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.
Showing posts with label Film. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Film. Show all posts
Sunday, February 8, 2015
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.
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Film Review: Under the Skin
Huh. That was… well. I'm flabbergasted. Flabbergasted and flummoxed and dumbfounded and other adjectives. This film wowed me unlike anything else I've seen in quite a while. I didn't know what to expect from the very polarizing opinions I've heard across the board (no joke: the concession stand employee at the last movie I saw warned me not to see it), but… I'm speechless.
Let me say this outright: I loved this movie. Save for the very anticlimactic ending (which I guess is kinda the point?), this was just the movie for me. But it's not a movie for everyone. Specifically, if you find films from Kubrick or Malick dull or boring, stay away from this movie. This is the type of movie specifically made to be analyzed, where the plot is conveyed rather than stated, where each moment of lingering silence is made to be picked apart. If that's not your cup of tea, don't bother because this movie will test your patience.
But, personally, I found that this film was teeming with directorial fingerprints and plenty of style to go around (even though it's nothing like director Jonathan Glazer's debut, Sexy Beast, which you should check out simply for its amazing Ben Kingsley performance). It also had a palatable tension and creepiness that stuck with me from its hypnotically enigmatic opening.
Giving a career-best performance, Scarlett Johansson plays the lead role as an alien roaming around Scotland and feeding off the men she seduces. Her vacant stare and calculated eroticism fit the bill perfectly and, even as she shows cracks in this stoicism in the film's final act, it always seems to fit where her character is plot-wise. Once she leads her victims into her lair, an entirely black room with a reflective floor that the men sink through, the film really shows its teeth, albeit in a restrained fashion. The build-up to this moment is punctuated by a peak in dread and the shrieking soundtrack (good God, the soundtrack to this film is wonderfully terrifying), but ends in muted terror rather than a sudden climax. When it's followed up later on in nightmarish detail, it's far more effective in its minimalism than going out of its way to horrify.
What I didn't expect given its emotionless opening act is the sympathy I felt for some of the characters in the film. One of Johansson's victims, whose backstory made me actually cringe in wait for his fate, conjures up more empathy in his five to ten minutes of screen time than most protagonists in films from the past year. And, in the last act, Johansson's character goes through an interesting series of events that brought me back around to her character's side despite the various murders she committed earlier in the film.
However, not all of this final act fits what comes before. A late development that hints that it may add a new avenue to the plot never goes anywhere and amounts to nothing, and the film itself rather abruptly ends once the plot has nowhere else to go. But, ultimately, the feel of this film was definitely worth the experience. It's a weird little film that felt just like the type of movie you see at 10 pm after you make a 30 minute drive (which is exactly how I saw it). And it's bound to stay with me for quite a while. At least, those skin-crawlingly frightful seduction sequences will.
Let me say this outright: I loved this movie. Save for the very anticlimactic ending (which I guess is kinda the point?), this was just the movie for me. But it's not a movie for everyone. Specifically, if you find films from Kubrick or Malick dull or boring, stay away from this movie. This is the type of movie specifically made to be analyzed, where the plot is conveyed rather than stated, where each moment of lingering silence is made to be picked apart. If that's not your cup of tea, don't bother because this movie will test your patience.
But, personally, I found that this film was teeming with directorial fingerprints and plenty of style to go around (even though it's nothing like director Jonathan Glazer's debut, Sexy Beast, which you should check out simply for its amazing Ben Kingsley performance). It also had a palatable tension and creepiness that stuck with me from its hypnotically enigmatic opening.
Giving a career-best performance, Scarlett Johansson plays the lead role as an alien roaming around Scotland and feeding off the men she seduces. Her vacant stare and calculated eroticism fit the bill perfectly and, even as she shows cracks in this stoicism in the film's final act, it always seems to fit where her character is plot-wise. Once she leads her victims into her lair, an entirely black room with a reflective floor that the men sink through, the film really shows its teeth, albeit in a restrained fashion. The build-up to this moment is punctuated by a peak in dread and the shrieking soundtrack (good God, the soundtrack to this film is wonderfully terrifying), but ends in muted terror rather than a sudden climax. When it's followed up later on in nightmarish detail, it's far more effective in its minimalism than going out of its way to horrify.
What I didn't expect given its emotionless opening act is the sympathy I felt for some of the characters in the film. One of Johansson's victims, whose backstory made me actually cringe in wait for his fate, conjures up more empathy in his five to ten minutes of screen time than most protagonists in films from the past year. And, in the last act, Johansson's character goes through an interesting series of events that brought me back around to her character's side despite the various murders she committed earlier in the film.
However, not all of this final act fits what comes before. A late development that hints that it may add a new avenue to the plot never goes anywhere and amounts to nothing, and the film itself rather abruptly ends once the plot has nowhere else to go. But, ultimately, the feel of this film was definitely worth the experience. It's a weird little film that felt just like the type of movie you see at 10 pm after you make a 30 minute drive (which is exactly how I saw it). And it's bound to stay with me for quite a while. At least, those skin-crawlingly frightful seduction sequences will.
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Film Review: American Hustle
Even though I've seen more current films since the last one I properly reviewed (the definitely-going-to-end-up-on-my-top-10 You're Next), I haven't really found enough to go into an in-depth review of any of them. I know that's bad practice, as a film critic should be able to adequately write about any film, no matter how much he or she can draw from, but if American Hustle is the movie to get me motivated enough to write about a film... well, I'm certainly more than happy with that, to say the least.
I try not to get too hyped from trailers (I'm still going into The Wolf of Wall Street cautiously optimistic), the meticulous releases in advance of American Hustle only further built up my interest. With my enjoyment of David O. Russell's last two films, the terrific cast assembled for this film, and the excellent music choices in both of the movie's trailers in tow, I went into this hoping it could live up to at least a fraction of my anticipation.
Man, oh, man, though, is this a fun movie. A well-made, well-acted movie with great directorial stylistic flair, but a fun movie, too. All three of the film's main characters are continually interesting and are played with defined, engaging identities. Christian Bale is great as Irving Rosenfeld, a role in which his commitment to living in the character's skin (in this case, a noticeable gut and a combover) buries the actor within the character. I like Amy Adams' character as she's written (a woman so desperate to escape her identity that she creates a new person with her own motives and thoughts separate from the original) better than how it's executed, with a weak, fluctuating British accent that would have realistically been noticed extremely early in the film. (Hey, movies in general: Can we give the weirdly distracting British accents a rest? Between this and Elysium [which, OK, featured a fake British accent 100x worse than this one], I'm just about fed up with its use altogether.)
But, once again, Bradley Cooper proves to be the strongest link in an already strong cast. Having now seen Silver Linings Playbook after really taking a liking to his role in The Place Beyond the Pines, I applaud his ability (when paired with the right directors) to take characters into a realm that can be more relatable or exciting than other actors. This is certainly a case for the latter, as there's something oddly intriguing in his character's unorthodox courses of action even as he lets his anger get the better of him. For another actor, it may have resulted in a grating performance, but there's something weirdly fascinating in Cooper's progressive bullying of his superior (Louis C.K. in a straight-man role, whose interactions with Cooper provide a good deal of the film's highlights).
Elsewhere, Jeremy Renner is merely passable, serving as simply a plot device by the film's conclusion. Most interesting is Jennifer Lawrence's supporting role as Rosenfeld's estranged wife, whose erratic, unpredictable behavior out-crazies all three main characters combined. However, despite a scene in which she flaunts all of her passive-aggressive insanity like nothing, she ultimately just becomes a wrench thrown into the plot to generate conflict.
Though there's much more to discuss casting-wise, something should be said of the film's structural and stylistic resemblances. Plenty of comparisons have already been made to Goodfellas (which are made explicit through the laying out of character background via narration and in media res opening), but I feel that this film is somewhat of a love letter to The Sting. The professions of Bale and Adams's characters, as well as the central conflict of the film seem to hark back to that film in ways that struck me as less-than-accidental. But, hey, that might just be me and brain's odd means of tangential connection.
I'm not sure where American Hustle currently stands on my mental tracking of the year's films, or even within David O. Russell's oeuvre, but I found what I really liked about the film to outweigh any stray thoughts otherwise (the less said about the "Live or Let Die" sequence, the better). Every little interesting aspect or character tic within the film made the runtime a breezy, fun experience that I'd gladly watch again. If nothing else, I'll certainly be thinking fondly about the film a lot over the next few days.
I try not to get too hyped from trailers (I'm still going into The Wolf of Wall Street cautiously optimistic), the meticulous releases in advance of American Hustle only further built up my interest. With my enjoyment of David O. Russell's last two films, the terrific cast assembled for this film, and the excellent music choices in both of the movie's trailers in tow, I went into this hoping it could live up to at least a fraction of my anticipation.
Man, oh, man, though, is this a fun movie. A well-made, well-acted movie with great directorial stylistic flair, but a fun movie, too. All three of the film's main characters are continually interesting and are played with defined, engaging identities. Christian Bale is great as Irving Rosenfeld, a role in which his commitment to living in the character's skin (in this case, a noticeable gut and a combover) buries the actor within the character. I like Amy Adams' character as she's written (a woman so desperate to escape her identity that she creates a new person with her own motives and thoughts separate from the original) better than how it's executed, with a weak, fluctuating British accent that would have realistically been noticed extremely early in the film. (Hey, movies in general: Can we give the weirdly distracting British accents a rest? Between this and Elysium [which, OK, featured a fake British accent 100x worse than this one], I'm just about fed up with its use altogether.)
But, once again, Bradley Cooper proves to be the strongest link in an already strong cast. Having now seen Silver Linings Playbook after really taking a liking to his role in The Place Beyond the Pines, I applaud his ability (when paired with the right directors) to take characters into a realm that can be more relatable or exciting than other actors. This is certainly a case for the latter, as there's something oddly intriguing in his character's unorthodox courses of action even as he lets his anger get the better of him. For another actor, it may have resulted in a grating performance, but there's something weirdly fascinating in Cooper's progressive bullying of his superior (Louis C.K. in a straight-man role, whose interactions with Cooper provide a good deal of the film's highlights).
Elsewhere, Jeremy Renner is merely passable, serving as simply a plot device by the film's conclusion. Most interesting is Jennifer Lawrence's supporting role as Rosenfeld's estranged wife, whose erratic, unpredictable behavior out-crazies all three main characters combined. However, despite a scene in which she flaunts all of her passive-aggressive insanity like nothing, she ultimately just becomes a wrench thrown into the plot to generate conflict.
Though there's much more to discuss casting-wise, something should be said of the film's structural and stylistic resemblances. Plenty of comparisons have already been made to Goodfellas (which are made explicit through the laying out of character background via narration and in media res opening), but I feel that this film is somewhat of a love letter to The Sting. The professions of Bale and Adams's characters, as well as the central conflict of the film seem to hark back to that film in ways that struck me as less-than-accidental. But, hey, that might just be me and brain's odd means of tangential connection.
I'm not sure where American Hustle currently stands on my mental tracking of the year's films, or even within David O. Russell's oeuvre, but I found what I really liked about the film to outweigh any stray thoughts otherwise (the less said about the "Live or Let Die" sequence, the better). Every little interesting aspect or character tic within the film made the runtime a breezy, fun experience that I'd gladly watch again. If nothing else, I'll certainly be thinking fondly about the film a lot over the next few days.
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Movie Review: You're Next
You're Next not only begins as a typical horror movie, but it was also advertised as one. The trailer (linked below) as well as the posters hinted at a film consisting solely of, "Ooh, look at these menacing guys in creepy animal masks who terrify people! This is our main source of fear, guys! This is the best we got!" This mentality was played out long by the time that the modern go-to template for home invasion movies, 2008's The Strangers, was released, so I and most of the moviegoing public wrote this off as yet another knock-off in that field.
Boy, was I wrong.
This may be from a purely immediate reactionary standpoint, but I had a blast with this movie. Similar to my quick realization that I formed an intense emotional bond with The Place Beyond the Pines, You're Next is shaping up to be quite possibly the most fun I've had at the movies this year (with the exception of The World's End). This might just be due to the way my opinion of the movie progressively changed: As the film evolved in style and tone, I found that the trajectory of quality was quite the upswing.
Take, for example, the opening. After a standard home invasion murder complete with obligatory jump-scare, we get a married couple moving into a new house. Check. Introductions to guests who will most likely have stock traits so that not much gets in the way of their deaths. Check. Suspicions that something is not right in the house, only to be quickly shrugged aside, the audience meanwhile fully aware that these assumptions had merit. Check. A family dynamic courtesy of a reunion built around the parents' anniversary. Che- Wait, that's new.
And this is the first sign that this movie is trying something different. From here, the movie uses the standard tropes of the tried-and-true format to not-so-subtly progress into something that's less of a horror film and more of a black comedy (one scene features the parents' daughter crying over the fact that her family thinks she's not as capable of running to get rescue as her siblings) with a horror format. While the family relationship doesn't remain at the forefront for long (it becomes more of an implied driving force for many of the later moments), it paves the way for interesting scenes and concepts.
One scene, in particular, seems like this film's equivalent of the bike scene in The Cabin in the Woods (for the record, that did horror movie deconstruction much better than this film, but I think that this scene works better than that film's solely due to the hilariously brutal shock gore here). The animal mask guys also hint at this movie's approach through the quietly funny way in which they act, cutting through the potential fright their appearances could muster. At one point, one sits down nonchalantly next to a corpse after murdering someone, the humor stemming from his staid stance. They're also on the receiving end of some of the comedy, such as the Home Alone-esque extent to which a couple of them get attacked.
Ultimately, what ends up working the most in this film's favor is it's satirical elements. By the end of the movie's second act, the film drops all notion of the "horror" aspect advertised for a bitterly funny and violent edge. The movie deliberately plays a good amount of this section for comedy, even though the context for these events is anything but. It's also giddily fun and an all-around really enjoyable movie. While not nearly at the same levels of visceral satisfaction as The Cabin in the Woods, the conclusion of this film has a gratifying edge that made me squirm and gasp with glee. Despite the fact that the final event of the movie comes as the result of an impractical judgment on one fairly level-headed character's part, the payoff that results is one of the most insanely awesome abrupt endings since 2011's Hanna.
By the end of it all, I could say so much more about this movie (such as the fact that Sharni Vinson is fantastic and needs to get more roles as a result of this, or how cool the John Carpenter-esque soundtrack is, or about how we need to give the ludicrous number of GODDAMN SLOW-MO SHOTS a rest), but the fun factor ends up being the greatest strength of the film. As soon as the movie ends, complete with the film's main musical motif ("Looking for the Magic" by Dwight Twilley Band, which, trust me, makes a hell of a lot more sense in context) playing over the credits, I wanted to not only immediately buy a DVD copy of the film, but also talk about it to somebody, anybody who would listen. I wouldn't be surprised if this ends up being one of my favorite movies of the year.
Movie Review: In A World...
It's kind of odd and somewhat antiquated, now that I think of it, to picture a movie like this, where voiceovers for trailers are as highly esteemed as they are, being released in 2013. Sure, I do vaguely recall a time when voiceovers in trailers were a big deal and telegraphed to the audience that THE MOVIE WE ARE ADVERTISING IS THE MOST IMPORTANT MOVIE YOU WILL SEE UNTIL THE NEXT MOST IMPORTANT MOVIE. But, after the passing of Don LaFontaine in 2008, the art of epic voiceover work for trailers seemed to subside.
Lake Bell's comedy, In A World..., resurrects the importance of a single powerful voice in the pantheon of movie legend by taking a decidedly striking approach: pitting one woman with a voice that rivals her male counterparts against sexist mores instilled in society. Granted, there's much more complexity and intricacy going on than that concept, but this is the main conflict the film posits a rebuttal to. Bell (in addition to writing and directing) plays Carol, daughter of fictional famous voiceover artist Sam Sotto, who, after being discouraged by her father on the difficulties of breaking into his line of work and being kicked out of his house, goes to stay with her sister and her husband who are themselves going through marital struggles. Other plot threads intertwine, including a fellow employee (Demetri Martin) with a crush on Carol and a rival voiceover star (Ken Marino) under Sotto's wing attempting to bring back the title phrase made famous by LaFontaine.
The film's subject matter has become its main talking point and it's for good reason. How often have you caught yourself thinking that we need equality of the sexes in a career like trailer voiceovers? The movie aims to ferment this notion within those who had never considered it before. But, what could have easily been a preachy message of equality comes across as an original, fresh take on feminist culture. This is most obviously present in one of the final exchanges of dialogue in the film, which eschews radical Amazonian feminism referenced throughout the film for a general instillment of empowerment that could serve as a strong stand-alone argument for the movement as a whole.
Bell's script here is sharp and witty, zipping along at a brisk pace that keeps the plot moving at a natural speed as opposed to rushing through all of the necessary beats. Bell brings an astoundingly human, flawed, yet good-natured turn in the lead role, but Martin's lovable awkwardness and Fred Melamed's realistic stubbornness are noteworthy as well. The supporting cast is excellent here, with Michaela Watkins, Marino, Rob Corddry (yes, this movie is somewhat of a mini-Childrens Hospital reunion, though Marino and Corddry never appear on screen together) Nick Offerman, and Tig Notaro (exceedingly funny in her brief screen-time) among others in bit parts.
Though the script does allow for a lot to happen in a light 93 minutes, it also lets quite a bit go and is, at times, overstuffed. A minor plot thread involving Carol's sister and an Irish director seems to go nowhere after it's resolved with 30 minutes left in the film, aside from a brief reference at the end. Another minor character, a British neighbor, appears in two scenes with hints that she may become important later in the film, but then disappears without a mention.
The movie is also structured in an unorthodox fashion. The first two-thirds of the movie serve as an ensemble piece of sorts, with the big conflict at the end hinted at but not pursued. By the third act, all other side plots are dropped and the main arc of the film becomes the only one. While this isn't necessarily detrimental to the film, it sticks out quite a bit and leads to some awkward shifts in pacing.
But the film gets by on its charm alone. It's a genuinely enjoyable film that has its highs and lows, but I found myself liking it throughout, flaws and all. By combining a noteworthy concept with a overwhelming amount of positivity, In A World... won me over by being the most likable thing a film can be: charming.
Lake Bell's comedy, In A World..., resurrects the importance of a single powerful voice in the pantheon of movie legend by taking a decidedly striking approach: pitting one woman with a voice that rivals her male counterparts against sexist mores instilled in society. Granted, there's much more complexity and intricacy going on than that concept, but this is the main conflict the film posits a rebuttal to. Bell (in addition to writing and directing) plays Carol, daughter of fictional famous voiceover artist Sam Sotto, who, after being discouraged by her father on the difficulties of breaking into his line of work and being kicked out of his house, goes to stay with her sister and her husband who are themselves going through marital struggles. Other plot threads intertwine, including a fellow employee (Demetri Martin) with a crush on Carol and a rival voiceover star (Ken Marino) under Sotto's wing attempting to bring back the title phrase made famous by LaFontaine.
The film's subject matter has become its main talking point and it's for good reason. How often have you caught yourself thinking that we need equality of the sexes in a career like trailer voiceovers? The movie aims to ferment this notion within those who had never considered it before. But, what could have easily been a preachy message of equality comes across as an original, fresh take on feminist culture. This is most obviously present in one of the final exchanges of dialogue in the film, which eschews radical Amazonian feminism referenced throughout the film for a general instillment of empowerment that could serve as a strong stand-alone argument for the movement as a whole.
Bell's script here is sharp and witty, zipping along at a brisk pace that keeps the plot moving at a natural speed as opposed to rushing through all of the necessary beats. Bell brings an astoundingly human, flawed, yet good-natured turn in the lead role, but Martin's lovable awkwardness and Fred Melamed's realistic stubbornness are noteworthy as well. The supporting cast is excellent here, with Michaela Watkins, Marino, Rob Corddry (yes, this movie is somewhat of a mini-Childrens Hospital reunion, though Marino and Corddry never appear on screen together) Nick Offerman, and Tig Notaro (exceedingly funny in her brief screen-time) among others in bit parts.
Though the script does allow for a lot to happen in a light 93 minutes, it also lets quite a bit go and is, at times, overstuffed. A minor plot thread involving Carol's sister and an Irish director seems to go nowhere after it's resolved with 30 minutes left in the film, aside from a brief reference at the end. Another minor character, a British neighbor, appears in two scenes with hints that she may become important later in the film, but then disappears without a mention.
The movie is also structured in an unorthodox fashion. The first two-thirds of the movie serve as an ensemble piece of sorts, with the big conflict at the end hinted at but not pursued. By the third act, all other side plots are dropped and the main arc of the film becomes the only one. While this isn't necessarily detrimental to the film, it sticks out quite a bit and leads to some awkward shifts in pacing.
But the film gets by on its charm alone. It's a genuinely enjoyable film that has its highs and lows, but I found myself liking it throughout, flaws and all. By combining a noteworthy concept with a overwhelming amount of positivity, In A World... won me over by being the most likable thing a film can be: charming.
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