Scott Pilgrim vs. The World (2010)
Grade: A-
Starring: Michael Cera, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Ellen Wong, Kieran Culkin, Mark Webber, Allison Pill, Jason Schwartzman, Chris Evans, Brie Larson, Brandon Routh, Satya Bhabha, Mae Whitman, and Anna Kendrick
PREMISE: A young man falls head-over-heels in love when he lays eyes on an attractive tough girl who's new to his neighborhood, but it turns out he must defeat all of her ex-boyfriends in combat to earn the right to date her.
RATED PG-13 for stylized action violence, language (including sexual references), and sensuality
Scott Pilgrim vs. The World is unlike any movie you’ve ever seen, and one that will leave many viewers absolutely starry-eyed with delight. An outrageously clever mix of teen romance and special-effects bonanza, it's filled to the brim with action, humor, and imaginative razzle-dazzle that crosses genres, kicks aside cliches, and begs sensible viewers to toss their disbelief straight out the window. If you have more than a passing interest in video games, this is unquestionably the movie for you, as what stands as a quirky rom-com quickly becomes what can only be described as a video game brought to life.
What would you do if the gorgeous love of your life left you, only to become a mega-successful pop star? That’s the issue facing Scott Pilgrim (Michael Cera, best-known for his work in another quirky romantic comedy, 2007’s Juno). Scott is between jobs, shares a seedy Toronto apartment with a gay socialite (Kieran Culkin), plays bass for a low-brow garage band (called Sex Bob-Omb), and tries not to think about his ex, Natalie, aka 'Envy' (Brie Larson), who has become the lead singer dynamo of a popular local music outfit. His first relationship post-Natalie turns out to be with Knives Chau (Ellen Wong), a 17-year-old Chinese schoolgirl, who is lively and optimistic but invites upon Scott endless taunting from his friends and snappy younger sister, Stacey (Anna Kendrick).
The uninspiring landscape of Scott’s life is one day lit up by dreams of a violet-haired, stunning young woman (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), who turns out to be real—Ramona Flowers recently moved to the area and has all the guys gawking at her attitude and sense of style. Instantly smitten, Scott orders a package from her workplace, Amazon, and refuses to sign for it until she agrees to go out with him. The date seems a little uneven, as Scott feels foolish and lame accompanying this girl who’s way out of his league, but she seems a little lonely, and appears willing to cuddle with minimal provocation. And, though it costs him the comfort of his relationship with Knives—who has become a fanatical supporter of his band just as it’s poised on the verge of a berth in a local Battle of the Bands competition—Scott instantly knows Ramona is The One. But there’s one problem: Ramona has her share of baggage.
That baggage soon manifests itself, as first one, then another, then another, of Ramona’s Seven Evil Exes, a League supposedly formed by the ultimate ex-boyfriend, Gideon, come to Scott with the intent to dole out some punishment. After an eye-popping mid-concert encounter with the first (Satya Bhabha), Scott is informed that he must defeat all seven if he’s going to date Ramona. So, as Scott’s band pushes further into Battle of the Bands, with the chance to play before some big music producers, Scott comes face to face with all seven, while a heartbroken and obsessed Knives dogs his every move.
The transition from admittedly eccentric comedy, to superhero fight fest, is a little jarring, though you have already been clued in by the Super Nintendo-esque pixelated presentation of the Universal logo during the opening credits, and the fact that sound effects like the phone ringing are spelled out (RIIIIIING) onscreen a la old cartoon shows, and fast-cut, split-screen editing reveals the comic book-ish intentions. So prepare to expect the unexpected: Scott’s battle royale fight scenes with the exes are not shown as dreams or fantasy sequences but real-time fights where you get reaction shots from the audience, with each defeated foe turning into a shower of coins and “points” that Scott can collect, en route to “leveling up”. Weapons come into play later, as do faceless minions that need offing, plus short animated sequences detailing the backstories of each ex. That Scott Pilgrim comes from a graphic novel series will surprise no one; the movie’s approach, which is to literally put that graphic novel onscreen, may.
But it’s a fantastic amount of fun. The quick editing is ideal for punch line after punch line, and the movie is largely a laugh riot, what with its constant situations of dramatic irony, tongue-in-cheek information passed to the audience by onscreen text boxes, and the dry, crackling humor of both the dialogue and the plot developments, which get zanier and zanier.
The actors are all game, with all of them performing admirably, even when sometimes called upon to go from cartoonish derring-do to real-life drama in the same scene. Cera does his dweeby act well, showing sharp comic timing and yet bringing genuine feeling to his character who, we soon see, is fighting for himself as much as for Ramona. Ellen Wong is a delight as Knives, who, in the film, runs the gauntlet from private-school ingénue to fanatical groupie to spurned ex; the actress brings endearing energy and emotion to all her scenes. Among the Exes, Captain America’s Chris Evans is hoot-worthy as a cocky action star with eyebrows of steel, Brandon Routh is a cut-up as a hunky but airheaded vegan, and Jason Schwartzman chews scenery with gusto as the hilariously-literal Gideon ("Do you know HOW LONG it took me to get all the other exes' contact information? Like TWO HOURS!!!").
One of my main problems with the movie, though, is Winstead’s performance as the supposedly to-die-for Ramona. It may not be the actress’s fault-she’s decidedly underwritten-but while I get that her promiscuous coolness is attractive, her character otherwise comes off as distant and, ultimately, rather uninteresting. In her final scenes she’s able to make understandable the pain of a young woman who keeps getting rejected in her search for acceptance and love, but, other than her bright and constantly changing hair (violet to blue to neon green), she’s largely forgettable.
The visual effects, all done with a cartoonish edge, are flashy but never overwhelm the characters, the soundtrack is likewise never overbearing, and there are dozens of little witty touches that keep this movie interesting.
So, do I recommend it?
Well, just as Hugo’s morphing from a kiddie friendship story to a history-of-film-study was a little sudden (if well-crafted), Scott Pilgrim might throw viewers who are expecting something more serious. There is a handful of sexual innendos, a fair amount of cursing, and, of course, lots of stylized action, but it’s the presentation of the content that might create problems. I wouldn’t recommend this movie to everyone, but, if you’re willing to leave disbelief and rational expectations at the door and just let this movie pull you in, you’re in for a fun time.
Bottom line (I promise):
The most freakishly-enjoyable film I’ve seen in a long time, Scott Pilgrim is an eyebrow-raising but likable movie that might just be the most original thing you’ve ever seen.
Scott Pilgrim vs. The World (2010)
Directed by Edgar Wright
Based on the graphic novels by Bryan Lee O'Malley
Written by Edgar Wright and Michael Bacall
Rated PG-13 for stylized action violence, language, and sensuality
Length: 112 minutes
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Friday, February 24, 2012
A BETTER LIFE
A Better Life (2011)
Grade: B+
Starring: Demian Bichir, Jose Julian, Dolores Heredia, Joaquin Cosio, Bobby Soto and Carlos Linares
PREMISE: A devastating loss forces an illegal immigrant and his teenage son to take a road trip in which they could either reconnect or truly grow apart.
RATED PG-13 for some violence, language, intense emotional content, and some drug use
To put it plainly, A Better Life-a poignant, gripping film-is the story of a father and a son.
If Carlos Galindo (a tremendous Demian Bichir) ever had any big dreams, he's long-since given them up. If he has any dreams, he doesn't talk about them. But, from watching a few scenes of A Better Life-and taking into account the title itself-one can assume that his ambition is to make sure his teenage son, Luis (Jose Julian), has a better life than he's had. An illegal immigrant, Carlos lives in a tiny house and works seven days a week, usually alongside his gardener/landscaper friend Blasco. He works those long hours in the hopes that he can scrape together enough money to move his son into a more promising area-Luis currently attends a school in Los Angeles that looks uncannily like a prison, and walks to and from school through slums simmering with the ever-present threat of gangs who are always looking to "adopt" new members.
Carlos is lucky enough to not have to wait on the corners of back alleys clamoring for work from random passerby, like so many of his peers, but he has problems aplenty, including the tempting but expensive possibility of obtaining Blasco's truck and work tools (which would guarantee him more jobs and more money) and his deteriorating relationship with Luis, who is already drifting into unsavory company, including a friend (Bobby Soto) who's on the verge of joining one of those gangs, and a feisty, foulmouthed girlfriend (Chelsea Rendon). Because of Carlos' work schedule-he leaves the house at sun-up and comes home after sundown-they rarely spend time together, but when an unprecedented disaster strikes, they're forced onto a road trip of sorts that may be just the thing Carlos has been looking for to erase that space between them.
What the film becomes is a study in the primal need of a father to be near his son, and, to a lesser extent, a son to his father. And, of course, they key here is for the father to be accepted by the son. The disaster that strikes their lives is utterly shocking, but the fact that it causes them to begin spending time together turns into almost as much of a blessing as a curse, at least to Carlos. After all, his son is able to see him in action-his natural generosity, smarts, and bravery-and the son is able to contribute with his resourcefulness and sense of commitment. Despite the circumstances, you know Carlos is thrilled when Luis proclaims-late in the film-"that was the most amazing thing ever!" No doubt equally thrilling to the father is the moment when his son seems down for the count--angry and embarrassed by his father's discipline in a key moment, Luis can easily stay at his friend's house, smoking weed and chilling while ignoring his father's invitation to rejoin him on their journey-but he can't seem to resist the idea of another adventure.
The two actors at the film's center are very effective, with Oscar-nominee Bichir taking the weight of the world onto his shoulders, but not letting anything get in the way of his quiet nobility. You see the pain and joy in his eyes with each interaction with his son, and his quiet determination is effectively touching. Julian has a less-colorful part but does a great job of showing how torn Luis becomes--he could get the girl, the "friends", and the reputation if he gave in to the gangs' advances, but what he really is, is a boy who needs and, though he is loathe to admit it, wants, that unavoidably-important male relationship in his life, the one with his father. Their scenes together are sometimes painful-with the son often scorning his old-fashioned, "uncool" father-but their vibrant emotional connection cuts to the heart when it really needs to.
So, do I recommend it?
Yes. Men might get more out of it than women, but that's not a promise, as this is a genuinely-affecting film that almost everyone can relate to in some way. It's not as emotionally-tormenting as, say, The Pursuit of Happyness, but it can be intense. It tells a very human story--this isn't just a movie about immigrants; any kind of father/son pairing could be featured here. Every father will see a bit of themself in Carlos; many probably more than they wish. They will ache for Carlos. A Better Life is quickly-paced, with a number of edge-of-your-seat sequences in its involving plot, and, as far as content, there is some bad language, but nothing too off-putting. Younger viewers may find themselves lost or overwhelmed, though, as the material can be dramatic.
Bottom line (I promise):
A quietly-intense film that might move you to tears, A Better Life is powerful and impressionable.
A Better Life (2011)
Directed by Chris Weitz
Written by Eric Eason and Roger L. Simon
Rated PG-13 for language, some violence, and a few instances of drug use
Length: 98 minutes
Grade: B+
Starring: Demian Bichir, Jose Julian, Dolores Heredia, Joaquin Cosio, Bobby Soto and Carlos Linares
PREMISE: A devastating loss forces an illegal immigrant and his teenage son to take a road trip in which they could either reconnect or truly grow apart.
RATED PG-13 for some violence, language, intense emotional content, and some drug use
To put it plainly, A Better Life-a poignant, gripping film-is the story of a father and a son.
If Carlos Galindo (a tremendous Demian Bichir) ever had any big dreams, he's long-since given them up. If he has any dreams, he doesn't talk about them. But, from watching a few scenes of A Better Life-and taking into account the title itself-one can assume that his ambition is to make sure his teenage son, Luis (Jose Julian), has a better life than he's had. An illegal immigrant, Carlos lives in a tiny house and works seven days a week, usually alongside his gardener/landscaper friend Blasco. He works those long hours in the hopes that he can scrape together enough money to move his son into a more promising area-Luis currently attends a school in Los Angeles that looks uncannily like a prison, and walks to and from school through slums simmering with the ever-present threat of gangs who are always looking to "adopt" new members.
Carlos is lucky enough to not have to wait on the corners of back alleys clamoring for work from random passerby, like so many of his peers, but he has problems aplenty, including the tempting but expensive possibility of obtaining Blasco's truck and work tools (which would guarantee him more jobs and more money) and his deteriorating relationship with Luis, who is already drifting into unsavory company, including a friend (Bobby Soto) who's on the verge of joining one of those gangs, and a feisty, foulmouthed girlfriend (Chelsea Rendon). Because of Carlos' work schedule-he leaves the house at sun-up and comes home after sundown-they rarely spend time together, but when an unprecedented disaster strikes, they're forced onto a road trip of sorts that may be just the thing Carlos has been looking for to erase that space between them.
What the film becomes is a study in the primal need of a father to be near his son, and, to a lesser extent, a son to his father. And, of course, they key here is for the father to be accepted by the son. The disaster that strikes their lives is utterly shocking, but the fact that it causes them to begin spending time together turns into almost as much of a blessing as a curse, at least to Carlos. After all, his son is able to see him in action-his natural generosity, smarts, and bravery-and the son is able to contribute with his resourcefulness and sense of commitment. Despite the circumstances, you know Carlos is thrilled when Luis proclaims-late in the film-"that was the most amazing thing ever!" No doubt equally thrilling to the father is the moment when his son seems down for the count--angry and embarrassed by his father's discipline in a key moment, Luis can easily stay at his friend's house, smoking weed and chilling while ignoring his father's invitation to rejoin him on their journey-but he can't seem to resist the idea of another adventure.
The two actors at the film's center are very effective, with Oscar-nominee Bichir taking the weight of the world onto his shoulders, but not letting anything get in the way of his quiet nobility. You see the pain and joy in his eyes with each interaction with his son, and his quiet determination is effectively touching. Julian has a less-colorful part but does a great job of showing how torn Luis becomes--he could get the girl, the "friends", and the reputation if he gave in to the gangs' advances, but what he really is, is a boy who needs and, though he is loathe to admit it, wants, that unavoidably-important male relationship in his life, the one with his father. Their scenes together are sometimes painful-with the son often scorning his old-fashioned, "uncool" father-but their vibrant emotional connection cuts to the heart when it really needs to.
So, do I recommend it?
Yes. Men might get more out of it than women, but that's not a promise, as this is a genuinely-affecting film that almost everyone can relate to in some way. It's not as emotionally-tormenting as, say, The Pursuit of Happyness, but it can be intense. It tells a very human story--this isn't just a movie about immigrants; any kind of father/son pairing could be featured here. Every father will see a bit of themself in Carlos; many probably more than they wish. They will ache for Carlos. A Better Life is quickly-paced, with a number of edge-of-your-seat sequences in its involving plot, and, as far as content, there is some bad language, but nothing too off-putting. Younger viewers may find themselves lost or overwhelmed, though, as the material can be dramatic.
Bottom line (I promise):
A quietly-intense film that might move you to tears, A Better Life is powerful and impressionable.
A Better Life (2011)
Directed by Chris Weitz
Written by Eric Eason and Roger L. Simon
Rated PG-13 for language, some violence, and a few instances of drug use
Length: 98 minutes
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
DRIVE
DRIVE (2011)
Grade: C
Starring: Ryan Gosling, Carey Mulligan, Albert Brooks, Bryan Cranston, Oscar Isaac and Ron Perlman
PREMISE: A withdrawn young man who develops feelings for his pretty neighbor has to protect her and her family from ruthless mobsters.
RATED R for strong, bloody violence, language, and brief nudity
Drive is exactly the sort of movie I hoped it wouldn't be. It's got an intriguing premise, some nifty action sequences, strong actors, and its composer, Cliff Martinez, could teach classes on how to create suspense with a busy, ominous, pulsing score, yet it ultimately feels a little too empty and bleak. Done more 'Hollywood' style, Drive would probably be longer, bloodier, funnier, certainly more talky, and it would probably have a happy ending that might feel a little unrealistic and kinda schmaltzy--but I would like to see that version. That's because I felt Nicolas Winding Refn's dark, frustratingly-silent film doesn't give you, as the viewer, enough to connect with, which is a shame, because it has the parts to be a great movie.
The only name given Ryan Gosling's withdrawn leading man is Driver, which is perfectly acceptable, since all we ever learn about him is that he spends time around cars--he works in a mechanic's garage, gets some extra cash working as a stunt driver for film productions, and occasionally moonlights as a getaway driver for local criminals. His boss and friend Shannon (Bryan Cranston), brags on him and believes that he could do anything with cars, even move up to the big-time racing circuit, provided they get a little financial assistance from a pair of local mobsters (Albert Brooks and Ron Perlman). Driver, an exceptionally-quiet individual who lives alone, knows enough about cars to see, about 20 minutes into the film, that the ratty old car belonging to his pretty neighbor Irene (Carey Mulligan) isn't going to get her home from the grocery store, so he offers to give her and her young son Benicio (Kaden Leos) a ride. Irene seems lonely, too-her husband is in prison and she works as a waitress and single mom-and Driver immediately feels a connection to her. And not only is he a nice, good-looking guy, but he takes a fancy to Benicio, which is, of course, the way to any mother's heart.
But when her husband Standard (Oscar Isaac) comes home, vowing to use his second chance for good, Driver immediately senses a disturbance. Standard may not be the typical nasty ex-con husband-there's no evidence that he mistreats Irene or Benicio-but he's also knowingly-endangering them by accruing debts he knows he can't pay. After Driver finds Standard bloodied by some of the mobsters' thugs, with Benicio huddled nearby, horrorstruck, Driver signs up to help Standard and an accomplice rob a pawn shop with the intent to score enough money to get Standard "out". When the theft attempt goes awry, Driver realizes he can't trust anyone, not his potential car-racing sponsors, not his boss, no one except Irene, who has no idea what's going on and what could happen to her and Benicio unless the right people get paid, or get taken care of.
Watching Drive, you keep waiting for something to happen. The score I mentioned is freakishly ominous and contributes to a nearly constant sense of foreboding. It occasionally dials up the volume to screechy, psychedelic levels with a variety of rock and pop songs, but usually just pulses, drums, hums in the background. It was highly-effective, keeping my stomach in a knot, and it's also necessary, as the movie can be exceptionally quiet otherwise. An early scene in which Driver eludes the police-with a pair of guys who just committed robbery in his back seat-is exceptionally well-done; without dialogue, you're able to hear the commentators of the basketball commentators on the radio, the screech of the speeding car's tires, the hiss of other traffic, the chatter on a handheld police scanner Driver has, and the chopping of a police helicopter's blades overhead. Until about the mid-way point of the film, in which Driver is proposing his offer to help Standard and his accomplices rob the pawn shop, Gosling barely has one page's worth of dialogue. Same with Mulligan--Driver and Irene's connection is shown as almost entirely nonverbal-with lots of warm smiles and knowing glances. But that silence gets to be frustrating--like I said, you're given just enough to buy Driver and Irene's connection, but you keep waiting for something to happen. Irene must be desperate for company, because why else would she keep this quiet, rather awkward man around so much?
Not that the acting is bad. Gosling brings his usual intensity, with his eyes blazing in his smoothly-intelligent face, but this feels like a walk in the park for him; he could do so much more. Mulligan, likewise, is impressive in a small part--it's quite a task making an audience care so much about a character who's given so little to work with. Albert Brooks brings an air of menace to his privileged thug, Ron Perlman makes a much more effective impression than he's been able to in a lot of his recent sci-fi sidekick outings (Conan the Barbarian, Season of the Witch), and Oscar Isaac makes you feel both sympathy and disquiet as a supposedly-reformed family man.
I was worried about watching Drive, mainly because of the promise of "Strong Brutal Bloody Violence" under the rating logo on the back. It is bloody, but there's nothing jaw-droppingly horrible happening, or maybe that's just someone who's seen a lot of movies talking. But what is jaw-dropping is how withdrawn Gosling's Driver is. It gets to be a little bit frustrating-you want to care about him, and you want Irene to care about him, but, surely, the movie has to give you SOMETHING. It doesn't just feel like the character-it feels like the writer and director deliberately withholding dialogue. It's not a bad effort, just disappointing. And for what it's worth, you do feel enough for Driver and Irene that the increasing body count late in the film doesn't crush all your hopes for the redemption of humanity, but the mood does plummet as you see where this gritty film is headed--to an unhappy ending.
So, do I recommend it?
Not particularly. Even uber-Gosling fans may wanna skip this one, as he doesn't do much other than stare, glare, and occasionally brutally murder someone. There are some shockingly-bloody moments, and some heartless murders, and enough bad language, that the squeamish will want to avoid it. Also, the silent, very "indie" feel won't endear this film to a lot of people who are just looking for some entertainment. Go ahead and take a pass.
Bottom line (I promise):
Cool idea, good actors...coulda been better--Drive is a dark, underwhelming movie.
Drive (2011)
Directed by Nicholas Winding Refn
Based on the book by James Sallis
Written by Hossein Amini
Rated R for strong bloody violence, language, and brief nudity
Length: 100 minutes
Grade: C
Starring: Ryan Gosling, Carey Mulligan, Albert Brooks, Bryan Cranston, Oscar Isaac and Ron Perlman
PREMISE: A withdrawn young man who develops feelings for his pretty neighbor has to protect her and her family from ruthless mobsters.
RATED R for strong, bloody violence, language, and brief nudity
Drive is exactly the sort of movie I hoped it wouldn't be. It's got an intriguing premise, some nifty action sequences, strong actors, and its composer, Cliff Martinez, could teach classes on how to create suspense with a busy, ominous, pulsing score, yet it ultimately feels a little too empty and bleak. Done more 'Hollywood' style, Drive would probably be longer, bloodier, funnier, certainly more talky, and it would probably have a happy ending that might feel a little unrealistic and kinda schmaltzy--but I would like to see that version. That's because I felt Nicolas Winding Refn's dark, frustratingly-silent film doesn't give you, as the viewer, enough to connect with, which is a shame, because it has the parts to be a great movie.
The only name given Ryan Gosling's withdrawn leading man is Driver, which is perfectly acceptable, since all we ever learn about him is that he spends time around cars--he works in a mechanic's garage, gets some extra cash working as a stunt driver for film productions, and occasionally moonlights as a getaway driver for local criminals. His boss and friend Shannon (Bryan Cranston), brags on him and believes that he could do anything with cars, even move up to the big-time racing circuit, provided they get a little financial assistance from a pair of local mobsters (Albert Brooks and Ron Perlman). Driver, an exceptionally-quiet individual who lives alone, knows enough about cars to see, about 20 minutes into the film, that the ratty old car belonging to his pretty neighbor Irene (Carey Mulligan) isn't going to get her home from the grocery store, so he offers to give her and her young son Benicio (Kaden Leos) a ride. Irene seems lonely, too-her husband is in prison and she works as a waitress and single mom-and Driver immediately feels a connection to her. And not only is he a nice, good-looking guy, but he takes a fancy to Benicio, which is, of course, the way to any mother's heart.
But when her husband Standard (Oscar Isaac) comes home, vowing to use his second chance for good, Driver immediately senses a disturbance. Standard may not be the typical nasty ex-con husband-there's no evidence that he mistreats Irene or Benicio-but he's also knowingly-endangering them by accruing debts he knows he can't pay. After Driver finds Standard bloodied by some of the mobsters' thugs, with Benicio huddled nearby, horrorstruck, Driver signs up to help Standard and an accomplice rob a pawn shop with the intent to score enough money to get Standard "out". When the theft attempt goes awry, Driver realizes he can't trust anyone, not his potential car-racing sponsors, not his boss, no one except Irene, who has no idea what's going on and what could happen to her and Benicio unless the right people get paid, or get taken care of.
Watching Drive, you keep waiting for something to happen. The score I mentioned is freakishly ominous and contributes to a nearly constant sense of foreboding. It occasionally dials up the volume to screechy, psychedelic levels with a variety of rock and pop songs, but usually just pulses, drums, hums in the background. It was highly-effective, keeping my stomach in a knot, and it's also necessary, as the movie can be exceptionally quiet otherwise. An early scene in which Driver eludes the police-with a pair of guys who just committed robbery in his back seat-is exceptionally well-done; without dialogue, you're able to hear the commentators of the basketball commentators on the radio, the screech of the speeding car's tires, the hiss of other traffic, the chatter on a handheld police scanner Driver has, and the chopping of a police helicopter's blades overhead. Until about the mid-way point of the film, in which Driver is proposing his offer to help Standard and his accomplices rob the pawn shop, Gosling barely has one page's worth of dialogue. Same with Mulligan--Driver and Irene's connection is shown as almost entirely nonverbal-with lots of warm smiles and knowing glances. But that silence gets to be frustrating--like I said, you're given just enough to buy Driver and Irene's connection, but you keep waiting for something to happen. Irene must be desperate for company, because why else would she keep this quiet, rather awkward man around so much?
Not that the acting is bad. Gosling brings his usual intensity, with his eyes blazing in his smoothly-intelligent face, but this feels like a walk in the park for him; he could do so much more. Mulligan, likewise, is impressive in a small part--it's quite a task making an audience care so much about a character who's given so little to work with. Albert Brooks brings an air of menace to his privileged thug, Ron Perlman makes a much more effective impression than he's been able to in a lot of his recent sci-fi sidekick outings (Conan the Barbarian, Season of the Witch), and Oscar Isaac makes you feel both sympathy and disquiet as a supposedly-reformed family man.
I was worried about watching Drive, mainly because of the promise of "Strong Brutal Bloody Violence" under the rating logo on the back. It is bloody, but there's nothing jaw-droppingly horrible happening, or maybe that's just someone who's seen a lot of movies talking. But what is jaw-dropping is how withdrawn Gosling's Driver is. It gets to be a little bit frustrating-you want to care about him, and you want Irene to care about him, but, surely, the movie has to give you SOMETHING. It doesn't just feel like the character-it feels like the writer and director deliberately withholding dialogue. It's not a bad effort, just disappointing. And for what it's worth, you do feel enough for Driver and Irene that the increasing body count late in the film doesn't crush all your hopes for the redemption of humanity, but the mood does plummet as you see where this gritty film is headed--to an unhappy ending.
So, do I recommend it?
Not particularly. Even uber-Gosling fans may wanna skip this one, as he doesn't do much other than stare, glare, and occasionally brutally murder someone. There are some shockingly-bloody moments, and some heartless murders, and enough bad language, that the squeamish will want to avoid it. Also, the silent, very "indie" feel won't endear this film to a lot of people who are just looking for some entertainment. Go ahead and take a pass.
Bottom line (I promise):
Cool idea, good actors...coulda been better--Drive is a dark, underwhelming movie.
Drive (2011)
Directed by Nicholas Winding Refn
Based on the book by James Sallis
Written by Hossein Amini
Rated R for strong bloody violence, language, and brief nudity
Length: 100 minutes
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
THE BEAVER
The Beaver (2011)
Grade: B-
Starring: Mel Gibson, Jodie Foster, Anton Yelchin, Jennifer Lawrence, and Riley Thomas Stewart
PREMISE: A depressed man on the verge of suicide finds the courage to take on life when he begins using a beaver hand puppet as an alter ego, to the chagrin of his estranged wife and moody teenage son.
RATED PG-13 for language, intense emotional content, and some sexuality
The Beaver is a movie about lonely people trying to connect with a world that, for the most part, doesn't care if they're lonely or not. There's Nora (Jennifer Lawrence), a high-school valedictorian and looker whose popularity and accomplishments can't erase the sting of her brother's death by drug overdose. There's Porter (Anton Yelchin), a young man who uses his gift for writing to win a buck (writing papers for classmates), but who so despises his somber home life that he takes out his frustration by head-butting a hole in his bedroom wall. There's Meredith (Jodie Foster), mother of Porter and of a younger son, Henry (Riley Thomas Stewart), a caring working mother who wants to be there for her kids but has long since lost the comfort and support of her husband. And, of course, there's Walter Black (Mel Gibson), that husband, who has sunk into a near coma from depression and dissatisfaction, and is on the verge of killing himself after his wife kicks him out of the house, when he comes across a beaver puppet in a trash can. Desperate for someone to talk to who won't shout at him, shun him, or recommend useless pills or books, he keeps it. And it keeps him.
While watching The Beaver, I was strongly reminded of two other films, the much-decorated Americana tragicomedy American Beauty, in which a bored, bland middle-aged husband and father (Kevin Spacey) finds new meaning in his life in his feelings of sexual attraction for a friend of his daughter's, and Lars and the Real Girl, a modern fairy tale-type dark comedy in which a childlike man (Ryan Gosling) who finds it hard to communicate with others buys a life-size sex doll off the internet and pretends it's his girlfriend, speaking to it and including it in his everyday life, using it as someone he can adore, idolize, and claim understands him. These movies are echoed in The Beaver in the way Walter is physically-present but emotionally and mentally absent in his family's life-and his whole family is clearly affected by it-and by the way the beaver provides Walter with a way to start breathing freely again.
The beaver puppet--only ever called 'the beaver'--becomes Walter's sounding board, his megaphone, his conscience, and, eventually, something more like an alter ego. With the puppet on his left hand ever thrust slightly in front of his face, with his head ducked behind it, Walter is able to speak his (or "the beaver's") mind, while being protected from the sting of others' criticisms. It's a shield, one that allows him to live again without feeling the same terrifying vulnerability. Adopting a dense Irish accent and pretending to have been put on this "therapy" by a doctor, Walter inspires his younger son by taking up his old hobby of carpentry, impresses his wife with wit and charm and liveliness, and even impresses the employees at his inherited toymaking business with his newly free, irreverent ideals. Of course, this new "side" of Walter does nothing to win the approval of his forbidding older son, who hates how much he's like the old man and is mortified when "the beaver" makes entrances into his own social life. In fact, "the beaver" begins making many entrances into people's lives, enough into Walter's to make one question Walter's actual sanity.
The Beaver wastes no time getting down to business, and it's surehanded at depicting the isolation people feel. While, of course, Walter lounges drunkenly around an apartment and tries to hang himself from a shower rod, Meredith struggles to encourage her younger son, and to get him to open up, and Porter languishes in high school hallways that nearly always seem empty--his only interactions seem to be receiving money in order to bail someone who claims to be uncreative out of a tight spot with a class. And when Nora approaches him, needing help with her graduation speech (and possibly more, a la actual companionship), he is glad to oblige.
Gibson, who in earlier films like Payback, What Women Want and the Lethal Weapon series, proved surehanded at balancing drama and comedy in the same script, is solid here, though the bulk of his acting is done with the beaver thrust in front of his face (about 95% of his dialogue is in that Irish brogue, which sounds a lot like the voice of the actor Ray Winstone; it's impressive how thoroughly un-Gibson it sounds). The actor gives it his all, though even that isn't quite enough in later scenes when it's clear the persona of "the beaver" is taking over his life-at least one late scene suffers from tonal schizophrenia, as the sight of Gibson bickering with the beaver make you want to see them as Gollum-esque and humorous, but they hint at something else. That something else, though, is never explained. Nonetheless, Gibson is a sturdy front man for this movie.
Foster, who also directed, isn't given that much to do, but she does manage to make the pain of a confused, abandoned wife palpable, especially in one scene where a meaningful anniversary gift is flatly rejected by "the beaver". Lawrence-who's going to hit box-office paydirt in a few weeks as the lead in The Hunger Games-is disappointingly-bland as Nora, though, to be fair, the character isn't all that exciting (it's hard to imagine a more colorless love interest). But Yelchin shows flashes of brilliance as Porter-who tries to bring out the best and most unique traits in others while paying little heed to the same traits in himself-and becomes the character for whom you ache the most.
I think my biggest problem with The Beaver is that I didn't quite understand why Walter was so depressed to begin with. Some people are just depressed, of course, and that could be it, but those late scenes with the beaver I mentioned hint at something else, and that something else is never fully explained. Is he schizophrenic? It sure seems like it, but it's never said, though scenes where Walter acts in ways he undoubtedly wouldn't, while using the puppet as his guide, seem to promote the idea that more of his mind is engaged in the beaver persona than originally suggested. Also, the film's theme, of really loving one another and being there for one another, is kind of shoe-horned in with little support from the plot before the credits roll.
And about those other two films I mentioned: The Beaver is not as gritty and sad as American Beauty-neither is it as heartfelt, and it also lacks the earlier film's edge of self-aware humor. And it doesn't contain the feel-good whimsy of Lars and the Real Girl.
So, do I recommend it?
I'm on the fence. Gibson may be different than you've ever seen him, Foster and Yelchin are good, and the plots moves quickly, but it's offbeat and sobering enough that I wouldn't call it a must-see.
Bottom line:
Intriguing but dark film. Adventurous moviegoers may be rewarded, but The Beaver is a strange journey that doesn't quite have an ending.
The Beaver (2011)
Directed by Jodie Foster
Written by Kyle Killen
Rated PG-13 for language, sexuality, and intense emotional content
Length: 91 minutes
Grade: B-
Starring: Mel Gibson, Jodie Foster, Anton Yelchin, Jennifer Lawrence, and Riley Thomas Stewart
PREMISE: A depressed man on the verge of suicide finds the courage to take on life when he begins using a beaver hand puppet as an alter ego, to the chagrin of his estranged wife and moody teenage son.
RATED PG-13 for language, intense emotional content, and some sexuality
The Beaver is a movie about lonely people trying to connect with a world that, for the most part, doesn't care if they're lonely or not. There's Nora (Jennifer Lawrence), a high-school valedictorian and looker whose popularity and accomplishments can't erase the sting of her brother's death by drug overdose. There's Porter (Anton Yelchin), a young man who uses his gift for writing to win a buck (writing papers for classmates), but who so despises his somber home life that he takes out his frustration by head-butting a hole in his bedroom wall. There's Meredith (Jodie Foster), mother of Porter and of a younger son, Henry (Riley Thomas Stewart), a caring working mother who wants to be there for her kids but has long since lost the comfort and support of her husband. And, of course, there's Walter Black (Mel Gibson), that husband, who has sunk into a near coma from depression and dissatisfaction, and is on the verge of killing himself after his wife kicks him out of the house, when he comes across a beaver puppet in a trash can. Desperate for someone to talk to who won't shout at him, shun him, or recommend useless pills or books, he keeps it. And it keeps him.
While watching The Beaver, I was strongly reminded of two other films, the much-decorated Americana tragicomedy American Beauty, in which a bored, bland middle-aged husband and father (Kevin Spacey) finds new meaning in his life in his feelings of sexual attraction for a friend of his daughter's, and Lars and the Real Girl, a modern fairy tale-type dark comedy in which a childlike man (Ryan Gosling) who finds it hard to communicate with others buys a life-size sex doll off the internet and pretends it's his girlfriend, speaking to it and including it in his everyday life, using it as someone he can adore, idolize, and claim understands him. These movies are echoed in The Beaver in the way Walter is physically-present but emotionally and mentally absent in his family's life-and his whole family is clearly affected by it-and by the way the beaver provides Walter with a way to start breathing freely again.
The beaver puppet--only ever called 'the beaver'--becomes Walter's sounding board, his megaphone, his conscience, and, eventually, something more like an alter ego. With the puppet on his left hand ever thrust slightly in front of his face, with his head ducked behind it, Walter is able to speak his (or "the beaver's") mind, while being protected from the sting of others' criticisms. It's a shield, one that allows him to live again without feeling the same terrifying vulnerability. Adopting a dense Irish accent and pretending to have been put on this "therapy" by a doctor, Walter inspires his younger son by taking up his old hobby of carpentry, impresses his wife with wit and charm and liveliness, and even impresses the employees at his inherited toymaking business with his newly free, irreverent ideals. Of course, this new "side" of Walter does nothing to win the approval of his forbidding older son, who hates how much he's like the old man and is mortified when "the beaver" makes entrances into his own social life. In fact, "the beaver" begins making many entrances into people's lives, enough into Walter's to make one question Walter's actual sanity.
The Beaver wastes no time getting down to business, and it's surehanded at depicting the isolation people feel. While, of course, Walter lounges drunkenly around an apartment and tries to hang himself from a shower rod, Meredith struggles to encourage her younger son, and to get him to open up, and Porter languishes in high school hallways that nearly always seem empty--his only interactions seem to be receiving money in order to bail someone who claims to be uncreative out of a tight spot with a class. And when Nora approaches him, needing help with her graduation speech (and possibly more, a la actual companionship), he is glad to oblige.
Gibson, who in earlier films like Payback, What Women Want and the Lethal Weapon series, proved surehanded at balancing drama and comedy in the same script, is solid here, though the bulk of his acting is done with the beaver thrust in front of his face (about 95% of his dialogue is in that Irish brogue, which sounds a lot like the voice of the actor Ray Winstone; it's impressive how thoroughly un-Gibson it sounds). The actor gives it his all, though even that isn't quite enough in later scenes when it's clear the persona of "the beaver" is taking over his life-at least one late scene suffers from tonal schizophrenia, as the sight of Gibson bickering with the beaver make you want to see them as Gollum-esque and humorous, but they hint at something else. That something else, though, is never explained. Nonetheless, Gibson is a sturdy front man for this movie.
Foster, who also directed, isn't given that much to do, but she does manage to make the pain of a confused, abandoned wife palpable, especially in one scene where a meaningful anniversary gift is flatly rejected by "the beaver". Lawrence-who's going to hit box-office paydirt in a few weeks as the lead in The Hunger Games-is disappointingly-bland as Nora, though, to be fair, the character isn't all that exciting (it's hard to imagine a more colorless love interest). But Yelchin shows flashes of brilliance as Porter-who tries to bring out the best and most unique traits in others while paying little heed to the same traits in himself-and becomes the character for whom you ache the most.
I think my biggest problem with The Beaver is that I didn't quite understand why Walter was so depressed to begin with. Some people are just depressed, of course, and that could be it, but those late scenes with the beaver I mentioned hint at something else, and that something else is never fully explained. Is he schizophrenic? It sure seems like it, but it's never said, though scenes where Walter acts in ways he undoubtedly wouldn't, while using the puppet as his guide, seem to promote the idea that more of his mind is engaged in the beaver persona than originally suggested. Also, the film's theme, of really loving one another and being there for one another, is kind of shoe-horned in with little support from the plot before the credits roll.
And about those other two films I mentioned: The Beaver is not as gritty and sad as American Beauty-neither is it as heartfelt, and it also lacks the earlier film's edge of self-aware humor. And it doesn't contain the feel-good whimsy of Lars and the Real Girl.
So, do I recommend it?
I'm on the fence. Gibson may be different than you've ever seen him, Foster and Yelchin are good, and the plots moves quickly, but it's offbeat and sobering enough that I wouldn't call it a must-see.
Bottom line:
Intriguing but dark film. Adventurous moviegoers may be rewarded, but The Beaver is a strange journey that doesn't quite have an ending.
The Beaver (2011)
Directed by Jodie Foster
Written by Kyle Killen
Rated PG-13 for language, sexuality, and intense emotional content
Length: 91 minutes
Sunday, February 19, 2012
BRIDESMAIDS
Bridesmaids (2011)
Grade: D
Starring: Kristen Wiig, Maya Rudolph, Chris O'Dowd, Rose Byrne, Melissa McCarthy, Wendi McLendon-Covey, Ellie Kemper, and Jon Hamm
PREMISE: A middle-aged woman's social and romantic lives go into tailspins when her best friend gets engaged and names her the Maid of Honor.
RATED R for strong language (including graphic sexual references), and graphic sexual content
GAH!!! I so badly wanted to like Bridesmaids. It's a coarse, sharp-edged comedy driven by an animated, fearless star (Kristen Wiig, who also co-wrote), and it has more tricks up its sleeve than about 90 percent of raunchy comedies these days. It's also-on many an occasion-laugh-out-loud funny. But, it's also relentless, and it follows around a character who makes all the worst decisions-and becomes nails-on-a-chalkboard annoying-stumbling from funny and original to borderline-unwatchable as it gets wilder and wilder.
Annie (Wiig) would never say her life is perfect. Her dream-opening and running a bakery-fell through because she didn't have enough money. She's single, and her only "romantic" escapades are bedroom romps with a ridiculously-horny douche bag (Jon Hamm) who couldn't make it plainer that all she is to him is an instrument of pleasure. She shares an apartment with a pair of lazy British shlubs (Rebel Wilson and Matt Lucas), one of whom never pays any rent, yet she's too proud to accept the invitations of her single mother to move in with her. Her only real happiness in life comes from her lifelong friend Jillian (Maya Rudolph), an earthy, gentle soul who is over the moon when her fiancee's sudden distance turns out to be a byproduct of the diamond ring burning a hole in his pocket. No sooner does Annie graciously accept Jillian's request to be her Maid of Honor than her life becomes increasingly unpredictable. That's because Jillian's wedding is already all but directly-financed by her fiancee's boss's gab-and-glam-loving wife Helen (Rose Byrne), and her fellow bridesmaids consist of a sweet but super-naive newlywed (Ellie Kemper), a bored housewife who lives to fulfill her starved sexual fantasies (Wendi McLendon-Covey), and the groom's sister, a dumpy, foulmouthed eccentric (Melissa McCarthy, in the female incarnation of the Zac Galifianakis role from The Hangover).
The fur starts flying immediately, when Annie is upstaged at the engagement party by the sickly-sweet Helen, who has only known Jillian for a few months, but is a take-charge, alpha sort with both money and connections. Following an extremely uncomfortable scene-where Annie and Helen give dueling speeches/compliments to the bride-to-be, each trying to one-up the other, a furious Annie is pulled over by a police officer (Chris O'Dowd) who has fond memories of the cakes she used to serve--fond enough that they get her out of a ticket for having bad tail lights. The cop is genuinely nice-as a few subsequent run-ins prove-but Annie's life is soon consumed by the battle she's losing to Helen--the battle to win Jillian's approval by planning the perfect wedding. A recommendation to a little Brazillian diner on a bridesmaids outing turns out to be a disaster, her idea to have the wedding shower at Jillian's parents' lake house is offed by Helen's contrary offer of a trip to Vegas, and Annie's attempts to get Jillian to notice the wedding's rapidly-inflating budget ($900 dollar bridesmaid dresses; a custom bride's dress ordered straight from a designer in Paris) fall on deaf ears, as her friend becomes increasingly starry-eyed at the prospect of a storybook wedding. Naturally, Annie's rising tension sends her life into a tailspin, where her every move seems to be the wrong one.
Yes, it's a comedy--an often funny one. McCarthy is a scream as the unglamorous, edgy bridesmaid who suggests a Fight Club theme for a bachelorette party ("Jillian comes in-right?-and we all beat the s*** out of her!"), and offers to show an alarmed fellow plane passenger that iPods can, indeed, be hidden in one's nether regions. She's got an Oscar nomination for this performance, and deserves it, despite a few late, unnecessary touches. If you remember anything from Bridesmaids, it'll be her. Bridesmaids also deserves praise for its fearlessness, its utter daring, personified largely by the endlessly-energetic Wiig, but Annie's tailspin is just too much. While it's easy to imagine that the impending marriage of a close friend could rock a person's world, Annie is revealed to not only be stressed, but also shown to be, simply, an appallingly self-centered, obnoxious individual.
Wiig works hard, and she's incredibly expressive, but she does become irritatingly shrill as the plot unfolds. You want to smack her repeatedly by the 75-minute mark, and the film in its totality is 125 minutes long. You know you're meant to hate Byrne as soon as she comes onscreen, gussied up and smiling, but with a slightly demonic gleam in her eye, and the normally-reserved actress plays her kind but competitive princess well. However an attempt to redeem her character late falls flat due to the mania surrounding it. O'Dowd deserves serious credit for allowing one to exale whenever he's featured in a scene-it means nothing ridiculous is about to happen-but in his last scene, he succumbs to a glob of uncharacteristic schmaltz. But McLendon-Covey and Hamm come off like bad curdled milk with a pair of unappealing, oversexed characters that barely seem like real people. And Rudolph, as the bride-to-be, is more a plot device than a person.
Maybe you can tell my problem with Bridesmaids. I really wanted to like it, and I laughed a lot, but its unrelenting determination to go as over-the-top as it can (yes, Helen proves pretty intense when it comes to planning the wedding, but having the bride's favorite band appear, after the vows, to perform her favorite song? Really? How about giving out live puppies as bachelorette party favors? Perhaps a little too much?) bogged me down. Soon, Wiig's performance is as subtle and likeable as being hit over the head with a frying pan, and Hamm's last scene is so over-the-top sexist that it left me with a bad taste in my mouth.
So, do I recommend it?
If coarseness doesn't bother you, and you're with your girlfriends (or friends who just don't care) then have at it. May you laugh shrilly. I know a lot of people love this sort of movie. But, the film is loud, crude, and, at times, mean-spirited. It also promotes a blatant selfishness that's impossible to like-late in the film, Annie goes on a tantrum that supposed to be understandable and funny but drags on into the outright maniacal. The dialogue is extremely profane, with many references to private parts (male and female), and the movie features a few sex scenes, the longest and most uncomfortably-intimate of which is the very first scene.
Bottom line (I promise):
Bridesmaids is funny but depressingly juvenile. It's not for kids. It's not for the faint of heart. It's not for those who like to think of movie-making as an art form. Groups of girlfriends may love it, and it should give nearly every viewer a chuckle or two, but its shrieky and overdramatic happenings are headache-inducing.
Bridesmaids (2011)
Directed by Paul Feig
Written by Kristen Wiig and Annie Mumolo
Rated R for strong language (including graphic sexual references) and scenes of sexuality
Length: 125 minutes
Grade: D
Starring: Kristen Wiig, Maya Rudolph, Chris O'Dowd, Rose Byrne, Melissa McCarthy, Wendi McLendon-Covey, Ellie Kemper, and Jon Hamm
PREMISE: A middle-aged woman's social and romantic lives go into tailspins when her best friend gets engaged and names her the Maid of Honor.
RATED R for strong language (including graphic sexual references), and graphic sexual content
GAH!!! I so badly wanted to like Bridesmaids. It's a coarse, sharp-edged comedy driven by an animated, fearless star (Kristen Wiig, who also co-wrote), and it has more tricks up its sleeve than about 90 percent of raunchy comedies these days. It's also-on many an occasion-laugh-out-loud funny. But, it's also relentless, and it follows around a character who makes all the worst decisions-and becomes nails-on-a-chalkboard annoying-stumbling from funny and original to borderline-unwatchable as it gets wilder and wilder.
Annie (Wiig) would never say her life is perfect. Her dream-opening and running a bakery-fell through because she didn't have enough money. She's single, and her only "romantic" escapades are bedroom romps with a ridiculously-horny douche bag (Jon Hamm) who couldn't make it plainer that all she is to him is an instrument of pleasure. She shares an apartment with a pair of lazy British shlubs (Rebel Wilson and Matt Lucas), one of whom never pays any rent, yet she's too proud to accept the invitations of her single mother to move in with her. Her only real happiness in life comes from her lifelong friend Jillian (Maya Rudolph), an earthy, gentle soul who is over the moon when her fiancee's sudden distance turns out to be a byproduct of the diamond ring burning a hole in his pocket. No sooner does Annie graciously accept Jillian's request to be her Maid of Honor than her life becomes increasingly unpredictable. That's because Jillian's wedding is already all but directly-financed by her fiancee's boss's gab-and-glam-loving wife Helen (Rose Byrne), and her fellow bridesmaids consist of a sweet but super-naive newlywed (Ellie Kemper), a bored housewife who lives to fulfill her starved sexual fantasies (Wendi McLendon-Covey), and the groom's sister, a dumpy, foulmouthed eccentric (Melissa McCarthy, in the female incarnation of the Zac Galifianakis role from The Hangover).
The fur starts flying immediately, when Annie is upstaged at the engagement party by the sickly-sweet Helen, who has only known Jillian for a few months, but is a take-charge, alpha sort with both money and connections. Following an extremely uncomfortable scene-where Annie and Helen give dueling speeches/compliments to the bride-to-be, each trying to one-up the other, a furious Annie is pulled over by a police officer (Chris O'Dowd) who has fond memories of the cakes she used to serve--fond enough that they get her out of a ticket for having bad tail lights. The cop is genuinely nice-as a few subsequent run-ins prove-but Annie's life is soon consumed by the battle she's losing to Helen--the battle to win Jillian's approval by planning the perfect wedding. A recommendation to a little Brazillian diner on a bridesmaids outing turns out to be a disaster, her idea to have the wedding shower at Jillian's parents' lake house is offed by Helen's contrary offer of a trip to Vegas, and Annie's attempts to get Jillian to notice the wedding's rapidly-inflating budget ($900 dollar bridesmaid dresses; a custom bride's dress ordered straight from a designer in Paris) fall on deaf ears, as her friend becomes increasingly starry-eyed at the prospect of a storybook wedding. Naturally, Annie's rising tension sends her life into a tailspin, where her every move seems to be the wrong one.
Yes, it's a comedy--an often funny one. McCarthy is a scream as the unglamorous, edgy bridesmaid who suggests a Fight Club theme for a bachelorette party ("Jillian comes in-right?-and we all beat the s*** out of her!"), and offers to show an alarmed fellow plane passenger that iPods can, indeed, be hidden in one's nether regions. She's got an Oscar nomination for this performance, and deserves it, despite a few late, unnecessary touches. If you remember anything from Bridesmaids, it'll be her. Bridesmaids also deserves praise for its fearlessness, its utter daring, personified largely by the endlessly-energetic Wiig, but Annie's tailspin is just too much. While it's easy to imagine that the impending marriage of a close friend could rock a person's world, Annie is revealed to not only be stressed, but also shown to be, simply, an appallingly self-centered, obnoxious individual.
Wiig works hard, and she's incredibly expressive, but she does become irritatingly shrill as the plot unfolds. You want to smack her repeatedly by the 75-minute mark, and the film in its totality is 125 minutes long. You know you're meant to hate Byrne as soon as she comes onscreen, gussied up and smiling, but with a slightly demonic gleam in her eye, and the normally-reserved actress plays her kind but competitive princess well. However an attempt to redeem her character late falls flat due to the mania surrounding it. O'Dowd deserves serious credit for allowing one to exale whenever he's featured in a scene-it means nothing ridiculous is about to happen-but in his last scene, he succumbs to a glob of uncharacteristic schmaltz. But McLendon-Covey and Hamm come off like bad curdled milk with a pair of unappealing, oversexed characters that barely seem like real people. And Rudolph, as the bride-to-be, is more a plot device than a person.
Maybe you can tell my problem with Bridesmaids. I really wanted to like it, and I laughed a lot, but its unrelenting determination to go as over-the-top as it can (yes, Helen proves pretty intense when it comes to planning the wedding, but having the bride's favorite band appear, after the vows, to perform her favorite song? Really? How about giving out live puppies as bachelorette party favors? Perhaps a little too much?) bogged me down. Soon, Wiig's performance is as subtle and likeable as being hit over the head with a frying pan, and Hamm's last scene is so over-the-top sexist that it left me with a bad taste in my mouth.
So, do I recommend it?
If coarseness doesn't bother you, and you're with your girlfriends (or friends who just don't care) then have at it. May you laugh shrilly. I know a lot of people love this sort of movie. But, the film is loud, crude, and, at times, mean-spirited. It also promotes a blatant selfishness that's impossible to like-late in the film, Annie goes on a tantrum that supposed to be understandable and funny but drags on into the outright maniacal. The dialogue is extremely profane, with many references to private parts (male and female), and the movie features a few sex scenes, the longest and most uncomfortably-intimate of which is the very first scene.
Bottom line (I promise):
Bridesmaids is funny but depressingly juvenile. It's not for kids. It's not for the faint of heart. It's not for those who like to think of movie-making as an art form. Groups of girlfriends may love it, and it should give nearly every viewer a chuckle or two, but its shrieky and overdramatic happenings are headache-inducing.
Bridesmaids (2011)
Directed by Paul Feig
Written by Kristen Wiig and Annie Mumolo
Rated R for strong language (including graphic sexual references) and scenes of sexuality
Length: 125 minutes
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
OUR IDIOT BROTHER
Our Idiot Brother (2011)
Grade: B+
Starring: Paul Rudd, Elizabeth Banks, Emily Mortimer, Zooey Deschanel, Adam Scott, Rashida Jones, Steve Coogan, Kathryn Hahn, Shirley Knight and T.J. Miller
PREMISE: A sweet-natured but naive man's family regrets showing loyalty to him when he wreaks havoc on their lives with his unhesitating honesty.
RATED R for strong language (including graphic sexual references), scenes of sexuality and nudity, and some drug content
--Let’s face it, the world would be a happier place if more people were like Ned Rochlin (Paul Rudd). Is he a part-time stoner? Yes. Can he accurately be described as an “irresponsible man-child”, as one character late in the hilariously-likable comedy Our Idiot Brother labels him? Yes. Is he a great influence for children? Not particularly. Is he clueless enough to get a wealthy heiress (Janet Montgomery) drunk, hear her spill all her secrets and casually repeat them to an ambitious journalist (Elizabeth Banks), yet honest enough to get an attack of conscience when he realizes the material is about to be published? Yes. And is he airheaded enough to walk in front of the camera his brother-in-law (Steve Coogan) is using to film a documentary in a ballet studio? Yes. But is he the sort of person you’d like to be friends with (excluding the drug use)? Yes.
As he tells that heiress in a moment of drunken sensitivity, he believes that dishing out enough love, kindness, and honesty might make people start giving those things back, paying it forward, making the world a better place. And so he does, for better or for worse.
Our Idiot Brother is a delightful film, a naughty but bighearted adult comedy that was exactly the uplifting tonic I needed after sitting through the sobering spectacles of 50/50 and Moneyball in the past two days. At its center is Ned, a thirtysomething slacker who’s never had a real job, is willing to pay $500 a month to live in his hippie ex-girlfriend’s goat barn, and whose best friend is his golden retriever, Willie Nelson (seriously). Part Forrest Gump, part Buddy the Elf, Ned has an idealistic view of the world, full of innocence and sympathy, which is why he doesn’t think twice about giving a uniformed police officer under-the-table weed from his produce stand early in the film when the officer claims he’s had a bad week. Ned understands how it is. Then he gets busted.
Eight months later, he’s out of jail, finds his girlfriend (Kathryn Hahn) living with another guy and refusing to return his dog to him, so he runs back to that built-in support group every one of us has: family. But that family doesn’t particularly need him. His mother (Shirley Knight) is gentle and understanding, but Ned’s three sisters might be just fine without him. Miranda (Banks) is a feisty go-getter moving up the Vanity Fair ladder. Natalie (Zooey Deschanel) is a gay, part-time adult comedian who spends her time getting nude for a sensitive artist (Hugh Dancy, in a small part) and exchanging sweet nothings with her lawyer girlfriend (Rashida Jones). And Liz (Emily Mortimer) is raising a seven-year-old son and a five-month old and claims to be happy, but she’s really suffering through a loveless marriage with Coogan’s stuffy, high-class filmmaker, Dylan.
Well, the sisters do try to reach out to him. Ned begins living in Liz’s house, sharing bunkbeds with River, her seven-year-old, while “assisting” her husband with his film shoot during the day. And Miranda allows him a job as her chauffer/assistant, with no strings attached, of course. But things start falling apart fast. Being such a child, Ned bonds immediately with River, playing games and telling jokes, showing him old kung fu movies and teaching him the moves, but the parents won’t have it, considering Dylan has been raising the child with enrollment in prestigious private schools in mind, thereby forcing him toward quieter, more artistic habits. Ned also butchers Miranda’s attempt at a juicy column on the heiress by being such a good listener, by being so interesting--so delighted is the heiress to have a nice guy like him around, she barely hears Miranda’s interview questions. Ned even gets dehydrated and passes out in the middle of an aromatheraphy session he attends with Natalie and her artist friend, Christian.
Like all movies based on a fish-out-of-water scenario, Our Idiot Brother can make you squirm. Ned is about as nice a guy as you’ll find, just hopelessly naïve. He totally buys it when Dylan tells him he personally gets naked for one-on-one interviews with the ballerina star of his film (to make her feel more comfortable) after Ned walks in to find them in a compromising position. He believes a pregnant Natalie when she tells him she told her girlfriend about the attached infidelity, and feels a desire to congratulate the perfectly-happy girlfriend on taking the news so well. And he feels horrible when he finds himself too weirded-out to finish up a threesome with an interested couple he meets a party at Natalie’s place. And he just can’t keep his mouth shut, inadvertently spilling the beans about what the bossy Miranda and her starry-eyed, nerdy neighbor (Adam Scott) really think of each other, not to mention matter-of-factly mentioning Dylan’s interview “practice”. Soon enough, of course, that family is ready to show Ned the door.
The actors all make effective contributions. Rudd strikes just the right balance between irresponsible goofball and likable idealist, allowing you to accept him without making fun of him. He does register as a person-if an extremely gullible one-rather than a plot device (who, out there, can't relate to someone who wants to repeatedly stick their foot in their mouth when seemingly-harmless comments come back to bite them?), and his cluelessness really put you on edge in a number of no-don't-do-it suspense scenes.
Banks is dynamite, looking great and devouring the scenery with gusto as the tightly-wound, sharp-tongued Miranda. You can tell her slacker brother puts a cramp in her style, but she's willing to put up with him so long as he's useful to her. Mortimer excels at the Emily Mortimer role, a meek but friendly gal whose liveliness has been buried by her husband’s perceived superiority, yet who still has it in her to think for herself. Deschanel, the sister with the least screen time, nails the understated humor of an easygoing gal who's be-who-you-are, do-what-you-want style is just a few notches above Ned's on the leniency scale; she also has a super-expressive face that's key for a few big argument scenes. Coogan is easy to hate as the sleazy jerk husband, Jones brings a few big laughs as the more macho half of the lesbian couple, and Kathryn Hahn and T. J. Miller provide easy laughs as Ned’s ex, and her new boyfriend, a dry, unsophisticated bro.
The movie is well-paced but impressively-complex for a comedy—I just wrote three paragraphs of plot and could easily write a good two more without giving away everything. Really, it felt longer than ninety minutes, but nearly every moment seems to belong, includes Ned’s repeated visits to his parole officer (Sterling K. Brown)--Ned thinks parole visits are kind of like “free therapy”—and it leaves you smiling with a hopeful little climax. It also strikes just the right tone. Whereas 50/50 was a comedy that drowned its middle section in depressingly gritty material supplemented by mere, occasional touches of humor, Brother keeps the laughs and humorous edginess coming, while effectively hitting all its dramatic plot points. Is it the most original movie ever? Of course not, but it was nice to see something like this done as a comedy, when it’s all-too-easy to picture this family-black-sheep-comes-home scenario as a heavy drama.
So, do I recommend it?
Ah, that’s a tough one! I just wrote a review lavishing affection on it, but it’s still hard to unhesitatingly recommend a movie with so much adult material. If you and your adult family can handle mature material (lots of profanity, a homosexual relationship, and a few instances of nudity), you’ll probably laugh your heads off and end up smiling and hugging each other. If not, stay far away from Our Idiot Brother.
Bottom line (I promise):
A great cast pulls off a cliché but well-executed premise with aplomb in this raunchy feel-good comedy that isn't for everyone but should satisfy those who watch it.
Our Idiot Brother (2011)
Directed by Jesse Peretz
Written by Jesse Peretz, Evgenia Peretz, and David Schisgall
Rated R for strong language (including graphic sexual references), scenes of sexuality and nudity, and some drug content
Length: 90 minutes
Grade: B+
Starring: Paul Rudd, Elizabeth Banks, Emily Mortimer, Zooey Deschanel, Adam Scott, Rashida Jones, Steve Coogan, Kathryn Hahn, Shirley Knight and T.J. Miller
PREMISE: A sweet-natured but naive man's family regrets showing loyalty to him when he wreaks havoc on their lives with his unhesitating honesty.
RATED R for strong language (including graphic sexual references), scenes of sexuality and nudity, and some drug content
--Let’s face it, the world would be a happier place if more people were like Ned Rochlin (Paul Rudd). Is he a part-time stoner? Yes. Can he accurately be described as an “irresponsible man-child”, as one character late in the hilariously-likable comedy Our Idiot Brother labels him? Yes. Is he a great influence for children? Not particularly. Is he clueless enough to get a wealthy heiress (Janet Montgomery) drunk, hear her spill all her secrets and casually repeat them to an ambitious journalist (Elizabeth Banks), yet honest enough to get an attack of conscience when he realizes the material is about to be published? Yes. And is he airheaded enough to walk in front of the camera his brother-in-law (Steve Coogan) is using to film a documentary in a ballet studio? Yes. But is he the sort of person you’d like to be friends with (excluding the drug use)? Yes.
As he tells that heiress in a moment of drunken sensitivity, he believes that dishing out enough love, kindness, and honesty might make people start giving those things back, paying it forward, making the world a better place. And so he does, for better or for worse.
Our Idiot Brother is a delightful film, a naughty but bighearted adult comedy that was exactly the uplifting tonic I needed after sitting through the sobering spectacles of 50/50 and Moneyball in the past two days. At its center is Ned, a thirtysomething slacker who’s never had a real job, is willing to pay $500 a month to live in his hippie ex-girlfriend’s goat barn, and whose best friend is his golden retriever, Willie Nelson (seriously). Part Forrest Gump, part Buddy the Elf, Ned has an idealistic view of the world, full of innocence and sympathy, which is why he doesn’t think twice about giving a uniformed police officer under-the-table weed from his produce stand early in the film when the officer claims he’s had a bad week. Ned understands how it is. Then he gets busted.
Eight months later, he’s out of jail, finds his girlfriend (Kathryn Hahn) living with another guy and refusing to return his dog to him, so he runs back to that built-in support group every one of us has: family. But that family doesn’t particularly need him. His mother (Shirley Knight) is gentle and understanding, but Ned’s three sisters might be just fine without him. Miranda (Banks) is a feisty go-getter moving up the Vanity Fair ladder. Natalie (Zooey Deschanel) is a gay, part-time adult comedian who spends her time getting nude for a sensitive artist (Hugh Dancy, in a small part) and exchanging sweet nothings with her lawyer girlfriend (Rashida Jones). And Liz (Emily Mortimer) is raising a seven-year-old son and a five-month old and claims to be happy, but she’s really suffering through a loveless marriage with Coogan’s stuffy, high-class filmmaker, Dylan.
Well, the sisters do try to reach out to him. Ned begins living in Liz’s house, sharing bunkbeds with River, her seven-year-old, while “assisting” her husband with his film shoot during the day. And Miranda allows him a job as her chauffer/assistant, with no strings attached, of course. But things start falling apart fast. Being such a child, Ned bonds immediately with River, playing games and telling jokes, showing him old kung fu movies and teaching him the moves, but the parents won’t have it, considering Dylan has been raising the child with enrollment in prestigious private schools in mind, thereby forcing him toward quieter, more artistic habits. Ned also butchers Miranda’s attempt at a juicy column on the heiress by being such a good listener, by being so interesting--so delighted is the heiress to have a nice guy like him around, she barely hears Miranda’s interview questions. Ned even gets dehydrated and passes out in the middle of an aromatheraphy session he attends with Natalie and her artist friend, Christian.
Like all movies based on a fish-out-of-water scenario, Our Idiot Brother can make you squirm. Ned is about as nice a guy as you’ll find, just hopelessly naïve. He totally buys it when Dylan tells him he personally gets naked for one-on-one interviews with the ballerina star of his film (to make her feel more comfortable) after Ned walks in to find them in a compromising position. He believes a pregnant Natalie when she tells him she told her girlfriend about the attached infidelity, and feels a desire to congratulate the perfectly-happy girlfriend on taking the news so well. And he feels horrible when he finds himself too weirded-out to finish up a threesome with an interested couple he meets a party at Natalie’s place. And he just can’t keep his mouth shut, inadvertently spilling the beans about what the bossy Miranda and her starry-eyed, nerdy neighbor (Adam Scott) really think of each other, not to mention matter-of-factly mentioning Dylan’s interview “practice”. Soon enough, of course, that family is ready to show Ned the door.
The actors all make effective contributions. Rudd strikes just the right balance between irresponsible goofball and likable idealist, allowing you to accept him without making fun of him. He does register as a person-if an extremely gullible one-rather than a plot device (who, out there, can't relate to someone who wants to repeatedly stick their foot in their mouth when seemingly-harmless comments come back to bite them?), and his cluelessness really put you on edge in a number of no-don't-do-it suspense scenes.
Banks is dynamite, looking great and devouring the scenery with gusto as the tightly-wound, sharp-tongued Miranda. You can tell her slacker brother puts a cramp in her style, but she's willing to put up with him so long as he's useful to her. Mortimer excels at the Emily Mortimer role, a meek but friendly gal whose liveliness has been buried by her husband’s perceived superiority, yet who still has it in her to think for herself. Deschanel, the sister with the least screen time, nails the understated humor of an easygoing gal who's be-who-you-are, do-what-you-want style is just a few notches above Ned's on the leniency scale; she also has a super-expressive face that's key for a few big argument scenes. Coogan is easy to hate as the sleazy jerk husband, Jones brings a few big laughs as the more macho half of the lesbian couple, and Kathryn Hahn and T. J. Miller provide easy laughs as Ned’s ex, and her new boyfriend, a dry, unsophisticated bro.
The movie is well-paced but impressively-complex for a comedy—I just wrote three paragraphs of plot and could easily write a good two more without giving away everything. Really, it felt longer than ninety minutes, but nearly every moment seems to belong, includes Ned’s repeated visits to his parole officer (Sterling K. Brown)--Ned thinks parole visits are kind of like “free therapy”—and it leaves you smiling with a hopeful little climax. It also strikes just the right tone. Whereas 50/50 was a comedy that drowned its middle section in depressingly gritty material supplemented by mere, occasional touches of humor, Brother keeps the laughs and humorous edginess coming, while effectively hitting all its dramatic plot points. Is it the most original movie ever? Of course not, but it was nice to see something like this done as a comedy, when it’s all-too-easy to picture this family-black-sheep-comes-home scenario as a heavy drama.
So, do I recommend it?
Ah, that’s a tough one! I just wrote a review lavishing affection on it, but it’s still hard to unhesitatingly recommend a movie with so much adult material. If you and your adult family can handle mature material (lots of profanity, a homosexual relationship, and a few instances of nudity), you’ll probably laugh your heads off and end up smiling and hugging each other. If not, stay far away from Our Idiot Brother.
Bottom line (I promise):
A great cast pulls off a cliché but well-executed premise with aplomb in this raunchy feel-good comedy that isn't for everyone but should satisfy those who watch it.
Our Idiot Brother (2011)
Directed by Jesse Peretz
Written by Jesse Peretz, Evgenia Peretz, and David Schisgall
Rated R for strong language (including graphic sexual references), scenes of sexuality and nudity, and some drug content
Length: 90 minutes
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
MONEYBALL
Moneyball (2011)
Grade: C
Starring: Brad Pitt, Jonah Hill, Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Chris Pratt, Ken Medlock, Stephen Bishop, and Kerris Dorsey
PREMISE: Oakland Athletics General Manager Billy Beane seeks to rebuild a struggling team by unconventional methods in order to save the team money.
RATED PG-13 for language
Moneyball features what might be Brad Pitt's best performance. If not his sheer greatest, then, certainly,his most commanding. Playing a fast-talking, fearless man of action, Pitt storms through Moneyball on a mission, doing so with such aplomb that you almost forget that guy with the lined face and the Biebover locks is that Brad Pitt, Ocean's 11's Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie's Brad Pitt. That guy. Pitt's performance (which has earned him an Oscar nomination and has generated whispers of potentially bringing him his first win) is the sole reason to watch Moneyball. I've been impressed by his intensity, his screen presence, and his stature in other films (Legends of the Fall, Se7en, Babel), but this is the diamond in the rough of Pitt's career.
--Pitt, who has to be one of the most recognizable people on earth, even with the aforementioned boyish locks, plays Billy Beane, the still-serving General Manager of Major League Baseball's Oakland Athletics. In 2001, the modestly-talented, small-market A's romped through the season, winning 102 games and putting the mighty New York Yankees to the test in the playoffs, though they eventually lost the deciding game of that series. However, as is so often the fate of baseball teams these days that find unexpected success, they were immediately forced to sell their biggest pieces (slugging first baseman Jason Giambi, dynamic outfielder Johnny Damon, strong-armed closer Jason Isringhausen), knowing those men, after the previous season's sucesses, would demand more money, much more than Beane and the A's ownership could afford. Knowing they would suffer these losses, and likely get nothing close in return, Beane and his group of scouts (led by Ken Medlock's stuffy, old-fashioned Grady Fuson) began to look at minor leaguers, college players, and incoming international talents to try and put together a team that could A) appeal to a fan base recovering from losing their three biggest stars, and B) win ballgames.
--However, Beane, once a superstar high school baseball player who passed up a scholarship to Stanford to play in the big leagues, only to have his skills mysteriously erode in an unremarkable career, knows that just guessing-and assuming someone will "develop"-isn't enough. A trip to Cleveland to attempt to get a bargain price for a proven relief pitcher brings him across the path of Peter Brand (a surprisingly meek Jonah Hill), a 25-year-old numbers whiz with an Economics degree from Yale, who nonetheless commands the attention of the Cleveland Indians' entire coaching staff. Impressed with the kid's influence, Beane buys his contract, takes him to Oakland, and finds out what Peter knows, that a number of then-new sabermetrics (percentages, equations, ratios, etc...) could determine a player's potential, as well as separate perceived potential from actual ability. For instance, why not try a hard-hitting catcher (Chris Pratt's Scott Hatteberg) with a bad arm at first base, where his weak arm won't matter? Or why not add proven playoff hero David Justice (Stephen Bishop), even though he's no longer pounding home runs like he once did, and everyone says he's washed up, because he can at least get on base? Billy and Peter's theories are challenged, of course, by everyone from the scouting team to the players themselves to the team's opinionated, old-fashioned manager Art Howe (Phillip Seymour Hoffman), but when the team turns around after a slow start to the 2002 season, everyone starts paying attention. Just how far can this newfangled, numbers-crunching style of evaluating ballplayers-soon nicknamed Moneyball-carry a team in a league where proven production is everything?
--I'm a huge baseball fan, and always have been--I had heard of nearly all the players, many of the coaches, even several of the GMs and team owners, and I remember hearing about the A's' '02 season. Plenty of clips of actual games are shown, and the soundtrack is rife with fast-cutting, overlapping commentary from radio and TV announcers first criticizing, then praising, Beane's moves, and the movie's middle section certainly builds apprehension as all Billy's moves-meant to save the team money by going the less-traveled route in recruiting less-proven/higher-potential athletes-seem to backfire early on, but the movie is long. There are a handful of flashbacks to the young Billy's fledgling career, one scene where he encounters his ex-wife (Robin Wright) and a few where he takes care of his kindly 12-year-old, Casey (Kerris Dorsey), and the film is dragging by the time the key baseball season plot plays out. Even to someone like me, who loves baseball, two and a quarter hours is too long.
--Like I said, if you have to watch it, watch for Pitt. He's a dynamo, absolutely commanding every scene he's in, whether he's butting heads with a team scout, throwing things around the clubhouse to get the team's attention after a lackadaisical effort, and, in one great scene, juggling about six different team heads on three different phones while trying to negotiate terms for a key trade, all the while communicating half-silently with Peter, making sure the numbers say it's the wise choice. It helps that Billy Beane's first name is said so much; you stop thinking Brad Pitt after a while, or at least I did. Rather like his pal (and Ocean's co-star) George Clooney, no one will ever forget-or not realize-that Brad Pitt is in a certain movie, but as he gains experience, he's proving that he can adapt and really get inside a character. It's a tough call--who I'd pick for Best Actor out of Pitt here and Clooney in The Descendants--but I'd give it to Pitt, who effortlessly carries this film.
--Jonah Hill has been nominated in the Best Supporting Actor category for his understated performance, and he's solid, effectively-nebbishy for someone who is one of the bigger contemporary names in Hollywood. Hoffman brings his usual intensity to the role of the team's manager, but the role is surprisingly thankless--he only appears in about four scenes. And among the ballplayers, Chris Pratt and Stephen Bishop register convincingly as the self-doubting comebacker and the former golden boy vet, respectively.
--I just don't know what else to say. Brad Pitt is the star of the film, and his performance is solid, but the movie can be slow, and that's saying something if I say it, 'cause I'm a huge baseball fan. Beane's backstory is told with effective poignancy and regret, and the film ends with a haunting musical voiceover by Dorsey as Beane's daughter. But the movie, maybe because it's based on a true story that doesn't end as well as one would like, feels kind of empty. Yes, expectations may have played a role in my lukewarm response (as they did for Descendants), but when I think of Moneyball several hours after watching it, I think of Pitt's enjoyably feisty role, and then only a few other moments even come to mind.
So, do I recommend it?
No. If you absolutely love Pitt, have at it, but Moneyball is overlong and will likely bore anyone who's not a big baseball fan; even actual baseball fans might find themselves bored, considering Beane is not a player but a team manager, and there is little actual game action.
Bottom line (I promise):
Brad Pitt could win an Oscar, but you might be better served just hearing about it. Pic is long, mildly-exciting, and ends on a curiously-flat note.
Moneyball (2011)
Directed by Bennett Miller
Based on the book "Moneyball: The Art of Winning an Unfair Game" by Michael Lewis
Written by Steve Zaillian, Aaron Sorkin, and Stan Chervin
Rated PG-13 for language
Length: 133 minutes
Grade: C
Starring: Brad Pitt, Jonah Hill, Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Chris Pratt, Ken Medlock, Stephen Bishop, and Kerris Dorsey
PREMISE: Oakland Athletics General Manager Billy Beane seeks to rebuild a struggling team by unconventional methods in order to save the team money.
RATED PG-13 for language
Moneyball features what might be Brad Pitt's best performance. If not his sheer greatest, then, certainly,his most commanding. Playing a fast-talking, fearless man of action, Pitt storms through Moneyball on a mission, doing so with such aplomb that you almost forget that guy with the lined face and the Biebover locks is that Brad Pitt, Ocean's 11's Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie's Brad Pitt. That guy. Pitt's performance (which has earned him an Oscar nomination and has generated whispers of potentially bringing him his first win) is the sole reason to watch Moneyball. I've been impressed by his intensity, his screen presence, and his stature in other films (Legends of the Fall, Se7en, Babel), but this is the diamond in the rough of Pitt's career.
--Pitt, who has to be one of the most recognizable people on earth, even with the aforementioned boyish locks, plays Billy Beane, the still-serving General Manager of Major League Baseball's Oakland Athletics. In 2001, the modestly-talented, small-market A's romped through the season, winning 102 games and putting the mighty New York Yankees to the test in the playoffs, though they eventually lost the deciding game of that series. However, as is so often the fate of baseball teams these days that find unexpected success, they were immediately forced to sell their biggest pieces (slugging first baseman Jason Giambi, dynamic outfielder Johnny Damon, strong-armed closer Jason Isringhausen), knowing those men, after the previous season's sucesses, would demand more money, much more than Beane and the A's ownership could afford. Knowing they would suffer these losses, and likely get nothing close in return, Beane and his group of scouts (led by Ken Medlock's stuffy, old-fashioned Grady Fuson) began to look at minor leaguers, college players, and incoming international talents to try and put together a team that could A) appeal to a fan base recovering from losing their three biggest stars, and B) win ballgames.
--However, Beane, once a superstar high school baseball player who passed up a scholarship to Stanford to play in the big leagues, only to have his skills mysteriously erode in an unremarkable career, knows that just guessing-and assuming someone will "develop"-isn't enough. A trip to Cleveland to attempt to get a bargain price for a proven relief pitcher brings him across the path of Peter Brand (a surprisingly meek Jonah Hill), a 25-year-old numbers whiz with an Economics degree from Yale, who nonetheless commands the attention of the Cleveland Indians' entire coaching staff. Impressed with the kid's influence, Beane buys his contract, takes him to Oakland, and finds out what Peter knows, that a number of then-new sabermetrics (percentages, equations, ratios, etc...) could determine a player's potential, as well as separate perceived potential from actual ability. For instance, why not try a hard-hitting catcher (Chris Pratt's Scott Hatteberg) with a bad arm at first base, where his weak arm won't matter? Or why not add proven playoff hero David Justice (Stephen Bishop), even though he's no longer pounding home runs like he once did, and everyone says he's washed up, because he can at least get on base? Billy and Peter's theories are challenged, of course, by everyone from the scouting team to the players themselves to the team's opinionated, old-fashioned manager Art Howe (Phillip Seymour Hoffman), but when the team turns around after a slow start to the 2002 season, everyone starts paying attention. Just how far can this newfangled, numbers-crunching style of evaluating ballplayers-soon nicknamed Moneyball-carry a team in a league where proven production is everything?
--I'm a huge baseball fan, and always have been--I had heard of nearly all the players, many of the coaches, even several of the GMs and team owners, and I remember hearing about the A's' '02 season. Plenty of clips of actual games are shown, and the soundtrack is rife with fast-cutting, overlapping commentary from radio and TV announcers first criticizing, then praising, Beane's moves, and the movie's middle section certainly builds apprehension as all Billy's moves-meant to save the team money by going the less-traveled route in recruiting less-proven/higher-potential athletes-seem to backfire early on, but the movie is long. There are a handful of flashbacks to the young Billy's fledgling career, one scene where he encounters his ex-wife (Robin Wright) and a few where he takes care of his kindly 12-year-old, Casey (Kerris Dorsey), and the film is dragging by the time the key baseball season plot plays out. Even to someone like me, who loves baseball, two and a quarter hours is too long.
--Like I said, if you have to watch it, watch for Pitt. He's a dynamo, absolutely commanding every scene he's in, whether he's butting heads with a team scout, throwing things around the clubhouse to get the team's attention after a lackadaisical effort, and, in one great scene, juggling about six different team heads on three different phones while trying to negotiate terms for a key trade, all the while communicating half-silently with Peter, making sure the numbers say it's the wise choice. It helps that Billy Beane's first name is said so much; you stop thinking Brad Pitt after a while, or at least I did. Rather like his pal (and Ocean's co-star) George Clooney, no one will ever forget-or not realize-that Brad Pitt is in a certain movie, but as he gains experience, he's proving that he can adapt and really get inside a character. It's a tough call--who I'd pick for Best Actor out of Pitt here and Clooney in The Descendants--but I'd give it to Pitt, who effortlessly carries this film.
--Jonah Hill has been nominated in the Best Supporting Actor category for his understated performance, and he's solid, effectively-nebbishy for someone who is one of the bigger contemporary names in Hollywood. Hoffman brings his usual intensity to the role of the team's manager, but the role is surprisingly thankless--he only appears in about four scenes. And among the ballplayers, Chris Pratt and Stephen Bishop register convincingly as the self-doubting comebacker and the former golden boy vet, respectively.
--I just don't know what else to say. Brad Pitt is the star of the film, and his performance is solid, but the movie can be slow, and that's saying something if I say it, 'cause I'm a huge baseball fan. Beane's backstory is told with effective poignancy and regret, and the film ends with a haunting musical voiceover by Dorsey as Beane's daughter. But the movie, maybe because it's based on a true story that doesn't end as well as one would like, feels kind of empty. Yes, expectations may have played a role in my lukewarm response (as they did for Descendants), but when I think of Moneyball several hours after watching it, I think of Pitt's enjoyably feisty role, and then only a few other moments even come to mind.
So, do I recommend it?
No. If you absolutely love Pitt, have at it, but Moneyball is overlong and will likely bore anyone who's not a big baseball fan; even actual baseball fans might find themselves bored, considering Beane is not a player but a team manager, and there is little actual game action.
Bottom line (I promise):
Brad Pitt could win an Oscar, but you might be better served just hearing about it. Pic is long, mildly-exciting, and ends on a curiously-flat note.
Moneyball (2011)
Directed by Bennett Miller
Based on the book "Moneyball: The Art of Winning an Unfair Game" by Michael Lewis
Written by Steve Zaillian, Aaron Sorkin, and Stan Chervin
Rated PG-13 for language
Length: 133 minutes
50/50
50/50 (2011)
Grade: B
Starring: Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Seth Rogen, Anna Kendrick, Bryce Dallas Howard, and Angelica Huston
PREMISE: A young man's orderly life starts falling apart when he's diagnosed with bone cancer.
RATED R for strong language (including graphic sexual references), some sexuality and brief nudity, crude humor, and intense emotional content
--Well, 50/50 took me by surprise. Of course I had seen the trailers, TV spots, and pictures (like the one along this margin to the right) of Joseph Gordon-Levitt shaving his head while Seth Rogen looks on, so I knew it was going to be about someone who contracts cancer. But what I didn’t expect was for the movie to be so overwhelmingly somber. Billed as a comedy-and featuring one of today’s most popular comedians in Rogen-it does have zinging dialogue, amusing sarcasm, jokes here and there, more than one engaging occurrence of dramatic irony, and a classically-comic ending, but it is not a comedy. Not what you and I think of as a comedy, anyway; I doubt anyone will watch 50/50 and walk away quoting the dialogue or itching to recommend it to a friend. But that’s not to say it isn’t well-made.
The credits boast that the film is “based on a true story” and I don’t doubt it. It’s based on many true stories; those of every person who has ever had cancer, whether they’ve lived or died. It’s the story of how their life irrevocably changes, how their body changes, how the treatment of those around them changes and how they wonder-even if their body complies-if they can possibly recover.
Adam (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is a 27-year-old writer for a radio station. He lives a happy, if very even-keeled, life. He’s the type who watches from the sidelines as his horn-dog buddy Kyle (Seth Rogen) goes out day after day to score with the ladies, and the type who still tries to bring real romance to his stale relationship with a self-centered yuppie (Bryce Dallas Howard). He’s spent weeks working on a broadcast piece about a volcano, determined to get it exactly right, and he keeps his clingy mother (Angelica Huston) at bay. But when that nagging pain in his lower back becomes too much, he goes to see a doctor, and the diagnosis is as bad as it could be. “The more syllables, the worse it is” an elderly chemo patient tells Adam, which is bad, since Adam can barely pronounce the extremely drawn-out name for the malignant tumor clinging to his spinal cord. The cancer, of course, has a 50 percent chance of taking his life.
Shocked by the diagnosis, he tries to keep his life from falling apart, but he’s far too standoffish to have his mother around if she’s going to fuss over him all the time, too patient to be sharp with his girlfriend as she begins treating him with a kind of sweet but increasingly-obvious neglect, and too kind to tell his doctoral-studies-student-psychiatrist (Anna Kendrick) that her bland, by-the-book methods do nothing to alleviate his stress or ease his mind. Soon, Adam is barely working, spending his days raising the raggedy dog (named Skeletor) his girlfriend bought him, trying to find the energy and desire to be a decent wingman for his friend, and, slowly, realizing that he is probably going to die.
Like I said, it’s a somber movie. There are laughs to be had-I laughed out loud numerous times, whether at jokes or situations or even the occasional visual gag-yet this movie is only a comedy in its first half-hour, and in its final five minutes. In between, it’s a disturbingly-intimate portrait of a person falling apart (mentally, emotionally, and physically) as the cancer within them grows stronger. I’m sure it will ring very real with anyone who’s had cancer or was close to someone who had/has it, what with the psychiatrist’s pathetic attempts to encourage him (“you’re angry; that’s a good sign”), the best friend’s would-be reassuring reaction to the news (“Really? 50/50? That’s great! I was thinkin’ it would be way worse! If you were a Vegas casino game, you’d be one of the easier ones!”), the way he can’t make himself truly hate his increasingly-distant girlfriend, and, most prominently, Adam’s growing exasperation/frustration/anger at his helplessness.
As the film’s heart, soul, and center, Joseph Gordon-Levitt is superb. As I mentioned, it is only too easy to relate to what Adam is experience and feeling, and that’s because the actor makes it so clear. A quiet but disquieted soul even before the diagnosis, he becomes a boiling pot of repressed rage and frustration at his circumstances; his façade begins to crack long before he goes nearly suicidal and has a hysterical breakdown late in the film. The actor, already a well-known face before he rose to A-list fame with 2010’s Inception, allows you to feel all the bitterness, fear, shame and sadness of his deteriorating body and pitiful life. Given that he’s in nearly every frame of 50/50, Gordon-Levitt is the main reason this film has the impact it does; his performance is 100 percent believable.
As the rude, crude, yet in his own way, supportive, best friend, Rogen gets to harken back to his pre-mainstream fame days in uber-R-rated films like The 40-Year Old Virgin and Knocked Up. He provides almost all the most colorful lines (and, yes, the majority of the laughs), but he gets nowhere near stealing the show from Gordon-Levitt.
The film’s trio of key female characters is brought to life by three talented actresses, with Huston making a mother’s worry, pain, and stress palpable with her expressions alone, Howard bringing some actual humanity to an instant applicant for the All-Time Worst Movie Girlfriends list, and Kendrick making an endearing impression with her limited screen time, as the earnest but inexperienced shrink.
Appropriately suiting a movie like this, the soundtrack is soft and often mournful, the picture often on the darker, greyer side, and the scenes short, many of them meant to add up to something bigger than they mean on their own.
So, do I recommend it?
First off, the film is very crude, with constant profanity and many graphic sexual references/descriptions (not to mention a short but fairly-graphic sex scene), and, secondly, as I’ve been saying, it’s very, very sobering. Billed as a laugh-out-loud comedy, it’s going to be an unpleasant wake-up call for groups of friends seeking some lazy entertainment. Then again, like I said, many people in today’s world-where cancer runs rampant-can relate to the happenings onscreen, however negative they may be. Can you tell I’m torn? Ultimately, I’d say, unless you’re a serious movie buff, or a die-hard fan of Gordon-Levitt or Rogen, it’s nothing you have to see.
Bottom line (I promise):
I think I’ve said everything. You won’t laugh for 100 minutes, as you might expect from a comedy prominently featuring Seth Rogen. Dark and slow, as befitting this material, 50/50 is an effectively-made but gritty, real “comedy”.
50/50 (2011)
Directed by Jonathan Levine
Written by Will Reiser
Rated R for strong language (including graphic sexual references), some sexuality and nudity, drug use, and intense emotional content
Length: 100 minutes
Grade: B
Starring: Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Seth Rogen, Anna Kendrick, Bryce Dallas Howard, and Angelica Huston
PREMISE: A young man's orderly life starts falling apart when he's diagnosed with bone cancer.
RATED R for strong language (including graphic sexual references), some sexuality and brief nudity, crude humor, and intense emotional content
--Well, 50/50 took me by surprise. Of course I had seen the trailers, TV spots, and pictures (like the one along this margin to the right) of Joseph Gordon-Levitt shaving his head while Seth Rogen looks on, so I knew it was going to be about someone who contracts cancer. But what I didn’t expect was for the movie to be so overwhelmingly somber. Billed as a comedy-and featuring one of today’s most popular comedians in Rogen-it does have zinging dialogue, amusing sarcasm, jokes here and there, more than one engaging occurrence of dramatic irony, and a classically-comic ending, but it is not a comedy. Not what you and I think of as a comedy, anyway; I doubt anyone will watch 50/50 and walk away quoting the dialogue or itching to recommend it to a friend. But that’s not to say it isn’t well-made.
The credits boast that the film is “based on a true story” and I don’t doubt it. It’s based on many true stories; those of every person who has ever had cancer, whether they’ve lived or died. It’s the story of how their life irrevocably changes, how their body changes, how the treatment of those around them changes and how they wonder-even if their body complies-if they can possibly recover.
Adam (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is a 27-year-old writer for a radio station. He lives a happy, if very even-keeled, life. He’s the type who watches from the sidelines as his horn-dog buddy Kyle (Seth Rogen) goes out day after day to score with the ladies, and the type who still tries to bring real romance to his stale relationship with a self-centered yuppie (Bryce Dallas Howard). He’s spent weeks working on a broadcast piece about a volcano, determined to get it exactly right, and he keeps his clingy mother (Angelica Huston) at bay. But when that nagging pain in his lower back becomes too much, he goes to see a doctor, and the diagnosis is as bad as it could be. “The more syllables, the worse it is” an elderly chemo patient tells Adam, which is bad, since Adam can barely pronounce the extremely drawn-out name for the malignant tumor clinging to his spinal cord. The cancer, of course, has a 50 percent chance of taking his life.
Shocked by the diagnosis, he tries to keep his life from falling apart, but he’s far too standoffish to have his mother around if she’s going to fuss over him all the time, too patient to be sharp with his girlfriend as she begins treating him with a kind of sweet but increasingly-obvious neglect, and too kind to tell his doctoral-studies-student-psychiatrist (Anna Kendrick) that her bland, by-the-book methods do nothing to alleviate his stress or ease his mind. Soon, Adam is barely working, spending his days raising the raggedy dog (named Skeletor) his girlfriend bought him, trying to find the energy and desire to be a decent wingman for his friend, and, slowly, realizing that he is probably going to die.
Like I said, it’s a somber movie. There are laughs to be had-I laughed out loud numerous times, whether at jokes or situations or even the occasional visual gag-yet this movie is only a comedy in its first half-hour, and in its final five minutes. In between, it’s a disturbingly-intimate portrait of a person falling apart (mentally, emotionally, and physically) as the cancer within them grows stronger. I’m sure it will ring very real with anyone who’s had cancer or was close to someone who had/has it, what with the psychiatrist’s pathetic attempts to encourage him (“you’re angry; that’s a good sign”), the best friend’s would-be reassuring reaction to the news (“Really? 50/50? That’s great! I was thinkin’ it would be way worse! If you were a Vegas casino game, you’d be one of the easier ones!”), the way he can’t make himself truly hate his increasingly-distant girlfriend, and, most prominently, Adam’s growing exasperation/frustration/anger at his helplessness.
As the film’s heart, soul, and center, Joseph Gordon-Levitt is superb. As I mentioned, it is only too easy to relate to what Adam is experience and feeling, and that’s because the actor makes it so clear. A quiet but disquieted soul even before the diagnosis, he becomes a boiling pot of repressed rage and frustration at his circumstances; his façade begins to crack long before he goes nearly suicidal and has a hysterical breakdown late in the film. The actor, already a well-known face before he rose to A-list fame with 2010’s Inception, allows you to feel all the bitterness, fear, shame and sadness of his deteriorating body and pitiful life. Given that he’s in nearly every frame of 50/50, Gordon-Levitt is the main reason this film has the impact it does; his performance is 100 percent believable.
As the rude, crude, yet in his own way, supportive, best friend, Rogen gets to harken back to his pre-mainstream fame days in uber-R-rated films like The 40-Year Old Virgin and Knocked Up. He provides almost all the most colorful lines (and, yes, the majority of the laughs), but he gets nowhere near stealing the show from Gordon-Levitt.
The film’s trio of key female characters is brought to life by three talented actresses, with Huston making a mother’s worry, pain, and stress palpable with her expressions alone, Howard bringing some actual humanity to an instant applicant for the All-Time Worst Movie Girlfriends list, and Kendrick making an endearing impression with her limited screen time, as the earnest but inexperienced shrink.
Appropriately suiting a movie like this, the soundtrack is soft and often mournful, the picture often on the darker, greyer side, and the scenes short, many of them meant to add up to something bigger than they mean on their own.
So, do I recommend it?
First off, the film is very crude, with constant profanity and many graphic sexual references/descriptions (not to mention a short but fairly-graphic sex scene), and, secondly, as I’ve been saying, it’s very, very sobering. Billed as a laugh-out-loud comedy, it’s going to be an unpleasant wake-up call for groups of friends seeking some lazy entertainment. Then again, like I said, many people in today’s world-where cancer runs rampant-can relate to the happenings onscreen, however negative they may be. Can you tell I’m torn? Ultimately, I’d say, unless you’re a serious movie buff, or a die-hard fan of Gordon-Levitt or Rogen, it’s nothing you have to see.
Bottom line (I promise):
I think I’ve said everything. You won’t laugh for 100 minutes, as you might expect from a comedy prominently featuring Seth Rogen. Dark and slow, as befitting this material, 50/50 is an effectively-made but gritty, real “comedy”.
50/50 (2011)
Directed by Jonathan Levine
Written by Will Reiser
Rated R for strong language (including graphic sexual references), some sexuality and nudity, drug use, and intense emotional content
Length: 100 minutes
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