Category: Movies

“The Hangover” (2009)

Movies

I got the groom to the wedding, after making sure he had the time of his life. The bride, of course, was pissed. And the groom and my friendship soon disintegrated.

That was both the first, and last, time I was in charge of a bachelor party. That was 15 years ago.

The evening included lesbians, binge drinking, strippers, gambling (and winning!), the phrase “A round of drinks on the house!”, taxicabs, the groom passing out and requiring first aid, many venue changes, and very little sleep.

It did not include traveling to another city, animals barnyard or exotic, surprise elopements, or criminal elements (that I’m aware of).

If the one I was in charge of is any indication, a bachelor party is a source of much material for stories written and filmed. Even a tame one, like the one I was in charge of, would, if filmed, make for much entertainment. And with just a bit of exaggeration, a truly epic movie could be made.

Like, say, “The Hangover”. The main characters in The Hangover start the movie in deep trouble. They’re out in the desert, scarred, scared, and in possession of a nearly-destroyed vintage Mercedes-Benz. Phil (Bradley Cooper, playing the charming live-for-the-moment member of the party) is calling the bride to tell her that, well, they lost Doug (Justin Bartha). The bride is livid; don’t they know that she is getting married in five hours?!

“Yeah,” Phil says, laconically if sympathetically. “That’s not gonna happen.”

And the movie then flashes back to show the lead-up to this grave situation.

The best part is, the movie doesn’t actually show the events in question. No, after some set-up, it jumps forward and leaves the men nothing but a handful of clues with which they are supposed to retrace their steps and find their friend; Phil is wearing a bracelet from a hospital; Stu (played by a hilarious Ed Helms), the normally co-dependent doctor dentist, has an ATM receipt from the Bellagio for Eight Thousand Dollars; there’s a live tiger in the suite’s bathroom, and a chicken wandering around the (literally) smoking remains of the hotel room; a mattress that they, somehow, recognize as belonging to the groom is impaled on a statue outside the hotel, as if flung from a great height; and Alan (Zach Galifianakis), the befuddled, mysterious, vaguely threatening brother of the bride, has discovered a baby in a closet (which produces almost no surprise, considering it’s not the first time he’s found a baby).

And the three men have literally no memory of the night.

Do the men learn a valuable lesson about male friendship and reach a place of peace with their choices in life? Who the hell cares? As the work their way backward in Las Vegas, the stakes continue to be raised and many, many laughs are had.

My one complaint about the movie is that the three female roles are not even sketches of real women; the anxious bride, the shrewish controlling girlfriend of Stu, and the stripper/escort Jade (the still-innocent Heather Graham), are barely there. I suppose that’s inevitable in a movie like this, which is more about the Hollywood myth of bromance than actual real-life relationships. For that matter, the male characters aren’t much more than a handful of quirks themselves. Charming quirks, though.

Wait… wonder whatever happened to the friend whose bachelor party I was responsible for? Did his shrewish wife force him to disavow me as a friend after we showed up, barely on time for the wedding, the groom so hungover he had to wear sunglasses inside? Whatever happened to his brother, the socially-awkward repressed kid? And why can’t I remember the names of the two lesbians who accompanied us that night, and what their relationship was to the rest of us? What happened to all the money I won at video poker?

Hmmm… either I’m a living stereotype, or Hollywood might just have something to tell us about ourselves, after all.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpOdCWaTsIk&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0]

“The Brothers Bloom” (2009)

Movies

Going to a movie is like dreaming in public. Images and sounds projected into a dark, curtained space; people whispering back and forth but mostly silent (if you’re lucky); faces turned all in the same direction, illuminated by the flickering light.

There are many ways to enjoy a movie. You can examine the philosophical points raised in it; you can let the pure visceral id experience of the action and images wash over you without delving too deeply; you can dissect it with the expert eye of a graphic artist or cinéast; Or you can view it as a writer, enjoying the plot and characters and how they interact. Or, of course, a little bit of some or all of those.

It may not surprise you that I primarily view movies as a writer. I love to pay attention not simply to what the plot points are, but in how they are told. How are the characters’ personalities and motivations explained to the audience? Does it depend on the dialogue and actions, or upon the actors’ craft? Do the choices that the characters make sense?

In other words, I love stories. I love telling them. I love paying attention to them.

The Brothers Bloom is a movie that is about a pair of con men brothers and the sequestered heiress that is their current target. It is also a love story, between one of the brothers and the heiress, just like many con movies before it; the question asked is the familiar, “Is he actually falling in love with her, or is it part of the con?” And it’s also, of course, a love story between the two brothers, who start out with the familiar tension found in paired confidence men; one of them loves the whole enterprise, and the other wants to get out.

The movie is also a philosophical treatise on free will vs. determinism, finding an answer to the question “Is it possible to live an unscripted life?”

But the writer/director, Rian Johnson, is far more inventive and lively than my simple description makes it sound. Bloom (Adrien Brody) is the younger brother, and I may have missed why the pair is collectively known by his name, and he is a lost soul, the deep thinker, the one who sees their life as nothing but lies. Stephen (Mark Ruffalo) is the older brother and he embraces his role in the pair as that of a writer, imbuing their con games with themes, dramatic arcs, and subtext. Their target for the movie is Penelope (Rachel Weisz), who is beautiful but more than a little socially awkward since she’s lived her entire life on a ridiculous estate somewhere in a magical New Jersey. In pursuit of the con, the three of them, along with Bang Bang (Rinko Kikuchi), their silent aid and explosives expert, travel to Montenegro, and Prague, and St. Petersberg; they travel by ship, and by train, and once by modern jetliner; part of the charm of the movie is its mix-and-match approach to technology and fashion.

I want to recap this movie, but honestly, it would be a dry and lifeless retelling. What I recall most are the small moments between the characters.

For example: Bloom saying goodbye to Penelope for the first time after she eagerly subverted the brothers’ script for introducing them to her. He stands outside the estate, mouthing the words of his script, and Penelope realizes that he’s leaving, after having given her a real (to her) honest conversation for the first time in forever. He reaches out to shake her hand while he speaks, and the camera cuts to a closeup that shows his thumb lightly rubbing her wrist and barely touching and reaching under the cuff of her sweater. Cut to her face, and a blush, as obviously an effect as the oft-parodied glint on a movie hero’s smile, paints her cheeks, and yet Weisz sells the look with her eyes.

Perhaps it’s because I am currently in the throes of love myself, but I felt that caress along with Bloom and Penelope. My life has seemed unscripted so often in the past, and it has left me wanting a better story, an honest story. I think I have found it, and it’s more than a bit shocking to see the emotional core on the screen of a downtown multiplex, told with idealism and humor but (there’s that word again) honesty, too.

This movie is fucking amazing.

Thoughts after a third viewing of “Star Trek”

Movies

[Note: Spoilers for “Star Trek” follow]

  1. I have a huge totally straight man-crush on Karl Urban’s Dr. McCoy. Still.
  2. Not only do the giant water tanks and transparent (transparent aluminum?) water tubes seem a bit incongruous on the new Enterprise, I think whoever designed and routed them needs some instruction in simplicity and efficiency. Was there some need, other than to make an entertaining action set-piece, for the tubes to run every which direction before terminating in a giant potentially-Scotty-killing turbine?
  3. Getting a promotion in Starfleet seems super easy! Here are two possibilities:

    • Get recruited after losing a bar fight, cheat on your final exam, sneak onto a starship during a military engagement (twice), and get the acting captain (a Vulcan (OK, technically a half-Vulcan) to completely lose his shit and resign his commission. That gets you to Captain.
    • Abandon your ship to fly into a trap, get captured, tortured, and give up the defenses for Earth. That gets you all the way to Admiral!

  4. On the other hand, defending your homeworld (unsuccessfully), shooting malcontent stowaways into space, giving out crew assignments on the basis of sexual favors, destroying random bridge consoles in fits of rage, and advocating against peaceful diplomacy and mercy – all that will only get you busted back to the second-most important position on a Starfleet vessel, while retaining your rank and commission.
  5. Given Scotty’s propensity to test his crazy transporter theories on animals, perhaps he was using the tribble as a quickly reproducing test subject? Just feed it and you’ve got plenty of lifeforms to beam around!
  6. Still love the casualness of the bad guy. “Hi, Christopher. I’m Nero.”
  7. Are we sure this isn’t the mirror universe? I will not be surprised if Zachary Quinto grows a goatee for the sequel. Not surprised and at least a bit delighted.

Spoiler-free “Star Trek” review

Movies

I’ve been worried about Captain Kirk.

More specifically, I’ve been worried that Chris Pine, who was cast as a young James T. Kirk in the new Star Trek franchise reboot, just didn’t have the chops to make me believe he was a younger version of William Shatner’s cocky, swaggering, speechifying Captain Kirk. The promotional pictures, and the few million clips and trailers I’ve seen in the last several months, just did not go far enough to convince me.

Still, Zachary Quinto is physically about as close as someone could get to a young Leonard Nimoy, and Quinto’s portrayal of Sylar on NBC’s “Heroes” certainly shows he can play “emotionless”.

And, while I enjoy Simon Pegg’s past performances (particularly “Shaun of the Dead”), he really didn’t look like James “Scotty” Doohan at all. But I’d be willing to give him the benefit of the doubt on pure personality alone.

The rest of the canonical bridge crew of the Enterprise everyone remembers was given to a bunch of young kids I’ve paid almost no attention to prior to finding out they were in this movie.

…except for the role of Dr. Leonard McCoy. Wait a minute, what? Eomer is playing Bones? How is that a good move?

I always knew I would see this movie when it came out. What I wasn’t sure of was whether I would buy it or not.

Or so I thought. This clip1 totally sold me:

I’ve watched that clip many times prior to seeing the movie. And during the movie, after that scene, I turned to my girlfriend, Lindsey and said, basically, “Squeeee!“2

I saw the movie with a group of friends. Some I’ve known a long time, some I’ve known a shorter time. Some were fans of Star Trek and action movies; some were not. We drove out to the mall in which I spent much of my formative teenage and young adult life, so that we could see it in digital projection with awesome sound.

And we all enjoyed it, I think. The writers were faced with an enormous task; to take the mountains of backstory, some official and much of it unofficial but widely accepted by the fans, and still manage to make a movie that’s watchable, that covers a significant point in the characters’ lives, that doesn’t descend into boring pseudo-scientific Treknobabble that has marked some of the later excursions into the Star Trek universe.

Holy crab, did they succeed.

In fact, without going in to spoilers, they took the most basic tentpole of the Star Trek storytelling technique, a technique that’s been used in good Trek and bad Trek, and used it to refresh the characters and, almost literally, reboot the franchise. Yes, these are in fact James Kirk, Spock, McCoy.

No, you have no idea what’s going to happen next.

Congratulations to all involved. You did it. I love this movie.

1 Sorry about the branded video clip. The non-branded one I found earlier has been pulled by Paramount’s sharks in suits lawyers.

2 Luckily, Lindsey is awesome and did not hold my fanboy-ish joy against me at all.

Past as prologue

Movies, Politics, reviews

In 1985, I was 20 years old.

Of all the factors that our society considered the hallmarks of adulthood, I had some but not others. No job, no car, unable to drink alcohol legally, still living with my parents. Yet I could vote, I had a steady, long-term girlfriend, whom I had met in high school. I was not a virgin. And I could think.

I knew that I was a citizen of the United States, and that the country and the leadership of my county were locked in a deadly enmity with the Union of Soviet Socialist Republic, and that the weapon of choice for expressing that animosity was the nuclear bomb. Both my country and the enemy had access to nukes; horrible weapons that did not just destroy the target, large targets, targets the size of large cities, but which also rendered the targets uninhabitable for decades, centuries, and caused deformations and illness in any victim unlucky enough to have survived the initial blast.

And both sides didn’t just have one or two or a dozen of these bombs. They had hundreds. More than were necessary to merely “win” a “war”. Enough to wipe each other out, and every ally, and everyone else, all over the world.

The strategy being pursued by my government, and the enemy (my government told me), for prevailing over the enemy was astonishingly insane: the strategy was to build more and more of these bombs, in order to scare the other side into not using their own bombs.

The madness that you and I now live under, the madness that caused men in caves to fly a jetliner full of innocents into large buildings, and the madness that caused our country’s leadership to respond by invading a country they despised but had not direct connection to the attack of the men in caves, is almost understandable compared to my memories of the Cold War. Almost.

But back in 1985, it was such a horrible dark cloud hanging over the heads of all Americans that our responses were, by and large, anger. Punk rock is hard to define, but for me it will always include an anti-authoritarian, cynical, and political viewpoint, along with the feeling that, if we’re all going to die we might as well have fun. And punk rock was born under the threat of mutually assured destruction.

Punk rock was part of a sub-culture that included comic books and bad movies. And in contrast to the conduit that the internet gives to making sure sub-cultures reach everyone interested today, back in 1985 sub-cultures were both more tightly-knit and harder to find and join. I had few people with which to discuss the paltry few comic books I read. I had few people with which to pick apart the lyrics to a song by the Clash or Bad Religion. I had to come to my own conclusions, by and large, about what, exactly, Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons were outlining in their 12-issue limited series “Watchmen”.

I didn’t get it at first. I didn’t understand that the characters of Ozymandias, Rorschach and Dr. Manhattan were created out of whole cloth, with a complete backstory (there were previous versions of Nite Owl and Silk Spectre). I didn’t see the depth that the Tales of the Black Freighter, a story of pirates and survival at sea, gave to the main story of the Mask Killer.

But I did understand the alienation of John “Dr. Manhattan” Osterman, a man who was given nearly unlimited power and found himself more and more detached from the fragile people around him. I did understand the Doomsday Clock, which gave us all a sense of how close we were to annihilation by nuclear holocaust, and its use in the comic. I did feel deeply affected by the depiction of heroes as sociopaths: the Comedian and Rorschach had their bizarre twisted ideas of right and wrong, each a viewpoint I could see in those around me. Kids I grew up with who worshipped the guns and armor used in Vietnam without understanding or caring about the human cost of the same. Cops who saw evil and crime everywhere but never looked at how far into criminality they themselves descended. I saw the point of asking who polices the policemen; how do we hold accountable those who we entrust with our safety so that we can remain free?

And, of course, the madness of trying to win a nuclear war.

Who the Hell were these people? Were they really the same species as me? Yes, I often felt anger and disillusionment, but it nearly always turned inward. If I were faced with a Darth Vader, a dark father intent on corrupting me, I would respond as Luke Skywalker did in “The Empire Strikes Back” and fall to my doom rather than fight back. Protecting myself by wiping myself out, and fuck all y’all; you’re on your own.

I had no goals, I could see no future, beyond hoping I was still around next week, next month, next year.

I read every issue of Watchmen while standing in the 7-11 near my house. Standing in front of a wire rack in a convenience store, plate glass in front of me showing the ebb and tide of cars and customers in and out of the parking lot and the flow of traffic on the street beyond, hearing the bells and beeps of the video games and pinball machines off in the corner, and needing the brief escape from the emptiness of the rest of my life.

Yesterday I sat in a theater, beside my best friend from those days, and watched Zak Snyder’s adaptation of “Watchmen”. Many were the moments I remembered the kid I used to be; the feeling of the paper beneath my fingers, the look of four-color printing showing earlier versions of the scenes digitally projected onto the screen in front of me. I had not read the books in years, many years, and yet Snyder’s faithfulness to the comic’s words and images meant many small nostalgic moments during the 163 minute film’s run.

I want to know if anyone whose experience doesn’t include the hopelessness of living under threat of the entire world coming to an end can feel the same thing I felt watching the movie and recalling that I and everyone I know and everyone else might die due to the insanity of my government’s idea of defense. I want to know if anyone who didn’t try to escape entirely into a fantasy world, learning the ins and outs of costumed heroes and Jedi Knights and paladins and rangers and rogues, can feel what I feel when seeing those fantasies being portrayed by living human beings. Is that possible?

Are these feelings I have… nostalgia? That’s what I felt when watching “Watchmen”. So lost I was, and the world was, then.

Not sure we’ve come very far since then, either.

“Coraline” IN 3D

Movies

Neil Gaiman, author of the book “Coraline”, has this to say on the subject of where to sit when watching a 3D movie:

“@lunarobverse for 3D movies you don’t normally want to be in the front couple of rows, and middle’s seems preferable.”

I have to admit, getting a direct answer from the author of the book that was translated into a movie to my question about where to sit has me feeling more than a little bit fanboy-ish.

I love the immediate feeling of connection I get from Twitter. I actually posted my question while waiting in the lobby prior to the movie, while the theater personnel were cleaning the theater, just 20 minutes before the movie was to start. I posted the question from my iPhone, on a whim. And had my answer in plenty of time to adjust where I was sitting to take full advantage of 3D during the film.

Even some of the previews were in 3D, and for the most part, it worked: the preview for “Monsters vs. Aliens” actually looked almost enjoyable from a technical standpoint, although I still suspect it lacks the depth of any random Pixar flick. Except, perhaps, for Pixar’s next flick, “Up”, which leaves me feeling underwhelmed. Really, Pixar? A movie about a grumpy old man who wants to get away from everyone? Of course, I’ll still go see it in the theater, but color me skeptical.

Oh, wait, this was supposed to be a review of “Corline” IN 3D. I got distracted by the special effects for a moment, and the tiny interaction with one of the films’ originators.

I have not read the book on which the movie is based, but the film was sufficiently creepy from the very start. Coraline is a little girl who feels neglected by her parents and alienated from her friends and hometown; the family has just moved to a rainy little place called Oregon, and her parents are always grumpy and nose-deep in their writing and computers. Little Coraline goes exploring and soon stumbles on a parallel world where her Other Mother and Other Father are happy, doting, and giving people who cultivate a garden that looks like Coraline and bake all her favorite foods and buy all her choices in clothes and do nothing but play games with her.

So of course the ones who spoil her and lavish attention on her are the bad guys.

Seeing the movie with adult eyes, I felt creeped out by all the attention the Other Mother and Other Father gave to the little girl. I wonder if any of that translated so well to the younger members of the audience. I would be surprised if it did not, though I have only my own instincts to go on.

I’m glad I got to see the movie in 3D; with only a couple of scenes near the beginning and during the end credits, the effect was used to simply give depth and perspective to the movie, and not to shock and reach out of the screen. The level of detail to the world was evident.

I recommend the movie. If you can see it in 3D, more the better – but hurry, because apparently the 3D screens are being slowly replaced with some Disney Jonas Brothers thing. Ugh.

Somber

Movies

Here’s what I knew about “The Reader” before I saw it Sunday:

  • It has been nominated for a Best Picture Oscar.
  • It stars Kate Winslet.
  • It has some connection to the Holocaust.

All of those things are true.

The movie itself is somber, which is expected for a movie that has some connection to the Holocaust. But that is not the only theme. The script also deals with how normal people can be involved in the most heinous crimes, and how best for us to pass along the stories and lessons of the past, and the murky ethics of seducing teenagers, and whether one has a moral imperative to save someone who appears unwilling to be saved.

“The Reader” may join the list of movies that I enjoyed once, but never really wish to see again. It’s given me much to think about.

“The Wrestler” (2009)

Movies

Yeah, yeah, Mickey Rourke turned in an amazing nuanced performance, subdued and beaten in the real world, powerful and assured in the ring, but the scenes in The Wrestler that I found to be most realistic were in the strip club.

Man, some of those awkward, are-they-friends-or-are-they-working conversations between (naked nearly all the time) Marissa Tomei and Mickey Rourke could have been lifted straight from my life circa 1992-’98.

When I pointed this out, Kevin said after the movie, “It’s apparently not just you, after all.”

(I should write a full review but this should suffice for now.)

Rags-to-riches

Movies, reviews

Yesterday I scratched another movie off my Oscar best picture list.

I saw “Slumdog Millionaire” in a packed matinee theater.

Here’s what I knew going in: it’s a rags-to-riches story about a poor kid who gets on a game show, and it might be a musical. Oh, and the leading lady is stunningly beautiful.

Here’s what I learned while watching it: it’s set in India, specifically in Mumbai. It is not a musical. It’s directed by Danny Boyle, an Irish working-class guy whose previous movies include an awesome zombie movie, a sci-fi flop, and a movie about drug addicts. And the structure of the movie intrigued me as a writer.

Jamal Malik (Dev Patel) is being tortured because he’s suspected of cheating in India’s version of the game show “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?” Seems the local corrupt constabulary don’t believe that a kid who grew up in the slums could possibly know all the various trivia that lets him work his way up the ladder until he’s on the verge of winning twenty million rupees (about US$407,000 – not a lot to you and me, but I’d imagine it’s a life-changing amount of money in India).

Jamal has had no formal education, he’s scammed his way around India with his cruel but loyal older brother, Salim, and his only goal in life is to find, and rescue, Latika, the young girl who joined the two brothers as the third Musketeer to their Athos and Porthos but was kept by a Mumbaikar Fagin and forced into a life of crime.

But as he tells how he knows the answer to each trivia question, the movie flashes back to show the specific circumstances that led to him gaining that knowledge. The coincidences add up as the movie fills in his squalid life until he’s got a semi-respectable job as a “chai wallah” (tea server) in a customer call center, but I never lost my willingness to suspend belief. I did sometimes recall Cliff Claven’s dream board in Jeopardy, but Boyle and his screenwriter Simon Beaufoy (who adapted the novel “Q&A” by Vikas Swarup) never play it for laughs and each incident seems organic and natural. It’s only on reflection after the fact that I began to question it all, and by then the charm of the story had overcome any misgivings I had.

In fact, now that I think about it, the story parallels the rise of an adherent of Hinduism through the ranks of the four Puruṣārthas, or goals of a human existence. But I don’t know much about that beyond what’s in Wikipedia. Someone more scholarly than I is invited to analyze the story from that perspective.

Me? I just enjoyed the hell out of that movie.

“Let The Right One In”

Movies

Since it was my first visit to Living Room Theaters, I’m tempted to review the theater, rather than the movie. Large, comfy seats, foot rests, an upscale bar/dining room attached, in-theater service, premium sound and crisp all-digital projection, and only a small premium over the “regular” theaters (my matinée was $9)… nice. Only downside was a distracting reflection on the screen, but it wasn’t enough to bug the management about.

Still, as my first movie of 2009, the film itself deserves some mention. It’s about a lonely kid who meets a strange kid in the woods one night. The strange one doesn’t mind the cold, is smart enough to solve a Rubik’s cube at first sight, and one night, attacks and kills a grown man, drinking his blood.

Yeah, she’s a vampire.

Yes, I said “she”. This ain’t “Twilight”. It’s “Låt den rätte komma in” (“Let The Right One In”), a Swedish import. It’s creepy and sweet and sometimes hilarious (apparently cats, in Sweden, hate vampires to an extent I didn’t think possible)… but mostly creepy.

Eli, the vampire girl, played by Lina Leandersson, has that other-worldly affect and world-weariness that seems far beyond her years. Truthfully, so does Oskar (Kåre Hedebrant), due to his preternatural, almost albino, blondeness.

Oskar doesn’t seem to know what he’s getting in to by befriending, and more, a vampire. Or care, which sends a chill down my spine. Hey, she convinces him to fight back against the bully who torments him at school. It all seems to end up all right – or does it? The fate of Eli’s dad at the end of the second act hints at a darker ending in store for Oskar.