True Grit Mini-Reactions

Joel Coen and Ethan Coen's True Grit is getting seen by more and more people these days, including an SAG screening on Saturday night, but with embargoes and the like in place until this Wednesday, December 1st, we'll have to go by short-burst reactions from Twitter.
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Steve Pond's 11.28 article covers the various knee-jerk reactions from around the blog-o-sphere and the consensus is that it's (unsurprisingly) pretty damn good. I know for a fact that Hollywood Elsewhere's Jeff Wells is seeing it tonight in a New York City media screening, so I would expect that anybody worth their salt on either coast will have an opinion on the matter by the end of the week - should be exciting. 

Gelato and Bali

I resentfully submitted myself to a post-Thanksgiving viewing of Ryan Murphy's Eat Pray Love and it was even more insipidly callow than I had imagined - a woe is me middle-aged tour of religious counseling and cultural identity - but more importantly - about delectable cuisine and sweeping far-world landscapes.  
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It's bad enough that the film is languorously motivated and rigidly performed, but with the projection to the visual medium, Elizabeth Gilbert's best-selling memoir is eventually revealed to be both frivolous and selfish. [D]

Review: Love & Other Drugs (2010)

What's most surprising about Ed Zwick's Love & Other Drugs is just how fatally bland it ends up being. I mean, the film is quite literally a disease and a few sex scenes away from starring Gerard Butler. 
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The workmanlike Ed Zwick puts down his race-relations historical dramas for the time being, but Love & Other Drugs is nothing more than a sporadically amusing romantic comedy-turned-weeper that uses the guise of the mid-90's pharmaceutical sales revolution and the melodramatics of impending disability to conceal a film that's hopelessly middle-brow and restrictively platitudinous. 
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Jake Gyllenhaal and Anne Hathaway elevate the material as best as they can (plus Steven Fierberg's intentionally drab 90's lensing grants the film a period-appropriate visual identity) but ultimately there are just too many musty old hats in this bag (the token fat guy roomie, the climactic confessional speech) that the film quickly takes on the appearance of a conveniently-written piece of fluff.  
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The irony here in a film that rather boldly and explicitly features its two stars without the benefit of clothing is that, in fact, the most shocking thing about Love & Other Drugs is just how utterly uninspiring it manages to be. [C-]

Tourist Season

Where is the buzz on Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck's The Tourist? I haven't heard a thing about it one way or the other and it's hitting theaters in twelve days hence.
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I never thought The Tourist looked like anything more than a classy, upscale Knight & Day, but with all of the talent involved, the lack of coverage is certainly a bit troubling. 

Review: Faster (2010)

George Tillman Jr.'s Faster is a sexy, alluring and sprightly-shot piece of junk - an unrelentingly messy and diffusive revenge thriller that's so fundamentally and structurally incompetent that it saps nearly all of the bite and snarl out of Dwayne Johnson and his mainline quest for brotherly vengeance. 
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The script by brothers Tony Gayton and Joe Gayton, which seems to be stuck somewhere between bare-knuckled 80's vigilante thriller and 21st-century post-Tarantino pulp, relies heavily on all manner of senseless flashbacks, needless characters and foolhardy plot twists (including a true laugher in the final reel.)
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As the aptly named Driver (Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson) muscles through his first few hits on his neatly-typed list of names, he's pursued by the rugged, drug-addled Cop (Billy Bob Thornton) and the dapper, egomaniacal Killer (Oliver Jackson-Cohen) who, when he isn't shooting guns with his blushing bride (Maggie Grace) in the desert seems to be simply searching, gun in hand, for a reason for his character to exist.
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And as the hitlist shrinks, Driver's trigger-finger loosens and Faster takes a turn for the serious, a gross miscalculation in a film that begs to be to anything but. It's a sad state when a simple revenge-thriller can't even stay on task. [C-]

Review: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1 (2010)

David Yates' Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part I is a drastically unique entry into the franchise with its narrow focus and steady, persistently moody atmospherics - yet ultimately, the decision to split the epic finale into two films leaves this initial installment feeling like a rather perfunctory, anticlimactic setting of the table.
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For what its worth, the rather meager and trifling first half of author J.K. Rowling's finale is somewhat miraculously transformed by screenwriter Steve Kloves into something resembling compelling drama - an almost motionless transition piece with a drastic emphasis on character moments that luckily (and surprisingly) carry the film through its many slack, fickle downturns. 
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Of course the series still exudes the technical mastery and British class acting that we've come to expect, but this is perhaps David Yates' most composed and relaxed work to date and that includes the central performances from our three leads who do most of the heavy lifting. (On a side note, let's forget about that unfortunate "Three Brothers" animated sequence, which looked like a cut-scene from Okami.)
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In fact, the film's overriding emphasis on the transformation of Harry, Ron and Hermoine from Hogwarts troublemakers to real-life survivalists provides the stark backdrop for this beginning of the end, a transformation that not only occurs on paper but on the screen, as Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson and Rupert Grint show the same sudden maturity and resolve as their wizarding alter egos. 
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But this sullen, grittier Harry Potter unfortunately has its drawbacks - chief among them that the magic of Hogwarts seems to have apparated from sight. I'd imagine that taken on the whole, this bisected cinematic experiment will turn favorably towards this initial installment, but as it stands, this is the rare Harry Potter entry that feels helplessly undernourished and glaringly irresolute. [B-]

"All Right" Doesn't Even Cut It

If there's one film I've really soured upon over the last several months, it's been Lisa Cholodenko's The Kids Are All Right, the well-publicized smash-hit out of Sundance and a sure-fire lock for one of the ten Best Picture slots this January. I originally gave the film a B- back in July, but dare I say I might have been far too forgiving.
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Now the film is very sprightly amusing and masterfully acted by all involved - there's no denying that for the first 60-70 minutes or so that you're watching a top-shelf entertainment that's about relatable, fully-formed and authentic characters that each have their good and bad moments.
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But alas, I was absolutely appalled by the last ten-fifteen minutes or so in which, yes, Mark Ruffalo's earthy, vegetable-growing biological father is just kicked to the curb so that Choldoenko's timely, liberal-minded message can take center stage. (By the way, the film's politics are not the issue - I agree with them - it just seemed drastically short-sighted and self-indulgent in those final scenes.)
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That scene has been kicked around quite a bit around the blog-o-sphere since it's release over the summer, and I'm certainly not the only person who feels this way. Nominate the performances all you want, nominate Mark Ruffalo, please - but this is a lame duck.  

The Last of the Contenders

After being slightly disappointed by Danny Boyle's poppy, existential survival story 127 Hours, there are just a handful of films left to be seen before we can lay all of the chips down on the table and let the games begin. 
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Personally, I can't wait for Darren Aronofsky's Black Swan or the Coen Brothers' True Grit, then there's David O. Russell's The Fighter, which is building up strong buzz following its LA premiere last week (especially for Best Supporting Actor nominee in the making, Christian Bale). 
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But everyone's (or so it seems) Oscar leader right now is the obligatory British prestige film of the year, Tom Hooper's The King's Speech, which I won't be able to see until around Christmas. 
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And then there are pockets of strong-to-intermediate contenders like John Cameron Mitchell's Rabbit Hole, Nigel Cole's Made in Dagenham and Peter Weir's The Way Back.

The Art Behind Criterion's Cover-Art

Designer Sam Smith has been asked by Criterion to take the daunting and prestigious task of tackling the cover art duties for the Blu-ray/DVD releases of both Nobuhiko Obayashi's House and, more recently, Charlie Chaplin's Modern Times.
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This post on his blog, Sam's Myth, dated yesterday, details the fascinating journey from the sketchpad to store shelves. There's tons of great concept art, the path of the creative process, etc. 
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As a designer-in-training (I'm trying to pursue a degree in Comm Design as we speak from the University of North Texas), this stuff is fascinating to me as I consider movie-related design (posters, advertising, cover art, etc.) to be the ultimate dream job. 

Trailer: Cowboys & Aliens (2011)

I like it. Jon Favreau needs a refresher after the misguided and ultimately careless Iron Man 2 and this has a unique feel to it - a genre-blender with a surprisingly stoic personality. Daniel Craig looks terrific. 

Trailer: Green Lantern

Well, I don't think the nerds are gonna be happy about this one. Martin Campbell's Green Lantern (Warner Bros., 6.17.11) looks, quite frankly, dreadful. 
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Even the production values looks sub-par, with Hal Jordan's suit a post-production nightmare. (Looks like those Comic-Con worries are becoming more valid by the minute.) You can get by with the whole "here we go again" superhero formula, but when you botch the execution and your cast is just fair, things could get rough - look out below.
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Review: Red (2010)

An experienced, veteran cast saves Robert Schwentke's Red (yet another rogue spy-ops action comedy) from its lesser ambitions and doughy underbelly. The result is an agreeable, perfectly enjoyable product seemingly stuck in neutral in which the action doesn't quite thrill and the punch-lines don't quite snap. 
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It's more of a shuffling, laid-back and under control kind of film, much less endowed to its comic-book origins than Sylvian White's The Losers and far less exertive than Joe Carnahan's The A-Team.
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Of course, fundamentally, the films are the same - a tactical group of ex-spies are back in action against their former employers, dead set on revenge or immunity and perfectly willing to doll out the brutality in the most excessively wildish ways - usually in a shipping yard.
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Red operates on this same plane, but it's approach is much more patient and laissez-faire and very infrequently does it devolve into inordinate bouts of cartoonish gunplay and loopy theatrics. (Although don't misunderstand me, that stuff is there, just not in any egregious quantities.)  
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No, it's more of an amusing, chuckle here-and-there action movie log-ride, which turns out to be an endearing quality with the talent in front of the camera, including terrific turns by Bruce Willis, Karl Urban and specifically, Mary Louise-Parker. 
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I'm not sure I cared one bit about the team's outlandish plot to kidnap the Vice President, but at times, I'm not sure I was even aware of the plan's implementation. If nothing else, Red proves that sometimes starpower, charisma and a few guns can go a long way, or rather, a long-enough way. [B-]

Review: Unstoppable (2010)

Tony Scott's Unstoppable pretty much delivers the accelerated thrills and blue-collar uprising that you would expect from this kind of film, which is made very much in the same spirit as Speed, or any number of mid-90's thrillers.
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Better yet, Scott's instantly identifiable shooting style - full of whirling dervish conversations and rapid-fire snap-zooms and quick-cuts - is less of a problem here than in his woeful remake of last year, The Taking of Pelham 123. (The absence of the over-cussing John Travolta helps considerably, as well.)
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But what regrettably remains is his penchant for lazy, hoary character-building and family relationships, resulting in countless reaction shots of daughters, wives and friends all viewing through clenched fists the heroics on their television sets at, among other places, Hooters. Yes, occasionally, the effect of Unstoppable is akin to witnessing a football watching party.
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Yet Denzel Washington and Chris Pine as the two unlikely heroes provide enough material to overcome the film's more queasy details and watching the two of them bicker and banter and finally unite to take on the speeding iron horse is a sporadically stimulating experience, the kind of which was absent throughout Scott's previous railway dabble. 
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Just remember, there's no better (or cheaper) way to fix a marriage than to chase down a runaway train on television. [B-]

Review: 127 Hours (2010)

Danny Boyle's 127 Hours, the much-publicized new film chronicling the five-plus day entrapment of real-life climber Aron Ralston, is a restless, intensified and semi-grueling display of inventive close-quarters filmmaking, the kind of which Mr. Boyle thrives on. 

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But a film like this shouldn't merely be measured by and judged upon its technical affluence as a genre piece, but rather on its success as a work of considerable emotional impact dealing with not only the inspirational triumph of the human will, but a lonely 27 year-old's refusal to be left unheard.

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Yet where the film thrives (and Mr. Boyle's touch is most evident) is in its numerous pockets of split-screen sensory fulmination - the sandpaper terrain brushing against the fingertips, the gargling of an ever depleting water supply, the sharpness and shock of pain, etc. - rather than in its start-and-stop, time-sifting segments of self-critique and remembrance. (In these moments, Boyle's reality-altering images flirt with both poignancy and cliché.)
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But even with a performance of significant warmth and aloof wild-man intensity from James Franco (and a refreshingly great deal of comic relief), the film remains mostly successful in its stinging survivalist details and desperate daily routines rather than in its psychological viewpoints and near-death premonitions. 
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Danny Boyle and Simon Beaufoy (credited as co-writers) do a nice job of building up Aron's self-image as he moves from hapless climber to social outcast, but even with a great deal of man vs. nature symbolism and supernatural overtones, the film remains too mechanical and muffled to be truly felt.

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And thus, something is amiss here between the liberating self-discovery at hand and Mr. Boyle's deafening sensory amplification (including that unfortunate guitar-riff soundtrack) to the point where the two eventually butt heads, in effect dulling and diluting the spiritual resonance of Aron's miraculous survival story.

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All I know is what I feel and after the brief amount of time that has elapsed since leaving the theater, the only images and feelings that indelibly remain are that of a mutilated right arm and the lingering quotient of queasiness. [C+]

Again With the Aliens

I assume I'll be seeing this trailer for Jonathan Liebesman's Battle: Los Angeles (Sony/Columbia, 3.11.11) today in front of Tony Scott's Unstoppable. I would hope it wouldn't be shown before Skyline, you might have people just skip out. 
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But seriously, this is about as well-cut a trailer as you'll find for this type of stuff. Roland Emmerich just bought his tickets. 
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Review: Monsters (2010)

My gut reaction to Gareth Edwards' Monsters was that it was complete shit, but perhaps that was a slight overreaction. I have to give credit where credit is due and the fact that the film tries to be more than meets the eye should be commended, but it's a slippery slope and ultimately, it succumbs to its lofty, ever-changing motivations - it's more of an "okay, I get what you're doing, but no thanks" kind of thing.
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Monsters is never the creature-feature genre film that most people will be expecting when they dive into it. As it evolves, it flips the switch from a hazardous road movie to slow-burning love story to U.S.-Mexico border-trafficking political allegory.
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The problem is that it speaks too loudly and arrives too late on the heels of James Cameron's Avatar and Neil Blomkamp's District 9 - both message-laden science-fiction efforts that used colonization and alien invasion respectively to paint portraits of man's primal nature of domination. (Here, the U.S. soldiers hum "Ride of the Valkyries" in their humvee - how barbaric!) 
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It does become clear that Edwards has a keen visual eye and is working from a good place (his clever, out-of-focus cinematography is used well, especially in the final shot), but the film ultimately can't balance both its obvious political and ecological undertones with its science-fiction setting. To put it plainly, those out for blood will be thoroughly disappointed - and who can blame them? [C]

Wacky Wednesday

Well, it's not really all that wacky, but I have a brief one-day reprieve from school work and an usual amount of time on my hands to head into the city to catch Gareth Edwards' Monsters. I don't really know what to expect, but I'm always up for some science-fiction, especially if it's an import. 
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And strangely I'm looking forward to Tony Scott's Unstoppable on Friday plus Danny Boyle's 127 Hours, which is a no-brainer and a must-see if you're into watching and following the awards season unfold over the next few months. I'm almost obligated to go. 

Jane Eyre Poster

There aren't many bold or conceptual poster designs in the domestic realm these days, but this one-sheet stunner for Cary Fukunaga's Jane Eyre (Focus Features, 3.11) is the exception to the rule. 
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Of course, Mia Wasikowska will play the title role and the great Michael Fassbender will play Mr. Rochester (two inspired casting strokes if you ask me), but Cary Fukunaga is the big draw for me, who brought such a lived-in authenticity to his striking debut, Sin Nombre.
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Review: Morning Glory (2010)

After seeing Roger Michell's Morning Glory last night in a packed house at the Dallas Angelika, I can honestly say that it's a complete and utter turd. Jeff Wells, you can forget Broadcast News,  this isn't even The Devil Wears Prada - hell, it's not even Aaron Sorkin's smarmy, ill-fated TV series, "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip." 
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No, because to make that distinction, you'd be (wrongfully) suggesting that everyone and everything in Morning Glory isn't complete bullshit - a fantasyland girl-tackles-corporate America romantic comedy that's about as sweet and sugary as its fictional morning talk show "Daybreak". 
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It's one of those films that less advocate and stingy film-goers will really dig because it's full of good-looking people and safe, on-the-rails character arcs that safely land home in the end, but anybody looking for some whole-grain fiber will be laughed at, derided and then handed a plate of donuts with extra glaze.
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Rachel McAdams certainly cements her status as an adorable leading lady, but this is an empty, one-note performance of high-intensity workaholic peppiness that becomes grating after, well, the opening scene. 
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And Michell, the director without a clue, never reels in the bat-shit insanity of the performances or the one-way convenience of Aline Brosh McKenna's tasteless script, which is essentially just a blatant rehash of her past work. (Hey, lets replace Meryl Streep with Harrison Ford and set it in the anything-goes hilarity of the network TV world!)
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And that's the basic flow of this thing - tireless, energetic, rookie television producer (McAdams) trying to crack the egg that is the stuffy old journalist-turned-drunkard (Ford) all the while falling in love for the hunky co-worker (Patrick Wilson). Morning talk-shows have never been depicted so passionately - or so squeamishly. [C-]

What's the Story?

I'm seeing Roger Mitchell's Morning Glory (Paramount, 11.10) tomorrow evening mostly because of Jeff Wells' thumbs-up review posted last Friday. 
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I'm not expecting anything great, but if it can manage to be fluffy and inconsequential in an amusing, whip-smart way, then maybe I'll half-like it. The consensus I'm hearing on the wavelengths is that it's more The Devil Wears Prada than Broadcast News, if that. We'll see.

Warning: This Film Attracts Cretins

So when I went to see Paranormal Activity 2 at 6:45 on a Friday night, I knew my sister and I were in for a contentious, highly attended showing with all manner of lowlifes - teenage boys who wear basketball shorts with their SEC haircuts and their girlie pals who giggle and squawk and go to the restrooms in pairs. 
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I knew what we were in for, was prepared to face it and yet, I was still caught off guard by one of the the most riotous, disruptive and disrespectful crowds I've ever sat and watched a movie with. 
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One has to expect a certain amount of audience participation with these late-night horror films, but loud talking and ironic jeers and screams is unacceptable anywhere - I wouldn't put up with it in a private setting with people I know and like. 
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But what are you gonna do when over half of the audience is misbehaving? Usually, if there is a small gaggle of abusers you can give 'em the death stare or ask them to be quiet or simply move,  but in this case, you're at their mercy, they win - you have to sit back and take it.

Short Take: Paranormal Activity 2 (2010)

I saw Tod Williams' Paranormal Activity 2 last Friday and I found it creepy and effective just like the first, but more in a "been there, done that" sort of way. 
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It's shot and composed very much in the spirit of the original, takes its time getting to the meat of things and throws a few wrinkles in for good measure, but if you're asking me, it doesn't shake things up enough and lives firmly in the shadow of its predecessor for the entirety.
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Doors creak open, Google searches are made and all manner of things go bump in the night, but with the exception of those pesky kitchen drawers, there isn't a trick up its sleeve that skews from the realm of predictability. 
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With Oren Peli's micro-budgeted original, the strange, paranormal occurrences were frighteningly real and yet obscure, occasionally blurring the line between night-lensed mockumentary and startling lost footage. It was a discovery, an effective flash in the pan - here, it hardly makes a spark. [C]