Baby Mama (Michael McCullers, 2008)

2007 had an honored class of “pregnancy comedies” with Waitress, Knocked Up and Juno all earning accolades and big box office. So the arrival of Baby Mama in 2008 is not especially shocking… but it does sorta feels like the delinquent child who got held back. Most of the fault can be laid on first-time director Michael McCullers (who also wrote the film). McCullers shows little eye for visual composition and even less of a sense of comedic timing. He cuts at inappropriate times, leaves cutting room floor material scattered throughout and you remember those caricatures of human beings that I mentioned Forgetting Sarah Marshall managed to avoid? McCullers has a boatload of ‘em. Steve Martin’s health nut guru. The Lamaze teacher with a serious lisp. Sigourney Weaver’s surprisingly fertile owner of the surrogate mothers clinic. Even Amy Poehler herself plays a woman so stupidly vacant, I started to question whether she always has those glossed-over eyes or if she can just manage the same expression in every scene. McCullers previous screenplays, some of which I have been a fan of (Undercover Brother and Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me), both took place in a kind of hyper-reality in which characters could act any which way they liked. Baby Mama makes it obvious then… he just hasn’t realized how to write real. At least Tina Fey gets out unscathed, mostly just mimicking her “30 Rock” character. She’s not a cartoon like the others, she’s just anal. And the film itself is not without some laughs – largely thanks to Greg Kinnear - but with a cast as talented as this that’s faint praise. The jokes don’t land nearly as often as you would want or expect. Had Tina Fey written the film herself, as she had with the surprisingly worthwhile Mean Girls, I feel like it would have suited her sense of humor better. Instead, only Dax Shephard seems really at home delivering the absurdist dialogue McCullers offers up (Dax apparently agrees with me that not enough people have seen his Idiocracy performance, because, this is it). Most of the time though, Baby Mama aims for the lowest common denominator humor. But it’s Kinnear who’s the only one here with a straight face… the only one who’s consistently sincere… and the one proving, yet again, the best jokes come from the actor who’s not afraid to be “real.” But what do I know? Amy Poehler peeing in the sink brought the house down.

The Forums: Topic II

Topic of the Week:

Name an Actor or Actress That if You Know They're in a Movie You Will Think Twice About Seeing It

Horton Hears a Who! (Jimmy Hayward & Steve Martino, 2008)

The Dr. Seuss book that Horton is based on targets a 4-to-8 year old demographic. The movie - it would appear - does the same. But if that’s the case, why cast Jim Carrey, Steve Carell, Seth Rogen and Jonah Hill? Are “The Office” and Superbad now favorites of the play age crowd? Here they’re all muted, comedically castrated, being forced to adhere to their Suessian G-rating and leaving the movie feeling too childish and kid-centric to appeal to anyone past the preteen age. The visuals however are infinitely better than either live action Suess adaptation (The Cat in the Hat or How the Grinch Stole Christmas), and we get the usual moral lessons you’ve come to expect, but there’s nothing to distinguish this film. It’s typical of Blue Sky (and Dreamworks), who have managed to pilfer Pixar’s image rendering graphic techniques… but none of their heart. Let your kids watch it, but steer clear of the room when they do.

Lost - S4, E9: "The Shape of Things to Come"

LOST REACTIONS

Season 4, Episode 9 - "The Shape of Things to Come"

Forgetting Sarah Marshall (Nicholas Stoller, 2008)

Is it wrong to call Forgetting Sarah Marshall, a movie that features bookended scenes in which star Jason Segal strips down to his birthday suit, his… um, coming out party? Well, I’m gonna do it anyway. The latest familiar Apatow face to headline his own movie, Segal, the writer/actor of Forgetting Sarah Marshall with the somewhat over-padded midsection, penned the story all because his buddy Judd told him, “No one’s gonna cast you in a lead role unless you write it yourself.” Truthfully, the storyline is not an original and can be simplified down exactly as you would expect from the trailer (guy dumped by girl, guy goes to Hawaii to forget girl, guy runs into ex-girlfriend while on vacation, guy meets new girl). But the experience of watching Forgetting Sarah Marshall is akin to hanging out with a group of friends the likes of which you’d continue getting into wrestling matches with well into your 30’s, friends who toss putdown jokes at one another as a substitute form of male bonding and then shrug those insults off immediately, and ones that would be just as comfortable lounging on the couch eating snacks (or cereal all day long) as they are drinking and partying ‘til dawn on the beach. That’s what the Apatow gang is. They just all seem to have their own killer sense of humor too. Segal, here as Peter, inherits the stalk-tastic characters he portrayed pretty much throughout both “Freaks and Geeks” and “Undeclared” too-short-lived and only now appreciated series. But he also maintains the genuinely harmless qualities he exhibited on television, his endearing nature and total inability to avoid awkward situations you can see coming from a mile off. That’s how Peter finds himself staying in the same hotel as his ex, running into them on a consistent basis and even being invited to join them for dinner by her new guy, an English pop star with a message (Russell Brand). He’s just so likable it’s impossible to view Peter as a threat. The film manages a lot of laughs for a genre that’s been mined over so many times before, and a lot of it has to do with its cast, from Segal and Apatow regulars Paul Rudd, Jonah Hill and Bill Hader… to newcomers Mila Kunis, Russell Brand and even Kristen Bell herself as Sarah Marshall. Everyone does well for themselves and the story avoids the over-the-top characters that occasionally grind some films of this genre to a halt (as in Wedding Crashers or Apatow’s-own Walk Hard). And even characters that start out as caricatures mature into something more. Plus, this crew is really reveling in their R-rated raunch. Nicely done. Bring on Pineapple Express.

Funny Games (Michael Haneke, 2008)

Is Funny Games a better film than Saw or Hostel simply because it doesn’t fetishize its violence and it knows it’s sending up the gorno genre? Does its self-knowledge somehow elevate it past films that aim only to exploit brutality and torture as a means for cheap thrills? Or is it worse because it should know better than to exist in this filth? Honestly, who cares, either way it doesn’t make it any more enjoyable to watch. Naomi Watts and Tim Roth play bland, white-collared lakeside homeowners who, for no good reason, become the captives of Peter and Paul (Michael Pitt and Brady Corbet), or Tom and Jerry, or Beavis and Butt-head, or whatever alter egos these two decide to go by on a minute-by-minute basis. These two motiveless psychopaths are dolled up in entirely white polo outfits that match the place so well they might as well be house decorations. There are extended long takes and - sure - Haneke is a better craftsman than either Eli Roth or James Wan, so from a filmmaking standpoint it’s far superior to those other films. But no matter how you slice it, it’s still torture all the same. Haneke just prefers his own brand of emotional torture. Instead of reveling in the excessive bloodletting, Haneke’s film is decidedly non-violent, turning a blind camera eye for every climatic, gory explosion and cheating the viewer out of any kind of retaliatory eruption. Funny Games revels in the aftereffects, lingering on endless shots of Haneke’s victims suffering, making the audience suffer right along with them. It’s a moralistic lesson that if Haneke could somehow make the opening night Saw crowds sit through and see the repercussions of this brand of brainless sadism it might actually make it worth something. But he missed his target audience… they don’t care. And neither do I.

The Forums: Topic I

Topic of the Week:

Name a Movie That You Know is Awful, Without Ever Having Seen It

and try not to name the obvious ones (ex: Superhero Movie)

The Fisher King (Terry Gilliam, 1991)

Back in 1991, after a decade of science fiction films such as The Adventures of Baron Manchusen, Brazil and Time Bandits, Terry Gilliam decided to try a smaller budgeted, more character-driven story called The Fisher King. He intended to film it directly from the script, without alteration, so as to avoid it becoming “a Terry Gilliam film.” He failed… but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. In spite of it being the first screenplay Gilliam had no hand in writing, The Fisher King is still very much “a Terry Gilliam film.” His flourishes are all over the place. The fantastical elements, the portrayal of the Red Knight, his world of extreme close-ups and distorted viewpoints, even the search for the Holy Grail recalls his Monty Python days. The story itself is a cross between King Arthur, 90’s shock jocks, tragedy and insanity. Definite earmarks of Gilliam’s work, both prior to Fisher King and yet to come. Jeff Bridges stars as Jack Lucas, a controversial radio DJ who spirals into a deep depression after one of his more outrageous claims drives a man to commit mass murder. Lucas may be lonely, pathetic and suicidal for most of the film… but no one makes being a loser look cooler than Jeff Bridges. He spends most of his days moping around drowning himself in liquor, until the time he decides better of it and decides to drown himself in the river instead. It’s at this time he’s attacked by two teenage hellions and is rescued by a crazy man named Parry (Robin Williams, naturally), who was driven to insanity after the death of his wife by – you guessed it – Lucas’ mass murderer. It’s an odd film to be sure (aren’t all of Gilliam’s films?) but it’s also a unique redemption story with a good sense of humor. Hearing Lucas’ banter around with Parry’s insanity is hilarious. For instance, when Williams asks Bridges what the ‘little people’ are telling him, Jack mocks him with a patronizing, “They're saying, ‘Jack, go to the liquor store and findeth the Jack of Daniels so that ye may be shitfaced!’" Also, there is a split reality vs. otherworldly sense to The Fisher King, yet another Gilliam trademark, as it tries to mix the Arthurian legend with 1990’s New York. All in all the film is wonderfully acted and Gilliam’s more fantastic displays are always visually arresting, but the film still feels more comfortable in its real world settings, letting Bridges’ dejected charmer guide us. It’s reminiscent of the petty problems I run into with a lot of Gilliam’s films, their lack of human emotion (It’s hard to get completely invested when the third act revolves around a ludicrous return of the teenage hellions). Still, the character interaction is very well done and makes you believe that Gilliam, maybe shockingly, is comfy in drama.

Harvey (Henry Koster, 1950)

I expected more. Listed at #35 on the American Film Institute’s record of “100 Years… 100 Laughs,” Harvey is ranked not among, but above, such classics as City Lights, Animal House and American Graffiti. How or why I’m not entirely sure. The film is pretty thoroughly devoid of humor and director Henry Koster spends most of his time exploiting the persona of his star, James Stewart, for his own benefit. Harvey seems to be a film constructed solely as a way for the viewer to spend a couple hours with James Stewart’s pleasant personality. And if that’s all you want, he and his good old boy, awww-shucks demeanor are in full display here as Elwood P. Dowd, a personable, potentially deranged fella who just happens to see a 6-foot, 3-and-a-half inch tall rabbit he calls Harvey. Harvey’s a pooka, what Wikipedia refers to as, “a mischievous, magical creature from Celtic mythology” and the only thing Elwood likes more than having conversations appears to be introducing this furry friend of his. Naturally, this causes problems for his family… because they can no longer throw dinner parties with Uncle Elwood around. Apparently it interferes with his niece’s social life (a girl’s gotta get married after all!), and his sister decides to have him committed for it. These two characters, his hag sister (Josephine Hull in a ghastly performance that somehow stole an Oscar) and his bratty niece, are both horrendously awful characters, such poor female incarnations that I was frankly shocked to see a woman (Mary Chase) had a hand in writing it. Also, James Stewart somehow manages to be the best part of and the biggest reason the film doesn’t work, all at the same time. He’s just so nice that it’s not funny when everyone starts acting irrationally around him, trying to lock up this perfectly charming guy. Sure, he’s a bit bonkers – but as the film seems to want to say – maybe it’s good to be a little mental? I’ll stick with Stewart on this one, who himself liked his West End theatre performance better, one that was darker and led you to believe Elwood might be truly unstable. That’s enough personal vindication for me.

Dark City (Alex Proyas, 1998)

Caught in the wake of the box office behemoth that was Titanic, Dark City got sucked under the tide, sputtering in with a weak $5 million opening and did little to distinguish itself at the box office. Since then, it has become a cult favorite of fans who’ve uncovered the science-fiction film on DVD. Count myself included. The former and currently indistinguishable character actor Rufus Sewell stars as John Murdoch, fittingly portraying a man suffering from amnesia (so, don’t worry, not even he knows who he is). He’s being pursued by the cops, specifically Inspector Frank Bumstead (William Hurt), for a series of grisly murders of local prostitutes that he does not remember committing… but considering he doesn’t remember much of anything, he decides to test whether he’s capable of such an act anyway. The set-up is similar to any classic noir detective story, with the protagonist trying to uncover clues as to the murders - and his own identity - all while avoiding trouble and/or capture. Well… it’s all in the detective model except for the fact that this all takes place in a city where the sun never shines, psychokinetic alien beings referred to as “Strangers” are monitoring human behavior and every night at midnight they alter our consciousness so that we believe we are someone entirely different than we were the night before. The film has startling and frequent comparisons to The Matrix (Dark City came first) including the fact that they used some of the same sets and both revolve around a main character who breaks a spell that the aliens/machines have over the human race. Murdoch eventually comes to uncover truths about who he is and learns to “tune” like the Strangers (the ability to alter reality by will) much in the same way Neo learns to alter the Matrix. Director Alex Proyas shows that he has a natural command of his visual settings, much in the manner of Tim Burton, but he’s not just doing an imitation here. Coupled with The Crow, Proyas proves to have a mastery of the dark-themed and shaded environments. Where the film slightly falters is in its conclusion. In order to truly harness his powers, Murdoch receives some of the worst, most obvious advice I’ve ever heard. On top of which, “tuning” is a mental attribute, so the concluding battle is basically an extended take of characters staring really, really hard, trying to overpower each other. And I thought those Harry Potter kids with their sticks were lame.

To Live and Die in L.A. (William Friedkin, 1985)

So totally 80’s in every aspect, director William Friedkin’s To Live and Die in L.A. is something of a time capsule for a decade full of sports cars, vibrant colors, outlandish clothing, cheesy one-liners… and awesome cop flicks. William Peterson stars as Richard Chance, a hotshot secret service agent who’s always tempting fate (hey, there’s something to that last name!), but the best role in the film goes to the short-lived Michael Greene as his partner Jimmy Hart. Hart is the type of aging department fixture who gets to spit out lines like “I’m getting too old for this shit!” and naturally, is only a few days away from retirement. He’s around just long enough to give our hero a bode of confidence with the surefire “there’s no other guy I’d want backing me up,” over a pint no less, then he receives the double-barrel shotgun blast to the chest that will provide our hero the proper motive for revenge. The man on the other end of that shotgun is a henchman for Eric Masters (Willem Dafoe), a counterfeiter that Chance and Hart had been investigating, searching for the whereabouts of his printing operation. The rest of the film plays out with Chance doing his best Dirty Harry impression, taking the law into his own hands with the help of his new partner and protégé John Vukovich, whom he informs, “I’m gonna bag Masters, and I don’t give a shit how I do it.” Chance starts making ethically questionable decisions, even illegal, trying to get the best of Masters… meanwhile, the two actors also seem to be having a personal battle of one-upmanship to out ‘cool’ one another (seriously, I’ve never seen so much glorious posturing and leather and scarf-wearing crammed into one film). This is most definitely California’s variation on “Miami Vice.” Even “Vice” producer Michael Mann felt that way, unsuccessfully trying to sue Friedkin for ripping him off. That might all make it seem like To Live and Die in L.A. is some kind of camp, but it’s better than that. What it is, is a thoroughly entertaining ride, much like the chase scene in the film that heads right into oncoming highway traffic. It’s at times brutal, shocking, amusing and engaging and it’s even got a couple tricks up its sleeve. Plus, it’s got a totally sweet synthesizer theme.

Cloverfield (Matt Reeves, 2008)

The atmosphere of Cloverfield is extraordinary. Crumbling New York City skyscrapers, raided electronic stores, organized makeshift medical centers, citywide evacuation teams and engaged army firefight battles all captured on a single roving handheld camera, cinema verite style, in much the same way a film like Children of Men used its techniques to drop you into the action but, you know, with monsters. It’s an entirely awesome idea. The difference being, Children of Men had a clear-cut purpose, some social commentary mixed in with a pretty nifty story about saving the entire human race, while Cloverfield has a couple of separated lovers, played by interchangeable twentysomething blank slates, trying to make their way back to one another. The monster is practically an afterthought here. There’s a scene halfway into Cloverfield’s running time when Rob (one of the aforementioned bores) gets his friends caught in the middle of a combat battle between a squad of soldiers and the monster. The camera - controlled by another one of the group members, Hud - stubbornly refuses to even acknowledge what’s going on. Instead we get a long shot of Rob and some girls huddling in the low level stairs across the street as the mêlée marches off screen. Unfortunately, it’s an archetype for what’s wrong with Cloverfield… we, as the viewers, are always pinned down watching these dumb kids while something endlessly more interesting heads off in the other direction. We’re not invested in the love story here, know nothing about its characters (a generous term) and it’s aggravating to be forced to watch their story unfold while you know something far more compelling is happening only steps away. The whole thing is akin to being forced into watching “The Real World” on MTV while the apocalypse is happening on the next channel. Admittedly, the cinematography and special effects are seamless, really top notch stuff especially for a creature feature, and the film works when it’s running through the streets of Manhattan with the monster picking people off left and right. The unfortunate thing is, because of how vapid and monotonous all these people are (the first twenty minutes where we are introduced to these people is excruciating), we’re actually rooting for Cloverfield to win. Because without characters, all you’re left with are some pretty pictures and sqaundered opportunities.

Note: Did anyone else find the movie a bit redundant as well? I mean c’mon, the monster is from Godzilla, the head of the Statue of Liberty idea is taken from Escape from New York’s poster, the camera trick and “found footage” concept is taken from The Blair Witch Project and some of the visuals are taken from War of the Worlds… or even worse, from 9/11 imagery. Plus, the dust clouds are definitely there to evoke 9/11, so why do nothing to comment on it?

Leatherheads (George Clooney, 2008)

George Clooney’s love for old Hollywood (The Good German, Good Night, and Good Luck) is coming out again in Leatherheads, a perfectly agreeable modernization of the slapstick comedy, that just ends up overstaying its welcome. In much the same way as classic films of the genre, such as Bringing Up Baby or It Happened One Night, Leatherheads works when the focus is on the repartee between its stars Clooney and Renee Zellweger, putting them in impractical situations and having them throw comedic grenades at one another. Slapstick comedies themselves are modeled in a sort of absurdist fantasy world already, an exaggerated, sentimentalized reality where police chases are played for hi-jinks and bar room brawls can just as easily segue into drunken sing-a-long sessions. So obviously you need to have a sense of humor about yourself to do this genre… and Clooney is totally game as Dodge Connolly, a professional footballer who schemes up an idea to save the financially strapped Duluth Bulldogs for which he plays. Dodge persuades recent war hero and Ivy-league football star Carter Rutherford to join the team, at a cost. And reporter Lexie Littleton (Zellweger) tags along with him, trying to “cook (Carter’s) goose” for an assistant editor job at the Chicago Tribune. From the very beginning Clooney’s winking at the camera, but in a way that stays somehow true to his character… he’s the loveable goof and he shows a killer sense of comic timing (he hasn’t been this funny since O, Brother, Where Art Thou?). Zellweger manages to play a nice counterpart, returning the banter with equal gamesmanship but brings with her some annoying baggage, a plot. This film is always best when it’s about nothing at all, when the film can get away with gags, revel in its 1920s football scene or sit back with Clooney drink-in-hand and not have to worry too much about hitting story points. It’s when the film gets bogged down trying to further its – rather poorly written – narrative that it starts to struggle towards the goal line. There are obvious tone and pacing problems (and the football game finale grinds everything to a halt) but for a good long while the film coasts by on the charm of its star… and his obvious love for the time period and genre he’s portraying.

RIP Charlton Heston

1923-2008

Oldboy (Chan-wook Park, 2005)

A buddy of mine calls Oldboy the “most unjustified revenge (story) in the history of the world.” He might be right… but it doesn’t matter either way, because by the time the tale winds down, the film is only loosely interested in the act of revenge. The end of the film concentrates the story on how even the smallest triviality in one’s life can affect another’s exponentially. That’s what all that talk about, “Be it a rock or a grain of sand, in water they sink as the same” means. Revenge is the hook – it is the second film in Chan-wook Park’s “Vengeance Trilogy” after all – but examining the weight of your actions is the real focus. Oh Dae-Su (Min-sik Choi) starts the film as an overweight, drunken mess of a man. He’s been arrested and his brother has come to bail him out, with Dae-Su all the while acting like a petulant, uncontrollable child. The two wander into the alley only after Oh Dae-Su has turned back and taunted his captors. His brother heads off to make a phone call for him (it’s his daughter’s birthday) but when he calls for Dae-Su, he’s gone. We find out soon after that Oh Dae-Su has been abducted, penned up in a crummy, ramshackle apartment. He’s kept there and fed through a slot at the foot of the door, treated like an animal. Dae-Su spends his days training for battle, writing notebooks-worth of regrets and enemies, searching for who’s to blame and for ways out of his cage. 15 years pass. At about the time he’s finally burrowed through the wall, Dae-Su wakes up on the roof of a building… payback the only thing on his mind. The rest of the film finds Oh Dae-Su in a blindingly rage, searching for the person responsible for his imprisonment, tracking down clues and most of all the reason “WHY?” What results is a largely brilliant, sometimes convoluted, fit of furious vengeance. There are some grotesquely bloody scenes scattered throughout (both at Oh Dae-Su’s benefit and expense) and also what may possibly be the single greatest fight scene in the history of filmmaking, a one-shot bravura hallway hammer fight sequence pitting Dae-Su against a gang of men that made me absolutely giddy with delight. Chan-wook Park certainly does not let it fall into the usual, simplified one-on-one fistfight. Again, Park’s filmmaking skills are in full effect – this dude is mad talented - but Oldboy has less winking at the camera than his predecessor did (Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance) and thus works better, because Park’s decisions are for the betterment of his story… and not just to humor himself. That’s what makes Oldboy such a fantastic film, not only it’s hugely rewarding storyline, but the chance to watch a filmmaker come into his own.

In the Screening Room - Robert Redford's Ordinary People

Session 017 - Ordinary People

Who saw it and what are your thoughts on it?

Death at a Funeral (Frank Oz, 2007)

Death at a Funeral is one of those ingratiating comedies that won’t settle for just being bad, it has to be confrontationally awful. Honestly, if this film were a man… I’d punch him. It’s not only unfunny in just about every imaginable way, but it goes for a consistent blend of cheap and grotesque laughs. Is an old curmudgeonly grandpa who needs help defecating and a man who accidentally overdoses on drugs (Alan Tudyk) and starts to hallucinate (a gag so hilarious we get to witness it twice) really the best they could come up with? Then, after he’s done sticking his head in the bushes, Alan also gets to strip down for a large portion of the film’s interminable 90 minute running time apparently because naked people are hilarious… especially when they’re on rooftops. This all transpires around the wake of a very fortunate individual who no longer has to deal with any of these people anymore and who’s only contribution to the film will be to be dumped out of his casket and have his memory smeared by photos that he had a secretive homosexual affair with a dwarf. Are you laughing yet? Peter Dinklage shows up to play the thankless dwarf role, only to be ogled, mocked, threatened and hand out a few acting lessons to the rest of this pitiful cast. The film is so shamelessly horrendous, I can only imagine that’s what they were going for. If so, congratulations.

The Descent (Neil Marshall, 2006)

A scene after the gruesome, untimely death of her husband and daughter in a car accident (for which she was to blame), Sarah (Shauna Macdonald) awakens, healing in a hospital bed. She springs upright, walks out into the hallway and notices that the lights in the seemingly endless corridor are shutting down on her one by one, enveloping her in darkness. She starts to run, the shadows threatening to overtake her at every step. But will she be swallowed up by it or can she escape? It’s a cool, visual precursor to the rest of the film… as later on Sarah will without a doubt find herself in the same sort of situation. Sure enough, a year removed from their whitewater rafting trip (the accident took place immediately afterwards) Sarah is lured into a cave diving expedition with five of her extreme sports-loving mates as a sort of soul-cleansing, friendship-renewing experience. But the girls get rerouted into some uncharted portions of the cavern, courtesy of their friend Juno’s (Natalie Mendoza) unwise efforts to have the girls discover a new path they could name after themselves. Then they meet a white, ghoulish creature in the cavern depths, shit hits the fan and bodies begin dropping like flies. From there on, director Neil Marshall puts his head down and races towards the hell-raising, bloody finish line just as Sarah had opened the film. It’s a great little tale of terror that thankfully is largely grounded in reality (even its creatures have an authenticity to them that puts the vampires in the much higher-budgeted I Am Legend to shame). Sure, there is a bit of an over-reliance on “jump out at you” scares in the first half and a couple of – obviously supporting – characters who do some typically idiotic things to get themselves hurt and/or much worse. But the film is technically sound, it’s tough and keeps the story speeding along. Plus Marshall is able to capture some startling images, even while his film is drenched in darkness. I can only imagine how much better this film would have played on the big screen, surrounded by the theater's blackness, with only the flash lights and flares to light the way.

Must See Movie of the Month: April 2008

Who else wants to see it and what are your "must see's" of the month?

Other Notables:
Leatherheads, Shine a Light, My Blueberry Nights (hey, it finally gets released!), Smart People, Street Kings, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Baby Mama, Where in the World is Osama Bin Laden?, Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay

Happy Together (Wong Kar Wai, 1997)

Adding new shadings to Wong Kar-Wai’s already extremely rich filmography, Happy Together is another of the director’s celebrated, deeply felt love stories… this one just so happens to be about two men. I don’t know how Wong Kar-Wai does it, typically starting to film a movie without a finished script… just an idea and some characters to guide him, but he always seems to be able to capture the purest form of relationships, regardless of gender. Of course because of the improvisational nature of his filmmaking his shoots are known for their extensive (read: indulgent) length, but Kar-Wai has a natural ability to whittle away the extraneous footage, parsing them down to very often find the masterpiece buried within. Maybe it’s his style in and of itself that results in such honest moments, maybe only through spontaneity can there truly be genuineness? Whatever it is, it helped him walk away with the Best Director and Best Picture awards at Cannes in 1997, becoming the first Chinese auteur to do so. And what resulted from the 6 month shoot (and undoubtedly massive amount of footage) is a story about Yiu-Fai (acting God Tony Leung) and Po-Wing , the combustible nature of their partnership and why individuals so often return to lovers that have left them heartbroken in the past and finding the inner strength to be able to leave your sadness behind you. Po-Wing is the type of restless soul that seems trapped in a relationship, seeming to so often get bored by its repetition. But despite his tendency to break up almost by habit, Yiu-Fai can not seem to say no to him when Po-Wing will undoubtedly return, always so simply saying “let’s start over.” Just as so many of Wong Kar-Wai’s films tend to be, this one is about individual, heartfelt moments complimented by visually perfect cinematography often capturing these instants as if by accident… such as through a window glass or from a handheld, intensely personal perspective. And as usual, the music is there to offer a beautiful, melodic companion to it, enhancing the tone and the atmosphere that Kar-Wai conjures up. Admittedly, the film never shies away from the sexuality of this companionship, which at first made me slightly uneasy (the first scene throws you right into their bedroom), but as in a film like Brokeback Mountain after a point you forget… you’re just amazed at their ability to capture love so vividly on screen.

Recent Watches: April 2008

A new month, another posting forum for all your recent watches.

Meanwhile, I'm going to try and continue this film-capsule-a-day pace that I've got going, but also try to mix in some other topics for discussion (I'd like to get back to having a "Top 7" post each month for one) and I will eventually just start posting random questions I find on the RT messageboards for our debate over here. For now, here's the forum... tomorrow comes the "Must See Movie of the Month."