This was my first Tyler Perry movie. Since it did not include Madea among its characters I thought it would be less over the top than his other films and plays. If it was, I didn't notice.
The plots were predictable; the characters unrealistic; the humor contrived or non-existent.
The film starts with four separate couples heading off to meet for an annual get together. This year, they've chosen a snow resort for their reunion. Within the first five minutes of the movie, as Sheila, an overweight woman (Jill Scott), is forced to leave the plane (shades of Kevin Smith's adventure on Southwest Airlines), while her derisive husband stays on board with his lover, you already know how their story will end. Writer Perry doesn't seem to understand that increasing the husband's cruelty towards her doesn't enhance our compassion. It only makes you question the couples' friends who haven apparently been witnessing the husband's verbal abuse since they all went to college together --which was at least 15 years ago. Mike is not merely a bad husband. He's a sadistic person. Many women let themselves be victimized by ogres. The lower their self-esteem, the more they tolerate -- so the degree of Sheila's subjection is not the unbelievable part of the story. What's unbelievable is that 6 of her (supposedly) caring, intelligent and wealthy friends would stand by and watch what she endures, with no more than worried look on their faces.
Once they learned that Sheila's husband Mike happily let her drive through a snowstorm alone, while he flew to the group's "couple's retreat" with his mistress, they should have kicked him out of of the cabin --and their lives-- immediately. Instead, the strongest reaction is from Angela, the resident loud mouth, who satisfies herself with insulting Mike's mistress with age old "whore" jokes, while no one in the party discusses the very real danger that Sheila might be facing on the road alone. They should be organizing a search party, not sitting around their cabin discussing their various marital problems.
The characters who aren't too loud, too weak, too stupid (Angela's husband who has contracted an STD and doesn't want to tell her) and too passive are too . . . too! Janet Jackson (who looks older than the rest of the cast, even though they are all playing college buddies) plays Patty, a therapist and lecturer who has chronicled the group's annual meetings in a best-selling book. She dispenses advice in a patient, earnest manner that is more textbook counselor than human. In this film, even quiet earnestness is overblown. The good characters are two dimensional prototypes, while the raucous ones are slapstick stereotypes.
The dialogue is full of exposition, offering details that are so straightforward that we would have guessed them based on other movies, even if they had never been explained with childlike obviousness in this one.
The movie peaks when everyone's so-called secrets are exposed at a group dinner. A vengeful Mike rats everyone else out, when his own poorly concealed affair is revealed. His malice includes telling a still-grieving mother (Patty) that her husband blames her for their infant son's death. The fact that the other characters remain friends with this vicious man after such a hurtful act (for which he never shows a drop of remorse, because the movie doesn't seem to find any necessary), indicates that they're just as flawed as he is.
But the baby blame is not all. At the same dinner, each of the spouses publicly learns that the other has been lying about something. Sobered, the party quickly disbands and everyone heads home. Whatever laughs the movie held are left behind with the snowy mountains as the plot devolves into a soap opera, with each couple struggling with their differences separately, finding solutions that are even more shallow than the underlying conflicts were strained.
For instance, one character had her tubes tied years ago without her husband's knowledge. On his part, he had a dna test performed on their daughter to ensure that he was the father, behind her back. When the wife finds out about the dna test, she bluffs and lets him think his suspicions were justified and that she did have an affair. He eventually moves out of the house. When she goes to ask him to return home he lets her think he too has had an affair and has impregnated his nurse with twins, just to test her love for him. She passes the test, is determined to take him back anyway, he reveals and was 'just kidding'. She laughs, apologizes to him profusely and then they embrace in a "happy ending" move so unearned, disturbing and dysfunctional, it leaves the audience more horrified than pleased.
Patty and her husband work out the resentment and guilt they've long felt over their child's death with one big cry. Of course, one can't blame them for reconciling. With friends as oblivious to their pain as theirs are, these two really need each other!
In short, with all the couples stumbling their way to a false harmony, the last hour of the film feels like two.
The only moment I wanted to cheer in the movie was when Sheila's new love interest, Troy, avoided a cliche "I think you're beautiful just the way you are," line and instead told her, "If you don't like the way you look, then change it. Stop putting yourself down. It's not attractive and it makes me uncomfortable for you." While Sheila's ultimate transformation didn't really prove that change can only come from within, Troy's surprisingly candid words were at least helpful for viewers who were tired of seeing Sheila weep.
I've seen Perry lauded for his unique blend of madness and message, but here I find the mix clumsy and unsettling. Tragic twists are handled with a comic lightness that insults any viewer who has bothered to care about these people.
I think Tyler Perry was reaching for The Big Chill with this movie and he succeeded: it is a big chill.
It's not a bad film. It's just more mediocre than I would have guessed from the above-average reviews. If this is one of Tyler Perry's best, I can only be relieved about the other bullets I've clearly dodged.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Lucky Night (1939)
The Script Fails its Stars
This comedy has about 15 minutes of charming banter between Myrna Loy and Robert Taylor. For a time, she displays some of the same light-hearted romping spirit that made her famous in the Thin Man movies. But the plot, which is silly to begin with (heiress decides to make it on her own, leaves wealthy home, meets a bum and they gamble and sweet talk their way into great fun), takes a somewhat dramatic ("is that all there is") turn in the end.
Actually, for 1939, the script identifies a pretty mature marital conflict: she longs for security and he longs for the spontaneous, irresponsible thrills that made them fall in love in the first place. How do you compromise? Well, after raising the question, this movie sure doesn't tell us! It should have stuck to the levity and the lunacy. Still, if you're a fan of Taylor or Loy, it's worth 90 minutes of your time.
This comedy has about 15 minutes of charming banter between Myrna Loy and Robert Taylor. For a time, she displays some of the same light-hearted romping spirit that made her famous in the Thin Man movies. But the plot, which is silly to begin with (heiress decides to make it on her own, leaves wealthy home, meets a bum and they gamble and sweet talk their way into great fun), takes a somewhat dramatic ("is that all there is") turn in the end.
Actually, for 1939, the script identifies a pretty mature marital conflict: she longs for security and he longs for the spontaneous, irresponsible thrills that made them fall in love in the first place. How do you compromise? Well, after raising the question, this movie sure doesn't tell us! It should have stuck to the levity and the lunacy. Still, if you're a fan of Taylor or Loy, it's worth 90 minutes of your time.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
New Moon (2009)
After the success of Twilight, Summit Entertainment certainly realized they had a goldmine on their hands, so you'd think the second installment would be an improvement on the modest first. Unfortunately, that was not the case from either a story, acting or production standpoint.
To begin with, the new director Chris Weitz was not an improvement over Catherine Hardwicke. It seemed like he had less of a budget to work with, when just the opposite was true. In this second installment, there are no scenic visuals, no arresting camera angles. No artful staging. There's more action, but it feels phony and falls flat. It includes the wolves that were in the book and some Volturi fights that were not. Since the filmmakers feel the need to rev up the volume, not by heightening the romance upon which this saga is built, but by creating physical conflicts that weren't in the original source material, I shudder to think of what they will do for the series finale.
Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson are back in this sequel, although Pattinson is absent for 75% of the movie and Taylor Lautner steps in as Jacob, the other non-human in Bella's life. Having Pattinson gone saved the audience from much of his relentless squinting. His broad forehead is constantly wrinkled in, what I can only assume is supposed to be agony. He has a visage that resembles Frankenstein more than Dracula and he mumbles so much that if I hadn't read the books, I'd have little idea of anything Edward said. The laconic Kristen Stewart's measured monotone mirrors his and they're a murmur match made in heaven.
Stewart is not untalented. She has a deft quality that brings small moments to life, as when Bella, eager to avoid a romantic movie, convinces her friends to go see Face Punch instead. Stewart plays subtle humor well, but when the script calls for deep emotion -- such as a fear of bloodthirsty vampires or the undying love that is the cornerstone of Bella and Edward's relationship -- she's missing in action.
As for Lautner, it's hard to tell whether he's a bad actor or just struggling with bad dialogue. For better or worse, he emotes more than the other two. In the nineties, the X-Files was mocked because critics claimed Mulder and Scully droned constantly, never using inflection in their tones. The Simpsons even spoofed their robotic demeanors in an episode called The Springfield Files and, always one for self-mockery, the X-Files lampooned its own deadpan characters in an entry titled Jose Chung's from Outer Space. The fact is, Mulder and Scully's calm masked repressed love and pain made all the more powerful because it was so controlled. With Bella and Edward, it's not control lurking behind their blank exteriors, but apathy. Everything they are is visible on the surface and that surface is empty.
Comparing the movie to the book, Bella implores Jacob not to make her choose between him and Edward, because if he does she'll choose Edward. She lets Jacob know that it's always going to be Edward. I for one wish that Book Bella had been that direct. In the book she repeatedly described her preference for Edward in much more complicated terms, then ended up contradicting it by describing her attraction for Jacob in almost identical words a few pages later. In the movie, one senses more certainty in her words, for now at least. Who knows what she'll say in the third movie. Certainly, the movie allows Jacob and Bella to connect in a kiss that was deflected by Bella's continued hallucinations of Edward. Meyer's Jacob and Bella did not actually kiss until the end of Eclipse. The movie is taking this side of the triangle further, faster, in a way that can only disappoint Team Edward! As Taylor Lautner has quite a fan base, the movies will, no doubt, make all of Jacob's interactions with Bella racier than the actual Twilight pages would justify.
Furthermore, while the written series ended on a non-violent note, it's doubtful the movie makers will be content for that to happen. They've already revved up the Volterra "action" scenes, in New Moon, creating an extended fight Edward never had with the Volturi guards. There's sure to be more of that manufactured excitement in the films to come, sacrificing the exploration of character relationships for special effects.
Continuing to compare story to script, there's also a small twist earlier in the film when Jacob answers the phone in Bella's home. In the movie, Jacob knows he's talking to Edward, when he sneers and hangs up abruptly. In the book, Jacob thought he was speaking to Edward's father. Given the fact that Jacob knew that Bella would want to speak to Edward above all else, let alone the consequences of that abbreviated phone call (which made Edward mistakenly assume that Bella was dead), Jacob's action in hanging up alone should have been enough to cause Bella to end their friendship for good, without remorse. Unfortunately, that doesn't happen.
The Twilight saga made for an easy read, fulfilling sophmoric fantasies. I invariably expected less from the movie, but not this much less.
My review of the New Moon book can be found
here
To begin with, the new director Chris Weitz was not an improvement over Catherine Hardwicke. It seemed like he had less of a budget to work with, when just the opposite was true. In this second installment, there are no scenic visuals, no arresting camera angles. No artful staging. There's more action, but it feels phony and falls flat. It includes the wolves that were in the book and some Volturi fights that were not. Since the filmmakers feel the need to rev up the volume, not by heightening the romance upon which this saga is built, but by creating physical conflicts that weren't in the original source material, I shudder to think of what they will do for the series finale.
Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson are back in this sequel, although Pattinson is absent for 75% of the movie and Taylor Lautner steps in as Jacob, the other non-human in Bella's life. Having Pattinson gone saved the audience from much of his relentless squinting. His broad forehead is constantly wrinkled in, what I can only assume is supposed to be agony. He has a visage that resembles Frankenstein more than Dracula and he mumbles so much that if I hadn't read the books, I'd have little idea of anything Edward said. The laconic Kristen Stewart's measured monotone mirrors his and they're a murmur match made in heaven.
Stewart is not untalented. She has a deft quality that brings small moments to life, as when Bella, eager to avoid a romantic movie, convinces her friends to go see Face Punch instead. Stewart plays subtle humor well, but when the script calls for deep emotion -- such as a fear of bloodthirsty vampires or the undying love that is the cornerstone of Bella and Edward's relationship -- she's missing in action.
As for Lautner, it's hard to tell whether he's a bad actor or just struggling with bad dialogue. For better or worse, he emotes more than the other two. In the nineties, the X-Files was mocked because critics claimed Mulder and Scully droned constantly, never using inflection in their tones. The Simpsons even spoofed their robotic demeanors in an episode called The Springfield Files and, always one for self-mockery, the X-Files lampooned its own deadpan characters in an entry titled Jose Chung's from Outer Space. The fact is, Mulder and Scully's calm masked repressed love and pain made all the more powerful because it was so controlled. With Bella and Edward, it's not control lurking behind their blank exteriors, but apathy. Everything they are is visible on the surface and that surface is empty.
Comparing the movie to the book, Bella implores Jacob not to make her choose between him and Edward, because if he does she'll choose Edward. She lets Jacob know that it's always going to be Edward. I for one wish that Book Bella had been that direct. In the book she repeatedly described her preference for Edward in much more complicated terms, then ended up contradicting it by describing her attraction for Jacob in almost identical words a few pages later. In the movie, one senses more certainty in her words, for now at least. Who knows what she'll say in the third movie. Certainly, the movie allows Jacob and Bella to connect in a kiss that was deflected by Bella's continued hallucinations of Edward. Meyer's Jacob and Bella did not actually kiss until the end of Eclipse. The movie is taking this side of the triangle further, faster, in a way that can only disappoint Team Edward! As Taylor Lautner has quite a fan base, the movies will, no doubt, make all of Jacob's interactions with Bella racier than the actual Twilight pages would justify.
Furthermore, while the written series ended on a non-violent note, it's doubtful the movie makers will be content for that to happen. They've already revved up the Volterra "action" scenes, in New Moon, creating an extended fight Edward never had with the Volturi guards. There's sure to be more of that manufactured excitement in the films to come, sacrificing the exploration of character relationships for special effects.
Continuing to compare story to script, there's also a small twist earlier in the film when Jacob answers the phone in Bella's home. In the movie, Jacob knows he's talking to Edward, when he sneers and hangs up abruptly. In the book, Jacob thought he was speaking to Edward's father. Given the fact that Jacob knew that Bella would want to speak to Edward above all else, let alone the consequences of that abbreviated phone call (which made Edward mistakenly assume that Bella was dead), Jacob's action in hanging up alone should have been enough to cause Bella to end their friendship for good, without remorse. Unfortunately, that doesn't happen.
The Twilight saga made for an easy read, fulfilling sophmoric fantasies. I invariably expected less from the movie, but not this much less.
My review of the New Moon book can be found
here
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Twilight (2008)
I spent the week between Christmas and New Year's Day reading the four Twilight books. They were entertaining if not impressive and I enjoyed the romance of the story as much as any Harlequin I might have read as a teenager some thirty odd years ago.
The books behind me, I wanted to see the movies, while the plots (such as they were) were still fresh in my head. While most of the reviews I'd read placed the lion's share of the movie's acting deficits at Kristen Stewart's feet, I found her to be quite competent as Bella. Her voice was huskier and manner more masculine than I'd expected from the heroine, but she was believable as a reserved, introspective teen. Her tomboyish quality was reminiscent of Jodie Foster, maybe that rubbed off during Panic Room. Unfortunately, Stewart doesn't have Foster's acting range yet, but there's a smidgeon of depth. While she didn't exhibit any of Bella's capacity for passion or panic from the novel, she expressed the casual aspects of the character quite well, with a realistic deadpan shrug.
It was Robert Pattinson which brought the flick to a screeching halt, so that, overall, it is fit for nothing more than Saturday Night Live bait. Edward is supposed to be over 107 years old. He's meant to possess an old world charm that not only captures Bella's heart but enthralls every woman he encounters, young or old. Pattinson is completely devoid of such powers.
Since Bella harps on Edward's eloquent, musical voice so much in the books, I would have thought the producer's first act was to find an actor with a distinct and distinguished speaking manner. Instead, the casting agent seemed to be going for Bam Bam Rubble. I really don't understand this because Pattinson is British. I've seen him on talk shows and he sounds debonair enough given his youth. Since David Niven and beyond, the British accent has been a surefire aphrodisiac for us Yanks. Allowing Pattinson to speak in his native tongue would have given Edward a unique, refined quality that would make it easier for us to associate him with 19th Century America. But the filmmakers were having none of it! Their Edward speaks like a New Jersey thug. And far from being eloquent, he speaks in halting, strained English that makes you suspect he's illiterate. When he tells Bella that he's repeated high school many times, I'm guessing it's not because he's lived for decades, but because he's just that dumb. Carlisle probably converted him into one of the undead because he felt it was the only way Edward could ever live long enough to obtain the academic assistance he appears to need quite badly.
In Edward's tight t-shirt, I think the director was aiming for Marlon Brando, but only hit Stanley Kowalski. Edward should say culture, class, not "I'm da son Archie Bunker never had."
Worse than his demeanor, Pattinson doesn't act, so much as emote with one big furrowed brow -- which itself would be fine, if it wasn't a fake brow. In the book, Edward's skin is stone cold, like marble and he can't express emotion, except with his eyes. So, if his features had remained implacid throughout the movie, like he'd overdosed on Botox, I could have accepted that. No, instead he wears a scrunched up look for 2 hours, which is more obnoxious than pained or brooding.
Pattinson's Edward also seems more fascinated with himself than Bella could ever be. In the book, Edward becomes so protective of Bella that is more paternalistic than romantic. It more than borders on patronizing. But you'd almost welcome that in the movie. One feels that Pattinson's Edward only hangs around Bella because he can better see himself in the reflection of her awestruck eyes. The book's Edward sees Bella as fragile and delicate and uses his strength and speed to shield and cradle her. The movie Edward only uses his superhuman skills to show off around her. He seems to hang around her for the challenge of (maybe) resisting her blood, not because he's been transformed by love. He wasn't courtly. He wasn't loving. He wasn't "beautiful." He wasn't right for the part.
Due to the movie's failure to realize and portray the romance that defined the book, it collapses on all other levels, because there's little else of substance left. The movie's "plot" is less suspenseful than your average Desperate Housewives episode. There were some cool moments, like the fast-action baseball game, full of fluid, sped up movement, set to a nice soundtrack. The glimpse we got of Jackson Rathbone (Jasper) looked much more appealing than Pattinson, even though he hardly seemed the scarred fighter described in the novel.
Alice (played by Ashley Green) wasn't the fashionista we met in the book, but she was light and lithe, floating across the room to break the villain's neck in a gesture of graceful violence that I believe author Stephenie Meyer would have applauded. The bad vampires, Laurent, Victoria and James, gave nice swagger and attitude. Toss off tough.
Makeup question: Since Edward's the vampire, why was Bella so preternaturally pale? There was barely any difference in their skin tones.
I've seen all the Harry Potter movies and I like them just fine. I'm not immune to teen-based products, which is probably why I have the whole Twilight saga both in hard copy form and on my Kindle (for easier searching and re-reading) but this movie's rendering of the story lacks the heart, the basic caring, that should be at the story's core. It could be that the filmmakers wanted the celluloid Bella to be more independent than her written counterpart.
In the book, Edward effortlessly carried Bella everywhere, obsessed with her safety. In the movie, he clumsily tries to fasten her seatbelt once and she swats him away. There's nothing wrong with making her less fragile, but why is he so less tender? The novel's Edward used to wrap Bella in a blanket before pulling her to his chest, to shield her from the coldness of his skin. In the movie, when Bella sleepily reaches out to touch Edward he looks startled and not in a good way. I think he's afraid she might break his sculpted hair. Earlier, when he confessed that he often stole into her room to watch her sleep, because she was "fascinating", he sounded like he was mocking rather than extolling.
Pattinson was miscast, which makes everything else the movie achieved or left undone moot. I saw him in a Harper's Bazarre picture spread recently and he had no more dimension in the movie than he did in that photo layout. Glossy pages, but no content. Turns out that although a vampire has no soul, an actor needs one. Without soul and intelligence in the role, the result is more dead than undead.
The books behind me, I wanted to see the movies, while the plots (such as they were) were still fresh in my head. While most of the reviews I'd read placed the lion's share of the movie's acting deficits at Kristen Stewart's feet, I found her to be quite competent as Bella. Her voice was huskier and manner more masculine than I'd expected from the heroine, but she was believable as a reserved, introspective teen. Her tomboyish quality was reminiscent of Jodie Foster, maybe that rubbed off during Panic Room. Unfortunately, Stewart doesn't have Foster's acting range yet, but there's a smidgeon of depth. While she didn't exhibit any of Bella's capacity for passion or panic from the novel, she expressed the casual aspects of the character quite well, with a realistic deadpan shrug.
It was Robert Pattinson which brought the flick to a screeching halt, so that, overall, it is fit for nothing more than Saturday Night Live bait. Edward is supposed to be over 107 years old. He's meant to possess an old world charm that not only captures Bella's heart but enthralls every woman he encounters, young or old. Pattinson is completely devoid of such powers.
Since Bella harps on Edward's eloquent, musical voice so much in the books, I would have thought the producer's first act was to find an actor with a distinct and distinguished speaking manner. Instead, the casting agent seemed to be going for Bam Bam Rubble. I really don't understand this because Pattinson is British. I've seen him on talk shows and he sounds debonair enough given his youth. Since David Niven and beyond, the British accent has been a surefire aphrodisiac for us Yanks. Allowing Pattinson to speak in his native tongue would have given Edward a unique, refined quality that would make it easier for us to associate him with 19th Century America. But the filmmakers were having none of it! Their Edward speaks like a New Jersey thug. And far from being eloquent, he speaks in halting, strained English that makes you suspect he's illiterate. When he tells Bella that he's repeated high school many times, I'm guessing it's not because he's lived for decades, but because he's just that dumb. Carlisle probably converted him into one of the undead because he felt it was the only way Edward could ever live long enough to obtain the academic assistance he appears to need quite badly.
In Edward's tight t-shirt, I think the director was aiming for Marlon Brando, but only hit Stanley Kowalski. Edward should say culture, class, not "I'm da son Archie Bunker never had."
Worse than his demeanor, Pattinson doesn't act, so much as emote with one big furrowed brow -- which itself would be fine, if it wasn't a fake brow. In the book, Edward's skin is stone cold, like marble and he can't express emotion, except with his eyes. So, if his features had remained implacid throughout the movie, like he'd overdosed on Botox, I could have accepted that. No, instead he wears a scrunched up look for 2 hours, which is more obnoxious than pained or brooding.
Pattinson's Edward also seems more fascinated with himself than Bella could ever be. In the book, Edward becomes so protective of Bella that is more paternalistic than romantic. It more than borders on patronizing. But you'd almost welcome that in the movie. One feels that Pattinson's Edward only hangs around Bella because he can better see himself in the reflection of her awestruck eyes. The book's Edward sees Bella as fragile and delicate and uses his strength and speed to shield and cradle her. The movie Edward only uses his superhuman skills to show off around her. He seems to hang around her for the challenge of (maybe) resisting her blood, not because he's been transformed by love. He wasn't courtly. He wasn't loving. He wasn't "beautiful." He wasn't right for the part.
Due to the movie's failure to realize and portray the romance that defined the book, it collapses on all other levels, because there's little else of substance left. The movie's "plot" is less suspenseful than your average Desperate Housewives episode. There were some cool moments, like the fast-action baseball game, full of fluid, sped up movement, set to a nice soundtrack. The glimpse we got of Jackson Rathbone (Jasper) looked much more appealing than Pattinson, even though he hardly seemed the scarred fighter described in the novel.
Alice (played by Ashley Green) wasn't the fashionista we met in the book, but she was light and lithe, floating across the room to break the villain's neck in a gesture of graceful violence that I believe author Stephenie Meyer would have applauded. The bad vampires, Laurent, Victoria and James, gave nice swagger and attitude. Toss off tough.
Makeup question: Since Edward's the vampire, why was Bella so preternaturally pale? There was barely any difference in their skin tones.
I've seen all the Harry Potter movies and I like them just fine. I'm not immune to teen-based products, which is probably why I have the whole Twilight saga both in hard copy form and on my Kindle (for easier searching and re-reading) but this movie's rendering of the story lacks the heart, the basic caring, that should be at the story's core. It could be that the filmmakers wanted the celluloid Bella to be more independent than her written counterpart.
In the book, Edward effortlessly carried Bella everywhere, obsessed with her safety. In the movie, he clumsily tries to fasten her seatbelt once and she swats him away. There's nothing wrong with making her less fragile, but why is he so less tender? The novel's Edward used to wrap Bella in a blanket before pulling her to his chest, to shield her from the coldness of his skin. In the movie, when Bella sleepily reaches out to touch Edward he looks startled and not in a good way. I think he's afraid she might break his sculpted hair. Earlier, when he confessed that he often stole into her room to watch her sleep, because she was "fascinating", he sounded like he was mocking rather than extolling.
Pattinson was miscast, which makes everything else the movie achieved or left undone moot. I saw him in a Harper's Bazarre picture spread recently and he had no more dimension in the movie than he did in that photo layout. Glossy pages, but no content. Turns out that although a vampire has no soul, an actor needs one. Without soul and intelligence in the role, the result is more dead than undead.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Melinda and Melinda (2004)
The fundamental problem here is that the film is not true to it's own premise. The movie does not tell the same story, once as a comedy and once as a drama. Instead, it tells 2 different stories, whose only real similarity is that Radha Mitchell appears in both, playing a character named "Melinda."
Neither story is especially comedic -- save for one amusing scene involving Will Ferrell and a door jamb. Neither story is dramatic. You could say that the drama's attempt at tragedy is comically weak. That's as much genre analysis as the flick inspires.
What you have here is two short films, both only modestly compelling. That's a shame because the premise: that the only difference between comedy and drama, humor and pain, is perspective -- is an intriguing and true one.
It would have been quite an achievement to use dialogue, acting and exaggeration, to highlight the similarities between satire and sincerity. I would have loved seeing identical plots take different paths. Instead, we got two storylines on separate tracks, that converged only superficially.
Neither story plumbs the characters or their relationships deeply enough to unearth any discoveries about human nature. Infidelity is a theme, but it means little, impacting the plot but not the people. Adultery doesn't hurt. It doesn't anger. It just exists. At one point, Will Ferrell's Hobie declares that he's in love with Melinda, but we don't know her well enough to understand why he would be. She showed up at his apartment one night fresh from a drug overdose. She stayed for his party and if anything moving happened between her suicide attempt and his hor dourves, it happened off screen.
The tale of two Melindas shortchanges each of them. We switch back from one story, just in time to prevent the other from achieving any substance. If the device of showing comedy and tragedy as sides of the same coin had succeeded, then maybe the story itself would not have mattered. But once that experiment failed, its remaining components were insufficient to sustain a movie, let alone two of them.
Neither story is especially comedic -- save for one amusing scene involving Will Ferrell and a door jamb. Neither story is dramatic. You could say that the drama's attempt at tragedy is comically weak. That's as much genre analysis as the flick inspires.
What you have here is two short films, both only modestly compelling. That's a shame because the premise: that the only difference between comedy and drama, humor and pain, is perspective -- is an intriguing and true one.
It would have been quite an achievement to use dialogue, acting and exaggeration, to highlight the similarities between satire and sincerity. I would have loved seeing identical plots take different paths. Instead, we got two storylines on separate tracks, that converged only superficially.
Neither story plumbs the characters or their relationships deeply enough to unearth any discoveries about human nature. Infidelity is a theme, but it means little, impacting the plot but not the people. Adultery doesn't hurt. It doesn't anger. It just exists. At one point, Will Ferrell's Hobie declares that he's in love with Melinda, but we don't know her well enough to understand why he would be. She showed up at his apartment one night fresh from a drug overdose. She stayed for his party and if anything moving happened between her suicide attempt and his hor dourves, it happened off screen.
The tale of two Melindas shortchanges each of them. We switch back from one story, just in time to prevent the other from achieving any substance. If the device of showing comedy and tragedy as sides of the same coin had succeeded, then maybe the story itself would not have mattered. But once that experiment failed, its remaining components were insufficient to sustain a movie, let alone two of them.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Michael Clayton (2007)
Well, I wasn't bored. Clooney and Swinton were great. But the plot didn't have much tension. The details were deliberately murky for the first 25 minutes, which resulted in inherent suspense, because it was unclear who everyone was. Once that was straightened out and you could recognize the lawyer, client and indian chief, it was fairly predictable. You'll find more surprises in a half hour of Damages.
In the opening minutes, we saw Clooney's Clayton walking to his car, fresh from a round of illegal gambling, weary against the dark night, alone. When he reached for the door handle, I was afraid the car would explode. One sensed that there was danger lurking, even when you couldn't see it. Yet, when actual assasins were unveiled in that same scene later, there was little menace at all. Funny how when the moment rolls around again, it's anticlimatic, not mysterious. The repeat wasn't needed to explain anything. It only served to show how uncomplicated the plot all was from the start. A jigsaw puzzle whose pieces only seemed scrambled from a distance. Film noir exposed to the light of day.
I did leave with questions: what made Michael stop to look at the horses in the first place? Why were those 3, unbridled horses standing out in an open field right off of the highway? Why in the famous confrontation scene with Karen does Michael say he sold Arthur out for $80,000? He never betrayed Arthur. Even if he could have done it legally, I doubt that he would have committed the man -- who seriously needed mental help anyway. Clayton wouldn't have been selling him out, so much as saving him.
When we met Michael, he was telling an angry client that he couldn't get away with a hit-and-run. Michael's integrity was never questioned in the viewer's mind. The fact that it was in his only served as testament to, well, his integrity.
Yes, he was in debt (protecting his brother), but there was no suggestion that he was going to sacrifice Arthur, or even compromise his own values, to pay off that debt. When he told Marty he was not demanding $80,000 in exchange for resolving the problem with Arthur, it was the truth.
Things started off slick, but in the end we learned that Michael was a great guy, with problems more human than gripping.
In the opening minutes, we saw Clooney's Clayton walking to his car, fresh from a round of illegal gambling, weary against the dark night, alone. When he reached for the door handle, I was afraid the car would explode. One sensed that there was danger lurking, even when you couldn't see it. Yet, when actual assasins were unveiled in that same scene later, there was little menace at all. Funny how when the moment rolls around again, it's anticlimatic, not mysterious. The repeat wasn't needed to explain anything. It only served to show how uncomplicated the plot all was from the start. A jigsaw puzzle whose pieces only seemed scrambled from a distance. Film noir exposed to the light of day.
I did leave with questions: what made Michael stop to look at the horses in the first place? Why were those 3, unbridled horses standing out in an open field right off of the highway? Why in the famous confrontation scene with Karen does Michael say he sold Arthur out for $80,000? He never betrayed Arthur. Even if he could have done it legally, I doubt that he would have committed the man -- who seriously needed mental help anyway. Clayton wouldn't have been selling him out, so much as saving him.
When we met Michael, he was telling an angry client that he couldn't get away with a hit-and-run. Michael's integrity was never questioned in the viewer's mind. The fact that it was in his only served as testament to, well, his integrity.
Yes, he was in debt (protecting his brother), but there was no suggestion that he was going to sacrifice Arthur, or even compromise his own values, to pay off that debt. When he told Marty he was not demanding $80,000 in exchange for resolving the problem with Arthur, it was the truth.
Things started off slick, but in the end we learned that Michael was a great guy, with problems more human than gripping.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Ghost Town (2008)
If you watched the last episode of The Office, where David Brent desperately wants to impress what turns out to be a promising blind date or were touched when Andy expressed gentleness towards Maggie in Extras, then perhaps you've longed to see Ricky Gervais as a romantic lead. Well, Ghost Town grants your wish.
Here, Gervais plays an anti-social dentist (Bertram Pincus) who briefly dies during a colonoscopy and, thereafter, finds he is able to talk to the dead. Since he's not enamored of the living, he abhors his new extra-sensory gift and runs from the ghosts who stalk him for assistance. One sharp and aggressive apparition, Frank, played by Greg Kinnear, threatens rather than pleads with Pincus to do his bidding.
Frank wants Pincus to ruin his wife's pending engagement, to a humorless philanthropist. Pincus begrudgingly undertakes the assignment and soon falls for Kinnear's wife Gwen (Tea Leoni) himself.
The first half of the movie is laden with strange and cynical wit, which Gervais handles with deft style and timing. He's especially good in a scene with the doctor who performed his colonoscopy, who is trying to avoid revealing that Pincus actually died during the procedure. No one exhibits charmless ego better than Gervais and he does so with an intelligence that justifies his condescending air. There is no actual reason to suffer fools gladly and when Pincus does not, he scores one for all of us who are too self-important to be bothered by mere mortals.
As Gwen and Pincus get to know one another, the dry wit and geek minded interests (paleontological gum disease) they share are refreshing. Gwen is a compassionate and attractive brainiac. If you want to know the way to her heart, think resin, not roses. Resin being the black goo used to preserve mummies! Pincus' nerdiness engages her intellect, An attraction based on common peccadilloes rather than passion is very realistic, yet not regularly explored in films.
Pincus and Gwen are most enjoyable when interracting on this offbeat level. Once things get mushy and both Pincus and Frank, plagued by conscious, begin rhapsodizing about their love for Gwen and how she deserves more than they can offer, the movie becomes trite and quite traditional.
To be fair, Gwen and Pincus don't exactly fall into each other's arms, but they might as well. Like Scrooge, Pincus decides to right the error of his ways and help the needy -- or dead, as the case may be and, when he has become "worthy" of her love, boy gets girl. Natch.
I think Gervais was well-used during the first part of the film. It played to his skills. However, the finale was a bit of let down, if for no other reason than that one senses that Ricky could have written it better, given half the quill. Gervais (and Merchant) fans who watched Tim Canterbury and Dawn Tinsley come together know just how satisfying a sharply-turned romance can be and can't help but think that Gwen and Pincus' fell short, in the end.
Here, Gervais plays an anti-social dentist (Bertram Pincus) who briefly dies during a colonoscopy and, thereafter, finds he is able to talk to the dead. Since he's not enamored of the living, he abhors his new extra-sensory gift and runs from the ghosts who stalk him for assistance. One sharp and aggressive apparition, Frank, played by Greg Kinnear, threatens rather than pleads with Pincus to do his bidding.
Frank wants Pincus to ruin his wife's pending engagement, to a humorless philanthropist. Pincus begrudgingly undertakes the assignment and soon falls for Kinnear's wife Gwen (Tea Leoni) himself.
The first half of the movie is laden with strange and cynical wit, which Gervais handles with deft style and timing. He's especially good in a scene with the doctor who performed his colonoscopy, who is trying to avoid revealing that Pincus actually died during the procedure. No one exhibits charmless ego better than Gervais and he does so with an intelligence that justifies his condescending air. There is no actual reason to suffer fools gladly and when Pincus does not, he scores one for all of us who are too self-important to be bothered by mere mortals.
As Gwen and Pincus get to know one another, the dry wit and geek minded interests (paleontological gum disease) they share are refreshing. Gwen is a compassionate and attractive brainiac. If you want to know the way to her heart, think resin, not roses. Resin being the black goo used to preserve mummies! Pincus' nerdiness engages her intellect, An attraction based on common peccadilloes rather than passion is very realistic, yet not regularly explored in films.
Pincus and Gwen are most enjoyable when interracting on this offbeat level. Once things get mushy and both Pincus and Frank, plagued by conscious, begin rhapsodizing about their love for Gwen and how she deserves more than they can offer, the movie becomes trite and quite traditional.
To be fair, Gwen and Pincus don't exactly fall into each other's arms, but they might as well. Like Scrooge, Pincus decides to right the error of his ways and help the needy -- or dead, as the case may be and, when he has become "worthy" of her love, boy gets girl. Natch.
I think Gervais was well-used during the first part of the film. It played to his skills. However, the finale was a bit of let down, if for no other reason than that one senses that Ricky could have written it better, given half the quill. Gervais (and Merchant) fans who watched Tim Canterbury and Dawn Tinsley come together know just how satisfying a sharply-turned romance can be and can't help but think that Gwen and Pincus' fell short, in the end.
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