songs, propping himself up with his elbows. He and Arlo would trade off songs, bantering about what to sing next. They'd include some familiar favorites and add some new pieces, and always insisted on plenty of audience participation. They were very friendly, cheerful events.
Many people in this country probably have an informal list in the back of their minds of Americans they admire, of people past and present they think exemplify the best of the country and its potential, despite any flaws. Martin Luther King, Jr. is probably the most obvious choice for many. I'd add a number of activists, including Frederick Douglass, Susan B. Anthony, and Dorothea Dix. I'd probably add a couple of dozen artists at least. And on my list, I'd definitely include Pete Seeger. He was authentic. He was caring. He was often selfless. His faults, such as they were, grew from a good place. It might sound hokey, but I find it encouraging that America could produce a person like him… and that so many other Americans (and other people around the world) also valued Pete Seeger and what he did.
John Holbo of Crooked Timber has a good, playful post titled, "Conservative Taken Aback At President’s Reaction To Death Of Seeger." As Holbo points out (and others in the comments thread do), it's no surprise that the conservatives at National Review would excoriate Pete Seeger for once belonging to the communist party. As The New York Times obituary reports, he had left the party/organized movement by 1950, even though he never considered "communist" a dirty word. Additionally, t's well worth remembering how different the world looked leading up to, during, and after WWII. (John Fund at National Review claims Pete was "an unrepentant Stalinist until 1995." I'm guessing Fund's justifying adding at least 45 years to the timeline through some weaseling about what constitutes "repentance" to his satisfaction, as if he would ever be truly satisfied.) If Pete was a communist, he was a great American communist. He was always pro-labor, pro-diversity, pro-music, pro-arts, and pro-human. For me, there's never been any question that Pete's heart was in the right place, even if his judgment of Stalin in particular was faulty. National Review was arguing for segregation in the South and the inherent racial inferiority of blacks in the 1950s. It was denouncing the Civil Rights Movement and Martin Luther King, Jr. for "rabble-rousing demagoguery" in the 1960s. Pete Seeger was on the wrong side of National Review on all of that, and on the right side of history. Answering the question "Which Side Are You On?" ain't too hard.
I've featured Pete Seeger's House on Un-American Activities (HUAC) testimony in 1955 before, and it's worth reading in full. But some highlights:
I am not going to answer any questions as to my association, my philosophical or religious beliefs or my political beliefs, or how I voted in any election, or any of these private affairs. I think these are very improper questions for any American to be asked, especially under such compulsion as this. I would be very glad to tell you my life if you want to hear of it.
Differing views on "contributions" to society:
MR. SEEGER: I feel that in my whole life I have never done anything of any conspiratorial nature and I resent very much and very deeply the implication of being called before this Committee that in some way because my opinions may be different from yours, or yours, Mr. Willis, or yours, Mr. Scherer, that I am any less of an American than anybody else. I love my country very deeply, sir.
CHAIRMAN WALTER: Why don't you make a little contribution toward preserving its institutions?
MR. SEEGER: I feel that my whole life is a contribution. That is why I would like to tell you about it.
On inclusiveness:
MR. SEEGER: I have sung for Americans of every political persuasion, and I am proud that I never refuse to sing to an audience, no matter what religion or color of their skin, or situation in life. I have sung in hobo jungles, and I have sung for the Rockefellers, and I am proud that I have never refused to sing for anybody. That is the only answer I can give along that line. . . .
"These features": what do you mean? Except for the answer I have already given you, I have no answer. The answer I gave you you have, don't you? That is, that I am proud that I have sung for Americans of every political persuasion, and I have never refused to sing for anybody because I disagreed with their political opinion, and I am proud of the fact that my songs seem to cut across and find perhaps a unifying thing, basic humanity, and that is why I would love to be able to tell you about these songs, because I feel that you would agree with me more, sir. I know many beautiful songs from your home county, Carbon, and Monroe, and I hitchhiked through there and stayed in the homes of miners.
This bit's more subtle, but it's probably my favorite (emphasis mine):
MR. TAVENNER: The same occasion, yes, sir. I have before me a photostatic copy of a page from the June 1, 1949, issue of the Daily Worker, and in a column entitled "Town Talk" there is found this statement: The first performance of a new song, "If I Had a Hammer," on the theme of the Foley Square trial of the Communist leaders, will he given at a testimonial dinner for the 12 on Friday night at St. Nicholas Arena. . . .Among those on hand for the singing will be . . . Pete Seeger, and Lee Hays—and others whose names are mentioned. Did you take part in that performance?
MR. SEEGER: I shall he glad to answer about the song, sir, and I am not interested in carrying on the line of questioning about where I have sung any songs.
MR. TAVENNER: I ask a direction.
CHAIRMAN WALTER: You may not he interested, but we are, however. I direct you to answer. You can answer that question.
MR. SEEGER: I feel these questions are improper, sir, and I feel they are immoral to ask any American this kind of question.
MR. TAVENNER: Have you finished your answer?
MR. SEEGER: Yes, sir.
MR. TAVENNER: I desire to offer the document in evidence and ask that it be marked "Seeger exhibit No.4," for identification only, and to be made a part of the Committee files.
MR. SEEGER: I am sorry you are not interested in the song. It is a good song.
I imagine Pete saying that with his characteristic warm smile, and it makes me smile in turn. Talk about cross-purposes – his inquisitors wanted to lock up Americans for thoughtcrime; Pete wanted to talk about music. You either hear the music and appreciate it, or you don't. You either get what Pete's saying here, or you don't. (Not coincidentally, one of my favorite Zen stories hits the same basic point about what has value in this life.) As a wise colleague used to say to me, for those moments when you've given it a solid effort and just can't get through to someone, "There are some people who just don't get it, and if they don't get it, you can't tell 'em." That's certainly true of HUAC and their contemporary descendants, and it's their loss. It's also a loss they're determined to inflict on other people. It's an impulse consistently points out about conservatives, how they try to appropriate the arts and pop culture for propaganda purposes instead of just enjoying them, thus obstinately denying themselves one of the beautiful experiences possible in life.)
There's much to admire about Pete Seeger, but it's Pete the musician and the human being that stick with me the most. As for him as a political activist, you could put it this way: Pete never completely gave up on anyone... but he also didn't stand still waiting for them to figure it out.
I'll only post a few songs here, since the possibilities are vast, and several of the posts linked further below feature good selections.
The World's End: This is the first Edgar Wright-Simon Pegg-Nick Frost movie I haven't loved, but I was rarely bored. Gary King (Simon Pegg) was the coolest kid in high school, but unfortunately, he peaked then and hasn't grown since. One of his favorite stories from his teen years involves Gary and his four best chums attempting an ambitious pub crawl of all 12 pubs in their small hometown of Newton Haven. It was a wild night, but the gang fell off one by one along the way, and even Gary succumbed three pubs short. Desperate to reignite a spark in his life (or just relive his glory days), middle-aged Gary visits his old friends to recruit them in another attempt. But they've all moved on in their lives, and at least one of them, Andy Knightley (Nick Frost), holds a strong grudge against Gary. (Why specifically isn't revealed until much later, but given Gary's nature, we have no difficulty believing the grudge is justified.) Regardless, Gary manages to beg, plead, bribe and guilt them into joining him, and away they go, in Gary's limping high school car no less, nicknamed "the Beast." The first section of the film is a warm look at friendships and growing older, and how the latter affects the former. Pegg and Frost have great chemistry as usual, and all the key cast (Martin Freeman, Eddie Marsan and Paddy Considine) play off each very naturally as old chums. (Rosamund Pike is also memorable as Freeman's sister – among other things, her scenes show that Gary's teenage moves on the ladies have not aged well.) Pegg's vocal work alone is entertaining, as he spouts off long, hyperverbal speeches full of tonal shifts in his mellifluous baritone. The film possesses a more serious undertone than the others from this team that emerges from Gary and Andy's confrontations. Meanwhile, there's a wild plot twist that occurs a third to a halfway in that significantly changes the movie. The resulting scenes are well-staged and entertaining (although a climatic scene drags on too long). Still, I was honestly enjoying the first film, a comedy with a serious side about aging pals, more than the second film it became; elements of the first film persist into the second one, but I didn't need that other stuff in this particular movie. All that said, it's still well worth seeing if you've enjoyed this team's films in the past.
