2013
Unrated
103 minutes

***

It seems like a great number of adults forget what it was like to be a teenager. Maybe it’s because they somehow got out of that period unscathed. Maybe they’re suppressing some serious trauma. Perhaps the modern clothes and music that they don’t understand distract them into thinking “I was never like THAT.”

But they were. We all were. I haven’t forgotten. And as long as films continue to accurately depict the horror show that is high school, I don’t see how I ever could. There are films that romanticize it to some degree (e.g. “The Breakfast Club”) and films that fantasize about ways to survive it (e.g. “Heathers”). And then there’s Michel Gondry’s “The We and the I,” a flawed, but still chillingly accurate illustration of that hormonal war that drafts every single one of us on our way to becoming fully realized humans.

Gondry is a singular director who clearly wants to try everything. The one connection amongst his incredibly diverse body of work is that each film is unlike any other contribution to whatever genre it falls into. “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” was a reinvention of the romantic comedy. “Dave Chapelle’s Block Party” was a music documentary that focused more on the community that music creates than on the music itself. “The We and the I” is Gondry’s version of a John Hughes film. It’s partly scripted, partly non-fiction and wholly genuine.

It’s the last day of high school and the students enjoy a brief moment of free air before boarding a tinier version of the social prison they’ve been sentenced to for four years. The only thing that separates this city bus from a school bus is the (reluctant) presence of civilians. It’s enough to make a masturbating hobo (more prevalent on a public bus than you might think) seem quaint.

It’s not long before the scant grownup commuters, unable to ride in their preferred collective invisibility, evacuate the budding war zone. But there’s no escape for most of these kids. Not yet. They’re still trapped inside their awkward, ragingly hormonal bodies. The bus is a microcosm of their teenage social lives and it’s god-awful for every single one of them, from the lowliest nerd to the popular kids who reign over the rear seats.

For two years, Gondry worked with students at The Point, a community arts center in the South Bronx, to create these characters. Though Gondry drew up a twenty-page outline (along with Jeffrey Grimshaw and Paul Proch) to keep the narrative on track, the kids all play themselves. The final script was a collaboration of Gondry’s own recollections of youth and the true back-stories of these urban students, where there were numerous parallels. While there are certainly some striking differences between the socioeconomics of the South Bronx versus, say, a high school in France, Gondry doesn’t focus on any of that. Instead, he highlights the universality of being a teenager.

No one is safe. In the world of a teenager, there’s no such thing as personal property. Journals are snatched away, ridiculed and ripped up. Backpacks are thrown out the window. Clothes are ruined by pudding. A guitar is smashed, which is fine for the rock and roll star that can afford another, but a tragedy for a kid who probably toiled for months to buy that one. The fact that it’s the last day of school creates a more intense interaction between the students. For some, it’s the last time they will see each other and that makes them more honest and emotional. The kids turn on each other in an instant. They’re balls of Id banging together in a confined space. Not much happens, plot-wise. But somehow it’s simultaneously compelling and horrifying, like one of those abused farm animals videos that vegans like to make.

Of course, certain fabrications were necessary to achieve that level of “realness.” The actual bus ride doesn’t take nearly as long as the film’s 103-minute running time. Gondry employs his signature whimsy in flashbacks and YouTube videos that fill the audience in on the back-story. The prevalence of cell phones may date the film, but even before every teenager had one, they still managed to spread gossip like wildfire. No secret stayed secret very long.

Though the film takes place in modern day, Gondry got the idea from a memorable bus ride in 90s Paris, during which twenty or so students piled on at the same stop and exited slowly, with the dynamic changing after each departure. At that age, they’re only just learning how to be introspective and how important that skill is in interacting with others. They have to be separated from “the We” to become “the I.”

In order to survive high school, you have to either blend in, or defiantly stand out. There is no in between. It really does get better. But it’s not hard to see how escape can seem impossible. Teenagers are teenagers no matter their socioeconomic background. They’re vulnerable and cocky, selfish and casually cruel. They have yet to realize how their actions affect those around them, yet nearly everything that happens TO them, from getting invited to the right parties to sexual assault, carries the exact same (substantial) emotional weight.

The film can feel tedious when some of the less natural performers are on screen. It is also a bit repetitive at times, (especially with the use of Young M.C.’s “Bust a Move”) but that repetition also lends itself to a sort of rhythmic editing. Gondry cut his teeth on music videos after all.

Regardless of its problems, “The We and the I” is required viewing. It very well may be one of the most important films about teenagers ever made. It’s crucial that we grownups don’t forget our teenage years. If adults don’t show teenagers empathy, how are they ever going to learn it themselves?

Originally published on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

March 22, 2013
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

2013
Rated PG-13
130 minutes

**

No one has ever accused Sam Raimi of trying to be an auteur. The guy makes movies, not films. The bottom line is that he wants his audience to have fun. Raimi’s brand of fun usually involves a smartass anti-hero with a particular skill set that happens to come in handy for fighting evil. “Oz the Great and Powerful” is basically a PG version of “Army of Darkness” on mushrooms. Despite the presence of greatness (i.e. Michelle Williams and Rachel Weiss), it is not a great film. But it sure is fun, if you like that sort of thing (I do).

Part homage, part unauthorized prequel to Victor Fleming’s 1939 classic, “Oz the Great and Powerful” has some big shoes to fill. To further complicate matters, they couldn’t even use the shoes you would expect. Iconic images like the ruby slippers, the original Emerald City and even that particular shade of Wicked Witch green were off limits. They managed to work around these elements and still included tons of references. But the way they had to go about putting them in definitely gave the entire film a “red-headed step child” tone.

Though that didn’t seem to bother Sam Raimi much. He clearly had the time of his life making this movie. He pulls out all the Raimi-esque stops including swirling vortexes, sharp objects flying at the protagonist’s head, a preparing-for-battle montage, cackling demonic women and even Bruce Campbell. There are some genuinely comedic moments and some unintentional comedy as well. James Franco actually seems to be doing a Bruce Campbell impression in several scenes.

Like “The Wizard of Oz”, the story kicks off in a dusty black and white turn-of-the-(last)century Kansas. There, a sheister by the name of Oscar Diggs (“Oz” to his frenemies) runs a crooked carnival magic show with his put upon assistant (Zach Braff) and a parade of ditzy crowd plants. He’s also been sticking his wand where it doesn’t belong and must unexpectedly escape the wrath of a cuckolded strongman. His getaway transport of choice is (naturally) a hot air balloon that immediately gets swept up in a twister. Fortunately, it’s one of those supernatural porthole twisters that are so prevalent on the Kansas prairie. Suddenly, Oz finds himself in a full color, widescreen land that shares his name. Is it destiny, or an elaborate coma dream?

While we assume that Oz is a real place within the narrative, because of another Kansan who ends up there, the script drops numerous hints that this might all be in Oz’s head. For starters, the first person he meets is a good witch named Theodora (Mila Kunis) who is as naïve as she is beautiful. She wastes no time telling him that he fits the bill for a prophesy about a powerful wizard savior. After defeating the wicked witch, this wizard would rule the land with the hot townie of his choice and do laps in a gold-filled pit that would make Scrooge McDuck jealous.

So confident are the locals in Oz’s abilities that their faith remains in tact even after he tells them that he is probably unqualified for the job. Along the way, he meets other characters who suspiciously recall people from his former life: Finley, a flying monkey who looks and sounds like Zach Braff (much less irritating in simian form), a busted-up China doll named Little China Girl (heh) who resembles a crippled girl from his final carnival audience and Glinda the Good Witch who bares the spitting image of his sweetheart who got away. In fact, the last thing he said to her real-world counterpart was “See you in my dreams”.

Whether these allusions are red herrings or just sloppy screenwriting doesn’t really matter because at least 50% of the enjoyment is in the 3D experience. It’s certainly one of the greatest uses of 3D ever. So much of the picture is in 3D that it continues to feel like it’s taking place inside a diorama long after the paper cutout opening credits. It’s not so much a movie as it is a ride at Disney Land. We are in that hot air balloon with James Franco. We are ballroom dancing with James Franco. We are riding inside a bubble over a poppy field with James Franco. That is some cool shit. But it’s not sustainable beyond a theatrical release. Once you’re sitting on your couch watching a flat image, you’ll no longer be distracted by butterflies fluttering past your head and enormous flowers blooming all around you. You’ll have to pay attention to the plot and the dialog. The spell will be broken.

That’s not to say there’s nothing left to enjoy. But that monkey’s jokes will grate a whole lot more. Those endless blooming flowers will become tedious. Mila Kunis’ god-awful acting will really stand out. That said one of the biggest laughs for me was when Theodora flips out in a mirror, screaming hysterically at her reflection for what feels like five minutes. It was like an outtake from “Black Swan”. If Kunis displayed that level of camp in the rest of her scenes, her performance wouldn’t have paled so much in comparison to the flawless Rachel Weiss as Evanora, Theodora’s sinister sister that coaxes her to the dark side.

Kunis suffers from the same affliction that plagues the likes of Drew Barrymore and Keanu Reeves. She just can’t shake that California accent. (Worse yet, she lacks their innate likability.) Things would have been vastly improved with Kunis in the bland Glinda the Good Witch role, having little more to do than float around gracefully and offer words of encouragement. Michelle Williams possesses the necessary versatility to convincingly transition from innocent to evil. But she was utterly squandered for no discernible reason other than the color of her hair. Hair color can be altered, people. Bad performances cannot.

James Franco isn’t entirely in the clear either. Even with all of his Franco charm, he just can’t pull off the necessary fast-talking suaveness that a truly effective con man requires, nor does his redemption seem entirely genuine. It’s not the worst performance in the world, but it is, at times, glaringly lacking.

One place where casting excelled was with the background actors. There are some of the most amazing extras in this movie. There are at least five hams in every crowd scene. So while the lack of 3D will majorly detract from the overall quality, the extras bump the re-watch factor back up a bit.

The people who will enjoy this movie the most are fans of “Army of Darkness”, kids who aren’t easily frightened, Steampunk families and stoners. Everyone else will likely walk away unsatisfied. Although, as I was exiting the theater, some dudes behind me were discussing all the dirty things they would like to do to Mila Kunis, despite having hated the movie. So I guess people with Mila Kunis boners might also wish to apply.

Originally published on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

March 8, 2013
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

2013
Rated R
106 minutes

**

After a quarter century of film directing, Steven Soderbergh’s has chosen “Side Effects” as his alleged theatrical swan song. Teaming up once again with screenwriter Scott Z. Burns (“Contagion,” “The Informant!”), he shot and edited the film himself under assumed names. With that pedigree and level of control, I would surmise that Soderbergh made exactly the film he wanted to make. That’s why I’m so puzzled by the tonal shift that occurs right in the middle of what seemed to be a biting yet candid exploration of the anti-depressant industry. There’s giving your audience twists and turns and then there’s pulling the rug out from under them. At the end of the day, it’s Soderbergh’s prerogative. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

To be fair, the film’s opening is a sign of things to come. After an uncomfortably long wide shot that eventually zooms into an apartment window and finally finds a set of bloody footprints, I can’t say he didn’t warn me. But the film immediately jumps back in time three months to a story that is certainly dramatic, but not conspicuously noirish. Our protagonist is Emily Taylor (Rooney Mara, “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo”), a frail, beguiling girl who puts on a happy face to welcome her husband home on the day of his release from prison. Martin (Channing Tatum) served four years for insider trading and his little mistake cost his family the lush life to which they had become accustomed.

Emily’s crippling depression, instigated by her husband’s arrest, but probably exacerbated by a chemical imbalance, sours their happy reunion. After all, someone in their right mind wouldn’t intentionally drive their car directly into a wall. Having miraculously survived the accident with only a couple of bruises, Emily convinces the hospital shrink, Dr. Banks (Jude Law) that it was just a momentary loss of control and not likely to happen again. He lets her go under the condition that she visits him twice a week and agrees to start a course of anti-depressants.

Emily tries the gamut of available drugs, but experiences crippling side effects with each one. Finally, several influential parties convince Dr. Banks to prescribe a new drug called Ablixa, and everything turns around for Emily. But Ablixa does cause one, very inconvenient side effect: Sleep walking. It starts with preparing midnight snacks and ends with the aforementioned bloody footprints. She always awakes with no memory of what she did while asleep. So how can she be held responsible for something a drug made her do?

Here is the possibility for a compelling courtroom drama that examines every aspect of the anti-depressant industry. And for a while the film seems to be heading in that direction, introducing the perspective of the patients, the doctors and the pharmaceutical companies. It poses several difficult questions: Is tricking our brain into being happy really the best course of action? How much does the medical community really care about what happens to their patients? How can one mistake based on improper research ruin so many lives and careers while the companies that release the drug always emerge unscathed?

Dr. Banks experiences a brief existential crisis because he really believed in the drugs. He relies on them not only in his own practice but in his personal life as well. So when the drugs fail, his belief system fails. He can’t accept the idea that his entire philosophy might be wrong and that he could actually be responsible for some very bad things. Now that’s an interesting film.

But that’s not the film we get. Quite suddenly, “Side Effects” becomes a psychological thriller. Someone is lying! It might be the beautiful, but troubled girl who was taking the drugs (I wouldn’t normally consider the character’s appearance were it not actually mentioned as a motivation in the film). Or is it the career-driven psychiatrist who prescribed them? Or maybe it’s the sexy former doctor of the troubled girl who vouched for the drug? Dr. Victoria Seibert (Catherine Zeta-Jones) sports black thick frames on her glasses with her hair in a tight bun while her constantly parted lips hint that the glasses could come off and the hair could tumble down around her shoulders at any minute (probably while her button-up shirt tears open in the heat of passion). In retrospect, Dr. Siebert is total foreshadowing for the film we end up with.

It’s difficult to get into detail about everything that goes wrong with “Side Effects” without massive spoilers. But trust me when I tell you that the mid-stream re-direction is jarring and disappointing if you were enjoying the story you thought Soderbergh was telling. The Emily of the first half is a riveting character. Lots of other actresses have portrayed depression and some have won awards for it. But those performances are generally over the top. Those women celebrate their crazy. Emily is trying desperately to get a hold of her depression. To fix herself so that she can get back to living her life. This is the more common face of depression than the one usually represented on celluloid. Mara’s performance never disappoints, but her character certainly does.

I won’t spoil whom she turns out to be, but I will say that it is nothing new in cinema and it’s not terribly flattering to women in general. Granted Soderbergh rarely lets any of his characters off the hook. He doesn’t seem to have a very high opinion of humanity on the whole.

But he sure does love a twist. The story gleefully doles them out with rapid succession in the second half, making the plot and characters more convoluted, but less complex. I guess the biggest twist is that the film started out being something I liked and ended up being something I didn’t.

Originally published on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

February 8, 2013
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

2013
Rated PG-13
97 minutes

**

Let’s face it: Zombies are wearing out their welcome. I’ve been a fan of the genre since childhood, but of late, I’ve needed more than just the presence of the shuffling, flesh-munching undead to enjoy a story. It also has to have a plot and meaningful dialog. The characters need to do things that make sense within the confines of their established universe. It needs to do something different.

I started watching “Warm Bodies” with a modicum of optimism. Nicholas Hoult (“About a Boy,” “Skins” [UK]), who plays the lovelorn undead poster boy, is a versatile young actor. The premise is intriguing and moderately original (aside from the human/monster star-crossed lovers aspect). But they didn’t execute it well. It wouldn’t have taken all that much. Just a few tweaks here and there. Maybe give the human characters some personality so they’re distinguishable from the zombies in ways apart from their melanin levels. An overhaul of the ending (and the foreshadowing thereof) wouldn’t hurt either, as its saccharine triteness cheapens the good stuff that came before it.

The film, written and directed by Jonathan Levine (“The Wackness,” “50/50”), comes from Isaac Marion’s popular YA novel. The opening scenes hint at a depth of character and narrative insight that, sadly, dissipates once the love story kicks in. Hoult plays R, a hoodied hipster zombie who spends his down time shuffling around his airport dwelling with other lost souls. His ennui-filled voice-over introduces the audience to the particulars of this post-apocalyptic universe as well as his struggles to find a meaningful place in it. He laments the amnesia that has pushed him into an existential crisis of sorts (“Who am I?…Why can’t I connect with people?”).

Though his thought process remains in tact, his speech function is reduced to groans and the occasional word, phrase or clause. I love the idea of an Emo kid trapped inside the body of an instinct-driven predator. But the story betrays its own originality by eventually succumbing to romantic tropes. Every step it takes toward that end pulls it further away from the seed of brilliance from whence it came.

R isn’t completely unique amongst his peers. He has found a kindred spirit in M (played by an outstanding Rob Corddry). The pals groan at one another over empty cocktail glasses at the airport bar. Occasionally, they organize field trips into the city in the hopes of bumping into humans who have dared to venture beyond their steel walls in search of supplies.

R’s heart literally skips when he first sees Julie (Teresa Palmer), their eyes locking across a crowded bloodbath. After chowing down on her boyfriend and pocketing the leftover brains, he is compelled not only to spare her life, but also to convince her to come back to his place under the guise of protection. She goes without protest partly because she’s stunned by his mercy but probably also because, even for a dead guy, he’s pretty easy on the eyes.

After a couple of days spent listening to records (“Better…ssssound”, he grunts pretentiously) and trying on sunglasses, R starts to change. This is partly due to the absorption of memories and emotions (but just the romantic ones and in chronological order) that occurs when a zombie consumes a human brain. R’s warm and fuzzy feelings for Julie are amplified by his secret snacking on boyfriend leftovers. But his increased speech abilities and sudden repossession of physical senses have more to do with burgeoning forbidden love than zombie superpowers. Not only is it shoddy writing to default to the notion that love conquers all, even death. It also devalues R’s remarkable conscientiousness as a morally conflicted zombie. Julie can’t love R until he changes who and what he is. What an affirmative message for young people!

The strained zombie dialog that increases in verbosity as the film wears on also feels a lot like cheating. This story could have been so much more emotionally resonant if the actors had to…I don’t know…act to convey their thoughts. (See the “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” episode, “Hush” for an example on how to further a plot without dialog. In it, none of the characters could speak.) There are so many instances in which R could have used gestures, props (his airplane hipster pad is full of them) and facial expressions to communicate. I’m sure they still have Charades in the not-too-distant alternate future. Worse yet, much of what he says is exposition and often redundant. At least he never mentions anything about a Dark Passenger.

Contradictions and contrivances abound. Characters have instantaneous changes of heart, including M who takes about 5 seconds between scream-arguing that Julie is food to accepting her as part of the gang. R makes a joke about zombies being slow and then a couple of scenes later he and Julie must outrun them. Julie never seems all that broken up about the death of her boyfriend even after she learns that R was behind it. I guess they should get props for not using the “that was before I knew the real you!” plot device. But it still seems pretty convenient. Julie’s father, General “Pinot” Grigio (John Malkovich) is a narrow-minded, overprotective hardass. Yet, he doesn’t think twice about sending his only child into Zombieland on a “Pharmasalvage” mission. R is generally unwieldy but his motor skills are fine-tuned when the situation calls for it.

The situation calls for it during the war against the Bonies, a common enemy of both human and zombie. Bonies are zombies who have eaten their own flesh, thus stripping themselves of all humanity. Cool concept, right? Too bad they borrowed their skeleton effects from “Army of Darkness.”

It makes for an interesting story when the characters face seemingly insurmountable obstacles. You can still have a happy ending when those obstacles still exist but the characters have figured out a way to deal with them. “Warm Bodies” could have been the anti-“Twilight.” Instead, it’s just reanimated tripe.

Originally published on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

February 1, 2013
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

Each of Film Threat’s writers made their own picks for their favorite movies of 2012. Here is my list:

I had a hard time getting to the movies this year. I feel like I saw more bad films than good, though that is probably par for the course. There are several films that might have made the list, only I haven’t seen them. Among them are Moonrise Kingdom, Argo, The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, This Is 40, and Seven Psychopaths. Of the films I did manage to catch, these are the ones I liked best:

Wonder Women! The Untold History of American Superheroines
Great documentary about the woeful lack of female superheroes in popular media and the impact that has female genre fans.

Read the other lists at Film Threat.

December 31, 2012
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

2012
Rated R
110 minutes

**

Remember back in the late nineteen hundred and nineties when two handsome boys from Bahston arrived on the scene and wowed everyone with an original screenplay about a socially challenged blue-collar genius also from Bahston? And then afterward, everyone debated which of the two handsome Bahstonites was the most talented? And remember how, for a long time, all signs pointed to it being the blond one?

These days, I’m starting to believe we had it all wrong. Ben Affleck is still not a great actor, but somewhere along the way he became a good one. He also became a great writer and director, while Matt Damon plateaued. Now it seems that Damon is on a gently sloping downward trajectory; first with the treacle-laden “We Bought a Zoo” and now the face-slap of a morality tale that is “Promised Land.”

Now before you go accusing me of having no heart, I should tell you that I love both Matt Damon (usually) and the environment. Furthermore, I hate greedy capitalist behemoths that want to exploit simple farm folk and rape the land (grrrr). But that doesn’t mean I have to like a mediocre film about a greedy capitalist behemoth that wants to exploit simple farm folk and rape the land. “Promised Land” is an insulting delivery system for what would otherwise be a very valuable social message about the dying American Heartland.

The credits read like fantasy indie film draft picks: Directed by Gus Van Sant. Screenplay by Matt Damon and John Krasinski based on a story by Dave Eggers. Starring Damon, Krasinski and Frances McDormand with Rosemarie Dewitt thrown in just cuz a man can’t have true redemption unless a beautiful woman decides to love him. Damon plays career spin-doctor Steve Butler, a salesman for Global Crosspower Solutions (a name as ominous as it is vague). Global (Mr. Crosspower Solutions was its father’s name) seeks to buy drilling rights for America’s farmland in order to access the lucrative natural gas that lies beneath. Steve would be (and is) the first to tell you that he’s not a bad guy. He’s just a simple farm boy himself, hailing from a small Iowa town financially ruined after their primary industry (a Caterpillar plant) went under. He wants to make sure that doesn’t happen to any other small towns. He wants so badly to help, that he’s willing to sink to incredible depths of self-delusion in order to justify his job (emphasis on the word “incredible”). For a slick corporate shill, he’s more a rube than the local yokels he’s trying to swindle.

And that’s the point. In case you missed it (which you couldn’t possibly), Steve has been buying his own bullshit for too long. So much so that he completely crumbles whenever anyone challenges him. The writers borrow liberally from the plot of “Doc Hollywood” to deliver their messages about the dangers of corporate greed in general and fracking in particular. They assert that these are gray area issues, whilst drenching everything in black and white.

Presumably, Steve has brought his show to small towns all across the country. Yet somehow, the town of McKinley, PA is the first one to give him any trouble. His method of looking and talking like one of them is normally foolproof. But once a grizzled old science teacher (Hal Holbrook) calls him out on the dangers of fracking, Steve, along with his cynical partner, Sue (McDormand) must embark on a door-to-door campaign to win the town’s people back before the issue is put to a vote. An environmental activist named Dustin (Krasinski) poses additional challenges as he both literally and figuratively cock blocks Steve’s efforts.

It’s not all bad news. A talented cast acts its way around the ham-handed script. Krasinski is so believable in his role that it’s tempting to shout, “No! I don’t have a minute for the environment” at him whenever he’s on screen. McDormand uses her extremely expressive face to add complexity to her hard-nosed business lady character. Sadly, Rosemary Dewitt couldn’t save her character from Blandville, as she didn’t have much to work with. As a sweet schoolteacher named Alice, her character is perfectly content playing a pawn in the pissing contest between Steve and Dustin. One gets the distinct impression that Alice really doesn’t care with whom she ends up and she never seems to have much of an opinion about anything.

Damon saves most of the meat for his own character. He’s not too shabby playing a man who resists having his bubble burst even as the pin is puncturing the surface. That’s one thing they got right. People don’t usually have life-changing revelations over night. It takes time and lots of people telling you that you’re wrong before you start to believe it. Some will even take their skewed world views to their graves. Of course, we know that won’t happen here.

As a Commie liberal, it pains me to find so much fault with “Promised Land.” Those boys have a lot of good ideas and I know they mean well. Perhaps they’ve seen too many Hollywood Schmaltzfests to understand how to get their point across subtly. Furthermore, they don’t seem to have ever met any actual women because they have no idea how to write them. If you see only one film this year by a handsome actor from Bahston, make it “Argo.”

Originally published on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

December 28, 2012
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

2012
PG-13
157 minutes

***

If you aren’t already a fan of the Broadway smash about the misérable population of 19th century France, the film adaptation is not likely to win you over. It’s not bad when judged within the realm of its contemporaries (e.g. anything Andrew Lloyd Weber put his name on). But the story is, as my husband put it, preposterous. There is no way director Tom Hooper (“The King’s Speech”) could have fixed it without pissing off devotees. Instead, he produced an extremely reverent version of an often-laughable epic.

Based on the 1862 novel by Victor Hugo, the musical was written in French in 1980 and then adapted by some English guys in 1985. Despite poor critical reception, it became one of the longest running Broadway musicals of all time. The plot of “Les Misérables” is pretty convoluted and will probably sound outrageous to the uninitiated. But here it is in an enormous nutshell:

Jean Valjean (Hugh Jackman) is a freshly paroled prisoner concluding a 19-year sentence for stealing a loaf of bread. A particularly unwavering officer, Javert (Russell Crowe), doesn’t believe in rehabilitation and makes re-incarcerating Valjean his life’s mission.

Eight years later, Valjean has broken parole and reinvented himself as the good-hearted Mayor of a small town. He feels responsible for the fate of single mother/forced prostitute Fantine (Anne Hathaway), and rescues her daughter, Cosette, from a pair of abusive, flamboyant innkeepers (Helena Bonham-Carter and Sacha Baron Cohen).

Later still, Valjean and Cosette (now played by the doe-eyed Amanda Seyfried) have settled in Paris, where a group of dreamy, floppy-haired students are planning an uprising against the tyrannical monarchy. One of these students, Marius (Eddie Redmayne), happens to spot Cosette across a crowded, poverty-stricken square, and the two fall madly in love without having spoken a single goddamned word to each other. Regardless of the silly love business, the second half of “Les Misérables” is where everything gets exciting, as the rebels sing politics and plan their attack. Meanwhile, Javert and Valjean play cat and mouse and Cosette’s unsavory former guardians conspicuously attempt to grift everyone within spitting distance.

Hooper made several audacious decisions in an effort to capture the energy of a live performance. Though Hooper’s sets are much more elaborate than a stage production, they still exude theatrical artifice. He also instructed his actors to sing live on set, in lieu of the standard, yet restrictive use of lip-syncing. His most striking choice was to film his soloists in extreme close-up, bringing his audience face-to-face with the actors. They occasionally break the fourth wall, defying not only convention but also those audience members who might have otherwise tuned out. It’s pretty hard to ignore Hugh Jackman when his tractor-beam eyes are pulling you straight into the abyss of his nostrils. Hooper’s methods are sometimes jarring, but because of their surreal nature, they help to sell the singing dialog as well as some of the more absurd plot points.

Hands down, the best part of “Les Misérables” is the singing. Sacre bleu! Here, Hooper went for veracity, having his actors shed real tears, their voices quivering and occasionally even screaming the lyrics. His choice stands in stark contrast against the typical pitch-perfect stage performance. It serves to emotionally elevate songs that might otherwise feel contrived. Anne Hathaway steals the show by a mile with her rendition of “I Dreamed a Dream” (the song that made Susan Boyle a household name). The adorable rebels are also fantastic and clearly know their way around a musical. A theater veteran, Hugh Jackman is competent with his songliloquies, but through no fault of his own, they do go on. And on… And on… Russell Crowe is capable enough, belting out the thoughts of a blindly moral asshole. Compared to the talent of his colleagues, however, he might as well be doing karaoke. Besides, no matter how well he performs in anything, I just hate Russell Crowe’s stupid face. This is an issue all my own.

Hooper gives his singers even more emotional resonance by uglying them up. The down-and-out French population is grotesque to the point of zombification, and the scenery so filthy, you can practically smell it through the celluloid. In extreme close-up, the normally flawless Hathaway is all blemishes and grime. During Valjean’s lean years, Hugh Jackman looks so homeless that you want to put a blanket around his shoulders and give him a mug of hot cocoa. Though they may be little more than Oscar ploys, they work.

The weakest link is Seyfried who didn’t get the memo about Hooper’s aesthetic. It’s not entirely her fault. Grown-up Cosette is bland as can be and nothing more than a pretty little plot device. Bonham-Carter and (as much as it pains me to say it) Baron Cohen also massively taint the scenery. I know this isn’t just me, because when Bonham-Carter first appeared on screen, looking like a (somehow) campier cross between Marla from “Fight Club” and Bellatrix Lestrange, the audience burst into giggles before she even opened her mouth. Baron Cohen goes balls out (not literally, in this case) with the physical comedy, channeling Peter Sellers in “The Pink Panther”. Clearly, these characters are intended for comic relief. But their shtick feels entirely out of place, as if they jammed a number from “Annie” right in the middle of this extremely melodramatic historical opera.

Regardless of its flaws, “Les Misérables” remains entertaining throughout its 157 minute run time. If you don’t usually enjoy musicals, this will be no exception, but devoted fans will surely yum it right up. If you dig musical theater at all, it’s worth a viewing just to see Anne Hathaway pwn what will undoubtedly be an award-winning role. “South Park” fans might also enjoy some of the revolutionary plot, if only to see where Trey Parker got his inspiration for “La Resistance”.

Originally published on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

December 25, 2012
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

2012
PG-13
149 minutes

****

There was a time when politics were exciting and meaningful, rather than combative and depressing. We made up our own country, for shit’s sake! Granted, we did it on land that wasn’t ours…

Regardless, we rebelled against our oppressive motherland and started over from scratch. Since we didn’t want to fuck it up, we agreed on a list of rules. We created a system designed to give everyone a voice and an infrastructure of checks and balances to keep ourselves from regressing. We fought and died for the rights of those who wanted to be part of our union. But somehow, we lost touch with our goal. We became exclusive and we were pretty terrible to the people we didn’t want in our club. In a way, when the 13th amendment passed, it was a renewal of vows for the Constitution. It was a footnote that said, “You know all those rights and self-evident truths we were just talking about? They should apply to everyone.”

Steven Spielberg’s latest epic, “Lincoln,” is a beautiful portrait of one of this country’s greatest leaders during the most important part of his life. The film’s tone is optimistic whilst still acknowledging the faults of men. Somehow, it manages to add suspense to a tale we already know by heart. Best of all, it’s celebratory of our nation without being jingoistic. I wish we could have elected this movie as the next President of the United States of America.

Some would argue that not much has changed, hence the phrase, “Politics as usual.” But it’s not every day Congress ratifies an amendment, particularly one that ends a war that has split the country in two. Despite the all-encompassing title, “Lincoln” only covers the last four months of the 16th president’s career and life, which revolved around the resolution of the Civil War and the ratification of the 13th Amendment. But we don’t need to see the rest of his life to understand Abraham Lincoln’s true quality. Daniel Day Lewis fully embodies the prominent image. His Lincoln is soft-spoken, gentle and cunning.

He needs to pass his proposed amendment through Congress before the war ends because it will be much harder to do once the Confederacy is allowed to resume federal representation. Meanwhile, he receives pressure from all sides to end the war by any means necessary and “stop the bleeding,” even if it means putting off the vote. Since it is the very morality of the 13th amendment that is under contention, Lincoln uses his lawyer cunning to come up with “practical” reasons to abolish slavery. (I found this aspect of the film particularly amusing because I took history class in Virginia, where they did their best to sweep all that nasty racism under the rug. I can’t tell you how many times I had to answer the question, “Name two motivations for the Civil War other than slavery,” on a test.)

The film opens with a brutal combat scene in which men die under great anguish, but that is the only time we visit an active battleground. I prefer Spielberg when he deals with war from a distance. There have been enough films to show us what being in the shit is like. Here, we spend most of our time with the men who put them there, peppering the story with just enough carnage to remind us that people died over this heated debate between old white men.

I would be shocked if “Lincoln” didn’t dominate this year’s Academy Award nominations. Normally, I would hate a movie that the Academy will so clearly embrace. This film had every opportunity to be a giant schmaltz fest, and it took the high road at nearly every turn. Only a handful of times did I feel that I was being played for emotional response (watch yourself, John Williams). The rest of the time, my emotional responses were 100% genuine.

It didn’t hurt that many of the grand speeches given were the real words uttered by those most eloquent history-makers. The tight script by Tony Kushner (“Angels in America,” “Munich”), is based in part on the biography, “Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln” by Doris Kearns Goodwin. As you might expect, they play all the hits. Sometimes famous speeches can sound hackneyed, but if you get the right person reciting, it will be as fresh and stirring as the day it was first uttered. Tommy Lee Jones, who plays the grizzled “radical Republican” with the biggest emotional investment in the amendment, seems poised to receive a standing ovation after nearly every scene. If “Lincoln” had been performed on stage, he probably would have.

That is not the only way in which “Lincoln” evokes the Bard. I’m sure the costumes are authentic, but those wigs, ruffled ascots, and extravagant facial hair seem, at times, a little over-the-top. There is also comedic buffoonery, as performed by three lobbyists (John Hawkes, Tim Blake Nelson and James Spader) Lincoln employs to secure votes from the opposing party; There is an overbearing wife (Sally Field), driven mad with grief; And, of course, there is a tragic hero. The events depicted are so significant, the characters so iconic, that it is impossible to get lost in the story without constantly being reminded that you are watching history.

Nonetheless, the film’s only real weak moments are when it deals with Lincoln’s private life. Lincoln’s oldest son, Robert (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), wants to enlist in the Union army despite his parents’ wishes. Abe and Mary fight over the correct way to be sad about the death of their middle child. Field delivers her lines with histrionic, movie-of-the-week fervor. These subplots feel superfluous, and perhaps they should. After all, it’s his political work that made Abraham Lincoln such a symbol of true American values.

Though you can, at times, see the seams around his eyes, Day-Lewis’ face is so accurately transformed that it may as well be a C.G. overlay of the actual president’s head. Day-Lewis plays Lincoln as a complex man who keeps his demons at bay for the good of the country. He is a raconteur who chooses his words carefully as if he knows that everything he utters will be recorded for posterity. And that’s in keeping with the spirit of the nation, because every decision that our government makes affects each of its citizens individually. He’s a hero who is just doing what he knows is the right thing to do. He’s an idol, but he’s also accessible because we all have the potential to be that heroic. In the words of the film, it’s a “democracy to aspire to.”

Originally published on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

November 9, 2012
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment

2012
Unrated
101 minutes

****

Some long-term relationships seem perfectly stable until the end, when they suddenly aren’t anymore, and others are tumultuous from the get-go. Ira Sachs’ mostly autobiographical film, “Keep the Lights On,” chronicles the nine-year span of a gay New York-based documentary filmmaker and his challenging, but unwavering, commitment to a crack-addicted lawyer. The catharsis oozes off the screen in this unflinching, but affectionate, portrait of a man and his junkie.

Sachs’ proxy is Erik (Thure Lindhardt), a struggling Danish filmmaker. His passion project is a documentary about underground queer artist Avery Willard, who produced erotic queer images from the 1940s through the ‘70s. While he struggles through production, he whiles away his nights on a phone sex line, which often leads to casual encounters. (This is how they did it before Craigslist, kids.) One such encounter leads to love when he meets Paul (Zachary Booth).

At first, Paul tells him not to get his hopes up, because he has a girlfriend. But their attraction is undeniable, and soon the girlfriend is a non-issue. Early on, Paul introduces Erik to the joys of recreational crack. It’s not long before it becomes more than just a hobby for Paul.

Every so often, the narrative jumps forward in time, as Paul disappears on benders. If Erik isn’t busy doing filmmaker stuff, he makes time with prostitutes to help keep his mind off of his absent boyfriend. Through it all, Erik’s devotion to Paul is unwavering. There are interventions and ultimatums, splits and reunions, but the two always end up back together. It’s not exactly an abusive relationship – Erik can take care of himself. But his heart belongs to a man whose devotions are equally split between his boyfriend and crack pipe.

The film is shot on super 16, which lends the images simultaneous warmth and isolating frigidity, mirroring a relationship whose temperature is constantly in flux. Sachs does an excellent job establishing a time and place without the need for telltale skylines or period-specific props. Many of the scenes were shot in the exact same spots that the real-life version of events occurred. Even without this knowledge, the candor is unmistakable. These conversations and scenarios are too painful to be fiction.

At one point, Erik finds Paul on a bender in a filthy loft and refuses to leave without him. Erik holds Paul’s hand as the man he loves has cracked-out sex with a prostitute. He knows he can’t make Paul stop his destructive behavior, but he can’t bear to leave him to it. It’s a powerful scene that also serves as shorthand for their entire relationship. Even if they can’t be together the way Erik wants, he can’t let Paul fall all the way into the abyss. It’s more painful for him to let go than to stay with a man who refuses to stop hurting both of them. This is the stuff of 18th century poetry. It’s literally Romantic.

“Keep the Lights On” is heavy stuff indeed – the antithesis of “The Notebook.” It’s bona fide, messy, heart-wrenching pain. Sachs clearly went to a lot of trouble to tell this story, essentially emptying his soul into the film. The least you can do is listen.

Originally published on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

September 8, 2012
Categories: Filmpinions . Tags: filmthreat . Author: Baxter . Comments: Leave a comment