Boyhood (R) - Review
"Years pass like seconds, minutes like hours"
A boy and his family grow up, through thick and thin, through 12 years of life in Texas in Director Richard Linklater's newest experimental film in long-distance filmmaking, the first real time coming of age picture
Actually spanning these years, watching an actor grow from childhood to adulthood onscreen in accelerated real-time as his family also grows and morphs, is a fascinating exercise in spatial filmmaking; joining up year after year (the music and styles and car-fads are the only clue what year the characters are living in at the moment, which zoom forward without provocation). It's a video diary of a generation, the post 9-11 children and their families, ups and downs, divorces and new found loves zipping by as the hairstyles go from mullets/Biebers/Emo/to Hipsters.
However, the necessarily amateur acting detracts from the believability, having child actors that grow into adult actors that can never quite act hurts the suspension of crucial disbelief. The start of the film has some tense moments with a drunk stepdad or family fights, but about half-way through the film all the characters settle down into this tepid groove of suburban life that, while may be real, is not very absorbing. The boy of the title, Mason, is the kind of sullen eyed aimless kid who won't tear himself away from a game screen for half a second to say hello, the kind of child we've all met and felt a little slighted by. His sister is a charming goof, his dad (Ethan Hawk) is a tousled hair loser, his mom a caring overstressed hen (Patricia Arquette). The family dynamic itself is interesting, yet they all surround a kid who is very unrelateable and, dare we say, almost unlikable? And at nearly 3 hours, Boyhood may invoke a feeling of family just at it's sheer length of exposure you are inflicted to, like a distant relative whose opinion is ignored off hand: "No Mason, why would you gauge your ears, do you know what you'd look like when you're 80?" He shrugs, digs out cereal bowl.
Boyhood (which is a bit of a misnomer considering the other characters get almost as much screen time as Mason, or at least are more interesting) feels like some of the other nostalgia pieces of Linklater's, whether it's the Austin Weirdness of Slacker or the High School weed-glow in Dazed and Confused. Some of it seems rewrtitten from these other movies, the underage drinking and drug use are such low hanging fruit that they feel out of place here, not every generation is doomed to repeat the previous' fun and mayhem, and not every kid will take a nip from a flask if asked to. The only difference here is that Richard isn't that personally nostalgic about the Iraq War, or Honda MiniVans or Game Boy Advances, and it shows. Stapling these emotions from his 70s boyhood has a false feeling of disjointedness to the millennial events, and while literally watching a kid grow up from 6 to 18 is a fascinating experience, the film itself, the entertainment value, is the same as watching a strangers home movies without anyone to answer your questions, "Aren't these kids cute but where are they living now, that must be his uncle I guess, when did she start dating him, seriously there is a whole other hour left on the tape???" There are whole 15 minute scenes that seem superfluous, and when your movie is a nearly 3 hour long family drama one could think it's runtime very excessive.
Narrative-wise, fun-wise, script-wise, acting-wise, it's not Linklater's best by a long shot (and he has done great before). Concept wise, it being a literal time-lapse photograph of a human being, like a stretched out youtube vid of the picture a month variety (turned into a scene a year in Boyhood), is fantastic and it's execution remarkable (that Linklater had to leave provisions for the film to be finished in the event of his untimely death speaks volumes about the commitment and energy of all involved). Unfortunately the mundane plot, length per entertainment value and overall distance of emotion left us with a dissenting opinion that unlike our own sunbeam dreanched childhood, this is something we won't be reminiscing about anytime soon.
6 Watching Human Grass Grow out of 10 (GOOD)
Showing posts with label 2014. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2014. Show all posts
Sabotage (2014)
Sabotage (R) - Review
"Get to da flop-pa!"
A DEA special forces team under the leadership of a distraught veteran rob some drug lords of 10 million dollars in a bloody bust, and are immediately double crossed. Six months later and their suspension over, the members are slowly dying off, one by one. Is it the money, is it the cartels, or is it someone within the group of violent sociopaths cloaked in authority? For Writer/Director David Ayer (scripter of the great Training Day and director of 2014's iffy Fury) Sabotage may live up to it's name, for his career at least.
And speaking of name, once the credits roll you may ask yourself what the film's title even means, or how it relates to story. And its a story that is so mean and nasty, so edgy but over the top "realistic" that it's general aura is as pleasant to watch as a grisly two dollar steak aging on the windowsill for a week. It's like Ayer and co-writer Scott Wood (whose screenwriting credits list many terrible mistakes like Wolverine: Origins) had lost a bet and had to translate TVs The Shield bad/good cop routine for the big screen. Except now with dripping guts and exposed strippers and enough Fbombs dropped to make the Anola Gay blush. Every woman is an edgy bad-ass power femme, every man has a PTSD loaded machine rifle and facial hair, every conversation is dingy curse-laden repartee that is as repetitive and gross as the exploitative violence. The filmmakers must have been brain damaged by all the squibs going off to expect the audience to embrace this team of psychotic tattooed criminals with badges when literally the entire country is concerned with the militarization of the police and their relation to the armed authority. Perhaps they thought their aging star would take the curse off it.
Arnold however comes with his own cinematic baggage. A lifetime of action movies, which often invented the same tropes that Sabotage tries to emulate, lays on Arnie's face, and you can't blame him for taking the role of DEA legend Breacher on. The actor has so many cheesy 80s 90s action vehicles under his belt that he is impossible to take seriously. They literally give him my late-Grandpa's haircut but avoid all the snide old jokes that we kind of smirked through in 2013's The Last Stand. Still Breacher's character arc couldn't have been telegraphed any better had it been transmitted by Samuel Morse himself, but then the producer's obviously got cold feet and recut the film's ending so that it's more of a traditional Arnold part, a schizophrenic decision that leaves the editing janky and build-up of tone all for nothing. Your own imagination might try to over complicate the plot of this almost 2 hour slog, but no this one is just going through the tough guys n girls cliches with nary a "good time tonight". It's all digital sprays of blood and curses, quarterbacked by a near-octogenarian who can barely move and whose character has almost no backstory to account for his Austrian presence in rural Georgia, not that any of the cast gets any kind of motivation beyond "we are generally unpleasant and have no regard for human life".
The whole film smacks of wasted energy. The plot and cinematic style screams late Tony Scott (the unwise Domino comes to mind) filled with green lights and spent shells. Missing is his driving sense of violent energy and stylish action, for Sabotage is just bullet snaps and soggy quips. The ensemble cast reminds of a squad of malcontents under fire ala Black Hawk Down, but woefully underuses it's talent. For instance Terrance Howard must have been edited completely out, his screen time is so minuscule and is used and abused by the plot like yesterday's wet naps, no way would he have agreed to this part as is on screen, and the rest of the cast fares no better. An entire hour was purportedly sliced from the film for which I must heartily congratulate some nameless studio suit for reducing my exposure to this film's noxious aroma. In no way did this dud need more side stories, more cop talk or a surprise twist at the end that was already boringly obvious.
The film is a dirty stinking mess either way, and that ending, ugh. It just keeps going through its murderous motions all the while smugly asking you out of the corner of its gleefully puling mouth "isn't this great?" It's the face of a movie that you'd just like to punch. Hard.
2 He Didn't Say He'll Be Back, But We Know He Will out of 10 (AWFUL)
"Get to da flop-pa!"
A DEA special forces team under the leadership of a distraught veteran rob some drug lords of 10 million dollars in a bloody bust, and are immediately double crossed. Six months later and their suspension over, the members are slowly dying off, one by one. Is it the money, is it the cartels, or is it someone within the group of violent sociopaths cloaked in authority? For Writer/Director David Ayer (scripter of the great Training Day and director of 2014's iffy Fury) Sabotage may live up to it's name, for his career at least.
And speaking of name, once the credits roll you may ask yourself what the film's title even means, or how it relates to story. And its a story that is so mean and nasty, so edgy but over the top "realistic" that it's general aura is as pleasant to watch as a grisly two dollar steak aging on the windowsill for a week. It's like Ayer and co-writer Scott Wood (whose screenwriting credits list many terrible mistakes like Wolverine: Origins) had lost a bet and had to translate TVs The Shield bad/good cop routine for the big screen. Except now with dripping guts and exposed strippers and enough Fbombs dropped to make the Anola Gay blush. Every woman is an edgy bad-ass power femme, every man has a PTSD loaded machine rifle and facial hair, every conversation is dingy curse-laden repartee that is as repetitive and gross as the exploitative violence. The filmmakers must have been brain damaged by all the squibs going off to expect the audience to embrace this team of psychotic tattooed criminals with badges when literally the entire country is concerned with the militarization of the police and their relation to the armed authority. Perhaps they thought their aging star would take the curse off it.
Arnold however comes with his own cinematic baggage. A lifetime of action movies, which often invented the same tropes that Sabotage tries to emulate, lays on Arnie's face, and you can't blame him for taking the role of DEA legend Breacher on. The actor has so many cheesy 80s 90s action vehicles under his belt that he is impossible to take seriously. They literally give him my late-Grandpa's haircut but avoid all the snide old jokes that we kind of smirked through in 2013's The Last Stand. Still Breacher's character arc couldn't have been telegraphed any better had it been transmitted by Samuel Morse himself, but then the producer's obviously got cold feet and recut the film's ending so that it's more of a traditional Arnold part, a schizophrenic decision that leaves the editing janky and build-up of tone all for nothing. Your own imagination might try to over complicate the plot of this almost 2 hour slog, but no this one is just going through the tough guys n girls cliches with nary a "good time tonight". It's all digital sprays of blood and curses, quarterbacked by a near-octogenarian who can barely move and whose character has almost no backstory to account for his Austrian presence in rural Georgia, not that any of the cast gets any kind of motivation beyond "we are generally unpleasant and have no regard for human life".
The whole film smacks of wasted energy. The plot and cinematic style screams late Tony Scott (the unwise Domino comes to mind) filled with green lights and spent shells. Missing is his driving sense of violent energy and stylish action, for Sabotage is just bullet snaps and soggy quips. The ensemble cast reminds of a squad of malcontents under fire ala Black Hawk Down, but woefully underuses it's talent. For instance Terrance Howard must have been edited completely out, his screen time is so minuscule and is used and abused by the plot like yesterday's wet naps, no way would he have agreed to this part as is on screen, and the rest of the cast fares no better. An entire hour was purportedly sliced from the film for which I must heartily congratulate some nameless studio suit for reducing my exposure to this film's noxious aroma. In no way did this dud need more side stories, more cop talk or a surprise twist at the end that was already boringly obvious.
The film is a dirty stinking mess either way, and that ending, ugh. It just keeps going through its murderous motions all the while smugly asking you out of the corner of its gleefully puling mouth "isn't this great?" It's the face of a movie that you'd just like to punch. Hard.
2 He Didn't Say He'll Be Back, But We Know He Will out of 10 (AWFUL)
Sin City: A Dame To Kill For (2014)
Sin City: A Dame To Kill For (R) Review
"Not a Film to Kill For"
Robert Rodriguez (From Dusk Till Dawn) and Frank Miller (Sin City) hit the bricks once again in a return to the gritty monotone ultraviolent world of sin and sex. Unfortunately no one seems really up for another round.
So what can we blame this misfire on? Almost ten years have passed since the original's translation onto the screen, and it must be admitted that most of the choicest comic material was put into that version. A Dame To Kill For is sadly not anywhere near the best Sin City story, and neither are the ones Frank wrote anew for the screenplay. The untapped potential is a bloody strike against. The Hollywood type "prequel"/"sequel" is confusing timeline-wise (not to mention full of plot holes if you try to line it up with the previous incarnation). The ghost of Hartigan (Bruce Willis, in a boring cameo) is present just because it increases star power and a sequel demands a return of the first's stars (supposedly). Marv, as played by Mickey Rourke, was the enigmatic star of the first movie, and so gets shoehorned into every place possible frame here which hurts the overall story. There is no equivalent of the excellent Yellow Bastard to give us a breather from his bizarre man-tics. He's always popping up to ask "how you doin babe," or "hey kid" to the other new or recurring characters as if to say yes, I approve of this addition. But does the audience? These new kids (Eva Green baring all, Josh Brolin showing off his orbital sockets, Joseph Gordon Levitt as a cocky gambler) do well but unfortunately it's the ones behind the production that just don't seem to have the spark. Miller's inks and Rodriguez's camera (with some help from Tarantino) brought the manic fury and razor-sharp Noir of the original to the screen almost a decade ago, and just don't seem to have the drive to fully return. There's a lot of machismo posturing but not much conviction. The visuals aren't as unique, the brand isn't as obscure, the story isn't as diverse or convincing, and with some of the best stories left behind for iffy new material or perhaps to fuel a future sequel that probably won't ever happen, it's a damn sin (even with it's harder "R" rating).
3 Who Shrunk Marv's Nose out of 10 (BAD)
"Not a Film to Kill For"
Robert Rodriguez (From Dusk Till Dawn) and Frank Miller (Sin City) hit the bricks once again in a return to the gritty monotone ultraviolent world of sin and sex. Unfortunately no one seems really up for another round.
So what can we blame this misfire on? Almost ten years have passed since the original's translation onto the screen, and it must be admitted that most of the choicest comic material was put into that version. A Dame To Kill For is sadly not anywhere near the best Sin City story, and neither are the ones Frank wrote anew for the screenplay. The untapped potential is a bloody strike against. The Hollywood type "prequel"/"sequel" is confusing timeline-wise (not to mention full of plot holes if you try to line it up with the previous incarnation). The ghost of Hartigan (Bruce Willis, in a boring cameo) is present just because it increases star power and a sequel demands a return of the first's stars (supposedly). Marv, as played by Mickey Rourke, was the enigmatic star of the first movie, and so gets shoehorned into every place possible frame here which hurts the overall story. There is no equivalent of the excellent Yellow Bastard to give us a breather from his bizarre man-tics. He's always popping up to ask "how you doin babe," or "hey kid" to the other new or recurring characters as if to say yes, I approve of this addition. But does the audience? These new kids (Eva Green baring all, Josh Brolin showing off his orbital sockets, Joseph Gordon Levitt as a cocky gambler) do well but unfortunately it's the ones behind the production that just don't seem to have the spark. Miller's inks and Rodriguez's camera (with some help from Tarantino) brought the manic fury and razor-sharp Noir of the original to the screen almost a decade ago, and just don't seem to have the drive to fully return. There's a lot of machismo posturing but not much conviction. The visuals aren't as unique, the brand isn't as obscure, the story isn't as diverse or convincing, and with some of the best stories left behind for iffy new material or perhaps to fuel a future sequel that probably won't ever happen, it's a damn sin (even with it's harder "R" rating).
3 Who Shrunk Marv's Nose out of 10 (BAD)
Noah (2014)
Noah (PG-13)
"When it rains it pours"
Director Darren Aaronofsky's (Requiem For A Dream) life long ambition of putting the Bible parable Noah on screen comes to fruition, but comes through quite waterlogged with modern ideas and structure. While not as atheist-centric as some had feared, the tale of Noah is filled with fantasy sci fi trappings along with the strongly mythical ones.
For an epic the story feels quite small, with just a few sets (ash land, rock land, grassy mountain, ark). For an epic there are very few characters, just Noah and his family and the evil Tubal-Cain (played by Ray Winstone), whose armies are just nameless background cannon(golem)fodder. The lack of racial diversity is an eerie throwback to Ten Commandments whitewashing, the fantastical rock giants evoke the LOTR trilogy more than the Holy Bible, the CGI driven time lapse photography that is quite jarring as it promotes evolutionary creationism, human bad guys shoot rocket launchers at those giant golems, and the fauna of the Earth that are saved two by two are strangely unevolved (dogs with armadillo scales?). The casting too lacks a certain finesse, with no performances besides Anthony Hopkins as Methuselah generating much interest. The choices are odd, and when considering the market for a straight laced Bible story is probably dwindling, the cynical might scream that these add-ons are mere tricks to spice up the potential box office gloom.
Yet when the movie plays upon and toys with the themes of this ancient mythology it actually hits some strong (if too modernized) philosophical chords and proves it's artistic forethought. The nature of the relationship between Creator and creations, the fight of good vs evil, sinful human nature versus his wished for ideals, these are inborn to the story of the flood. Stepping then as it does into the sciences of ecology, environmentalism, and conservationism makes the movie more palatable to modern audiences while still keeping its morals, or most of them, intact. When the Earth is being wiped out due to humanity's strip mining and pollution (the evil king is very unPC and therefore very pro-Earth exploitation) it skews it more towards self righteous liberalism. Add that to the mix the freakish rock-creatures and rough old testament miracles, Noah survives the flood of new and old. The added action scenes and family strife pad the overlong runtime to over 2 hours, but really could it be that entertaining of a story without them? Putting at its forefront the idea that mankind was once so technologically advanced and neglectful of the Earth and had to be completely wiped-out doomsday style is a side of the story often unexplored, and is probably just what 9 year old Aaronofsky was attracted to in the first place. Noah then has to wrestle with letting all of humanity die or let it begin again, which does the Creator want and what is it saying about us, the descendants of these men? Interesting ideas, but Noah just interests more than flat out entertains. However if you can forgive the deluge of eccentricity there are worse ways to spend an rainy afternoon.
5 Noah the Hatchet Man out of 10 (MEDIOCRE)
"When it rains it pours"
Director Darren Aaronofsky's (Requiem For A Dream) life long ambition of putting the Bible parable Noah on screen comes to fruition, but comes through quite waterlogged with modern ideas and structure. While not as atheist-centric as some had feared, the tale of Noah is filled with fantasy sci fi trappings along with the strongly mythical ones.
For an epic the story feels quite small, with just a few sets (ash land, rock land, grassy mountain, ark). For an epic there are very few characters, just Noah and his family and the evil Tubal-Cain (played by Ray Winstone), whose armies are just nameless background cannon(golem)fodder. The lack of racial diversity is an eerie throwback to Ten Commandments whitewashing, the fantastical rock giants evoke the LOTR trilogy more than the Holy Bible, the CGI driven time lapse photography that is quite jarring as it promotes evolutionary creationism, human bad guys shoot rocket launchers at those giant golems, and the fauna of the Earth that are saved two by two are strangely unevolved (dogs with armadillo scales?). The casting too lacks a certain finesse, with no performances besides Anthony Hopkins as Methuselah generating much interest. The choices are odd, and when considering the market for a straight laced Bible story is probably dwindling, the cynical might scream that these add-ons are mere tricks to spice up the potential box office gloom.
Yet when the movie plays upon and toys with the themes of this ancient mythology it actually hits some strong (if too modernized) philosophical chords and proves it's artistic forethought. The nature of the relationship between Creator and creations, the fight of good vs evil, sinful human nature versus his wished for ideals, these are inborn to the story of the flood. Stepping then as it does into the sciences of ecology, environmentalism, and conservationism makes the movie more palatable to modern audiences while still keeping its morals, or most of them, intact. When the Earth is being wiped out due to humanity's strip mining and pollution (the evil king is very unPC and therefore very pro-Earth exploitation) it skews it more towards self righteous liberalism. Add that to the mix the freakish rock-creatures and rough old testament miracles, Noah survives the flood of new and old. The added action scenes and family strife pad the overlong runtime to over 2 hours, but really could it be that entertaining of a story without them? Putting at its forefront the idea that mankind was once so technologically advanced and neglectful of the Earth and had to be completely wiped-out doomsday style is a side of the story often unexplored, and is probably just what 9 year old Aaronofsky was attracted to in the first place. Noah then has to wrestle with letting all of humanity die or let it begin again, which does the Creator want and what is it saying about us, the descendants of these men? Interesting ideas, but Noah just interests more than flat out entertains. However if you can forgive the deluge of eccentricity there are worse ways to spend an rainy afternoon.
5 Noah the Hatchet Man out of 10 (MEDIOCRE)
Birdman (2014)
Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) (R)
"What are we doing here? This place smells like balls..."
An actor famous for a Superhero film-series he abandoned decades ago is attempting to reclaim his artistry by staging a Broadway play he writes, directs and stars in. When the inevitable financial/personal/critical/midlife/familial crises hit(s), will his gravely blockbuster past help or hinder his efforts at an artistic reawakening? Or will the wings of fame and infamy be a drag on his endeavors (and mental stability) as he navigates a reality filled with unfulfillment and social-media, in director Alejandro Gonzalles Iñárritu's (Babel) dazzling masterpiece of technical skill and artistic identity.
Michael Keaton plays former Birdman star Riggan Thomson, a role both written for him and could-only-star him. The entire film is a mise en scène of Art-Reflecting-Life, as Keaton gets the role of a lifetime just as his character strives for the same on stage (on screen). Keaton is fantastic, reminding us just how funny and energetically charismatic he can be, even as he chews the scenery with new found beak of savagery. The voice of Batman, er, Birdman, echoes through Riggan's life as he tries to spread his wings and regain his self-worth. The other characters surrounding him fit naturally, sometimes dominating other times merely complimenting his story. His daughter just out of rehab is Emma Stone, his glory-hogging co-star is played by a very naked Ed Norton, his best friend and over-fawning producer Zack Galifnackis, his exwife, his current lover, his critic, his adoring fans, his stage hands, they form a wonderful small world on Broadway in the big world of New York that they live and breathe in.
Meanwhile, the camera and soundtrack cannot be ignored as the windowless entry into this world. The lens itself is very subjective, the film is mostly strung-out to appear as one long continuous shot. While this isn't a new idea, the amount of digital compositing and the amount of movement involved is to tremendous effect. As the camera swoops around, through and in the space with the actors as their long takes roll on, it builds a visual pattern that you fall in love with immediately,even as they break it to great effect. Unlike the film cameras used in Orson Welle's day as in Touch Of Evil's historic opening long take, digital can run on longer than the 8 minutes or so a reel of physical film does. And while it might be a tiny bit distracting looking for those long-intervaled seams (and they do exist), the technical know-how and skill to pull it off is astonishing and drives the play-like quality of the film. As is the jazzy beatnick score; it has been a long time since a musical soundtrack both complimented dialogue and driven emotional impact of scenes this flawlessly. Switching between a bebop staccato drum beat and pieces of classical loveliness, the sounds intertwine with the floating camera to create a hiphop-hypnotic effect that Birdman will long be famous for.
The entire film is showpiece after showpiece. While showcasing dynamic acting with heart-felt performances from all the principles actors on stage and onscreen, it is simultaneously showcasing camera technique and CG integration to an ungodly level, directed with sincerity and obtaining greatness. Technology complimenting art, Art imitating life, This is Life on the wing of Birdman,
9.5 Curtain Calls out of 10 (OUTSTANDING)
"What are we doing here? This place smells like balls..."
An actor famous for a Superhero film-series he abandoned decades ago is attempting to reclaim his artistry by staging a Broadway play he writes, directs and stars in. When the inevitable financial/personal/critical/midlife/familial crises hit(s), will his gravely blockbuster past help or hinder his efforts at an artistic reawakening? Or will the wings of fame and infamy be a drag on his endeavors (and mental stability) as he navigates a reality filled with unfulfillment and social-media, in director Alejandro Gonzalles Iñárritu's (Babel) dazzling masterpiece of technical skill and artistic identity.
Michael Keaton plays former Birdman star Riggan Thomson, a role both written for him and could-only-star him. The entire film is a mise en scène of Art-Reflecting-Life, as Keaton gets the role of a lifetime just as his character strives for the same on stage (on screen). Keaton is fantastic, reminding us just how funny and energetically charismatic he can be, even as he chews the scenery with new found beak of savagery. The voice of Batman, er, Birdman, echoes through Riggan's life as he tries to spread his wings and regain his self-worth. The other characters surrounding him fit naturally, sometimes dominating other times merely complimenting his story. His daughter just out of rehab is Emma Stone, his glory-hogging co-star is played by a very naked Ed Norton, his best friend and over-fawning producer Zack Galifnackis, his exwife, his current lover, his critic, his adoring fans, his stage hands, they form a wonderful small world on Broadway in the big world of New York that they live and breathe in.
Meanwhile, the camera and soundtrack cannot be ignored as the windowless entry into this world. The lens itself is very subjective, the film is mostly strung-out to appear as one long continuous shot. While this isn't a new idea, the amount of digital compositing and the amount of movement involved is to tremendous effect. As the camera swoops around, through and in the space with the actors as their long takes roll on, it builds a visual pattern that you fall in love with immediately,even as they break it to great effect. Unlike the film cameras used in Orson Welle's day as in Touch Of Evil's historic opening long take, digital can run on longer than the 8 minutes or so a reel of physical film does. And while it might be a tiny bit distracting looking for those long-intervaled seams (and they do exist), the technical know-how and skill to pull it off is astonishing and drives the play-like quality of the film. As is the jazzy beatnick score; it has been a long time since a musical soundtrack both complimented dialogue and driven emotional impact of scenes this flawlessly. Switching between a bebop staccato drum beat and pieces of classical loveliness, the sounds intertwine with the floating camera to create a hiphop-hypnotic effect that Birdman will long be famous for.
The entire film is showpiece after showpiece. While showcasing dynamic acting with heart-felt performances from all the principles actors on stage and onscreen, it is simultaneously showcasing camera technique and CG integration to an ungodly level, directed with sincerity and obtaining greatness. Technology complimenting art, Art imitating life, This is Life on the wing of Birdman,
9.5 Curtain Calls out of 10 (OUTSTANDING)
Wolfcop (2014)
Wolfcop (R)
"Hair of the Dog that bit ya"
An small town alcoholic Deputy in Canada's Great White North is terrible at his job. He drinks, he's late, he's lazy, he's hungover, ...he drinks. But when he gets cursed one night by a cult of shape shifters in the woods he becomes one hairy, scary, extraordinary law enforcement officer!
Granted Wolfcop has a slow start, and until the movie's first transformation kicks in there is a lot of heel dragging and iffy acting (but it's only 78 minutes so hang in there!). Once he transforms (and wait till you see WHAT transforms first), the movie's gore and humor kick it way past its cheapo one-idea script. The make up is dollar store wigs and makeup with some rubber hands so you'll never confuse this with an American Werewolf in London remake (its more along the lines of Canadian WereWolf in Saskatchewan with Strange Brew thrown in for good measure). Fueled by whiskey, driven to serve and protect (or is it sever and project?), Wolfcop is lewd, rude and in the nude with a tasty 1980's horror style and soundtrack (and love scene, ick). Much rougher and ghetto-er than it's Canadian cousin "Hobo With A Shotgun," Wolfcop nonetheless attains coolness as he wolfs down donuts and booze in his tricked out squad car on the icy roads of justice.
Next time team him up with BioCop!
6.5 Hip Hop Theme Songs over Credits out of 10 (GOOD)
"Hair of the Dog that bit ya"
An small town alcoholic Deputy in Canada's Great White North is terrible at his job. He drinks, he's late, he's lazy, he's hungover, ...he drinks. But when he gets cursed one night by a cult of shape shifters in the woods he becomes one hairy, scary, extraordinary law enforcement officer!
Granted Wolfcop has a slow start, and until the movie's first transformation kicks in there is a lot of heel dragging and iffy acting (but it's only 78 minutes so hang in there!). Once he transforms (and wait till you see WHAT transforms first), the movie's gore and humor kick it way past its cheapo one-idea script. The make up is dollar store wigs and makeup with some rubber hands so you'll never confuse this with an American Werewolf in London remake (its more along the lines of Canadian WereWolf in Saskatchewan with Strange Brew thrown in for good measure). Fueled by whiskey, driven to serve and protect (or is it sever and project?), Wolfcop is lewd, rude and in the nude with a tasty 1980's horror style and soundtrack (and love scene, ick). Much rougher and ghetto-er than it's Canadian cousin "Hobo With A Shotgun," Wolfcop nonetheless attains coolness as he wolfs down donuts and booze in his tricked out squad car on the icy roads of justice.
Next time team him up with BioCop!
6.5 Hip Hop Theme Songs over Credits out of 10 (GOOD)
Fury (2014)
Fury (R)
"Ideals are peaceful, History is violent"
A ragtag tank crew in the waning years of the European WWII campaign are making the final push into Germany. It's 1945, but the tank finds itself with a new, unwilling recruit. Will they gel as a unit, or will the new blood unwittingly lead to their being "Spam in a Can" in this new war film written and directed by David Ayers (whose biggest claim to fame will still be writing Training Day 2001).
Brad Pitt leads the mostly war-movie-cliche ridden group (Redneck Southerner, Fiery Latino, Piously Religious, Super Green new Guy), while somehow keeping his own Sarge character out of the gutter. He is a calm restrained man who is instantly enraged to murderous "fury" at the sight of enemy SS, cares deeply for his own men whom he physically abuses and feeds day by day and call his tank both home and the best job he ever had. The rest of the cast has Shia LaBeuf using his new found wackiness to fuel his zealotry (and succeeds well), Michael Pena and John Bernthal as the crew vets. but its Logan Lerman (Percy Jackson) as Norman who gets the sub-ripest part as the new guy who soul will soon be stained by warfare. Hesitation and mercy paint his early days in the can, to which his crew mates react without compassion. He cannot understand their willingness for cold blooded killing, but then he hasn't lived through their months of blood and guts, from Africa to France and now into enemy Deutschland, barely surviving together as a rough and tumble family. This is all told through overt actions or reminisces during a calm before the storm, well nuanced and scripted. The action too is a tense, enjoyable affair reminiscent of Das Boot, showing the tank's mechanized machinations from inside out. And yet, despite the thrilling Shermans vs Panzer battle or a couple other nice moments, Fury just can't stay on it's tracks long enough to say or show much of anything important.
First the cinematography is smoky and dull (why go through the effort of smoke strategy in the field of combat when nearly EVERY shot has fog of war and smokepots to create atmosphere?), everything is just dirt and cold steel. When there is a quiet moment of soldiers both forcing themselves onto the civilians and simultaneously being respectful to them, at least the lens has a chance to have a clear line of sight (the visibility in almost every shot is murky as a N64 FPS). It just adds nothing and detracts more. That is doubly true of the soundtrack, a over dramatized, over choir filled affair. The music often is at odds with the scenes, often overrides any subtle emotions the cast was trying to portray, and just plain distracts so often this reviewer was wishing it just wasn't there. The sound design is underwhelming, the realism of living in a steel chambered gunpowder filled deathtrap has almost no audible weight (the tanks in Saving Private Ryan, for instance, were squealing frightening monsters that could be heard for miles). In this regard Fury ist nicht Das Boot, for where are the diesel fumes, the choking smoke, the roaring engines and cramped living conditions? Even the CGI bullet tracers just have a slightly off look to them.
Brad Pitt gives a great performance of an man whose been effected by violence, not by going into shock but by getting angry and perpetrating the cycle. Sure it fits neatly into Pitt's motif of "look at how manly I really am" movie roles, and without Logan's fresh faced Norman to counter balance, the Sarge would be just another example of Pitt takes shirt off, Pitt looks like old dirty photographs, Pitt shaves like the Marlboro man kind of movie. The costume and production design are lovely in a dirt and grit kind of way (Peckinpah would be proud), and the dialogue never traverses into eye rolling tedium and in fact often rings true what with religion and women often coming up in converstaions, but the blah unrealistic visuals and over dramatized soundtrack, the eyes and ears of the piece, drown out the furious steel encased heart of the beast. The man, his machine and his love of destruction.
5.5 Pitt really likes to talk German in WW2 movies out of 10 (MEDIOCRE)
"Ideals are peaceful, History is violent"
A ragtag tank crew in the waning years of the European WWII campaign are making the final push into Germany. It's 1945, but the tank finds itself with a new, unwilling recruit. Will they gel as a unit, or will the new blood unwittingly lead to their being "Spam in a Can" in this new war film written and directed by David Ayers (whose biggest claim to fame will still be writing Training Day 2001).
Brad Pitt leads the mostly war-movie-cliche ridden group (Redneck Southerner, Fiery Latino, Piously Religious, Super Green new Guy), while somehow keeping his own Sarge character out of the gutter. He is a calm restrained man who is instantly enraged to murderous "fury" at the sight of enemy SS, cares deeply for his own men whom he physically abuses and feeds day by day and call his tank both home and the best job he ever had. The rest of the cast has Shia LaBeuf using his new found wackiness to fuel his zealotry (and succeeds well), Michael Pena and John Bernthal as the crew vets. but its Logan Lerman (Percy Jackson) as Norman who gets the sub-ripest part as the new guy who soul will soon be stained by warfare. Hesitation and mercy paint his early days in the can, to which his crew mates react without compassion. He cannot understand their willingness for cold blooded killing, but then he hasn't lived through their months of blood and guts, from Africa to France and now into enemy Deutschland, barely surviving together as a rough and tumble family. This is all told through overt actions or reminisces during a calm before the storm, well nuanced and scripted. The action too is a tense, enjoyable affair reminiscent of Das Boot, showing the tank's mechanized machinations from inside out. And yet, despite the thrilling Shermans vs Panzer battle or a couple other nice moments, Fury just can't stay on it's tracks long enough to say or show much of anything important.
First the cinematography is smoky and dull (why go through the effort of smoke strategy in the field of combat when nearly EVERY shot has fog of war and smokepots to create atmosphere?), everything is just dirt and cold steel. When there is a quiet moment of soldiers both forcing themselves onto the civilians and simultaneously being respectful to them, at least the lens has a chance to have a clear line of sight (the visibility in almost every shot is murky as a N64 FPS). It just adds nothing and detracts more. That is doubly true of the soundtrack, a over dramatized, over choir filled affair. The music often is at odds with the scenes, often overrides any subtle emotions the cast was trying to portray, and just plain distracts so often this reviewer was wishing it just wasn't there. The sound design is underwhelming, the realism of living in a steel chambered gunpowder filled deathtrap has almost no audible weight (the tanks in Saving Private Ryan, for instance, were squealing frightening monsters that could be heard for miles). In this regard Fury ist nicht Das Boot, for where are the diesel fumes, the choking smoke, the roaring engines and cramped living conditions? Even the CGI bullet tracers just have a slightly off look to them.
Brad Pitt gives a great performance of an man whose been effected by violence, not by going into shock but by getting angry and perpetrating the cycle. Sure it fits neatly into Pitt's motif of "look at how manly I really am" movie roles, and without Logan's fresh faced Norman to counter balance, the Sarge would be just another example of Pitt takes shirt off, Pitt looks like old dirty photographs, Pitt shaves like the Marlboro man kind of movie. The costume and production design are lovely in a dirt and grit kind of way (Peckinpah would be proud), and the dialogue never traverses into eye rolling tedium and in fact often rings true what with religion and women often coming up in converstaions, but the blah unrealistic visuals and over dramatized soundtrack, the eyes and ears of the piece, drown out the furious steel encased heart of the beast. The man, his machine and his love of destruction.
5.5 Pitt really likes to talk German in WW2 movies out of 10 (MEDIOCRE)
I, Frankenstein (2014)
I, Frankenstein (PG 13)
"Descend in pain"
Mary Shelly's Frankenstein has been a SciFi zeitgeist from the beginnings of modern media, and her magnum opus is quickly discarded then exploited for a pretentiously slick Action/CGI-laden good vs evil parable from the makers of the Underworld franchise (which are other pretentiously slick Action/CGI-laden good vs evil parables).
What is the story? Typical cookie cutter devils vs angels end-of-humanity story, the twist being instead of angels the good guys are hideous gargoyles, who actually just transform into fashion models in cheap, cheesy Ren Faire costumes.
Frankenstein's monster has had many iterations, from Boris Karloff in clodhoppers to Robert De Niro in furious agony. Most appearances have been hulking wretches with a sympathetic core, misunderstood and menacing. The monster in this update, underplayed by Aaron Eckhardt (Thank You For Smoking), is neither hulking (he's barely taller than most of the actresses) nor a sniveling wretch (he's more of an emo car wreck victim in a hoodie and jeans). While his choices (Batman voice?) and action movie adequacy are certainly up for debate, he is by no means the weakest link here. The entire film is weak links latched to the ghosts of better ideas done better (famous character turned into evil action movie, modern world with a hidden supernatural war, Frankenstein has the name Adam and dresses like a martial arts street skater, oh wait that's I, Frankenstein's one idea and probably it's worst).
If you ever desired to unironically see ol' Vick Frank's Monster in a kung fu training montage, perhaps this is your movie. If you'd rather see writers who create instead of lifting wholesale from the classics with stupid annotations, cinematographers that don't just copy other genre mistakes like Van Helsing, studios that don't rubber stamp dreck after dreck release, then you should stay away from this unanimated corpse of a film. For a movie about a recently dead guy fighting a bedeviled and Bill Nighy (Sean of the Dead) in shoddy prosthetic makeup, there are precious few signs of life and almost zero electricity.
3 Capital Fs out of 10 (BAD)
Need for Speed (2014)
Need For Speed (PG-13)
"The Need for Editing"
Adaption of mid-90s racing videogame staple "The Need for Speed" finds Aaron Paul of Breaking Bad fame behind the wheel of exceedingly expensive muscle cars in a bid to take revenge on his rival for the demise of his ex-girlfriends brother and coworker, whose death he was blamed for. He goes on parole, breaks parole and calls his soon-to-be-British-girlfriend who owns a 3 million dollar Shelby Mustang and proceeds to illegally drive across the country from NY to SF in his bid for vengance against former highschool rival now turned underground racing millionaire celebrity. That's about all the plot that exists in this overlong, over-plot-holed and over-pot-holed road flick.
The film is a hodge podge of everything that could be wrong with a film that will be scrutinized by gear-heads, film-heads or video game fans. Examples include badly scripted characters, including the quirky foriegn accented woman who can recite car statistics like a middle schooler quoting a wikipedia car on horsepower, ooo so empowered! Lighting schemes more distracting than useful with many scenes where the light is extremely artificial looking tied with multiple long closeups during tense driving moments just to spoil the mood! Car physics that defy the laws of, well, you know. Urban driving in souped up EuroUber-cars that is so reckless it would make even the late Ryan Dunn spin in his grave, may he rest in Jack-Ass peace. A thoroughly false sense of reality punctuated by the backfiring blast of unfunny bro-ish hipsterism (both in front and behind the camera), making NFS an exercise in overlong exposure to exhaust fumes with a complete poser at the wheel.
Not that its all skid marks. Aaron Paul's noble attempt at leading man stardom might forever be stunted by Need failure to light up the box office (not as stunted as his facial and vocal range chops, we hope), but he has a certain charm when he's not hoping he looks as cool as Steve McQueen. Then there is the laughably long "emotional" scene of Paul emoting to his "friend"'s fiery death; an emotionally bereft, head grasping, mouth gaping affair. Who is at fault for such a awful film breaking scene, the actor who pulls that face or the director who shoots it in slow motion (or the editor who allows it to linger on screen)? Let's give Paul the benefit of the doubt, he is likable when he is being his natural self. That goes double for the stunts and driving; NFS eschews other racing franchises crutch of CGI car stunts (looking at you recent Fast & Furious') and does it all in camera with real cars to a great grounded effect. The races themselves look good and move well, even if you don't care for those doing it. In fact, besides Paul and his rich co-pilotess played by Imogen Poots (no way that's a stage name!), the cast of actors all have somethings in common. They are all supposed to appeal to a young demographic, are written like stupid frat boys and all have faces that you wouldn't mind see included in a 3-car pile up.
If this movie had trimmed down 15-20 minutes of junk by removing the extraneous "comedy" or "wow cool" bits, focusing instead on the realistic adrenaline junky aspect of speeding down the highway, the movie and its star could have avoided a blowout. Need for Speed even bows to its influences with a nice opening homage to Bullit (1968), one of the most iconic car chases in film history. Unfortunately it soon proceeds a wholesale theft of ideas from decades of other, better car movies (the chained axle cop car from American Graffiti, the evangelical radio DJ from Vanishing Point (with Micheal Keaton, really???), the cross country deadlines and scenery), makes NFS a movie that knows at heart it's unworthy of the legacy, with precious few miles per gallon to show for all the noxious rubber it burns.
4 Refueling with the Car running is a fire hazard guys, especially while going 110 on a highway out of 10 (BAD)
The Hobbit - The Battle of the Five Armies (2014)
The Hobbit - The Battle of the Five Armies (PG-13)
Much like Peter Jackson's previous Tolkien trilogy, the final Hobbit film redeems some of the mistakes and missteps of it's plodding middle chapter. However, unlike closing-trilogy counterpart and Oscar winner Return of the King, Battle of the Five Armies only tries to satisfy the general public's thirst for mindless fantasy action and avoids both critical and fan acclaim. Unfortunately it also grossed over a Billion at the box office, and sadly that is the only measure of success that the studio heads will really pay attention to.
The loose pace-killing threads from the last film are wrapped up early. The burning of Lake Town and the extinguishing of Smaug are quickly (and loosely) wrapped up, leaving the rest of the 2 hours on the eponymous Battle of the Five armies. It is filled with cringe inducing CGI (poor Billy Connolly) over-wrought and misdirected emotions (the evil comedic relief Wormtongue Jr. has a lot to answer for, as does the made-up cliche-yet-still-under-written dwarf/elf romance) However the thing this Hobbit has to answer for most is the prolonged and yawn inducing, Legolas-stuffed battle scenes. Thousands of elves who robotically move in sync are not impressive when they are CG models simply using the same animations.
For the sake of argument lets compare two fight scenes from the two trilogies. Aragorn vs Lurtz from Fellowship and Thorin vs Azog in this one. In the former, a fantastically paced delightfully violent throw down that takes place in a real wooded glen between two actual actors (one in layers of prosthetic makeup), with desperately thrown weapons and thrown punches, a fight that is as brief as it is realistic with a quick yet satisfying conclusion that ranks as one of cinema's greatest fight scenes. Peter Jackson shot that, wrote that, thought it out before hand. Compare that to the video-game-boss level that is Thorin dodging a CG Orc's rock on a chain weapon on top of a frozen waterfall. The prolonged tedious back and forth, the "surprising" twists and turns, the unsatisfying CGI green screening and whimper of a finish. Peter Jackson decided to do it this way, to figure it out later in the computer, and is as completely devoid of realism as it is of satisfaction. While Five Armies does this sort of thing less often than Desolation, it still shows the differences between the two trilogies, and how The Hobbit has amplified those LOTR problems three-fold. Overabundant use of of CG, ego-fueled changes to Tolkien's children's story that perpetuate even more ridiculous changes, and an apparently flimsy grasp on what made the source material so special. And just like Fellowship before it, the first Hobbit was derided as boring since it hewed closest to the book and embraced singing and dancing over more action scenes, a bold faced lie about future faithfulness to the source material.
Disappointing that this is the last cinematic glimpse into the epic world of J.R.R;s master life-work. It has almost no emotional closure beyond "Well That Happened and can't be undone." Where is the sad longing for more like a the end of King? Replacing it is the profound feeling of "Thank god they can't screw this up any further." Of course, with dangling potential ticket sales and the untapped novel The Silmarillion, who knows what middling film Middle Earth could vaguely inspire next.
4.5 Weeping Dwarfs Tearing their own Beards out of 10 (MEDICORE)
Much like Peter Jackson's previous Tolkien trilogy, the final Hobbit film redeems some of the mistakes and missteps of it's plodding middle chapter. However, unlike closing-trilogy counterpart and Oscar winner Return of the King, Battle of the Five Armies only tries to satisfy the general public's thirst for mindless fantasy action and avoids both critical and fan acclaim. Unfortunately it also grossed over a Billion at the box office, and sadly that is the only measure of success that the studio heads will really pay attention to.
The loose pace-killing threads from the last film are wrapped up early. The burning of Lake Town and the extinguishing of Smaug are quickly (and loosely) wrapped up, leaving the rest of the 2 hours on the eponymous Battle of the Five armies. It is filled with cringe inducing CGI (poor Billy Connolly) over-wrought and misdirected emotions (the evil comedic relief Wormtongue Jr. has a lot to answer for, as does the made-up cliche-yet-still-under-written dwarf/elf romance) However the thing this Hobbit has to answer for most is the prolonged and yawn inducing, Legolas-stuffed battle scenes. Thousands of elves who robotically move in sync are not impressive when they are CG models simply using the same animations.
For the sake of argument lets compare two fight scenes from the two trilogies. Aragorn vs Lurtz from Fellowship and Thorin vs Azog in this one. In the former, a fantastically paced delightfully violent throw down that takes place in a real wooded glen between two actual actors (one in layers of prosthetic makeup), with desperately thrown weapons and thrown punches, a fight that is as brief as it is realistic with a quick yet satisfying conclusion that ranks as one of cinema's greatest fight scenes. Peter Jackson shot that, wrote that, thought it out before hand. Compare that to the video-game-boss level that is Thorin dodging a CG Orc's rock on a chain weapon on top of a frozen waterfall. The prolonged tedious back and forth, the "surprising" twists and turns, the unsatisfying CGI green screening and whimper of a finish. Peter Jackson decided to do it this way, to figure it out later in the computer, and is as completely devoid of realism as it is of satisfaction. While Five Armies does this sort of thing less often than Desolation, it still shows the differences between the two trilogies, and how The Hobbit has amplified those LOTR problems three-fold. Overabundant use of of CG, ego-fueled changes to Tolkien's children's story that perpetuate even more ridiculous changes, and an apparently flimsy grasp on what made the source material so special. And just like Fellowship before it, the first Hobbit was derided as boring since it hewed closest to the book and embraced singing and dancing over more action scenes, a bold faced lie about future faithfulness to the source material.
Disappointing that this is the last cinematic glimpse into the epic world of J.R.R;s master life-work. It has almost no emotional closure beyond "Well That Happened and can't be undone." Where is the sad longing for more like a the end of King? Replacing it is the profound feeling of "Thank god they can't screw this up any further." Of course, with dangling potential ticket sales and the untapped novel The Silmarillion, who knows what middling film Middle Earth could vaguely inspire next.
4.5 Weeping Dwarfs Tearing their own Beards out of 10 (MEDICORE)
It Follows (2014)
It Follows (R)
A College student enters into a new sexual relationship which leads her to a new life of terror in the anxiety ridden yet only subjectively effective It Follows.
Indy Horror can be a mixed bag, for when something goodish comes around the starving fan base and critics fall over themselves to fawn. And while the dream like pulse-pounding instinctual fear of the first third of the movie is wonderful film making that retains a gorgeous cinematographic look of suburban Detroit and its surrounding environs, the creep comes to an abrupt halt about half way through and then continues to dig it's own grave by breaking it's already established rules and being obviously obtuse.
There is still a lot interesting here and if the movie lived up to it's first half then it would indeed be the "scariest movie of the decade." Well, considering the decade it still might be, for it's not the 80s anymore. It Follows has a preternatural fear instilled in it, the feeling of being stalked is captured vividly, hackles will rise. Inspired by dreams the film maker had as a child, the way the camera moves and the antagonist's slow pursuit will set off the alarm bells in your head and heart. Good acting, odd production values and strange music (the synth sounds, old tube televisions, big back seated cars and no cell phones are invoking a 70s-80s spin on the present that homages back to the genre's and filmmaker's roots), its all an elaborate technique to throw the audience into a unknown situation filled with panic, forcing them to scan the screen constantly for the bad guy. It's a slow, terrifying trip that ends too soon.
For then there is that scene on the beach and the specter of supernatural CG on a shoe string budget snaps the suspension of belief. When they come into actual physical contact the buzz and creep and anxiety melts away as it becomes another "YAs vs. the thing movie." Suddenly "It Follows" stops following its own urgent rules and just literally stands and stares instead. It was a fantastic premise that unfortunately someone had to write a semi-commercial ending for. It's not bad, it just isn't as strong as what followed.
And yet the first half is stellar, the look and work of the camera stunning, the emotional under pinning of parental child-abuse (physical and sexual), the dangers of sensual awakenings and the prepubescent fear of sex, so much works and all hackles were risen. Yet while the ending turns out to be a simple parable (me and you against the world, baby) the film will probably have you looking over your shoulder for a couple days, and that might earn "It Follows" a place in your nightmares, just not the history books.
7 Soggy Arm Casts out of 10 (GOOD)
A College student enters into a new sexual relationship which leads her to a new life of terror in the anxiety ridden yet only subjectively effective It Follows.
Indy Horror can be a mixed bag, for when something goodish comes around the starving fan base and critics fall over themselves to fawn. And while the dream like pulse-pounding instinctual fear of the first third of the movie is wonderful film making that retains a gorgeous cinematographic look of suburban Detroit and its surrounding environs, the creep comes to an abrupt halt about half way through and then continues to dig it's own grave by breaking it's already established rules and being obviously obtuse.
There is still a lot interesting here and if the movie lived up to it's first half then it would indeed be the "scariest movie of the decade." Well, considering the decade it still might be, for it's not the 80s anymore. It Follows has a preternatural fear instilled in it, the feeling of being stalked is captured vividly, hackles will rise. Inspired by dreams the film maker had as a child, the way the camera moves and the antagonist's slow pursuit will set off the alarm bells in your head and heart. Good acting, odd production values and strange music (the synth sounds, old tube televisions, big back seated cars and no cell phones are invoking a 70s-80s spin on the present that homages back to the genre's and filmmaker's roots), its all an elaborate technique to throw the audience into a unknown situation filled with panic, forcing them to scan the screen constantly for the bad guy. It's a slow, terrifying trip that ends too soon.
For then there is that scene on the beach and the specter of supernatural CG on a shoe string budget snaps the suspension of belief. When they come into actual physical contact the buzz and creep and anxiety melts away as it becomes another "YAs vs. the thing movie." Suddenly "It Follows" stops following its own urgent rules and just literally stands and stares instead. It was a fantastic premise that unfortunately someone had to write a semi-commercial ending for. It's not bad, it just isn't as strong as what followed.
And yet the first half is stellar, the look and work of the camera stunning, the emotional under pinning of parental child-abuse (physical and sexual), the dangers of sensual awakenings and the prepubescent fear of sex, so much works and all hackles were risen. Yet while the ending turns out to be a simple parable (me and you against the world, baby) the film will probably have you looking over your shoulder for a couple days, and that might earn "It Follows" a place in your nightmares, just not the history books.
7 Soggy Arm Casts out of 10 (GOOD)
Guardians Of The Galaxy (2014)
Guardians Of The Galaxy (PG-13)
"Hooked on a feeling"
The MCU dives into its funky cosmic side with a swaggering explosion filled romp that is as irreverent as it is irrelevant, raucously audacious enough to break its own molds and yet offering only simple lower class pleasures with a cast so utterly charming that audiences will have to shrug off any misgivings, even though they are watching a Marvel stepping stone to the great film that may someday come.
Chris Pratt's (The Lego Movie) patented brand of doe-eyed mischievousness fills the role of Star-Lord Peter Quill to the brim, creating a sensational addition to the archetype SciFi oversexed treasure-hunting rouge, overflowing with snarktastic bon mots and anachronisms from his departed Earthly mother's love of 70s pop music mixtapes The rest of the crew is stocked with unusual weirdos-banding-together types; Bradley Cooper (The Hangover) is a CGI Space-Raccoon with a violent love of firearms, his close companion is a space tree voiced by Vin Diesel (Riddick) who can only utter the words "I am Groot", Drax the Destroyer is a musclebound straight-shooter without an ounce of irony played by former WWE champion Bautista, and the adopted daughter of the villainous Thanos (remember him from the Avengers post credit sequence?), the soon-to-be-girlfriended assassin Gamora played by Zoe Saldana (2009 Star Trek).
The runtime of GOTG entails the finding of a mysterious orb, infighting over the orb, having to escape from space prison with orb, try to sell the orb without pirate intrusion, having the orb stolen by the bad guy Ronan the Accuser who intends to blow up a planet with the orb only to have the Guardians try to guard against it. It's really not Shakespeare or Asimov, but its filled with improvisational humor and rowdy fun that is greatly increased by a sunny musicality that overpowers the film's often brutally grim vibe. GOTG's largest saving grace is that ragtag crew; their banter is naturalistic and wonderfully contains a solid dose of the PG13 bad words. It's the best SciFi spaceopera ship and it's crew since the original Star Wars 1977, but hold onto your space horses buckaroos. Everything isn't all Attack Ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion, even if the open-shirted Han Solo swagger cons you into starry eyed distraction.
The action doesn't come through with much impact or heft, sad to say the fight scenes feel almost unrehearsed (that was attempted to be glossed over with CG that overall also wasn't of the highest grade). The Collector (first seen in Thor 2) is once again played by the incomparable Benicio del Toro (Way of the Gun), whose over the top performance and alien mannerisms are sadly underused with little screen time, what there is is great stuff. Same goes for the incredible casting of ensemble comedian John C. Reilly (Boogie Nights) as a Nova Corps officer who briefly gets a moment to shine. Ok, so the film really just wants to point the lazer-spotlight on Quill and company (understandable), but meanwhile the cardboard villain Ronan gets almost zero backstory and so little motivation for his genocidal quest that he is one easily upped by the all-to-brief appearance of Thanos (who all Marvelites know to be the overall heavy in some faroff film that will be made...later). There is just so much underused material from the Cosmic Marvel Universe (encompassing all the biggest and most creative stories from the books, especially those by Jim Starling), that to throw the audience into it without explanation is understandable yet still a shame. While this is obviously a specific choice to avoid the morass of that insane big picture, completely leaving it unsaid leaves the film one of the lightest piece in the Marvel Film Puzzle. There's nothing wrong with light entertainment, but those seeking even a little Space Odyssey in their Cosmos won't find any.
Still, without hesitation it is a very fun romp in a Galaxy far far away, the first real spiritual successor of the original Star Wars film married with the whimsical tone and aesthetic of the Original Star Trek palette (dayglo skin tones mixed with candy colored backgrounds). They caught a special magic lightning in the bottle with this crew (except for overall blankness of Zoe's portrayal and role), but the adventure is a straightforward affair that offers almost nothing surprising (the spaceprison escape, for example, can be found in any number of pulp SciFi paperbacks rotting away in your brothers basement). However the biggest detractor, for this critic, would be that in the overall series that comprises the entire MCU, Guardians can only be considered a filler or time killer episode. Bereft of the the enormous Cosmic events that Marvel has been hinting at and fans have been slavering for, it onl teases yet again at the epic things to come (The Infinity Gems!). This too is understandable, Disney/Marvel are biding their time and dreaming of the cash that Avengers 2 or 3 or 4 (or Thor3, The Defenders, WHEN???) will make, as opposed to betting on the noname also-run like GOTG. As admirable as it is for Marv and team to even consider releasing a Guardians film at all (it's source material is the stuff of bargain bins and heavy-nerd cult followings), the buildup for something REALLY big and overarching is over 6 years old now. Perhaps this is expecting too much from a studio that has consistently overdelivered on almost all of their films (the boxoffice returns and lack of a critical bomb is supremely impressive in this day and age), but it is Marvel/Disney's fault if we are left wanting more, better and now, especially considering the stories are there, foreshadowed and ripe for the harvesting. Instead we get baby steps, now we know there is another gem and Thanos wants them supposedly.
Director James Gunn (also of 2010s Super, a much unappreciated indy satire of the comicbook medium) cribs a plethora of shortcuts from SciFi Space Operas that have come before, but is sorely lacking in actual action direction experience. The banter though, is sublime and works as well as any recent bro-comedy action film, like Channing/Hill except in space. Gunn squeezes so much fun and humor onto the screen that the zipping lazers and spaceship dying fireballs are not what you leave the film with an impression of. It is Pratt, dialing up his middle finger to his b-character typecasting, kicking up his heels with his walkman to retro tunes as he picks our pockets for popcorn money. All thanks to the Spirit In The Sky.
7.5 Big Blue Wrinkled Chins out of 10 (GOOD)
"Hooked on a feeling"
The MCU dives into its funky cosmic side with a swaggering explosion filled romp that is as irreverent as it is irrelevant, raucously audacious enough to break its own molds and yet offering only simple lower class pleasures with a cast so utterly charming that audiences will have to shrug off any misgivings, even though they are watching a Marvel stepping stone to the great film that may someday come.
Chris Pratt's (The Lego Movie) patented brand of doe-eyed mischievousness fills the role of Star-Lord Peter Quill to the brim, creating a sensational addition to the archetype SciFi oversexed treasure-hunting rouge, overflowing with snarktastic bon mots and anachronisms from his departed Earthly mother's love of 70s pop music mixtapes The rest of the crew is stocked with unusual weirdos-banding-together types; Bradley Cooper (The Hangover) is a CGI Space-Raccoon with a violent love of firearms, his close companion is a space tree voiced by Vin Diesel (Riddick) who can only utter the words "I am Groot", Drax the Destroyer is a musclebound straight-shooter without an ounce of irony played by former WWE champion Bautista, and the adopted daughter of the villainous Thanos (remember him from the Avengers post credit sequence?), the soon-to-be-girlfriended assassin Gamora played by Zoe Saldana (2009 Star Trek).
The runtime of GOTG entails the finding of a mysterious orb, infighting over the orb, having to escape from space prison with orb, try to sell the orb without pirate intrusion, having the orb stolen by the bad guy Ronan the Accuser who intends to blow up a planet with the orb only to have the Guardians try to guard against it. It's really not Shakespeare or Asimov, but its filled with improvisational humor and rowdy fun that is greatly increased by a sunny musicality that overpowers the film's often brutally grim vibe. GOTG's largest saving grace is that ragtag crew; their banter is naturalistic and wonderfully contains a solid dose of the PG13 bad words. It's the best SciFi spaceopera ship and it's crew since the original Star Wars 1977, but hold onto your space horses buckaroos. Everything isn't all Attack Ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion, even if the open-shirted Han Solo swagger cons you into starry eyed distraction.
The action doesn't come through with much impact or heft, sad to say the fight scenes feel almost unrehearsed (that was attempted to be glossed over with CG that overall also wasn't of the highest grade). The Collector (first seen in Thor 2) is once again played by the incomparable Benicio del Toro (Way of the Gun), whose over the top performance and alien mannerisms are sadly underused with little screen time, what there is is great stuff. Same goes for the incredible casting of ensemble comedian John C. Reilly (Boogie Nights) as a Nova Corps officer who briefly gets a moment to shine. Ok, so the film really just wants to point the lazer-spotlight on Quill and company (understandable), but meanwhile the cardboard villain Ronan gets almost zero backstory and so little motivation for his genocidal quest that he is one easily upped by the all-to-brief appearance of Thanos (who all Marvelites know to be the overall heavy in some faroff film that will be made...later). There is just so much underused material from the Cosmic Marvel Universe (encompassing all the biggest and most creative stories from the books, especially those by Jim Starling), that to throw the audience into it without explanation is understandable yet still a shame. While this is obviously a specific choice to avoid the morass of that insane big picture, completely leaving it unsaid leaves the film one of the lightest piece in the Marvel Film Puzzle. There's nothing wrong with light entertainment, but those seeking even a little Space Odyssey in their Cosmos won't find any.
Still, without hesitation it is a very fun romp in a Galaxy far far away, the first real spiritual successor of the original Star Wars film married with the whimsical tone and aesthetic of the Original Star Trek palette (dayglo skin tones mixed with candy colored backgrounds). They caught a special magic lightning in the bottle with this crew (except for overall blankness of Zoe's portrayal and role), but the adventure is a straightforward affair that offers almost nothing surprising (the spaceprison escape, for example, can be found in any number of pulp SciFi paperbacks rotting away in your brothers basement). However the biggest detractor, for this critic, would be that in the overall series that comprises the entire MCU, Guardians can only be considered a filler or time killer episode. Bereft of the the enormous Cosmic events that Marvel has been hinting at and fans have been slavering for, it onl teases yet again at the epic things to come (The Infinity Gems!). This too is understandable, Disney/Marvel are biding their time and dreaming of the cash that Avengers 2 or 3 or 4 (or Thor3, The Defenders, WHEN???) will make, as opposed to betting on the noname also-run like GOTG. As admirable as it is for Marv and team to even consider releasing a Guardians film at all (it's source material is the stuff of bargain bins and heavy-nerd cult followings), the buildup for something REALLY big and overarching is over 6 years old now. Perhaps this is expecting too much from a studio that has consistently overdelivered on almost all of their films (the boxoffice returns and lack of a critical bomb is supremely impressive in this day and age), but it is Marvel/Disney's fault if we are left wanting more, better and now, especially considering the stories are there, foreshadowed and ripe for the harvesting. Instead we get baby steps, now we know there is another gem and Thanos wants them supposedly.
Director James Gunn (also of 2010s Super, a much unappreciated indy satire of the comicbook medium) cribs a plethora of shortcuts from SciFi Space Operas that have come before, but is sorely lacking in actual action direction experience. The banter though, is sublime and works as well as any recent bro-comedy action film, like Channing/Hill except in space. Gunn squeezes so much fun and humor onto the screen that the zipping lazers and spaceship dying fireballs are not what you leave the film with an impression of. It is Pratt, dialing up his middle finger to his b-character typecasting, kicking up his heels with his walkman to retro tunes as he picks our pockets for popcorn money. All thanks to the Spirit In The Sky.
7.5 Big Blue Wrinkled Chins out of 10 (GOOD)
Mr. Turner (2014)
Mr. Turner (R)
"Carmine Curmudgeon"
Mr. Turner tells of the later years of the famous English seascape painter JMW Turner, a man already famous for his genius at capturing the play of light on the sea on canvas. Played by grunting, rutting actor John Spall, Turner comes to life as a complicated and driven artist whose eccentricity is reflected in a purposely eccentric screenplay with fantastic photography and a meandering run time. Mr. Turner is certainly not everyone's cup of tea.
Going through his latter years, impacted by the loss of his father, becoming more and more reviled by the general public due to his evolving aesthetic (surreal and impressionistic, modern art before its time), Mr. Turner (the movie) is not your usual biographical film. It explains nearly nothing, leaves its audience to either know the backstory or not, leaves you to pick up the pieces from scraps of dialogue and hints of character. It's a challenging and long film, but as in most fiction a character is formed in the viewer's mind that is stronger than any exposition, and as gross or vulgar you may find Turner he is also as warm and compassionate sketch of a human. While incomplete as a biography, it none the less is entirely complete picture of a man, his wants and what drives him. Lashing himself to a mast to get a better look at a snow storm at sea, fiddling with the maid, sketching a prostitute, grieving the loss of his father, Turner is as complete a character study as is humanly possible. The blemishes and wrinkles of his life are on full display, and yet so is his unique English ways, his pride, his sorrows and artistic triumphs. Mr. Turner is not painted with broad strokes, but tiny flicks of the wrist that glorify and obfuscate the canvas of his life in a complicated and rich manner, in whom many will see the flawed nature and beauty of man mirrored as upon a calm lake at morning time.
7 Hog Jowls and History out of 10 (GOOD)
"Carmine Curmudgeon"
Mr. Turner tells of the later years of the famous English seascape painter JMW Turner, a man already famous for his genius at capturing the play of light on the sea on canvas. Played by grunting, rutting actor John Spall, Turner comes to life as a complicated and driven artist whose eccentricity is reflected in a purposely eccentric screenplay with fantastic photography and a meandering run time. Mr. Turner is certainly not everyone's cup of tea.
Going through his latter years, impacted by the loss of his father, becoming more and more reviled by the general public due to his evolving aesthetic (surreal and impressionistic, modern art before its time), Mr. Turner (the movie) is not your usual biographical film. It explains nearly nothing, leaves its audience to either know the backstory or not, leaves you to pick up the pieces from scraps of dialogue and hints of character. It's a challenging and long film, but as in most fiction a character is formed in the viewer's mind that is stronger than any exposition, and as gross or vulgar you may find Turner he is also as warm and compassionate sketch of a human. While incomplete as a biography, it none the less is entirely complete picture of a man, his wants and what drives him. Lashing himself to a mast to get a better look at a snow storm at sea, fiddling with the maid, sketching a prostitute, grieving the loss of his father, Turner is as complete a character study as is humanly possible. The blemishes and wrinkles of his life are on full display, and yet so is his unique English ways, his pride, his sorrows and artistic triumphs. Mr. Turner is not painted with broad strokes, but tiny flicks of the wrist that glorify and obfuscate the canvas of his life in a complicated and rich manner, in whom many will see the flawed nature and beauty of man mirrored as upon a calm lake at morning time.
7 Hog Jowls and History out of 10 (GOOD)
Foxcatcher (2015)
Foxcatcher (R)
"I love wrestling. I love lamp."
A gloomy, true-life account of the wrestling Shultz brothers who get entangled into the strange lifestyle and obsessions of rich philanthropist John L. Du Pont, who has obsessive ambitions about family, Olympic gold medals and the brothers own attentions. Written and directed by Bennett Miller (Capote, Moneyball), Foxcatcher is an understated nightmare of atmosphere and obsession, all the more startling considering it's true nature.
Beyond the fantastic cinematography and production design, Foxcatcher is first and foremost a transformation of it's actors. Gone is Channing Tatum's usual bro-riffic humor and charm and in its stead is a brooding dullard, hidden is Mark Ruffalo's easygoing style and grace which is covered with caveman lumber and brutality, and funny man Steve Carell's lycanthropic transformation is a combination of stiff prosthetic noses and open mouth acting that leaves you expecting a DailyShow break of character that will never come. What is left on the camera is a humorless gloom that settles on these unfortunate men that rivets you to your seat in anticipation for some kind of event, which when it comes (and being unaware of the actual events depicted) still leaves you slack jawed and unprepared. A great piece of cinema, almost a perfect combination of Bennett's previous strengths, and a great opportunity for a few perhaps type-cast actors to break out of their usual roles.
8 Wrestling is such an easy target for Homoerotic Subtext out of 10 (GREAT)
"I love wrestling. I love lamp."
A gloomy, true-life account of the wrestling Shultz brothers who get entangled into the strange lifestyle and obsessions of rich philanthropist John L. Du Pont, who has obsessive ambitions about family, Olympic gold medals and the brothers own attentions. Written and directed by Bennett Miller (Capote, Moneyball), Foxcatcher is an understated nightmare of atmosphere and obsession, all the more startling considering it's true nature.
Beyond the fantastic cinematography and production design, Foxcatcher is first and foremost a transformation of it's actors. Gone is Channing Tatum's usual bro-riffic humor and charm and in its stead is a brooding dullard, hidden is Mark Ruffalo's easygoing style and grace which is covered with caveman lumber and brutality, and funny man Steve Carell's lycanthropic transformation is a combination of stiff prosthetic noses and open mouth acting that leaves you expecting a DailyShow break of character that will never come. What is left on the camera is a humorless gloom that settles on these unfortunate men that rivets you to your seat in anticipation for some kind of event, which when it comes (and being unaware of the actual events depicted) still leaves you slack jawed and unprepared. A great piece of cinema, almost a perfect combination of Bennett's previous strengths, and a great opportunity for a few perhaps type-cast actors to break out of their usual roles.
8 Wrestling is such an easy target for Homoerotic Subtext out of 10 (GREAT)
22 Jump Street (2014)
22 Jump Street (R) - Review
"If your friends jumped from a bridge...?"
The unlikely duo of Shmidt and Jenko are back and doing the same thing all over again in this improvisational sequel to the surprise 2012 hit. Jonah Hill (Wolf of Wall Street) and Channing Tatum (Side Effects) team up under perpetual grump Ice Cube to once again fight drugs, except now in college. Spoofing the cliches and overdone plot points of movie sequels themselves (returning supporting characters, expanded budgets, reworked plots), 22J is a self-referential snark that will make you laugh out loud. Yet some of the liquid gold has leaked from this franchise's Red Solo cup, draining it down to a just above average adult beverage from the overflowing bounty of the original.
"Same thing, again" apparently didn't make its way to the script department, for where the first film eschewed traditional remakes by lampooning characters/plots with outrageous improv comedy and smart twists on High School clique conventions, 22 toes the line of "college movie" tropes, drunk Frat boy jocks and wimpy Art School intellectuals that are standard issue college flick trope since the 1980s. Jenko and Shmidt suffer the 1st sequel blues (on purpose and as predicted right from the start by scruff-machismo-meister Nick Offerman), and the action feels a bit lacking despite the onscreen winks to doubled budgets. Even the original cast member cameo is reduced to a while-credits-roll one liner, and there are a stunning number of laughs locked into that credit sequence, where Hollywood franchises are met with scorn as future inevitable titles are screamed past the audience (23, 33,34,44, etc). Perhaps the pathos of their bromance breakup goes on too long, perhaps the action never lives up to the promised sequelitis of "same but bigger", perhaps the Spring Break sequence should have been expanded into more of a third act focus on skewering Hollywoodized college life instead of just a limited set piece. Jokes like "Art Degree? You won't make much money with that" and a slew of tired Old Jokes (mostly performed by actors who also aren't College age) show off the semi-lazy writing here. This is in stark contrast to the cool freshness of 21, but the charm and fun of Channing and Hill elevate the somewhat average semester, and if you laugh hard enough you'll still be able to get a nice buzz from the contact high.
6.5 Trash Compactors of Sadness out of 10 (GOOD)
"If your friends jumped from a bridge...?"
The unlikely duo of Shmidt and Jenko are back and doing the same thing all over again in this improvisational sequel to the surprise 2012 hit. Jonah Hill (Wolf of Wall Street) and Channing Tatum (Side Effects) team up under perpetual grump Ice Cube to once again fight drugs, except now in college. Spoofing the cliches and overdone plot points of movie sequels themselves (returning supporting characters, expanded budgets, reworked plots), 22J is a self-referential snark that will make you laugh out loud. Yet some of the liquid gold has leaked from this franchise's Red Solo cup, draining it down to a just above average adult beverage from the overflowing bounty of the original.
"Same thing, again" apparently didn't make its way to the script department, for where the first film eschewed traditional remakes by lampooning characters/plots with outrageous improv comedy and smart twists on High School clique conventions, 22 toes the line of "college movie" tropes, drunk Frat boy jocks and wimpy Art School intellectuals that are standard issue college flick trope since the 1980s. Jenko and Shmidt suffer the 1st sequel blues (on purpose and as predicted right from the start by scruff-machismo-meister Nick Offerman), and the action feels a bit lacking despite the onscreen winks to doubled budgets. Even the original cast member cameo is reduced to a while-credits-roll one liner, and there are a stunning number of laughs locked into that credit sequence, where Hollywood franchises are met with scorn as future inevitable titles are screamed past the audience (23, 33,34,44, etc). Perhaps the pathos of their bromance breakup goes on too long, perhaps the action never lives up to the promised sequelitis of "same but bigger", perhaps the Spring Break sequence should have been expanded into more of a third act focus on skewering Hollywoodized college life instead of just a limited set piece. Jokes like "Art Degree? You won't make much money with that" and a slew of tired Old Jokes (mostly performed by actors who also aren't College age) show off the semi-lazy writing here. This is in stark contrast to the cool freshness of 21, but the charm and fun of Channing and Hill elevate the somewhat average semester, and if you laugh hard enough you'll still be able to get a nice buzz from the contact high.
6.5 Trash Compactors of Sadness out of 10 (GOOD)
X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014)
X-Men: Days of Future Past (PG13) Review
“Fleece with Honor”
Loosely based on the Marvel comics franchise and the issues
by the same name, this entry tells the story of the X-Teams in two separate
time lines. One is the X-ElderstatesMen,
a team lead by an elderly Professor X and Magneto in a grim cataclysmic future
where their only hope is to send back Wolverine’s (Hugh Jackman, natch) spirit
to the past to prevent their downfall.
The other are a young team of X-Babies (from 2011’s Xmen: First Class), now
living in an idyllic 1970s America that has just lost the Vietnam war and
retained a President Nixon.
Taking what worked from First Class (the fresh brood of
actors and fresh story ideas/period pieces) and mixing it with the best of rest
of the X-Franchise (Director Singer, high quality CGI, rock solid casting and
lack of Brett Ratner influence) results in a movie with unfortunately more good
ideas than good action. Highlights
include an underused Quicksilver’s rakish youth zipping through a room of guards
all the while listening to 70s arena rock, a surprising amount of death by
robot dismemberment and a rich tapestry of X-history enabling call backs to
nearly every film entry in the series, but most tellingly the biggest highlight
of the film is the blessed lack of a lowlight. However the Fox X-Men Cinematic Universe is a far shade of grey from the excellently treated and carefully planned Marvel Universe, even the bumpers here don't properly lead into the next movie.
Singer himself once again paves over plot holes with pageantry, over
explains with flash backs but nails the Funky 70s while also avoiding tired
clichés. Yet an undercurrent of
unfocused narrative and studio-driven emphasis pervade the picture. For instance the obvious fetishisation and
idolization of blue-meanie Mystique (a continuance from previous films) rises
to strange new heights. Now superstar
Jennifer Lawrence’s blood is the perfect weapon to be used against her own kind,
and all her amazing kung fu and near-onscreen nakedness aren't going to stop
both sides from fighting over her (just as we, the basement dwelling comic
geeks, surely must wipe our chins over her).
We are treated to even more true blue glimpses of Mystique’s physique, slightly
tempered by slipping in a sly Zapruder-film reference. This reliance on Star Power T&A trumps any
real plot development and feels like a real speed bump for the film’s ability
to evolve into something at the top of the food chain.
The X-Gang’s all here, both versions with good chemistry,
both anchored by Hugh Jackman’s fan favorite Wolverine. Yet all these metaphysical beings end up
doing is sitting on airplanes or darkened rooms and discussing the “well, whats
next?” exposition. They look good, they
feel good in the roles, and the action when it happens looks good. Yet where is the gravitas of the situation, the
tension should be a fear of extinction yet the only emotion the Old Team seem
to be able to drum up is an apparent fear of razors. The future is just a world that blew a fuse
and no one can find the flashlight, a dusty abandoned temple is 90% of our view
into this supposed “nightmare future”.
The past says it’s the 70s (remember ‘Nam and JFK???), but how about
showing the actual racial tensions that were rampant in that day and age, that
actually inspired creator Stan Lee to write this silly comic book that addressed
the taboo topic of racial prejudice by wrapping it in goofy mutated genes and
unlimited super powers yarn.
XM:DOFP ends up a completely unchallenging viewing
experience, slurped through a straw by an audience so thirsty for any decent
X-related material that it will gladly smack its lips at the treacle-y
high-fructose aftertaste, completely unperturbed by its empty caloric content. Mostly Adequate Soap Operatic Sci-Fi with
flashes of brilliance is built into its X-genes, being present in decades of
Marvel Comics continuity paradoxes, and it doesn't look like the studios are
going to break that mold anytime soon, even if they did just rewrite its entire universe a la the Star Trek reboot.
7 Where’s My Stan Lee Walk On??? out of 10 (GOOD)
Godzilla (2014)
Godzilla (PG-13) - Review
"You have a right to know!"
When Giant Radioactive Monsters devastate the East and West Pacific Rim, where does humanity turn to rescue it from the threat? Why none other than the King of Monsters, Godzilla, a prehistoric mutant of enormous proportions whose only rhyme or reason is wrestling with other nuclear fueled tyrants.
Finally washing away the stink of Emmerich's unwise 1998 version, Godzilla 2014 stays almost too true to the Japanese Kaiju mythos as it combines an authentic Godzilla movie elevated above the man-in-rubber-suit constraints of the Toho regime thanks to Hollywood blockbuster status. While it doesn't all add up to perfection and may not please everyone, long term Godzilla fans can breath a collective radioactive sigh of relief at this solidly entertaining outing.
The beginning of the film is almost a retcon of 1999s version, finding a scientific team headed by Ken Watanabe in the Philippines discovering ancient enormous fossils (the bones of a Godzilla relative and a pair of it's parasites). A short time later, the family of Bryan Cranston (Breaking Bad) faces tragedy when the Japanese Nuclear Power Plant he works for melts down under mysterious circumstances. 15 years later and his son (Aaron Taylor Johnson from Kick Ass) must plunge back into the monstrous mystery as he plays a crucial role in the epic events unfolding, this time on US soil. His family and country try to survive the epic clash as Monsters once again roam the Earth.
The film is at its heart an epic-level human disaster movie and derives its terror from references to both the 2011 Fukushima reactor explosion and the 2004 Indonesian Tsunami tragedy. Human life is a frail thing compared to these ancient primordial life forms who can swat us aside like gnats, feed off our worst radioactive bi-products and wrestle 50 stories above us. When the final confrontation occurs (and be patient it does occur), a San Francisco leveling brawl takes place with us tiny humans scrambling to save as many of ourselves as possible. Director Gareth Edwards excels, previously made the full-of-potential low budget indie film "Monsters", and here he is liberated from his penny pinching but not from the groundings of simple entertainment desires.
The American touches are mostly complementary. The film's audio design is outstanding and yet referential to the originals, the score is perfectly dark and smokey (so happy to have a touch of Requiem from 2001 ASO in there), the monsters look and feel very traditional to the old Toho design and yet without its cartoonishness or lack of mass. There is a moment in the film where pudgy CGI Godzilla looks into the camera and lets out one long continuous roar that goes on for much longer than is comfortable, announcing his intentions to finally kick monster ass. It is a delightfully self aware touch to a movie that for most people just needs to be about giant rubber monsters flailing about, and that is perhaps where it falls shortest. There are many instances of teasing the audience ala Cloverfield, cutting away from Monster action in an effort to prolong tension (something the Japanese could never be accused of). It delays and delays until it can't delay any further and must allow the beasts full screen mayhem. While moderately successful at creating anticipation, the technique may leave some audiences feeling slighted leaving as it does most of the action in the hands of its human actors. However, the humans having a larger role than anticipated is a staple of most Japanese Godzilla films and can be forgiven, and if only the filmmakers had found some wonderful middle ground between featuring humans/monsters then this could have been the perfect Godzilla. In fact the entire film reads like a Godzilla fans almost wet dream, with all the military "toys" and their dumb as a rock military plans, all the small children in peril, without the need to get gory or talk down to its audience. It all adds up to a Godzilla that we have never seen before, with an Indy sensibility behind the camera and an efficient intelligence behind its script, leaving us with an experience that is an uninterrupted echo of monsters through a darkened theater, reverberating off the ruined skyscrapers and felt curtains as they grind civilization to dust in their lumbering awake.
8 Godjira's out of 10 (GREAT)
"You have a right to know!"
When Giant Radioactive Monsters devastate the East and West Pacific Rim, where does humanity turn to rescue it from the threat? Why none other than the King of Monsters, Godzilla, a prehistoric mutant of enormous proportions whose only rhyme or reason is wrestling with other nuclear fueled tyrants.
Finally washing away the stink of Emmerich's unwise 1998 version, Godzilla 2014 stays almost too true to the Japanese Kaiju mythos as it combines an authentic Godzilla movie elevated above the man-in-rubber-suit constraints of the Toho regime thanks to Hollywood blockbuster status. While it doesn't all add up to perfection and may not please everyone, long term Godzilla fans can breath a collective radioactive sigh of relief at this solidly entertaining outing.
The beginning of the film is almost a retcon of 1999s version, finding a scientific team headed by Ken Watanabe in the Philippines discovering ancient enormous fossils (the bones of a Godzilla relative and a pair of it's parasites). A short time later, the family of Bryan Cranston (Breaking Bad) faces tragedy when the Japanese Nuclear Power Plant he works for melts down under mysterious circumstances. 15 years later and his son (Aaron Taylor Johnson from Kick Ass) must plunge back into the monstrous mystery as he plays a crucial role in the epic events unfolding, this time on US soil. His family and country try to survive the epic clash as Monsters once again roam the Earth.
The film is at its heart an epic-level human disaster movie and derives its terror from references to both the 2011 Fukushima reactor explosion and the 2004 Indonesian Tsunami tragedy. Human life is a frail thing compared to these ancient primordial life forms who can swat us aside like gnats, feed off our worst radioactive bi-products and wrestle 50 stories above us. When the final confrontation occurs (and be patient it does occur), a San Francisco leveling brawl takes place with us tiny humans scrambling to save as many of ourselves as possible. Director Gareth Edwards excels, previously made the full-of-potential low budget indie film "Monsters", and here he is liberated from his penny pinching but not from the groundings of simple entertainment desires.
The American touches are mostly complementary. The film's audio design is outstanding and yet referential to the originals, the score is perfectly dark and smokey (so happy to have a touch of Requiem from 2001 ASO in there), the monsters look and feel very traditional to the old Toho design and yet without its cartoonishness or lack of mass. There is a moment in the film where pudgy CGI Godzilla looks into the camera and lets out one long continuous roar that goes on for much longer than is comfortable, announcing his intentions to finally kick monster ass. It is a delightfully self aware touch to a movie that for most people just needs to be about giant rubber monsters flailing about, and that is perhaps where it falls shortest. There are many instances of teasing the audience ala Cloverfield, cutting away from Monster action in an effort to prolong tension (something the Japanese could never be accused of). It delays and delays until it can't delay any further and must allow the beasts full screen mayhem. While moderately successful at creating anticipation, the technique may leave some audiences feeling slighted leaving as it does most of the action in the hands of its human actors. However, the humans having a larger role than anticipated is a staple of most Japanese Godzilla films and can be forgiven, and if only the filmmakers had found some wonderful middle ground between featuring humans/monsters then this could have been the perfect Godzilla. In fact the entire film reads like a Godzilla fans almost wet dream, with all the military "toys" and their dumb as a rock military plans, all the small children in peril, without the need to get gory or talk down to its audience. It all adds up to a Godzilla that we have never seen before, with an Indy sensibility behind the camera and an efficient intelligence behind its script, leaving us with an experience that is an uninterrupted echo of monsters through a darkened theater, reverberating off the ruined skyscrapers and felt curtains as they grind civilization to dust in their lumbering awake.
8 Godjira's out of 10 (GREAT)
The Raid 2 (2014)
The Raid 2 (R) - Review
"Kung Fu Napoleon Complex X100"
When the film The Raid: Redemption hit US shores in 2011, many felt that Hollywood would have to "sit up and take notice", for here was a director, here was a star, here was a movie that finally showed the industry what people want in an action movie. Just pure, non-stop bloody-white-knuckle action. Now, 3 years later and the industry certainly hadn't noticed (they still believe in the older mummified action stars will lead the way back to genre gold), so here comes Welsh Director Gareth Evans and his stunt/fighting troupe of Malaysian daredevil martial artists to again put the record straight. Evans and Co. even provide an overly complex script along with a more refined cinematic technique and beautifully boiled down fighting aesthetic to make up for the first film's short comings (and subsequent critical backlashes).
Rookie Supercop Rama just survived The Raid, and now is immediately drawn into a world of higher stakes and bigger criminals. He goes deep undercover to a local prison to infiltrate the organization that had corrupted his brother and climb the ladder to the bigger bosses. There he will rise from street level crime to find a rich corruption and thick grey area between law and justice and enough opponents and plot points to fill three Hollywood blockbusters, without the phony wire work that mars so many Asian epics.
The Raid 2 is first and foremost a sequel done correctly (according to Evans this was the movie he would have made first if the budget could have been scraped together). It has elements and ideas taken from the first, expanded and improved. It just doesn't do the same things over yet BIGGER, add more explosions and call it a day. No, the fights here are less numerous (a testament to the first's enormous amount of combat not this one's lack), and yet more significant due to the precise build up. In fact the first half hour is almost entirely a buildup of tension without release, and when it starts to finally let off steam it does so carefully. They add in a spectacular car chase, subplots galore and new villains that aren't just paper-thin caricatures waiting to get kick-punched.
Some of it may be a bit excessive (the squeamish for one will choke on their popcorn at the amount of realistic ultraviolence and gore). Hollywood producers would have likely cut out the entire subplot of the Hobo Assassin for he plays almost no part in the main characters lives (and is basically a footnote to the overall plot). Therein lies the problem with films now, the Hobo is introduced suddenly and without explanation as an incredibly dangerous and efficient killer, then has a long dinner scene with his estranged wife where they discuss their son, and just as suddenly is used as a pawn to ignite the gangs to war. It makes little sense conventionally and that dinner scene almost feels like it belongs in a different film, and yet this is what Hollywood should be paying attention to. The Hobo (played by Yayan Ruhian) is director Evan's fight coordinator for both films, and the dangerous look in his eye pairs with the sadness on his face solidifies the ennui of the entire film: most of us are the pawns who are pushed and sacrificed around the board as the Kings sit back and gloat. This small, fragile part of a rock-hard action movie structure is indicative of the intelligence behind Raid 2 and spotlights the leaps and bounds it has made beyond the first entry, succeeding in showing up everything Hollywood has done in the past 10 years. As our hero Rama battles foe after foe, goes through revelations and meets various martial arts archetypes and plot twists while giving up his young family in the name of justice, the fights get better and better and more frequent and more poignant with each knuckle crack. Add to that a superb cinematic scope with slick photography, fight choreography that never feels rushed or unpolished (which was a problem in the first Raid), and you have a genuine Martial Arts Masterpiece starring a troupe of sincere Malaysian men with huge amounts of talents and guts all pulled together by a Welsh action fan.
The Raid 2 is a brutal truth, for it delivers quality AND quantity, and it's going to make it awful hard to sit through the average pap coming out at the corner Cineplex.
9 Aluminum Baseball Bats vs Hammers out of 10 (OUTSTANDING).
"Kung Fu Napoleon Complex X100"
When the film The Raid: Redemption hit US shores in 2011, many felt that Hollywood would have to "sit up and take notice", for here was a director, here was a star, here was a movie that finally showed the industry what people want in an action movie. Just pure, non-stop bloody-white-knuckle action. Now, 3 years later and the industry certainly hadn't noticed (they still believe in the older mummified action stars will lead the way back to genre gold), so here comes Welsh Director Gareth Evans and his stunt/fighting troupe of Malaysian daredevil martial artists to again put the record straight. Evans and Co. even provide an overly complex script along with a more refined cinematic technique and beautifully boiled down fighting aesthetic to make up for the first film's short comings (and subsequent critical backlashes).
Rookie Supercop Rama just survived The Raid, and now is immediately drawn into a world of higher stakes and bigger criminals. He goes deep undercover to a local prison to infiltrate the organization that had corrupted his brother and climb the ladder to the bigger bosses. There he will rise from street level crime to find a rich corruption and thick grey area between law and justice and enough opponents and plot points to fill three Hollywood blockbusters, without the phony wire work that mars so many Asian epics.
The Raid 2 is first and foremost a sequel done correctly (according to Evans this was the movie he would have made first if the budget could have been scraped together). It has elements and ideas taken from the first, expanded and improved. It just doesn't do the same things over yet BIGGER, add more explosions and call it a day. No, the fights here are less numerous (a testament to the first's enormous amount of combat not this one's lack), and yet more significant due to the precise build up. In fact the first half hour is almost entirely a buildup of tension without release, and when it starts to finally let off steam it does so carefully. They add in a spectacular car chase, subplots galore and new villains that aren't just paper-thin caricatures waiting to get kick-punched.
Some of it may be a bit excessive (the squeamish for one will choke on their popcorn at the amount of realistic ultraviolence and gore). Hollywood producers would have likely cut out the entire subplot of the Hobo Assassin for he plays almost no part in the main characters lives (and is basically a footnote to the overall plot). Therein lies the problem with films now, the Hobo is introduced suddenly and without explanation as an incredibly dangerous and efficient killer, then has a long dinner scene with his estranged wife where they discuss their son, and just as suddenly is used as a pawn to ignite the gangs to war. It makes little sense conventionally and that dinner scene almost feels like it belongs in a different film, and yet this is what Hollywood should be paying attention to. The Hobo (played by Yayan Ruhian) is director Evan's fight coordinator for both films, and the dangerous look in his eye pairs with the sadness on his face solidifies the ennui of the entire film: most of us are the pawns who are pushed and sacrificed around the board as the Kings sit back and gloat. This small, fragile part of a rock-hard action movie structure is indicative of the intelligence behind Raid 2 and spotlights the leaps and bounds it has made beyond the first entry, succeeding in showing up everything Hollywood has done in the past 10 years. As our hero Rama battles foe after foe, goes through revelations and meets various martial arts archetypes and plot twists while giving up his young family in the name of justice, the fights get better and better and more frequent and more poignant with each knuckle crack. Add to that a superb cinematic scope with slick photography, fight choreography that never feels rushed or unpolished (which was a problem in the first Raid), and you have a genuine Martial Arts Masterpiece starring a troupe of sincere Malaysian men with huge amounts of talents and guts all pulled together by a Welsh action fan.
The Raid 2 is a brutal truth, for it delivers quality AND quantity, and it's going to make it awful hard to sit through the average pap coming out at the corner Cineplex.
9 Aluminum Baseball Bats vs Hammers out of 10 (OUTSTANDING).
Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014)
Captain America: The Winter Soldier (PG-13) Review
"A-Head of the Class"
The Marvel Studios again outshine their Comic Book film brethren by churning out an astonishingly entertaining and action packed movie starring one of its squarest Super Heroes, Captain America. Not only must Cap and his SHIELD cohorts once again battle the corruptive forces of Hydra but also their own shadowy pasts in this much improved sequel.
The Marvel Cinematic Universe is already overflowing with success, an achievement all the more impressive in that it is still arguably without its most famous licenses (rival Studios all hold the reigns for Fantastic Four, Spider-Man and the X-Men). Yet, here is Captain America, well-known and respected Nazi-Smasher from the 40's succeeding beyond all reasonable expectations in our here and now (both on and off the screen). A man who wears a big capital "A" in the middle of his forehead as a fashion statement has no business being accepted in today's fickle pop culture. But here is the Big Blue Bomber, with his creaky old stoicism and unfashionable patriotism, embraced as a genuine Box Office Blockbuster and the true American hero he's always been. Epic explosions, spy movie tropes, hand to hand combat combine with non-stereotypical Ethnic characters and a compassionate touch on PTSD and the brotherhood of soldiers, this is one amazingly accessible, yet progressive American film.
Disappointing as it is to lose the original source's Cold War era Russia origins or to saddle Cap with an overpowered Black Widow (who is apparently the only female willing to cross franchise lines to add unnecessary sex appeal to any Male driven MarvelU film), if the constant fighting and shield flinging all kind of look the same by the end of its 2+ hours, if the politics are very conveniently pro-Snowden/post-Anon when the past entries were all pro-PatriotAct/post-911, well we can still all sigh a big sigh of relief that Disney hasn't muddled the waters and have let Marvel do what Marvel does best. Envelop into their stories a tapestry of current events while a multitude of different writers preserve its diverse history and mythology. Oh, and give Stan Lee a line or two in every film. Excelsior!
8 Unexplained Big Red Stars out of 10 (GREAT)
"A-Head of the Class"
The Marvel Studios again outshine their Comic Book film brethren by churning out an astonishingly entertaining and action packed movie starring one of its squarest Super Heroes, Captain America. Not only must Cap and his SHIELD cohorts once again battle the corruptive forces of Hydra but also their own shadowy pasts in this much improved sequel.
The Marvel Cinematic Universe is already overflowing with success, an achievement all the more impressive in that it is still arguably without its most famous licenses (rival Studios all hold the reigns for Fantastic Four, Spider-Man and the X-Men). Yet, here is Captain America, well-known and respected Nazi-Smasher from the 40's succeeding beyond all reasonable expectations in our here and now (both on and off the screen). A man who wears a big capital "A" in the middle of his forehead as a fashion statement has no business being accepted in today's fickle pop culture. But here is the Big Blue Bomber, with his creaky old stoicism and unfashionable patriotism, embraced as a genuine Box Office Blockbuster and the true American hero he's always been. Epic explosions, spy movie tropes, hand to hand combat combine with non-stereotypical Ethnic characters and a compassionate touch on PTSD and the brotherhood of soldiers, this is one amazingly accessible, yet progressive American film.
Disappointing as it is to lose the original source's Cold War era Russia origins or to saddle Cap with an overpowered Black Widow (who is apparently the only female willing to cross franchise lines to add unnecessary sex appeal to any Male driven MarvelU film), if the constant fighting and shield flinging all kind of look the same by the end of its 2+ hours, if the politics are very conveniently pro-Snowden/post-Anon when the past entries were all pro-PatriotAct/post-911, well we can still all sigh a big sigh of relief that Disney hasn't muddled the waters and have let Marvel do what Marvel does best. Envelop into their stories a tapestry of current events while a multitude of different writers preserve its diverse history and mythology. Oh, and give Stan Lee a line or two in every film. Excelsior!
8 Unexplained Big Red Stars out of 10 (GREAT)
Dumb & Dumber To (2014)
Dumb & Dumber To (R)
The Farrelly brothers' Harry and Lloyd return with another dumb adventure set on the road to a tech conference in search of a replacement kidney from a long-lost daughter. Laughs are fewer and farther between, as the leads (Jim Carey and Jeff Daniels) now classic characters have lost their characterizations in favor of just acting like 10 year olds. The troubled production can only be compared to the original, and yes it is dumber than the first, but the aging cast and the creaking dialog can't outrun the few puns (and nutshots) that hit home, not to mention the sequelitis of the plot (hit men, bird boys and *yawn* road trip). You'll soon zip by the prerequisite nods to the original and find some genuine chuckles here, but the fresh/manic energy of the original (wheres the improv?) has not lasted these 20 years and has instead dried up like yesterday's diapers.
5 Appropriate Usage of the Mutt Cut Mobile out of 10 (MEDIOCRE)
The Farrelly brothers' Harry and Lloyd return with another dumb adventure set on the road to a tech conference in search of a replacement kidney from a long-lost daughter. Laughs are fewer and farther between, as the leads (Jim Carey and Jeff Daniels) now classic characters have lost their characterizations in favor of just acting like 10 year olds. The troubled production can only be compared to the original, and yes it is dumber than the first, but the aging cast and the creaking dialog can't outrun the few puns (and nutshots) that hit home, not to mention the sequelitis of the plot (hit men, bird boys and *yawn* road trip). You'll soon zip by the prerequisite nods to the original and find some genuine chuckles here, but the fresh/manic energy of the original (wheres the improv?) has not lasted these 20 years and has instead dried up like yesterday's diapers.
5 Appropriate Usage of the Mutt Cut Mobile out of 10 (MEDIOCRE)
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About Me
- Kevin Gasaway via HardDrawn
- Turlock, California, United States
- Media and Reviews by Kevin Gasaway