Long in existence, A CHRISTMAS CAROL has been played out in a number of varying budget film productions but thanks to Robert Zemeckis this is probably the most expensive, and thus, it is visually spectacular. Even if you are not an expert on Charles Dickens’ 1843 tale, you can clearly estimate which parts have been updated and freshened for a new generation, and for the most part, Zemeckis’ instincts are right on. Yet is it sacrilegious to say that some of the elements, old and new, are a tad repetitive? Regardless, the dazzling sights and sounds are aplenty, and the opening title sequence where the camera flies over the architecture of London, is exhilarating to the point that it gets you peppy for the holidays. Good cheer.
Of course, the fantastic whizzing camera with this much speed and dexterity is only possible because the movie is a factory blend of live action and animation. This is Zemeckis’ third attempt with this device of “performance capture” where actors’ body movements are transformed and interspersed into an animated world. A CHRISTMAS CAROL is the most successful of Zemeckis’ animated attempts, not because he has perfected his technique greater than before but because the story is much better than the ones for “The Polar Express” and “Beowulf.” Zemeckis has always been an indisputable technical genius even back when he was in “live action.” But let us not forget that while “Forrest Gump” was a technical triumph it was a much better movie than “Death Becomes Her” which ran previous to his multiple Oscar winner, which was a technical triumph as well but a bummer of a story.
Ebenezer Scrooge is the ultimate bummer of a protagonist, the kind of man who gives no hours off for his employees for good behavior nor does he spend money on his office heating system (how much could coal really cost?). The inflection and affections of Jim Carrey’s voice as Scrooge is startlingly effective, either it’s a great Carrey performance or a great sound editing job, or perhaps, a little bit of both. But how about that animation again? Those deep wrinkles in Scrooge’s face are so authentic looking in their mild crevasses. Okay, maybe it is true in Zemeckis’ latest that the human faces are more real and less rubbery this time. Yet let’s forget the technical work. The reason we care anyway is in hope that Scrooge elongates that facial tension enough to smile again, smile wide and rejoice in Christmas spirit, and drop that humbug business. It is an ideal story that begins as a bummer but reaches for rebirth for Scrooge, and audience uplift.
Supernatural forces haunt Scrooge on Christmas Eve as the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Christmas Yet to Come arrive in order to show him the meaning of Christmas, alas, the meaning of life. The Ghost of Past is the most essential of the plot stages as Scrooge gets another look at the happiness of his youth before he gave it up for sake of propriety. The rest of the movie is just as familiar if repetitive (briefly a drag), and it’s not hard to guess that Scrooge can redeem his own soul by saving another life. Life-affirming message aside, it is really about the whooshing visual dynamics that Zemeckis brings to this oft-told tale (the excess carriage crashes are a bit much), and in spite of that, the cycles of Scrooge’s journeys gets a little long.
Zemeckis has gotten lost in too much spectacle before, but this time he gets things balanced in digestible moderation. Just when you thought you have been over-wowed, i.e., overfed with enough f/x, you get Carrey putting on the grouch-charm that he’s so good at doing and you feel love for Carrey as a performer. The clever turns by Colin Firth and Gary Oldman warm the cockles of your heart (forgive holiday journalist mushiness). As implied, the special effects are occasionally too battering, Zemeckis is a wizard who never seems to believe he should put down his magic wand. But to a contrasting degree, Zemeckis channels his special effects also to an endearing effect when story permits. Too much explanation on the endearing effects would be spoiling, if not untranslatable anyway to the written word, so go see for yourself.
Would Dickens ever guessed that in future generations his work would get a rollercoaster for an adaptation? Would he have marveled at the special effects? Let’s hope so, because they are really good and you would think Dickens was a man of humor, mirth and gratitude. Would Dickens be pleased that the spirit of his work is intact? Legend has it he hastily wrote this holiday classic simply as a means to pay the bills. But yep, the ending is heart-thumping in all the right ways. Here’s another question: Will Robert Zemeckis, with his larger than life storytelling abilities, be as famous as Charles Dickens one hundred years from now? Likely he will as long as there are still Netflix users in existence.
GRADE: B+
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
THE BOX
THE BOX might remind you why you love suspense and hate suspense at the same time. Richard Kelly’s film keeps you in suspense until you are pleading with it to tell you more. But you may hate it because you are wondering if the damn this is ever going to pay off. After awhile you get the sense that Kelly’s film is going to be one of those ambiguous ones, and certainly ambiguity is one of those trademarks that a genuine cinephile can enjoy. But the mind-teasing conundrum of this uncommonly weird studio movie teeters dangerously to the point of not wanting it to be so damn ambiguous.
This strange disfigured man in a black coat shows up at the door. He delivers a box with a glass dome lid covering a big red button. Arthur and Norma Lewis (James Marsden and Cameron Diaz) have 24 hours to decide whether to push the button. If they do, they will inherit $1 million dollars tax free. But elsewhere in the world someone random they do not know will die as a result. The two of them never seem to ask the right questions about the box and its circumstances until after stranger Arlington Steward (Frank Langella) has left.
The Virginia couple, of this 1976 setting, complains about finances but lives in such a nice house that you have to assume that they are living wealthily just beyond their means of income. Arthur is an optics designer for NASA and Norma is a respectable teacher. But things could be better just like things could be better for any person belonging to the human race. They argue whether the box is a hoax, a prank. They also muster reasons as to why all that money will solve their problems for now as well as for the rest of their life. Which one of them will end up pushing the button?
So here’s this Richard Kelly guy, the writer-director, who previously made such idiosyncratic sci-fi as “Donnie Darko” and “Southland Tales.” He creates a number of visual motifs such as secondary characters bleeding from the nose and stone-like faces staring at the Lewis’ from afar. He is a director obsessed with portals – when a character must guess the gateway to “salvation” or to “damnation” you might be confounded by which entrance was chosen. This is a director that not only quotes Jean-Paul Sarte and Arthur C. Clarke, but constructs a homage reminiscent to the final scenes of “2001: A Space Odyssey” while he’s at it. The imagery is startling and breathtaking, and then sometimes just nonsensically weird. What’s with the warehouse with a walk line of white lights actually leading to?
Strip away the spooky, cryptic elements and you have two fairly good lead performances by Marsden and Diaz bringing the right amount of guilt and vulnerability to their performances. Langella, as the sinister puppeteer, does an exceptionally good job in delivering his dialogue with equal measures of persuasiveness and supremacy. He’s the kind of man who dodges matters and concerns of others with his ability to swing the dialogue his way. Then there is the briefcase full of money as a plot catalyst only to put the whole idea of money in the forgotten background. That’s the thing about movie characters receiving large sums of money they didn’t earn. Once they have it they don’t need it anymore. Good health is the highest basic priority, isn’t it?
THE BOX is adapted from a Richard Matheson short story “Button, Button” from long ago. The original Matheson story is simply an intriguing set up and then culminated by a wry punchline. It’s a story that can be read in about five minutes. Matheson was a great writer, but Kelly is as much a respectable talent (whether you like his work or not) and especially here where he had to do a lot of creating in order to expand and amplify Matheson’s miniaturized story to feature length. Kelly has such a gripping sense on science fiction that an example of his storytelling gift is when he concocts an indelibly imaginative subplot explanation on the reasons on how Norma’s foot was maimed during a freak occurrence in her teenage years.
Kelly’s movie however walks that tightrope between curiosity and tedium, and I was constantly hard-pressing to bridge the symbolism together. I honestly don’t know if I can say I liked the movie or not until I see it again. But the fact that I want to see it again says something, right? If you have the same kind of gravitation towards ambiguous puzzle movies then you might just want to put up a fight to see THE BOX What a weird movie. Big-budget studio movies are rarely this weird.
GRADE: B-
This strange disfigured man in a black coat shows up at the door. He delivers a box with a glass dome lid covering a big red button. Arthur and Norma Lewis (James Marsden and Cameron Diaz) have 24 hours to decide whether to push the button. If they do, they will inherit $1 million dollars tax free. But elsewhere in the world someone random they do not know will die as a result. The two of them never seem to ask the right questions about the box and its circumstances until after stranger Arlington Steward (Frank Langella) has left.
The Virginia couple, of this 1976 setting, complains about finances but lives in such a nice house that you have to assume that they are living wealthily just beyond their means of income. Arthur is an optics designer for NASA and Norma is a respectable teacher. But things could be better just like things could be better for any person belonging to the human race. They argue whether the box is a hoax, a prank. They also muster reasons as to why all that money will solve their problems for now as well as for the rest of their life. Which one of them will end up pushing the button?
So here’s this Richard Kelly guy, the writer-director, who previously made such idiosyncratic sci-fi as “Donnie Darko” and “Southland Tales.” He creates a number of visual motifs such as secondary characters bleeding from the nose and stone-like faces staring at the Lewis’ from afar. He is a director obsessed with portals – when a character must guess the gateway to “salvation” or to “damnation” you might be confounded by which entrance was chosen. This is a director that not only quotes Jean-Paul Sarte and Arthur C. Clarke, but constructs a homage reminiscent to the final scenes of “2001: A Space Odyssey” while he’s at it. The imagery is startling and breathtaking, and then sometimes just nonsensically weird. What’s with the warehouse with a walk line of white lights actually leading to?
Strip away the spooky, cryptic elements and you have two fairly good lead performances by Marsden and Diaz bringing the right amount of guilt and vulnerability to their performances. Langella, as the sinister puppeteer, does an exceptionally good job in delivering his dialogue with equal measures of persuasiveness and supremacy. He’s the kind of man who dodges matters and concerns of others with his ability to swing the dialogue his way. Then there is the briefcase full of money as a plot catalyst only to put the whole idea of money in the forgotten background. That’s the thing about movie characters receiving large sums of money they didn’t earn. Once they have it they don’t need it anymore. Good health is the highest basic priority, isn’t it?
THE BOX is adapted from a Richard Matheson short story “Button, Button” from long ago. The original Matheson story is simply an intriguing set up and then culminated by a wry punchline. It’s a story that can be read in about five minutes. Matheson was a great writer, but Kelly is as much a respectable talent (whether you like his work or not) and especially here where he had to do a lot of creating in order to expand and amplify Matheson’s miniaturized story to feature length. Kelly has such a gripping sense on science fiction that an example of his storytelling gift is when he concocts an indelibly imaginative subplot explanation on the reasons on how Norma’s foot was maimed during a freak occurrence in her teenage years.
Kelly’s movie however walks that tightrope between curiosity and tedium, and I was constantly hard-pressing to bridge the symbolism together. I honestly don’t know if I can say I liked the movie or not until I see it again. But the fact that I want to see it again says something, right? If you have the same kind of gravitation towards ambiguous puzzle movies then you might just want to put up a fight to see THE BOX What a weird movie. Big-budget studio movies are rarely this weird.
GRADE: B-
PIRATE RADIO
A movie called PIRATE RADIO which actually looks like it was filmed on a pirate ship, and to its detriment, goes for the handheld camera and choppy edits way too often. It’s Britain of the 1960’s, the days of The Beatles and The Rolling Stones, and so many other milestone artists. There are nearly 60 songs on the soundtrack, all played in brief interludes. But what groovy moments do these songs certainly create.
Sit back long enough and this Richard Curtis film will grow on you. It could inspire the same kind of appreciation for classic rock that “High Fidelity” and “Almost Famous” did, albeit to a lesser degree, and it features a boisterous foul-mouthed cast. Philip Seymour Hoffman, as the one American, is a DJ who in the early scenes pronounces he is going to use the F-word on the air for the very first time. He burns the tolerance of station owner and ship captain Quentin (Bill Nighy) to such a degree that Quentin ends up saying the most F-words. On the air.
These guys will broadcast anything, even a wedding that comes to board where Simon and his ugly British overbite (Chris O’Dowd) is marrying a spectacularly hot chick (January Jones) who may want him merely for convenience. Teenage Carl (Tom Sturridge) spent his earliest years in an all-boys school and is looking to lose his virginity, something that can also be broadcast in good fun except that Thick Kevin (Tom Brooke) steals away his opportunities. The very mod Gavin (Rhys Ifans) behaves the way Austin Powers would behave on the radio waves, he doesn’t need inspiration but himself and maybe a reference to his zipper.
Curtis' latest film is full of fast-paced and bouncy episodes, and it’s countered by stateside drama with Kenneth Branagh as a government minister who intends to shut the rogue station down. The extreme of how humorless his character is by turns funny, especially in contrast of the anything-goes attitude of our central cream of characters. Some may not like the fact that the film is full of musical montages, and cutaways to grooved-out radio listeners everywhere, but because it celebrates rock, I happen to like all of the musical-dramatic montages. I especially liked the way The Kinks’ “All Day and All of the Night” was used in its romantic-dramatic play-out, and one of my all-time favorite songs, “A Whiter Shade of Pale” by Procol Harum, is played loud and stirringly during a scene of ship over-flooding until the song is cut in half.
All of the playful, hip people are listening to this rogue station because the legitimate stations of that time were not allowed to play Rock. The “Pirate” gang are crusaders, they are revolutionaries, and so they are smitten with themselves. Every week a ship of girls docks with them, they are fans and they are grateful fans, the kind that arrived at a “historical” time of peace and free love. If some of the film is far-fetched, it still works because it perpetuates the outrageously upbeat myth that the 60’s was a watershed happening time.
GRADE: B
Sit back long enough and this Richard Curtis film will grow on you. It could inspire the same kind of appreciation for classic rock that “High Fidelity” and “Almost Famous” did, albeit to a lesser degree, and it features a boisterous foul-mouthed cast. Philip Seymour Hoffman, as the one American, is a DJ who in the early scenes pronounces he is going to use the F-word on the air for the very first time. He burns the tolerance of station owner and ship captain Quentin (Bill Nighy) to such a degree that Quentin ends up saying the most F-words. On the air.
These guys will broadcast anything, even a wedding that comes to board where Simon and his ugly British overbite (Chris O’Dowd) is marrying a spectacularly hot chick (January Jones) who may want him merely for convenience. Teenage Carl (Tom Sturridge) spent his earliest years in an all-boys school and is looking to lose his virginity, something that can also be broadcast in good fun except that Thick Kevin (Tom Brooke) steals away his opportunities. The very mod Gavin (Rhys Ifans) behaves the way Austin Powers would behave on the radio waves, he doesn’t need inspiration but himself and maybe a reference to his zipper.
Curtis' latest film is full of fast-paced and bouncy episodes, and it’s countered by stateside drama with Kenneth Branagh as a government minister who intends to shut the rogue station down. The extreme of how humorless his character is by turns funny, especially in contrast of the anything-goes attitude of our central cream of characters. Some may not like the fact that the film is full of musical montages, and cutaways to grooved-out radio listeners everywhere, but because it celebrates rock, I happen to like all of the musical-dramatic montages. I especially liked the way The Kinks’ “All Day and All of the Night” was used in its romantic-dramatic play-out, and one of my all-time favorite songs, “A Whiter Shade of Pale” by Procol Harum, is played loud and stirringly during a scene of ship over-flooding until the song is cut in half.
All of the playful, hip people are listening to this rogue station because the legitimate stations of that time were not allowed to play Rock. The “Pirate” gang are crusaders, they are revolutionaries, and so they are smitten with themselves. Every week a ship of girls docks with them, they are fans and they are grateful fans, the kind that arrived at a “historical” time of peace and free love. If some of the film is far-fetched, it still works because it perpetuates the outrageously upbeat myth that the 60’s was a watershed happening time.
GRADE: B
THE TWILIGHT SAGE: NEW MOON
NEW MOON is two hours plus of Bella (Kristen Stewart) resisting kissing another guy other than Edward (Robert Pattinson). The story requires her to act ashamed or withdrawn time and time again, and when she makes a “suicide attempt” you want to smack your forehead. This time Jacob (Taylor Lautner) wants to be her hunky caretaker, and if you’ve read the book, you probably know before I did that he has a secret that makes him, you know, the opposite of Edward. Why do these guys feel so protective over this very sulky girl?
For reasons explained later, Edward deserts from the town Forks to fulfill an obligation, thus, breaking Bella’s heart in what is one of the few good dialogue scenes. He reappears in a mist, an awful repetitive special effect, and Bella of course can’t figure out by the fifth time that he’s not really there – it’s only a mist! And when you talk back to the mist it appears to others that you are really talking to yourself!
At the risk of sounding presumptuous I am starting to really get tired of Kristen Stewart who seems to be twitching her eyebrows (in despair? in self-pity? in angst?) through every damn scene in the movie. Has she made a movie yet where she doesn’t bring her bag of moody facial tics to the screen? In the first movie it made sense that her character arrives to a new town, not knowing anybody, afraid that she wasn’t going to fit in, etc. But even surrounded by a crowd of friends on her birthday she does the eyebrow twitching thing, and the sulky thing with her mouth.
A year ago I actually wrote a marginal positive review for the first “Twilight” which I liked on the grounds of using the vampire context as a metaphor for the subculture of high school outsiders. Following the early scenes, Bella and everyone else stops going to school. What you get is never-ending soap opera-ish scenes of boys and girls having trouble expressing their feelings for each other. Is there anything more dull than observing the indecisiveness of a girl like Kristen Stewart, eh, Bella? Jacob is told by Bella that he is beautiful. Which leads to one close call in surrendering inhibitions: a near-kiss interrupted by a ringing telephone.
We also get a scene of Bella inviting trouble to herself by hopping on the back of a motorcycle with a local hoodlum, assuming that Edward will return to save her, but only negatively reaffirms that she is willing to put herself in a vulnerable situation where she can be attacked. Not just by one hoodlum but by a gang of them. Never mind. I’ll leave that one alone. But I will mention that yeah, Edward’s mist shows up.
Yes, I liked the original “Twilight” but a little of this goes a long way, and anymore of this stuff is vaporous. Are we really fooling ourselves by branding this is anything more than a Tween Vampire Flick? I am left thankful that, praise the Lord for some sophistication, Chan-wook Park’s “Thirst” and Tomas Alfredson’s “Let the Right One In” have delivered potent vampire thrills in recent times.
GRADE: D+
For reasons explained later, Edward deserts from the town Forks to fulfill an obligation, thus, breaking Bella’s heart in what is one of the few good dialogue scenes. He reappears in a mist, an awful repetitive special effect, and Bella of course can’t figure out by the fifth time that he’s not really there – it’s only a mist! And when you talk back to the mist it appears to others that you are really talking to yourself!
At the risk of sounding presumptuous I am starting to really get tired of Kristen Stewart who seems to be twitching her eyebrows (in despair? in self-pity? in angst?) through every damn scene in the movie. Has she made a movie yet where she doesn’t bring her bag of moody facial tics to the screen? In the first movie it made sense that her character arrives to a new town, not knowing anybody, afraid that she wasn’t going to fit in, etc. But even surrounded by a crowd of friends on her birthday she does the eyebrow twitching thing, and the sulky thing with her mouth.
A year ago I actually wrote a marginal positive review for the first “Twilight” which I liked on the grounds of using the vampire context as a metaphor for the subculture of high school outsiders. Following the early scenes, Bella and everyone else stops going to school. What you get is never-ending soap opera-ish scenes of boys and girls having trouble expressing their feelings for each other. Is there anything more dull than observing the indecisiveness of a girl like Kristen Stewart, eh, Bella? Jacob is told by Bella that he is beautiful. Which leads to one close call in surrendering inhibitions: a near-kiss interrupted by a ringing telephone.
We also get a scene of Bella inviting trouble to herself by hopping on the back of a motorcycle with a local hoodlum, assuming that Edward will return to save her, but only negatively reaffirms that she is willing to put herself in a vulnerable situation where she can be attacked. Not just by one hoodlum but by a gang of them. Never mind. I’ll leave that one alone. But I will mention that yeah, Edward’s mist shows up.
Yes, I liked the original “Twilight” but a little of this goes a long way, and anymore of this stuff is vaporous. Are we really fooling ourselves by branding this is anything more than a Tween Vampire Flick? I am left thankful that, praise the Lord for some sophistication, Chan-wook Park’s “Thirst” and Tomas Alfredson’s “Let the Right One In” have delivered potent vampire thrills in recent times.
GRADE: D+
PLANET 51
Planet 51 is towards the bottom when it comes to recent animated releases. It tells the story of an astronaut crash-landing on an alien planet where the aliens are green and cute, and also reminiscent in behavior to earthlings from the 1950’s. The indicator that it’s like the 1950’s USA is that there are lots of white-picket fences, gardening tending, moms wearing aprons, and some golden oldies pop references. Except it’s not Earth, it’s an alien planet, get it?
The crasher from the sky is Captain Chuck Baker (voiced by Dwayne Johnson) who is weirded out by all those green creatures. But the green creatures are just, you know, normal. Let’s jump ahead and let it be known that the action is very generic. When Captain Baker and Lem (Justin Long) first meet, they both freak, run the opposite direction up onto a staircase that meets in the middle, and they smack into each other. When Captain Baker is surrounded by authorities at a later time, he sneaks out the back door. The zenith in creativity are the dome-bubble cars that run through town, they look like halfway the work of Andrew Stanton.
This is really Lem’s story, for he is a nerdy astronomical observer whom in his beginnings tells his planetarium audience that the universe is a “couple of hundred miles wide.” Captain Baker isn’t just his friend, he’s his new source in space information that tells him of the limitless galaxy. Let’s now make room for new introductions. There is also a cute girl (Jessica Biel) who is non-violent resistant whom Lem is trying to impress. There is a villain and he’s played by General Grawl (Gary Oldman) who is on a sweep and destroy mission for Captain Baker’s blood. Let it be known that not even Gary Oldman does a lot with his part. Stealing the scene is a “Wall-E” type of miniature robot, assisting the Captain, participates in the movie’s major sight gags.
The spaceship to return Captain Baker is heavily guarded so the two of them, and maybe a few other friends, have to figure out a way to get Baker back up into space without being chased by General Grawl’s men. The military forces are, of course, incompetent and prone to shooting themselves. Visual jokes are just as lazy as the dialogue-driven jokes.
You could pat “Planet 51” on the back for coming up with lots of references to past movies, starting with “War of the Worlds” within the first scene. Despite all efforts, Steven Spielberg and George Lucas are unlikely to have much of a hardy har-har with this one. This may perhaps be a good movie for ages 7 to 8½, but I will have to confess. I laughed zero times at this movie. And worse, I smiled zero times. Although there’s a chance I would have enjoyed it more if I had a 7-year old sitting next to me so I could explain the jokes, and the non-jokes, to someone.
GRADE: D+
The crasher from the sky is Captain Chuck Baker (voiced by Dwayne Johnson) who is weirded out by all those green creatures. But the green creatures are just, you know, normal. Let’s jump ahead and let it be known that the action is very generic. When Captain Baker and Lem (Justin Long) first meet, they both freak, run the opposite direction up onto a staircase that meets in the middle, and they smack into each other. When Captain Baker is surrounded by authorities at a later time, he sneaks out the back door. The zenith in creativity are the dome-bubble cars that run through town, they look like halfway the work of Andrew Stanton.
This is really Lem’s story, for he is a nerdy astronomical observer whom in his beginnings tells his planetarium audience that the universe is a “couple of hundred miles wide.” Captain Baker isn’t just his friend, he’s his new source in space information that tells him of the limitless galaxy. Let’s now make room for new introductions. There is also a cute girl (Jessica Biel) who is non-violent resistant whom Lem is trying to impress. There is a villain and he’s played by General Grawl (Gary Oldman) who is on a sweep and destroy mission for Captain Baker’s blood. Let it be known that not even Gary Oldman does a lot with his part. Stealing the scene is a “Wall-E” type of miniature robot, assisting the Captain, participates in the movie’s major sight gags.
The spaceship to return Captain Baker is heavily guarded so the two of them, and maybe a few other friends, have to figure out a way to get Baker back up into space without being chased by General Grawl’s men. The military forces are, of course, incompetent and prone to shooting themselves. Visual jokes are just as lazy as the dialogue-driven jokes.
You could pat “Planet 51” on the back for coming up with lots of references to past movies, starting with “War of the Worlds” within the first scene. Despite all efforts, Steven Spielberg and George Lucas are unlikely to have much of a hardy har-har with this one. This may perhaps be a good movie for ages 7 to 8½, but I will have to confess. I laughed zero times at this movie. And worse, I smiled zero times. Although there’s a chance I would have enjoyed it more if I had a 7-year old sitting next to me so I could explain the jokes, and the non-jokes, to someone.
GRADE: D+
BAD LIEUTENANT: PORT OF CALL NEW ORLEANS
Following the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans, Nicolas Cage’s Terence McDonagh goes into a serious tailspin of drug abuse, not to mention corruption, in Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call, New Orleans. His most intimate relationship is with Eva Mendes as Frankie, a prostitute who still has her looks even though she snorts along with Terence. Somehow Terence gets his woman entangled with a murder and a drug sting, but that doesn’t stop Terence’s tumble into debasement. He harasses an old woman dependent on an oxygen tank, stacks on a gambling debt, does some salacious bargaining with a young woman caught with drugs, and raids the evidence room at headquarters. Harvey Keitel played this role seventeen years ago in a film with a slimmer and more condensed screenplay.
The new Bad Lieutenant is somehow not a remake, a sequel or an update to Abel Ferrara’s unforgettable 1992 film (rated NC-17) simply called “Bad Lieutenant.” They shouldn’t be compared, and yet somehow, you want to compare them. The first film is hypnotic, this new film gets stuck in plot-heavy sludge. Werner Herzog’s film is scattershot, a smorgasboard of superfluous storylines – many of them I didn’t care about. The last thing I wanted were a number of wispy scenes about the “big” case, a case I especially never cared about. There was also a big case in Ferrara’s film but somehow it had spiritually-challenging impact that felt integrated to what was going on in the Lieutenant’s inner life.
Understand that Herzog is one of the greatest. I still attest that “The Godfather” was not the best film of 1972, Herzog’s “Aguirre the Wrath of God” was and it remains one of the most breathtaking films ever made. Herzog has made another half dozen masterworks and an assorted amount of other good films in his career. But in this case, it is learned that Herzog should stay out of urban American movies. Herzog crafts some good scenes and mercilessly gazes at the dilapidated underbelly of a tattered city, but spliced between are a lot of forced encounters and synthetic melodrama hubbub.
The interconnecting end scenes are so bad that I was hoping it was a dream sequence. As an indicator of how unassured the project is, Herzog made an egregious error by thinking he needed to tie every thread of plot. This is the worst over-tidying Herzog has ever done. He has never not trusted his audience before, trusted that we can on our own connect the ambiguous parts together on our own.
I wanted the detective to revel in more bad behavior – the scene with Cage lambasting the pharmacist has believable stimulated aggression, and the aforementioned scenes demonstrate a powerful sordidness. But when Cage demonstrates his trademark facial vulnerability I felt like I was watching Cage channeling Jimmy Stewart on drugs. The more Cage goes over-the-top the better, and if anything, selected critic feedback has been wrong to accuse Cage of going over-the-top. I don’t think Herzog accepted the idea to let Cage go all the way to make his character unsavory.
Which goes back to Ferrara’s film. Now that we’ve seen another actor do this role it is more clear than ever that Harvey Keitel’s 1992 performance is one of the greatest we’ve had on-screen, and now that Cage has done the bad lieutenant walk, we know now how fearless Keitel really went with the part. One unsuccessful film proves the greatness of another.
GRADE: C
The new Bad Lieutenant is somehow not a remake, a sequel or an update to Abel Ferrara’s unforgettable 1992 film (rated NC-17) simply called “Bad Lieutenant.” They shouldn’t be compared, and yet somehow, you want to compare them. The first film is hypnotic, this new film gets stuck in plot-heavy sludge. Werner Herzog’s film is scattershot, a smorgasboard of superfluous storylines – many of them I didn’t care about. The last thing I wanted were a number of wispy scenes about the “big” case, a case I especially never cared about. There was also a big case in Ferrara’s film but somehow it had spiritually-challenging impact that felt integrated to what was going on in the Lieutenant’s inner life.
Understand that Herzog is one of the greatest. I still attest that “The Godfather” was not the best film of 1972, Herzog’s “Aguirre the Wrath of God” was and it remains one of the most breathtaking films ever made. Herzog has made another half dozen masterworks and an assorted amount of other good films in his career. But in this case, it is learned that Herzog should stay out of urban American movies. Herzog crafts some good scenes and mercilessly gazes at the dilapidated underbelly of a tattered city, but spliced between are a lot of forced encounters and synthetic melodrama hubbub.
The interconnecting end scenes are so bad that I was hoping it was a dream sequence. As an indicator of how unassured the project is, Herzog made an egregious error by thinking he needed to tie every thread of plot. This is the worst over-tidying Herzog has ever done. He has never not trusted his audience before, trusted that we can on our own connect the ambiguous parts together on our own.
I wanted the detective to revel in more bad behavior – the scene with Cage lambasting the pharmacist has believable stimulated aggression, and the aforementioned scenes demonstrate a powerful sordidness. But when Cage demonstrates his trademark facial vulnerability I felt like I was watching Cage channeling Jimmy Stewart on drugs. The more Cage goes over-the-top the better, and if anything, selected critic feedback has been wrong to accuse Cage of going over-the-top. I don’t think Herzog accepted the idea to let Cage go all the way to make his character unsavory.
Which goes back to Ferrara’s film. Now that we’ve seen another actor do this role it is more clear than ever that Harvey Keitel’s 1992 performance is one of the greatest we’ve had on-screen, and now that Cage has done the bad lieutenant walk, we know now how fearless Keitel really went with the part. One unsuccessful film proves the greatness of another.
GRADE: C
Saturday, November 21, 2009
PRECIOUS: BASED ON THE NOVEL 'PUSH' BY SAPPHIRE
Hard to recommend a movie where the protagonist is damned in hopelessness, but there must be reason to justify Precious: Based on the Novel ‘Push’ by Sapphire. Simply put, it is one of the great artistic achievements of the year. Now is where it is hard to find a way to inspire you to attend. For one, it is clear that director Lee Daniels has found ways to counter-measure its darkness by interspersing grace and acts of kindness into a bleak story.
The title character (played wrenchingly by Gabourey Sidibe) is a very obese 16-year old girl from Harlem who is told early on she can no longer attend high school after it is learned she is pregnant with her second child, both of them conceived out of consent. A school administrator expels her but makes a house visit to inform her that she can go to a private school for girls with special needs. On route she meets a social worker (Mariah Carey, de-glammed) and a teacher (Paula Patton) with infinite patience and willingness to make sure Precious gets the attention and tending that she needs. The girl can barely write or read. She barely musters the desire to speak, often living in her own silent and withdrawn world.
Her home life is a nightmare dwelling, lit in dank yellow light and enclosed by deteriorating wallpaper, and she’s hectored constantly by her mother Mary (Mo’Nique) to cook dinner for her. And re-cook another meal if the first one is wrong. The abusiveness goes beyond, including multiple scenes of Mom throwing things at Precious’ head. This is where it must be said that Mo’Nique, stretching from broad comedies like “Phat Girlz” and “Soul Plane” is a towering, monstrous presence. She is the Robert DeNiro of fat African-American actresses. Her performance is perhaps the equal of the great DeNiro performance of “This Boy’s Life” in which DeNiro also played an abusive stepfather.
One of the film’s elemental and uncompromising pledges is to make the Mom as oppressive, narcissistic and abusive as possible. By establishing this within Mo’Nique’s first scene, you root for Precious to gain the courage to transcend above her mother. She is only 16-years old but for her benefit, and ours, she must find a way to succeed which means moving out of the house and finding a life of independence. Asking that much of a 16-year old is, of course, a lot. You wonder to what lengthy degrees Mrs. Weiss and Ms. Rain, the social worker and teacher, are going to be able to help her. Mom wants her daughter strapped because her welfare checks depends on it. The film tracks Precious’ gathering awareness of where to search for autonomy.
But for every new discovery, such as the joy of being able to write a page in a journal and make it sound literate, Precious faces setbacks and hardships that faze her. Precious’ mentor and girlfriend support is there to help inspire her. She finally makes the awful, but desperate, confession of what kind of abuse she has endured at home. Her story is out, it’s off her chest, and she has friends to listen. The movie avoids in offering any easy solutions. Life is tough, life is a struggle, but a better life is now worth struggling for. Mom the tyrant is always around the corner to make attempts to weaken and suffocate her own daughter, that’s an obstacle that won’t go away too easy.
When Precious is smacked with her worst difficulties, director Daniels creates pop fantasy sequences to demonstrate how this girl wants to avoid her life, avoid facing decisions. Rarely have fantasy sequences worked so well in a movie – there’s one heartbreaking moment where Precious sees herself in the mirror as a thin Caucasian blonde. Here’s a girl that uses fantasies as a crutch, a solace retreat, the only place where she live grandiosely and without judgment. Daniels knows better than to revert to the cliché, he doesn’t evolve the fantasies into something “better” or more “practical.” There is nothing wrong with them for Precious, if that is what comforts her. But Daniels knows this is also the story of a girl who learns to live in reality, and how to survive among people. Not needing to live in withdrawal is the film’s first catharsis.
GRADE: A-
The title character (played wrenchingly by Gabourey Sidibe) is a very obese 16-year old girl from Harlem who is told early on she can no longer attend high school after it is learned she is pregnant with her second child, both of them conceived out of consent. A school administrator expels her but makes a house visit to inform her that she can go to a private school for girls with special needs. On route she meets a social worker (Mariah Carey, de-glammed) and a teacher (Paula Patton) with infinite patience and willingness to make sure Precious gets the attention and tending that she needs. The girl can barely write or read. She barely musters the desire to speak, often living in her own silent and withdrawn world.
Her home life is a nightmare dwelling, lit in dank yellow light and enclosed by deteriorating wallpaper, and she’s hectored constantly by her mother Mary (Mo’Nique) to cook dinner for her. And re-cook another meal if the first one is wrong. The abusiveness goes beyond, including multiple scenes of Mom throwing things at Precious’ head. This is where it must be said that Mo’Nique, stretching from broad comedies like “Phat Girlz” and “Soul Plane” is a towering, monstrous presence. She is the Robert DeNiro of fat African-American actresses. Her performance is perhaps the equal of the great DeNiro performance of “This Boy’s Life” in which DeNiro also played an abusive stepfather.
One of the film’s elemental and uncompromising pledges is to make the Mom as oppressive, narcissistic and abusive as possible. By establishing this within Mo’Nique’s first scene, you root for Precious to gain the courage to transcend above her mother. She is only 16-years old but for her benefit, and ours, she must find a way to succeed which means moving out of the house and finding a life of independence. Asking that much of a 16-year old is, of course, a lot. You wonder to what lengthy degrees Mrs. Weiss and Ms. Rain, the social worker and teacher, are going to be able to help her. Mom wants her daughter strapped because her welfare checks depends on it. The film tracks Precious’ gathering awareness of where to search for autonomy.
But for every new discovery, such as the joy of being able to write a page in a journal and make it sound literate, Precious faces setbacks and hardships that faze her. Precious’ mentor and girlfriend support is there to help inspire her. She finally makes the awful, but desperate, confession of what kind of abuse she has endured at home. Her story is out, it’s off her chest, and she has friends to listen. The movie avoids in offering any easy solutions. Life is tough, life is a struggle, but a better life is now worth struggling for. Mom the tyrant is always around the corner to make attempts to weaken and suffocate her own daughter, that’s an obstacle that won’t go away too easy.
When Precious is smacked with her worst difficulties, director Daniels creates pop fantasy sequences to demonstrate how this girl wants to avoid her life, avoid facing decisions. Rarely have fantasy sequences worked so well in a movie – there’s one heartbreaking moment where Precious sees herself in the mirror as a thin Caucasian blonde. Here’s a girl that uses fantasies as a crutch, a solace retreat, the only place where she live grandiosely and without judgment. Daniels knows better than to revert to the cliché, he doesn’t evolve the fantasies into something “better” or more “practical.” There is nothing wrong with them for Precious, if that is what comforts her. But Daniels knows this is also the story of a girl who learns to live in reality, and how to survive among people. Not needing to live in withdrawal is the film’s first catharsis.
GRADE: A-
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