The Raid: Redemption

The Raid: Redemption is a martial arts movie whittled down to its barest elements. It has a paper-thin plot, absolutely no character development, and remarkably simple costume and set designs. If this film were stripped any more, it would just be a bunch of guys in sweats doing stunts on a bare stage.

That said, what stunts! Yayan Ruhian, a Javanese martial artist (above, right), serves as the action choreographer and plays the role of the villain's enforcer. In the film's climactic fight, two heroes battle Ruhian in an intricately choreographed, precisely performed match that's as beautiful an exhibition as the genre has to offer.

Some cautions: if you aren't a martial arts fan, The Raid: Redemption has little to recommend it. If you've seen Dredd, you've already experienced an outstanding execution of a similar premise. If you love films about redemption, this film has none. If witty dialogue, careful observation, and subtle performance are your bag, look elsewhere.

But if dance movies with fake blood are your thing, The Raid: Redemption offers great routines and blood by the pixelful.  You won't want to miss it.

Jack Reacher

Jack Reacher is a solid procedural with a strong lead, great supporting work, and the best car chase I've seen in recent memory.

I started out disliking this movie. It begins with a sniper picking off random innocents out enjoying the day in downtown Pittsburgh. It's a powerful scene, alternating between the sniper's cool professionalism and the panicked flight of people unlucky enough to find themselves in his kill zone. See, I lived in DC during the Sniper Autumn of 2002. I recall unpacking boxes in my new home as a police chopper orbited overhead a crime scene just a mile away, where the sniper had shot some poor lady for the crime of vacuuming her car at a local service station. And here was Jack Reacher, mining such a scenario for a Tom Cruise thriller. To heck with that.

But I plowed ahead, mostly because a friend and fellow film buff had endorsed the film. Just a few minutes later, the great character actor Richard Jenkins showed up as the DA set to prosecute the case, and I knew everything was gonna be ok. As a general rule, Richard Jenkins does not make bad movies.

[Digression]Richard Jenkins is such a wonderful actor. If you haven't yet done so, you really owe it to yourself to queue up TheVisitor. He can do so much, create such complete characters with just body language and the way he sets his eyes, that watching him is like watching a master's class in understated perfection. You also should see The Cabin in the Woods, in which Jenkins plays a crucial supporting role. This guy is, as my kids would say, awesomesauce.[/Digression]

Soon, Tom Cruise shows up as the kind of guy my teenaged boy thinks everyone in the Army must be: he's a retired Army cop who just happens to be a sniper, a black belt, a knife fighter, a combat driver, and an an all-around invincible dude with a great plastic surgeon, a personal trainer, and an HGH prescription. Since most of us only have enough time in our lives to get really good at one or two things, Cruise's character is basically Fantasyland. But hey, it's Tom Cruise: say what you want about the man's personal life, he's an incredibly magnetic screen presence. In the film, Tom smells a rat: the case against the accused, an ex-Army sniper with whom our hero has history, looks a little too pat. There must be more to the story.

And we're off, with Tom running and driving and shooting and fighting and Sherlocking his way through about two hours of big-budget pablum – he even gets a noirish monologue about halfway through that would've done Robert Mitchum proud. Jenkins shares supporting credit with a major icon of American cinema whose name I'll withhold because his appearance came as such a pleasant surprise, and both gentlemen class things up wonderfully. The aforementioned car chase, featuring a classic muscle car against a modern speedster, is exciting and inventive and a great deal of fun.

In short, Jack Reacher is pure entertainment – so much so that I forgot my initial revulsion and enjoyed the ride for popcorn-muncher it was. If you like guns and cars and watching some dude the size of a hobbit beat up 6'5” bodybuilders, Jack Reacher makes for an interesting proposition. Toss in Richard Jenkins being quietly awesome, and I don't see how you can pass it up.

Flight

Flight is a movie about an alcoholic's journey to rock bottom. I'm fortunate, in that my family doesn't have a genetic predisposition to alcoholism. Consequently, I haven't been exposed to the disease in a personal way. I'm not qualified to speak to the film's realism, or lack thereof, in its depiction of the affliction.

I am, however, a professional airline pilot. While I don't go to the movies looking to nitpick, I feared that I wouldn't be able to help doing so while watching this film's depiction of my job. Well, the people behind Flight did their homework. The movie has the “getting to know you” chitchat of a couple of pilots flying together for the first time. It gets little things like radio calls right. Once the mishap that propels the film's story gets underway, the plane behaves in mechanically and physically appropriate ways. The plane reacts to pilot inputs as one would expect. Even the instrument panels look right.

The film gets other parts of my job right: it films in hotels many airline pilots would recognize. It has union reps and lawyers and NTSB people doing all the things I've been trained to expect them to do in the wake of a mishap. Its protagonist occupies an economic rung that's about right for someone in his position. In other words, the Flight crew expends an enormous amount of effort on accurately portraying my world.
That effort pays off because it helps me suspend my disbelief in the face of its story-critical whopper: that a professional airline pilot could function as a hard core, career alcoholic and drug abuser without (a) it affecting his stick & rudder skills, and (b) not having anyone on his flight crew call him on it. I'm here to tell you: if I were ever to fly with the senior line check airman at my airline and smell alcohol on him when he climbs into the cockpit, I would not go flying with that person on that day. In fact, my union has given me specific, scenario-based training on what to do; and that training makes sense to me. I've been in this game for a few years now, and I have yet to have to use that training. But I would not hesitate to do so, because it's my life and the lives of everyone in that plane on the line if I don't.

Ok, I'm sure all this inside baseball stuff fascinates you, but what you really want to know is whether Flight is a good movie. It is, for a couple of reasons. First, Robert Zemeckis knows how to direct a film. The initial mishap sequence is a masterpiece, the film keeps up a steady and brisk pace, and the musical cues aren't overdone. Second, Denzel Washington knows how to carry a film. His performance feels note-perfect, taking us through his descent while keeping us on his side, and even managing to make us complicit in some of his questionable choices.

All my buddies at work have seen Flight, except for those who just can't accept the movie's premise. Everyone agrees that it's technically extraordinary. I think you'll agree that it's also a fine, fine movie.

Daleks - Invasion Earth 2150 AD

Daleks – Invasion Earth 2150 AD is the second of two mid-sixties British films based on the long-running television series 'Doctor Who.' While today's 'Doctor Who' follows the contemporary norm of mostly self-contained stories loosely tied into season-long arcs, the '60s version consisted of 6 episode serials. Daleks – Invasion Earth 2150 AD is a loose adaptation of one of these serials, a six-parter from 1964 entitled “The Dalek Invasion of Earth.” Why a loose adaptation? This film, while a licensed 'Doctor Who' property, was never meant to be part of the series' canon. It deviates from the show's bible in some significant ways and pretty much does its own thing.

How does it deviate? Most importantly, it changes its protagonist. In the early series, William Hartnell's Doctor was a brilliant, irresponsible, and sometimes cowardly alien fugitive who had stolen a space/time machine and run off to see the universe with his teenaged granddaughter. In the film, Peter Cushing's protagonist calls himself Dr. Who. He's a brilliant and benign human scientist who has created a space/time machine and is using it to show his adult niece and ten(ish) year old granddaughter around history.

This Doctor Who is meant for 75-105 minute feature films, not long-form drama. This is fine, of course. The real question is how well it works.

To properly answer this question, I think the viewer must keep in mind what the film is trying to accomplish. It's a low-budget British action movie for children who like 'Doctor Who.'

To that end, Daleks – Invasion Earth 2150 AD does a perfectly respectable job of giving its audience heroic resistance fighters, despicable Dalek aliens, laser guns, and a nice Saturday afternoon's worth of spectacle. Peter Cushing is always wonderful, Bernard Cribbins (who would, in later life, become a series regular) makes a solid hero, the story rocks along pleasantly, and everyone goes home happy. Daleks – Invasion Earth 2150 AD is, in its own way, a fine example of its time, place, and genre. I enjoyed it for what it was.

Arbitrage; 42

Arbitrage

In Arbitrage, Richard Gere plays an SOB who lies, cheats, defrauds, and worse. Because he's Richard Gere, we root for him anyway.

Here's a film that practically defines star power and what it brings to a movie. Gere is so charismatic that even though we know he's (if not evil, then definitely) not good, we hope he's able to elude all the people out to get him by the dawn of the third act. We actually buy into his BS, and we sigh with relief when he evades one trap, only to grip our armrests when it appears he's about to walk into another. The film maintains the illusion with the help of outstanding supporting performances from Susan Sarandon, Tim Roth, Reg E. Cathey (of 'The Wire'), and Brit Marling (of the remarkable Another Earth).

I'm not usually a fan of rooting for the bad guy, but Arbitrage won me over. This is a fine film.

42

42 is a warmly lit, rousingly scored, respectful and loving hagiography of a great American. It features a female lead (Nichole Beharie, as Mrs. Robinson) so beautiful that two of my kids fell in love with her at first sight. Its lead, Chadwick Boseman as Jackie Robinson, radiates strength, courage, and athleticism. Its supporting cast, including a fine Harrison Ford as Dodgers owner Branch Rickey and personal favorite Alan Tudyk [NOTE: If you haven't seen Tucker& Dale vs. Evil by now, you are bad at being a movie buff.] as a villain, sell its world. That said, 42 is a journeyman film.


How do I mean? I mean it's a perfectly competent sports hagiography. Its protagonist, Jackie Robinson, appears to have no flaws. It evokes its era (mid-'40s) with attention to detail and an eye for perfect costuming. It's structured well, it tells an important story, and it moves right along. I liked it. But it isn't great. Its sets don't look inhabited. Its heroes are treated too reverently, its villains allowed no nuance. It just feels like product.

But hey, it's a good product. It tells an important story, and it told it well enough to keep my kids engaged 'til the end. That's a win in my book.

Man of Steel

Man of Steel is a solid 90 minutes of story crammed into 144 minutes of running time. The film begins with a half hour - long prologue telling us just why Ma and Pa El put baby Kal in a spaceship and sent him to Earth (Hey, comparative religion nerds: look up “El” on Wikipedia!), and why General Zod is gonna come and get him. This could've been handled with a three-minute montage.

Fast forward to Kansas, which is populated by jerks, bullies, and fat people. Oh, and the improbably attractive Ma & Pa Kent (Kevin Costner and Diane Lane), who teach Baby Kal, now named Clark, that America is full of jerks and bullies, and that he'd better keep his head down.

Now, I know that each storyteller gets to tell the story he wants, but a Superman who wasn't raised on Truth, Justice, and The American Way is just some bodybuilder in blue long johns.

Back to the story: Clark grows up into Henry Cavill and decides to be in a Christopher Nolan movie, one loaded with deep blues, blacks, and grays (with one exception: the caressing, golden light that seems to envelop him whenever he turns his head). He's afraid of intolerant Americans, so he keeps his head down. But look out: here comes Lois Lane (Amy Adams, lit and photographed by people who don't seem to like her), and she's about to blow his cover!

Great. By now, we're an hour and a half into this movie, nothing interesting is happening, and Superman's still just some bodybuilder shopping for blue long johns.

Eventually, Zod shows up and things get interesting. He brings lots of minions, and Superman fights them all, one by one. This is still an ugly movie with a blue and grey palette, but the super-fights between (our hero? I guess. The movie is named after him and there's all that golden lighting.) Kal and the evil Kryptonians do a wonderful job of showing us what single combat between super-beings might look like. They're incredibly fast. They pack walloping punches. When they throw things, those things have weight and do damage. No kidding – these sequences are spectacular, and they raise the film from two to three stars in my estimation.

And then it ends in a surprising twist on the standard “Hero spares villain, but villain tries one last trick that backfires and kills him, thus satisfying audience bloodlust while leaving heroic consciences unsullied.” It shocked my kids, showed some bravery on the part of the production team, and worked.

But a solid last hour in a two-and-a-half hour movie doesn't cut it. Man of Steel is too long, too ugly, and too dour to make for a good Superman movie. I loved those big fights, but I'm still disappointed.

Pacific Rim; To Rome with Love

Pacific Rim

I'm a big fan of Guillermo del Toro's, and I'll see nearly any movie with Ron Perlman in it on general principle. Seriously – Pan's Labyrinth ranks among the best movies I've ever seen, and you just have to check out this Facebook page about Ron Perlman donning the Hellboy makeup to make a little kid's day.

That said, I found Pacific Rim to be a below-average film in del Toro's ouvre. Yes, it features cool monsters, cool giant robot—thingies to fight the monsters, and Idris Elba selling the heck out of a poorly written motivational speech. But the script needed a few more passes. The hero's journey was simplistic, the story routine, and the whole thing lacked depth.

Nevertheless, Pacific Rim gave a great filmmaker the chance to play with some really neat toys and included a Ron Perlman supporting role that just made the movie. All that, and my boys dug it. At the end of the day, that'll do.

To Rome with Love

I'm a Woody Allen fan. Here's someone who makes films that reflect his vision, as opposed to lowest-common-denominator pablum. Often, as was the case with Midnight in Paris, this results in magic. Sometimes, as with To Rome with Love, it results in a middling effort that, while reasonably entertaining, doesn't hit the sweet spot.

Why not? Well, the film's interlocking stories aren't particularly interesting. When I was with one set of characters, I didn't feel any particular need to get to the next set. In fact, each transition had me thinking, “Ok, who are these people? Why should I care about them again?” With two exceptions, I found that I couldn't find reasons to care. The first exception came in the form of Penelope Cruz, whom I'd watch doing the dishes for two hours. The second came in the form of Judy Davis, the most interesting character in the movie. She plays Woody Allen's long suffering wife with wit, style, and all the best lines. Come to think of it, I'd much rather have seen Judy's Adventures in Rome than the movie I got.

At least the film works as a travelogue. Rome is a city every bit as wonderful as it's cracked up to be, and Cinematographer Darius Khondji does it justice. I just wish that great work had been in service to a better movie.

Fort Apache

John Ford’s Fort Apache is a great movie about a bad commanding officer.

Henry Fonda is a lieutenant colonel in the cavalry, assigned to command Fort Apache.  It’sa dusty outpost in Utah’s Monument Valley (which is actually Navajo country, but that’s not important right now).  He feels he’s been sidelined to a posting beneath his dignity, mentions his “years serving in Europe,” and refers to Civil War generals as old friends.  This leads us to believe that he missed the War Between the States, perhaps serving as an attache somewhere in the Old World while the new one tore itself apart.  He’s steeped in military history, has a powerful sense of decorum and tradition, and must have thrived in the courts of Europe.  The Army dropped the ball in sending him to the Frontier.

In one of his first official conversations, he learns that his senior enlisted leader (Ward Bond) has been on-station for some time, had been advanced to Temporary Major in the war, won the Medal of Honor, and saw his son graduate from West Point.  In other words, he learns that his senior enlisted leader is a personal and professional success, as well as an expert on the local conditions.  He dismisses the man like a servant.  Naturally, the SEL’s son is a lieutenant in the command and a fine young officer.  Fonda forbids his daughter (Shirley Temple, growing up nicely), from seeing him because he’s “of a different class.”  How European.

Shortly thereafter, he meets one of his captains, a young John Wayne.  The captain has the respect of his men, a diplomatic relationship with the local Indians, and an expert knowledge of the terrain.  When Wayne questions some of his orders, Fonda interprets it as a threat to his status. 

I am here to tell you that when you have a top-performing SEL and hard-charging junior officers, you are in the catbird seat as a commanding officer.  These people are assets to cultivate, not burdens to force into line.

Fort Apache isn’t The Caine Mutiny with horses, however.  While it uses the same basic premise of a bad CO to create tension, Fonda’s lieutenant colonel is a bad CO not because he’s a coward or an incompetent, but because the Army did him a disservice in plunking him in the middle of the Indian Wars with no training and no time to get up to speed on life on the frontier.  The men of his command do their best to back him, to advise him, and to carry out his orders, but what he really needed was a couple of years as somebody’s second-in-command.

This is great stuff.  I thought Fort Apache was going to be a seige movie, with Fonda and Wayne fending off hordes of attackers in an increasingly desperate attempt to hold their fort.  Nope.  This is a movie about Fort Apache and its denizens as they adjust to their new CO and the constant challenges and perils of life in Indian country.  When a fight does come, it comes for reasons we understand, reasons grounded in personalities and conflicts that flow from character.  We care about Fonda because he isn’t a jerk, he’s just a guy who’s way out of his element.  We care about Wayne because he’s John Wayne and there’s a reason why he’s one of history’s greatest movie stars: the guy radiates trustworthiness and competence.  In the context of this film, he’s a man you’d be proud to command and happy to follow.  We care about all these people because this is an observational film, one that puts us at home in Fort Apache’s insular society and gives us a stake in the well-being of its people.

This is a great movie, one that looks fantastic (John Ford shooting in Monument Valley: I mean, c’mon), tells a great story, and even serves as an object lesson for military officers like me.  I’m only sorry it took me this long to see it.

Three Times

THREE TIMES, directed by Hsiao-hsien Hou and starring Qi Shu and Chen Chang, is supposed to be a briliant movie. It won a Golden Horse for Best Taiwanese Film of the Year and was nominated for a Golden Palm, so it has some serious bona fides, but those bona fides didn't translate into a movie I could engage or enjoy. I suspect it's because THREE TIMES is too Chinese - it's so deeply embedded in Chinese themes and concerns that there isn't much there for the Occidental viewer.

THREE TIMES consists of three short stories, each a play on the theme of love missed. The first, set in the mid-'60s, casts Qi as a pool hall attendant and Chen as a soldier who falls in love with her, only to miss the connection in the end. In the second, Qi plays a courtesan and Chen a wealthy patron, one who always speaks of freeing China from foreign domination while blithely allowing the young woman to remain in servitude at the bordello. In the third, the two play a couple in modern Taipei, so thoroughly engrossed in their own personal worlds that they're incapable of reaching out to another human being.

These sound like interesting premises, but they depend upon an understanding of nonverbal communication and social cues that, in turn, require a deep familiarity with the culture on which they're based. The second story, for example, is a silent movie: its dialogue consisting of intertitle cards and the only sounds are that of the of the courtesan's sad songs. The sad songs are Chinese traditionals, done in the scaling, high, nearly nasal tone that was fashionable at that time, and which grates on my ears today. As for the first and third stories, they depend upon an understanding of the culture and history of Taiwan - one which I, as a viewer lacking in that knowledge, couldn't deliver.

If you're Chinese, you may love the heck out of THREE TIMES. For me, it didn't deliver.