Effing Movies

There’s something about the fall that makes me start thinking cinematically. The barometric pressure, ambient temperatures, and change in lighting angles seem to conjure up crisply framed scenes accompanied by poignant soundtracks in my mind for the most mundane of daily activities. The camera cuts to a strait overhead shot as I sit hunched, head in my left hand, shoveling oatmeal into my mouth in the semi-light of 6:37am. The colours are muted and the contrast high as Dire Straits subtly compliments the quiet clink of silverware and the muffled thwack of the morning paper hitting the door. With the embers of the day smoldering over the bucolic spread of vineyards and dilapidated barns, the camera pans along with a sprinting Honda as Bob Seager growls out Roll Me Away. I have these moments at other times of the year, but they seem to intensify and proliferate in the cooling environs of the fall, so in that spirit I've decided to renew my movie reviewing efforts. As per the previous review post, I’ll only review one film thoroughly and leave the rest to scores and highlights.

Since the last film review post I have seen a staggering 10 films. They are, in chronological order:

1. Born into Brothels
   
2. Capote
   
3. Memento
4. Charade
   
5. The Boondock Saints
6. Mr. and Mrs. Smith
7. The Chorus
8. Weird Science
   
9. Knocked Up
10. F**K
    

Maybe it’s the serial position effect or maybe it’s my affinity for the taboo, but I’ve decided to give the feature to the most recent documentary I saw, F**K.

Carl Jung believed that we are all connected through a collective unconscious, and as such the Universe will tell us things that are, that have been and that will be if we pay attention. All week people have been randomly dropping the eff-bomb all around me, and last night (Saturday) I ended up watching Steve Anderson’s documentary on the word. I have no idea what the Universe might be trying to tell me through that, but I sincerely hope that it’s not an omen of things to come.

This documentary did three things very well. It let me know what Ice Tea thinks about the eff-bomb. It let me know what Drew Carey thinks about the eff-bomb. It also cleared up the urban legend that it is an acronym of some sort, which is a spurious urban legend according to the many distinguished linguists they paraded across the screen. Expecting a smart and well-crafted film about the history and utility of society’s most exciting and well-known taboo, the film ended up being more of a smorgasbord of famous opinions about the value of censorship and either idolization or vilification of the eff word, a la ‘I Love the 80’s.’

The movie was far from void, I don’t mean to give a completely pejorative vibe on the thing. It was generally well shot, there was an interesting cast of interviews from Sam Donaldson to Tera Patrick and everyone in between. There were some interesting segments over the linguistic flexibility of the word (it can be used legitimately as almost every part of speech), its history and the public debate over its use in several different contexts, and an honest effort to provide some contrast in opinion. In the end, however, the film ended up coming off juvenile due largely to some poorly constructed segments arguing for a categorical absolution of FCC regulation. Based entirely on Red Herring arguments about increasing fines under the Bush administration and some half-baked parenting philosophy pitched by Kevin Smith, it was 25 minutes of shaky rhetoric and shoddy diatribes that lost the film a lot of the luster it had previously garnered. It’s not everything I hoped it would be, but it’s a good film for everyone who’s ever muttered it under their breath after an excruciating exam or screamed it at a roommate after they ate your last lasagna again and took your calculator to study in the library when you needed it for a test.
Grade: B-

Scores and Highlights:

Born into Brothels: If someone had told me three years ago that it was possible to shoot an uplifting documentary about children born to generational prostitutes in Calcutta's red-light district, I would have had a hard time believing them. Zana Briski was able to manage just that in this stirring picture of the impact of one woman’s refusal to be content with moral outrage and instead commited her life to brightening an otherwise dark situation. Witnessing the change in how the children composed not only their photographs but also their lives was nothing short of miraculous.
Grade: A-

Capote: Phillip Seymore Hoffman is superb in this relentless film about Truman Capote’s pursuit of his groundbreaking non-fiction fiction piece In Cold Blood. The film didn’t do much for me other than give me an appreciation for the spent-uranium durability of the author and provide a fascinating look into the life of the midwife of modern American literature. The writing, acting, directing and pacing are all accomplished at the highest levels. So yeah, I guess it kinda did do a lot for me after all.
Grade: B+

Memento: I hadn’t seen this film in a long time and I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed it. I’m not sure if I’ve seen a film before or since as conceptually intriguing as Memento, and while the acting is a little stilted at times and the writing is more than adequately covered by bizarreness of the plot, the film is able to sneak a surprising amount of character development in among the twists and is thoroughly enjoyable to loose yourself in. It was even better the second time after a bottle of wine.
Grade: A-/A+++

Charade: I have a bias against old movies, and I’m not sure why it is. If a movie is filmed before 1985, I always end up looking at a movie jacket and thinking it’s going to blow. Well, after polishing off this smart action/comedy circa 1963, I had not only changed my tune about older movies but also found myself completely enamored with Audrey Hepburn. A charming and classy woman from another time and another place, she is something we could use much more of in contemporary cinema. Decently acted and cleverly delivered, Charade was good clean fun for the whole family. Random casting note: This was apparently the other movie Walter Matthau did before Grumpy Old Men.
Grade: A-

The Boondock Saints: This film is exceptionally violent, frequently obscene and almost entirely dark, and yet somehow manages to preserve an unidentifiable quality which would resemble hope if it wasn’t so grizzled. This film also manages to capture filial piety in a way that transcends acting, writing or directing, and I have always been impressed by that. My favourite scenes from this movie are the old Irish barkeep screaming, “F**K!!!!! ASS!!!!!!!!” and blinking apoplectically as a group of Nuns hurry past in a hospital hallway and the brothers conversing in five different languages with Agent Smecker. It’s not a flick for everyone, but if you’re in the mood for some film noire killing and maiming, this one’s for you. Best taken with a Guinness or five.
Grade: B

Mr. and Mrs. Smith: Yeah, I saw it. I could have spent that 97 minutes counting the hairs on my forearm and been about the same off intellectually and emotionally. It wasn’t even bad enough to be entertaining. The end.
Grade: C-/D+

The Chorus: This charming French film about a transformation in a delinquent school for boys has found a warm spot in with me. Part of it is likely my inexplicable affection for the French, but this film did a fine job of portraying the power of decency and humility when speaking into even the most hardened of environments. Due to the film being entirely in French, this isn’t the flick for you if you don’t like subtitles and/or don’t speak French, but it’s well worth trying to get over either obstacle to enjoy this warm and affirming tale about the importance of being human in inhumane circumstances.
Grade: A-

Weird Science: What can you really say about this Saturday afternoon classic? It's basically a distillation of male juvenile primary processing, right down to the fecal troll Bill Pullman gets turned into, and it had been years upon long years since I'd seen it. Between the mutant biker gang, stealing the popular girls from Robert Downey Jr. and jaunting nonchalantly around town in Ferraris, it's a fun house of every Jr. High guy all dressed up in undeniably 80's threads. Not really intelligent, not really subtle in any way shape or form, but campy and random.
Grade: B-

Knocked Up: I actually enjoyed this flick a lot more than I thought I would when it came in the mail. I had heard rave reviews from several different sources over the months since its release, but remained skeptical. Partly because of my low expectations, however, and partly because most of the cast were strongly reminiscent of my friends in high school, I ended up appreciating the crassness and awkwardness captured so authentically in this film of trying to negotiate life between people who are so unalike. An enjoyable film as long as you don’t take anything too seriously.
Grade: B

Der Untergang

I should have realized when I started reviewing movies that I would never keep up with my copious consumption. I’m several films behind by now, well over a month since my last movie post, and after some soul searching I’ve come to terms with the reality of the situation. From now on, I’ll stick to only reviewing the standouts and smatter some of the more pedestrian films in and amongst real meat and potatoes. If, by some unfortunate accident, I happen to pigeonhole your favourite film into the ‘pedestrian’ category, I apologize in advance and will happily reprint a full retraction upon request. That being said . . .

Since my last post, I’ve had the pleasure of watching five films. At least four of them were completely different. They are, in order:

1. Love Actually (a James Orr fav)
2. Downfall
3. Confetti
4. Jesus Camp
5. Borat

I only really want to talk about Downfall, and I’ll leave the rest to scores and highlights.

The Germans, if you didn’t already know, are a singular people. Athletic, intelligent, cultured and industrious, it’s little wonder they very nearly brought the world to its knees twice within a span of 50 years. The film Downfall, an unflinching examination of Hitler’s final days as seen through the eyes of his personal secretary Traudl Junge, manages to capture the zeitgeist of the Nazi regime in its unwavering discipline, staunch principles, debauchery, decadence and myopia. Not once are the writers tempted to resort to painting their characters as caricatures, but instead force the viewer to witness the humanity inexplicably coupled with the monstrosity of the Nazi regime as Joseph Goebbles sings with his children and Hitler shares tender moments with his staff and friends.

The film is book-ended by an interview with Ms. Junge, and as the film closes she recounts a momment late in her life of passing by a monument to Jews killed at a labour camp and suddenly feeling the conviction of 6 million souls. " . . . But I hadn't made the connection with my past," says Junge. "I assured myself with the thought of not being personally guilty. And that I didn't know anything about the enormous scale of it. But one day I walked by a memorial plate of Sophie Scholl in the Franz-Joseph-Strasse. I saw that she was about my age and she was executed in the same year I came to Hitler. And at that moment I actually realised that a young age isn't an excuse. And that it might have been possible to get to know things."

While most WWII films claim to educate us about the atrocities so that we never allow anyone to commit them again, this film instead strives to warn the viewer that the person we must strive to censure is not a faceless enemy but in fact ourselves. It is our acquiescence, our own willingness to complacently follow and unquestioningly serve that must be constantly examined. In a nation where a genocide which still leaves its ghastly scar on a proud people is politely swept under the rug of casinos and firework stands every day, this film about personal and national responsibility speaks loudly and honestly about what can easily happen on any scale anywhere when we start to let our humanity come in second to expediency and convenience.
Grade: A+

Scores and Highlights:

Love Actually: A fun little romantic jaunt with the who’s who of British thespians. Strait down the pipe, with the drunken Bill Nighy character stealing the show for me.
Grade: B

Confetti: Another who’s who of British comedy, go figure. A clever film about marriage and weddings with a few genuinely funny moments, this film includes even more nudity than the previous, but none of it sexual. Actually very well done and enjoyable, I’d recommend it to anyone not offended by nudists.
Grade: B+

Jesus Camp: I was expecting a much more hard-hitting view of frighteningly conservative Christians, but the film really only picked on one charismatic church group from Missouri. Copious film editing and questionable sequencing aside, it was a fascinating look at the isolationist tendencies and blind espousing of rhetoric in certain conservative circles. Also featured in the film: Creepy behind the scenes clips of Ted Haggard preaching against homosexuality at his megachurch. Good times.
Grade: C+

Borat: Yeah . . . see it if you want to.
Grade: C

Double Trouble

I’ve got a few films stacked up on me, so I’m pulling out the Drive-In classic double feature . . . and as far as double features go, this one’s a doosey. Both have stanch rebels against authority, wily women, shifting alliances and onerous villains. And now on to our feature presentation: Casablanca, followed by Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest!

Casablanca was everything I thought it might be, plus some unexpected bonuses. I suppose this betrays a bit more of me than I’d like, but I’m always pleasantly surprised when I find old movies are crisp and poignant. Set in 1940’s Morocco, Casablanca follows suave cantina owner Rick as he attempts to make an honest living in a crooked world. Confronted with ghosts of his past and specters of the present, the film lets is characters struggle, showing their humanity and their desperate attempts not to loose it in what is ultimately constituted as a rich tapestry of history and character. Featuring lines like ‘Here’s lookin’ at you, kid’ ‘Play it again, Sam’ and ‘Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship’ which have become strayed towards cliché in American cinema, Casablanca is much more than a collection of classic movie quotes. If you like movies at all, give Casablanca 102 minutes of your life and enjoy a film made when Hollywood still wore the glow of youth.

Grade: A

Pirates of the Caribbean was everything you hope a sequel won’t be. Sequels are notoriously difficult to do well, with successful ones comprising a short list: The Empire Strikes Back, Temple of Doom, Weekend at Bernie’s 2. Maybe a few others. Presenting new material, continuing to grow characters and referencing the previous film tastefully are all very difficult tasks, and Pirates II seems to have had moderate to severe trouble with them all. The film have the flavour of a shameless remora, banking on the success of its predecessor and hoping to just enjoy the ride while doing as little work as possible, a poorly conceived follow up to a tight and witty first installment. Jokes were recycled ad nauseam, characters stagnated and plot lines were pressed thinner than Kiera Knightly’s waifish form. What could have been an interesting film with plot devices like confronting the immortal Davy Jones and reconciling Will to his father Bill, the film bogged down for me in some places and flew by at others, leaving me feeling confused and generally uninterested in the plot or characters. The special effects were impressive at times, and new characters such as Jones and the Fortune Teller showed glimpses of original thought and shine which garnered the first film its accolades, but as a whole it is a disappointing installment to an enjoyable franchise. I was left wishing the whole affair had ended with the first film in 2003.

Grade: C

Diggin' Dogtown

My Junior High really only had two factions growing up. There were some ethnic minorities along the fringes that clashed from time to time, but in my North Clovis school the battle for campus hegemony was between the Skaters and Jocks. I wasn’t really part of either camp, weighing 115lbs soaking wet, sporting glasses, and yet not owning a single pair of Vans or cords. As chance would have it, however, I became friends with one of the Skater Barons, Anthony, and we remained friends throughout high school. There was a brief halcyon period between the two factions in the spring of ‘97 when a political marriage was hammered out between Skater Queen Amanda and Ronnie the Jock, but peace was brittle and the tenuous truce followed the unfortunate fate of its initiating liaison. The jocks were just too mainstream. Too clean-cut, too button-down to mix with the skaters. Both smoked pot, drank heavily, drove recklessly and despised authority but found themselves in the ironic position of the Nazis and Communists during the 1940’s; the two ideologically opposed factions found themselves pursuing similar goals through similar means with differing aesthetics and despised each other for it.

Dogtown and Z-Boys was my Silmarillion of skating culture. Providing a richly textured examination of skate boarding’s nativity from the economically depressed 1970’s Venice surf scene into a fully developed and independent sport as well as character sketching skate legends Tony Alva and Jay Adams, all the drama I saw unfold in my adolescent years suddenly made so much more sense when informed by this film. Set to a mishmash of 70’s rock, raw footage of long-haired bedraggled street hooligans bumming around on homemade decks and contemporary contemplations on the birth of the other true American art form, Dogtown and Z-Boys traces the roots of the Zephyr Skate Team from rag-tag surf rats to international icons. Exploring the urban-guerrilla mindset of pool riding, the fiercely territorial mindset of the sport’s first superstars and reckless pursuit of perfecting a craft, Stacey Petralta’s work behind camera draws the honesty and authenticity only a lifelong friend could from his subject. Whether you wore battered cut-offs cords or Tommy Hilfiger plaid button-downs in high school, Dogtown and Z-Boys is worth a watch to gain an appreciation for what has emerged to be a significant subset of youth culture today. A labour of love which easily held my attention through an enjoyable 90 min.

Grade: B+

Talladega Naps

Disclaimer: I don’t much care for Will Ferrell.

I didn’t have many expectations coming into Talladega Nights, mostly because of the disclaimer above. I’ve seen Anchor Man, Old School, Zoolander the BOSNL disks and found very little that wasn’t passé by 5^th grade in Ferrell’s arsenal. If this makes me sound like I have a stick up my ass and I don’t really know how to have a good time then so be it. I know a few people who thoroughly enjoy Ferrell’s antics, I even think some of them are reasonably intelligent people, I just don’t happen to be one of them. Besides a good laugh at Eleanor Roosevelt’s spurious quote to open the film and a few of the PSA’s, I had to remind myself that this was a comedy consistenty throughout the movie. The plot was as fresh as a driver’s jock after lap 700 and the vast majority of the jokes laboured harder than a wound-out big block V-8 trying to pass to the outside. Sacha Baron Cohen’s Jean Girard managed to finagle a smile from time to time solely on the tenacity of his ridiculous French accent and TR reminded me of my second cousin from Greensboro, but in general I found very little to salvage from this wreck of a movie. If you are a die-hard Ferrellite you’ll probably love the flick, but I found myself glad to start cleaning my apartment ¾ through it. The Ballad of Ricky Bobby was more a dirge for me.

Grade: C

I Flick, You Flick

I've been toying with the idea of introducing a regular feature on The Texafornian for a while now. Now I know that some of yall might be thinking, 'Shawn Simas has been at the movie reviewing game much longer than you have, Micah. Who do you think you are muscling in on his racket?!' Well, my fine fellow critics, there will undoubtedly be some overlap in our catalogue, but it is my intention to review the movies sent my way by the benevolent Netflix, so this is your chance to get reviews on films that either haven't been in the theatre for 20 years or never made it to a theatre in the area. Our first feature, however, is a recent blockbuster staring The Cowboy Christian Bale and everyone's favourite to play Smurfette should the live action Smurf movie ever get the green light, Katie Holmes. Also present: Lliam Nielson (apparently unable to turn down any cameo appearances his agent throws his way), Michael Caine (keeping the investment portfolio alive w/ bit parts) and Cillian Murphy (of zombie movie fame).

Batman Begins was actually an enjoyable movie and arguably the most well crafted of the series. It covers an incredible amount of ground, zipping through Wayne's adolescence, nascest development and on through to his institution as Gotham's cowled crime fighter all in a reasonably coherent package. The characters have just enough depth to hold the viewers interest and the plot is strung together just enough that you don't feel like you're being completely left in the belfry. This is a military jet of a movie: It moves at an incredible rate of speed, is rigidly but not superfluously bolted together and has a mission to accomplish. A thoroughly enjoyable addition to the saga. B+.

Other recent flicks:

The Producers (c. 1968): B, enjoyable and lighthearted with Gene Wilder is in his prime and Mel Brooks as a singing Hitler. What else do you want?

Thank You For Smoking: A, great movie about the art of discourse. Immaculate and savoury film.

Little Miss Sunshine: B, enjoyable movie with a few entertaining shifts. The Vow of Silence and Young Tail monologue alone pull this movie up from a likely more accurate B-.

Babel: B-, lost out on hype factor. An ok movie about global cooincidences and people's lives that go awry, but I just coudln't get myself into it. Go figure.