Tyler Perry

Vice (2018)

Vice (2018)

(On DVD, December 2019) As a non-American US political junkie, Vice is my kind of movie: An exuberant, engaged, clever and uncompromising look at a contemporary political figure that makes no apologies for its critical viewpoint. Taking on the unusual life of Richard “Dick” Cheney from early struggles to the vice-presidency of the United States, Vice is a lot more than a standard biopic: Through various impressionist devices, it gets to discuss the decades-long machinations of the Republican Party in consolidating power for power’s sake, the perils of Unitary Executive Theory, the way Cheney masterminded his way through opportunities to get what he wanted, and his unrepentant assessment of his own life. Far from being a dry recitation of fact, it’s narrated by Cheney’s replacement heart and features several filmmaking stunts such as a hilarious end-credit fakeout, quasi-subliminal visual fishing metaphors, a satirical restaurant sequence offering political options “on the menu” during post-9/11 madness, a visible narrator, faux-Shakespearian dialogue, and focus-group commentary on the film itself. It’s been fascinating to see writer-director Adam McKay transform himself from a silly comedy director to an engaged, even ferocious filmmaker, and after the exceptional The Big Short, Vice feels as if he’s applying everything he’s ever learned to take on the biggest topic of all: political power. It certainly helps that the film is an actor’s showcase at nearly every turn: Christian Bale turns in a mesmerizing impression of Cheney, while Amy Adams is almost unrecognizable as his wife. Steve Carell makes for a surprisingly likable Donald Rumsfeld (wow, I just wrote that!), with several other actor/figure pairs along the line of Tyler Perry as Colin Powell. The impact is interesting: for one thing, the film is a treasure box of delights as Bush-era political junkies will be able to recognize real-world figures before they’re introduced by name. For another, it can be surprisingly humanizing: Despite their heartless agendas, both Cheney and Rumsfeld occasionally come across as sympathetic (I either didn’t know or forgot that Cheney had humble origins, while Rumsfeld comes across as self-aware and funny). I’m not so happy with the easy portrait of Bush as an amiable dunce with daddy issues—even in a film that prizes caricatures, it feels like a cheap shot and an underestimation of his abilities. (I suspect it’ll take a while before we get an accurate Bush portrayal.)  There are several nuggets for those who have followed political history closely—including an expected poke at the whole bizarre incident when Cheney shot a guy and got the guy to apologize for it. As a non-American viewer, the reaction to Vice was amusing to see—while the film got a much-deserved Best Picture nomination, it also got scathing reviews from the right-wing press and even some centrist outlets as well—almost as if people should be scared of a movie that dares make a political point, almost as if everyone had to tiptoe around Cheney’s political clout. I’ll be blunter: Bring out more movies like Vice. Americans need them.

Gone Girl (2014)

Gone Girl (2014)

(On Cable TV, August 2015) While I like director David Fincher’s first movies more than his last few ones (Seven, The Game and Fight Club are classics; The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo remake less so), the world at large seems to disagree, his stature having grown steadily since the beginning of his career.  With Gone Girl, though, it looks as if I’m re-joining the critical consensus: It’s a terrific thriller, unsentimental and merciless with a lot of depth along the way.  It starts innocently enough, as a man reports the suspicious disappearance of his wife.  As the plot unspools, twists appear.  Many twists, eventually leaving characters as aghast as viewers.  Saying more would be a disservice, except to praise both Ben Affleck and especially Rosamund Pike for performances that play off their existing persona (in Affleck’s case) or their lack of it (in Pike’s case).  Fincher directs the film with quasi-alien precision, which feels just about right when Gone Girl reveals itself to be an acid commentary on marriage.  A genre-aware script by Gillian Flynn (based on her own novel) makes Gone Girl a terrific thriller, but nearly everyone involved in the film bring their best work: In smaller roles, Tyler Perry delivers a memorable turn as a mesmerizing defense lawyer, while Carrie Coon transforms a small confidante role into something far more interesting.  Still, it’s director Fincher who remains the star of the show, effectively presenting his set-pieces with a lot of technical polish.  Gone Girl may not be a pleasant film, but it’s almost impossible to stop watching from its intriguing opening to its nightmarish conclusion.  It’s just not (really not) a date movie.

Alex Cross (2012)

Alex Cross (2012)

(On Cable TV, October 2013) Here’s a useful spoiler-filled tip for filmmakers: If you’re making a good movie, you can get away with murdering your protagonist’s pregnant wife midway through.  If all you’re making is derivative trash, then stay away from those kinds of stunts, because all you’re doing is pissing off the audience.  So it is that Alex Cross, which is a routine cop-versus-psycho thriller up to its halfway mark, goes one plot development too far and murders both a sympathetic bystander and all audience sympathy at one stroke.  It’s not putting the hero through personal grief; it’s purely exploitative cheap drama, and it’s easy to recognize as such.  Before that plot point, Alex Cross’ numerous problems are easy enough to overlook; after that, the film can do nothing right and becomes steadily more risible as it gets dumber and dumber.  Director Rob Cohen’s career as a technically-proficient filmmaker hit an apex of sorts in the early naughties with The Fast and the Furious, xXx and Stealth, but his decline since then has been fierce.  Here, occasional good moments of direction come at the expense of a dull film leading to a terrible final fight where even the camera shakes and slow-motion seem to have been added in sheer desperation during post-production.  The script is the usual genius-cop-versus-psycho-killer shtick we’re see so many times before, albeit with a psycho-killer-for-hire who seems intent on self-destructive decisions despite supposedly being at the top of his profession.  Straining to find something nice to say about the finished film, let’s at least recognize that Matthew Fox is physically remarkable -all sinews and muscles- as the antagonist, while Tyler Perry is occasionally effective as the eponymous lead –if nothing else, he also has a significant physical presence, and he fills out the frames.  Still, mentioning the other actors who show up only highlight how disappointing Alex Cross actually is: Edward Burns and Jean Reno quickly show up, but have almost nothing to do –Reno’s presence of the script even quickly highlights an overarching conspiracy plot that is frankly uninteresting to revisit after the antagonist makes the fight so personal.  Ah well; Alex Cross (sort-of-adapted from a patchwork of novels by thriller-factory James Patterson) isn’t meant to make sense as much as it’s supposed to re-launch a franchise.  In this regard, let’s hope that the dismal results keep all potential sequels at bay –we don’t need another series of pure-formula crime thrillers cluttering the screens.