Month: September 2016

Urge (2016)

Urge (2016)

(Video on-Demand, September 2016) I’d like to report that Urge is interesting at least in part, but sadly it’s a fractured film that’s not very good, even though the way it’s unpleasant in its first half is not the way it’s unpleasant in its second half. Congratulations are probably in order for a film that finds two ways to be bad rather than a single one, but that’s not exactly the kind of achievement that wins awards. Initially, Urge looks like a weekend among insufferable rich kids, taking over a beach house in order to go wild with unbridled excesses. Things get slightly more interesting during the second act, when a mysterious man (Pierce Brosnan, the sole saving grace of the film for the three scenes in which he appears) offers our character a hit of a new kind of drug. If you’ve seen any American movie about young people and drugs over the past three decades, you can guess what happens next: A wild night of fun, followed by a sobering return to reality. You can also guess what happens then: another night, another hit. But chances are that you will be only half-able to predict what happens then. Oh, it’s simple enough to figure out that the second hit won’t be as good. It’s not much of a stretch to anticipate that the drug-addled protagonist turn against each other in their stupor. But to go all the way from that starting point to a zombie invasion goes beyond any reasonable expectation, and the way this is handled (with lightbulb electrocutions, heads exploding under dropped weights and other ludicrous atrocities I’m not sure I want to remember) is ridiculous to the point of being exasperating. It really doesn’t help that there isn’t a likable character in the entire cast, or that whatever setup establishing the characters is ditched in favour of shocking gore. Even if Pierce Brosnan plays the devil offering hell-on-earth through ecstasy pills: who cares? If you want a zombie film, do a zombie film … but try to do that as a first act establishing plot device rather than a dull conclusion leading straight to something we’ve seen often enough already. There’s two minutes of generic zombies-in-a-supermarket stuff after the credits, but they really don’t add anything.

Timeline (2003)

Timeline (2003)

(On TV, September 2016) I’m mildly surprised that it took me thirteen years to get to Timeline. After all, it’s a science-fiction film, it’s based on a Michael Crichton novel … and it’s not as if I’ve gone out of my way to avoid either watch SF or reading Crichton. But the reviews at the time were bad, and I must have been focusing on something else (yeah, I now see it came out in November 2003—I was obsessively writing a novel that month) because here we are, watching it for the first time in 2016. Much to my surprise, Timeline isn’t as bad as the reviews then suggested. It is, in science-fiction terms, irremediably basic: the time-travelling mechanics are arbitrary, the treatment of temporal paradoxes is entry-level (with an air of astonishment betraying the author’s deliberate lack of SF sophistication) and the plot lines can be seen converging long in advance. And yet, it does offer a mildly satisfying package, a bit of a window into history (as inaccurate as Hollywood history can be) and a conclusion that ties everything together. Gerard Butler takes centre stage as a romantic scholar more at ease in the Middle Ages than in modern times, with notable performances by Paul Walker, Billy Connolly (as a scientist!) and Anna Friel. Veteran director Richard Donner isn’t particularly daring in his choices, but he keeps things running until the end. As far as the relationship between the film and the Crichton adaptation goes, the Hollywood version simplifies things remarkably, gets rid of troublesome ambiguities and notably loses the power of the opening chapter despite re-creating it almost verbatim. For seasoned science-fiction fans, Timeline’s use of time-travelling plot devices may be less interesting than seeing modern characters rediscovering medieval times, and witnessing an assault on a castle. While Timeline isn’t a great film (already, it feels half-forgotten), it’s decent enough to be worth a look through the end.

Dead Silence (2007)

Dead Silence (2007)

(On Cable TV, September 2016) Let’s be clear: Dead Silence is not a particularly good movie. Even as a horror film, it doesn’t reach high, contents itself with much of the usual claptrap of the genre and doesn’t leave much to ponder in terms of themes. After all: killer ventriloquist dolls? Oh, boy. But it does have a few things going for it: A slightly unusual structure in which revenge becomes a motivating driver; some very effective set design (that isolated theatre, in the middle of a lake … wow!), and a completely bonkers final twist that has to be seen to be believed. Screenwriter Leigh Whannell is on record as being dismissive of the result (there was, apparently, much studio interference), but director/collaborator James Wan does manage a few interesting things along the way—to a point where Dead Silence is a good choice for fans of his later movies such as the much-better The Conjuring. Again: It’s not good, but it certainly works well enough to warrant a look, especially if you’re expecting a merely mediocre horror film.

U Turn (1997)

U Turn (1997)

(In French, On TV, September 2016) There’s something unusual in seeing Oliver Stone delivering a small-town crime thriller like U-Turn: Stone usually takes on wider-scale topics, even in movies like Natural Born Killers where the crime spree is an excuse to talk about violence as a social phenomenon. Here, we’re down to a man (Sean Penn, not bad) unwillingly stuck in a small desert town and getting embroiled in the simmering madness of its inhabitants. Of course, this being a nineties Stone film, it’s quite unlike anyone else’s take on the same topic. Even as a small-scale dark crime comedy, it’s handled with multiple film stocks, quick cuts, impressionistic directing and a dream-like effect. It’s as if Stone reused the Natural Born Killers bag of tricks in service of a B-grade thriller just to see what would happen. As a result, U Turn may not be a classic, but sure holds our attention. It helps that there’s some terrific casting here. Billy Bob Thornton is menacing as a mechanic with uncommon power over our protagonist; Nick Nolte is imposing as a man willing to have his wife killed; Clare Danes and Joaquin Phoenix show up as a dangerous couple, while John Voigt pops up as a blind Indian beggar. But the film partially belongs to Jennifer Lopez, cranking up the heat as a femme fatale. (Being arguably miscast as a Native American doesn’t matter much given the craziness quotient of the film.) As a sunny noir thriller, U-Turn is wild, expressionistic, exploitative and overwhelming, but it’s never dull.

Iris (2014)

Iris (2014)

(Netflix Streaming, September 2016) The world is filled with wonderful eccentrics, and so Iris takes us in the world of Iris Apfel, a New York City woman with her own sense of taste who achieved fame late in life as an iconoclast fashion icon. Iris comes across as highly likable, old enough to name-drop depression-era references from personal experience and free to indulge in whatever fancies without fear of what other people would say. Handled by documentarian Albert Maysles (who died barely a year after the film’s release), Iris tackles Iris’ personal history, her relationship with her husband (also deceased shortly after the film’s release) and her incredulous ascension as a NYC fashion icon decades after retirement. Fashionistas will love some of the film’s quotes (there’s something about the point of parties being dressing up for the parties that’s both funny and true) and the celebrity cameos aren’t bad at all. Thanks to the elderly Maysles’s sympathetic eye, It’s also a portrait in aging more-or-less gracefully, facing obstacles, knowing that time is limited and making the most out of it. Have a look at Iris, even if you don’t necessarily know Iris yet.

Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989)

Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989)

(Second or third viewing, On TV, September 2016) Forgetting something isn’t usually a cause for joy, but forgetting enough of a great movie to make it possible to rediscover it as a great movie is an exception. So it is that I remembered enough of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade to remember that it was a good movie, but not enough to spoil the moment-to-moment joy of watching it again twenty years later. A far more decent follow-up to Raiders of the Lost Ark than the disappointing Temple of Doom, this Last Crusade quickly fires on all cylinders the moment Jones Senior (Sean Connery in one of his most enjoyable performances) shows up to rival Jones Junior. The interplay between Connery and Harrison Ford is terrific (especially when Alison Doody’s temptress character is involved), and confronting the Nazis in their backyard is a great way to heighten the stakes. Steven Spielberg is also remarkable in his action-adventure mode, cleverly building up suspense and working his audience like a fiddle—the tank sequence alone is a masterclass in how to build an action sequence. Faithfully taking up the thrill-a-minute rhythm of the serials that inspired the first film, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade is one of the good adventure movies of the eighties, and it still works remarkably well today. For best results, watch it soon after the first film.

Another Earth (2011)

Another Earth (2011)

(On TV, September 2016) I’m all for low-budget Science Fiction … but I like it best when it’s actually Science Fiction. For all of Another Earth’s nattering about the discovery of a parallel Earth on the other side of the Sun (shades of Journey to the Far Side of the Sun), the bulk of the film plays as a stripped-down low-budget drama about grief and guilt that has nothing to do with its central SF idea. The Science Fiction element truly comes in focus maybe ten seconds before then end of the film, exactly where most genre SF stories would really begin. Up until then, it would have been possible to tell more or less the same story using non-SF elements without really threatening the integrity of the story being told. This shying away from the implications of a big SF idea is frustrating—there’s a sense that the film stops when it should be starting. To be fair, this sense of missed opportunities is also obvious in writer/director Mike Cahill?’s subsequent I Origins, giving the impression of a filmmaker who works his way to an idea and then doesn’t know what to do with it. It’s even more frustrating given that much of Another Earth is effective as a low-key drama. Once you get past the limitations imposed by the low budget (including a muddy picture quality), there’s an effective story here about a guilty woman getting closer to the man whose life she has destroyed, and what happens when he discovers who she is and what she has done. Had the film followed that plot thread to a conclusion without bringing in the SF element, I would have been marginally happier with the results. Both Brit Marlin and William Mapother do well in the main roles, and the film does let its drama breathe even at a maddeningly slow pace. But as it stands, with its abrupt flip into SF moments before the end, Another Earth feels like half a film.

The Nice Guys (2016)

The Nice Guys (2016)

(Video on Demand, September 2016) Hollywood circa 2016 is not a good place for film such as The Nice Guys. Hollywood demands spectacles, special effects, media tie-ins and easily digestible entertainment—it’s not so fond of R-rated 1970s-set semi-realist crime/comedy hybrids with a snarky tone, expensive lead actors, and unconventional narrative beats. So it’s a bit amazing that The Nice Guys managed to get made and got good reviews … but not so amazing that it did poorly at the box office, making it unlikely that such movies will come back on Hollywood’s radar any time soon. Still, let’s appreciate what we’ve got: Russell Crowe and Ryan Gosling in fine form, forming an unlikely pair of investigators untangling a complex disappearance case against a backdrop of adult movies and industrial corruption. Writer/director Shane Black makes a great follow up to his previous Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, combining wit and narrative polish in the service of an enjoyable crime/comedy mix. It’s not necessarily conventional (by the end of the film, it’s an open question as to whether the two protagonists have actually accomplished anything) but it is enjoyable and off-beat enough. The atmosphere of 1977 is credibly re-created and Black’s typical wit shines through the snappy dialogue, absurd situations and off-beat story choices. The Nice Guys is worth tracking down, if only as a peek at what movies we could have had Hollywood not completely sold out to the megaplex paradigm.

Raiders of the Lost Ark aka Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)

Raiders of the Lost Ark aka Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)

(Third or fourth viewing, On TV, September 2016) What a movie! I probably saw it more than twice before I started keeping online reviews in 1997, but it had been so long that I almost rediscovered the film in watching it again. It hasn’t aged much: while some of the special effects now look charmingly quaint, the pacing, shot construction, acting performances and overall sense of fun remains timeless. Harrison Ford has one of his career-best roles here, and Karen Allen is simply fantastic as Marion. Steven Spielberg directs the film with uncanny precision, and much of the practical effects are still convincing today. The use of Nazis as antagonists is guilt-free, while the mystical overtones of the story perfectly complete it rather than confuse it. Even looking at the film through the now-familiar Protagonist Redundancy Paradox (i.e.; Does Indiana Jones actually change anything through his actions?) doesn’t take away any of the thrills of the results. I’ve been revisiting a number of classic movies lately, and most of the time the reassessment isn’t kind. But with Raiders of the Lost Ark, I’m just as thrilled now as I was when I first saw the movie as a kid. What a movie!

In the Heart of the Sea (2015)

In the Heart of the Sea (2015)

(On Cable TV, September 2016) On some level, I’m nonplussed by the decision not only to make In the Heart of the Sea, but to spin it in-story as “the inspiration for Moby Dick”. If you want to sink a blockbuster budget into showing the miseries of eighteenth century whale hunting, why not be entirely fictional, or squarely remake Moby Dick and throw in as much CGI into it? But no. This is the story of the Essex, which inspired Moby Dick, and it’s based on a nonfiction book. Rather than be faithful to an adaptation, the filmmakers now have to limit themselves to a patchwork of testimonials describing a true story, and wrap it in a framing device about Herman Melville gathering research material for his upcoming book. The result seems almost an oddity in today’s made-for-teens blockbuster landscape, with lavish production means spent on a subject that approaches irrelevance—despite a too-cute wink at today’s oil industry. Still, as far as modern technology allows for a credible re-creation of the eighteenth-century whaling industry and perils, In the Heart of the Sea certainly has its high points: Beyond the cramped shipboard living conditions and terrible storms, chasing whales takes on an extra edge when confronted with a cetacean antagonist seemingly intent of destroying our pesky human characters. Interpersonal conflicts eventually turn into a terrible story of survival at sea, by which time we better understand why the story is definitely not that of Moby Dick. Liam Hemsworth brings his usual easy charisma to the lead role. Director Ron Howard adds another good movie to his eclectic repertoire, even though In the Heart of the Sea definitely lacks the extra oomph of his better efforts—it’s no Rush, for instance. While the result may not fascinate anyone except those lucky few keenly interested in historical naval dramas, In the Heart of the Sea isn’t a bad movie. It just lacks whatever is needed for a truly satisfying experience.

Sharknado 4: The 4th Awakens (2016)

Sharknado 4: The 4th Awakens (2016)

(On TV, September 2016) I lasted longer than most, but with Sharknado 4: The 4th Awakens I’ve reached the end of the joke as far as the Sharknado series is concerned. This shouldn’t be much of a surprise: it’s in the nature of series to last as long as they don’t dip below a certain quality threshold, even if Sharknado’s said threshold was comfortably lower than most. Here, even the forgiving standards of the series aren’t even met, jumping from Las Vegas to Niagara Falls with plenty of dumb pit stops along the way. The plot’s incoherence seems worse than ever, the celebrity cameos are more intrusive (especially if you’re not a reality TV aficionado), and the low-budget aesthetics feel even cheaper than usual. (Take, for instance, the Gary Busey scenes, obviously filmed away from the rest of the cast even when they’re supposed to be in the same room!) The panache of the first film has degenerated into noisy “-nado” nonsense that the low budget can’t properly execute, and there’s very little joy left to the result. The dumbness has been pushed far enough to go from charm to irritation. Hopefully everyone involved in the series, including stalwart protagonist Ian Ziering, are seeing the writing on the wall as well and should quit. I won’t say “never ever again”, because I may be bored next summer with nothing but Sharknado 5 on the DVR, but making it through Sharknado 4: The 4th Awakens was annoying enough that I’m not exactly holding my breath until the next.

Where to Invade Next (2015)

Where to Invade Next (2015)

(On Cable TV, September 2016) Film essayist Michael Moore will forever be linked to his biggest success Fahrenheit 9/11, so it’s fair to wonder if he has peaked both in creative success and in influence. After a few strong years in which he delivered a string of films highly critical of the Bush administration, Moore seemingly retreated from high-profile filmmaking in the 2010s and Where to Invade Next is his first documentary in six years. It doesn’t feel like it’s breaking new ground: Annoyingly structured around the conceit of invading other countries to steal their ideas, the film seemingly reprises elements of Sicko and other films by showing Moore being amazed by how other countries manage to hold their own even when they’re not following the American template. (The most obvious suspects, such as Canada and the UK, are thankfully exempt from his invasions.) It doesn’t help that Moore’s faux-naif shtick blatantly cherry-picks and misrepresents what’s going on in other countries. (For instance, claiming a thirteenth pay for holidays when it’s really an artifact of being paid every four weeks rather than monthly: I wonder if Moore knows people who get paid—gasp—once every two weeks and what they can do with those extra two paychecks per year!) Still, grandstanding annoyances aside, Where to Invade Next is at its best when it manages to honestly show that the American model is imperfect, and that other perfectly workable ways to live exist. The last half of the film is more interesting in how it piles up the absurdities of American society and shows that it doesn’t have to be this way, that there are no natural laws dictating a lack of paid holidays, drug criminalization, harsh prisons, militarized police forces and business-focused education. By the time Moore shows how radical change can happen seemingly overnight, or how America’s best ideas are not necessarily welcome in America, Where to Invade Next has revitalized itself, away from disingenuous claims and toward a convincing argument to question the unacceptable flaws of American society. As for relevance, well: Moore may never be as vital to the national discourse as he was back in the Bush administration, but as long as American society has flaws, he’s going to be there pointing them out.

The Jungle Book (2016)

The Jungle Book (2016)

(In French, Video on-Demand, September 2016) Adapting Disney’s classic animated The Jungle Book to live-action cinema would have been impossible or underwhelming until recently. But, now that reality is infinitely malleable to big-budget Hollywood productions, it’s possible to film a ten-year-old boy running around in a downtown Los Angeles studio, then add everything else (jungle, animals, water, fire) in post-production. Billed as the most technologically advanced movie ever made, The Jungle Book is, behind the scenes, an incredible achievement. On-screen, it’s quite wonderful as well: While the film can never completely get rid of a slight uncanny-valley effect whenever protagonist Mowgli interacts with the rest of the environment, this jungle is luminous to a degree that would have been unachievable as live action. As a stealth animated movie, The Jungle Book is a joy to watch. Neel Sethi is pretty good for a ten-year-old kid asked to be at the centre of a massively complicated film, but the overall result is good enough that few will begrudge Disney for their nakedly mercenary program to remake much of their animated back catalogue. Story-wise, the film is a mixture of Kipling’s original stories and Disney’s own animated movie, although I’m wondering if the decision to keep Mowgli away from the human world by the end of the film has more to do with the possibility of a sequel rather than providing a definitive conclusion. The end-credit sequence is remarkably enjoyable. Watching the film in French does remove a few potential highlights of the original version, from the original voice acting to the two songs included in the film—I’ll try to revisit the film with its original soundtrack once it hits Netflix.

Commando (1985)

Commando (1985)

(On TV, September 2016) I had managed to avoid seeing Commando until now, and it strikes me that this is exactly the kind of movie they’re talking about when they’re talking about generic 1980s action movies. This is the archetypical one: eighties atmosphere, straightforward plot, ho-hum action sequences, a pre-prime Arnold Schwarzenegger (physically impressive, hugely charismatic but not yet comfortable as an actor or taking full advantage of his persona) and Regan-era politics—or whatever passes for them. This, I’ll hasten to clarify, doesn’t make Commando any good. In fact, it’s terrible in many ways: from the get-go, in which a father-daughter-bonding sequence seems to skirt self-parody, this is a film directed without grace or deeper ambition: It simply moves from one generic action sequence to the next without smoothing over the inanity of its plot points. Schwarzenegger’s acting is not good, the lovely Rae Dawn Chong is asked to deliver some rotten lines, Vernon Wells does the best he can in a ridiculous character … and so on. Clunky, naïve and unpolished, it’s a wonder why Commando has endured even today. But, of course, it has Schwarzenegger, a clever succession of chases and explosions, and just enough substance to matter even as other similar movies have disappeared in time. The pacing moves at a breakneck speed, to the point where it’s hard to begrudge anything to a film that wraps up neatly within 90 minutes. Commando is a template more than a film, but—wow—was it ever imitated afterwards. Consider it a lesson in whether it’s better to do something good or memorable.