The Flower of My Secret

Ok, here's the deal: Marisa Paredes is a popular romance writer who can't get her serious novel, written under a different name, published. As she describes the manuscript, we learn that the story is that of VOLVER. Some of the characters and settings, we see, mirror those in the later film, suggesting that, when viewing VOLVER, we're viewing something created by the protagonist of THE FLOWER OF MY SECRET. I kind of like a world in which VOLVER (2006) and THE FLOWER OF MY SECRET (1995) are part of the same reality, and that makes THE FLOWER OF MY SECRET worth watching for its coolness factor alone.

THE FLOWER OF MY SECRET showcases a clearly talented filmmaker who is still in the process of growing into himself. He directs the story of a talented but fragile woman who's on the road either to breakdown or rebirth, or maybe both, and he does so with empathy for her story and the sparklings of the kind of visual flair we come to expect in his later films. Interestingly, her story isn't quite as compelling as that of Penelope Cruz in VOLVER. Even in Almodovar's world, fiction can be, well, more dramatic than real life. And that's fine. Just keep 'em coming, Pedro.

Chicken Little

If CHICKEN LITTLE is set in middle America, why does the dad speak with a thick Brooklyn accent? The film establishes that said dad went to the same high school as the eponymous chicken, so ya think the accent might have dulled a bit around the edges, ya know? And here's another question: if you're Disney and you're making a decidedly average movie, do you really want to start it with references to THE LION KING and RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK? Those are some pretty challenging points of reference you're putting out there.

Welcome to my inner monologue as I sit on the couch and watch CHICKEN LITTLE with my seven-year-old, who thinks it's hilarious.

Well, I'm not seven, and this movie had nothing to offer me. It had all the subtlety of a 2x4 to the nose, its music was forgettable, and its characterizations were the epitome of "meh." Am I saying that CHICKEN LITTLE is a bad movie? No, not really. I'm just saying that it's remarkably average. Sure, spend an hour and a half on the couch with it and your kids. But bring a magazine.

Stealth

Some time ago, I wrote a generally positive review of THE GUARDIAN, a bad movie that made the effort to get the little details of military aviation and culture right, thus earning it enough goodwill to overcome its inherent badness. STEALTH, a film about naval aviators flying stealth jets, was made by people who seem to never have met anyone who has ever served in the military in any capacity; further, these people never bothered to read even the most rudimentary book about stealth technology - I'll bet dollars to doughnuts that they don't even know the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum even exists. Thus, it generates so much ill will that its badness gets magnified a hundredfold. The captain of an aircraft carrier (Joe Morton, discarding the last of the credibility earned in BROTHER FROM ANOTHER PLANET) wears a jacket patch for a different aircraft carrier. Another captain (Sam Shepard, paying the bills) wields more power than a 3-star admiral. A naval aviator, when told that his boss has lined up some liberty in Thailand, responds, "But we just got here!" (Here being the aforementioned aircraft carrier.) Note to future screenwriters: when any naval aviator, under any conditions, is told that he's going to Thailand, there is only one possible response: "Giddyup!"

STEALTH begins with an aerial sequence that demonstrates the decided unstealthiness of our heroes' aircraft. They don't even bother to baffle the exhaust ports, guaranteeing infrared signatures that'd be observable from space. From there, we're told that we're in Fallon, NV, where our heroes (Josh Lucas, Jamie Foxx, and Jessical Biel) are putting their birds through their paces. Never mind that Fallon isn't used for that. Next, we see them in town in their whites (another no no), where the guys are charming the ladies at an upscale sushi bar while Biel sits chastely, waiting for her One True Love, presumably, to reveal himself. OK, stop. I've spent significant time in Fallon. This is a town that offers three different kinds of food and two kinds of drink: rare, medium, and well-done steak; and Miller or Bud. By the time the heroes get to the boat, where they stay in CO's staterooms even though they're lieutenants, I'd gone well past suspension of disbelief and into resentment at the film's laziness. And I haven't even brought up its violations of the laws of physics, warfare, geography, and politics.

It's as if the makers of STEALTH set out to make the most aggressively stupid movie they could possibly make. Instead of shooting for themselves or anyone who might be interested, they shot for the broadest cross-section of international box office, making a movie that anyone, anywhere could understand. Problem is, they overshot understandable and wound up in stupid. When the guy who programmed the drone-gone-wild that the heroes defeat (Richard Roxburgh) chides Shepard, "You can't tell it to learn and then tell it who to learn from (sic)! Einstein, Hitler, they're all the same to him," we think, "Thanks for telling me that now, jerkoff, now that you've cashed the check. Where was this wisdom when you were writing up the technical proposal?" And don't get me started on the most lightly guarded section of the Korean border since Sgts. Lee Soo-hyeok and Oh Kyeong-pil spent their nights yucking it up in their shack.

Oh, this movie was beyond ghastly. It was beyond terrible. It was an affront to the very concept of film as an entertainment and artistic medium. I'm sorry it ever turned up on my radar.

The Hunted

What if someone remade FIRST BLOOD, and improved it in the process? We'd have THE HUNTED, a visceral and propulsive film that takes the basic premise of FIRST BLOOD (commando on the run from the law) and improves it by following the chase through both urban and wilderness milieus and punctuating it with exciting, realistic knife fights that add to the drama.

Here's the setup: Benicio del Toro is the commando. Unlike John Rambo, however, he's crazy - so there's that. Tommy Lee Jones is the guy who trained him and now shoulders the task of tracking and capturing him. Oh, yeah - the FBI and some shadowy DoD types get involved, too. But don't worry about that. This is the Benicio and Tommy show, and the two play off one another wonderfully. Jones, of course, is a master of looking like all the world's on his shoulders, and we feel his pain as he tracks down one of "his boys." del Toro, for his part, is very good at "psycho," in that he can both function in society and remain outside of it. Together, they provide all the characterization we need to keep us engaged as they run, jump, hide, fight, and generally battle across 90 minutes of solid, nonstop entertainment.

William Friedkin directed THE HUNTED, and it shows. This is first-class, professional, layered entertainment, professionally done. I enjoyed the heck out of it.

To Be or Not to Be

I knew who Ernst Lubitsch, Carole Lombard, and Jack Benny were before I saw TO BE OR NOT TO BE. I knew that Lubitsch was a German Jew who fled to Hollywood during the rise of Hitler. I knew that Carole Lombard was a screen queen of the Golden Age. I knew that Jack Benny had a popular television show and made a running gag of his stinginess. I didn't know that Lubitsch had the talent to actually pull off a screwball comedy about the Warsaw Occupation. I didn't know that Lombard, in addition to being staggeringly beautiful, had perfect comic timing. And I didn't know that Jack Benny mixed detachment and warmth that kept me laughing both at and with him.

As previously mentioned, TO BE OR NOT TO BE labors under the burden of being set in the Nazy occupation of Warsaw. At the time of the film's release (1942), this was serious business, yet the full scope of the horrors of the occupation had yet to come to light. From our current vantage point, it's hard to associate the Warsaw Occupation with anything other than those horrors, but it's worth it to try and adopt the mindset of an America at war. At that time, it was common to paint our enemies as buffoons, and we were more than happy to engage with a troup of plucky resisters. Once we do adopt that mindset, we're in for a great time at the movies. Lubitsch takes jealousy, vanity, bravery, and fear; and he mixes them into high comedy combined with dramatic tension and a bit of cheerleading for the Allies.

He couldn't do it without Lombard, who comes off as smart, funny, and the greatest wearer of white silk dresses in Western history. She's the pivot about which the enterprise turns, and there isn't a moment she's onscreen that we don't invest in her. Benny's a great counterpart, a little older, a little vainer, and very jealous of his wife (as well he should be, with young Polish Air Force officer Robert Stack sniffing about), and the two play off one another with the aplomb of old pros.

So, while I admit that TO BE OR NOT TO BE made me a little uncomfortable at times (Col. Earhardt as a buffoon? That monster?), it stands as an excellent comedy and deserves its status as a classic of the screwball genre.

And now I know who these people really are.

Dave

While DAVE may, technically, be a romantic comedy in that it's romantic and everything turns out right in the end, it isn't particularly funny. It's, well, it's congenial and comfortable, like a golden retreiver that puts its head on your knee, looking for a scratch behind the ears.

DAVE stars the eminently likeable Kevin Kline as the titular character, a regular guy who doubles for the President on the fateful night when the Chief Executive goes down with a brain anyeurism. Before he really knows what's happening, he's been pressed into service as a stand-in President by marvelously evil Chief of Staff Frank Langella (in a career-resurrecting performance). Wouldn't you know it, Dave's a better president than the President. Add in some domestic conflict with an estranged first lady (Sigourney Weaver, excellent as usual), some fuzzy politics about full employment, and some wonderful character moments with Charles Grodin as a small-time accountant who advises his friend to "Get out of here as fast as you can," and you have a congenial, comfortable romantic comedy that's as warm as as pair of good slippers.

DAVE works for many reasons, not the least of which being the balance between Kline's charm and Langella's menace. Kline's one of the most likeable actors working today, and he uses that likeablility to make us buy speeches and moments that we'd reject from a lesser actor. Langella strikes just the right chord of menace for a romantic comedy - scary enough to create dramatic tension, yet not so evil as to blow the film's mood. It's great work, well directed by Ivan Reitman, and the whole thing is a pleasure to watch.

As far as romantic comedies go, it's a classic.

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 Manchurian Candidate

THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE remake offers a twist on the paranoid thriller. It's a hippie paranoid thriller. Unfortunately, the hippie element so intrudes on the paranoid element that I had difficulty discerning whether the film wanted me to gnaw my fingernails, laugh out loud, or just peace out, man.

While the film hits many of the beats of the original, it also takes time to tap on pretty much every board of the Democratic Party's then-current platfom. From the Prescription Drug Benefit to Halliburton to G.W . Bush himself, THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE sets 'em and knocks 'em down, one after another, to such an extent that it actually becomes a distraction. I mean, c'mon, Al Franken as a nightly news reporter?

That's not to say that THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE doesn't have anything going for it. Jeffrey Wright is, as usual, phenomenal; Denzel Washington is, as usual, so good that we don't notice how good he is; and Liev Schrieber makes me wonder why the hell that Mr. Clark movie never happened. None of them, however, are a match for Meryl Streep. Not only does she blow every one of them off the screen, but I bet that when this thing was running in the multiplexes, she blew everyone in all the other movies off their screens, too. She's evil, she's creepy, she's smothering, and she is 31 different flavors of awesome.

While THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE is a bit slight and more than a bit hamhanded, it's worth watching for Streep's performance alone. And who knows? Maybe the hippies are right.

L'Eclisse

I hated L'ECLISSE.

The film begins in the drawing room of Monica Vitti and Francisco Rabal. They're exhausted, both emotionally and physically. She's leaving him, things could get ugly, but they never do. That would be too dramatic. Instead, they end up simply going their separate ways, and the film follows Vitti over the next several days.

Unfortunately, Vitti is neither particularly interesting nor particularly pleasant to look at. She feels disaffected, she walks here and there, she falls into an unengaging relationship with Alain Delon; none of which happen with much passion (I know a film romance is in trouble when a doorbell rings and I think, "Maybe somebody will come in and shoot them. That'd add some drama."). Finally, the film ends with something I interpreted as a big "f you" to the audience: minutes and minutes of dull, empty cityscape. No drama. No story. Just images. F you, Antonioni. If I want images, I'll go to an art museum. Tell me a story.

I do respect that Antonioni is trying to do something here. Mine is not ire at poor craftsmanship or lazy filmmaking. L'ECLISSE certainly does not aspire to the mediocrity of, say, THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE remake, which I'm having trouble mustering the energy to write about. My problem is that Antonioni disregards the first law of narrative film: engage and entertain your audience. L'ECLISSE is two hours of people I don't care about doing things I don't care about for reasons I don't care about. I'm glad it's over.

The Proposition

Ray Winstone. Guy Pearce. Danny Huston. John Hurt. That spooky Aborigine tracker from RABBIT-PROOF FENCE. These guys are serious guys in a serious movie, THE PROPOSITION, written by Nick Cave and directed by John Hillcoat with brutal pitilessness. Winstone's the law in an arid Outback town that may as well be called Tombstone, and he's out to capture or kill Huston. Others will die, some by intention and some by accident, but it matters not: Huston's the rabbit, Pearce is the hound, and the rest, well, perhaps they'll survive.

But then things change. I won't say how or why, but I will say that they do so in ways I did not expect. That's the trick of this film, and its unique allure, though I'm not sure if it's enough to recommend a viewing. THE PROPOSITION is difficult to watch not because it's brutal, but because it's brutal to people about whom we come to care. Further, it's slow, reflecting a time during which patience wasn't a virtue so much as a requirement. The two combine to create a sense of dread that, while powerful, is far from pleasant. One can imagine that this is how people lived, and this is how they made the decisions they made, and this is how they came to regret them.

So, THE PROPOSITION. It's a well-made film, but I did not enjoy viewing it. Your mileage may vary.

The Guardian

Here's a nugget of hard-won wisdom: never believe a wrestler who recommends a wrestling movie.

I learned this lesson in the '80s, when some friends on my high school's wrestling team told me that VISION QUEST was one of the greatest movies ever made. The lesson was reaffirmed as recently as the release of WE ARE MARSHALL, which some Marshall alumni friends declared was one of the greatest movies ever made.

So you've been forewarned. I'm a former Navy search and rescue (SAR) pilot who flew the helicopter flown in THE GUARDIAN. I'm now a C-130 pilot in the Navy Reserve, and THE GUARDIAN gives that mighty aircraft plenty of screen time. I once led my helo squadron's aircrew division, which was comprised of rescue swimmers (Motto: So Others May Live). I used to hold a Water Safety Instructor certificate, and one of my favorite classes to teach was advanced lifesaving. One of my helo squadron-mates transferred to the Coast Guard (Sitka Station) because he wanted to save lives. I have fond memories of standing outside my hangar, coffee cup in hand, looking up at the low, low clouds and commisserating with my buddies, "You flying today?" "Nope. I'm not flying today." Then, wop-wop-wop, there went the Coast Guard, flying out to sea to save another life. I love those guys.

That said, THE GUARDIAN is a deeply flawed movie. Its romantic subplot neither adds value to the story nor bothers to give us characters with a modicum of chemistry. For every great detail such as accurate squadron patches on the back of a pilot's flight jacket, it sports a knee-slapper such as a tough-guy Navy bar where Coasties can expect a fight (This just in: nobody hates Coasties. Hating Coasties is like hating paramedics.). Its denoument is so hamhanded and ill-considered that it's like a pop in the nose, and even the songs playing over the closing credits feel insultingly bad. Nevertheless, I really, really liked it. I liked the reasonably accurate (within the bounds of dramatic necessity) depiction of helicopter SAR operations. I liked the interactions between senior enlisted aircrew and the pilots who know and trust them. I liked the training sequences, which felt real, and I like Kevin Costner's Senior Chief character (Costner's been getting some rough breaks over the last few years, but this is another solid performance from the man.). Furthermore, the movie looks great. The cinematographer and special effects crew work together to create eye-popping, exciting environments, and they know how to give nighttime SAR operations the drama they deserve.

As a "movie guy," I'm here to tell you that THE GUARDIAN's flaws outweigh its positives, and that you should probably give it a wide berth. As a "SAR guy," I'm here to tell you that THE GUARDIAN is one of the greatest movies ever made, and that you should see it tomorrow. Let your wisdom be your guide.

Cops

My kid has been on a SpongeBob kick lately. I can take the cartoon in small doses, but I burn out after an episode or two. That's why I put my foot down the other night: "No SpongeBob. There's gotta be something better on the TiVo."

And there it was on the list, a Buster Keaton picture by the name of COPS which had aired on the station that has become the only reason I continue to pay for TV: TCM. COPS begins with a rejection: a wealthy young lady tells the hopeful Buster that she won't marry him until he makes it in business. Well, Keaton's no slouch. Before he knows it, he's the proud owner of a cart full of household goods that may or may not technically be his, but that's not really a problem until he, well, the title does imply that cops get involved, so I'm not giving away too much, am I?

This is a terrific chase movie, loaded with stunts both funny and dazzling. We rewound bits and pieces several times over, both for guffaws and wows, and the aforementioned kid chuckled, giggled, and outright laughed far more than I've ever seen him do while watching SpongeBob. Thanks, TCM, for providing a home for so many wonderful silents. You make my satellite subscription worth every penny.

Alphaville

I fired up ALPHAVILLE feeling neutral. I'm not a Godard fetishist, but neither do I repudiate the man. I was ready to take what this movie had to give and give it, in return, a fair shot. ALPHAVILLE began by puzzling me. Who was this supposed reporter from "LeMonde / Pravda"? Who were these people he was interested in? Why did some guy burst into his hotel room and try to kill him, and why did our supposed hero proceed to unwind by playing a little William Tell with his handgun and a hotel prostitute?

After a while, ALPHAVILLE went from puzzler to fascinator, as it rolled into a water ballet from Busby Berkeley's most depraved fantasies. In the process, it evoked the constant, all-pervasive fear that comes of living under a totalitarian regime and drew me into its world and its hero, one Ivan Johnson (or, as we would later come to call him, Lemmy Caution). As Lemmy came to understand Alphaville, its government, and its people, so I came to understand what was going on, who was targeting whom, and what the heck Anna Karina had to do with anything. As Lemmy took action, the scenario grew simpler still, 'til I was cheering him on and hoping he'd find both what he'd been sent for and what he needed.

I may have come into ALPHAVILLE feeling neutral, but I came out of it feeling energized and excited. Here's a movie that's willing to take risks with the conventions of filmed narrative, and here' s a movie that wraps its thoughtfulness in pulp and never takes its eye off the ball of any sound film's first priority: entertaining its audience.

ALPHAVILLE is a winner.

The Host

THEHOST violates the first rule of monster movies: it shows us the whole monster, in daylight, in the very first act. The film gets away with this infraction because the monster is a masterpiece of computer animation. The monster moves like a real creature might, it looks like a real creature might, and its integrated so well into the live-action shots that we never stop to think, "Eh, it's just a bunch of pixels."

Here's the setup: the Han River is horrbily polluted, presumably thanks to the uncaring U.S. Army and its Korean lackeys. Eventually, something mutates; something big, with three mouths, several tails, and a whole lot of appetite. This something eats some people on the spot. Others, it captures for later dining. Will a family from the fringe of Korean society, a family barely keeping it together themselves, be able to work as a team and effect the rescue of little Hyun-seo, daughter of the most wayward of the family's three siblings? Oh, yeah? How about if the Korean and U.S. armies are looking for
them? Oh, yeah? How about if Korean Society has been informed that family hosts the virus that led to the evolution of the creature? How about if everybody -and I mean everybody- is trying to capture them before they can infect the world? Oh, yeah? How about if the creature has stored the girl in its inescapable lair within the sewers of Seoul? Well, the little girl's aunt is an archery champion, even if the aunt does have a tendency to choke at the critical moment. And the family is really, really dedicated ...

This is a setup for a terrific monster movie. It has a creatively imagined beast, sympathetic characters, a resonant theme, and some wonderful images. For some reason (and I can't quite figure out what that reason is ... give me a break, I'm an amateur), however, it didn't resonate with me. I never fully engaged with little Hyun-seo's wayward father and his quest to rescue his daugher. I knew how the movie was going to be resolved before the monster even appeared. I think the Koreans sometimes like to have it both ways, vilifying the American presence while never quite working up the courage to ask us
to leave.

I dunno, maybe I was just having a bad day when I sat down to watch this one. Everyone else seems to have loved it, and I admired much about it, but it just didn't hook me. That said, if the film's description captured your attention, you may want to give this one a shot. After all, your mileage may vary.

Yi Yi

I found YI YI to be excrutiatingly depressing. It ruined not one, but two days; bringing me into work sad, lonely, and full of heartache. I suppose that a film that makes that kind of emotional impact could be construed as "good," but who wants to go through that kind of a wringer?

That's not to imply that sadness, loneliness, and heartache can't make for an excellent filmgoing experience, but they demand something -anything- to leaven the dough. Beauty, perhaps. Unfortunately, the print of YI YI from which they struck the Netflix disk is so muddy, it's like watching a film projected on the bottom of a lake. That leaves us with the aforementioned pain, and that makes for a rough time at the movies.

Edward Yang, YI YI's creator, sets this family drama in urban Taipei, and he paints it as a city both familiar and wholly inhospitable. It's familiar in that it has the same restaurants, traffic patterns, and development you'd see anywhere. It's inhospitable because the homes lack soul, the restaurants distinction, the life ordinary. In that city, he places a family in crisis: the father's facing the failure of his business, the untrustworthiness of his partners, and the temptation to remake a choice he's always regretted; the mother's undergoing an existential crisis; the grandmother's in a coma in her bedroom; the daughter is learning about love the hard way; and the son, both genius and victim, is trying to learn how to hope in a cruel world. And that's just the nuclear family at the heart of the story - don't get me started on the relatives.

There's a lot here, and I admire the film's complexity and its willingness to tackle relationships in a serious, adult manner. Nevertheless, I can't help but compare it to THE BEST OF YOUTH, an Italian movie that looks at some of the same themes and also does it in a serious, adult manner. THE BEST OF YOUTH, however, has beauty, and a touch of joy, and that makes the medicine go down. YI YI just wants to make us grin and bear it. No, thanks. I can do that in real life.

Flushed Away

Poor Hugh Jackman. The guy's trying to be a movie star: he really is. He made a romantic comedy with Meg Ryan, an action movie with Stephen Sommers, even a prestige picture with Christopher Nolan. What does he have to show for it? More flops than a skid row hotel. FLUSHED AWAY, with Jackman voicing the lead, was another in the long list of studio loss-makers. Check off "kid's film," Hugh. Perhaps you'll have better luck in a zombie movie.

FLUSHED AWAY looks like a successful kid's movie. It's structured like one, with all the beats, gags, and character moments we'd expect, and it's a perfectly fine entry in the genre. It's lacking something, however - that heart, that hook, that special something that makes it the kind of picture you don't mind seeing again and again. Here's the setup: Roddy (our hapless Hugh) lives the sweet life in Kensington, which, I infer, is a posh London borough. He's a housepet, and a happy one, until circumstance conspires against him and he's literally flushed away into the London sewers. There, he discovers Rat Culture, finds a place in it, and even defeats the evil Mr. Toad (whose toadies include Le Frog, whose henchmen respond to the command, "Fight like Frenchmen!" by raising their hands in surrender).

The movie's visually rich, it has gags galore, it features character design in the beloved Aardman style, and it feels like the kind of thing that went through committee after committee until every cog in a soulles creative machine was happy with the output, right down to the musical number that closed things out. There's no "there" there and, compared with a masterpiece like RATATOUILLE, FLUSHED AWAY is merely a trifle, something to sedate the kids while you mow the lawn.

Better luck next time, Hugh. And really, think about that zombie movie. It might finally put you over the top.

Memento

I liked MEMENTO the first time I saw it. It had an interesting structure and a different take on storytelling: instead of describing a change in a protagonist, it creates a change in our perception of a protagonist. I suspected that it might not hold up well on further viewings, so I never bothered to revisit it. Until last night, that is.

MEMENTO came free with my new BluRay player / videogame console, I couldn't sleep, and there it was, calling to me. "See it again, but this time be able to count the pores on Leonard's nose!" Unfortunately, however, I was right - MEMENTO does not hold up well on further viewings. It's a one-trick story, and once you've seen it (assuming you remember it), there's little to be gained by seeing it again. It offers no new insights into the human condition and it isn't aesthetically beautiful.

Ah, well. At least now, I have a ready-made gift for my next friend who buys a BluRay player.

Zodiac

ZODIAC is a terrific film, once you get past the fact that it isn't about Zodiac.

Director David Fincher (Seven, Fight Club, Panic Room) gives the movie a completely absorbing feel, beginning with '60s -era Paramount and Warner Brothers production logos. He casts it with a veritable all-star roster of character actors (Brian Cox, Elias Koteas, Phillip Baker Hall - hey, where's Jim Beaver?) and stars with the hearts of character actors (Jake Gyllenhall, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey, Jr.). He shocks us early with the violence of the Zodiac murders, and then pulls back into one of the most interesting takes on the procedural I've ever seen.

I walked into this movie thinking it would be, essentially, Jake Gyllenhaal and the Quest for the Zodiac. Fincher fools us into
believing that would be the case; but he takes long detours into the life of Inspector David Toschi (Ruffalo), a then-famous member of the SFPD who served as the models for both Bullitt and Dirty Harry; and shorter ones into the life of Paul Avery (Downey, turning in another in a long list of memorable performances). Gyllenhall's the obsessive, the guy who's fascinated by the Zodiac killings and just can't let it go, at the expense of his relationship with his wife and children. Toschi's the professional, the guy who does this for a living and, for all his notoriety, comes across as the most balanced individual in the entire enterprise. Downey, well, he's a shipwreck waiting for a shoal, and Zodiac provides that shoal as he lets his own
fascination with the case drag him down.

Most procedurals are about the details of hunting down a given criminal, normally culminating in a car chase or a shootout. This procedural is about those same details, but it's also about the nature of obsession. The main characters deal with it in different ways, and the film itself does a wonderful job letting us dip a vicarious toe into that whirlpool, ourselves. It works - by the third act, I was so thoroughly hooked that I lost track of my surroundings and nearly missed my Metro stop.

After seeing a string of kids' movies and foreign pictures, I was ready for a modern American drama. ZODIAC delivered.

Wedding Crashers

WEDDING CRASHERS has its moments, but it's ultimately unsuccessful for two reasons: the comedy runs out in the third act and the villain is just too evil.

We've all been to comedies in which story overtakes the humour in the last act, so I won't belabor the point. I'm more interested in the concept of the comedy villain and how WEDDING CRASHERS goes wrong in this regard.

WC's villain is one Sack Lodge, played by Bradley Cooper. Lodge is evil and vicious. Not funny, not idiosyncratic, not an otherwise interesting Baxter. He's just plain evil and vicious. Evil and vicious is not funny. Consequently, the character is a comedy black hole whenever he appears on screen. Not only does he not radiate funny, he sucks the funny out of all surrounding scenes.

In contrast, consider Ben Stiller's White Goodman in DODGEBALL. Goodman's the villain, but he's ridiculous enough to be nonthreatening and, consequently, funny. In Dodgeball, the Goodman character's just villainous enough, just over the top enough, to both keep the story moving and keep the laughter flowing. I with WC's producers had brought Rawson Thurber, DODGEBALL's writer, aboard for a scrub before this production began. He would've known what to do with his villain. He could've taken WEDDING CRASHERS from merely ok to very good.

Unfortunately, they didn't and WEDDING CRASHERS is the worse for it. Too bad.

Broken Flowers

The blog has been relatively quiet lately; sorry for that. With a famly vacation and various summertime activities, it's been hard to break off the time to write up my impressions of the movies I've seen.

That said, something's better than nothing, so here's a quick jot about Jim Jarmusch's BROKEN FLOWERS:

I'd like to take a moment to celebrate one sequence from the movie.

When Murray visits old flame Sharon Stone, he finds himself in the middle of a Nabokov novel. Thing is, he realizes it; but neither Stone nor her eminently available daughter (aptly named Lolita) are in on the joke. Murray's deadpan delivery acts as the perfect counterpoint to the ridiculousness of his situation, and the whole affair is entirely successful.

Much like the rest of the film.