Movie Review

  • The Way Way Back (2013)

    The Way Way Back (2013)

    (Netflix Streaming, December 2016) A while ago, I started suspecting that I was seeing a too-limited selection of movies, and started letting my viewing being influenced by popularity lists as an opportunity to look at genres I’d normally avoid. And while I may roll my eyes at Adam Sandler comedies, weepy romantic dramas, gory horror and other movies on those lists, there’s one category that has consistently outperformed my expectations: Coming-of-age drama-comedies. From The Fault in Our Stars to Sing Street to Paper Town to The Way Way Back, I’m discovering authors such as John Green, investigating the early movies of rising stars and finding much to like in the results. The Way Way Back has a few passing similarities to films such as Adventureland, featuring a socially marginalized teen finding guidance and companionship on a summer job. Liam James is featureless but likable as the lead character, but it’s the supporting actors who often shine more brightly: Sam Rockwell is particularly good as a man-child compelled to mentor our hero, while Steve Carell plays an unusually detestable role as an antagonistic, philandering would-be father-in-law. A few familiar faces also show up in minor roles, from Maya Rudolph to Rob Corddry and Amanda Peet. The portrait of a small seaside town and its attendant water park is warm and sympathetic, fitting almost perfectly with the script’s goals. While the story is familiar and the beats are predictable, The Way Way Back is satisfying for all the right reasons. It may not set the world on fire, but it’s a sure-fire choice for a quiet evening. It may be about today’s teenagers, but the extemporal setting will ensure that the themes will resonate with a wide group.

  • Unfaithful (2002)

    Unfaithful (2002)

    (On TV, December 2016) I probably shouldn’t have watched Fatal Attraction a few days before Unfaithful, because the comparison isn’t kind to this film (even despite them sharing the same director). In some ways, this gender-flipped story of adultery does uphold some old-fashioned morals of deception and revenge. Alas, it does so at length, never settling for a quick cut when a long sustained shot will do. Diane Lane is rather good as the married woman deciding to indulge in a bit of adultery, and the casting of the two male actors is amusing: Choosing a side of Olivier Martinez over a main course of Richard Gere is the kind of thing that underscores the wish fulfillment of Hollywood movies. There is, as is usual for erotic thrillers, a bit of heat in the initial couplings … although this quickly cools down once the erotic part is done and the thriller part begins. By the time the husband character semi-accidentally kills the adulterer, the plot has simultaneously started and ended at once: the rest of the movie is guilty thumb-twiddling until the end. It doesn’t make for a satisfying film—there’s little to offset the unintentional hilarity of some sequences. It’s also far too long for its thin plot, but so it goes. There may be a clash between Unfaithful’s aspirations as an infidelity drama, and the way it veers into a murder thriller in its third act—the finale kills the questions left by its first act, which itself is far too slow for a thriller. No matter what or why, Unfaithful doesn’t make much of a case for itself—it’s not that bad a choice if you really, really like either or all of the three leads, but it doesn’t quite cohere into something satisfying.

  • Scrooged (1988)

    Scrooged (1988)

    (Second or third viewing, On TV, December 2016) There have been countless takes on Dickens’ A Christmas Story, but Scrooged is still my favourite. A blend of cynicism and hard-won sappiness, Scrooged’s darker sense of humour, backed up with Bill Murray’s unique style, makes it a fantastic holiday viewing. Its depiction of an amoral modern age is still very much on target even twenty—no—thirty years later, while its struggle to reconcile itself with a happier view of Christmas seem more deserved than most. (On the other hand, I’m not sure that its lead protagonist will be as open-hearted two days later, but that may be part of the point.) Bill Murray anchors the picture, but there are good supporting performances by Bobcat Goldthwait and a hilarious Carol Kane as a slap-happy Ghost of Christmas Present. I get that the movie divided audiences and reviewers upon release, but you’ll never be able to convince me that it’s not a Christmas classic. If anything, I’ll bet that it plays far better in today’s ironic age than it did upon first release.

  • Fatal Attraction (1987)

    Fatal Attraction (1987)

    (On TV, December 2016) Both hilarious and a bit terrifying, Fatal Attraction’s story of adultery gone horribly wrong still rings as a cautionary tale thirty years later. Peak-era Michael Douglas stars as a lawyer who starts an affair with a dangerously obsessive woman (Glenn Close, more scary than sexy even in lingerie) and nearly loses everything in the process. The rather endearing term “bunny boiler” comes from this film, along with a substantial amount of reactionary emotions. Is it an anti-feminism tale, or the kind of story that men tell themselves in order to keep themselves in check? Who knows—what’s for sure is that this is as pure an erotic thriller as Hollywood was capable of turning out back then (I don’t think it can do anything like this any more)—the early sex scenes definitely have some heat to them, and the latter suspense moments do get ridiculously intense. With time, the lines that the movie draws for itself become blurry—a modern take would probably empathize more with Close’s characters. But, of course, such a modern take would quickly fade away—the point of Fatal Attraction’s enduring popularity is that it is extreme and black-and-white and scary and cautionary. Otherwise, why bother … and shouldn’t Hollwyood take note of that?

  • Rain Man (1988)

    Rain Man (1988)

    (Second Viewing, On TV, December 2016) Movies that age well usually manage to have timeless themes while being set at a precise time and place. So it is that Rain Man still manages to be endearing, largely because it tackles a difficult subject honestly while definitely remains a product of the mid-eighties. Tom Cruise and Dustin Hoffman truly star as the mismatched brothers at the heart of the story: The film would be a much lesser piece of work without Cruise’s yuppie chic and Hoffman’s now-iconic mannerisms. The transformation of the film into a road movie is good for a few chuckles, but it also literalizes a long journey of self-discovery for the lead character. Obvious stuff, but capably executed. Where Rain Man doesn’t work so well any more is in its uniqueness and its treatment of autism: At a time when TV shows are dominated by high-functioning autists being presented as superheroes (and I say this as a confirmed fan of both Sherlock and Elementary), the grab bag of idiot savant mannerisms being presented as typical markers of autists is disingenuous—most severely autistic people are nowhere near as charismatic or skillful as Hoffman’s character … but that’s Hollywood for you. Thirty years later, Rain Man remains a joy to watch, and a striking film in part due to its willingness to give the most reasonable ending to everyone involved.

  • Oculus (2013)

    Oculus (2013)

    (Netflix Streaming, December 2016) At the risk of spoiling Oculus, I want to talk about the horror movie default narrative. Horror, as a genre, is not one where we can expect the happy ending. Horror does not offer such predictable comforts, but at the same time it has come to formalize the bad ending so thoroughly that it has lost its element of surprise. All things being now equal, the bad ending has little advantage over the happy ending. In fact, the bad ending (in which the threat wins, kills and endures) is far more annoying than the happy one in that it often negates the struggles described by the film—going against an all-powerful evil force, your default assumption is that you’re going to lose. If that’s what happens, then why tell the story? There are fewer ways to annoy an audience than to tell them that their sympathies are for naught, and I fear that this is what happens in Oculus, a feeling more than reinforced by the incredibly sympathetic Karen Gillian in the lead role. Oculus’s central premise is good (an evil mirror that clouds minds and demands sacrifice) but the film’s secret weapon is Gillian: from her first redheaded swinging-ponytail appearance, Gillian makes the most of an interesting character torn between sibling love and all-out thirst for vengeance for the mirror taking away her parents. The way she anticipates the mirror’s defence mechanisms and prepares countermeasures is good for a few good moments, but complications arise when her brother enters the picture. Much of the film is split between current-day efforts to investigate (or destroy) the mirror, with flashbacks showing what happened years before when the two siblings were kids. It’s cleanly shot and nicely edited, but there are a few lulls in the action and the ending is more repellent than I’d like. In retrospect, this marks an important step in writer/director Mike Flanagan’s progression, from the intriguing but fatally low-budget Absentia, to the slick roller-coaster ride of Hush. Oculus is flawed and frustrating, but it’s halfway decent, and I suspect that other people may react much better to the ending.

  • Mei ren yu [The Mermaid] (2016)

    Mei ren yu [The Mermaid] (2016)

    (On Cable TV, December 2016) I tried. I was willing. I was well-disposed, having seen and enjoyed writer/director’s Stephen Chow previous Shaolin Soccer (good!) and Kung Fu Hustle (classic!). But it didn’t take much time for The Mermaid to exceed by limits for weirdness, and then keep going. Crude, gross, unfunny and borderline repellent are good ways to start describing The Mermaid, and I’m being kind. I don’t think that the language and cultural differences can explain my negative reaction to the movie when those differences inherent in a modern Chinese comedy are often the things I liked best about the film. I think that The Mermaid is consciously aiming at a different comic sensibility. The message about environmentalism is great, but it’s undercut by comedy that works through embarrassment, self-mutilation and outright grossness. There are a few chuckles (there’s a good attempted-assassination sequence at some point) but nowhere near as much as I was expecting from Stephen Chow. What a disappointment.

  • Locke (2013)

    Locke (2013)

    (Netflix Streaming, December 2016) As an avowed fan of high-concept movies, I couldn’t be happier with Locke’s central conceit, which is to follow a man in near-real time as he drives from Birmingham to London, holding a series of increasingly dramatic phone conversations along the way. Everything blows up as he drops everything on an important construction job to be present at a birth. The baby is his but the mother isn’t his wife and as increasingly frantic phone calls take place, what we’re seeing here is a rebirth narrative—someone clinging to one last redemption. Tom Hardy is very, very good as the only person whose face we see in the film, holding the wheel and working his car’s top-of-the-line electronics during a nighttime drive. The amazing thing about Locke is that its gimmick has an effect on tone. While the story could be a radio play if it tried (The camera never leaves the car in-between beginning and end, although there is a noticeable overhead shot midway through), the visuals of driving down a highway at night means that there are always lights moving on-screen. The impact is profound: transforming, through sheer kinetics, a drama into what feels like a thriller given constant motion. There are definitely risks in making the film’s protagonist such a borderline unlikable character. Abandoning a major construction work site on the eve of a major concrete pour is not rational behaviour, and neither is blowing up a marriage through phone calls. It gets worse as we dig into the reasons for the drive: a one-night stand with a lonely woman (and not a particularly likable one from the script we’re given) leading to a pregnancy. It’s nearly a miracle that audience hang in there long enough to get a glimpse at the father issues of the protagonist. Writer/director Steven Knight is a genius for thinking of the concept and for keeping it going as long as he can (and making us learn far more than we’d ever imagine about concrete pouring). You can add Locke to the list of great one-location movies. At a snappy 82 minutes, it’s not perfect … but it’s really good and it makes the most of limited means.

  • Apt Pupil (1998)

    Apt Pupil (1998)

    (In French, On TV, December 2016) Stephen King’s Different Seasons novella collection was originally meant as a way to publishing four non-supernatural stories that King couldn’t sell, but it has ended up being the source material for three of King’s best movie adaptations. After Stand by Me and The Shawshank Redemption, here is Apt Pupil, which tells the dark story of a budding fascist teenager discovering an ex-Nazi living in his city. Things get worse when the two start jockeying for power over one another, eventually getting locked into a mutual destruction pact. Contrasting the sunny California setting with the darkest secrets within, director Bryan Singer doesn’t try to be subtle and the result is a fair thriller that allows a good actor’s duel between Brad Renfro and Ian McKellen, who’s particularly good here. The suspense set-pieces are well handled, and the film ends on a far more unnerving note than you’d expect … despite one or two big coincidences precipitating the third act. A solid thriller, Apt Pupil hasn’t aged a lot since 1998 despite ex-Nazis dying in droves since then.

  • Youth (2015)

    Youth (2015)

    (Netflix Streaming, December 2016) I’m not normally a fan of elliptic artistic films driven less by plot than by contemplation of deep themes, but there is something about Youth that makes the experience entertaining, even gripping at times. Benefiting from the acting talents of Michael Caine and Harvey Keitel as veteran creators struggling with the accumulated weight of their lives, Youth ponders issues of life and death, loops into vignettes that have little to do with the plot, veers into dream sequences, and discusses the pitfalls of the creative process and fame. It is alternatively grandiose, pretentious, intimate, funny, surreal, tragic and oblique. On paper, it sounds like a terrible mishmash of everything that the writer/director Paolo Sorrentino has thought about in making the film. And yet it works. I’m not sure why. The humour helps a lot, of course, and the way the film uses Madalina Diana Ghenea’s assets gleefully feels like exploitation. But there’s also a suspicion that Youth talks about life in a blunt way, using experiences that most of us will never have (being solicited for knighthood, being unable to secure a famed actress for our newest screenplay, even resting a few weeks in a five-star hotel in the Alps) to talk spectacularly about universal issues. The quality of the images, as incongruous as they can be, also contributes to a renewed interest in the film. No matter why, Youth does succeed at creating a memorable viewing experience. Not bad for a film that many, including myself, would have thrown dismissively in the “made for Cannes” bin.

  • Air America (1990)

    Air America (1990)

    (Second Viewing, In French, On TV, December 2016) There are two different movies within Air America, both of them clamouring for attention in various ways. The first film is an exciting buddy comedy portraying the insanity of pilots during the Vietnam war, using their planes as trucks to go from one place to another doing side deals on their own or on behalf of their shadowy masters. It’s a movie with terrific aerial stunts (the best of which is a Los Angeles-set highway confrontation between a helicopter and an 18-wheeler) that combine airplanes and explosions to good effect. Unfortunately, the second film is a far more conventional tale of a drug-running conspiracy being revealed and defeated, men learning better and criticizing the excesses of war. That second film ultimately overwhelms the first with a foregone everyone-is-a-hero conclusion that can be seen coming from miles away. The tension between the two is never resolved, and if Air America does retrospectively stand as an early example of the geo-sardonic subgenre that would become one of the default Hollywood modes of grappling with geopolitical issues (from Lord of War and The Hunting Party to, more recently, Whiskey Tango Foxtrot or War Dogs), it clearly doesn’t quite know how to dose the two parts of its execution. At least Mel Gibson and Robert Downey Jr (looking far too young) are in fine form as the two mismatched partners, and the pre-CGI aerial stunts do have a kick to them.

  • WarGames (1983)

    WarGames (1983)

    (Second viewing, On TV, December 2016) I haven’t seen WarGames in over twenty years, although it feels as if that scene in Ernest Cline’s geek-fest novel Ready Player One nearly counts as a re-watch. I’m mentioning the novel because, in many ways, reviewing WarGames in the far future of 2016 clearly shows it to be an epochal film in terms of technological anxiety. Nowadays, a hacker causing a military incident would be a premise for a mildly dull thriller, “ripped from the headlines”, as they say. It certainly was ahead of its time: WarGames anticipates geek-chic through its brainy but clueless hero, clearly shows a primitive form of Internet normalization and correctly taps into an ever-more-relevant issue of pranks having far-reaching consequences ( … and that’s how you elected your newest president, America.) Matthew Broderick makes for an unusual hero, while Ally Sheedy plays a generic role well enough. While the film isn’t always clear on the tone it wants to use (there’s a notably darker sequence near the two-third mark), it does find its way in the third act, and works rather well in the end. WarGames definitely has aged, but it has become a curiously fascinating period piece. A must see for any technology buff, it’s undeniably one of the roots of today’s Internet culture.

  • Moana (2016)

    Moana (2016)

    (In French, In Theatres, December 2016) I’m sure that Dinsey Animation Studios aren’t infallible, but their hot post-Bolt streak isn’t ending with Moana, a terrific new entry in their Princess series. Taking on Polynesian mythology as a starting point, Moana follows a standard template that allows for a hero’s journey, vivid characters, picaresque adventures, musical numbers, comedy, empowerment and spectacular visuals. The quality of the animation is easily the best in the business, and the songs are terrific as well. (I’ll acknowledge that “How Far I’ll go” is positioned to be the Oscar-nominated one that everybody loves, but I’ll take the bouncy “You’re Welcome” and “Shiny” over it … in fact, I haven’t stopped listening to both of them in the week since watching the film.) Moana herself is a terrific heroine, self-reliant and sympathetic at once. While I watched the film in French, I could help but recognize two Dwayne Johnson visual tics (The eyebrow and the pec pops) in the character he voices in English. Moana is an effortlessly charming film, and it plays like a future classic Disney movie even on a first viewing. We’ll see in a few months whether it survives a twentieth viewing in the span of two weeks.

  • Ghostbusters II (1989)

    Ghostbusters II (1989)

    (Second viewing, On TV, December 2016) I’ve seen Ghostbusters II so long ago that I’m not sure that what I remembered was from the movie or the videogame. (I definitely remembered the soundtrack, though.) That, in itself, is a pretty good capsule summary of a relatively forgettable sequel. Bits of Ghostbusters II are bad; others are uninspired; others are competent. Some are all three, such as the idea of the Ghostbusters being discredited frauds—it’s patent nonsense after the events of the first film, but it does lead to a few good jokes here and there. The sequel cheerfully takes place five years after the fact and confronts how its characters have moved on (or not). There are a few choice gags here and there, and the basic idea of New York being overrun by slime that feeds on negative emotions is rich in possibilities—and while Vigo makes for a poor antagonist, the use of the Statue of Liberty is inspired. The courtroom scene also works well. As for the actors, it’s a mixed bag: Bill Murray is close to self-parody while the rest of the cast is more or less up to their usual tricks. The special effects are … not good by today’s standards (the subway sequence is notably subpar), and many of them don’t even have the quaint charm of the original: There’s a lot to be said about atmosphere in boosting the impact of special effects, or at least the viewers’ indulgence in suspending their disbelief. Ghostbusters II amounts to a serviceable sequel, one that does feel as if it’s coming from the same place as the original, but not one that equals the standards set by the first film.

  • Midnight Special (2016)

    Midnight Special (2016)

    (On Cable TV, December 2016) There’s an interesting dichotomy at play in Midnight Special that’s likely to make Science Fiction fans as happy as it’s bound to infuriate them. Writer/director Jeff Nichols made a name for himself in crafting intimate character-driven dramas such as Take Shelter and Mud. But in tacking explicit science-fictional themes in Midnight Special, Nichols may have exceeded his capabilities. The good news are that his character-driven approach is still very much showcased here. He has an uncanny ability to portray the small details of his story and characters in an immediately compelling and credible way. On a moment-to-moment basis, Midnight Special is compelling for its quasi-tactile ability to portray reality. The small beats of the film are grounded to a phenomenal level, and it doesn’t take much for him to sketch his characters and make their adventures feel real. The opening sequence is immediately gripping, and there’s a fascinating moment later on when we see the result of a car chase rather than the chase itself. There are some serious skills on display here, and I would certainly like more directors (especially SF directors) to take notes on how to ground their concepts into believable real-world details. The way he uses his actors is also fascinating: Michael Shannon is magnetic as the lead character, a father trying to protect his son with special psychic powers. Kirsten Dunst shows up briefly in a lived-in role as a suburban mom, while Adam Driver gets an unusually sympathetic role as a scientist trying to understand what’s going on. But for all of the good that one can say about Midnight Special in five-minute increments, it’s a building disappointment to find out that the small moments and good sequences don’t build to anything particularly compelling. Answers are withheld, not all of the Weird Stuff is pulled together in a coherent whole, and the ending seems to peter out before the answers that it promised. There are some spectacular moments in Midnight Special, and some of them even include a terrific sense-of-wonder sequence at the climax of the film. But they don’t add up to something as good as its individual components, and that’s where Nichols’ lack of understanding of Science-Fiction as a genre shows up most clearly. Too bad, because Midnight Special is great in ways that don’t often have to do with SF.