My Favorite Films of 2014
This system for listing my favorites worked well for this video. I'll probably end up doing the same thing for 2015's video if I see enough movies to warrant it.
Sunday, February 8, 2015
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Sunday, September 28, 2014
NEW VIDEO!! CineMatt Reviews: About Cherry (On Flawed Protagonists)
VIDEO HERE!!!
It's been over a year in the making, but it's finally here! A review of one of the worst movies I've ever seen! Also, James Franco.
It's been over a year in the making, but it's finally here! A review of one of the worst movies I've ever seen! Also, James Franco.
Friday, August 1, 2014
Lucy Review: Embrace the Stupid
What do you get when you let Luc Besson's crazy imagination run rampant with zero restraints? Well, you get a half-baked, messy, measly fragment of a screenplay full of unfulfilled rumination on human existence and glorious displays of ludicrous acts that has enough filler in under 90 minutes to feel excessive. But, the thing is, I'm struggling to call Lucy a "bad" movie.
To give you an idea of what type of film this is, in the first 5 minutes alone, Lucy (Scarlett Johansson) is forced by handcuff by her boyfriend of one week (seriously) to deliver a briefcase full of synthetic drugs to a trafficking kingpin (Choi Min-sik, Oldboy himself). This opening scene lets us know right off the bat that we're in for something unorthodox, as it's completely littered with unsubtle, intrusive cuts to a cavewoman (seriously), a mouse nearing a mousetrap (seriously), and a cheetah hunting down a gazelle (seriously). By the end of this setup, Lucy becomes an unwilling drug mule and the synthetic drugs leak out into her bloodstream, causing her to access "more than 10% of her brain" (there aren't quotes big enough for that misappropriation of science) and escape to share her knowledge with the world.
Everything you'd rightfully assume would be a strike against Lucy, from flagrant pseudoscience to lack of pacing and tension, is present in the film, but there's something gleefully insane about this movie. It's a front-row seat to Besson's wildest fantasies without any guardrails. Or guiding mechanisms of any sort.
Most of the fun comes from seeing what egregious mockery of common sense will come next. From aberrations of gravity to fundamental misunderstandings of technology to control over other human beings, by the end of the film, you'll wonder if Besson even knows what a brain is. The dialogue swerves from mundane to gear-shiftingly jarring casual dusting-aways of someone's death and foreshadowings of events like the significance of a cavewoman (seriously) in a matter of seconds. Most spectacularly, though, is watching the film utterly disregard any notion of plot in its third act when Besson decides he wants to transform this action movie into something resembling 2001: A Space Oddysey. In truth, it's actually pretty fun watching this trainwreck.
Not all of the film's negatives are in the "so bad it's good" camp. Morgan Freeman is on autopilot in a minimal role that only exists to accelerate the film towards its breakneck finale. (For reference, the film barrels from 60% brain capacity to 100% in the span of 10 minutes.) The film lacks tension mainly because Lucy is such an unstoppable juggernaut and loses all sense of pacing and structure by the second act. Besson tries to muster up a moment of tension of the climax, but it comes off as ridiculous that, while Lucy is traveling through space and time to access every known moment that ever existed in the universe and uploading it to a single flash drive (seriously), she can't pull a gun away from Oh Dae-Su.
But the main issue is actually the character of Lucy and Johansson, who turns in a career-worst performance, trading in her nuanced personality in Her for (ironically) a robotic, inhuman personality and monotone delivery that makes her difficult to root for. I mean, this is the woman who, just mere months ago, infused a cold, ruthless alien serial killer with humanity in Under the Skin. And, in Lucy, she's essentially playing Abed Nadir with an encyclopedic mind and psychic powers, completely devoid of any emotion or sympathetic qualities. (The film tries to offer a bullshit explanation as to why Lucy's brain-gaining rids her of her emotions because apparently Besson didn't stop and realize that more access to the brain, were such a thing to exist, would result in more access to its segments that regulate emotions as well.)
Lucy doesn't even have a character arc, only a power arc that resembles an upwards parabolic curve. The film tries to give her a moment of humanity when she calls her mother, but it only serves to highlight the film's ludicrous dialogue as Lucy's listing of all the things she is newly aware of more closely resembles a monologue from an esoteric philosophizing stoner. What bothers me the most about her character is that, for all the powers and abilities at her fingertips, Lucy is not a strong female protagonist because she lacks any sort of personality or nuance. There are a total of three scenes in the film where we get any sort of peek into her life before this event, but they all seem like such afterthoughts that it ultimately amounts to nothing.
She's also, for lack of a better term, kind of a dick. She shoots a taxi driver in the leg simply because he doesn't speak English, triggers a traumatic memory of the death of a potential ally's daughter in order to convince him of her powers, and kills an innocent person on an operating table without consulting the surgeons because she sees that his/her condition is incurable. While the film is, at its best, gleefully ignorant of all possible consequences and constantly in the moment, at its worst, it's an unawarely ugly and reprehensible display of a psychotic criminal doing as much harm as she is good.
Otherwise, Lucy is a film very much in the moment, one that I found equally terrible and fun, but one that I probably won't think much of in the coming weeks nor can recommend wholeheartedly. It's definitely something that I feel is worth watching once, but I can't vouch for the whether it should be seen in a theater (unless you get one with people laughing along with you at the ridiculousness happening on screen). But, hey, if Scarlett Johansson shooting laser beams out of her mouth like Ghidorah is your thing, knock yourself out.
To give you an idea of what type of film this is, in the first 5 minutes alone, Lucy (Scarlett Johansson) is forced by handcuff by her boyfriend of one week (seriously) to deliver a briefcase full of synthetic drugs to a trafficking kingpin (Choi Min-sik, Oldboy himself). This opening scene lets us know right off the bat that we're in for something unorthodox, as it's completely littered with unsubtle, intrusive cuts to a cavewoman (seriously), a mouse nearing a mousetrap (seriously), and a cheetah hunting down a gazelle (seriously). By the end of this setup, Lucy becomes an unwilling drug mule and the synthetic drugs leak out into her bloodstream, causing her to access "more than 10% of her brain" (there aren't quotes big enough for that misappropriation of science) and escape to share her knowledge with the world.
Everything you'd rightfully assume would be a strike against Lucy, from flagrant pseudoscience to lack of pacing and tension, is present in the film, but there's something gleefully insane about this movie. It's a front-row seat to Besson's wildest fantasies without any guardrails. Or guiding mechanisms of any sort.
Most of the fun comes from seeing what egregious mockery of common sense will come next. From aberrations of gravity to fundamental misunderstandings of technology to control over other human beings, by the end of the film, you'll wonder if Besson even knows what a brain is. The dialogue swerves from mundane to gear-shiftingly jarring casual dusting-aways of someone's death and foreshadowings of events like the significance of a cavewoman (seriously) in a matter of seconds. Most spectacularly, though, is watching the film utterly disregard any notion of plot in its third act when Besson decides he wants to transform this action movie into something resembling 2001: A Space Oddysey. In truth, it's actually pretty fun watching this trainwreck.
Not all of the film's negatives are in the "so bad it's good" camp. Morgan Freeman is on autopilot in a minimal role that only exists to accelerate the film towards its breakneck finale. (For reference, the film barrels from 60% brain capacity to 100% in the span of 10 minutes.) The film lacks tension mainly because Lucy is such an unstoppable juggernaut and loses all sense of pacing and structure by the second act. Besson tries to muster up a moment of tension of the climax, but it comes off as ridiculous that, while Lucy is traveling through space and time to access every known moment that ever existed in the universe and uploading it to a single flash drive (seriously), she can't pull a gun away from Oh Dae-Su.
But the main issue is actually the character of Lucy and Johansson, who turns in a career-worst performance, trading in her nuanced personality in Her for (ironically) a robotic, inhuman personality and monotone delivery that makes her difficult to root for. I mean, this is the woman who, just mere months ago, infused a cold, ruthless alien serial killer with humanity in Under the Skin. And, in Lucy, she's essentially playing Abed Nadir with an encyclopedic mind and psychic powers, completely devoid of any emotion or sympathetic qualities. (The film tries to offer a bullshit explanation as to why Lucy's brain-gaining rids her of her emotions because apparently Besson didn't stop and realize that more access to the brain, were such a thing to exist, would result in more access to its segments that regulate emotions as well.)
Pictured: the extent of Scarlett Johansson's emotional depth in Lucy.
Lucy doesn't even have a character arc, only a power arc that resembles an upwards parabolic curve. The film tries to give her a moment of humanity when she calls her mother, but it only serves to highlight the film's ludicrous dialogue as Lucy's listing of all the things she is newly aware of more closely resembles a monologue from an esoteric philosophizing stoner. What bothers me the most about her character is that, for all the powers and abilities at her fingertips, Lucy is not a strong female protagonist because she lacks any sort of personality or nuance. There are a total of three scenes in the film where we get any sort of peek into her life before this event, but they all seem like such afterthoughts that it ultimately amounts to nothing.
She's also, for lack of a better term, kind of a dick. She shoots a taxi driver in the leg simply because he doesn't speak English, triggers a traumatic memory of the death of a potential ally's daughter in order to convince him of her powers, and kills an innocent person on an operating table without consulting the surgeons because she sees that his/her condition is incurable. While the film is, at its best, gleefully ignorant of all possible consequences and constantly in the moment, at its worst, it's an unawarely ugly and reprehensible display of a psychotic criminal doing as much harm as she is good.
Otherwise, Lucy is a film very much in the moment, one that I found equally terrible and fun, but one that I probably won't think much of in the coming weeks nor can recommend wholeheartedly. It's definitely something that I feel is worth watching once, but I can't vouch for the whether it should be seen in a theater (unless you get one with people laughing along with you at the ridiculousness happening on screen). But, hey, if Scarlett Johansson shooting laser beams out of her mouth like Ghidorah is your thing, knock yourself out.
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Snowpiercer Review: Or, "Stop the Hype Train, I Want to Get Off"
*This is by far my lengthiest written review I've ever done. Short Version: Snowpiercer has some isolated highlights, but the framework is corroded to the point that, once the elements that make it work are removed, the entire film eventually comes crashing down.*
There was a fleeting span of time during which I was really enjoying Snowpiercer. During the second act, there comes great sequence after great sequence, starting with one involving a room full of masked mooks armed with only axes and night vision goggles that consistently surprises and excites, and ending with an insanely surreal scene in which Alison Pill (yes, Kim Pine) plays a deranged pregnant preschool teacher hammering propaganda into her students' heads through song.
Then it all goes downhill.
In retrospect, I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up. The signs were clear early in the film that the best parts of Snowpiercer are those just off to the side rather than those at the forefront. Chris Evans, more than able to play a human, invigorating lead (see: the Captain America movies), is basically a blank slate in this. Compared to the performances from pretty much every other actor in this movie, you'd be surprised to learn that his role isn't played by a half-trying Lucas Lee. The few subplots never seem to wholly intersect, each one stopping the main plot dead when they're brought up.
The backstory is that, due to global warming, a chemical called CW-7 is spread throughout the atmosphere. However, this only ends up screwing the world over by freezing the planet and driving humanity to near-extinction. The remaining survivors all congregate onto a "cruise train" built by an entrepreneur who lives in its engine room that travels the world. But all of this is pretty much just a set-up for an economic metaphor, as those in more destitute conditions live in the back and are unjustly treated while those towards the front live in the lap of luxury. Despite some really gorgeous set design towards the back end of the film, the sociological angle here is only slightly more subtle than it was in last year's Elysium.
Yet, I feverishly attempted clutching onto the small glimmers of promise the movie held. Tilda Swinton steals the entire film with a scenery chewing villain role based around a crazy haircut, dentures, and inappropriately placed malapropisms. Whenever she's on screen, the movie's elevated into a dementedly fun ride that leaves you clinging onto her every word and action.
So, it makes sense that the second act works the best since she's pretty much present throughout most of it. Once that's no longer the case, it symbolically signals the slow death of the film in the coming scenes.
Almost every other supporting character is compelling to some extent as well. Song Kang-Ho and Ko Ah-Sung play a father-daughter pair of technicians who also happen to be huge drug addicts. Their relationship and occasional comic relief are the closest thing to actual humanity this film has to offer. The aforementioned Alison Pill one-scene-wonder is either a thing of uncharacteristic cheesiness or brilliant madness (I'm going to go with the latter, since it was by far the most fun moment in the film, intentional or otherwise). Ed Harris gets to schmooze it up in luxury towards the end. Even John Hurt works well despite limited screentime.
But this doesn't end up amounting to much when the film's relentlessly violent streak ends up cutting out the sole strengths it has one by one. As the number of living characters slowly dwindles, it becomes increasingly clear that, by the end, we'll be stuck with Chris Evans in bland stoicism mode. It doesn't help that he's constantly got the patented Chris Evans Intense Stare of Stoic Intensity™.
The film's eventual explanation of why he's always got the look of a recently neutered pit bull is quite possibly the single most insulting scene in this thing. What's supposed to be the emotional core of the film that gives background to Evans's character ends up becoming an unhealthily long exposition dump that so quickly veers into pitch black territory that had never been encroached that quickly becomes unintentionally humorous. The sudden shift is so perplexingly phrased and delivered in such a maudlin manner that it causes any impact it has on our perception of Evans's character to immediately become flattened into insignificance. This single moment alone is a deadening affair on the entire film's momentum, not helped in the least by the fact that Evans's monologue drags on interminably and keeps obscenely adding onto his character's tragedy with each sentence that leaves his mouth.
Ultimately, the main problem with Snowpiercer is that any goodwill towards the film is canceled out by a larger element in the same field that causes the entire thing to suffer. All of the supporting cast is more than noteworthy, but it eventually just comes down to Chris Evans's comparatively blank cipher. The cinematography occasionally stuns, but it becomes insignificant next to shaky camera movement during action scenes that cause even the act of shivving the keys out of an extremely tall guard's chest to get lost in incomprehensibility. There's a continual sense of curiosity in seeing what the next room of the train will look like, but, to get there, you have to endure the exposition-laden script that sometimes even contradicts itself (i.e. someone telling Evans's character that he's the first person to walk the entire distance of the train when at least one other person in the film does just that before him). The second act actually made me excited to see how the film would conclude, only for the movie to stumble over itself in the third act, render a neglected subplot about kidnapped children irrelevant, and end with a stunningly dumb act of literal self-immolation followed by a note of implied optimism that's supposed to tie up the loose end that is the film's world but only prominently displays a poorly rendered CG polar bear.
That said, I would definitely cosplay as Tilda Swinton's character at next year's New York Comic-Con.
There was a fleeting span of time during which I was really enjoying Snowpiercer. During the second act, there comes great sequence after great sequence, starting with one involving a room full of masked mooks armed with only axes and night vision goggles that consistently surprises and excites, and ending with an insanely surreal scene in which Alison Pill (yes, Kim Pine) plays a deranged pregnant preschool teacher hammering propaganda into her students' heads through song.
Then it all goes downhill.
In retrospect, I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up. The signs were clear early in the film that the best parts of Snowpiercer are those just off to the side rather than those at the forefront. Chris Evans, more than able to play a human, invigorating lead (see: the Captain America movies), is basically a blank slate in this. Compared to the performances from pretty much every other actor in this movie, you'd be surprised to learn that his role isn't played by a half-trying Lucas Lee. The few subplots never seem to wholly intersect, each one stopping the main plot dead when they're brought up.
The backstory is that, due to global warming, a chemical called CW-7 is spread throughout the atmosphere. However, this only ends up screwing the world over by freezing the planet and driving humanity to near-extinction. The remaining survivors all congregate onto a "cruise train" built by an entrepreneur who lives in its engine room that travels the world. But all of this is pretty much just a set-up for an economic metaphor, as those in more destitute conditions live in the back and are unjustly treated while those towards the front live in the lap of luxury. Despite some really gorgeous set design towards the back end of the film, the sociological angle here is only slightly more subtle than it was in last year's Elysium.
Yet, I feverishly attempted clutching onto the small glimmers of promise the movie held. Tilda Swinton steals the entire film with a scenery chewing villain role based around a crazy haircut, dentures, and inappropriately placed malapropisms. Whenever she's on screen, the movie's elevated into a dementedly fun ride that leaves you clinging onto her every word and action.
The face of true evil, ladies and gentlemen.
So, it makes sense that the second act works the best since she's pretty much present throughout most of it. Once that's no longer the case, it symbolically signals the slow death of the film in the coming scenes.
Almost every other supporting character is compelling to some extent as well. Song Kang-Ho and Ko Ah-Sung play a father-daughter pair of technicians who also happen to be huge drug addicts. Their relationship and occasional comic relief are the closest thing to actual humanity this film has to offer. The aforementioned Alison Pill one-scene-wonder is either a thing of uncharacteristic cheesiness or brilliant madness (I'm going to go with the latter, since it was by far the most fun moment in the film, intentional or otherwise). Ed Harris gets to schmooze it up in luxury towards the end. Even John Hurt works well despite limited screentime.
But this doesn't end up amounting to much when the film's relentlessly violent streak ends up cutting out the sole strengths it has one by one. As the number of living characters slowly dwindles, it becomes increasingly clear that, by the end, we'll be stuck with Chris Evans in bland stoicism mode. It doesn't help that he's constantly got the patented Chris Evans Intense Stare of Stoic Intensity™.
Pictured: Emotion
The film's eventual explanation of why he's always got the look of a recently neutered pit bull is quite possibly the single most insulting scene in this thing. What's supposed to be the emotional core of the film that gives background to Evans's character ends up becoming an unhealthily long exposition dump that so quickly veers into pitch black territory that had never been encroached that quickly becomes unintentionally humorous. The sudden shift is so perplexingly phrased and delivered in such a maudlin manner that it causes any impact it has on our perception of Evans's character to immediately become flattened into insignificance. This single moment alone is a deadening affair on the entire film's momentum, not helped in the least by the fact that Evans's monologue drags on interminably and keeps obscenely adding onto his character's tragedy with each sentence that leaves his mouth.
Ultimately, the main problem with Snowpiercer is that any goodwill towards the film is canceled out by a larger element in the same field that causes the entire thing to suffer. All of the supporting cast is more than noteworthy, but it eventually just comes down to Chris Evans's comparatively blank cipher. The cinematography occasionally stuns, but it becomes insignificant next to shaky camera movement during action scenes that cause even the act of shivving the keys out of an extremely tall guard's chest to get lost in incomprehensibility. There's a continual sense of curiosity in seeing what the next room of the train will look like, but, to get there, you have to endure the exposition-laden script that sometimes even contradicts itself (i.e. someone telling Evans's character that he's the first person to walk the entire distance of the train when at least one other person in the film does just that before him). The second act actually made me excited to see how the film would conclude, only for the movie to stumble over itself in the third act, render a neglected subplot about kidnapped children irrelevant, and end with a stunningly dumb act of literal self-immolation followed by a note of implied optimism that's supposed to tie up the loose end that is the film's world but only prominently displays a poorly rendered CG polar bear.
That said, I would definitely cosplay as Tilda Swinton's character at next year's New York Comic-Con.
Thursday, May 1, 2014
Film Review: Filth
Filth is an odd movie. Not odd in the same sense as Under the Skin, in which the coldness and artistic deviations from the expected play pivotal roles, but rather odd in its execution. It's a film with an absolutely reprehensible protagonist, addicted to various illicit substances, sleeping with every woman at his disposal, and itching to gain a coveted promotion by undermining the chances of his coworkers in any and every way, that's a hell of a lot of fun in spite of the person we're following. It also begins, not with our unreliable main character, but with his distant wife in a framing device that bizarrely pops up every so often in increasingly disjointed non-sequiturs. Oh, and Jim Broadbent plays a psychiatrist who may or may not also be symbolically acting as the protagonist's ravaging tapeworm.
If all of that makes you intrigued, this might be the film for you. Most of what makes the movie work overall is James McAvoy's fantastic lead role as Bruce Robertson, one of several police officers vying for the aforementioned promotion. He's crass, lewd, offensive, manipulative, unhinged, and altogether a blast to watch even as you find yourself hating him for everything he does. At first, his character seems like it'll wear thin and become a mere caricature, but the depth and humanization that comes later on makes the character worth sticking with even if we don't find him worthy of redemption.
The director, Jon S. Baird, infuses a wild, unpredictable speed to the film, always leaving you unsure of where it's going to go next. The editing zips along at a pace befitting the cocaine-addled mind of Bruce and some scenes are genuine head-scratchers that make you wonder how in the hell you got from Point A to Point B. I mean this in the best of ways, as it keeps the film feeling punchy and energetic rather than succumbing to rigorous boredom. It's quite appropriate given Bruce's raging mood swings, as he often goes from states of frustration to ones of pure antagonism in a single given scene. And even the off-kilter deviations into moments of questionable significance end up having a purpose by the end of the film that will make those who enjoy the ride want to experience it again sometime later.
Filth is a type of film that will appeal to those who can deftly handle depictions of drug abuse, womanizing, manipulation, harassment, and homophobia throughout and see it for the very enjoyable portrayal of a troubled individual it is. It certainly lives up to its title, but is far more engaging and riveting than I expected a film covering the lurid exploits of a dirty cop to be. To drive the point home, this is a film that has a scene in which the protagonist hallucinates that he's having sex with Hitler. Adjust your expectations and morals accordingly.
If all of that makes you intrigued, this might be the film for you. Most of what makes the movie work overall is James McAvoy's fantastic lead role as Bruce Robertson, one of several police officers vying for the aforementioned promotion. He's crass, lewd, offensive, manipulative, unhinged, and altogether a blast to watch even as you find yourself hating him for everything he does. At first, his character seems like it'll wear thin and become a mere caricature, but the depth and humanization that comes later on makes the character worth sticking with even if we don't find him worthy of redemption.
The director, Jon S. Baird, infuses a wild, unpredictable speed to the film, always leaving you unsure of where it's going to go next. The editing zips along at a pace befitting the cocaine-addled mind of Bruce and some scenes are genuine head-scratchers that make you wonder how in the hell you got from Point A to Point B. I mean this in the best of ways, as it keeps the film feeling punchy and energetic rather than succumbing to rigorous boredom. It's quite appropriate given Bruce's raging mood swings, as he often goes from states of frustration to ones of pure antagonism in a single given scene. And even the off-kilter deviations into moments of questionable significance end up having a purpose by the end of the film that will make those who enjoy the ride want to experience it again sometime later.
Filth is a type of film that will appeal to those who can deftly handle depictions of drug abuse, womanizing, manipulation, harassment, and homophobia throughout and see it for the very enjoyable portrayal of a troubled individual it is. It certainly lives up to its title, but is far more engaging and riveting than I expected a film covering the lurid exploits of a dirty cop to be. To drive the point home, this is a film that has a scene in which the protagonist hallucinates that he's having sex with Hitler. Adjust your expectations and morals accordingly.
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