Minions

We’re 2/3 of the way through Minions.  Nobody’s laughing.  Families have walked out.  My 8-year-old is reading his popcorn box.  My wife leans over and whispers, “Will this movie never end?”  I whisper back, “Two words: catastrophic failure.”

The film begins with a short history of minions, little yellow thumb-like creatures who live to serve villains.  It shows them serving a cute T-Rex, then accidentally tipping it over into boiling lava.  This is played for laughs, but nobody laughs because there’s nothing funny about falling into a pit of molten lava.  Later, it shows them serving an Egyptian pharaoh, then accidentally tipping over a carefully balanced inverted pyramid and crushing their master and his party underneath.  Again, this is played for laughs.  Nobody laughs because there’s nothing funny about being crushed to death.  Later in the film, there’s a long sequence involving hijinks in a torture chamber.  Again, nobody laughs.  With the notable exception of The Princess Bride, there’s nothing funny about torture chambers.

The whole film is filled with missteps such as these.  The bulk of the action’s set in late ‘60s / early ‘70s London, a time as alien to the average 8-year-old as medieval China.    There’s gag after gag taking the wind out of hippie culture.  There’s a Jimi Hendrix joke, complete with guitar lick, and even an “Abbey Road” cover photo joke with a complete setup, payoff, and denouement.   All this must have seemed wonderfully amusing to whatever 67-year-old executive greenlit the film, but it was lost on the young families in my theater.  I just sat there wondering who this movie was actually supposed to be for.

And yet, when the credits rolled, my 8-year-old and his friends declared that they loved it; so what do I know?  All I can say is the Minions is the worst film I, personally, have seen so far this year.

Three Quick Bites

The Palm Beach Story

The AV Club published an excellent piece on this wonderful film last month.  Here's a link.

The Trip to Italy

Did you like The Trip?  Based on my brief review, do you think you’d like The Trip?  Well, then, you’re sure to like The Trip to Italy, which is exactly the same as The Trip, but to Italy.  What are you waiting for?

Viva Las Vegas!

Man, I don’t know.  Elvis may be one of the greatest vocalists in the history of recorded music, but he comes across as a nonentity on film.  Ann-Margaret may be a talented and beautiful woman, but she comes across as a feral force of nature who’d eat this Tupelo yokel for lunch.

Viva Las Vegas! tries to build a romantic comedy with these two, but I never bought it.  Elvis seemed like a doofus, Ann-Margret kind of scared me, and the whole thing only comes alive when The King sings one of his many numbers.  Viva Las Vegas! doesn’t work as a film, but I’d listen to the album.

Recently Seen - 30APR13

Folks, I doubt I'll have any time for recreational writing for about another year or so.  Nevertheless, for my own records, here's what I've been watching:

Biutiful

Just two hours of agonizing pain.  This movie was recommended to me by a dear friend whom I think must be mad at me for some reason.

Despicable Me

Everyone in my family loved this movie but me.  I just couldn't find a reason to care about the protagonist.

Brave

A beautiful, entertaining, tear-jerking success.  If my younger kids didn't find the bear so terrifying, I'd purchase the Blu-Ray.

The Woman in Black

A competent ghost story with an unsatisfying ending, The Woman in Black really knows how to deliver the atmosphere.

Henry Rollins: Live at Luna Park

I've discovered that I like the idea of Henry Rollins more than I actually like watching Henry Rollins.

The Trip

Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon drive around Northern England and give each other a hard time. My wife and I both laughed merrily throughout this movie while simultaneously enjoying its underlying pathos.  A gem.

Tropic Thunder

I didn't so much as smile at any point in TROPIC THUNDER's run time. The whole enterprise felt like a labored, inside baseball comedy for the kind of people who laugh really hard at blooper reels. At no time did I feel like any of the characters were, on any level, actual people, and the child actor who played the villain was such a one-note performer that I found him to be quite distracting.

This film, a film that appeared to want to deflate vanities, felt like a vanity project. I don't ever need to see it again.

Hot Fuzz

HOT FUZZ is better than SHAUN OF THE DEAD. And I liked SHAUN OF THE DEAD.

SHAUN breaks down a bit in the third act, when it transitions from "zombie comedy" to "zombie horror." FUZZ, on the other hand, benefits from the action tradition it gently mocks - there's plenty of room for comedy in an action picture, and this film uses every square inch of it.

Here's the setup: Sergeant Nicholas Angel (Simon Pegg) is such a great London cop that he's superiors (Martin Freeman, Steve Coogan, and Bill Nighy) transfer him to a quiet little village in the country, where he won't make everyone else look so bad. Once he gets there, he finds that someone, presumably the creepily hale proprietor of the local supermarket (Timothy Dalton, finding the scenery delicious), is committing murder that would be most foul if it weren't in retribution for doing things like putting on laughably bad productions of "Romeo and Juliet." From there, as any action-movie aficionado can tell you, it's but a short step to massive explosions, the crackle of automatic gunfire, and a fugitive swan.

It's loads of fun, with wonderful comic turns from a cast that includes Cate Blanchett, Jim Broadbent, Paddy Considine, and even Peter Jackson. It features gags from broad to subtle, as well as surprising performances from Timothy Dalton and Paddy Considine, two actors I don't normally associate with comedy. HOT FUZZ kept me chuckling from beginning to end.

What a delightful film.

The Indian in the Cupboard

THE INDIAN IN THE CUPBOARD is condescending and dull. It's the kind of movie in which the juvenile protagonist is given a skateboard, then seems nearly as happy about the helmet and kneepads that come with it. It feels like the kind of movie well-meaning parents would show their kids, when everyone knows the best kids' movies are at least a little subersive: Huck Finn wouldn't have been caught dead wearing a helmet and kneepads.

Here's the story: a boy receives a plastic indian on his birthday (It's given to him by a boy of on subontinental descent - oh, the subtext!). Through the power of magic, the toy turns into a very small, but very real, Iroquois who seems to have been magically imported from his own space and time. Life lessons ensue and, while they bored me, they kept my boy duly interested.

It's just that after the recent delight of the imaginative SKY CAPTAIN AND THE WORLD OF TOMORROW, THE INDIAN IN THE CUPBOARD felt so pedestrian, so uninspired, that I simply couldn't get into it.

Bummer.

Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story

I saw this one in the wee hours last night. I respected it more than I enjoyed it.

Don't get me wrong. The film has plenty of amusing moments, and I grinned more than once, but it worked more as a thought experiment than as a narrative comic film. The movie itself weaves into and out of the making of an adaptation of TRISTRAM SHANDY, sharing more in common with DAY FOR NIGHT than any period drama. The film helpfully informs us that TRISTAM SHANDY: A COCK AND BULL STORY was a postmodern novel in a time before the invention of modernism. Further, it makes it clear that very few people involved in the making of the movie have actually gone to the trouble of reading the book. That's amusing as far as it goes, but I think the film still requires a certain familiarity with the subject novel in order to get all of its gags and its insights.

If you're an anglophile, you may very well love this movie. If you have an abiding passion for postmodern literature and film, you may very well love this movie. If you respect and encourage experimentation, you'll respect this movie. And respect is good enough for me.