John Travolta and Robin Williams are middle-aged bachelors in Old Dogs, one of them comfortable with it the other one not. Both of them run a sports marketing firm, and they’re trying to close a deal with the Japanese. This is one of those movies in which the Travolta character Charlie tells a long-winded “comic” story to break the ice at a meeting, in which the Japanese heads are stolid and not amused, but then break into sudden uproarious laughter when they get the Chili Palmer-like punchline. Williams, as Dan (for one scene known as Tan Dan, whoops, I gave away a joke), is the passive straight man who prides himself in distinguished presentation. Williams, of course, can’t resist himself and has several scenes where he gets himself into a slapstick tizzy.
These two men get their lives upside-down when they are coaxed into taking care of two young 7-year old twins. The twins are a boy and girl, how about that for variety? Neither of these men are properly equipped for fatherhood which results in canned would-be hilarity, and as a sign of these two acquainting with the kids they let them watch “Friday the 13th Part III.” In public, Charlie or Dan are repeatedly viewed as either a gay couple or as two grandparents (a wearying running gag). Dan has more at stake from the start: if he succeeds as a father-type he can possibly get foxy momma Vicki (Kelly Preston) to fall in love with him after she finishes her two-week jail sentence, a sentence she picked up for harmless environmental protest. Let’s also mention that Dan fathered these children seven years ago but just learned about it.
I laughed up a storm, during one scene and one scene only, towards the end where Charlie and Dan have made a decision to venture to Japan (Seth Green was their AWOL employee, now they got to fill in). While there to do a PowerPoint or High-Def Video presentation, Dan hits the wrong button on his computer and video pops up of his two sparkling happy children and he gets teary-eyed about abandoning them. There must have been five hundred people in the theater, but I was the only one laughing at this shameless and utterly contrived tear-jerking moment.
As for the rest, manufactured comedy segments include “Prison Rules” Ultimate Frisbee, child-proofing the house, a medication pill-box switch-up, golf course hi-jinks, biting attacks by penguins and a malfunctioning jetpack. Do Travolta and Williams recognize their fallibility? That’s a question that is interpretative in a myriad number of ways. Travolta, ceaselessly jokey and jaunty as the incorrigible bachelor with a bag of anecdotes, is like a one-man glee club. Williams, while portraying uptight, is never more comfortable when he does a crazy old man dance.
These two get support by Matt Dillon, Ann-Margaret, Justin Long, Lori Loughlin, Rita Wilson and the late Bernie Mac, who all show up in small roles where they are at first cheerful, then lose their temper. Except Bernie Mac, who is groovy nearly all the way until he gets a tear in his eye (those kids do the darndest things to melt your heart). I smirked during some moments, broader audiences will eat it all up wholeheartedly.
GRADE: C-
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
PARANORMAL ACTIVITY
If you are an emotion junkie, like I am, you go to the movies hoping for something to trigger a body shuddering physiological response. If you enjoy being scared Paranormal Activity is an experience of such raw unbridled sensation that it nothing less than staggering. The fact however that it is labeled as a scary movie shouldn’t stop you from underestimating, and admiring, its ferocious and meticulous artistry. This testament of course comes from someone who doesn’t mind the shaky-cam as long as it is done well. If you take in consideration the techniques consisting of a time-coded clock that speeds ahead to crucial incidents, the use of the jump cut, and the modulation of sound design then you are aware that vérité shaky-cam style can be a meticulous art.
The branding of scary movie doesn’t do justice here because “Paranormal” is one of the most terrifying movies ever made. In this low-budget landmark (production cost $11,000), Micah and Katie, boyfriend and girlfriend, start filming and investigating the unknown spooks in their San Diego two-deck house. For some unknown reason I had tears in my eyes at one point that I cannot explain. I’m sure it wasn’t cries of sorrows so can it be something else?
When it comes down to it the less you know about the movie going in the better. But what can be said is that Micah is one of those annoying guys that always has to have the video camera on and thinks, to diminishing rational judgment, that he can solve on his own the problems plaguing his house. I know there will be some viewers that will not want to watch simply because Micah is annoying. Micah is grating in that particular way where his girl is yelling at him to turn off the damn camera but he insists in recording everything (the camcorder is his new toy). But isn’t it plausible to say that there are individuals on this Earth that are such overreaching know-it-alls that think their way is always the best way?
You need Micah to have his video camera on all the time, otherwise there wouldn’t be a movie (you can tell that "Paranormal" owes something to “The Blair Witch Project,” but trust me in that it surpasses that indie in every comparable way). So correctly is his character pitched that Micah feels plausibly human, the kind you believe would have the obsessive-compulsive need to not only run the camcorder at all time, but the need and know-how to dictate and control his girlfriend Katie. As a contrast, Katie is a compelling self-prescribed victim. When the two of them invite a psychic over to their house, Katie is receptive to all of his professional opinions while Micah is rude and dismissive of the suggested course of action. With little sensitivity in his character he never considers that he may possibly be antagonizing the phenomena that is invading their sanctuary space by his relentless actions.
In a way, Micah is as much an external conflict as… the rest of what is mysteriously happening in the movie. Micah keeps the camera turned on to document visual proof while also analyzing audio wave dials on playback which he reviews every morning. He reads specialist books on the paranormal. He surfs the internet and finds articles that relate to similar incidents that occurred back in the ’60’s. He verbalizes every new piece of information while Katie wants to know little, as less as possible.
Who knows who made the film officially since there are no opening or closing technical credits, only ominous title cards (you can surf the internet if you want the truth). The movie is presented as found footage that has been restructured in the form of a video diary. At its best moments, the camera is mounted on a tripod at night to film, in wide-angle shots, of the two of them sleeping. The video blog typography informs us that it is “Night #1” or “Night #3,” or “Night #17” and beyond. What occurs after dark is by turns gripping, goose-bumping, nerve-rattling, and ultimately, such a powerhouse that it made me scream louder than I have in ten years at the movies.
"Paranormal" may not be the most terrifying movie since “The Exorcist” but if it’s not than it is certainly within range of comparison. If you are one of those rare disaffected cases that doesn’t jump out of your seat for anything that isn’t Freddy Krueger, that you can at least acknowledge proof of ingenious sound design as an effective instrument to the art of filmmaking. But anything that provokes and elicits such a wide range of basic human responses – laughs, anxiousness, tears of fright, tears of nervousness, curiosity of the unknown, squeals of terror, encounters with the unknown – certainly qualifies as art. In that respect, "Paranormal" is a horror film masterpiece.
Go to the official site at http://www.paranormalactivity-movie.com/
GRADE: A+
The branding of scary movie doesn’t do justice here because “Paranormal” is one of the most terrifying movies ever made. In this low-budget landmark (production cost $11,000), Micah and Katie, boyfriend and girlfriend, start filming and investigating the unknown spooks in their San Diego two-deck house. For some unknown reason I had tears in my eyes at one point that I cannot explain. I’m sure it wasn’t cries of sorrows so can it be something else?
When it comes down to it the less you know about the movie going in the better. But what can be said is that Micah is one of those annoying guys that always has to have the video camera on and thinks, to diminishing rational judgment, that he can solve on his own the problems plaguing his house. I know there will be some viewers that will not want to watch simply because Micah is annoying. Micah is grating in that particular way where his girl is yelling at him to turn off the damn camera but he insists in recording everything (the camcorder is his new toy). But isn’t it plausible to say that there are individuals on this Earth that are such overreaching know-it-alls that think their way is always the best way?
You need Micah to have his video camera on all the time, otherwise there wouldn’t be a movie (you can tell that "Paranormal" owes something to “The Blair Witch Project,” but trust me in that it surpasses that indie in every comparable way). So correctly is his character pitched that Micah feels plausibly human, the kind you believe would have the obsessive-compulsive need to not only run the camcorder at all time, but the need and know-how to dictate and control his girlfriend Katie. As a contrast, Katie is a compelling self-prescribed victim. When the two of them invite a psychic over to their house, Katie is receptive to all of his professional opinions while Micah is rude and dismissive of the suggested course of action. With little sensitivity in his character he never considers that he may possibly be antagonizing the phenomena that is invading their sanctuary space by his relentless actions.
In a way, Micah is as much an external conflict as… the rest of what is mysteriously happening in the movie. Micah keeps the camera turned on to document visual proof while also analyzing audio wave dials on playback which he reviews every morning. He reads specialist books on the paranormal. He surfs the internet and finds articles that relate to similar incidents that occurred back in the ’60’s. He verbalizes every new piece of information while Katie wants to know little, as less as possible.
Who knows who made the film officially since there are no opening or closing technical credits, only ominous title cards (you can surf the internet if you want the truth). The movie is presented as found footage that has been restructured in the form of a video diary. At its best moments, the camera is mounted on a tripod at night to film, in wide-angle shots, of the two of them sleeping. The video blog typography informs us that it is “Night #1” or “Night #3,” or “Night #17” and beyond. What occurs after dark is by turns gripping, goose-bumping, nerve-rattling, and ultimately, such a powerhouse that it made me scream louder than I have in ten years at the movies.
"Paranormal" may not be the most terrifying movie since “The Exorcist” but if it’s not than it is certainly within range of comparison. If you are one of those rare disaffected cases that doesn’t jump out of your seat for anything that isn’t Freddy Krueger, that you can at least acknowledge proof of ingenious sound design as an effective instrument to the art of filmmaking. But anything that provokes and elicits such a wide range of basic human responses – laughs, anxiousness, tears of fright, tears of nervousness, curiosity of the unknown, squeals of terror, encounters with the unknown – certainly qualifies as art. In that respect, "Paranormal" is a horror film masterpiece.
Go to the official site at http://www.paranormalactivity-movie.com/
GRADE: A+
THE INVENTION OF LYING
Somebody should do a remake of THE INVENTION OF LYING real soon. What is here is a great idea for a comedy. Yet with this end result the concept is much more brave than the screenplay execution which reaches its peak early and never ups the stakes. The movie is the invention, err creation, of Ricky Gervais who also stars. Gervais is a sweet, shy fellow as Mark Bellison who to his detriment is spineless. Jennifer Garner is the unattainable, err hard to attain, love object in his life. Character arc dictates that Bellison must become less spineless to attain the things in life he wants.
Now how about this for concept. In an alternate reality that mirrors our own only in physical urban landscape the notion of lying does not exist. Nobody has ever not told the truth or been absolutely forthright in what they are thinking. Bellison arrives for his first date with the unattainable Anna (Garner) and she tells him that he has no chance, this is probably the last date, that she is only going out with him out of politeness. When Bellison loses his job as a screenwriter of overly honest and earnest history films (his domain our stories about the 13th century), everybody at the office informs him that they are glad he’s gone.
When the insignificant and ineffectual chub is unable to pay the rent, he tells the first lie that man has ever told so he can hang on above poverty level – an exhilarating special-effects rush to the head is employed to kick-start this impulse. Then he realizes he can exploit this device to trick beautiful women to pay attention to him, trick the games tables at casinos, and trick deadbeats at the local pub that he is a pirate, a lion tamer and the inventor of the bicycle among other things.
An early storytelling mistake utilizes a montage showing Bellison fixing up local people who have been saddled with problems – this is a movie that should be exploiting verbal wit and not music montages. Back to essentials: After a slip of the tongue, Bellison must make up big, big lies. By mishap, Bellison becomes the new Moses to the people of the world and tells him he can talk to the Man in the Sky. But personal self-actualization demands that Bellison get the girl, become the most famous screenwriter, and convince the world that he is a better man than his adversary played by Rob Lowe. You know, the guy with the perfect profile.
Gervais is known as an entertainer who falls back on self-deprecating humor, but throughout this particular effort, it unremittingly feels like a self-pity act. This constant mode is either endearing or annoying depending on what kind of audience member you are. But what it comes down to is Gervais getting over his poor self-image and becoming content with himself, all at the expense of a great story idea that should have way more fun with its concept. LYING might make you wish that Gervais would sell his story ideas to someone like Mike Judge who would run with this material like a renegade.
GRADE: C
Now how about this for concept. In an alternate reality that mirrors our own only in physical urban landscape the notion of lying does not exist. Nobody has ever not told the truth or been absolutely forthright in what they are thinking. Bellison arrives for his first date with the unattainable Anna (Garner) and she tells him that he has no chance, this is probably the last date, that she is only going out with him out of politeness. When Bellison loses his job as a screenwriter of overly honest and earnest history films (his domain our stories about the 13th century), everybody at the office informs him that they are glad he’s gone.
When the insignificant and ineffectual chub is unable to pay the rent, he tells the first lie that man has ever told so he can hang on above poverty level – an exhilarating special-effects rush to the head is employed to kick-start this impulse. Then he realizes he can exploit this device to trick beautiful women to pay attention to him, trick the games tables at casinos, and trick deadbeats at the local pub that he is a pirate, a lion tamer and the inventor of the bicycle among other things.
An early storytelling mistake utilizes a montage showing Bellison fixing up local people who have been saddled with problems – this is a movie that should be exploiting verbal wit and not music montages. Back to essentials: After a slip of the tongue, Bellison must make up big, big lies. By mishap, Bellison becomes the new Moses to the people of the world and tells him he can talk to the Man in the Sky. But personal self-actualization demands that Bellison get the girl, become the most famous screenwriter, and convince the world that he is a better man than his adversary played by Rob Lowe. You know, the guy with the perfect profile.
Gervais is known as an entertainer who falls back on self-deprecating humor, but throughout this particular effort, it unremittingly feels like a self-pity act. This constant mode is either endearing or annoying depending on what kind of audience member you are. But what it comes down to is Gervais getting over his poor self-image and becoming content with himself, all at the expense of a great story idea that should have way more fun with its concept. LYING might make you wish that Gervais would sell his story ideas to someone like Mike Judge who would run with this material like a renegade.
GRADE: C
COUPLES RETREAT
Hard work must have been spent in the opening credit sequence of COUPLES RETREAT which is an archival montage of couples in love in the past century, including strung together scratchy black & white clips. An easy sap in the audience will sigh at these moments. If you’re cynical, note the rest of the movie isn’t some kind of ironic anti-love statement as you might predict, actually, it’s pro-marriage – at least in its facile intent. Four couples fly to a place called Eden, that might be recognized as Bora Bora to some luxury-endowed vacationers, to go through Couples Skill Building classes and marital therapist sessions.
The comic angle of the movie is that these couples unravel while on holiday until husband and wife start taking verbal rips at each other – and then, in theory, make-up again. The earliest scenes are the snappiest, veering briefly onto that rare commodity of what you can call fresh comedy. PowerPoint presentation that is indelicate yet tactful, a friend’s request for borrowed money to buy a cool motorcycle just to impress his new girl, a toddler mistaking the use of a furnishing store display toilet.
How about the stars showcase? Vince Vaughn (his “Wedding Crashers” character wouldn’t recognize the new Vaughn) is a conscientious father of two, with Malin Akerman (“The Heartbreak Kid”) as his pretty but overspent wife. Jon Favreau and Kristen Bell would be an attractive married couple if they weren’t always desperately searching for new partners. Faizon Love is the porky-fat black guy emotionally caught between his divorced ex-wife and his new raunchy girlfriend. They’re all corralled by Jason Batemen and Kristen Bell, the well-groomed and overly dogmatic couple, to join them on a paradise getaway with the purpose of strengthening marital bond.
Throw in some pro forma conflicts between each couple and then you have, well, conflict. The best casting decision in the supporting roles were selecting John Michael Higgins and Ken Jeong as therapists (if you’re a movie buff, you know these guys). The worst casting decision was selecting Jean Reno (“The Professional”) as the inane couples’ guru and instructor. Nothing however is more overworked than the shark attack scene or the scene with a hunky but lascivious yoga instructor who as we learn wouldn’t mind stealing a wife, or perhaps, all of them.
Considerably a reunion of sorts it certainly is for Vaughn and Favreau, who are alumni of the ’90’s Los Angeles dating scene semi-classic “Swingers,” who actually co-wrote the movie together but allowed Peter Billingsley to direct (his second feature). Who would have guessed that in this reunion that, Vaughn is the cool-headed one and Favreau is the leering eye jerk? Actually, it makes sense that these guys scripted it this way, they’re having a lark playing against type. While their chummy-hostility is occasionally worth a chortle or two, hence coughed laughter, their clashed arguments about infidelity and “happy endings” can put a ruin on the idea of romantic comedy. If you hate romantic comedy, then you’ll wish that these two will just do some beer-swilling already.
When the dialogue does work, between any of the characters, it has a borderline self-aware jest that works until it teeters too far into sitcom territory. You come to realize that this sitcom level entertainment that just so happens to have attractive background scenery. COUPLES RETREAT is occasionally watchable sitcom-y junk, that asks itself to get by with its one-liners and ribald body language, but it never comes close to a summit of respectability. And finally noted, you may not be entirely convinced – at least in one case – that one of the couples looks believably married. Can you agree on which one? Forget romantic comedy generics, let’s root for a break-up.
GRADE: C
The comic angle of the movie is that these couples unravel while on holiday until husband and wife start taking verbal rips at each other – and then, in theory, make-up again. The earliest scenes are the snappiest, veering briefly onto that rare commodity of what you can call fresh comedy. PowerPoint presentation that is indelicate yet tactful, a friend’s request for borrowed money to buy a cool motorcycle just to impress his new girl, a toddler mistaking the use of a furnishing store display toilet.
How about the stars showcase? Vince Vaughn (his “Wedding Crashers” character wouldn’t recognize the new Vaughn) is a conscientious father of two, with Malin Akerman (“The Heartbreak Kid”) as his pretty but overspent wife. Jon Favreau and Kristen Bell would be an attractive married couple if they weren’t always desperately searching for new partners. Faizon Love is the porky-fat black guy emotionally caught between his divorced ex-wife and his new raunchy girlfriend. They’re all corralled by Jason Batemen and Kristen Bell, the well-groomed and overly dogmatic couple, to join them on a paradise getaway with the purpose of strengthening marital bond.
Throw in some pro forma conflicts between each couple and then you have, well, conflict. The best casting decision in the supporting roles were selecting John Michael Higgins and Ken Jeong as therapists (if you’re a movie buff, you know these guys). The worst casting decision was selecting Jean Reno (“The Professional”) as the inane couples’ guru and instructor. Nothing however is more overworked than the shark attack scene or the scene with a hunky but lascivious yoga instructor who as we learn wouldn’t mind stealing a wife, or perhaps, all of them.
Considerably a reunion of sorts it certainly is for Vaughn and Favreau, who are alumni of the ’90’s Los Angeles dating scene semi-classic “Swingers,” who actually co-wrote the movie together but allowed Peter Billingsley to direct (his second feature). Who would have guessed that in this reunion that, Vaughn is the cool-headed one and Favreau is the leering eye jerk? Actually, it makes sense that these guys scripted it this way, they’re having a lark playing against type. While their chummy-hostility is occasionally worth a chortle or two, hence coughed laughter, their clashed arguments about infidelity and “happy endings” can put a ruin on the idea of romantic comedy. If you hate romantic comedy, then you’ll wish that these two will just do some beer-swilling already.
When the dialogue does work, between any of the characters, it has a borderline self-aware jest that works until it teeters too far into sitcom territory. You come to realize that this sitcom level entertainment that just so happens to have attractive background scenery. COUPLES RETREAT is occasionally watchable sitcom-y junk, that asks itself to get by with its one-liners and ribald body language, but it never comes close to a summit of respectability. And finally noted, you may not be entirely convinced – at least in one case – that one of the couples looks believably married. Can you agree on which one? Forget romantic comedy generics, let’s root for a break-up.
GRADE: C
WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE
Movies about isolated, withdrawn and misunderstood kids can either affect similarly young kids in the audience that feel that way or they can affect adults that are able to look about twenty or thirty years or so and understand what it was like creating a fantasy adventure on their own in order to escape reality. WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE, based on a 1963 children’s book remembered by one or two previous generations, is a movie about a misunderstood kid in need of adventure as well about Things. The Things, as in talking feral creatures, of an island cut off from everything else.
Max (Max Records) is the 9-year old kid who puts his scribble on everything, like one of those autographing kids trying to scream out “I was here.” He likes to play in the snow, he likes to run after the dog, he likes to build his little fortresses in his room. And he wants somebody to join in on him. Catherine Keener plays the mom, and she’s one of those good moms that wants to encourage her son. But sometimes it’s like enough already, adults need to play their way too, and when mom brings home a new boyfriend (Mark Ruffalo) it drives Max to insane jealousy. He is no longer the number one attention-getter.
After biting mom – which he feels tears and regret – he runs off away from the world and onto a raft that carries him over the dark sea onto the Things island. Max has a crash meeting with these F/X creatures and then convinces them he is King. Finally Max has a clan of people who will listen to him and do what he wants. Voices are supplied by Lauren Ambrose, Chris Cooper, Paul Dano, Catherine O’Hara… but the only voice that really stands out instantly recognizable is James Gandolfini who is the grouch Thing.
Assimilating with the creatures diminishes Max’s loneliness, and without being said, there could be no other place for Max to so happily exist. He is the all-powerful King, right, and nothing can backfire? But the lesson here is that you must keep your ego in check no matter what you’re age or your class title happens to be. There really isn’t much else to the movie other than the island being a cutesy therapy healer for Max, who must learn that while a holiday soothes the spirit he nevertheless has to return to a family back home that loves him. Reminiscing, I am still endeared by a childhood favorites like “The Neverending Story” (1984) or “Labyrinth” (1986), both are similar lost in an imaginary fantasy world movies. But those were movies of unending adventure and relentless surprises.
Long stretches pass in the story where there is no external conflict, as nothing is unsettling until civil unrest amongst the Things gets out of hand. After you are impressed with the textures and designs of the creatures, there isn’t much else variety in terms of things to look at. You’re in a non-descript forest and then a desert region that all looks the same. Spike Jonze, taking a break from sophisticated head-spinners like “Being John Malkovich” and “Adaptation,” implements his usual trademark verité dazzle. The wildly untamed camera that jets and bumps around can be momentarily eye-popping.
Some movies prick you up and keep you alert. WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE is the kind of movie that makes you want to watch while spread out on the couch, lying sideways, and take it in like the little nibble comfort food it is. For that 1963 generation, nostalgia is fleeting.
GRADE: C+
Max (Max Records) is the 9-year old kid who puts his scribble on everything, like one of those autographing kids trying to scream out “I was here.” He likes to play in the snow, he likes to run after the dog, he likes to build his little fortresses in his room. And he wants somebody to join in on him. Catherine Keener plays the mom, and she’s one of those good moms that wants to encourage her son. But sometimes it’s like enough already, adults need to play their way too, and when mom brings home a new boyfriend (Mark Ruffalo) it drives Max to insane jealousy. He is no longer the number one attention-getter.
After biting mom – which he feels tears and regret – he runs off away from the world and onto a raft that carries him over the dark sea onto the Things island. Max has a crash meeting with these F/X creatures and then convinces them he is King. Finally Max has a clan of people who will listen to him and do what he wants. Voices are supplied by Lauren Ambrose, Chris Cooper, Paul Dano, Catherine O’Hara… but the only voice that really stands out instantly recognizable is James Gandolfini who is the grouch Thing.
Assimilating with the creatures diminishes Max’s loneliness, and without being said, there could be no other place for Max to so happily exist. He is the all-powerful King, right, and nothing can backfire? But the lesson here is that you must keep your ego in check no matter what you’re age or your class title happens to be. There really isn’t much else to the movie other than the island being a cutesy therapy healer for Max, who must learn that while a holiday soothes the spirit he nevertheless has to return to a family back home that loves him. Reminiscing, I am still endeared by a childhood favorites like “The Neverending Story” (1984) or “Labyrinth” (1986), both are similar lost in an imaginary fantasy world movies. But those were movies of unending adventure and relentless surprises.
Long stretches pass in the story where there is no external conflict, as nothing is unsettling until civil unrest amongst the Things gets out of hand. After you are impressed with the textures and designs of the creatures, there isn’t much else variety in terms of things to look at. You’re in a non-descript forest and then a desert region that all looks the same. Spike Jonze, taking a break from sophisticated head-spinners like “Being John Malkovich” and “Adaptation,” implements his usual trademark verité dazzle. The wildly untamed camera that jets and bumps around can be momentarily eye-popping.
Some movies prick you up and keep you alert. WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE is the kind of movie that makes you want to watch while spread out on the couch, lying sideways, and take it in like the little nibble comfort food it is. For that 1963 generation, nostalgia is fleeting.
GRADE: C+
A SERIOUS MAN
A SERIOUS MAN is not going to be considered a traditional entry in the Joel and Ethan Coen canon by some, and for certain there will be fans that are going to consider that a problem. Many followers dig them for their comedies that register rollicking surrealism, offbeat humor, and screwball nuttiness. If you’re one of those people that like the Coen Brothers for that, and nothing but that, you’re probably not going to like their latest work. There, it has been said so don’t say I didn’t tell you so. But if you’re one of these cinema connoisseurs always curious about the personal depths of idiosyncratic filmmakers (please read on), you might be the choice audience for this very peculiar film, which can be described as a very rare acquired taste.
The opening pre-credit prologue set a hundred years or something prior, which is disconnected from the rest of the film, is awful and nonsensical – the worst scene the Coens’ have ever directed (it's supposed to be a Yiddish folktale). Once the film finds a clean slate, the Coens’ are up to their necks in honoring, and satirizing, Jewish heritage in 1967 midwest suburbs. Adults are thriving orthodox followers or moral cowards, but the indifferent neighborhood of kids just wanna have fun. At Hebrew school, a boy’s transistor radio with Jefferson Airplane rock music is taken away from a school authority. This is the real start of the movie. It is soon followed by a student foreigner who tries to bribe his professor, only to supersede the situation with blackmail.
None of the actors are recognizable, as never has a Coen Brothers feature been so absent of stars (even their debut film “Blood Simple” had M. Emmet Walsh and Dan Hedaya). Theater actors and rarely seen character actors fill out the entire cast. Lead actor Michael Stuhlbarg, as professor Larry Gopnik, is a dull spineless mope until it dawns on you what a revelation the actor is to the part – he’s dull and spineless, but he’s a man who is desperate enough to want to ascend his failures. He is a serious, but brilliant man who wants to taste something from life that he can’t quite reach.
Throughout the movie, Larry is pitted against a litany of terrible plights and misfortunes: the agony of X-ray results, infringement of property lines, an upcoming tenure hearing that rings of looming disappointment, a car accident, an uncooperative TV antennae, and worst, news that his wife is leaving him for a neighbor Sy Ableman (Fred Melamed, a show-stopping ballsy performance). Sy is astonishingly ingratiating, barging into Larry’s home and offering his wisdom.
This is a very dry comedy, and you haven’t a clue on what dry comedy is, then you can see A SERIOUS MAN and learn as to what that’s like. Around the edges, a buzz of new problems always perpetuates, often with Larry adopting new problems against his willing. Sometimes the new problems come via external forces and sometimes it is family. Larry has a very loafish brother played by Richard Kind, likely the most recognizable face in the cast where you might think aloud “Where have I seen him?” Larry, on top of all his misery, has to cater to his unfortunate brother’s embarrassing secret that’s worthy of social ostracizing. In-between are visits to his lawyer and visits to his rabbi. It is part of the Coen deadpan humor that when he gets his rabbi counseling, it’s of a futile nature.
Even an erudite critic like me sometimes forgets about the Coens’ “The Man Who Wasn’t There,” which was their previous entry on the theme of the little man who gets stomped on. The Coens’ put you through the grinder, along with Larry, with their newest work which arrives at what initially feels like a frustrating and detached final punchline. That’s until you step back and consider that it’s Mother Nature intervening and dictating Larry’s destiny, a destiny where there is no way out but just to accept the fate that has been put in front of him. The black joke is that Larry will go down as the guy who gave way more than he ever received.
Food for thought is heavy in “A Serious Man,” and if you’re perceptive you can appreciate that it is personal for the Coens’ who have decorated their film with memories of their childhood atmosphere put right up on the screen. But I admit that I wouldn’t mind a light meal next time from the Coens’.
GRADE: B
The opening pre-credit prologue set a hundred years or something prior, which is disconnected from the rest of the film, is awful and nonsensical – the worst scene the Coens’ have ever directed (it's supposed to be a Yiddish folktale). Once the film finds a clean slate, the Coens’ are up to their necks in honoring, and satirizing, Jewish heritage in 1967 midwest suburbs. Adults are thriving orthodox followers or moral cowards, but the indifferent neighborhood of kids just wanna have fun. At Hebrew school, a boy’s transistor radio with Jefferson Airplane rock music is taken away from a school authority. This is the real start of the movie. It is soon followed by a student foreigner who tries to bribe his professor, only to supersede the situation with blackmail.
None of the actors are recognizable, as never has a Coen Brothers feature been so absent of stars (even their debut film “Blood Simple” had M. Emmet Walsh and Dan Hedaya). Theater actors and rarely seen character actors fill out the entire cast. Lead actor Michael Stuhlbarg, as professor Larry Gopnik, is a dull spineless mope until it dawns on you what a revelation the actor is to the part – he’s dull and spineless, but he’s a man who is desperate enough to want to ascend his failures. He is a serious, but brilliant man who wants to taste something from life that he can’t quite reach.
Throughout the movie, Larry is pitted against a litany of terrible plights and misfortunes: the agony of X-ray results, infringement of property lines, an upcoming tenure hearing that rings of looming disappointment, a car accident, an uncooperative TV antennae, and worst, news that his wife is leaving him for a neighbor Sy Ableman (Fred Melamed, a show-stopping ballsy performance). Sy is astonishingly ingratiating, barging into Larry’s home and offering his wisdom.
This is a very dry comedy, and you haven’t a clue on what dry comedy is, then you can see A SERIOUS MAN and learn as to what that’s like. Around the edges, a buzz of new problems always perpetuates, often with Larry adopting new problems against his willing. Sometimes the new problems come via external forces and sometimes it is family. Larry has a very loafish brother played by Richard Kind, likely the most recognizable face in the cast where you might think aloud “Where have I seen him?” Larry, on top of all his misery, has to cater to his unfortunate brother’s embarrassing secret that’s worthy of social ostracizing. In-between are visits to his lawyer and visits to his rabbi. It is part of the Coen deadpan humor that when he gets his rabbi counseling, it’s of a futile nature.
Even an erudite critic like me sometimes forgets about the Coens’ “The Man Who Wasn’t There,” which was their previous entry on the theme of the little man who gets stomped on. The Coens’ put you through the grinder, along with Larry, with their newest work which arrives at what initially feels like a frustrating and detached final punchline. That’s until you step back and consider that it’s Mother Nature intervening and dictating Larry’s destiny, a destiny where there is no way out but just to accept the fate that has been put in front of him. The black joke is that Larry will go down as the guy who gave way more than he ever received.
Food for thought is heavy in “A Serious Man,” and if you’re perceptive you can appreciate that it is personal for the Coens’ who have decorated their film with memories of their childhood atmosphere put right up on the screen. But I admit that I wouldn’t mind a light meal next time from the Coens’.
GRADE: B
2012
Tremendous special effects duke it out with stupid characterizations in 2012, a movie less concerned with Mayan theology than with putting on a thrill ride featuring 1,001 close calls. Massive destruction is caught with wide-angle shots and aerial shots that were made with seamless composites by a heavily geared special effects team, of course, director Roland Emmerich of “Independence Day” fame as the commandant. What Emmerich is a master of is composing fragment shots of debris and wreckage flying at the camera. Armageddon-disaster movie is his specialty, so is staging an ensemble of movie stars who narrowly dodge record-breaking earthquakes and volcanic eruptions with poise and ease.
Matters of enjoyment come down to how much you can tolerate ham-fisted dialogue and impossible contrived situations. When the end of the world is near, for instance, do you really risk your life and the lives of others to collect your poodle? Or how about planes taking off on broken asphalt runway? Emmerich, who brings tsunami disaster to India with the same large scale pluck as he does turning Los Angeles and Yellowstone Park into a ferocious volcano, is happy to go ’round the world to depict catastrophe. He also goes to China to introduce us to Buddhists and their wisdom, but there, he supplies them trite lines of pseudo-wisdom.
As the representing common man, John Cusack plays a family man fortuitous enough to break the odds, travelling from Los Angeles to China, specifically to a Far East haven, with what is either genius or luck. Only a few hundred-thousand on the entire planet have a ticket to board “the ship,” the only exodus available. The ticket-holders are the rich, the ones that could afford to live on while everyone else worth less than a billion dollars will not be spared. Danny Glover as the President of the United States chooses to accept his exit with timeliness, imparting compassion for the citizens doomed.
Big chunks of the film are preposterously entertaining, and anybody remotely impressed by special effects will not be bored. Did I mention Woody Harrelson plays a bearded nutjob deejay who isn’t so much a nutjob after his predictions come true at Yellowstone? Did I mention that Chiwetel Ejiofor as the head scientist and Thandie Newton as the first daughter of the United States are the most attractive, and brainiest two of the film? Or how about Oliver Platt as the dispassionate chief of staff who doesn’t care much if his mother perishes? The dialogue for this genre, as corny as it is, has improved since the “Airport” and “Towering Inferno” disaster movie days of the ’70’s. Staying relational and in-the-moment, it can be simplistic and broad dialogue but at least it is always conscious of its surroundings.
The film has its share of oversights and peculiarities. In the Los Angeles destruction scenes, we get loads of shots of buildings and vehicles battered to smithereens but there are never any people in the shots. When Cusack’s plane flies overhead the whole earth is collapsing but Emmerich forgot to put human bodies in there. I suppose that’s cleaner for the family audience. At 2 hours and 37 minutes, the insinuation that billions of people will be doomed but can be swallowed easier when there are less people in the frame. Cusack also drives miraculously fast through non-traffic Los Angeles, a city with a clichéd amount of palm trees. I also chuckled aloud during all the references to Wisconsin, particularly when two former out-of-shape Wisconsin people who look like they have built a steady diet on McDonald’s food could seem to afford a beachfront in pricey Manhattan Beach.
Aboard the ship in the conclusion, some of the survivors don’t look like rich people but rather an average looking cast of extras who appear like they came from the middle class, but that observation is a judgment call. Also an oversight on how there seems to be twenty men to every female – in Stanley Kubrick’s disaster black comedy “Dr. Strangelove” the president is consulted that to rebuild the human species after Armageddon there should be ten females to every male. Talk about expanded screenplay wit for a 1964 classic.
2012 is what it is. I found the disaster stuff fun for awhile until I could no longer tolerate its banality. Despite that, I was never bored (just annoyed). But if you are going to see 2012 now or later, see it now on the big screen where the big scale disaster pieces can be enjoyed to its maximum.
GRADE: C+
Matters of enjoyment come down to how much you can tolerate ham-fisted dialogue and impossible contrived situations. When the end of the world is near, for instance, do you really risk your life and the lives of others to collect your poodle? Or how about planes taking off on broken asphalt runway? Emmerich, who brings tsunami disaster to India with the same large scale pluck as he does turning Los Angeles and Yellowstone Park into a ferocious volcano, is happy to go ’round the world to depict catastrophe. He also goes to China to introduce us to Buddhists and their wisdom, but there, he supplies them trite lines of pseudo-wisdom.
As the representing common man, John Cusack plays a family man fortuitous enough to break the odds, travelling from Los Angeles to China, specifically to a Far East haven, with what is either genius or luck. Only a few hundred-thousand on the entire planet have a ticket to board “the ship,” the only exodus available. The ticket-holders are the rich, the ones that could afford to live on while everyone else worth less than a billion dollars will not be spared. Danny Glover as the President of the United States chooses to accept his exit with timeliness, imparting compassion for the citizens doomed.
Big chunks of the film are preposterously entertaining, and anybody remotely impressed by special effects will not be bored. Did I mention Woody Harrelson plays a bearded nutjob deejay who isn’t so much a nutjob after his predictions come true at Yellowstone? Did I mention that Chiwetel Ejiofor as the head scientist and Thandie Newton as the first daughter of the United States are the most attractive, and brainiest two of the film? Or how about Oliver Platt as the dispassionate chief of staff who doesn’t care much if his mother perishes? The dialogue for this genre, as corny as it is, has improved since the “Airport” and “Towering Inferno” disaster movie days of the ’70’s. Staying relational and in-the-moment, it can be simplistic and broad dialogue but at least it is always conscious of its surroundings.
The film has its share of oversights and peculiarities. In the Los Angeles destruction scenes, we get loads of shots of buildings and vehicles battered to smithereens but there are never any people in the shots. When Cusack’s plane flies overhead the whole earth is collapsing but Emmerich forgot to put human bodies in there. I suppose that’s cleaner for the family audience. At 2 hours and 37 minutes, the insinuation that billions of people will be doomed but can be swallowed easier when there are less people in the frame. Cusack also drives miraculously fast through non-traffic Los Angeles, a city with a clichéd amount of palm trees. I also chuckled aloud during all the references to Wisconsin, particularly when two former out-of-shape Wisconsin people who look like they have built a steady diet on McDonald’s food could seem to afford a beachfront in pricey Manhattan Beach.
Aboard the ship in the conclusion, some of the survivors don’t look like rich people but rather an average looking cast of extras who appear like they came from the middle class, but that observation is a judgment call. Also an oversight on how there seems to be twenty men to every female – in Stanley Kubrick’s disaster black comedy “Dr. Strangelove” the president is consulted that to rebuild the human species after Armageddon there should be ten females to every male. Talk about expanded screenplay wit for a 1964 classic.
2012 is what it is. I found the disaster stuff fun for awhile until I could no longer tolerate its banality. Despite that, I was never bored (just annoyed). But if you are going to see 2012 now or later, see it now on the big screen where the big scale disaster pieces can be enjoyed to its maximum.
GRADE: C+
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