College

Buster Keaton’s COLLEGE begins well enough, with a nicely paced comic bit involving a high school commencement speech, a rainstorm, and a wool suit. Unfortunately, it slows down as soon as its protagonist (Keaton) gets to college.

The character, you see, was a high school bookworm. Once in college, he decides to go out for sports. We’re expected to believe that the lithe Keaton is so incapable of athletic endeavor that he must have some kind of neuromuscular disorder, and we’re supposed to laugh at his hapless attempts at sport.

Problem is, I’m not a fan of laughing at people, and I didn’t laugh at Keaton. And since I didn’t laugh at him and never really believed in him, I didn’t care by the time he had to use his hard-won skills to rescue his ladylove. But even if I did care, the film’s epilogue would spoil it for me. I hate to get into spoiler territory (even if the film in question is 81 years old), but this film’s penultimate shot conveys such cynicism and bitterness that it sucked whatever goodwill the film had built right out of it.

Over the course of his career, Buster Keaton made some the greatest films ever. Sadly, COLLEGE is not among them.

Gates of Heaven

Errol Morris’s GATES OF HEAVEN improves with time. The more I think about it, the more I like and respect it.

It’s a documentary about the pet cemetery business, focusing on two ventures: one failed and one successful. A man who thought his dream was greater than mere business reality led the failed venture. A man who put business first led the successful one. As a study in contrasting business styles, it makes sense. But I think it’s going for something more.

I think that GATES OF HEAVEN tries to get at the nature of dreams, be they dreams of eternal union with one’s beloved pets, dreams of pursuing noble ventures, or dreams of financial, artistic, or even emotional success. While the whole pet cemetery (I keep wanting to type “Pet Sematary.” Thanks a lot, Mr. King.) thing mystifies me (bury it in the back yard, have a good cry, and move on, already), the need to dream sits right in my wheelhouse.

For isn’t that the uniquely human thing, the trait that sets us apart from everything else? Every animal eats, sleeps, procreates, and even reasons to the extent that it can. Only humans dream of a better day. Only humans fear failure or build philosophies of success or need to reconcile the hard, cold truth of death with the intuitive sense that there’s got to be more to life than, well, living.

GATES OF HEAVEN, doesn’t tell us, “This is the nature of dreams.” Rather, it works like a zen koan. It invites to observe it, consider it, meditate upon it. Like a koan, it opens itself to us as we open ourselves to it. GATES OF HEAVEN is worth the effort.

The Girlfriend Experience

So the closing credits scroll on THE GIRLFRIEND EXPERIENCE and I turn to my wife and say, “I don’t know anything about these characters that I didn’t know in the first fifteen minutes.”

Sasha Grey plays a middle – high class hooker. She appears to be primarily concerned with running her business and cultivating her clients, and making as much money as she can as fast as she can. Chris Santos plays her boyfriend, a personal trainer who appears to be primarily concerned with running his business, cultivating his clients, and making as much money as he can as fast as he can. Hovering over them and their clients is the financial meltdown of ’08.

And that’s it, really. As the film goes on and its characters’ fortunes change, they appear to remain essentially the same people they were going in. One could argue that Grey’s character learns a life lesson along the way, but I submit that anyone in her line of work would have learned that particular lesson long before the opening credits hit the screen.

Perhaps the film works less as a drama and more as a (if you’ll forgive the overused phrase) tone poem. THE GIRLFRIEND EXPERIENCE evokes a sense of uncertainty and longing, one that permeates not only the lives of its characters but American society in the dark year of 2008. That’s fine, but hey, I was in America in 2008. Take me somewhere new.

Sherlock Holmes

I never believed that Robert Downey, Jr. was Sherlock Holmes. I never believed that Jude Law was Dr. Watson. I never believed that Rachel McAdams was anyone other than Rachel McAdams. I never believed. I never believed. I never believed.

Perhaps the movie was spoiled by the previews that came before it. Seeing Robert Downey, Jr. doing his shtick as Iron Man made me realize that the guy’s been playing the same character since the superlative KISS KISS BANG BANG. By the time he came onscreen in the feature, I was already done with him.

Perhaps it was spoiled by its seeming love for Victorian London, surely one of the most depressing combinations of city and era in history. As the film went from one CGI vista to the next, I sensed that it was trying to wow me, or at least draw me in. Instead, I merely thought, “The English exploited the world merely to fund that $#!^hole?”

Perhaps its casting choices killed it. McAdams is roughly ten years too young to be her character. Mark Strong, as the villain, is so much better than everyone else that he made me wonder why he isn’t starring in major motion pictures. And the leads, well, they are who they are and they play who they are.

Then again, the problem may have been the story. There’s all this business about an ominous raven, which we know (since this is a Holmes story) is just so much jerking us around. The pièce de résistance of the villain’s evil scheme is to bring the US back into the empire. Oh, the horror! Soccer! Fish and chips! “Spaced,” “Fawlty Towers,” and “Walking with Prehistoric Beasts”! Give me a break. By the time the movie gets around to flat-out ripping off The Da Vinci Code, I was through.

My wife, on the other hand, enjoyed the heck out of it.  Then again, she'd happily watch Robert Downey, Jr. fold socks, so your mileage may vary. I wanted to like SHERLOCK HOLMES. I was ready to invest in SHERLOCK HOLMES. But I just couldn’t suspend my disbelief.

It's a Wonderful Life

You know about aspirational marketing, right? It's selling not just a product, but a lifestyle, a self image. It's pretty much everything at REI, which we buy not because we need a high-quality oceangoing kayak, but because we want to the be kind of people who need a high-quality oceangoing kayak. It's why everyone in Apple commercials are young and hip, because hey, we're young and hip, right? It's about the difference between who we are and whom we wish to be.

IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE is aspirational marketing for the noble life. George Bailey is the person we want to be, an individual who puts others before self, who stands up for what's right, who meets his responsibilities kindly and gently. And we see him garner his rewards in ways large and small, from the inner satisfactions of doing the right thing under hard conditions to the outer ones of earning the regard of his friends, relatives, and neighbors. George is even played by the man we want to be, an individual who spent his life doing the right thing; earned the regard of his friends, relatives and neighbors; and even rose to the rank of brigadier general in the Air Force Reserve. The supporting cast, of course, feels just right after all these years: Donna Reed is luminous, Lionel Barrymore is so evil he reminds us of Dick Cheney, and Henry Travers is just plain delightful as AS2 Clarence Odbody.

The whole thing works because it wears its heart on its sleeve. Frank Capra returned from WWII determined to celebrate the heroism of the common man, and IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE doesn't deviate from its theme by one iota. Each episode of George's life speaks to the idea of doing one's best within one's sphere, and its culmination in inspiring the people of Bedford Falls to do the same inspires us. It inspires us to aspire to be better people.

That's something I can settle down to every Christmas Eve.

PS Last night's screening represented the first time my 9-yr-old sat for the whole thing. I'm so thrilled that he enjoyed it.

Here's a review by my eldest son:

I just watched STARWARS CLONE WARS VOLUME 1 and it’s not good. Well, I don’t think so. The new computer animated one’s better. I think they should’ve given the clone troopers more personality. They didn’t fail that in the new computer animated series. By the way I’m 9 years old. I think they made their lines to short, & didn’t bother givin’ ‘em a stronger accent . In STARWARS CLONEWARS VOLUME 2 they gave them more personality, but still not as good as the new computer animated series. The new computer animated series is AWSOME!! ...by the way.

Avatar

I saw AVATAR with my wife. We agreed that Cameron has created a beautiful and interesting world, but she lost her suspension of disbelief during the second-act crisis while I kept it going right up to the end credits.

I think that where she saw a simplistically anti-military romanticization of neolithic culture, I saw a golden age of science fiction, Edgar Rice Burroughs - type story brought to life. This is "Astounding Science Fiction," illustrated by Frazetta and rendered in fabulous 3-D.

So what if the story is standard pulp? This is pulp done right, filled with treats for science fiction fans (Sigourney Weaver taking on "the corporation," a Vasquez - type character kicking butts, multiple nods to _Dune_ and other classics of the "warrior gone native" subgenre), astoundingly beautiful environments for the spectacle - seekers, and good old-fashioned Hollywood liberalism for everyone else.

You wanna see a completely realized alien world? Here ya go. You wanna see stuff blown up real good? Here ya go. You wanna revel in a favorite genre's pulpy past? Have at it. AVATAR offers all these delights, and in spades.

I got what I paid for.

La Dolce Vita

I need to see every Fellini movie in the catalogue.

8 1/2 is the best film I've ever seen. LA DOLCE VITA makes the top 10. I'm having a Kurosawa moment, a time when a filmmaker blooms in my consciousness as a major, defining force; a time when I realize that I must seek out an entire oeuvre, consume it, internalize it. If these two pictures of Fellini's are so earth-shakingly brilliant, I must discover what else is out there.

Fellini's meditation on what actually constitutes "the sweet life" is beautiful, insightful, silly, and profound. Marcello Mastroianni (Fellini's Mifune) is at his most charming and shallow best, and he anchors a picture that says nearly everything there is to say about the disconnect between who we are, who we think we are, and who we want to be.

What a magnificent picture.

Gommorah

You gotta make the money first. Then when you get the money, you get the power. Then when you get the power, then you get the women.

--Tony Montana, Scarface

The average crack dealer earns $3.30 an hour and stands a 25% chance of getting killed in a four-year period.

--Steven D. Levitt & Stephen J. Dubner, Freakonomics

Two teenage boys find an arms cache of a local cell of the Camorra, or Neapolitan mob. They gleefully help themselves, then play among the ruins of a dilapidated housing project, pointing their weapons at one another and shouting, “I’m Tony Montana!” “No, I’m Tony Montana!”

Their time would have been better spent reading Levitt and Dubner.

GOMORRAH, the searing film based on the nonfiction book of the same name, takes us into the lives of the people on the lower tiers of the multi-level marketing scheme that is Italian organized crime. It does so at an interesting time, mostly due to the unintended consequences of an Italian crackdown on Camorra leaders in the Naples area. See, Naples had been at peace, its criminal factions in equilibrium. But then all the top bosses went to prison, all the politicians got reelected, and all hell broke loose. Without the bosses to impose order, Naples became a free-for-all. It was a blood-in-the-streets kind of city while ambitious young thugs slugged it out to become the new bosses. And that’s where this film comes in. GOMORRAH puts us in a world in which two cells, formerly part of a larger organization but now independent (presumably, due to the imprisonment of their common boss), fight for domination of a particularly nasty part of Naples. As is so often the case, of course, the innocents and foot soldiers do most of the dying while other men get rich.

The film weaves five storylines into a depressing, yet compelling tapestry of life in the business end of organized crime. It does so through a near-documentarian photographic style, careful casting, and smart editing that keeps us moving among stories without ever losing the thread. This is a film worth watching.

I've Loved You So Long

This picture got mixed reviews, but I had to see it on the strength of its title. I'VE LOVED YOU SO LONG sounds so plaintive, so fraught with history, that I had to find out what the film was about.

Kristin Scott Thomas has just served fifteen years in prison when her sister picks her up at the airport. Thomas is damaged, reserved, isolated, and nearly incapacitated. Her will is broken, and she's making up for it with anger and bravado and any armor she can muster. But prison was then and this is now.

And so we spend two hours with Thomas, her sister, and the family her sister has built. We get to know them, and we watch as Thomas slowly grows real strength under the shell of that anger and withdrawal. The actress carries this film with her performance, for it's a picture with few distractions. She carries it well, and we believe in her and her journey because she makes us believe.

This is a careful film, an empathetic film, and a worthwhile film. I'm glad I saw it.

Night and the City

Poor Harry Fabian. He's a sap, a sucker, an opportunist and a two-bit hustler. And he's the lead character in a noir picture, so you just know things will not go well for him. He begins the film on the run. Even in the opening moments, you know he's used to it.

As played by Richard Widmark, Fabian is calculating and naive, manipulative and painfully innocent, and nearly always in way over his head. Here's a guy who desperately wants to be somebody, to provide a life of ease and plenty to the one he loves. But he doesn't understand that ease and plenty are words that do not go together.

Fabian lives in London, photographed in beautiful black and white by Max Greene. This is a London of menace and long shadows, of big dreams and big friends and betrayal in, of all things, the sunlight. Under the direction of Jules Dassin, NIGHT AND THE CITY dares Fabian to guess what's around that next corner, what's going on behind peoples' eyes. Poor Harry, poor poor Harry. He isn't any good at it at all.

NIGHT AND THE CITY works because he feel for Harry, scoundrel that he is, and we root for him to find that life of ease and plenty. But this is a noir picture, and we know how things go. So we root anyway, and we try to look around the corners and behind the eyes, and we revel in a job well don.

Easy Virtue

EASY VIRTUE, based on the Noel Coward play, starts funny and gets serious. By the time it does so, we’ve so bonded with its characters that we care why things got serious and find ourselves invested in how things turn out.

Jessica Biel, interesting for the first time in her career, stars as the earnest American bride who accompanies her new husband to his country estate somewhere outside of London. She wants to join the family. The family wants to consume her. Only one side can win. Kristin Scott Thomas is the mother, horrified that her son hasn’t married the aristocrat next door. Colin Firth is the father, back from the war but never really back from the war. And the sisters, well, they’re going to have line up behind somebody now, won’t they?

And there you go. The film rocks along pleasantly for an hour and a half. I laughed a few times, smiled more, and generally enjoyed it. Not bad.

Big Man Japan

So, BIG MAN JAPAN. Hmm. Errg. Umm, well, uhhh.

What the &^(% was that?

I mean, WHAT THE &^(% WAS THAT?

Here’s a mockumentary about a complete loser whose job is to absorb 2.5 gigawatts of electricity and turn into Big Man Japan V, a gigantic loser who fights kaiju monsters in the cities of Japan. The Japanese people hate him for wasting electricity, breaking stuff, and getting chubby. He’ll never be as cool as his grandpa, Big Man Japan IV. I think we’re supposed to laugh at him, but I just felt bad. I think we’re supposed to laugh at the fantastical monsters he battles, but they just creeped me out.

Nevertheless, there is a lot going on here. BIG MAN JAPAN cleverly criticizes Japanese and American cultures and the fusion of the two. It laments the devolution of kaiju from the reflection of a nation’s fears to silly, cheap kids’ entertainment. It probably mocks Japanese figures with its idiosyncratic monster designs, but I’m insufficiently familiar with Japanese culture to get the jokes. But more than anything else, it baffles me.

The next morning, my nine-year-old (who’ll sit through all the subtitles in the world if there are giant monsters battling above them) started querying me about the film pretty much from the moment his head left the pillow. Being the sophisticate he is, he was trying to parse the criticisms of Ultraman from those of Power Rangers. Me, I couldn’t do it. It’s two days later, and the best I can come up with is, “What the &^(% was that?”

The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor

I once went to Rome. When my wife asked me what I thought of the city, I told her, “It’s as if there’s been a part of me missing all my life, and I never knew it until I came here. It’s the part of my that has been to Rome.”

THE MUMMY: TOMB OF THE DRAGON EMPEROR (MUMMY 3, or M3, hereafter) is like that. There had been a part of me missing all this time, and I never knew until I saw this film. Now, however, I have seen a yeti kick a field goal. I feel complete.

Never before in the history of mankind has there come a time when a man or woman has had to decide whether or not he or she is the kind of person who is willing to plunk down good money to see a yeti kick a field goal. But I have to ask, if you aren’t the kind of person who’s willing to see a yeti kick a field goal, then what kind of person are you? What chill winds blow through the bleak corridors of your soul?

Of course, M3 offers more than a yeti kicking a field goal. It features Michelle “I jumped a motorcycle onto the roof of a moving train” Yeoh swordfighting Jet “I don’t need a moniker because I’m Jet Li” Li. Sure, the scene’s so poorly edited that you’d think you were watching two anonymous stuntpeople instead of master practitioners of their craft, but still. The movie has silly jokes and outrageous action and everyone involved appears to be having a great time. What more do you want in a movie entitled THE MUMMY: TOMB OF THE DRAGON EMPEROR?

I mean, beside a yeti kicking a field goal.

Whatever Works

It's been a long time since I've had the pleasure to write that a Woody Allen film was laugh-out-loud funny. WHATEVER WORKS breaks the drought.

The film begins with Larry David (the guy from "Curb Your Enthusiasm") having coffee with some friends at a sidewalk cafe. He's holding forth on his theory of life, when he decides that his friends just aren't sharp enough, or interesting enough, to keep up. Perhaps, however, his audience is. He turns toward the camera and lets us have it, in a riotously funny monologue that sets the tone for the film while bringing tears to our eyes.

From there, WHATEVER WORKS takes us on a tour of Allen's philosophy of life, or at least the one he's espousing for these 90 or so minutes. The film feels stagey at times, and we're often reminded that we're watching actors mouth the words of another. But these are funny, incisive, biting words; they're worth hearind, and they're delivered well.

I laughed. I thought. I laughed some more. I can't wait to see this again with the one I love.

The Brothers Bloom

THE BROTHERS BLOOM doesn't want you to suspend your disbelief. Rare, that, and it creates an opportunity to tell a story that revels in its storyhood. It has a trustworthy-sounding narrator, outlines its chapters, and offers a world richer, more exotic, and flat-out more fun than our own. It tells its story with relish, for how can one not relish small touches like Maximilian Schell play a veteran con-man and thief who favors Turkish garb?

This is a con movie. As such, you can expect to spent part of your time guessing at the nature of the con, part of the time feeling proud of yourself for figuring out the con, and part of the time delighting in the surprises in the con. It's a pleasant way to spend an hour and a half, made all the more pleasant by the presence of likeable and capable actors, a sure hand on the camera, and beautiful locations both inside and out.

Is it slight? Yeah. Is it flawed? A little. Will it put a smile on your face? Absolutely. This is a fun little movie.

Blood: The Last Vampire

Vampires. Samurai. Ninjas. Do I have your attention? How about vampire samurai vs. vampire ninjas? And I'm not asking about your creepy Japanese schoolgirl in a sailor costume thing, but what if one of those vampire samurai was a Japanese schoolgirl in a sailor costume? That's right - BLOOD: THE LAST VAMPIRE is a movie about a vampiric samurai schoolgirl. She fights other vampires, some of whom happen to be ninjas. She has one of those awesome mountain senseis with a wispy white beard. Oh, and you just know there's a magic sword and the fate of mankind hangs in the balance and so on.

Ah, but here's the thing: I've just seen two legitimately great films: MUNYURANGABO and BALLAST. How can I possibly evaluate a genre picture like BTLV after that? It comes down to this: how lustily is the genre picture a genre picture? Does it embrace its premise? If we accept that a vampire hunter movie isn't trying to compete with the aforementioned films, then all we have to do is discern whether it's a good vampire hunter movie.

My answer is yes, BTLV is as good a vampire hunter movie as one could want. Gianna Jun (a Korean, but that's not important right now) isn't much of a martial artist, but she's shot, edited, and CGIed well enough to keep the suspension of disbelief rolling along. The movie does a decent job of recreating late-60s Tokyo, the monster effects look good, the action sequences pop, and the climax is exceptionally well handled. So some of the performances, especially the American ones, are a bit creaky - that's par for the course.

Put simply, BTLV delivers on its premise and delivers an hour and a half of good, vampire-hunting fun. What more could you ask for in a movie about a vampiric samurai schoolgirl?

Ballast

BALLAST reminds me of FROZEN RIVER. Not because it’s about poor people, or because much of the action takes place in tiny houses, or because it’s a winter film. BALLAST reminds me of FROZEN RIVER because it’s a film about people first and story second.

That’s not to say that BALLAST has no story, or that its story isn’t a good one. But there’s a difference between characters who live in service to the story and a story that operates in service to the characters. Like FROZEN RIVER, BALLAST puts characters first and allows the story to flow from them. And like FROZEN RIVER, BALLAST delivers an engrossing experience, one that makes us feel that we know these people and makes us care deeply about who they are, what they say, and which choices they make.

I’m three paragraphs in, and I haven’t offered a synopsis or even a jumping-off point. I don’t want to. BALLAST doesn’t reveal its secrets up front, and I’m not about to spoil events that occur even in the film’s first five minutes. So this is one of those movies for which I’m going to ask you simply to take my word for it. BALLAST is one of the best films you’ll see this year. Do yourself a favor and seek it out.

Munyurangabo

MUNYURANGABO is flat-out brilliant.

Rwanda: ten years after the genocide. Two teenaged boys walk the road. One has a machete.

That machete, its mere existence, creates enough tension to turn what might be another ethnographic bore into an immersive and compelling story about these boys, about Rwanda, about Africa, about humanity's compulsion to divide into groups and find reasons to kill its own. This beautiful film draws us so completely into its world that we can sit, rapt, watching a family hoeing a field or two people repairing a wall. With the machete in the back of our minds, our attention never wanders. Surely, that's enough to commend the film. But MUNYURANGABO does more. It lays bare the heart of Rwanda, celebrates its culture, laments its past, and hopes for its future. Toward the end of the film, a poet looks at the camera and recites his work, a painful yet hopeful verse about where his country has been, where it is, and where it can go. The poet delivers his recitation in Kinyarwanda, the nation's language, and I came to believe that Kinyarwandan has a place among the world's most beautiful spoken tongues.

Do not miss this film.

Outlander

How do I say no to a Vikings and Aliens vs. Monsters movie (scratch that - *the* Vikings and Aliens vs. monsters movie), especially when it features Ron Perlman, John Hurt, and Jim Caviezel? And what's this? The monster lives under a lake? And it's - wait for it - it's a mom? And the alien Outlander (Jim Caviezel) has to ... hey, wait a minute, I read this book in the seventh grade!

That's right, folks, OUTLANDER is _Beowulf_. With spaceships. Friends, you can't screw this up.

And the people behind this movie didn't screw it up; not really. In fact, if you gave me fifty million dollars, some time, and some freedom, I couldn't make a Beowulf with Spaceships movie as good as OUTLANDER. If you gave me a decade or so to learn the craft, fifty million dollars, some time, and some freedom, however, I could probably make a Beowulf with Spaceships movie as good as OUTLANDER. This is a professional film: the script is tight, the photography pretty, the monster well-designed and realized, and the acting fine. But it's an average work by average professionals. It has no soul. Its story is too tight. Its sound design and score merely echo, not underline or expand. Its editing is so pedestrian that it seems like it came from a textbook. It's like some guy pitched "Vikings and Aliens vs. Monsters from the Public Domain," everyone got excited, and then they just sorta thought they could cruise by on the concept.

And they sorta do. I mean, really, y'know, it's fine. If you like monsters, aliens, Vikings, and epic poetry, it'll be right up your alley. But at the end of the day, it's no "Forth he fared at the fated moment, sturdy Scyld to the shelter of God."