2011
Rated PG
98 minutes

***

I can’t stress enough how badly I wanted to love “The Muppets.” Like many, I grew up watching “Sesame Street” and “The Muppet Show.” Over the years, I only found more reasons to love pretty much everything that came out of the astoundingly imaginative Jim Henson Studios. It seemed impossible not to. There was a Muppet for every personality. The positive messages of friendship, cooperation and determination were uplifting, without being saccharine. Disney bought Jim Henson Studios in 2004 and they are now attempting to reboot the franchise with “The Muppets.” This film, which marks the first time these characters have been on movie screens together in twelve years, poses the question, “Does the world still need the Muppets?” The answer is, “Yes… but not like this.”

James Bobin (“Flight of the Conchords,” “Da Ali G Show”) directs the reverent script by Jason Segel and Nicholas Stoller. Essentially a big-budget fan film (which Segel wrote himself into), it uses a new puppet, named Walter (Peter Linz), to introduce the Muppets to a new generation and to reminisce about them with the old one.

“The Muppets” is actually two movies. One, as you might have guessed, follows the Muppets as they put on one last show in order to save the Muppet Theatre as well as the Muppet name. The other is about a super nice, but somewhat clueless, small town boy named Gary (Segel), who is in a “poop-or-get-off-the-potty” situation with his equally chaste girlfriend of ten years (Amy Adams).

The Muppet movies always had human supporting characters but support was all they were there for. They didn’t need a story of their own because the Muppets were the draw. But if the humans must have their own subplot, the writers could at least make it interesting. After creating some very well realized characters in “Forgetting Sarah Marshall,” I’m profoundly disappointed in Segel for writing a plot that has all the depth of an Archie comic. Clueless boy is clueless. Long-suffering girl suffers because she doesn’t have a ring on that finger and is feeling neglected. Other than that, everything is peachy keen. It’s boring as hell when it’s not perpetuating gender stereotypes.

The element that connects these two stories is Walter, Gary’s felt brother from (presumably) the same mother. Gary and Walter are both Muppet Super Fans. But Walter feels a particular kinship with them. Thus, Gary invites Walter to tag along on his and Mary’s anniversary trip to Hollywood, so that Walter can make a pilgrimage to Muppet Studios and maybe find himself in the process. Meanwhile, Mary feels like the third wheel in her own relationship.

Gary and Mary’s story has very little to do with the familiar fuzzy faces that Walter, and the audience, have come to see. It’s Walter who discovers the evil plot to demolish Muppet Studios to get at the oil that flows underneath it. Walter is the one who suggests tracking down Kermit. And it is Walter who ultimately convinces Kermit to get the band back together. After they remodel the Muppet Theatre, Kermit rightly tells Walter that none of this would have happened without him. Gary and Mary barely do anything significant other than offer words of encouragement that could have come from anyone. The movie doesn’t need them, and neither does Walter.

Perhaps the filmmakers tip their hand in the form of the TV exec (Rashida Jones) that agrees to air the Muppet Telethon. Concerned that the Muppet name is no longer “market relevant,” she stipulates that they attach a star to the project. There must have been a real executive who made similar demands because there are probably more famous humans in the movie than there are Muppets. Every Muppet film has cameos, but they managed to fit the encounters neatly into the plot without feeling gimmicky. Here, they shotgun cameos like it’s Rush Week. Even in a movie called, “The Muppets,” they don’t trust the titular puppets to be the main attraction.

The music is another of the film’s many problems. With Bret McKenzie (“Flight of the Conchords”) behind them, the musical numbers should have been a high point. He manages to encapsulate contemplative Kermit with “Pictures in My Head,” and “Muppet or Man” recalls some of the best Conchords songs. However, McKenzie falls flat with the Mary and Piggy duet “Me Party,” which pegs the female leads as two-dimensional women who don’t know how to enjoy themselves without a boyfriend. While the opening number, “Life is a Happy Song,” has the catchiness of an instant classic, as an introduction to the film’s characters, it doesn’t tell us anything that we can’t glean from the poster.

The most cringe-worthy moments in the film belong to a character that is integral to the Muppet plot. An over-the-top villain can be a lot of fun. Unfortunately, as oil baron Tex Richman, Chris Cooper chews the scenery like it’s a pouch of Big League. One of his more annoying qualities is to say “maniacal laugh” in place of laughing maniacally. It was probably in the script, but because of this little character quirk, Cooper is completely upstaged by his puppet henchmen (Uncle Deadly and Bobo the Bear). Nearly every moment he is on screen is excruciating.

Particularly painful is Tex Richman’s solo number, “Let’s Talk About Me,” which makes Brian Doyle Murphy’s “Noah’s Arcade” rap in “Wayne’s World” sound like “Straight Outta Compton.” It’s embarrassing to watch in a “my dad is trying to look hip” kind of way. Chris Cooper, take note: Just because you’re in a Muppet movie does not mean you have to act like a Muppet. There’s something to be said for playing it straight in an insane world. Just ask Dabney Coleman.

But, as I said, “The Muppets” is really two movies. And one of those movies is quite good, albeit awfully similar to previous films. If you’re going to rehash a Muppet plot, it might as well be “The Muppets Take Manhattan.” Among the familiar elements: Kermit rallies the troops and goes against the odds to put on a show, whilst clumsily navigating his relationship with Miss Piggy. Fozzie tells endearingly bad jokes. Animal struggles with his violence issues. Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem rock the roof off the joint. Statler and Waldorf complain about everything. The ensemble tear-jerks their way through “The Rainbow Connection.” The gang even stack themselves into a Muppet Man suit to con their way past an ironclad reception desk, for old-time’s sake. They may not be original, but these moments are a lot of fun.

On the other hand, it was always so disappointing when a TV show would pass off a clip show as a new episode by stringing them together with a flimsy through-line. Sure, they were compiling some of the best scenes of the series, but they were way better in their original context. When it was time to play the music and light the lights, I got chills. But, at the end of the day, it was just a clip show.

Originally posted on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

March 3, 2012
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

Film Threat compiled top ten movie lists from its writers. Here are my picks:

10. Crazy, Stupid, Love.
If you haven’t seen this romantic comedy, you may be surprised to see it on this list. Believe me, I’m as surprised as you are that I was actually tickled and moved by this genre-transcendent film. Before this movie, I thought Ryan Gosling was just another pretty boy actor with zero substance. But if you’ve seen “Blue Valentine” or “Half Nelson” (I had yet to), you already know that I was dead wrong. Baby Goose gives an incredibly nuanced performance as the professional-caliber lothario who teaches Steve Carell how to be a cold-hearted snake before falling ass-over-elbow for the beguiling Emma Stone. I gave it just three stars in my review upon its release. But it stuck with me throughout the year and I now think I sold it a little short. Today, I bequeath it an extra star!

9. Fright Night (2011)
I’m generally anti-remake. What’s the point, when there’s a perfectly good movie by the same name that already exists? But I couldn’t deny the fun of “Fright Night”. Colin Farrel is very much in his element here as the douchebag vamp who cons a Las Vegas suburb into being his dinner.

8. Conan O’Brian Can’t Stop
It’s the “Don’t Look Back” of comedian documentaries, revealing Coco as a neurotic, bitter and astonishingly talented man.

7. American Animal
Sometimes, a film about people having an ongoing conversation ends up being as engaging and multi-faceted as a real conversation. I was pondering this one long after it was over.

6. Being Elmo: A Puppeteers Journey
You don’t have to dig Elmo (or have a kid who does) to enjoy the story of Kevin Clash, the man behind the furry red monster who loves everyone. But it probably helps.

5. Bellflower
I don’t know if this film succeeded in putting Evan Glodell on the map. But he sure deserves all the hype surrounding his triple threat performance as writer, director and star of this story about a relationship gone nuclear.

4. The Thief of Bagdad: Re-Imagined By Shadoe Stevens, Featuring the Music of E.L.O.
The title barely scratches the surface of how awesome Shadoe Stevens’ pet project ended up. He spent years searching for the perfect soundtrack to appropriately honor and elevate the magic of his favorite film of the silent era. He finally found it in the music of the Electric Light Orchestra, resulting in an eerily harmonious marriage that takes you on an adventure of the senses. {Cough, cough, cough.}

3. Kill List
“Kill List” sneaks up on you from behind and bludgeons you in the brains (in the best possible way).

2. Drive
This movie is ultraviolent, effortlessly cool and sexy as hell. Ryan motherfucking Gosling. I wanted to see it again immediately after it ended.

1. The Future
Every once in a while, I go into a film knowing it’s about to become one of my all-time favorites. Miranda July’s oddball storytelling is just my bag, plain and simple. From the opening monologue delivered in the shaky, high-pitched voice of a terminally ill cat, I fell in love with “The Future” and immediately planned the rest of our lives together. Like her first, equally perfect feature film, “The Future” is about the lengths people go to feel connected and the weird things that fear drives them to do. It’s hilarious, existential, uncomfortable, heart wrenching and completely devoid of pretension. I hope they figure out how to keep heads alive in jars, a la “Futurama” because Miranda July’s brain is incredible.

Read the rest of the lists at Film Threat.

December 31, 2011
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

2011
Rated R
94 minutes

***

I’m not what you would call a Diablo Cody fan, so I was fully prepared to rip on “Young Adult.” Had she written another catchphrase quirkfest, I would have had a field day. I have to give Diablo props (do you mind if I call you Diablo?) because “Young Adult” is about as far from “Juno” as one can get and still carry the Cody watermark. It’s an exploration of what happens to the most popular girl in high school once she leaves the monarchy and has to face the real world. It seems that being beautiful and marginally literate can only get you so far.

But isn’t this movie supposed to be a comedy? The laughs are few and far between in this cringingly realistic portrait of a sociopath. It’s almost a revenge fantasy, as an aging prom queen spirals headlong into a nervous breakdown. The performances are solid enough to keep you watching, but it’s not exactly a fun time at the movies.

Once again, Cody teams up with director Jason Reitman (“Juno,” “Up in the Air”) to tell the story of Mavis Gary (Charlize Theron, “Monster”), a 37-year-old ghostwriter for a once-popular teen lit series called Waverly Prep. Nursing an ever-present hangover, she slumps around her trashed apartment in her pajamas, trying to finish the last book. A birth announcement email from her high school ex, Buddy Slade (Patrick Wilson) prompts a trip back to her tiny hometown of Mercury, MN. She’s on a mission to rescue him from the domestic life she convinces herself he doesn’t want.

We have no reason to believe that this is anything other than an out-of-the-blue impulse. Apart from her book, one night stands and getting hammered, Mavis has nothing going on. She may not have even thought of Buddy in years. He just popped up in her in-box during a lull and she decided to use him as a procrastination tactic.

Once she hits town, Mavis heads straight for the local bar, where she encounters another former classmate, Matt Freehauf (Patton Oswalt, in his nerdy element). Though they were locker neighbors (aren’t they always), she doesn’t remember him at first. He was one of the little people in her vast kingdom. But he jogs her memory with his tale of woe as “The Hate Crime Guy.”

Matt was crippled by jocks in a horrible gay-bashing incident that earned national media attention until the press realized that it was a case of mistaken sexuality. Mavis makes light of his situation (“Could you walk any slower?”), constantly turning the conversation back to herself throughout their subsequent unlikely friendship. They get hammered on bourbon and a lonely Matt listens to Mavis concoct her delusional schemes to steal a politely oblivious Buddy away from his wife and daughter. Matt calls her out at every opportunity. He’s the only one who does so. But she ignores him, just as she ignores the more subtle signals from everyone else in town telling her she’s off base.

Theron does an incredible job with the role proving that she doesn’t need to wear prosthetics to play ugly. Mavis is simply not a good person. Beauty is power in high school and in certain metropolitan circles. But in a real town like Mercury, they don’t give a crap about fresh mani-pedis and silk blouses. Everyone regards Mavis with polite horror, and she takes their silence as a sign that they are buying her bullshit. Even her parents, whom she avoided until she ran into her mother on the street, are so tired of her shtick that, when she blurts out a true admission that she’s an alcoholic, they laugh it off as just another plea for attention.

Another actress with comparable beauty would have botched the role, playing it with one note. But Theron does so much with just one glare. We can see deep into where Mavis’ soul would be, if she had one. She speaks in platitudes, crediting destiny and true love for her actions. But she’s just saying and doing what she thinks a character in her books would do. She’s not just a bitch. She’s Dexter Morgan minus the bloody history and code.

Which leads me to my main issue with the film: Why should we care about Mavis? For the audience to have empathy for a wholly unlikeable person, you have to give them a motivation for being that way. Mavis’ parents are both still alive and seem perfectly normal. Mavis does reveal a small piece of baggage near the end of the film, but it’s pretty clear that she only brings it up to garner sympathy. It’s not something that’s been haunting her this whole time, making her do evil things. It’s just another manipulation card. Without proper motivation, you’re just watching a bad person do bad things.

In that case, some jokes are in order. There are a handful of truly humorous moments, but 99% of them belong to Patton Oswalt, and his character is not the focus of the film. Mavis would be friends with anybody with a bottle opener. The more interesting question is why Matt would hang out with Mavis. Sure it’s partly “Breakfast Club” curiosity and partly boredom. But she’s not exactly good company. She should be the unlikely buddy in a movie about “The Hate Crime Guy.”

Matt tells Mavis straight up that she’s being crazy and selfish. He attempts to give her a wakeup call with every interaction, but she keeps hitting the snooze bar. I hate to advocate for less movies with female protagonists, but if that’s what you’re going to do with them, they’re better off in small doses.

It’s not that sociopathic women can’t make appealing characters (see Baby Firefly in “The Devil’s Rejects”), it’s just that something needs to happen to them. Otherwise, what’s the point?

“Young Adult,” as it stands, is a slice-of-life piece about a beautiful lunatic who tries to ruin some lives, fails and carries on being loony. It’s an intriguing place to visit. But I wouldn’t want to live there.

Originally posted on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

December 30, 2011
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

2011
Rated PG
124 minutes

*

With one line in “Jerry Maguire” (1996), Cameron Crowe officially switched gears from being an edgy rock n’ roll filmmaker to becoming the Crown Prince of Schmaltz. (It’s gotten so bad, that sometimes I’m not even sure his “good movies” deserve all their praise.) Nonetheless, “You complete me” now sounds like Yeates compared to some of the self-help advice uttered by the characters in “We Bought a Zoo.” The weird thing is, I don’t think he’s being disingenuous. I have a feeling that this is actually how Cameron Crowe lives his life, finding signs in everything and espousing about the importance of taking insane risks because life is an adventure. He loves love and he wants everyone else to love it too. Crowe’s emotional maturity is Benjamin Button, aging in reverse. Unfortunately, this means that “We Bought a Zoo” is an excruciating film for anyone not wearing rose-colored glasses.

The film is based on the real life experience of British journalist Benjamin Mee (Matt Damon), who moves his family from the city to a rural zoo in order to help them move past the untimely death of the family matriarch. The film quickly catches the audience up through heavy exposition. His troubled teenage son, Dylan (Colin Ford, a.k.a. flashback Sam Winchester on “Supernatural”) argues that it doesn’t matter if he’s been neglecting his studies in lieu of his artwork because “they’re not gonna give an F to a kid whose mom died 6 months ago.” His seven-year-old daughter, Rosie (a so-cute-it-hurts, Maggie Elizabeth Jones), occupies the precocious ray-of-sunshine role uttering such contrivances as, “their happy is too loud” of their perpetually partying neighbors. I suppose we’re meant to see it as inspirational when a widower with two children to feed, quits his job on a whim AND refuses a severance package because he’s “sick of sympathy.” An instant later, Dylan is kicked out of school for stealing, thus justifying Benjamin’s plan to “start over.”

What follows is a train wreck full of fluffy bunnies and rainbows. After an exhaustive, one-day search for a new home, Benjamin decides to buy the decrepit countryside zoo, home to 49 species of animals and an entire staff, simply because his daughter looks happy feeding some peacocks and the sunshine hits her just so as the music swells. The sun comes back time and time again to signify revelations and canonize the dead through photos and flashbacks. I hope it received a SAG day rate for its pivotal role in the Mee family’s emotional journey.

Crowe isn’t entirely to blame for this Sapfest. He punched up a script by Aline Brosh McKenna, the woman behind such inoculations of feminism as “27 Dresses” and “I Don’t Know How She Does It.” One shudders to imagine the original draft.

“Caricature” is a generous word to describe the supporting cast, as a caricature usually depicts more than one facet of a personality (skateboards AND hot dogs). The staff at the Rosemoor Zoo isn’t quite so complex. ScarJo is the no-nonsense head zookeeper who, after she warms to Benjamin, does little more than throw him supportive smiles. Patrick Fugit plays a guy who stands around with a monkey on his shoulder. Elle Fanning is the sweet teenage love-interest for Dylan. She tails him like a smiley, mute puppy dog for most of the movie and then gets mad because he doesn’t know how to talk to her. Thomas Hayden Church plays Benjamin’s accountant big brother (We know this because, at one point, he says, “Listen to your big brother, the accountant”). There is also a Scottish animal habitat designer with an adorable case of alcoholism, an uptight zoo accountant, and a petty inspector with a chip on his shoulder for no reason other than to create conflict and prompt a calendar-checking montage.

As for Damon’s performance, I see what he tried to do there. But his attempts at underplaying the melodrama are thwarted by come-to-life visions of his wife in happier times (they’re the sort of family who literally frolicked in a field with…airplane arms) and crying ONE SINGLE TEAR when scrolling through an iPhoto album. I usually enjoy his work, so I’m hoping this is just a fluke for him and that he hasn’t fallen prey to whatever it is that made Tom Hanks become a man who would agree to star opposite a volleyball. To his credit, it’s pretty hard to take the cheddar out of a thinly veiled terminally ill tiger metaphor. Benjamin all but calls the tiger by his wife’s name during this drawn-out parallel. The only one who comes out of that with any dignity in tact is the tiger.

Even in the worst Cameron Crowe films, the soundtrack is usually a bright spot. It appears that he’s lost that edge as well. Instead, he took a play from the McG Manual of Literal Soundtracks. “Don’t Come Around Here No More” underscores Dylan being expelled from school. “I Think It’s Going to Rain Today” plays when it rains. When Benjamin is writing checks beyond his means, he does so to Temple of the Dog’s “Hunger Strike.”

I do have to give the script props for not fast-tracking the Damon/ScarJo romance. Six months is not long enough to get over the alleged love of your life, no matter how much effort you’re putting into moving on. But they neutralize this authenticity by including stereotypical father-and-son issues. You know, the ones that could have long been resolved by simply listening to one other and admitting that you actually give a damn (Oh, you men).

Those are just some of the more glaring issues with a film that is essentially a parody of family melodrama. Here are a few more: The titular line is uttered THREE TIMES (twice by little Rosie in exactly the same tone). Dylan mainly draws severed limbs, but he’s also, unintentionally, a skilled graphic design artist. Benjamin has a bad rapport with the animals until he follows the staff’s advice that he should “just be real with them.” I could go on, but I think you get the point.

Cameron Crowe got his start as a rock journalist, but now he’s about as rock n’ roll as “River of Dreams”-era Billy Joel. Yeah, don’t see this movie.

Originally posted on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

December 30, 2011
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

Rated R
103 minutes

**

When the Powers That Be suggested John Carpenter’s “The Thing (1982)” for the next big remake, there must have been some folks in the room who understood that there is no substitute for the horror masterpiece. Yet, they couldn’t leave well enough alone (have you met Hollywood?). Instead, they decided to disguise their remake as a prequel. I suppose one could argue that “The Thing (1982)” began in the middle of a larger story, after the creature had already decimated one camp. But the Thing has one modus aperandi: impersonate the inhabitants of Antarctic research camps and kill them off one by one. All of this has happened before and all of this will happen again. In essence, “The Thing (2011)” is a big old pile of redundancy, wrapped up in flames and topped with a Ripley-shaped bow.

Predictably, the film begins with a sweeping overhead shot of barren tundra. Amid the vast, white landscape, a teeny tiny vehicle trucks along to nowhere. And it is right in the middle of nowhere that the Norwegian scientists inside the vehicle locate the source of a mysterious beacon. Their subsequent discovery of a spaceship and the ice-encased body of the ship’s pilot is a surprise only to the characters in the movie. Lead asshole scientist, Dr. Sander Halvorson, (apparently deeming his large Norwegian team insufficient) quickly brings in some Americans to help him score that Nobel. One of them is Kate Lloyd (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), a shrewd paleontologist who wears the hell out of a form-fitting sweater. She’s wary from the get-go, and suggests that they don’t rush into anything. But Dr. Halvorson meets her warnings with condescension and misogyny, explaining that he didn’t bring her there to do the thinky kind of science. After long, the Thing escapes the melting ice block. Thus, kicking off the murderous, shape-shifting rampage we’ve all come to expect.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s an exciting rampage. Even though the plot is a foregone conclusion, the Thing is a really cool monster that mutilates and fuses with people in all kinds of fun ways. It’s also nice to see some ladies around the lab. Winstead is a substantial, engaging heroine who looks quite natural holding a flamethrower. When it seemed like they were about to launch into a copycat blood test scene, they took an original left turn, coming up with another way to tell who was human and who wasn’t. Van Heijningen also does a great job maintaining the tone of “The Thing (1982)” and his look is very reminiscent of that film.

While he mostly maintains creature continuity, there is one major discrepancy in the way it behaves. In Carpenter’s film, there was the impression that shape shifting was something of a defense mechanism for an alien in unfamiliar surroundings. At times, it even seemed a little frightened. Van Heijningen’s Thing is all predator, taking a balls-out approach, rather than trying to stay under the radar.

Not knowing exactly where or who the Thing was really contributed to the overwhelming sense of suspicion and dread that made the 1982 release so scary. “Show, don’t tell” is a tried and true rule for movies, unless you’re dealing with the horror genre. We saw tendrils and claws as the creature transformed from one guy into another, but we had no idea what it looked like when it wasn’t stalking research scientists. “The Thing (2011)” is all about showing. As soon as van Heijningen shines a spotlight on the creature, the unspeakable horror the audience was imagining fades into the best mass of slime, teeth and claws the effects guy could muster. By the end, we have a pretty clear picture of what the population of Planet Thing looks like. It’s still kind of scary. But, at the end of the day, it’s just another monster with a vagina dentata for a mouth.

Some might say that comparing and contrasting “The Thing (2011)” with “The Thing (1982)” is unfair. But hey, if you want your film to be judged as a standalone piece, don’t do a remake. If you want people to believe that it’s a prequel, not a remake, certainly don’t give it the same goddamn title. Maybe don’t rehash the plot so much either. Sure it’s the same creature, and it stands to reason that it would behave the same way in a different camp. But if that’s the case, why did we have to see it again? Any intelligent person who saw the 1982 film can fill in the blanks that the Norwegian camp left. Maybe we wouldn’t have pictured a beautiful American paleontologist, or that specific collection of guff, bearded men. But we got the idea. As thrilling and faithful as the new story is, it still feels so tremendously superfluous.

The biggest misstep in “The Thing (2011)” is that they couldn’t resist giving us more of everything: more firepower (and actual fire), more dismembered bits of the Thing skittering around and infecting people, more infected people at one time and more of the Thing itself. We see inside the Thing as it’s mid-transformation and you’d better believe we get to see the inside of that spaceship as well as an idea of how it works.

“The Thing (2011)” isn’t exactly terrible. Fans of the original should see it, if only to revisit that universe from a more James Cameron-esque angle. But it is, by no means, an essential addendum to what is now canon. Ultimately, if you hate surprises and mystery, or love to smugly point out ironic foreshadowing, then this is the movie for you.

Originally posted on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

October 14, 2011
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

2011
Unrated
83 minutes

***

In the late 90s, robot death matches became a national sport. Geeky dads and engineering students worked furiously in their garages to build machines, designed to do one thing: destroy other robots. When “Robot Wars” went off the air, our metal friends thought their long nightmare was over. But it turns out it was just passed on to the next generation. Joey Dauod’s documentary, “Bots High,” follows three teams of high school students in Florida, as they prepare their creations for the national championship.

For the egghead kids with designs on attending M.I.T., there isn’t much in the way of traditional extracurricular activities to compliment their skill set. Fortunately, several schools around the country have started offering a sort of robotics club, with a robot battle as the end game. It’s a great way for them to experience a practical application for the math and science they’ve learned, as well as get to know other, like-minded teens. Besides, a geek is a lot more daunting when they have a killer machine under their command.

“Bots High” introduces us to such contenders as Fluffy II (whose predecessor self-destructed), Famous Last Words, El Cholo and Lil’ Kanye. Their creators are some astoundingly smart teenagers, including several very capable girls. Now, I’m not surprised that the ladies are up to the task, but apparently the engineering field has a huge gender gap. Only 16% of engineering students are women. Here’s hoping this film, and the increasing prevalence of robotics clubs, will inspire more girls to put down the Gucci and pick up a wrench.

While it’s not going to win any cinematography awards, Dauod’s film is a lot of fun. Interspersed interview segments and stock music lend the film a reality show quality. But it has all the elements necessary to weave a compelling story. It has suspense, as one of the teams just can’t seem to apply themselves to the task, working up until literally the last minute at the competition to get their robot up and running. There’s a bit of romance, as the guys and gals flirt in the workroom. One particularly opportunistic fellow is great at working in comforting hugs when the girls experience setbacks. There is camaraderie as the teams band together to help each other with mechanical issues mid-competition. And, of course, there is plenty of robot carnage.

I don’t know whether to look forward to a future in which these kids are creating machines that will protect us and improve our quality of life, or fear their potential to bring about the robot apocalypse. Regardless, I believe the children are our future. Teach them well and let them build robots that kick ass.

Originally posted on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

October 14, 2011
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

2011
Rated R
107 minutes

***

Does anyone still think clowns are funny? I never understood the appeal. A traditional clown is, well, lame. Shakes the Clown is the only one who has ever made me laugh, and that’s more to do with the hilarity of alcoholism than the nature of his vocation. What’s so funny about big shoes (dangerous) or a cramming a lot of people into a small car (diseases)?

Take away their sanity and hand them a weapon, however, and now we’re on to something. From the Joker to Killer Klowns to Pennywise and back to the Joker, the Demented Clown has a proud cinematic tradition. Director, Álex de la Iglesia (“Gordos”), adds to the illustrious list with the unhinged clowns of “The Last Circus.” While his film has its share of narrative issues, Javier and Sergio are decent examples of clowns to be reckoned with.

“The Last Circus” opens in 1937 Madrid, in the midst of the Spanish Civil War, as the rebel militia compulsorily recruits a group of circus performers mid-show. There is no time to change clothes and besides, “a clown with a machete will scare the shit out of [the enemy]”, they wager. The harebrained scheme works and, before long, a Happy Clown is the last one standing, splattered with the blood of the Nationals. It’s an intense, gory, and hilarious scene, shot with plenty of Tarantino-esque slow motion. Barnum and Bailey take note: Hand-to-hand combat is the most entertaining clown context.

Despite the battle’s outcome, the rebels do not win the war, and the Happy Clown is sent to a prison labor camp where he is eventually executed. Before he dies, he tells his son, Javier, that should he follow in his father’s footsteps, he must be a Sad Clown; for his life has been nothing but tragedy. Oh, and while he’s at it, a little paternal avenging would be nice. Thirty-five years later, as the Franco era winds down, the boy has become a sad, humorless fat man who, despite his setbacks, is still determined to join the family business.

He finds work under a sociopath, a Happy Clown named Sergio, and develops an instant attraction to Sergio’s girlfriend, Natalia, an acrobat with some mental issues of her own. Javier is the only one brave enough to stand up to Sergio and, when he tries to rescue Natalia from her abusive relationship, she claims to be grateful. But, to Javier’s frustration, she always ends up back in the arms of her assailant. One can’t resolve such a cuckoo love triangle without a little bloodshed. Thus, the film devolves into an extensive battle of Sad Clown vs. Happy Clown in a contest of who is more fucked up.

Despite all the lovely clown carnage, I’m still not sure whether I liked “The Last Circus.” Obviously, we can’t expect a story like this to be pragmatic, but as the rivalry between Sergio and Javier escalates, some of the things that happen are downright preposterous. It’s hard to imagine the circumstances that would lead an adult human to becoming Franco’s lead hunting dog, but Javier’s boneheaded notions get him there.

Natalia is as troublesome as she is beautiful and it’s not entirely clear why Javier goes to such extremes for her. As they carry on their “affair,” she consistently places them in situations in which Sergio could easily find them out. It’s also unclear whether Natalia is trying to set Javier up or she really is that stupid. She’s either a femme fatale or the true villain of the film. Either way, she’s kind of shitty.

So as far as likeable characters, that leaves Sergio, the Happy Clown who knocks his girlfriend unconscious at a dinner party and then commands everyone to order dessert. His violent streak notwithstanding, he’s the most talented of the three. Plus, since his girlfriend is actually trying to cheat on him every chance she gets, his ire is somewhat justified. But he’s also one mean son of a bitch and he certainly takes his wrath too far.

As Sergio and Javier’s dealings become more grotesque, so do their faces, until they’re basically two Batman villains minus the common enemy. But “The Last Circus” is at its best when its clowns rampage murderously. Fortunately, there’s rampaging aplenty and it culminates in an exciting resolution involving circus powers. The film could be shorter and slightly less pretentious and the characters could be more empathetic, but as far as Demented Clown movies go, “The Last Circus” is a fine specimen.

Originally posted on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

August 19, 2011
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

2011
Rated R
92 minutes

***

Let’s face it. Since the early Aughts, horror villains have been, by and large, drags. Even Founding Fathers of supernatural serial killing, like Freddy and Michael Myers, experienced a 21st century overhaul; a re-invention which sucked all the light-heartedness out of their respective franchises. Meanwhile, the “Saws” and “Hostels” gave us torture porn, which satisfies the visceral bloodlust but isn’t exactly a laugh riot. It’s about time somebody made the horror franchise fun again. And there are few things more fun than the wacky Rube Goldberg ways of Death’s Design. In 3D!

After the entertaining – but ultimately flat – false series-ender, “The Final Destination”, the careless Reaper returns to clean up yet another of his botched attempts at killing attractive youths. This time, it’s the dynamic corporate team of a paper company (Hey! That would make a good sitcom!), who thwart Death’s Design only to learn that he means to finish the job in a variety of gloriously gruesome and convoluted ways. (I hope this is just Death’s way of keeping things interesting. Otherwise, he might want to consider another line of work.)

Anyone new to the series will quickly get up-to-speed during the opening credits as a long stream of deadly objects hurl toward them. This is also where rookie director, Steven Quale, shows off a little, showcasing the pitch-perfect 3D gore effects that are to come. Horror is the perfect genre for 3D. After a brief introduction to the characters, they get right to the mass destruction. On their way to a corporate retreat, Sam (Nicholas D’Agosto) has a vision of the bridge they’re stopped on, collapsing and killing everyone. This is the world’s most terrible bridge, where one crack in the wrong place coupled with a gust of wind, sends the entire thing crumbling into the water. It’s a very impressive, very awesome disaster scene that rivals the groundbreaking choreography of the freeway pileup in “Final Destination 2”. Sam is able to convince seven of his co-workers to get off the bus and they race to safety as the ground disintegrates beneath them.

The survivors consider themselves lucky until, at the funeral of their fallen colleagues, a sinister, whistling coroner named Bludworth (series regular, Tony Todd), warns them that Death doesn’t like to be cheated and he will come back to set things right. Despite all the ominous whistling, they are nonetheless surprised when, sure enough, Death picks them off in the order in which they were meant to die.

By now, audiences know what to expect: Elaborate death scenes involving faulty wiring, loose screws and spilled water that eventually lead to an unexpected freak accident. The “OWWH!” moment is what we’ve come to see, but screenwriter, Eric Heisserer does us one better. He understands that the reason the first two films worked so much better than 3 and 4 were because of the fleshed out characters. It’s fun to see all the different ways a person can be impaled, but if the people in peril are just archetypes, it’s a slog to get through the remaining scenes. The protagonists here aren’t exactly Rosemary Woodhouses, but they’re whole people with dreams and heartbreaks. We can feel their grief and fear and we genuinely want them to live. Final Destination’s first foray into 3D was one death scene after another. Five lets us get to know our characters a little bit, and then kills them off in 3D.

The fifth installment also introduces a new potential solution for thwarting Death’s Design (They didn’t say “Death’s Design” nearly enough this time around, so I have to make up for it here). This isn’t a personal vendetta for Death. He just needs to keep his books straight. So old Bludworth suggests that if one of these doomed souls takes the life of a person who wasn’t meant to die, they can have their years and everything will be square. It adds an interesting bit of extra tension as some consider testing the theory.

It’s not a perfect film. The first post-bridge collapse death is so outlandish that even the characters remark on its improbability. But, things get much better once Death gets back to his signature work of impalements and defenestrations. If this is indeed the final “Final Destination”, it’s a nice clean end to the series. But the freak accident premise has endless possibilities. They could also delve more into the supernatural aspect it, and give us an explanation as to who would bother to give someone a glimpse into their future if their future was inevitable (and why). They can get as existential as they want or take it back to bloody basics. All I know is I will be in line every time. Even if these movies always make me want to go home and tighten every screw and bolt in my house.

Originally posted on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

August 13, 2011
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

2011
Rated PG-13
117 minutes

***

I was all set to hate “Crazy, Stupid, Love.”. For starters, the title is terrible. Not only is it a punctuation nightmare, but it also encapsulates everything that’s annoying about romantic comedies. Love, man. It’s so craaaazy! And stupid! The last thing we need is another movie about Metrosexual Henry Higgins teaching some nerd how to bag babes. The poster recycles that tired nod to “The Graduate” with an anxious man beneath the arch of a sexy lady leg. Along the bottom is a series of headshots of the other actors staring off into the middle distance and smiling knowingly about how crazy and stupid love is. Well, I hope that whoever was in charge of marketing gets a stern talking-to, because “Crazy, Stupid, Love.”, while possessing a few slightly unbelievable moments of coincidence, is not really stupid at all. Crazy!

Cal (Steve Carell) is utterly shattered when his adulterous wife (Julianne Moore) drops the Divorce bomb on him. By the time Playboy Extraordinaire, Jacob (Ryan Gosling), takes him under his wing, Cal has hit a lot of new lows including repeating his tale of woe to everyone within earshot at the local singles bar. After a refreshingly amusing variation on the obligatory training and makeover montage (peppered with much comedic slapping), Cal is ready to field test his new social skills. Predictably, he does everything wrong on his first night out. Nonetheless, it somehow works on a jaded wild woman (Marisa Tomei) who gets off on his extreme honesty. With Cal’s newfound confidence, the Dud-erpillar is re-born as a Stud-erfly. Once all that is out of the way, the film is finally free to become the drollest and distinctly mature mainstream romantic comedy in years.

Of course, it doesn’t hurt that they loaded the cast with talent. Ryan Gosling flexes his impressive comedic muscles, breathing new life into the lonely lothario persona. Despite chiseled abs and a curious accent, Gosling’s Jacob is more Barney Stinson than the Situation, with a sensitive soul lurking just below the surface of his exfoliated skin. It’s not until he meets Hannah (Emma Stone), the only woman to ever deconstruct his methods, that he considers dropping the designer act and being himself full time.

Carrell’s abused puppy face isn’t anything new, but he’s really quite good at it. Julianne Moore effortlessly packs both humor and pathos into every line. Stone is almost supernaturally beguiling as a misguided pragmatist just out of law school. Tomei plays her part a little broad, but I’m assuming it’s because she didn’t read the rest of the script and based her performance off the tone that the title implies.

Even the youngest actors hold their own in a cute, if over-explored, love triangle subplot. Cal’s thirteen-year-old son, Robbie (Jonah Bobo) is in love with the four-years-older babysitter, Jessica (Analeigh Tipton). Meanwhile, Jessica crushes on an oblivious Cal, even before his wardrobe overhaul. Bobo expertly wields the articulation and mannerisms of precociously insightful youth. Though several years out of high school, Tipton manages to squeeze her adult self back into that awkward period when innocence and sexuality collide. Not bad for a former “America’s Next Top Model” contestant.

The clever script boasts plenty of surprises including an adorably self-aware seduction scene between Hannah and Jacob and just why it is that Jacob volunteers to help Cal in the first place. But the biggest revelation of all is that the film never goes where you expect it to, with Cal using his newfound self-esteem to trick his wife into falling for him again. In a time when comedies are mostly about outrageous one-upmanship, “Crazy, Stupid, Love.” just wants to tell a story about people falling in and out of love. Though it contains idealistic characters, the script (by Dan Fogelman, “Cars”) is realistic in its execution. No one is infallible and no one (apart from a few peripheral characters) is an archetype. Young boys do think in absolutes. Maybe Cal and Emily don’t belong together, but you can definitely see why Cal might think there’s something worth salvaging. There are also real consequences to Cal’s period of sluttery, including a disastrous encounter with Tomei’s character, who was expecting to be more than just a confidence bone.

Despite all the surprises, it’s not a perfect film. They throw the kind of yucky phrase, “soul mate,” around a bit too much for my taste. But the biggest narrative misstep is with the kids’ storyline. Hannah disappears for a very large chunk of the film (presumably, she’s in Bar Exam hell), to make way for scene after scene of Robbie’s relentless pursuit of Jessica as she pines for Cal. Fogelman was probably trying to drive home the juxtaposition of love in its infancy (Cal and Emily met in high school) to love after it’s been corrupted by life. But Robbie’s unyielding romanticism and know-it-all confidence gets a bit tiring. It’s nothing out of character for a lovesick thirteen-year-old boy. We just don’t need to see it every time it happens.

The film starts to lose focus after a big scene that ties all the characters together and there are far too many endings for a movie that doesn’t actually resolve anything. Like most comedies that run longer than 90 minutes, they could have trimmed a lot of fat.

Still, not bad for a Rom-Com. Not bad at all.

Originally published on FilmThreat.com. 

July 29, 2011
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

2011 FANTASIA FEST SELECTION!
Rated R
106 minutes

****

Forget those marmot-wielding guys in black from “The Big Lebowski.” Woodrow (Evan Glodell) and Aiden (Tyler Dawson) of “Bellflower” are the denotative Nihilists. Devoid of responsibilities, their days involve imbibing a constant stream of alcohol as they prepare for a “Mad Max” style post-apocalypse and… that’s about it. But their lives get a lot more eventful when Woodrow meets Milly (Jessie Wiseman), an equally unencumbered wild girl. They fall for each other like a ton of bricks but as the opening rapid fire backwards montage of brutality suggests, there’s no fairy tale ending for these crazy kids. What are on the menu, however, are large quantities of fire, one badass car and a riveting and wholly unique depiction of the dark places that love can take us. You may think you already know what heartbreak looks like, but trust me when I say you’ve never seen anything like Woodrow’s broken heart.

When we first meet Woodrow and Aiden, they’re doing what they probably do every day: build gadgets that serve no real purpose in civilization as it stands, but that would immediately rocket them to the top of the food chain if society crumbles. Their crowning achievement is a muscle car called, “Medusa.” This thing is Grace Jones on wheels: simultaneously beautiful and terrifying. But she won’t be complete until they can figure out a way to make her shoot flames. Only then will they truly be ready to rule like Lord Humungus.

Their end-of-days preparations are stymied when Woodrow meets Milly. Immediately smitten, he asks her out after she beats him in a cricket-eating contest at their local ironic hipster dive bar. Their first date turns into a week-long road trip to Texas, during which they get into a fight with a redneck, trade Woodrow’s tricked out car (complete with a whiskey dispenser in the dash) for a motorcycle, return to a raging party at Milly’s house, fight another guy and, finally, seal the deal with Aiden passed out a few feet away. Milly and Woodrow are balls out in love, but they’re clearly not headed for 2.5 kids in the suburbs.

Instead, the narrative beautifully smash-cuts straight to the end of the relationship, when, with just a few snippy exchanges, it’s clear that they have been living with deep-seated resentment for quite some time. Woodrow’s suspicions are confirmed when he walks in on Milly viciously fulfilling her first-date prediction that she would break his heart. Utterly distraught, Woodrow takes off on his motorcycle and soon, the rest of him is broken as well.

What happens next is as open to interpretation as it is horrifying. I don’t want to get into specifics but I doubt I could spoil the movie if I tried. Let’s just say that Aiden and Woodrow get their apocalypse, but it’s nothing like they, or you, could have imagined. I’m a recovering nail biter, and by the closing credits, I had fallen off the wagon pretty hard.

“Bellflower” isn’t just about the demise of young love. It also serves as shorthand for those kids currently experiencing early-adulthood limbo. They’re the Slacker Generation on alcoholic energy drinks. Their mechanical proficiency and eloquence suggest that they’re extremely gifted, if not formally educated. So what’s with the underachievement? There was probably never much hope for Milly. When I first saw her house, I actually thought she was a squatter. (Though, seeing as how she continuously stiffs her roommate on rent, she’s not far from it.) But with their skills, Woodrow and Aiden should be on “Mythbusters” instead of fucking around with blowtorches in between house parties. Perhaps it’s not entirely their fault. Assuming they did go to college, they graduated in the middle of a recession. Maybe they looked for work for a long time, but eventually gave up and got used to cashing their unemployment checks, draining their trust funds or however it is they procure their mad money. Yet, they share a few things with the preceding generation, like the continuous pop-culture laden dialog, the boozy escapades of misspent youth and doing things just for the irony and experience of it. I suppose you could call the film an updated “Reality Bites,” only without the adorably optimistic notion that, somehow, things will turn out all right.

The film doesn’t pull any punches from a technical standpoint, either. Joel Hodge’s cinematography lends a frenetic quality to the look of the film, and the omnipresent Hipstamatic filter often makes Bellflower Avenue resemble the wasteland that Aiden and Woodrow long to dominate.

Also noteworthy is Tyler Dawson’s performance as Woodrow’s fiercely loyal best friend, Aiden. Early on, it seems as though Aiden’s purpose is nothing more than comic relief. But when the shit hits the fan, his true character shines through, and Dawson handles it beautifully.

We can certainly credit some of “Bellflower’s” success to its basis in reality. Not only did Evan Glodell write, direct and star, he also built all the gadgets in the film, including the car and the camera used to capture it all. Normally, when someone spreads himself so thin on a film, some aspects will suffer for it. But Glodell doesn’t miss a beat. Perhaps it’s because the material is deeply personal. At a post-screening Q&A, Glodell confessed that he wrote “Bellflower” as purgation after ending a destructive relationship. That certainly explains the ultraviolence in the film. Let’s just hope the catharsis worked.

Originally published on FilmThreat.com. 

July 22, 2011
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment