Month: September 2016

Good Bye Lenin! (2003)

Good Bye Lenin! (2003)

(On DVD, September 2016) Describing the impact of the fall of the Soviet Union on East German seems like an impossible task, but Good Bye Lenin gives a clever high-concept to make it accessible: What if a son found it necessary to pretend to his frail mother, having recently emerged from a coma, that the Soviet empire never fell? What would it take to maintain such a deception, and how out-of-step would their reality be with the one outside the walls of their apartment? At time heartfelt and absurd, writer/director Wolfgang Becker’s film manages to portray the craziness of pivotal times and the heartbreak of good people trying to hold back change, at least in some limited way. Daniel Brühl (who has since become a well-known actor in Hollywood movies) shines as the protagonist building an ever-bigger lie on behalf of his mom. While the film isn’t entirely gripping from beginning to end (there’s a lot more than a big elaborate lie to the film, and Good Bye Lenin often loses energy in trying to sustain the most conventional parts of its story), there is a lot to like here, and it’s a fascinating everyday-life look at a very specific period of world history that often gets short thrift in history books beyond “the wall came down”. This is world cinema at its most accessible; charming, funny, dramatic and instructive at once.

Along Came Polly (2004)

Along Came Polly (2004)

(On TV, September 2016) There is little worth remembering about Along Came Polly, a wholly mediocre romantic comedy that deals limply with well-worn themes. Ben Stiller stars as an insurance analyst who gets to pick between two women (Debra Messing and Jennifer Aniston), weighing risks and betrayals in his decision. In other hands, this may have been better. But as shown on-screen, Along Came Polly struggles for laughs, barely tries for romance and suffers from Aniston’s charismatic blank. Stiller isn’t given much to do with a low-intensity take on his usual persona (although he gamely gets a great samba sequence), while Aniston is blander than beige in a character that’s supposed to incarnate risk itself. Bad casting choice—even swapping Messing and Aniston’s roles would have done wonders. The film’s problems, in a nutshell, can also be seen in Alec Baldwin’s wannabe-offensive boss character: He’s supposed to be off the wall, but the film can barely make him feel eccentric. Along Came Polly often goes for gross-out humour yet can’t even manage a yawn. And so it goes, with good actors wasted in dull turns (including Kevin Hart in a pre-stardom tertiary role) in a film that’s almost entirely generic.

White Chicks (2004)

White Chicks (2004)

(Netflix Streaming, September 2016) White Chicks is far from being the first movie in which what we see falls short of what the film wants us to see, but this cross-dressing comedy in which two black men impersonate two white women is notable for the chasm between visuals and screenplay. The two Wayans brothers (Shawn and Marlon) playing upper-society white girls do so under layers of top-notch makeup appliances, but the result is squarely inside the uncanny valley hideousness. We, as viewers, never believe. It’s a fair bet that the film itself never think we’re going to believe either, but the damage has been done by then. It certainly doesn’t help that all of this cross-dressing white-facing effort is in the service of a dead-simple script in which the criminal plotline is merely a clothesline on which to hang various comic set pieces. It’s not hard to dig into the film and come up with examples of social critique of gender and racial roles, but let’s be honest: This is a dumb comedy, not a piece of cutting satire. As such, it’s hit and miss: The film feels too long, with unwarranted cheap shots and lazy set pieces. The Wayans do OK as the leads, but they curiously get upstaged by Terry Crews, who manages to overcome repellent writing by sheer force of charisma: When his character is not written as offensive, Crews is downright charming. (Something that’s true of a surprising number of his early roles.) Otherwise, there isn’t much to say: White Chicks is comedy based on contrivances, not the least of them being the conceit that white-faced cross-dressers can pass as attractive upper-class young women. It only works with a generous amount of belief, which presupposes that viewers are willing to work with such a broad kind of comedy.

Elvis & Nixon (2016)

Elvis & Nixon (2016)

(Video on Demand, September 2016) This off-beat film is based on the famous photograph of Elvis Presley meeting Richard Nixon in the White House. While the real story of the picture is detailed elsewhere for your fascination, the film uses the real story as a springboard to explore the character of Elvis, Nixon and those surrounding them—obviously providing the best dramatic arcs to the supporting characters rather than the titular historic figures. Michael Shannon isn’t bad as late-period Elvis: paranoid, unstable, not entirely deluded yet still charismatic and loyal enough to be likable. Kevin Spacey is equally good as Nixon, although the film doesn’t focus on him as much. Compressing the timeline of the events to barely 24 hours gives some energy to the picture at the expense of credibility, but the screenwriter doesn’t waste time in using this charged schedule to develop characters. Elvis & Nixon is almost refreshing in that there isn’t much traditional conflict to the picture. Sure, White House advisors fret about whether they can convince their boss to meet with a genuine superstar, and our viewpoint protagonist wants to make it home to meet his girlfriend’s parents, but otherwise this is a film that is content just exploring facets of its premise and taking viewers by the hand rather than shove a spectacle in their face. There are far better portrayals of Nixon out there in the film universe (I’m still fond of the silly comedy Dick) and more convincing Elvis impersonators, but their union in the same film is special enough and treated reasonably well. Elvis & Nixon will never become a well-known success, nor will it play much once its initial Pay TV window is over. But it works reasonably well at what it tries to do, and it takes us along for the gentle ride.

Bicentennial Man (1999)

Bicentennial Man (1999)

(On DVD, September 2016) Before telling you what I really think about Bicentennial Man, I’ll just take a moment to appreciate what I do like about the film, even if it boils down to intentions. I like the idea of a classic Isaac Asimov story being adapted on the big screen. I certainly appreciate how the film tries to cover a two-century period in two short hours, and I can recognize the attempt at conveying some of that future history through background details. It’s the kind of thing that makes written science fiction so interesting, and it’s rare to see it even attempted on the big screen. This being said, none of those good intentions are enough to rescue Bicentennial Man from some condemnation. The ham-fisted script never misses an occasion to be dumb, sappy, obvious or nonsensical. The vision of the future is all about changing surface and simplistic attitudes, never taking an opportunity to tackle social change in a meaningful way, or escaping funny-clothes laziness. Robin Williams is here in full-blown nice-guy persona, wasting comic energy in a role seemingly built to be as dull as possible. While the film has aged badly in seventeen years (now that we have direct experience with the introduction of technology, the way Bicentennial Man deals with its robots feels worse than off), let’s not kid ourselves: it was pretty bad even in 1999. Laced with cheap sentimentality, flatly directed by Chris Columbus and hobbled by dumb story choices manifested by even dumber character decisions, this (in many ways) showcases how badly Hollywood mishandles Science-Fiction as a genre.

You, Me and Dupree (2006)

You, Me and Dupree (2006)

(On Cable TV, September 2016) I have accumulated some delays in reviewing movies, and now that I sit down to write about You, Me and Dupree, it hasn’t been more than two months since I’ve seen it and already crucial bits are gone from my memory. It’s definitely about a newly-married couple and Dupree, a hugely annoying friend of the groom. There are certainly many scene in which the new bride (Kate Hudson) is annoyed at the interloper (Owen Wilson) and how her husband (Matt Dillon) can’t seem bothered to drive him away. I can at least recall a scene in which the living room catches fire. Michael Douglas shows up as an imposing father-in-law to glower at our protagonist, and that’s bad for him. But then it predictably turns sad as Dupree is underlined as a colossal screw-up who has no friends and no home and ends up on a bench in the rain. But don’t worry! Dupree somehow redeems himself (or maybe it’s pity from the main characters—My memory doesn’t reach in that much detail) and it all chugs along to a happy ending. I don’t recall the film as being particularly bad or good, nor offensive or unpleasant. On the other hand, it’s not registering as particularly memorable either, and that’s its own issue. Perhaps more noteworthy now for being the first feature film for the Russo Brothers (who would then go on to help two well-received Captain America movies), You, Me and Dupree is the kind of wholly unremarkable comedies to emerge from the studio system in the 2000s. They’re not awful … but they can be a challenge to remember even a short while after the ending credits.

Before Sunset (2004)

Before Sunset (2004)

(On DVD, September 2016) I wasn’t quite expecting to like Before Sunset. On paper, it sounds like a snooze: two ex-lovers meeting again a few years later, walking around Paris and talking about their lives. Sounds dull, right? Add to that the added complication that it’s a sequel to a film (Before Sunrise) that I haven’t yet seen and I was firmly expecting to fidget through the entire movie. Much to my surprise, though, Before Sunset quickly becomes almost hypnotically compelling. As two characters talk about the profound and the mundane, often in uninterrupted long shots showcasing Paris, we’re drawn to the movie almost as eavesdroppers, wishing them the best even though “the best” may end up breaking existing relationships with others. Writer/director Richard Linklater has become the master of unusual small-scale dramas, and Before Sunset looks like a peak in his filmography, creating sharp interest out of elements that would be dull in other hands. Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy are fantastic in their roles and it makes perfect sense to learn that they’ve had some input in their dialogue. Utterly charming, uncommonly mature and compelling almost from beginning to end, Before Sunset is a beautiful anomaly, and the one main lesson I take away from it is that I must now see both Before Sunrise and Before Midnight.

Remember Me (2010)

Remember Me (2010)

(Netflix Streaming, September 2016) To be entirely honest, I started watching Remember Me knowing where it was headed, and was already predisposed to dismiss its manipulative ways. What I didn’t know is that the film doesn’t just end on a grand melodrama, but begins with one as well as the mother of one of the main characters is senselessly killed in the very first scene. It quickly gets worse, with the introduction of a mopey protagonist who spends his days moaning about his life without appreciating any of the privileges he’s given. With his dead brother, library job, quirky friend and New York City apartment, he practically checks off the grand list of insufferable protagonists. The tone thus having been set, Remember Me remains almost laughable throughout; an exercise is pushing melodrama to the breaking point where the only rational response is to dismiss the entire film as self-indulgent rubbish. Then there’s the climax, which seems overwrought even knowing what’s coming. Robert Pattinson didn’t exactly cover himself with anti-Twilight glory by starring into this film—his sullen persona is well executed but fundamentally irritating, and having more charming actors such as Pierce Brosnan run circles around him (even when nominally portrayed as antagonists) doesn’t help. I’m sure that there is an adoring public for the kind of cheap weepy drama that is Remember Me, but I’m not in that group.

The Virgin Suicides (1999)

The Virgin Suicides (1999)

(On DVD, September 2016) Director Sofia Coppola’s films have been hit-and-miss as far as I’m concerned, and The Virgin Suicides won’t settle anything in either direction. I’m certainly not the target audience for a film trying to make sense of the suicide of five sisters, often seen from the perspective of the male teenagers who almost worship them. It’s a film that delves into nostalgia (as narrated from a perspective years later, looking back on the seventies), plays in nuances, doesn’t offer a definitive conclusion and likes to spend time with its characters without necessarily advancing the plot. Dramatic ironies abound—such as when the boys plan a rescue and find out that their help is irrelevant. The subject matter makes it a sad movie, but its execution is perhaps not always as sad as you’d suppose it from the premise. Kirsten Dunst is very good as the oldest sister, while Kathleen Turner and James Woods also make an impression as the parents; perhaps inevitably, most other performers recede in the background of an ensemble cast. The Virgin Suicides certainly offers a change of pace from strongly plot-driven film, so it takes a leisurely frame of mind to appreciate the film in its subtleties. As with other Sofia Coppola movies, I can’t help thinking that there is something in there that I can’t reach.

Prisoner X (2016)

Prisoner X (2016)

(On Cable TV, September 2016) I don’t expect this low-budget Canadian Science Fiction film to escape obscurity, and that’s a shame—at a time when “low budget SF” is so often an excuse for trashy monster movie, Prisoner X serves up a thought-provoking political thriller with a time-travelling prisoner, a secret detention bunker, a worried president and threats of worldwide terrorism perpetrated by all-knowing agents from the future. Romano Orzari and Michelle Nolden star as, respectively, a dangerous agent from the future and a government operative asked to make sense of his actions. Set within a few isolated sets, Prisoner X does a lot with a limited budget. It starts with a decent script, adapted from Robert Reed’s Hugo-nominated short story “Truth”. Good directing by writer/director Gaurav Seth keeps the dread of the story’s atmosphere constant throughout. Prisoner X isn’t a fancy film or a particularly spectacular one, but it successfully reaches its objectives and bring another piece of credence to the idea that good idea-based SF doesn’t need much in terms of special effects or loud action. The film is a challenge to find on legitimate channels (limited availability as DVD and on a second-tier cable channel at the moment) but it’s worth tracking down by anyone interested in low-budget SF.

Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby (2006)

Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby (2006)

(On DVD, September 2016) “Will Ferrell as a NASCAR driver” is reportedly how Talladega Nights was green-lit, and it’s the only thing you really need to know about the film. Ferrell brings his usual man-child persona to the NASCAR world and the result is even with the other core movies of his filmography: expect dumb humour, at least one big freak-out, and plenty of juvenile gags. It works in its own manner: By firing so many jokes, Talladega Nights eventually lands a few, and it can coast a long time on the other actors propping up in the movie. John C. Reilly wasn’t known as a silly comedian at the time (Since then and films such as Walk Hard and Step-Brothers, that has changed), Amy Adams appears in a short but striking role, and Sacha Baron Cohen also brings the laughs as a French antithesis to Ferrell’s red-state persona. The film is passably quotable (even from its opening title card), and some of the raceway action is genuinely impressive in its own right. Talladega Nights, in other words, is no more and no less than what it promises to be, even if that may not be exactly what viewers want.

Trading Places (1983)

Trading Places (1983)

(On Cable TV, September 2016) In one way, I’ve been waiting more than twenty-five years to watch Trading Places,—spurred by an intriguing comment in High-School economics class that it was a movie that featured a stock-market crash. But watching it today, the one distinguishing characteristic of the film, and the one that ensures that it’s still relevant today, is the charged racial humour, as a street-smart hustler is set up as a patsy for a stock-brokering scheme. Eddie Murphy is very good as the hustler made respectable, with Dan Aykroyd as the naïf who becomes far more world-aware after being disgraced. Jamie Lee Curtis also shows up (sometimes naked) as a prostitute with a solid plan for her future. Trading Places is obviously a product of its time—the technical references are charmingly dated, the portrait of a wintry Chicago is pure period, the World Exchange Towers show up in an eerie cameo, and much of its financial shenanigans aren’t revelatory given a few more economic crises and the rise of the day trader. Still, the class-warfare component of the film remains just as pressing today, and the jokes still work pretty well despite a slightly slower pace and some strange plot loops toward the third quarter of the film. Watching Trading Places has been worth the wait, though—Seeing Murphy in top form is always a delight.

Kung Fu Panda 3 (2016)

Kung Fu Panda 3 (2016)

(In French, Video on-Demand, September 2016) I wish I had something insightful or interesting to say about Kung Fu Panda 3, but as it turns out the third instalment of this series doesn’t feel any different from the first two ones. Here, once again, we have our Panda hero getting a bit better, inspiring others and vanquishing a terrible danger. Fat jokes included. But I’ve never been able to warm up to the mildly annoying protagonist of the series, and I don’t find its central world building to be all that interesting. None are bad movies—they just don’t happen to catch my interest. Whatever nice things I have to say about Kung Fu Panda 3 aren’t particularly specific to the film itself: The animation is often beautiful (especially those set in the Spirit Realm), the individual gags often succeed and the pacing is fast enough that there isn’t much time to be bored. The kids will like it, and that’s pretty much the bottom line for any contemporary computer-animated films. I’m not particularly interested in a fourth instalment in the series, but I’ll probably watch it when it’s available. Sometimes I wonder if I should just wait until I’m in a better mood, watch the entire series back-to-back and see if my opinion of it improves.

Now You See Me 2 (2016)

Now You See Me 2 (2016)

(Video on-Demand, September 2016) I liked the first Now You See Me almost despite myself; acknowledging that the zippy pace, good cast and promising set pieces were often sabotaged by an unnecessary final twist, self-defeating CGI special effects and more energy than sense. Much of the same remains true about its sequel, except that Now You See Me 2 feels even less clever, less necessary and less energetic than the original. Oh, it’s certainly still fun to watch the exploits of magicians turned Robin-Hood outlaws, the various factions vying to control them and the clever set pieces that the likable protagonists have to navigate. Jesse Eisenberg is still remarkably fun as the alpha nerd, with able supporting turns by the dependable Morgan Freeman, Woody Harrelson, Mark Ruffalo and Michael Caine. Lizzy Caplan is new to the series, but makes enough of a good impression to shut down excessive complaints about Isla Fisher’s absence. The scope of the film is multi-continental, and director John M. Chu’s pacing is zippy enough. But if you want the film’s strengths and failures in a nutshell, contemplate the extended sequence in which members of the team flick and manipulate a crucial card so that guards don’t find it as they’re searched: On one level, it’s a dazzling one-shot filled with slick sleight-of-hand, audacious physical performances, great CGI and drummed-up tension. On another, though, it’s overblown, showy, overlong and almost completely superfluous once they get to their ultimate trick … which negates what they’ve just spent three minutes doing. So it goes with the rest of the script, which seems more interested in repeating by-now-predictable thrills in favour of anything approaching coherence. The final act is substantially duller than it should have been, and that’s largely because by this time in the series, we’ve figured out much of the way it works. As with the first film, Now You See Me 2’s conclusion comes with a big shrug. Surely there’s a way to use this series’ energy to more substantial use?

Money Monster (2016)

Money Monster (2016)

(Video on-Demand, September 2016) Given how I’ve been screeching about the disappearance of medium-budget Hollywood thrillers, I should at least take a moment to acknowledge the very existence of Money Monster, which not only provides two A-list actors with an original script, but also returns to the kind of contemporary issues-driven film that has also disappeared from the timid studio slates. Money Monster is about corporate malfeasance in financial matters, and the uneasy relationship between industry and the media. It’s also a bit of a cry against the exploitation of workers, but that’s easy to forget as the film moves into a thriller narrative in which a downtrodden worker takes a celebrity financial commentator hostage while live on the air. Cue the efforts of the show’s producer to try the resolve the situation without bloodshed … and maybe piece together the piece of a financial scandal along the way. Directed with some energy by Jodie Foster, Money Monster also turns out to be a mid-list showcase for the kind of role that George Clooney (as a borderline-sleazy TV pundit who learns better) and Julia Roberts (as a competent show producer) can do purely on the strength of their persona. As the complications pile up, Money Monster remains engrossing throughout—although there’s a temporary lull when the action moves outside the studio. Perhaps more interestingly, it ends up satisfying a scratch for almost exactly that kind of perfectly serviceable thriller, dabbling in social issues while showcasing good actors. (If you were wondering about how Money Monster existed, bet something on Foster’s ability to attract A-listers.) It may not be a film that will remain at the top of the year-best rankings, but it’s good, it’s entertaining, it’s got morals at the right place and it’s the kind of film I’d like to see more often.