Cinemaphile.org

Link: Does Anyone Want to Be "Well-Read?"

2011-04-22T23:52:00.000-07:00

In Roger Ebert's April 16th blog, there is a very interesting question raised that inspires the need for a lot of feedback. How many of the great writers of our culture have you had the privelage of absorbing? Better yet, how many have you read willingly, outside of the structured environment of classrooms and homework assignments?

Read on here and comment.

Cult Classics That Never Were: "Titan A.E."

2011-04-19T00:27:00.000-07:00

The following article was written in 2008, one of severalreflection pieces meant to be published in a book that was being shopped aroundto publishers for the Online Film Critics Society. The book never materialized,but some of the submissions that various critics made were no doubtwell-written essays that were also impeccable in the aesthetic known only tothe most talented of online writers. I’m sure that some of the work of mycolleagues from the project has since made it online, and because I’m never oneto advise wasting a written word, the time has come to publish my own.

Despite the fact that I wrote a review for “Titan A.E.”during it’s original theatrical run, I felt it was appropriate to revisit themovie and it’s ongoing reputation as an underrated gem. (Not so ironically,this piece was written for a chapter called “Cult Classics That Never Were,”which I now use as the header here to create the distinction of it not being atypical film review).

Written by DAVID KEYES

It takes just as much luck as it does skill of the craft fora bunch of movie animators to break free of certain negative stigma. Case inpoint: 20th Century Fox Animation.

In the year 2000 – or, more specifically, in what amasses tobeing eons ago in the ever-changing world of feature animation – here was anenterprise on the verge of financial ruin, its reputation scarred by an arsenalof domestic flops scattered across the cinematic canvas like leftovers from themind of the latest disgruntled employee ousted from Walt Disney Pictures. Tohear the mere names of them is to feel the disappointment in the air: “OnceUpon a Forest,” “Anastasia,” and “The Pagemaster.”Whereas the 90s saw the resurgence of interest in the genre based on thenarrative risks – and technological breakthroughs – that were going on at theHouse of Mouse, studios like Fox were vying for attention in a market way toocompetitive to tolerate normality. To abolish that restraint, someone,somewhere, needed to push the boundary further. Essentially, they had to expandan already-broadened horizon.

Then “Titan A.E.” happened. The most teen/adult-drivenendeavor of theirs in both scope and thrust, the elaborate science fictionvehicle shot for the highest of stars in nearly every way imagineable when itmade its way to theaters during those summer months. To read into thesuggestions of extensive television and internet advertising campaigns, itwasn’t just going to be the kind of movie you would go to and enjoy: it wasalso going to put a floundering producer of animated films back on the map. Butsuch is not the fate that befell Fox in the end; though their movie wassaturated in all the technical and narrative values that allowed the greatDisney films of the 90s to soar, it still never quite found the audience itneeded, and the studio’s Arizona-based offices shut their doors for good as aresult. Once all was said in done, the movie joined a long line offeature-length cartoons destined for the DVD bargain bin at the local Wal-Mart.

Does the movie deserve that distinction? Hardly. When itfirst arrived on theater screens nearly a decade ago, I remember having greatenthusiasm and admiration for it – traits that I find have not diminishedwhatsoever after revisiting the film in recent times. That’s because “TitanA.E.”, in many respects, abolishes the widely-regarded concept of featureanimation being geared specifically towards a youthful target audience – asboth an adult and an adventurer, I responded to the movie’s energetic payoffnot from the perspective of a kid at heart but rather as an aficionado of thepromise of skilled and smart space travel. Moreso than being just a technicalachievement on most cylinders (especially for hand-drawn in that time frame),the movie is also very well written and staged, in the sense that you neverquite find yourself consciously contemplating the fact that you are watching acartoon. In ways, the film is just as real and believable as a “Star Wars” or a“Blade Runner.”

The hero of the movie is Cale (voiced by Matt Damon), ayoung adventurer whose sense of identity has been emboldened by an event fromhis youth that continues to haunt him and his fellow man. A massive storagevessel dubbed the “Titan,” containing every essential iota of detail necessaryto replicate genetic codes for every living being that touched the surface ofthe Earth, is seen as an act of great arrogance and danger in the eyes of analien race known as the Drej, and in order to maintain their superiority in anintergalactic cultural ladder, they simply remedied the problem by, well,destroying Earth entirely.

Ah, but not before the Titan itself is launched into adistant galaxy for safe-keeping, and a handful of important human beings are evacuatedinto the stars before the impending destruction. 15 years following thecatastrophe, man is an endangered species and in desperate need of something tosave them – and thus, in traditional (but effective) science fiction form, agreat quest to find the key to humanity’s perseverance ensues.

Cole’s distinction from most others equally anxious todiscover said ship is that his father is actually the mastermind behind thevessel’s inception, and the only means to unlock its secret whereabouts lies ina ring that was given to him 15 years before, mere moments before both men fleda dying planet and were separated forever. This ring, when activated, containselaborate maps detailing specific travel points and paths to take in order toreach their goal. The problem? The Drej are also after the Titan, and for the completelyopposing purpose.

That the narrative is loosely inspired by Daniel Defoe’sgreat literary work “Robinson Crusoe” is not an element to be ignored – directorDon Bluth acknowledges such by including a snapshot of a man holding said novelin his hand during the film – but it is not plot that ultimately drives theon-screen energy of “Titan A.E.”. Consider, first and foremost, the fact thatits ideas belong not to a major studio blockbuster, but rather a simple littlecartoon; the mere prospect seems to drive the animators into spheres ofimagination that go beyond what we come to expect of the genre even by today’sstandards. As an object of antagonism, the Drej are meticulously crafted andexecuted to be something more than just an angry alien race; they aremetaphysical beings, fleshless and made out of pure energy, as if to imply thattypical instruments of destruction will be useless in the hands of the humancharacters. Other visual touches make distinctive use of the film’s sense ofboundless wonder, and we are given precious sights such as an orchard ofhydrogen trees and a climactic hunt between competing factions of charactersthat takes place with large and foreboding ice crystals serving as thebackdrop.

But still, the question remains many years later: why, witheverything going for it, did “Titan A.E” flop so hard at the box office? Ithink the answer has more to do with appeal rather than content. For all itsweight as both a crowd-pleaser and a genuinely beautiful-looking movie, the factof the matter is that the feature is deliberately geared towards the oneaudience that seldom takes the time to actually see animated films in the firstplace: the teenage sci-fi/fantasy aficionados, most of whom would rather spendtheir time playing Dungeons and Dragons or re-watching Peter Jackson’s “Lord ofthe Rings” trilogy. To them, a major studio cartoon, no matter how accessibleit may be to their nature, is simply not a hot commodity (and that is notnecessarily an implausible scenario either, otherwise we might have never seensimilar cartoons like Disney’s more recent “Treasure Planet” flop). Luckily forthose who did actually take the time to discover it, such a situation doesnothing to diminish the movie’s value. Years later, Fox’s sci-fi flop remainspresent in the mind despite all the obstacles it fell short of overcoming.

Scream 4 - ***1/2 (2011)

2011-04-15T23:01:00.000-07:00

“One generation’s tragedy is another’s joke,” observes Deputy Dewey Riley (David Arquette) during an early moment in “Scream 4,” on a day in which ghost-faced costumes are lined on lampposts throughout town to acknowledge the anniversary of a deadly teenage massacre from so many years prior. Those old enough to remember the experience find it no laughing matter, but as is the curse of time in history and society, our culture is desensitized to the past because mankind exists in a perpetual state of testing its boundaries.

The kids in the original “Scream” watched scary movies, recognized the formulas and walked around with a certain self-awareness of their bleak situations; here, over a decade later, horror films are not about patterns as much as they are about the gratuity, and Hollywood has lost all inspiration to green-light anything other than remakes. Therefore, the only movie rule that applies to the teenagers of Woodsboro circa 2011: all other rules are undergoing a revamp.

The characters of “Scream 4” have the same audacious self-awareness of those in the earlier pictures, but with modern conveniences. Social networking sites allow news of death and mayhem to spread quicker than the police will allow. Portable cameras capture an endless supply of graphic footage from a murderer’s point of view that can be instantly streamed worldwide. And, naturally, the evolution of phone technology means that if the creepy ghost-face killers don’t want to call up a victim and threaten them, they could always just send a text instead.

The key to the movie’s relevance is an evolved version of what has been key to the franchise as a whole, which is to allow mayhem and hysteria to ensue without allowing it to upstage the characters or their pointed observations. This is not just refreshing, but also rather pleasantly surprising; writer Kevin Williamson and director Wes Craven – perhaps best when they are collaborating with each other in the first place – have gone against an age-old standard of long-running movie franchises running out of steam by crafting a solid, driven and well-packaged endeavor that also acts as a middle finger to the state of its parent genre. Long ago did the people in horror films with above average intelligence cease showing up; “Scream 4” plays like a trip to their compound.

Further incentive to see the movie stems from the return of the series’ important players. This time, Sidney Prescott (Neve Campbell), the core survivor of three waves of deadly murders, is back in Woodsboro promoting a self-help book she has just released, a move that coincides with the anniversary of the first set of killings she witnessed. Simultaneously, a new double murder has just taken place in town, this time on two teenage girls who, like previous victims, were harassed and abused verbally by a creepy stalker voice on a phone before being mutilated from multiple stab wounds. This event triggers not just traditional panic in the faces of the town’s citizens, but also a feeling of déjà vu. The teenagers almost seem detached from their situation, as if they’re merely outside looking in on another chapter in a tired slasher franchise. But can you blame them? Hollywood has made six sequels to “Stab,” the movie based on the Woodsboro Murders, and numerous remakes to older (and better) films have so desensitized them to reality that they barely seem present even during their own slashings. This is not accidental on Craven or Williamson’s part, either. Teenagers who watch horror movies in the now are genuinely like this.

For the three lone survivors of the first trilogy, the new wave of killings inspires, perhaps more than anything else, a silent impulse to step back into a position that has become more comfortable to them than it should be. Gale Weathers (Courtney Cox), by leading example, has had difficulty functioning in the years since her run-ins with masked maniacs; sitting quietly behind a desk with a blank document for days on end, she finds herself devoid of creative or professional inspiration unless there is some kind of homicide going on around her. Indirectly it also impacts her husband Dewey, now the Sheriff of Woodsboro; relatively commonplace as a law figure, his endeavors are a distinct contrast to how he behaves in situations involving spilled blood. You’d think poor Sidney would be of the opposite ideal since she is one of the fundamental links to this entire massacre, but no such luck. There is a moment when Ms. Prescott willingly runs into the house of a murder victim while the killing is taking place, an action that is indicative of the inner strength she has found in herself after so much time dealing with the grief and loss of her loved ones. Us ordinary people would have probably fled for dear life at the mere mention of homicide after witnessing – and surviving – three extensive rounds of it, but hey, we’re obviously not the type meant to be in a Kevin Williamson screenplay, right?

The movie will probably be a shock to newer audiences, who won’t be nearly as sure of accuracy when doing the guesswork on who dies and who the killer really is. Williamson’s strength is not necessarily in originality, of course, but in the clever dialogue that is used to strategically throw viewers off the scent. This presents a good challenge to newbies, while us seasoned veterans will have less difficulty because the formula is now familiar to us (I don’t have shame in admitting that there were times I even found myself predicting potential one-liners before they were actually delivered). The film does still come with a few unforeseen tricks up its sleeve in either case, and I was particularly thrilled with the fact that the climax did not play out as I had expected it might. Movies that utilize false resolutions to throw its viewers off of a trail often do so at the expense of logic or plausibility, but “Scream 4” executes the effect to great results. By the end, I was genuinely surprised, bewildered and yet satisfied by how the events unfolded.

Who lives and who dies are not plot points I care to reveal, for the central point in “Scream 4,” I believe, is that it no longer matters as long as the people involved use their brains to enhance the journey. It’s funny, in a way, to think about what a town hall meeting in this community might have been like in the in-between years, or what might be said at public gatherings by residents who were around to bear witness to both waves of murder. If they are anything like the psychotic children they raise, their observations would no doubt make for stimulating dinner conversation. It must, after all, be so thought-provoking for a town like Woodsboro to find notoriety in the fact that smart teenagers who watched countless horror movies were capable of so much macabre over a few short years.

Written by DAVID KEYES

Horror (US); 2011; Rated R for strong bloody violence, language and some teen drinking; Running Time: 111 Minutes

Cast:

Neve Campbell: Sidney Prescott

David Arquette: Deputy Dewey Riley

Courtney Cox: Gale Weathers Riley

Emma Roberts: Jill Roberts

Hayden Panettiere: Kirby Reed

Alison Brie: Rebecca Walters

Produced by Wes Craven, Carly Feingold, Iya Labunka, Marianne Maddalena, Ron Schmidt, Bob Weinstein and Harvey Weinstein; Directed by Wes Craven; Written by Kevin Williamson;

THE VIEWING LIST (04/09/10)

2010-04-09T23:24:00.000-07:00

Returning to writing is a rewarding experience for me, but not so rewarding is the fact that it also comes with a price – namely, the prospect that collective moments taken away from normality to undertake a writing assignment will ultimately lead to normality catching up with me. I tend to put 100 percent focus on things that interest me at that current moment, and when my attention turns back, even briefly, to the every-day routines that keep me afloat personally, they often become overwhelming to a point that pulls away my focus from things like, well, writing and watching movies.

Attempts are being made to overcome that. There are too many distractions. Thankfully, five specific distractions these past two weeks have reminded me of what I started up again, and why it is important to follow through with it. Dreams can end simply by us waking up to reality; the important ones should become passions and endure for a lifetime.

Sliding Doors (1998)

A movie I vaguely remember seeing in the year it was released, “Sliding Doors” tells the story (or rather, two stories) of Helen (Gwenyth Paltrow), a public relations exec who in one scenario finds her boyfriend in bed with a mistress, and in another misses a train and arrives home after the fact to endure two more hours of screen time without knowing the truth about her cheating lover. You follow? Probably not, but seeing the movie will make things a bit more clear. This very savvy and smart romantic comedy is good mostly for its performances, although the parallel stories themselves aren’t nearly as interesting as the premise deserves. Still, it works, and perhaps more for the fact that its resolution comes attached with a message that, in retrospect, is of good service to any person who has ever loved and lost in life. Three stars.

Robin Williams: Weapons of Self Destruction (2010)

The comedian’s trek to Washington D.C., filmed earlier this year, is easily the most accessible and engaging stand-up comedy show the funny man has done in years, filled with great quips against politicians, religious groups, sports and the like. Nothing is sacred in this hour-and-a-half routine, and despite going through life-changing events in his recent years, Robin Williams shows no signs of slowing down or becoming stale. If anything, he’s upped the ante. Very funny and very foul. Three stars.

Throne of Blood (1957)

One of the all-time best films in the Akira Kurosawa cannon, the filmmaker’s adaptation of Shakespeare’s “Macbeth” is riveting and observant to very fine details. Set in medieval Japan, its narrative is of faithful reflection to the original texts it was derived from – a Japanese military lord is spoken to by an enigmatic soothsayer about the future in store for him, an act that sends his power-hungry wife into a tailspin of greed and manipulation as she persuades her husband to not wait for titles, but rather take them by force. The result: pure impending tragedy. It is a story that works surprisingly well in Kurosawa’s realm, and he doesn’t simply shoot the material as if it were straightforward action film; it is dark, creepy, well-photographed and multi-faceted in its conviction, and perhaps preferable to most adaptations we have seen of this story. Four stars.

Clash of the Titans (2010)

A remake of an old 1980s camp classic that has never been seen by yours truly. Judging by this film, it shall remain that way. Tired, clunky and dimwitted to a fault, it is the latest in an ongoing series of half-hearted blockbusters masquerading as a wannabe mythology epic, almost outdoing the godawful “Troy” in its sheer ability to cause eyes to roll. What saves it from being worse? It’s not nearly as ambitious as its nearest cousin, and therefore not nearly as deserving of genuine dislike. Still, what we see isn’t at all amusing. The dialogue is clunky and wooden. Actors stare at the screen as if contemplating career change. The plot focuses on big events but never provides any build-up to them. The most notable aspect of the picture: the special effects used to create the cape on Hades, which is basically made of smoke. Too bad the screenplay is all smoke AND mirrors with its intentions, though. One-and-a-half stars.

Madonna: Sticky & Sweet Tour (2010)

We’re always guaranteed a rousing good time at a concert put on by the Queen of Pop, and that’s exactly what we get with her latest trek across the globe, the highly successful Sticky & Sweet Tour. The DVD filming of the concert is a well-edited and choreographed piece that is a spectacle of light and color, and the songs involved during the productions are a solid blend of old and new catchy tunes. Unfortunately, the gusto of the presentation makes it feel as if Madonna is trying too hard to carefully edit out any and all flaws that tend to come with a stage production, and her vocals appear to be re-edited and cut to include studio sampling. What is the necessity of it? We appreciate the imperfections of a nightly concert, Madonna; no need to be a control freak about the fact that no one sings perfectly when they’re dancing like mad on a stage in front of millions of fans. Three stars.

Written by DAVID M. KEYES

Archives have returned

2010-04-03T23:24:00.000-07:00

There have been no new reviews this past week -- in part because I've been trying to get all the OLD stuff back up first.

And as luck would have it, as of today, every review I have written in the past is now available here. (note: necessary links will be on display in the main header sometime soon).

As for old articles? They are still a work in progress, but coming.

Normal writing will resume this week. Thank you for your patience.

THE VIEWING LIST (3/26/10)

2010-03-26T22:27:00.001-07:00

The cinema of old took a front and center presence in this past week’s viewing schedule. Three of the four movies I saw over the previous seven days originate pre-1960, while two of them were made by famed Swedish director Ingmar Bergman. Other common bonds: each deals with behaviors and feelings more than stories, and each seems to look into itself from a cracked mirror. Insanity, jealousy, mortality and desperation are deep-seeded ideas in all of these as well. Were they intentionally chosen as such? Not in the least. It was a coincidental parallel. Perhaps this implies that the golden era of both Hollywood and European cinema preferred to deal with reflective impulses, qualities that might seem rare in today’s industry.

The list also stresses a feeling that has been sitting at the back of my mind for the better part of a few weeks – that right now, in this moment, the old movies mean much more to be both as a writer and as a thinker than the new. I have even tinkered around with a few ideas that may become specific goals for the site, too – one would involve me reviewing each film that ever won an Academy Award for Best Picture, the other would involve reviewing all films under a specific director’s cannon, etc. Both are rigorous ambitions, but both are also productive – and educational – challenges. Challenges which I feel might be worth embracing.

The Snake Pit (1948)

Olivia de Havilland was an extraordinary and gifted actress in her day, perhaps far more than most might have given her credit for. Much like Sally Field in “Norma Rae” or Charlize Theron in “Monster,” her role in the Oscar-nominated “The Snake Pit” was a risky challenge in the sense that it destroyed early perceptions of the star by asking her to take an alternate route. The movie itself was also the first of its kind to show the interior existence of mental patience in a psychiatric hospital, which may or may not have set the groundwork for “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” years later. Apart from the movie’s diverging nature, though, is basically just a really well-acted, well-written character study that has genuine respect for its subject matter and engages you on many levels. De Havilland is simply extraordinary in the role of Virginia Cunningham, a woman who has fragmented memories of her own life since childhood, who finds herself caught in a situation that she desperately hopes she can overcome. At 108 minutes, it’s just the right length for its then-controversial subject matter. Rent to own, especially if you are an aficionado of the Hollywood golden age.

The Seventh Seal (1957)

One of the most harsh and truthful essays on the human condition ever made. Ingmar Bergman’s break-out hit of 1957 is mesmerizing in its intimacy with characters, and brave in the way it directly deals with difficult subjects that refuse to have simple answers. Starring Max von Sydow as a Swedish Knight recently returned from the Crusades, his faith is shaken by the implication that death may lead to nowhere, and that the idea of a plane of existence beyond the physical form may just be, well, a fallacy. The supporting characters each battle similar feelings on different levels of psychosis , and the physical presence of Death in the form of a dark hooded figure adds dimension – and timeliness – to their internal quests for answers. The image of both he and Antonius Black playing a game of chess on a beach is one of the most striking images I have ever seen on film. A must-own for any fan of film.

A Letter to Three Wives (1949)

Perhaps not nearly as lasting a film as “The Snake Pit” from the 1940s, “A Letter to Three Wives” nonetheless inspires amusement. Thee friends, each married to a man who may or may not have secret feelings for the town’s flirtatious socialite Addy Ross (who is never physically seen in the movie), receive a telegram on the day they are away from home, announcing that she has run off with one of their husbands – and none will know which one it was until the movie comes to a close. An interesting premise with great potential to inspire deep and revealing dialogue exchanges takes a safer route and instead decides to deal in routine flashbacks. Nonetheless, it is a well acted comedy with an ensemble that includes the great Ann Southern, Kirk Douglas and Linda Darnell. A passable Saturday night time-killer. Rent it or see it on cable.

Cries and Whispers (1972)

There is nothing time-killer about this, another one of the great Ingmar Bergman masterpieces. At only 91 minutes, “Cries and Whispers” is paced to slow and agonizing proportions, a tactic that effectively leaves us unsettled because of the serious and hard subjects the movie is dealing with. Provocative in the way it contrasts such stark hues with a story that feels like it might leave you with physical scarring, it tells the story of two sisters who are taking care of their dying sister, who in her last days is confronting all the regret and pain that has followed her through the years in order to have a better understanding of her intended purpose. Moving performances and set decoration that allows women dressed in white to practically glide through the air with a background saturated in deep reds and crimson. One of the most beautiful looking foreign films I have ever sat through. Buy it!

Written by DAVID M. KEYES

2012 - ** (2009)

2010-03-24T17:53:00.000-07:00

Three things promptly come to mind when watching Roland Emmerich’s latest disaster blockbuster: 1) theories behind 2012 being the year of a potential planetary cataclysm strike me as flimsy and desperate attempts to further promote fear-mongering in an already fearful society plagued by ongoing human tragedies; 2) special effects have indeed come so far and reach so extensively that, in the case of a moviemaker with a lot to prove, it can easily just be a crutch; and 3) no one has obviously been brave enough to tell this movie’s director, a obvious destruction enthusiast, that just because you decide to blow up every known corner of your planet for lavish production purposes doesn’t give you the option to neglect any of the ordinary things that most competent filmmakers utilize. His is a movie that plays more like a preview reel than its own actual end result. It is all about elaborate show rather than a substantive purpose. And the sad thing is that he probably already knows that, and just doesn’t mind.

Does he assume the audience will be too wowed by the special effects to mind, either? One has to wonder. But you at least have to credit him for being consistent in the attempt. “2012” is constructed on the visual and narrative principles of “Independence Day” and “The Day After Tomorrow” – that is, on the idea that a subtle indication of great potential disaster can, and often will, swell into something dark and gloomy and cause countless motion picture stand-ins to serve as unfortunate casualties. This time, the list of the dead runs longer than the movie’s own running time. 2012, you see, is the year that the Mayans supposedly predicted the end of the world as we know it – or, from the scientific approach, the year that the planets would align, solar flares would heat up the Earth’s interior, and our civilization would be tested by major alterations to the planet’s surface and climate system. To hear some talk, nature apparently never does anything in gradual increments.

But that is but a moot point for any director of a blockbuster, so for the sake of argument, we must suspend theoretical logic in order to get through “2012.” The movie opens with the obligatory setup – a scientist in India has discovered that a solar disturbance is causing physical abnormalities here on Earth, ones that will, after time, melt the interior of the planet and cause the tectonic plates to basically clash together and upset the surface. In other words: we will have massive earthquakes, Yellowstone will blow up, and giant tsunamis will ravage coastlines and destroy all in their path.

Those scenarios do not bode well for fellow scientist Adrian Helmsley (Chiwetel Ejiofor), who rushes back to the states with this discovery and persuades the chief geologist Carl Anheuser (Oliver Platt) to speak to the president about the impending danger. The various dialogue exchanges eventually lead to a secretive international endeavor to erect giant ships that can protect several thousand people from harm, and the targeted date for boarding is – you guessed it! – December of 2012.

In the meantime, ordinary people go on about their lives and often get caught in the crosshairs of Emmerich’s screenplay. Typical of his hair-thin efforts to create characters interesting enough to hold our attention until Earth goes crazy, we are given Jackson Curtis (John Cusack), a novelist/limo driver who is divorced from Kate (Amanda Peet) and has two children who, for obvious reasons, tend to get frustrated by the fact that their own dad is seldom around enough to know what goes on in their lives. Ah, but he becomes a key-holder to crucial information while vacationing in Yellowstone park when he meets a crazed radio personality named Charlie Frost (Woody Harrelson), who provides insight into an impending danger that threatens the lives of ordinary civilians not knowledgeable – or wealthy – enough to endure when the world turns itself inside out. To hear him talk, the planet is on the verge of apocalypse and the government intends to build spaceships to escape the danger. But how do ordinary men and women like Jackson get a boarding pass? Certainly not in a conventional sense, otherwise the movie wouldn’t require them to jump through hoops in order to survive.

Emmerich at least has mastered the art of persuasion when it comes to casting big names in his films, and “2012” is no exception – Danny Glover, Oliver Platt, Thandie Newton, Amanda Peet, John Cusack and Woody Harrelson are all instantly recognizable names with credits that would be the envy of any aspiring thespian. One thing you have to credit John Cusack for, perhaps more than most others, is his ability to retread old material for the sake of the payoff, and show patience with it. Observant viewers might recall quite quickly that this is not the first time he has played either a novelist or a limo driver in a major picture (the former in “1408” and the latter in “Identity”). Did he take a moment out of his dialogue reading to point out these obvious parallels? I’m almost sure of it. But anyone starring in any of Roland’s movies knows that his screenplays are manufactured clusters of ideas ripped from better, more thoroughly realized ones. The only reason he can get away with it: his movies are always colossal box office draws.

The problem is they have never been that interesting on any level other than the visual, and unlike more ambitious directors who have found the right balance between the written word and the foray into crafting striking images, he seems perfectly content allowing the special effects to be the life support system. Two recent exceptions to the genre standard are Danny Boyle’s “Sunshine” and Alex Proyas’ “Knowing,” both which tells stories of impossible measures being undertaken by a group of puzzled individuals whose primary motivation is not their own survival, but ensuring the continuity of humanity as a whole. Are these not more inspiring, more lasting impressions on us than watching Los Angeles fall into the ocean or tidal waves striking the face of Mount Everest?

The movie does have fun with itself, even on shallow merits. The visuals are rich and detailed. The sound editing is impeccable. The camera captures every possible catastrophe with striking accuracy, and there is a certain power to the implication that our technology has advanced far enough to allow the most overzealous ideas to find life on a movie screen. Considering the audacity of the director and the gusto of his technical artists, it’s probably a safe bet to say that the movie even surpasses “Independence Day” and “The Day After Tomorrow” in its value as escapist entertainment. But seriously, how often do we want to escape into worlds that are hell-bent on ravaging our sense of security with invading aliens and furious natural disasters? If it is some small consolation, it is doubtful there is much left to destroy after the curtain falls on “2012.” Least of all any remaining expectations.

Written by DAVID KEYES

Action (US); 2009; Rated PG-13 for intense disaster sequences and some language; Running Time: 158 Minutes

Cast:
John Cusack: Jackson Curtis
Amanda Peet: Kate Curtis
Chiwetel Ejiofor: Adrian Helmsley
Thandie Newton: Laura Wilson
Oliver Platt: Carl Anheuser
Tom McCarthy: Gordon Silberman
Woody Harrelson: Charlie Frost
Danny Glover: President Thomas Wilson

Produced by Aaron Boyd, Roland Emmerich, Ute Emmerich, Volker Engel,Larry J. Franco, Mark Gordon, Harald Kloser, Marc Weigert, MichaelWimer and Kirstin Winkler; Directed by Roland Emmerich; Written byRoland Emmerich and Harald Kloser

I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell - 1/2* (2009)

2010-03-23T02:23:00.000-07:00

The beer-guzzling imbecile that hogs the spotlight of “I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell” is the most unpleasant 20-year old I have seen in a comedy in recent years, soulless and disparaging and so excessive in those qualities that they seem to have no beginning or ending point. A more skilled comedy would have been obligated to reduce him to background distraction after two minutes; unfortunately, based on new traditions, he is allowed to infect celluloid for the full running time and drives the story into rather dubious territory. Often we find ourselves sitting back in total speechlessness, particularly when he degrades women, speaks in vulgar and pompous analogies, indulges in irresponsible behavior, and allows himself to not be bothered by noticing any of the discomfort that he brings to the lives of his own close friends. That he achieves all of this with either a smirk or a chuckle in conjunction with a crude line of dialogue is a convenient narrative cop-out, one meant to imply that the mean-spiritedness of the material is really just tongue-in-cheek. Too bad it isn’t in the least bit funny.

I’m not being unfair in my approach here. A movie with a politically incorrect spirit is fully capable of being genuinely funny and engaging, and even some of the most mean-spirited comedies have found a way to warrant an actual laugh, even though we can feel bad for participating in one afterwards. But “I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell” does not know the first thing about comic timing. It is tone deaf, tasteless and irrational material that has all the misplaced arrogance of a rebellious high school drop-out who thinks he or she is too ahead of the game for people to understand. Sitting through it with rolling eyes, I routinely wondered if the writer, Tucker Max, genuinely feels the same about people as his own characters do – if he sees all women as either whores or sluts (apparently their chosen professions can classify them as one or the other in most cases), if he speaks to them as if to insinuate homicidal tendencies can be effective pick-up lines, and if he actually thinks gross bodily functions are really so funny and significant that they can cause characters to have powerful revelations afterwards. A quick internet search on him yielded some revealing results – he openly blogs about being an excessive drinker and womanizer, although I doubt the validity of it – but judging by the work before us, I couldn’t exactly say I would be very surprised by anything I might discover, either. Here is a movie very obviously written by someone who believes painful lapses in taste are the only chord worth striking in search of a good laugh.

Consider the plot. It involves three characters in college whose whole existence depends on the idea of getting drunk, getting laid and coming up with as many crude punch lines as possible to use as answers to questionable activity. Chief among them is Tucker Max (yes, the lead shares the same name with the film’s writer) (Matt Czuchry), who trots onto screen proud of the fact that he just had sex with a deaf woman the night before, and promises another night of fun and games with women when he decides to take his two closest buddies, Drew (Jesse Bradford) and Dan (Geoff Stults) out of town to a strip joint that allows guests to physically touch the naked employees. Dan is getting married to his girlfriend the next day and spends much of the trip frowning in discomfort at lying to his fiancée about his whereabouts, while Drew simply tugs along reminding everyone that, because his own girlfriend cheated on him, all girls are either whores or sluts and should be treated as such. Considering his dapper approach, can you blame her for her actions?

To say that I found these three men utterly devoid of any basic likeability is a grand understatement; they are not only foul, but also profoundly uninteresting. That’s because Mr. Max’s unfortunate screenplay lacks the basic skill to multi-task, and he is usually so concentrated on the rambling dialogue that he overlooks developing a pace and making basic behavior observations for his trio of sexists. His characters don’t even talk like actual characters in a comedy; they read long and exhausting lines of dialogue that seem insufferably wordy. There is a labored sequence early on that stresses this notion, in which the Drew character decides to defend himself against his friends on the virtues of eating a popular hybrid sandwich that is referred to as the “Pancakewich.” Here is his resulting monologue, verbatim:

“I can only assume by your cavalier attitude that you have yet to partake in the wonderment that is the Pancakewich. Allow me to enlighten you. What happens is the one true god grows Panecakewiches on trees in the Elitian fields using a mystical incantation, he then proceeds to magic them down to your local eatery where whatever societal reject Griddlworld has rescued off the dole that week gently wraps them in cellophane and passes them along to you, the fortunate consumer. You proceed to ingest this finery in the vain hope that your obviously overmatched taste buds can somehow comprehend the delectable intricacies that face them. Is that egg? Why yes, yes it is. And bacon too. But wait, did they...? They didn't. Yes, they did, they did indeed. They added cheese. And then, then my friend, they wrapped it in a sumptuous pancake bun. As your taste buds try to process that amazing piece of information, it hits them: the syrup nugget. The motherfucking syrup nugget. It announces itself with a burst of confectionery grandiosity the likes of which your pallet has never seen!”

For the sake of simplifying this argument, let’s ignore the fact that no one knows what a pancakewich actually is, and the movie never bothers to include one. Who talks like this in real life? What possible scenario could there ever be which would justify any of this dialogue being spoken in such a heavily verbose fashion? There is a compulsory distinction to the way we speak in the written word as opposed to how we convey ourselves in the spoken; furthermore, real comedy does not come from the implication of basic spoken lines sounding obviously rehearsed. “I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell” acts as if those lines simply do not apply. I wondered for a good five minutes if the actor, Jesse Bradford, might have spoken up during the filming of this sequence to voice an opinion on the dialogue’s questionable execution. Then again, if he had that foresight, maybe his career would have taken him into better directions than this one by now.

Eventually the script requires the three characters to change their ways in some form or another, but of course they only do so to speed up a resolution, so none of them seem to happen through legitimate growth or realization. Instead, what we are given is a rather unpleasant climax in which the Tucker character, liquored up to escape the fact that he alienated his friends, comes close to sleeping with a married woman and then dashes across a hotel lobby in his underwear as a seriously bad case of diarrhea decides to reveal itself before he can make it to the restroom. It is an infuriating scene that is painfully unfunny, and yet one so reflective of the way we feel about the movie as a whole. “I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell” pushes so many buttons that it leaves you feeling embarrassed for everyone involved. And for the record, if beer really were being served in hell, then someone forgot to open a few bottles for me while I sat through this rubbish.

Written by DAVID M KEYES

Comedy (US); 2009; Rated R for nudity, strong sexual content including graphic dialogue throughout, language and some crude material; Running Time: 105 Minutes

Cast:

Jesse Bradford: Drew

Matt Czuchry: Tucker Max

Geoff Stults: Dan

Keri Lynn Pratt: Kristy

Marika Dominczyk: Lara

Traci Lords: Connie

Produced by Darren M. Demetre, Karen Firestone, Ted Hamm, Ted Hamm, Richard Kelly, Raymond Mansfield, Tucker Max, Sean McKittrick, Nils Parker, Aaron Ray, Shaun Redick, Jeff Waldman and Max Wong; Directed by Bob Gosse; Written by Tucker Max; based on the novel “I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell” by Tucker Max

Poltergeist - ***1/2 (1982)

2010-03-20T02:27:00.000-07:00

The ghost story was a fairly straightforward endeavor shackled by underlying menace in Hollywood’s golden days, but “Poltergeist” was perhaps one of the first movies to sensationalize it, to turn the idea in on itself and expose its more elaborate potential. Before it, few even knew the difference between poltergeists and hauntings, or if there was even a purpose to differentiate them; in a day when the cinema was about the growing presence of slasher films, the idea of a horror movie dealing in any part with the afterlife was superfluous. To our benefit, Steven Spielberg saw differently, and a crucial ingredient in achieving that realization may have come from his choice of Tobe Hopper as the director, whose own experience making “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” gave him perhaps the right tools as a showman to cause the stage surrounding this straightforward premise to erupt with lavish fanfare. And yet the movie is more than just a story of strange ghostly phenomenon that is upstaged by special effects or grandiose plot twists; it portrays the material realistically, uses both mind and heart in the delivery, and is played by actors who seem to have a more genuine stake in the outcome than studio execs eager to plan sequels.

Many horror flicks of the 80s spent sufficient time seeking the right nuance for a new generation of teenage movie-goers who flocked to the cinema in search of scares. Many succeeded, only a few retained their integrity. And for every great venture like “Poltergeist” or “A Nightmare on Elm Street,” there was also a “Friday the 13th” or an “I Spit on Your Grave” – that is, films that were louder and more grotesque than normal, and endeavors that allowed themselves to lose sight of the narrative foundation in favor of endless (and often pointless) blood and gore. Craven found his forte in unique premises matched with fully realized villains with the first “Nightmare” picture, and Spielberg, perhaps on a creative high from nearing completion with his “E.T. – The Extra Terrestrial,” helped establish a tone in Hopper’s endeavor that allowed it to play with concepts and arrive at new and exciting conclusions. The result was solid, neatly packaged and well written, and even in an era where the ghost story has become overwrought with absurdities and moments of surprise that arrive conveniently with shrill soundtrack cues, the movie holds up surprisingly well.

But why shouldn’t it? Here is a story that seems to exist outside of a cultural time capsule. The themes endure, the narrative structure occupies a universal sense of urgency, and the characters fulfill basic fundamental traits of a realistic suburban family. The only attribute that dates it is the special effects, still nothing more than just a minor scrutiny. Dare it be said, “Poltergeist” could have been a film made for many generations with similar results, its only discardable offense being the same one that kept it from becoming a much bigger hit in the year of its release: the fact that moviegoers are often more interested in the instantly gratifying product playing down the hall, not necessarily the one made with the intention of lasting in the mind.

The story has great fun with the opportunities both mentally and visually. Young Carol Anne (Heather O'Rourke) is a plucky, cheerful, bright-eyed girl with long blond hair and a smile as infectious as her disposition, and in the opening scenes of the film, her sense of curiosity takes on a sense of the supernatural when family members find her enthusiastically sitting in front of the TV set downstairs while it is tuned to static. Right, except there’s more to the staring. She talks to it as if it is asking her questions. She smiles at the screen, and reaches out to touch it. There is a chill sent down the spines of viewers, this specific moment contrasted by a musical score that seems more cheery than it needs to be. Yet it lays the groundwork necessary to make the premise work; in order for us find the idea effective, we have to buy into the notion that the characters are, genuinely, innocent and unknowing with what is about to happen.

And much does happen in the course of two hours to this family, too. Once Carol Anne has set up a form of psychic contact with the “TV People,” strange things begin occurring throughout the house. Chairs begin to rearrange themselves in the dining room. Earthquakes occur that none of the neighbors ever seem to be able to feel. The twisting branches of a giant dead tree that rests just outside of the kids’ bedroom takes on ominous forms in the shadows. A clown toy about the size of a Cabbage Patch doll seems to stare at young Robbie (Oliver Robbins) as if plotting something devious. Often the odd occurrences are either dismissed or greeted with a raised eyebrow, but there comes a point when nothing can be easily ignored anymore. And in a crucial moment in which the plot reveals its true horror, young Carol Anne disappears in a swirling vortex of light inside her bedroom closet (you, and no doubt your parents, might refer to it as “the other side”).

The second act of the film spends just as much time investigating the strange phenomena as it does figuring out a way for the family to cross over to another dimension in order to retrieve their daughter, whose body may be missing but whose presence is still active in the house itself. A group of paranormal enthusiasts are brought in by the girl’s parents, Steven (Craig T. Nelson) and Diane (Jobeth Williams), to document the case and assist in finding answers. Those answers, alas, are not clear to Dr. Lesh (Beatrice Straight), who is familiar with many variations of the poltergeist presence, but has never witnessed something as involved and shocking as these events. I guess kidnappings from one dimension to the next are not common cases in any paranormal division.

Their research – and the revelations that transpire during it – force them to seek help from a clairvoyant named Tangina (Zelda Rubinstein), who walks cautiously through the house’s hallways and asks questions that, well, she already knows the answers to. With her insight, guidance, and delivery of a plausible explanation of what is really going on in the next dimension, she spearheads a strategy to retrieve Carol Anne and bring her home to her parents. The plan, needless to say, requires the parents have active participation in the rescue, and why shouldn’t it? Like most of Spielberg’s early films, the emotional weight of the resolution is validated by the participation of characters with an active stake in the conflict, and not just overseers that sit out on the sides. There is, perhaps, a certain restraint in this climax because it is essentially being dictated by an individual with psychic connections to the unknown “other side” rather than someone without the slightest clue, but that is to be expected. It is also fully justified, especially when the movie shows signs that it has no intention of ending there and goes for one more ambitious round of action and shocking plot twists.

The dual climax, admittedly, could derail new viewers. It feels like it has ulterior motives, few of them meant to accomplish anything other than to show off new special effect technology (and maybe serve as a platform for the studio to extend the franchise with sequels – which they did). But there are reasons the latter one needs to be there, too. For one, the movie feels unfinished if we just expect the family to rescue their daughter and then move on with their lives. What becomes of the source of the evil? Do we just expect them to disappear where they came from? Moreover, the movie would lack a substantial defense in the case to differentiate the poltergeist phenomenon from the haunted house one if it had cut down its last act. Any attempts to limit it would allow the wool over our eyes to throttle full vision, and nothing is more infuriating than a supernatural thriller that is blind to its own cause.

Yet somehow the movie manages to strike all the right chords, and it does so without sacrificing the reliability of the screenplay. Something is always happening in this house and to these characters, but it is always something that, in their world, makes narrative sense. Too often a ghost story will forget to keep viewers and characters on the same page because they are more interested in the impulsive moments rather than the overall ambiance. “Poltergeist” is a lot more dedicated to its cause than most viewers today are probably used to. It builds to something of value. That may not make it the most profound film of its genre by any stretch, but it does make it one of the most memorable. Otherwise some of us still wouldn’t be singing its praises almost three decades after the fact.

Written by DAVID KEYES

Horror/Thriller (US); 1982; Rated PG; Running Time: 114 Minutes
Cast:
Craig T. Nelson: Steve Freeling
Jobeth Williams: Diane Freeling
Beatrice Straight: Dr. Lesh
Dominique Dunne: Dana Freeling
Oliver Robins: Robbie Freeling
Heather O'Rourke: Carol Anne Freeling

Produced by KathleenKennedy, Frank Marshall and Steven Spielberg; Directed by Tobe Hopper;Written by Michael Grais, Steven Spielberg and Mark Victor

THE VIEWING LIST (03/19/10)

2010-03-19T01:19:00.000-07:00

Ever get the feeling that some movies just do not change, nomatter how many times you view them? That’s the gist that links the core groupof pictures that were in my focus during the past week. It’s always been apleasant surprise to reassess something and realize that you might have beenwrong about it the first time, but a movie that stands up – that retains itsenergy, its purpose, and warrants the same response time after time – those areoften the films I appreciate more. We often find ourselves disgusted with thecondition of the products clogging up mainstream movie theaters, and sometimes theonly thing that keeps us from losing sight of the prize is revisiting a film thatyou know will still have the sameimpact on you that it did from day one. Dependability, indeed, is the passageto endurance in times of doubt.

The Dark Knight (2008)

What once was the most engrossing and effective comic bookexcursion on film still leaves a lasting impression, but even deeper thanbefore. Chris Nolan’s second outing with Batman reaches outside the shell ofits name and finds ground as both a stirring character study and an effectivecrime thriller. Surely, the point can be made that Nolan is also the first directorin a comic book franchise who seems genuinely disinterested in making thevisuals the foreground. The screenplay by he and David Goyer is so on targetand focused that it could almost play as a traditional urban drama, and itsperformances are so on target that they seem pulled from studies in psychologyrather than pages of comic books. Heath Legder’s performance as the Joker, nowlegendary, remains the film’s most stirring and haunting quality, and everytime he is on screen, he radiates more than just traits of a twisted personabut a certain understanding of it. It mystifies me just as much as the movieitself enraptures me. A film that must bealready owned, and seldom forgotten.

The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor (2008)

Speaking of forgotten – the third endeavor in StephenSommers’ highly successful – and highly criticized – Mummy franchise is, well,forgettable. Not that it doesn’t at least have fun with the material. The storyrevolves around the revival of an ancient Asian emperor whom, when resurrected,will no doubt cause the world to quake in fear and fall to his command. Theproblem is we just don’t care as much as we used to about characters goingafter and killing creepy mummies, and the movie isn’t nearly as ambitious orpersuasive as it needs to be to abolish our cynicism. Top that off with thefact that Rachel Weisz is no longer around to play the fetching Evelyn, andwhat you have is a two-hour invitation to guaranteed boredom. Second viewing. See it on television if there’s nothingbetter to see.

Curse of the Golden Flower (2006)

The most puzzling export to come out of Chinain generations, “Curse of the Golden Flower” is one-third of “Crouching Tiger,Hidden Dragon” and two-thirds of various plot situations straight out of the mosttwisted Shakespeare tragedies. A first viewing was inconclusive, a secondsimply maddening. Upon its third, I simply went with the experience, stoppedall attempts to analyze the effect it had on me, and left with no betterunderstanding than I had before. In that effect, perhaps it is a great movie.But perhaps it is also one with no intention other than to be twisty andconvoluted. I dunno. What I do know is this: I was fascinated by thecharacters, genuinely interested in the outcome, put off by the bombastic andover-the-top nature of the sets and costumes, and yet dazzled by the scope ofthe cinematography. What a tug-of-war. Third viewing. See it, and see if you can come to a better conclusion than I.

Milk (2008)

A star vehicle of high caliber, “Milk” is a movie thatreminds us that we routinely are unfair to our actors, often diminishing theirwork in favor of crediting the director with the positives of a finishedproduct. Thankfully Gus Van Sant is a director willing to take a step back onoccasion, and much like “Good Will Hunting” and “Elephant,” his stars findstrike a chord here that don’t just ring true but are genuinely deep enough toallow their stars to disappear into them. This marks Sean Penn’s finestperformance to date, playing the first openly gay elected public official inSan Fransisco, who in the 1970s help spearhead a movement of acceptance just asAnita Bryant swept through the nation on a crusade against homosexuality. Thegay community had to speak louder than most in order to be heard, and HarveyMilk was its first opportunity to be heard at the government level. Penn playshim to high standard, and by the end, few are left untouched. Own it on DVD, now.

Poltergeist (1982)

What can be said about a movie that has been revisited somany times by yours truly over the course of twenty years? It’s still just asfun and ambitious as the first time. The characters have presence. The story isfascinating (and perhaps, in an era when the ghost story was looking for newideas, also a benchmark). The pacing is effective. And the fact that it managesto deliver not one but two effective and exciting climaxes stresses only themost fundamental point: if you know what you’re doing as a moviemaker and notletting yourself be assaulted by convenient plot escape routes, we are capableof receiving – and appreciating – most of what you can throw at us. You probably already own it – just dust ifoff and take a trip down memory lane.

Aguirre, the Wrathof God (1972)

The first Werner Herzog movie I ever saw, and still aperennial favorite, it is the most wild and unrestrained of the director’sgreat works. Telling the tale of an ill-fated expedition into the forests of South America as characters search for the city of El Dorado, the movie is genius in the ways it creates asetup and spends its time worrying not about payoff but rather the absence ofit. Like the great contemporaries, Herzog has a great understanding of whatcreeps us out, and he uses that as an underlying force to push his charactersthrough a film that is strategically slow and tempered. Only improves with age.See it, own it, revisit it often.

- Written by David M Keyes

Aguirre, The Wrath of God - **** (1972)

2010-03-18T22:54:00.000-07:00

Werner Herzog’s “Aguirre: The Wrath of God” begins and ends with like-minded shots – the first being that of a troupe of explorers scaling down a soaring cliff side in the Andes Mountains, and the last being that of a raft tugging steadily down a river as its inhabitants are picked off one by one from sailing arrows in the distance. Both moments are a symbol of a greater puzzle destined to unfold in brooding and hypnotic passages, yet isolated they underline a greater implication, an idea that allows viewers to observe and react on the basis of behavior and subtlety above any semblance of movie structure. This is the kind of endeavor that persists in the mind not because it implores the idea of effective payoff, but rather with the thought that payoffs are irrelevant. It seeks something deeper, something more haunting and more thought-provoking than just basic core values; it knows far more about what gets under our skin than it should.

A good part of that approach stems from the vision of director Werner Herzog, who for multiple generations has been at the forefront of European cinema because he makes movies deeply saturated in themes rather than action or straightforward storytelling. “Aguirre, The Wrath of God” tells the story of man gone berserk in a nature drenched in chaos, a man who cheerfully embraces delusions of grandeur in a world too mysterious to understand, and leads countless others on an ambitious trek across dangerous terrain that will ultimately be one of astonishing failure. Herzog plays with this theory in great strokes of psychological intrigue, and his leads often stare at the camera as if hypnotized by the sullen power of the wilderness around them. To him, man and nature can only bring out the worst in each other when they meet at an intersection.

The men and women of “Aguirre” seem displaced in culture. They wear lavish robes and suits of armor as if straight out of Camelot, while the Indian slaves tug along with giant carriages on their backs as if heading to court. Neither is appropriate given their situation – led by Don Pedro de Ursua (Ruy Guerra), a troupe of travelers carrying the flag of Spain have ventured into the treacherous forests of South America in search of a legend, a place spoke about in strategic whispers by overthrown Incans: El Dorado, the City of Gold. Ursua and his would-be explorers will occasionally stare off in wonder at the mere mention of their destination, so enraptured by the idea of a land filled with riches that few other things cross their mind. That is, until the natives in surrounding forests begin picking them off with arrows and poison darts.

Only Don Lope de Aguirre (Kinski) seems indifferent of the impending threat of unseen faces in the forest. He belittles the slaves for their failure to cover more ground. He creates a sense of fear in the explorers who would prefer turning back from the forest’s dangers. He threatens their well-being in the face of rebellion. He has Ursua arrested for even suggesting retreat, even after a raft full of slaves caught in the river’s current becomes target practice for natives in the bushes. And in small but steady increments, Aguirre pulls himself further up the ladder of authority to arrive at a proclamation that leaves great desire in the hearts of his clueless adventurers: that of conquest, of rebellion, and of the opportunity to achieve independence from Spain by finding – and declaring ownership of – their prized golden city. It is a mass delusion on his part, of course, and one so strategically veiled that none of those who hear him speak are immediately aware of the implausibility of the venture. Like a cunning fox, he lures the troupe into an ill-fated situation that no one sees until it is far too late to reverse the course. And all the while Aguirre’s head is prominent and proud, his piercing blue eyes and stern lips grounded in conviction, always knowing that his deeply masked “wrath of god” will lead him and all of his followers to a destiny much darker than they realize.

The characters who populate the movie stare blankly into the distance as if long resolved to the idea of dancing with fate. Perhaps, in part, it is because the movie is knee-deep in dread. The soundtrack thumps along with pulsating vibes and no flourishing – a fine tactic to keep the feeling constant. The screenplay does not weight the themes down with heavy dialogue or action. The actors appear in outlandish wardrobes only to contrast the unknowing stares on their faces. The cinematographer Thomas Mauch puts great emphasis on framing the picture in vibrant colors, and the camera moves only when it needs to, as if to live the slow and menacing nightmare right along with the players. That the movie is extremely slow is not a flaw but an additive to its nature as an agonizing psychological experience. It is brooding, meditative, moody yet temperate, and it exists on a plane that allows the ideas to be uninhibited. Many directors have things to say about the troubled relationship between a man and nature, yet few of them do it with this much nihilism, or with such effective minimalism as Herzog.

This is because Herzog is a real filmmaker, a thinker who knows that his efforts and ideas are weighed much more greatly by, yes, experiences that can occur off camera as well. The making of “Aguirre” is almost legend in itself because of the chaos that ensued, illustrated often by historians (and Herzog himself) as a tense, difficult and often hostile set to work on. Both the director and Kinski constantly disagreed with each other on the approach of the Aguirre character and came to blows in quite dangerous ways (reportedly, Klaus threatened to walk off the set was discouraged by a gun that Werner pointed at him as a threat). The director wanted his antagonist to be subtle and beneath the surface, while the actor preferred a more frontal, tyrannical direction; in his pursuit for something less forward, Herzog would often push his star to fits of rage over script changes and refusals to compromise, finally turning on the cameras towards the end of such outbursts so that the actor was still visibly angered but on a downward slope of a enraged paroxysm. It was an approach that served both men well when they made more movies together in the coming decade, and though their greatest work together is “Fitzcarraldo,” about a man obsessed with dragging a steamship across land to a neighboring river system, it is perhaps not nearly as volatile. “Aguirre, The Wrath of God” leaves you feeling as if you are watching a documentary rather than a fictionalized drama. In some ways, what you are seeing is nothing short of the absolute truth.

What is to be said of the movie nearly 40 years after its filming? To these eyes, and from the perspective of those who have held it in high esteem for that long, it does not lose its nerve after repeat viewings. To the contrary, it gains momentum, especially in a time when even the most idea-fueled films out of both Hollywood and the independent filmmakers are glossed over with modern complexities. Its beauty lies in the uncultivated nature of the directing, of the acting, and of the writing; here we are dealing with artists near the beginning of perfecting their craft, and in their pursuit of such a prospect they endure all the hell and misery that the true artists tend to do in order to say something meaningful. What is said in “Aguirre” reflects the nature of the film’s own creation – those who expect to arrive at destiny without sacrifice are never truly taking the full risk, and in the end only the strongest (or perhaps, the most brazen) are left standing.

Written by DAVID KEYES

Drama (Germany); 1972; Not Rated, contains adult situations and graphic violence; Running Time: 93 Minutes

Cast:
Klaus Kinski: Don Lope de Aguirre
Helena Rojo: Inez
Del Negro: Brother Gaspar de Carvajal
Ruy Guerra: Don Pedro de Ursua
Peter Berling: Don Fernando de Guzman
Cecilia Rivera: Flores
Dan Ades: Perucho
Edward Roland: Okello

Produced by Daniel Camino, Werner Herzog, Hans Prescher and Lucki Stipetic; Directed and Written by Werner Herzog

Regarding the Archives

2010-03-17T00:05:00.000-07:00

Several have asked the necessary question -- "what is to become of all your old reviews?" The roster of my work, which dates back to August of 1998, is currently not online because of conflicts with the server they are ordinarily hosted on, and in order to resume writing while at the same time address the issue as to where the most stable place is to present them, they had to be pulled from the internet. Temporarily.

The host I am with will resume being the housing unit for the full archive, while new articles will be featured here. As to when the archives themselves will be back online, I can only say at this moment: hopefully soon. It is a process that is consistently in the works, but alas, a little more rigorous than it might seem. But yes, fear not, for the old will be returning to its home location shortly.

Thanks for all the inquiries, my friends!

THE VIEWING LIST (03/12/10)

2010-03-12T23:07:00.000-08:00

NOTE: “The Viewing List” is a new weekly column thatrecaps the films that have been viewed outside of the movie theater over thecourse of the prior seven days: films that are being absorbed for the firsttime, movies that are being revisited or reassessed, whatever might come theway of home theater. Additionally, because much was missed over the course offour years (when this site’s review publishing pattern was sparse at best), thenecessity to backtrack is relevant. This does not suggest that movies featuredin this section are being punished from full-length review treatment, however.What it is meant to do is serve as a personal and public record of what isbeing seen, and hopefully inspire readers to suggest additional material forviewing as well. The more we learn about cinema, the more we realize how littlewe actually know.

Written by DAVID M. KEYES

No decision is ever rash or impulsive on my part in the wayI live my life, but it was, admittedly, a spontaneous gesture on my part toresume my writing post at Cinemaphile.org this past week. My last full-lengthreview has been written last July, and though I had seen a handful of filmssince that were inspiring enough to warrant written acknowledgment, I neitherhad the energy nor the desire to spend the time and write another.

Last week, I just decided that such reasons can no longer bean excuse for leaving behind something I genuinely am passionate about. I hadto find a way to make it fun again. And the first step was actually sittingdown to watch movies again, a habit that I had, admittedly, grown out of inrecent times. Chock it up to just meaningless distractions provoking saidposition, but distractions nonetheless. Sometimes all it takes is a good movie– or a bad one, even – and a little nudge from a loved one to get a mind likethis back on track. This time I have no intention to have it detour again.

2012 (2009)

You gotta love a director who spends his whole budget onblowing Earth up in extravagant ways. Or maybe you don’t have to. RolandEmmerich, essentially the self-appointed titan of modern day disasterblockbusters, tops himself in such a way that it at least warrants observation– “2012” is thebiggest, loudest, and most ambitious movie he has ever done, filled with actionsequences that are seamless in their execution and alarming in their accuracy.You’d think the filmmakers would be more willing to attach a decent script toit, though. For every explosion there is also a cliché, and for every rash characterdecision there is a predictably pretentious speech about losing our humanity ifwe ignore the pleadings of innocent civilians being left behind. A suggestionfor Emmerich’s next disaster film: blow up the galaxy and let aliens do thetalking. Second viewing. Recommendation: watch it with the volume all theway down.

The Three Faces of Eve (1957)

Joanne Woodward won an Academy Award for her portrayal inthis movie, which chronicles the treatment of medicine’s first diagnosed caseof multiple personality disorder. In it, poor Eve White (Woodward) struggles toretain her sanity as she suffers from headaches and terrible memory gaps.Unbeknownst to her, those memory gaps are because she is sharing a body withtwo other identities that are the polar opposite of her own. The actress isstirring and convincing in the lead role, and Lee J. Cobb does excellent workas a psychiatrist in pursuit of answers in a case where nothing is concrete.First viewing. Highly Recommended.

Zombieland (2009)

Woody Harrelson stars in the newest take of the longexhausted zombie franchise, a film that abandons terror in favor of wit andsatire. The match is amusing, if a bit underwhelming. As the world becomesparalyzed with, well, brain-devouring undead, two guys and gals who remainuninfected cross paths and decide to head out to Californiato see if anyone else has survived the infection. The plot is basically just aplatform for jokes and sight gags, of course, and the movie does come up with afew hilarious moments – not the least of which is a sequence in a grocery storewhere the Harrelson character plays the banjo tune from “Deliverance” in orderto lure out blood-hungry zombies. Ultimately, most of the gags are veryinstantaneous, and like most comedies of 2009, you find yourself comfortablewith the idea of never seeing it again once it is all over. One other thingmust be said, though – what does anyone see in Bill Murray, anyway? Firstviewing. Rent it or wait for a good deal on the DVD.

Star Trek (2009)

A movie that fascinates me on multiple levels, whatfilmmakers have done is essentially taken a famous science fiction franchise,known for its kitsch, and turned it in on itself. What we get instead of theexpected camp factor is a film that is visionary in its concept, and thrillingin execution. The obvious difficulty of placing unknown actors in roles madefamous by others is but a minor hurdle on part of these filmmakers, who drawgood performances out of them on almost every interval. And what of thatvillain? Not since Khan has a screenwriter come up with such a fully realized,foreboding antagonist as Nero in this gigantic space opera. First viewing. Ownimmediately.

Alice in Wonderland - *** (2010)

2010-03-11T19:51:00.000-08:00

An outlandish world plaguesthe dreams of young Alice Kingsley during the early scenes of “Alice inWonderland,” in which she finds herself thrust down a giant hole and into arealm where rabbits wear waist-coats and carry pocket watches, smiling cats canevaporate into thin air, and social gatherings involve tea parties in whichguests recite bizarre riddles like, “Why is a Raven like a writing desk?” Poor Alice doesn’t know what to think of the ideas that takeroot in her subconscious, often awkwardly exploding into nonsensical rhetoricwhen her elders attempt to keep her focused on reality and customs. “Have Igone mad?”, she asks her concerned father during an opening scene. “I’m afraidso. You’re entirely bonkers,” he chimes in. “But I'll tell you a secret. Allthe best people are.”

We gather a similarconversation must have happened between Tim Burton and his own father, otherwisehe might have never acquired the chutzpah to take the absurd approaches that hehas in his own movies over the past twenty years. To describe a Burton endeavor is not to do it justice, either – oftenabstract in configuration and seeped in gothic influence, his movies seem toreach beyond the celluloid and seek solace in the foreboding, leaving viewersenraptured by the sharp edges and the deep ironies in his stories. The approachworked greatly in his favor for a handful of films, including “Sleepy Hollow,” afilm with all the flair and style of one of the great Germanic expressionismpieces of the silent era. Alas, in the recent years, that sense of style becamea liability in his work, and often the visuals would be elaborate distractionsfrom screenplays that lacked a challenging venture. Even “Sweeney Todd,” thedirector’s biggest critical hit to date, was little more than a collection ofpredictable sequences involving revenge, irony or eccentric characterizationsset to Stephen Sondheim music. Being different is a path of great distinction,but when it is exhausted, often it can become just another formula.

And yet these core qualitiesare exactly what make Burton the ideal director of Lewis Carroll’s zany novels. Noone else could take so direct an approach as he when adapting the material tothe big screen without sacrificing something imperative in the process; likehis own films, the books exist as if written in a vacuum, unconfined to thestructures of standard narratives and unwavering in their attempts to representthe purity of an uncultivated imagination. The basic difference, of course, isthat Burton once knew how to tell an involving story, whereasCarroll’s books are basically collections of illogical passages that lackdirection and tenacity. If the core audience has the energy to make sense ofthe material, more power to them. Speaking from personal experience, attempts atmaking some plausible sense of the mystery are almost as infuriating as themystery itself, and once its all over, you remember all the characters sodistinctively that it’s almost an insult that they are used in a narrative thatrefuses to engage them in thoughtful (if crazy) storytelling. It seems to existjust for curiosity’s sake.

Burton does not make a directadaptation of the material, thankfully; instead, he opts to age his heroine toher mid-teens, place her in a plot situation that grants credence to theexistence of her dream world, and makes modifications to Wonderland itself thatallow its story to be about actual people and conflicts rather than puzzlesmeant to mystify the protagonist. Unfortunately, the filmmakers are no closerto fully understanding this material than Carroll himself was. The movie may bea triumph of technical design and visual ideas, and the screenplay provides thecharacters with new touches that keep the ideas consistent with today’s moviefantasy, but ultimately, any improvements done to the source material aremomentary. Once the lights have gone up, no one is any closer to understandingthe appeal – or the objective – of all that transpires in this or any otherWonderland. But of course, at this point, maybe we can expect no more.

In this one, at least, we areguaranteed some unique interpretations, and the best of the lot, I think, isthe portrayal of the Mad Hatter (Johnny Depp), who is a bit more insane than weremember him from the original stories. That may or may not have something todo with the fact that his superior, the lovely White Queen (Anne Hathaway) waspushed into exile by her jealous and cruel sister (Helena Bonham-Carter), andWonderland as a result has fragmented into a realm where insanity is no longerthe cheery trait so many embrace, but rather a handicap. The Hatter almost seemself-aware of his underlying eccentricity, and at one point of the movie staresback at Alice as if she isn’t the only one who wishes she was in a lessnonsensical place.

The movie takes great libertyto play with the characterizations. The Cheshire cat is quirkier and friendlierthan normal and disappears into thin air as if made up of mist. The Red Queenis an abnormal Napoleon-esque tyrant who keeps company only with those thatfear her wrath. The Knave of Hearts (Crispin Glover) is a power-hungryopportunist that will swing whatever way the crown falls. Tweedle-Dee andTweedle-Dum are pudgy little boys who are agreeable only on wardrobe choices.The Caterpillar is smarmy and arrogant and puffs on his hookah like it were athird lung. And the Doormouse is feministic and fearless, and at one pointleaps onto the back of a Bandersnatch and plucks out its right eye with asewing pin.

Less fearless, perhaps, isthe screenwriter Linda Woolverton, who opts to close the movie with an actionsequence that involves Alice doing battle with the fearsome Jabberwock in orderto settle Wonderland’s power dispute between the sister monarchs. We can’thonestly blame her; where, after all, does a story like this need to go? Whatremains once the characters are in place and the conflict is finally at thecenter of the crosshairs? To take the venture further into the unknown would beto veer too far from the groundwork – a prospect that is appealing, yes, butone that neither director nor screenwriter are willing to make. Their movie isseeped in distinctive visuals, lavish photography and set design that recallsthe wondrous texture of “Harry Potter.” What, then, held them back on takingfurther creative opportunities with the story? As it stands, their minor amendmentsdo only enough to generate something mildly enjoyable – serviceable for a storythat needed improvements in the first place, and passable for a director who hasfelt misguided in recent times. Still, had they gone beyond the constraints ofthe name value of this story and opted for a full departure, who knows whatthey would have been capable of?

- Written byDAVID KEYES

Fantasy (US); 2010; Rated PG for fantasy action/violence involving scary images andsituations, and for a smoking caterpillar;Running Time: 108 Minutes

Cast:

Mia Wasikowska: Alice

Johnny Depp: MadHatter

Helena Bonham Carter: Red Queen

Anne Hathaway: WhiteQueen

Crispin Glover: Stayne – Knave of Hearts

Matt Lucas: Tweedledee/ Tweedledum

Stephen Fry: CheshireCat

Michael Sheen: WhiteRabbit

Alan Rickman: BlueCaterpillar

Produced by Tim Burton, Katterli Frauenfelder, Derek Frey, ChrisLebenzon, Mark L. Rosen, Joe Roth, Peter M. Tobyansen, Jennifer Todd, SuzanneTodd, Linda Woolverton and Richard D. Zanuck; Directed by Tim Burton; Writtenby Linda Woolverton; based on the novels “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”and “Through the Looking Glass” by Lewis Carroll

Downfall - **** (2002)

2010-03-11T11:34:00.000-08:00

Of all emotions that are experienced during “Downfall,” the one that we can never anticipate feeling is empathy. No, not empathy for people or for the circumstances that place them in such ominous situations; here is a movie where it is clear from all angles that those involved have made their bed, and are deservingly lying in it. Yet as the dream around them crumbles into heaps of rubble and their followers become corpses in crowded alleys, we watch the hope and strength fade from their faces and, in a brief moment, reveal some small traces of common human dignity as they prepare to accept their fate. Like the characters of the best of Shakespeare’s tragedies, the men in women of Oliver Hirschbiegel’s magnificent opus occupy the narrative like shattered mirrors of themselves, retreating to the safety of their self-delusions and often reflecting on the reasons for their impending doom with great emphasis, as if to quietly confess their evil and seek some semblance of respect before the end comes.

The movie is based on the final ten days of the Third Reich, as told from the perspective of several key figures whom were present in the Berlin bunker that Adolf Hitler retreated to as Germany was invaded by Russian forces in 1945. Key among them is Traudl Junge (Alexandra Maria Lara), the Führer's personal secretary, who for a period of three years dictated and kept record of the affairs of her boss while he waged a war against the better part of Europe. Too bad for Junge, and like most her generation, her youthful ignorance made it possible to slip through the information cracks that might have otherwise allowed her to see her employers in new light. This, she confesses, can be no excuse on part of any person associated with the Nazi party during those tumultuous years; during one of the most telling moments of the 2002 documentary “Blind Spot: Hitler’s Secretary,” she openly admits that “if you value and respect someone, you don't really want to destroy the image of that person... you don't want to know, in fact, if disaster lies beyond the facade.”

History proved that more than disaster brewed beneath the exterior of the father of Nazism. An angry, nihilistic and spiteful monster, he was nonetheless a man with such an intense drive that his radical cause became the voice of the German people for 12 years. He was, also, an ordinary human being, a fact that is easily dismissed by historians (and filmmakers) because of the great evil he brought into this world. Yes, but true evil can only happen if it comes from the human condition, otherwise it is merely nature taking its course. And nothing natural occurred in the years of World War II when tens of millions were slaughtered like cattle in his name.

The key to creating a functional movie about Hitler depends on these acknowledgments, all of which are underlined – and thoroughly dealt with – in “Downfall.” The Hitler of this endeavor is a fearsome, loathsome, loud and delusional being, caught up in such an overwhelming denial that he blatantly refuses surrender, even when the walls of his city crumble around him. And we believe this is exactly the way it happened, too. Bruno Ganz, so ordinarily gentle and sublime in his roles, takes hold of the job with clenched fists; his manner of expression, the ferocity of the delivery and the growl in his voice are so meticulous and researched, there is seldom a moment we consciously think about it as a performance. Ganz knows the challenge he is faced with by playing such a notorious historical figure and simply doesn’t let it divert him. It is a full and uncompromised embodiment.

Much of the movie takes place in his underground bunker beneath the Reich Chancellery, where all the key figures of the Nazis retreated once it became apparent that fate was no longer on their side. Here we observe as ill-fated military orders become the veneer of a dictator no longer in touch with his reality, as Russian soldiers march closer to the city’s center and he ambitiously moves armies around on a map hoping for an effective strategy. The armies, of course, no longer existed by then, and no map could tell the Führer of just how far gone Berlin had become. But he was not one to submit or escape, despite the pleadings of even his closest advisers. Only Albert Speer (Heino Ferch), the Reich’s chief architect, has the audacity to encourage his superior to stay rooted to his cause to the very end, even though everyone knows that certain death was imminent. “You must be on stage when the curtain falls,” he proclaims.

The Bunker itself is a cold, dank and depressing labyrinth of narrow halls and passages that seem to wind with never-ending determination. We sense that the dread of the characters is made all the more potent by their existence in it rather than just by the situation going on above ground; once thriving individuals in the streets of a city that showered them in rude luxuries, they have now been reduced to mere rats in an underground maze. As the men closest to Hitler huddle around their relentless leader, regaling each other with memories of better times, others begin to let go of the idealism and deal with the reality, often with jolting consequences. Consider, for instance, Magda Goebbels (Corinna Harfouch) – mother of six beautiful children and wife to Joseph, the German Minister of Propaganda (Ulrich Matthes), she is the portrait of unflinching success and drive, and no doubt any woman of any class would spend hours envying her. But the mask of her ideals falls abruptly when it becomes apparent that Hitler intends to commit suicide, leaving the Reich she loves so dearly in inauspicious shambles. Her story comes to a close with a final act so heinous and despicable, it can never be fully fathomed.

The film claims to be adapted from a handful of personal memoirs from crucial Third Reich figures, including Junge, Speer and Gerhardt Boldt, as well as a very detailed and informative book called “Inside Hitler's Bunker: The Last Days of the Third Reich” by Joachim Fest*. What is not mentioned by anyone involved – and maybe only for accuracy reasons – is that the narrative seems largely inspired by “The Bunker” by James P. O’Donnel, which too takes the approach that all the important figures in Hitler’s circle saw themselves as players in a tragedy just as much as martyrs in a failed political ideology. Most members of the final gathering are only such because they are so passionately devoted to their leader and his resolve; even in moments where his temper is explosive, the closest of his followers stare at him with unflinching awe, as if to suggest that his preferred audience consisted only of people who would show unwavering support in the face of failure. Others wisely vacate their posts when the realization of failure hits them, whereas some are opt to yield simply for their own sake. One such being is Heinrich Himmler, who dares to ask the question upon the eve of his surrender: “When I meet Eisenhower, should I give the Nazi salute, or shake his hand?”

That a single man and a group of his dedicated followers could persuade an entire generation of thinkers to follow so totalitarian a road as that of Nazism says something both genius and horrifying about our humanity. Our positions, our one-track minds could not comprehend the sadistic nature of an idea until it was far too late to reverse the act. We failed our fellow man in ensuring his safety in a time of great world economic clout, and we failed to see, to open our eyes, to the danger of rhetoric that was devised to manipulate a vulnerable populace into a position that would ultimately leave blood on its hands. This is a movie that forces us to confront those failures by viewing them from the inside – it is an unflinching, hard, relentlessly honest movie that refuses to ask questions that have easy answers. It is also brilliantly acted, written and focused, and directed by a man who knows that the path to understanding lies in the assertion that our most notorious villains wore the same flesh and blood as every man and woman that has lived on this Earth.

- Written by DAVID M KEYES

*If you are to read any of the material this movie is based on, Fest’s book is the best place to start.

Drama/Historical (

Germany

); 2004; Rated R for strong violence, disturbing images and some nudity; Running Time: 156 Minutes

Cast:
Bruno Ganz: Adolf Hitler
Alexandra Maria Lara: Traudl Junge
Corinna Harfouch: Magda Goebbels
Ulrich Matthes: Joseph Goebbels
Juliane Köhler: Eva Braun
Heino Ferch: Albert Speer
Christian Berkel: Prof. Dr. Ernst-Günter Schenck
Matthias Habich: Dr. Werner Haase
Thomas Kretschmann: Hermann Fegelein
Michael Mendl: Helmuth Weidling
André Hennicke: Wilhelm Mohnke
Ulrich Noethen: Heinrich Himmler
Birgit Minichmayr: Gerda Christian

Produced by Wolf-Dietrich Brücker, Bernd Eichinger, Doris J. Heinze, Jörn Klamroth and Christine Rothe; Directed by Oliver Hirschbiegel; Written by Bernd Eichinger; based on books and personal memoirs by Joachim Fest, Traudl Junge and Melissa Müller, among various others

The times are-a-changin’

2010-03-09T01:49:00.000-08:00

The new decade sees a sunrise over a still enigmatic horizon, and sometimes the ones who seek shade are resolved to standing out in the rays of light. For twelve years I was both the writer and the webmaster of Cinemaphile.org, a personal hub of movie-related articles, essays and editorials, and loved every minute of it. But the time also came where things were no longer fun, and passions became chores in an age when new passages were being explored. In a moment of reflection, I realized it was not the writing itself that felt labored, it was implementing the material into repetitive static HTML pages on a web design program I had been using since the early 00s. The evolution of web design meant that things could get easier, but I no longer cared about exploring those avenues. It was the written word I cared about, not the canvas it would be presented on.

So now, against any initial protest and concern, I take Cinemaphile.org to a medium that is better aligned to my own aspirations as a writer. This is not to say I have changed my initial reservations about taking an avenue I have been a vocal critic of in the past. What we have here is not so much a surrender to the ideals of a skewed blogging age as much as it is an embracing of its more trenchant qualities.

To those who have often wondered when, or if, I would begin writing anew, I invite you to stay tuned as these creative gears of mine go through a tune-up. Time away will cause rust, but the bike is just as easy to ride as ever once the legs have readjusted to the pedals.

Orphan - zero stars (2009)

2009-07-27T11:42:00.000-07:00

Horror (US); 2009; Rated R for disturbing violent content, some sexuality and language; Running Time: 123 Minutes
Cast:
Vera Farmiga
Kate Coleman
Peter Sarsgaard
John Coleman
Isabelle Fuhrman
Esther
CCH Pounder
Sister Abigail
Jimmy Bennett
Daniel Coleman
Aryana Engineer
Max Coleman
Produced by David Barrett, Don Carmody, Leonardo DiCaprio, Susan Downey, Ethan Erwin, Christoph Fisser, Michael Ireland, Jennifer Davisson Killoran, Richard Mirisch, Erik Olsen, Steve Richards, Joel Silver and Charlie Woebcken; Directed by Jaume Collet-Serra; Written by David Johnson; based on the story by Alex Mace

Official Site

Theatrical Release Date:
July 24, 2009 (US)

Review Date
07/27/09

Written by DAVID M. KEYES

A moment of distress sets in during the early stages of Jaume Collet-Serra’s “Orphan,” in a dream sequence that features a mother-to-be strapped to an operating table as her newborn, said to have died in the womb, is savagely vacuumed out of her uterus and half of its remains are handed to her in a blanket. This sequence, we learn, is an offense of repetitive nature, to be replicated at several sequential periods of the movie when characters indulge in arson, threatening the lives of others, animal abuse, the murder of nuns, sabotaging marriages, throwing school bullies off playground equipment, suffocating kids who have spinal injuries and countless other questionable acts. For 123 minutes, we find ourselves at the mercy of a story that treats all of this to not just crude and shocking proportions, but also to points that showcase obvious lapses in moral judgment and taste. Such qualities seem to be mere technicalities in an age of horror when boundaries no longer are in view, and here is a movie that makes full use of its ability to strategize the harshest, most macabre manifestations seen in any recent film plot.

But to what purpose? Mere words fail me in my attempt to decipher the goal of “Orphan,” which is an angry, bitter and abhorrent display of masochism masquerading around as a legitimate horror film. To even refer to it as a scary movie insults the very nature of the word; in claiming to fall under that header, it ignores the formula of a successful horror film by being neither horrific nor effective to substantial mental or physical purpose. It is simply an endless display of nihilistic intentions, and the fact that it dares to be so calculated with its screenplay only makes it all the more despicable. This is not a movie that is merely bad because it lacks brain or simple competence. It knows precisely what it is doing, and it doesn’t care what anyone – least of all sane, decent human beings – might say about it.

The plot deals with Kate and John Coleman (Vera Farmiga and Peter Sarsgaard), a married couple grieving over the sudden and unexpected loss of their daughter Jessica, who has died in childbirth before the movie begins. Encouraged by a family psychologist to apply the love they felt for that little girl towards something productive, they seek to adopt a needy child in order to satisfy their craving to care for someone new – and in this case, their choice comes in the form of a Russian 9-year-old.

Meet Esther (Isabelle Fuhrman), a bright and articulate young lady whose infectious charm and seemingly bubbling personality not only win the approval of her would-be adoptive parents, but also that of their youngest daughter Max (Aryana Engineer), who has desired a sister ever since her biological one passed. Poor young Daniel (Jimmy Bennett), however, is not so easily fooled; instantly he sees his new sister both as a rival for his parents’ affections as well as a nuisance to all those around her. And maybe he is right – maybe that gimmicky lady-like school wardrobe and those ever-so-cumbersome mannerisms are the work of someone who is more than just out of her element. Perhaps there is a darker side that no one is seeing.

The key to the movie’s decisive narrative failure is that it places these realizations in characters who are either too vulnerable to challenge, or too stupid to know how. The result: a never-ending antagonistic exercise in vulgarity and viciousness, played unconvincingly and over-the-top by actors who seem unaware of their predicament, and written with the skill of a snuff film. That the movie even dares to enjoy these sentiments suggests something alarming about its creators, but further dread sets in when audiences actually start responding to them. Consider, for a moment, a scene in which Esther is spied leaving a tree house by her brother, and she confronts him unsuspectingly in his room that night with a razor blade to his throat. “If you speak of any of this,” she insists, “I’ll cut your pecker off before you know what it’s for.” The screening I attended saw half of its audience force out a cold chuckle when Daniel urinates out of fear of this incident. Seriously, what the hell were they laughing at?
Hitchcock once said that a good thriller will play its audience like a piano. If that logic remains in play today, then “Orphan” plays us like Russian Roulette. And I don’t merely make that comparison because the film has the nerve to utilize it in a repulsive scene in which a loaded gun is pointed at the forehead of a little girl, either. No, the analogy comes as a result of the movie’s awkward sense of tone: a shapeless shifting between heartfelt family moments to ruthless displays of macabre that leave audience members feeling like their hearts are being stomped on. That is not to say the movie even has a heart of its own to stomp on either, and to insinuate such would be to give it credit that is unfathomable. The screenplay by David Johnson isn’t even skilled enough to offer basic structure to its developing conflict. More often than not, things play out on screen not as if they are part of a natural progression, but more like jarring circumstances tossed into a repetitive rhythm. By the time the movie bothers with climax, it is too deluded by its own warped sentiments to even deliver a passable one. The twist is nothing more than a shameless cop-out, a ploy to get audiences to see all prior material in a light with different shades of relevance.

But of course, by then, it’s a wonder that anyone cares. Jaume Collet-Serra, who also directed the 2005 remake of “House of Wax,” seems to be obsessed with exhausting his audiences through an excessive use of visual and verbal atrocity, and refusing to utilize either trait with a hint of simple tact. That the film also features 13 different producers on its credits underscores a fundamental flaw of justice in the cinema – when the fate of something questionable is being decided by more than a cluster of moviemakers, chances are too many differing feelings will result in the “let the audience decide” mentality. Here is an audience that should not have been subjected to it in the first place.

I still struggle for a resolution as to why a reputable studio like Warner Bros. is so willing to showcase this trash in a respectable theater. Are they really worried about their summer box office intake, especially when Harry Potter is back on screen? Did someone behind the scenes genuinely think of this project as promising? I found myself reminded of two of the movie’s closest cousins – “The Omen” and “The Good Son” – for a good duration of the running time. In its utilization of the “bad-children-go-nutso” theory, the movie leaves behind the persuasive, bone-chilling essence of its superiors and exchanges that for pure and utter repugnance. At least a bad movie like “The Good Son” was at least deluded enough to think of itself as respectable. “Orphan” is self-aware of its atrocity and arrogant about it, and I am ashamed to admit that I even wasted the time to volunteer two hours of my life to witness it unfold in all its repulsive grandeur.

2009, David Keyes, Cinemaphile.org.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince - ***1/2 (2009)

2009-07-15T12:32:00.000-07:00

Fantasy/Adventure (US); 2009; Rated PG for scary images, some violence, language and mild sensuality; Running Time: 153 Minutes
Cast:
Daniel Radcliffe
Harry Potter
Michael Gambon
Professor Albus Dumbledore
Rupert Grint
Ron Weasley
Emma Watson
Hermione Granger
Jim Broadbent
Professor Horace Slughorn
Bonnie Wright
Ginny Weasley
Alan Rickman
Professor Severus Snape
Helena Bonham Carter
Bellatrix Lestrange
Dave Legeno
Fenrir Greyback
Maggie Smith
Professor McGonagal
Julie Walters
Molly Weasley
Produced by David Barron, David Heyman, Tim Lewis and Lionel Wigram; Directed by David Yates; Written by Steve Kloves; based on the novel “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince” by J.K. Rowling

Official Site

Theatrical Release Date:
July 15, 2009 (US)

Review Date
07/15/09

Written by DAVID M. KEYES

The Harry Potter of yesteryear is but a distant memory. Gone are the light-hearted dining conversations between young witches and wizards and magic lessons from ambitious Hogwarts professors, and in their place exists the foreboding, fateful realization that nothing stays the same and things can only get bleaker before they are resolved. Directed by David Yates, the talented Brit who gave J.K. Rowling’s heroes and villains a sense of cinematic importance in the series’ last installment, here is a movie beyond the concept of being in awe of its special effects or weighed by its plot twists; what he has done is stripped this franchise of all its prerequisites and devised something more meditative, more dramatic and more touching one might anticipate. This is a movie that steps far outside of the comfort zone and becomes an enthralling and fully-realized gothic fantasy.

What’s more, the movie accomplishes all of this using less-than-hopeful source material. Of all the books in the series, “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince” is both the most uneventful and difficult book to wade through, primarily because it revolves almost entirely around exposition and behavioral situations rather than narrative movement. Then again, perhaps the director and his writer saw this characteristic as a chance to emphasize rudiments that are ordinarily slighted in other movies – if you make a Potter film with minimal story and action, maybe you are also making something much more challenging and thoughtful in the process.

The movie begins with an ominous tone, as Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) is dragged away from the confinements of the Muggle world by Albus Dumbledore (Michael Gambon), the aging headmaster of Hogwarts. They make many trips together throughout the course of the movie, but the first is perhaps the most important: traveling to a secluded alley somewhere in London, they arrive at the home of one Horace Slughorn (Jim Broadbent), whom Dumbledore encourages to return to teaching at Hogwarts after a lengthy absence. There are various reasons for the proposition, chief among them being that Slughorn may or may not hold an important key into uncovering the dark, unwritten history behind the power of one Lord Voldemort.

Much of the movie revolves around creating a profile on Lord Voldemort, namely in the form of Dumbledore and Potter investigating his history and revisiting memories revolved around his upbringing in order to better understand how to defeat him. Dumbledore provides routine outings for Harry using his dependable pensieve (a dish filled with water that can turn a liquid memory into a fully-fleshed out action for its observer) as the conduit, and the memories themselves are strategically extracted from dependable sources from Voldemort’s past, including his favorite former teacher Slughorn. Definitely more resonating than even the exhilarating thrills of a Quiddich game, the pensieve has effectively become the most memorable of wizard inventions in Rowling’s world, perhaps because it has unyielding candor and is capable of revealing very dangerous secrets. And in a world this well-drawn, secrets do more than change the course of a story, they leave behind echoes.

Meanwhile, Harry and his friends find themselves entering their sixth of seven years at Hogwarts in “Half-Blood Prince,” at an age when puberty begins to take over and provide its own unique set of challenges. No longer are students looking at each other with innocent and adventurous eyes, but rather with sly smiles and flirtatious demeanors. Particularly noteworthy are the subtle exchanges made between Hermione Granger (Emma Watson) and Ron Weasley (Rupert Grint), both of whom tiptoe around one another as if still caught in the groove of their youth, oblivious to every gesture and movement, as if they are the only ones in the room whom can’t acknowledge that there’s a magnetism between them. Not as obvious, on the flip side, is Harry’s subtle interaction with Ginny Weasley (Bonnie Wright), who expresses interest in Potter but seems more interested in holding him just behind the line, as if to suggest that their time is not yet at hand.

What this all leads to is a climax that is every bit as heart-wrenching as it is ambitious, as we watch the pair of teacher and headmaster unearth menacing truths, make difficult realizations and face great peril in their attempts to understand the make-up of their greatest antagonist and combat it in a way that strengthens their standing against his ongoing uprising. That the movie does this with such an emotional thrust only deepens its effect; in watching both of them build a certain unique camaraderie as they delve further into their ongoing mystery, we feel much more than fear for them as they cross into menacing territory. And in a crucial moment towards the end, we find ourselves even choking back emotion when it becomes painfully apparent that one has to remain helpless to the other in order for the fight to continue.

Slowly but surely the movies have found a way into the fabric of their source material, and “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince” exists as a reminder that, at long last, the franchise has hit its stride on screen. I was not one of the legions of admirers of early Potter installments, namely the ones helmed by Chris Columbus and Alfonso Cuaron. They simply were not apt choices as directors for this story, perhaps because a literary series this deeply saturated by its own ornate culture required someone more familiar with it, namely a British voice. Hence why Mike Newell and Yates, both of whom are from the British Isles, have made the best of the Potter films, and will no doubt continue to do so as the series prepares for its final curtain. There is a brief moment in the beginning of the film in which Harry stares at ambitious photographers, paralyzed with gloom until Dumbledore ushers him out of sight. The scene has no dialogue, no gloss and no ambitious special effect to speak of, a remarkable feat for a franchise that is thus far heavily saturated in impressive visuals and cinematography. Watching it, you get the sense that someone behind the camera now realizes how much more stirring the human element of the story is instead of the exterior presentation.

2009, David Keyes, Cinemaphile.org.

Burning Beds and Dancefloors; Remembering the lives of two generation-defining entertainers

2009-06-25T21:35:00.000-07:00

I was amazed at how deeply struck and saddened I felt onThursday when news of the deaths of Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson hit themass media. Here were two people that could be no different, set againstopposite ends of the entertainment spectrum, who had accomplished somethinglasting and then faded away from the limelight either by personal choice orlack of motivation. Indeed, when it came to acknowledging their bodies of work,our minds had often been elsewhere because they seemed so far in the past. Yetin their own ways, they lived very public tragedies in recent times thatwarranted a deeper insight from those of us on the outside, she with her braveyears-long battle with cancer and he with a decades-long decent intodepression, legal troubles and mental instability.

In both cases, both were struck down long before their timeshould have been over. Farrah’s cancer diagnosis in 200? warranted the sameinstinctive reactions many of us had when news broke about Tammy Faye’sheartbreaking battle with the disease, and as time went on we found ourselvesrooting for miracles, even in the 11^th hour when odds were slippingbeyond her favor. Recent news of her final hospitalization was coupled with anannouncement that she and Ryan O’Neal would finally wed once she was wellenough to say her vows, as if to remind us that we all most hold onto thepositives even in the face of impending mortality.

I did not have much of an opportunity to know the work ofFarrah Fawcett, but what she did was forever etched in pop culture. Her time on“Charlie’s Angels” is often cited as her defining professional achievement, astint that that re-established gender roles, caused a fashion movement (it’snot a coincidence that a hairstyle was essentially named after her!), and gavewomen a sense of empowerment that had seldom been seen on television. But forme, her benchmark work came in the form of a made-for-TV movie called “TheBurning Bed,” in which Ms. Fawcett played an abused wife whom, in an act oftemporary insanity, took charge of her dangerous situation and put an end tosomething potentially life-threatening. The role silenced those critics whoassumed that the actress was simply a beauty to be forever typecast in thebombshell role, and we both sympathized with the portrayal and felt a sense ofawe at her ability to adapt to alternate acting methods.

Farrah’s most recent professional act may prove to be her mostlasting. The recent documentary about her health struggles, in which camerasfollowed her around for the past several years while she fought tooth and nailto beat her deadly disease, now resonates more heavily than ever as news of herdeath penetrates us. Here was a woman who had passion and endurance, who lookedat her disease with a certain ferocity and showed us the immense struggle sheendured as she sought experimental treatment, went into remission and then sawherself weighed back down by a disease that refused to quit. Above all, shewanted desperately to live.

The emotional weight that comes from the passing of MichaelJackson is of a different kind. The self-proclaimed King of Pop weathered muchin his short years, not the least of which was a private life undermined byeccentricity and moral ambiguity. Yet beyond the constant ammunition heprovided for years and years to late-night comedians, the masses seem to haveforgotten why he was famous in the first place. In the wake of his death, onecan only hope that obituaries recall those vintage times first and foremost andsimply remember the troubled times as a mere sidebar.

I was a kid of the 80s, the era in which Michael was at theheight of his popularity. Not just a damned fine entertainer, Mr. Jackson wasalso a revolutionary, changing the way we looked at popular music by allowingit to be more than just about amazing hooks and polished production. Similarcan be said of his effect on music television; with a string of highly-ambitiousvideos like “Thriller,” “Bad” and “Smooth Criminal” under his belt, he openedup the eyes of a generation of music aficionados to the unending possibilitiesthat a new format like music television could provide to its growing list ofparticipators. One might even say that his drive and ambition opened the windowfor popular icons like Madonna and Prince to rise above their genre’sreputation and become lasting influences on today’s musical culture.

Even in later years, when his apparent emotional instabilityand enigmatic lifestyle began to overrun the influence of any professional workhe undertook, some of us would still grin with anticipation at what he wascapable of. I recall being one of those countless closet Michael fans whojumped for joy when the fantastic “You Rock My World” debuted on radio in 2001,much to the displeasure of a horde of naysayers who would have rather seem himeither fail miserably or simply cease to exist in the public consciousness everagain. Similar success could not be said of his last studio album, which failedon multitudes of levels, but what we were left with was the sense that, aboveall the fanfare and the debate, even a living legend was still capable ofisolated moments of greatness in his later years.

What do these untimely deaths leave us with, ultimately? Apainful realization, perhaps, that the good generally die younger than whatthey deserve. No matter the inevitability of Fawcett’s death or the shock ofJackson’s, what these events leave us with is a painful, amplified reminderthat even our heroes are vulnerable to the same fates of a general populace,and often in times when we are not ready enough to deal with the realization.

- Written by David M Keyes

The Hangover - **1/2 (2009)

2009-06-12T12:46:00.000-07:00

Comedy (US); 2009; Rated R for pervasive language, sexual content including nudity, and some drug material; Running Time: 100 Minutes

Cast
Bradley Cooper
Phil Wenneck
Ed Helms
Stu Price
Zach Galifianakis
Alan Garner
Justin Bartha
Doug Billings
Heather Graham
Jade

Produced by Chris Bender, Scott Budnick, William Fay, Daniel Goldberg, Jon Jashni, Todd Phillips, David Siegel, J.C. Spink, Thomas Tull and Jeffrey Wetzel; Directed by Todd Phillips; Written by Jon Lucas and Scott Moore

Official Site

Theatrical Release Date:
June 7, 2009 (US)

Review Date
06/12/09

Written by DAVID M. KEYES

A stroke of irony fills the air in one of the parting shots of Todd Phillips’s “The Hangover,” when a character uncovers a digital camera containing evidence of a night of exploits and hands it over to Doug Billings (Justin Bartha), who suggests that he and his friends view the photos “only once” and then delete all of them from the memory card. What this scene ultimately accomplishes is two-fold: 1) it is beneficial in tying up various loose ends purposely left open throughout several integral moments of the plot; and 2) it gives certain audience members like me an outline in attempting to reach a coherent assessment of the picture as a whole. For two hours we are cheerfully pummeled into visual and verbal submission by incredibly direct dialogue, embarrassing character situations, impossibly convoluted scenarios and ridiculous plot twists. We laugh at most of them, and sometimes even laugh at the fact that we’re being so entertained by such showy nonsense. But it is nonsense purely for the moment, because once those theater lights lift and we return to reality, we are content in the notion that the experience, no matter how amusing, is over. Here is the kind of movie that rightly disposes of itself at the moment it realizes that mindless fun is only funny for a brief time, and never in multiple doses.

The director may have mastered this trait out of mere practice. Previously behind the camera of comedies like “Starsky & Hutch,” “Road Trip” and “School For Scoundrels,” Todd Phillips appears to be content with his films being instantaneous rather than lasting, his only possible exception being “Old School” which remains greatly enjoyable even after first-time viewings. That is not to say a director of his notion is less capable of transcending the laws of generational comedy than, say, the Farrelly Brothers, but perhaps his forte in immediate gratification might, at some point, find itself on the outs un as a new generation of movie-goers arrives and expects laughs in the form of something much more frontal and vulgar than what “The Hangover” is willing to provide.

Having said that, the comedy here is rather funny. The narrative deals with four characters: Doug (Justin Bartha), Alan (Zach Galifianakis), Phil (Bradley Cooper) and Stu (Ed Helms), a group of friends who decide to have an elaborate, care-free bachelor party on the eve of their friend Doug’s marriage in the sin-soaked streets of Las Vegas. Each person is executed using distinctive character traits – Alan, for instance, is Doug’s soon-to-be brother-in-law and has unwittingly perfected a knack for being either off-the-cuff or redundant in the way he participates within a group, while Phil takes charge of situations and often embarrasses himself, and Stu treads through the screenplay as if looking for his testicles.

The formula for success for a movie like this lies in its ability to pit such quirks in a conflict of great comedic challenges, and “The Hangover” is armed with an inspired arsenal of them. We meet each of the important players on an individual basis, getting a sense of their quirks and flaws, before the plot requires them to gather into one entity and fold them into the impending plotline. The bachelor party does indeed, at least, goes off without a hitch… except that no one in the group actually remembers anything that happened the following morning, especially when the realization hits that the hotel suite is thrashed, teeth are missing, a screaming infant is in the closet, wild animals occupy the bathroom, a mattress hangs outside the window, and a certain groom-to-be has done a mysterious disappearing act. A trek in search of answers ensues, and the three remaining men, recovering from major hangovers, begin to slowly but surely put the pieces of a series of missing hours together in hopes of solving the mystery and returning their friend to his bride-to-be before the wedding day passes.

Further conflicts arise into the journey, including one where Stu realizes that he has married an attractive escort named Jade (Heather Graham), another where the Las Vegas police are after the remaining three for stealing a cop car, and another still in which an exotic cat that was stolen from Mike Tyson’s property is demanded for return, lest the culprits find themselves on the receiving end of Tyson’s violent temper. Chief among these subplots, however, is one involving a group of violent Asian thugs, whom are searching for thousands of dollars worth of missing casino chips and insist that poor unknowing Allen is actually the reason they have been misplaced. Their demand: come up with the missing money before sundown on the eve of the big wedding, and the mob will turn loose their friend in time for him to get hitched. Otherwise, his life is expendable.

That this all happens in 100 minutes is a resounding feat, the fact that it is all delivered with such a high pitch of comedic energy is another entirely. The laughs are non-stop. The characters are quirky without being self-aware. The dialogue is pointed and precise. And the endless array of embarrassing situations are a platform for all sorts of seeming spontaneity, as the laughs come not from actions but rather reactions, which by nature should seem unpredictable in the hands of open-minded actors. You get the sense, while watching it all unfold, that these men aren’t playing characters as much as they are willingly placing themselves into those situations, just to see how normal people would respond to the stampede of conflict thrown at them. It is easily the most unlabored comedy of the recent past.

But seriously, how many times has a story like this been told? At what point did the bachelor-party-turned-mishap caper become relevant again? Phillips knows these questions don’t necessarily need answers when even the most basic formula is conveyed with genuine comedic impulse, and at least “The Hangover” knows where to go for the good laughs. But they are momentarily laughs all the same, slightly dwarfed by the realization that we know all will be forgotten by the time the end credits have finished rolling. That makes the movie limited in its eventual appeal, but it does not mean it is something to be ignored, either. In this era of mass depression in all things media-related, though, at least a one-time laugh is better than none at all.

2009, David Keyes, Cinemaphile.org.

Up - ***1/2 (2009)

2009-05-31T12:54:00.000-07:00

Animated (US); 2009; Rated PG for some peril and action; Running Time: 98 Minutes
Cast
Ed Asner
Carl Fredricksen
Christopher Plummer
Charles Muntz
Jordan Nagai
Russell
Bob Peterson
Dug, Alpha
Delroy Lindo
Beta
Produced by John Lasseter and Jonas Rivera; Directed by Pete Docter; Written by Bob Peterson

Official Site

Theatrical Release Date:
May 29, 2009 (US)

Review Date
05/31/09

Written by DAVID M. KEYES

What a delightful, ambitious, sweet and good-natured undertaking this is! Pixar’s “Up,” the studio’s tenth feature-length endeavor and first to be filmed in 3D, opens on a note of human subtlety that goes beyond what we expect of a cartoon and grows into what may very well be the most touching human drama of the year. We are used to seeing many things from the minds of this high-functioning production company, ranging from charming shorts to brilliant fully-realized feature films, but as always you can never really know what is hidden in that big hat of tricks. Ten films later, and after great achievements like “Wall-E,” “Finding Nemo” and “The Incredibles,” we now realize that we are not simply dealing with animators but visionaries, who treat their craft with all the care and precision of a director straight out of Hollywood’s golden age.

“Up” continues the tradition. A vibrant, imaginative menagerie of quirky adventure, good-natured storytelling and whimsical characterizations, the movie concocts an approach that opens doors for all sorts of creative whims to flourish from. It tells the tale of Carl Fredricksen (voiced by Ed Asner), who was the kind of kid that stared on in awe and the simplest things because the world seemed so much bigger than it really was. He looks on in a sense of wonderment at old news reels featuring his hero Charles Muntz (Christopher Plummer), an adventurer who discovered a world of exotic wildlife in the heart of South America and has vowed to never return until he can bring the wildlife home and prove to the general public that his discoveries are not, contrary to media speculation, fabricated. It is under the trance of this famed adventurer that Carl meets Ellie, a girl with her own enthusiasm for exploration, who vows to one day have her clubhouse sit atop the Cliffside overlooking Paradise Falls in said South American region so she can embark on equally-enthralling adventures. They bond over their idolization of Muntz, who serves as a platform not just for their friendship, but also for a courtship that fills the film’s prologue with a series of touching, dialogue-free sequences that chronicle their lives together.

In present day, Ellie has passed on, Carl lives alone in the house they shared a life in, and land developers are developing his neighborhood into a thriving commercial real estate venture, with the old man’s house being the final hold-out. Unfortunately, a court summons on part of the developer forces Carl to abandon the only home he knows and spend the rest of his days in a retirement home – a situation that he simply refuses to see himself in. What is a former balloon salesman to do, then? Simple: fill up thousands of balloons with helium, tie them to the fireplace and sit back while the house is carried up, up and away; or rather, up and away to South America, just as he and his wife had dreamed of doing in their youth.

Carl’s trip isn’t taken alone, either. A wide-eyed, cheery wilderness explorer scout named Russell (Jordan Nagai) stows away below his house just as it is elevated, perhaps for no authentic reason other than to supply the plot with a youngster that kids in the audience can identify with. He is one of the more memorable children in recent Disney animation, at least; pudgy-cheeked and eager to take in the excitement around him without intentionally looking for it, his presence acts as the perfect counter-balance to the stone-faced and naïve determination of his companion. For him, going to Paradise Falls is no longer about adventure, but rather about seeking closure to a life-long dream that couldn’t be completed while his wife was alive. Needless to say, the movie takes him on necessary detours.

That all of this is conveyed with such a dazzling array of color and ambition certainly assists in the payoff. The movie was directed by Pete Docter, who was also at the helm of the vivid “Monsters, Inc.”, and here he supplies Bob Peterson’s ambitious screenplay with a palate of bright and lush hues that pop out so distinctively, they almost don’t need the 3D technology. Moreover, the movie seems framed as if it were live action, staged in such a manner that would warrant great praise for effective cinematography had it been devised in live action. Consider a sequence involving Carl’s house engaged in a mid-air dogfight with a giant silver airship: not only is it executed with grand flair and craftsmanship, parts actually feel inspired by some of the better aviation movies of vintage Hollywood, including William Wellman’s “Wings” and Howard Hughes’ “Hell’s Angels.” Likewise, the interiors of the giant airship seem less like backgrounds and more like walks through those old dining halls crowded with important people, except that everyone has gone home.

What surprised me most about “Up,” perhaps as both a film reviewer and a movie-goer, is that I found myself feeling like a kid the entire time I was absorbing it, being completely caught up in the story, engaged by the characters and hopeful about the outcome without consciously thinking about anything else outside my own immediate joy. Animation – or rather, genuinely great animation – has the ability to offer not just escape but momentary absolution; it offers us the chance to leave all our cares and concerns in the shadows of a movie theater, exchanging them with all things whimsical, comical, innocent and exciting, and in many cases even frightening or horrific. It is within those qualities that the greatest lessons about life are learned, and though “Up” is not quite in the class of the Disney greats like “Pinocchio” or “Beauty and the Beast,” it is arguably the first of the Pixar films to genuinely grasp the formula of success behind the vintage animate feature. It is also, in its own right, one of the studio’s finest and sweetest endeavors thus far. I left the theater grinning from ear to ear.

Terminator: Salvation - *** (2009)

2009-05-21T12:42:00.000-07:00

Action/Sci-Fi (US): 2009; Rated PG-13 for intense sequences of sci-fi violence and action, and language; Running Time: 110 Minutes
Cast:
Christian Bale
John Connor
Sam Worthington
Marcus Wright
Moon Bloodgood
Blair Williams
Helena Bonham Carter
Dr. Serena Kogan
Anton Yelchin
Kyle Reese
Jadagrace
Star
Bryce Dallas Howard
Kate Connor
Produced by Jeanne Allgood, Derek Anderson, Moritz Borman, Chantal Feghali, Bruce Franklin, Steve Gaub, Peter D. Graves, April A. Janow, Mario Kassar, Victor Kubicek, Dan Lin, Joel B. Michaels, James Middleton, Anjalika Mathur Nigam, Jeffrey Silver and Andrew G. Vajna; Directed by McG; Written by John Brancato and Michael Ferris

Official Site

Theatrical Release Date:
May 21, 2009 (US)

Review Date
05/21/10

Written by DAVID M. KEYES

The ominous fashion in which “Terminator Salvation” begins its existence on screen does little to calm the nerves of franchise devotees worried about a film that is missing a quintessential action hero, but it does offer new challenges. Instead of being faced with bleak setups or recaps of prior finales, the movie instead opts to open in a jail cell in 2003, where a death row inmate (played by Sam Worthington) is visited by a mysterious figure known as Dr. Kogan (Helena Bonham Carter). She is there in a last-ditch attempt to get him to sign over the rights of his cadaver for scientific study, specifically for purposes of cancer research (as suggested by her ghostly, balding appearance). A little persuasion works in her favor, and mere hours before one Marcus Wright faces his lethal injection, the company which Dr. Kogan represents becomes the legal owner of what will remain of this prisoner. Flash forward 15 years: judgment day has happened, Earth’s surviving humans are in isolated pockets across the globe waiting to rise against the machines, and Marcus appears seemingly out of thin air, alive and breathing, with no memory of his whereabouts since that fateful day of his execution.

The idea that “Salvation” dares to turn its focus away from obligatory targets for even a brief time emphasizes the forwardness of its writers, who most might have expected to simply tell a straightforward story about the apocalypse and its hero. But the movie does none of those things; rather, it takes both setting and protagonist and hurls them from a platform anchored in traditional action traits into an endeavor that balances it with rich and unsettling mysteries. There is no question that John Connor is intricate enough a character to sustain plot direction for multiple more sequels in this series, but here he is (almost fittingly) upstaged by a competitor who forces us to ask deeper questions than we are used to from a “Terminator” film.

Not that John Connor is any less diminished than he should be. Played here for the first (but probably not last) time by Christian Bale, the movie focuses primarily on a plotline that involves John searching for one Kyle Reese (Anton Yelchin), a survivor of Skynet’s hostile takeover of Earth whom, series purists will remember, is destined to be sent back in time and become John’s own father. In “Salvation,” however, we meet Kyle almost by accident, when he steps in to save an aimlessly wandering Marcus from being killed in a Los Angeles alley by a gun-toting terminator. Overrun by machines from every angle, the teenage rebel speaks often in swift but brief episodes of an impending uprising against Skynet forces, encouraged by the voice of a man – John Connor – whom the scattered masses have come to consider a prophet in the war against the machines. Good for them, bad for Connor; already exhausted by the endless array of run-ins he had in the distant past with terminators sent back in time with intents on either killing or protecting him, here is a man with so much responsibility that his actions seem dictated by not just compassion for humanity, but perhaps also an unwritten obligation to uphold his image. Nonetheless, when an alliance of resistance fighters plans to interrupt transmission signals over Skynet headquarters in order to blow up the facility with living prisoners inside, John expresses immediate disapproval. What is the point, indeed, in beating machines if you are simply thinking like them in order to win a war?

The screenplay by John Brancato and Michael Ferris finds itself at an interesting crossroad in the sense that it requires the story arc to follow specific avenues in order to validate the elements of the first “Terminator” film. In that sense, the movie feels almost prequel-ish in that necessity, particularly with the development of the Kyle Reese character, who seems young and rough enough around the edges to allow breathing room, but is really fully developed at the basic core because, well, we already know his older self so well. This is not to discredit the screenplay in that approach, however; given its choices, the movie makes fitting decisions in filling in gaps and knows exactly when to make necessary departures in order to live on its own creative whims.

Which brings us back to the Marcus Wright character, a man filled with wonder and worry as he wanders a world overrun by machines and impending death for those lucky enough to survive as long as they have. In truth, Marcus is simply a machine without self-awareness, whose death and subsequent rebirth as a terminator has seemingly left him with traces of his original consciousness. This creates an interesting dilemma for both himself and the characters around him. Can he be trusted? Should he be feared? Does his awareness of his own free will and memories allow him to overcome the machine interface? Or is he simply processing an illusion of humanity, programmed in such a distinct way that not even he himself is aware that all his actions and thoughts are pre-installed? These are great, evolved, fully-realized questions briefly touched on in the first films, when the terminators were given flesh-and-blood shells to hide under. Yes, but those terminators were also never living organisms in the first place, whereas Marcus had a mind and soul. The fact that his new structural existence allows him to retain his initial vital human organs certainly adds weight to the arguments.

As a thinker’s movie, “Terminator Salvation” is in the tradition of the most visionary science fiction. But as an action picture, it must be said, the movie is fairly straightforward, plain, and perhaps too generic for its own good. Not content to push any new boundaries from both a visual and technical perspective, we are often encouraged to slog our way through two hours of constant cat-and-mouse chase sequences, elaborate explosions, loud shoot-outs and vulgar displays of uber-macho sensibility. Why is it that men in sci-fi movies often spend most of their verbal discussions either shouting or renouncing military-style orders without actually thinking of all the angles first? Better yet, why do so many action flicks with a post-apocalyptic canvas almost always require their men to appear ratty and fully-clothed while all of its female characters are half-naked and physically fit? The movie does nothing to defy that formula. For those more interested in the psychological aspect, this will not be that big a detractor; but for those more concerned with the overall package, the result is, sad to say, fairly ordinary in the grand scheme of things. And for a movie that is likely to attract an audience simply based on its exterior, that could spell big trouble for its future at the box office.

Still, there is no denying that there is still much to be appreciated here. The story is straightforward without being boring. The characters are fully realized. And even more than that, I admire the mere notion that any writer, experienced or otherwise, could muster up the courage to devise a premise that requires some focus to be taken off of all its intended targets for the purpose of elevating something new and unheard of. There is great risk in moving the crosshairs onto something vague, especially in a series as directly focused as the “Terminator” franchise, but it is a risk that works. By the end of the installment, I even found myself more interested in how Marcus Wright would resolve his own crisis rather than how John Connor would be able to save Kyle Reese’s life and prevent the destruction of the narrative timeline.