I swear I don’t know how this happens: I receive a movie from Netflix, and I have no idea why I ordered it. Sometimes I think the little chipmunks that keep the wheels of Netflix rolling get a bit bored and randomly hurl those little red envelopes into somebody else’s queue. I can hear ‘em now, “You want ““Annie Hall?”” screw you, you’re gettin’ “”The Exorcist!”” That or I’m just losing it, which is the most logical explanation (Oh god, now I sound like Spock).
Anyway, I opened one of my red envelopes the other day and gazed in wonderment at what I saw: “Blast from the Past.” What? After damn near hurling the thing across the room like a miniature Frisbee, I read the synopsis; it sounded pretty entertaining and boasted an impressive cast: Christopher Walken, Sissy Spacek, Brendan Fraser, and the deal closer, Alicia Silverstone.
If you haven’t seen “Blast from the Past,” it’s a quirky comedy set during the Cold War, specifically The Cuban Missile Crisis, and the Walken character (Calvin) is a “mad” scientist who’s anticipated a total nuclear (or nuuklar, as George W. would enunciate it) holocaust and has built a bomb shelter under their house. Except this is not your father’s bomb shelter; it’s literally a replica of their house, and is stuffed to the gills with supplies.
In short, after Calvin forces pregnant wife, Spacek (Helen) into the shelter, his “holocaust” happens in the form of an airplane that crashes on top of his house. That’s enough for Calvin, as he activates the locks, and the two are shelter-bound for the next thirty-five years (that’s when the locks are programmed to disengage). A few months after the couple enters the shelter, Helen gives birth to Adam (Brendon Frasier).
Calvin and Helen raise Adam as if time has stood still and by Adam’s 34th birthday, the locks unhinge, and Adam eventually makes his way to modern society (the ultimate fish out of water). One of Adam’s desires is, of course, to get married and in a very well-done meet cute, Adam runs into Eve (Alicia Silverstone), and, as one would expect, they eventually fall in love.
As I was watching “Blast,” I sat there and realized how much I miss Alicia’s presence from the movies. For starters, she’s one of the most beautiful women on the planet. Heck, while only six-years-old, her father took some pictures of her, and the next thing ya know, she’s doing commercials. And she isn’t the product of LA; she was born in San Francisco.
After some minor TV appearances, she made a splash in the 1993 movie “The Crush.” Although reviews for the flick were tepid, Silverstone was a standout, and won “Best Villain” and “Breakthrough Performance” at the 1994 MTV Movie Awards; her career was about to take off. She caught the collective eyes of rockers Aerosmith and quickly became a star in a slew of incredibly popular MTV videos (back when MTV actually had an iota on influence in the MUSIC business) that pretty much put her on the radar of the Hollywood elite, including one Amy Heckerling. Amy was writing a little movie at the time titled “Clueless,” and Silverstone was perfect for the role of the popular, materialistic, daddy’s girl (Cher), who is hell-bent on transforming Tai (the brilliant, late Brittany Murphy) into a popular chick, among other things.
“Clueless” is, well, I don’t have to tell you what the movie is, except that it rocketed Alicia to big time stardom, and she was hailed as the spokeswoman for an emerging young generation. It nabbed her the role of Batgirl in the Batman franchise of the day, and the icing on the cake; she signed a deal with Columbia Tristar worth $10 million for her own production company, First Kiss Productions. In 1997, her first release under First Kiss was “Excess Baggage,” which critics didn’t warm up to. I read half of the screenplay and saw the movie; the critics got it right on this one.
It’s not like Alicia’s been stuck in a bomb shelter for the last 10 years; she’s done movies and TV, such as a spot on “Children’s Hospital” and “The Art of Getting By,” and she’s completed filming for “Vamps,” which teams her up with Amy Heckerling once more. She’s also completed “Butter” and “Ass Backwards” is in post-production.
So, all of us Alicia fans can rest assured, she’ll be hitting the big screen soon with what looks to be some pretty solid material.
What do ya think, “Clueless II?” Nah, some classics need to be left alone; I think Alicia would agree with me on this one.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Bridesmaids: A bit befuddling
“Bridesmaids” is somewhat of a dichotomy in my humble opinion. The movie is co-written and stars everybody’s new comedic genius, Kristen Wiig. Wiig’s credited writing partner is Annie Mumolo, who has a cameo appearance as Wiig’s fellow airplane passenger (they both desperately need to find a 12-step program for aviatophobia – fear of flying). The film is directed by TV veteran Paul Feig of “Freaks and Geeks” and “Arrested Development” fame.
The plot line is benignly straight forward: Lillian (Maya Rudolph) is getting married and asks her childhood best friend, Annie (Wiig) to be her maid of honor.
As we meet Annie in the setup, we realize her bakery business has folded due to the struggling economy (as the movie progresses, one wonders if there were other reasons); she’s desperately lacking in the self-esteem department, as she’s basically a sex doll for a guy who literally kicks her out of bed after a tryst; she’s on the brink of financial disaster; and shares a house with two oddball British roommates that have no respect for her or her privacy.
Even though Annie’s life is literally falling apart, she agrees to be Lillian’s maid of honor. To the chagrin of Annie, it seems Lillian has found a new “best friend” in bridesmaid Helen (Rode Byrne), who has married into a wealthy family, and her tastes are far more upscale than Annie’s meager budget can handle. The rest of the movie revolves around Annie screwing up at every turn and after a plane ride that goes seriously awry, Annie’s booted as maid of honor, and Helen gladly steps in.
“Bridesmaids” has some very funny scenes. The episode on the airplane is definitely a highlight as Annie’s fear of flying gets the best of her. Wiig’s slapstick comedic chops are spot-on. There’s a scene where Annie attempts to snag the attention of a police officer (who, at this point, wants nothing to do with her) by attempting some tactics that would land any of us in the pokey. The relationship between Annie and her mother (the late Jill Clayburgh) is done very well, and Annie has quite an amusing scene with a rather large cookie (ironic, given she was once a baker).
One of the main issues with the movie is, well, Annie’s character. Sure, she’s funny, kind of. In my estimation, Wiig’s funniest scene is on the airplane, but she has to get bombed to really show her comedic potential? Quite honestly, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen this before, when Wiig isn’t wasted on an airplane, she’s just there, and her co-stars actually pick off the comedic elements like apples from a tree. One bridesmaid in particular, Megan (Melissa McCarthy), steals each and every scene she’s in, leaving everybody else in the dust. Think Peter Griffin “Family Guy” with boobs.
Judd Apatow produced, and in Megan he let his signature foul mouthed, obnoxious, character lose with her cursing and just plain off the wall mannerisms. In my estimation, Megan absolutely stood out as the character I wanted to follow, and not Annie. As for the rest of the bridesmaids, they were shallow; almost cliché characters that really had no redeeming value whatsoever.
Also, Annie is so self-absorbed in her own pity that she literally almost blows it with a male character that’s a great guy and obviously interested in her, and she blows him off like lint from a blouse. She’s nothing but a bitch to customers at her job, which her mother set her up with. Three quarters into the movie, I was thinking that this woman is totally and completely responsible for her own problems, and that, to me, is not what I want to see in character development.
This movie has been bantered about as “The Hangover” for women. Not even close. “The Hangover” is a nonlinear plot line, and its tempo chugged along like a locomotive. Every scene in that movie has multiple gags going on and is humorous on some level. “Bridesmaids” is linear as can be (not a bad thing), and is only comparable to “The Hangover” in that Apatow shoved in some pretty gross out material with chicks swearing like drunken sailors. Other than that, it’s basically a chick flick with episodic scene structure: Funny scene, mildly funny scene, serious scene, etc.
Also, I was amazed at how long some the scenes lasted. Sure, the airplane scene was funny, and perhaps hilarious at points, but it’s like Apatow (if you saw “Funny People” you know what I’m talking about here) and Feig saw the comedic potential and ran a marathon with it. The scene was so long and drawn out, it kind of lost its luster. Many of the scenes in this movie have a similar problem with length and impact, which contributed to its bloated running time of over 2 hours.
Listen, I’m going to advise readers to go see “Bridesmaids.” It’s got enough chops to make it a somewhat enjoyable viewing experience, but I’m not buying the hype of “this is the best comedy that will come out all year.” Ladies and gentlemen “The Hangover Part 2” could possibly be the highest grossing comedy of all time, and if it’s not funnier than “Bridesmaids,” I’ll shut up, sit down, and let Annie shove a piece of wedding cake in my face.
The plot line is benignly straight forward: Lillian (Maya Rudolph) is getting married and asks her childhood best friend, Annie (Wiig) to be her maid of honor.
As we meet Annie in the setup, we realize her bakery business has folded due to the struggling economy (as the movie progresses, one wonders if there were other reasons); she’s desperately lacking in the self-esteem department, as she’s basically a sex doll for a guy who literally kicks her out of bed after a tryst; she’s on the brink of financial disaster; and shares a house with two oddball British roommates that have no respect for her or her privacy.
Even though Annie’s life is literally falling apart, she agrees to be Lillian’s maid of honor. To the chagrin of Annie, it seems Lillian has found a new “best friend” in bridesmaid Helen (Rode Byrne), who has married into a wealthy family, and her tastes are far more upscale than Annie’s meager budget can handle. The rest of the movie revolves around Annie screwing up at every turn and after a plane ride that goes seriously awry, Annie’s booted as maid of honor, and Helen gladly steps in.
“Bridesmaids” has some very funny scenes. The episode on the airplane is definitely a highlight as Annie’s fear of flying gets the best of her. Wiig’s slapstick comedic chops are spot-on. There’s a scene where Annie attempts to snag the attention of a police officer (who, at this point, wants nothing to do with her) by attempting some tactics that would land any of us in the pokey. The relationship between Annie and her mother (the late Jill Clayburgh) is done very well, and Annie has quite an amusing scene with a rather large cookie (ironic, given she was once a baker).
One of the main issues with the movie is, well, Annie’s character. Sure, she’s funny, kind of. In my estimation, Wiig’s funniest scene is on the airplane, but she has to get bombed to really show her comedic potential? Quite honestly, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen this before, when Wiig isn’t wasted on an airplane, she’s just there, and her co-stars actually pick off the comedic elements like apples from a tree. One bridesmaid in particular, Megan (Melissa McCarthy), steals each and every scene she’s in, leaving everybody else in the dust. Think Peter Griffin “Family Guy” with boobs.
Judd Apatow produced, and in Megan he let his signature foul mouthed, obnoxious, character lose with her cursing and just plain off the wall mannerisms. In my estimation, Megan absolutely stood out as the character I wanted to follow, and not Annie. As for the rest of the bridesmaids, they were shallow; almost cliché characters that really had no redeeming value whatsoever.
Also, Annie is so self-absorbed in her own pity that she literally almost blows it with a male character that’s a great guy and obviously interested in her, and she blows him off like lint from a blouse. She’s nothing but a bitch to customers at her job, which her mother set her up with. Three quarters into the movie, I was thinking that this woman is totally and completely responsible for her own problems, and that, to me, is not what I want to see in character development.
This movie has been bantered about as “The Hangover” for women. Not even close. “The Hangover” is a nonlinear plot line, and its tempo chugged along like a locomotive. Every scene in that movie has multiple gags going on and is humorous on some level. “Bridesmaids” is linear as can be (not a bad thing), and is only comparable to “The Hangover” in that Apatow shoved in some pretty gross out material with chicks swearing like drunken sailors. Other than that, it’s basically a chick flick with episodic scene structure: Funny scene, mildly funny scene, serious scene, etc.
Also, I was amazed at how long some the scenes lasted. Sure, the airplane scene was funny, and perhaps hilarious at points, but it’s like Apatow (if you saw “Funny People” you know what I’m talking about here) and Feig saw the comedic potential and ran a marathon with it. The scene was so long and drawn out, it kind of lost its luster. Many of the scenes in this movie have a similar problem with length and impact, which contributed to its bloated running time of over 2 hours.
Listen, I’m going to advise readers to go see “Bridesmaids.” It’s got enough chops to make it a somewhat enjoyable viewing experience, but I’m not buying the hype of “this is the best comedy that will come out all year.” Ladies and gentlemen “The Hangover Part 2” could possibly be the highest grossing comedy of all time, and if it’s not funnier than “Bridesmaids,” I’ll shut up, sit down, and let Annie shove a piece of wedding cake in my face.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Get Low: Mildly enticing, extremely slow.
Movies are like personalities, some seem derivative of others, but in the long run, each has its own quirks, peculiarities, and oddities. But, we all know that no two are exactly alike (and that’s a good thing. I can’t imagine unleashing another “me” on society. God help us all).
“Get Low” released in 2009, was the directorial debut of longtime cinematographer Aaron Schneider, who was cinematographer on TV movies such as “Miss Miami” and “Drift.” If you’ve actually heard of these movies, contact your local psychotherapist, because you officially have no life. Anyway, “Get Low” is a folksy story about an old hermit, Felix Bush (Robert Duvall), who resides, in utter isolation, on 300 tree-filled acres in Tennessee during the 1930’s. Evidently the movie is based on a true story. After an obvious flashback that is the opening image, we meet the curmudgeon. (Think Shrek in the flesh). One afternoon, a brave soul arrives at Felix’s shack and notifies him that an old acquaintance of Felix’s has passed. This is the incident that gets the story dawdling along.
Even though Felix would rather slice off his left foot than show an iota of emotion, this news penetrates the gruff exterior of the man, and one can tell this is the final straw that must push Felix to face his own mortality. So, Felix rolls into town (evidently something he hasn’t done is quite a while) and pays a visit to the town’s funeral parlor and owner, Frank Quinn (Bill Murray). It seems Felix desires his funeral while he’s still alive, so he can hear all the “stories” (gossip) that have been told about him for the last forty years. This is actually a subplot that is stated in a brilliant line by the Pastor (Gerald McRaney) to Felix: “Gossip is the Devil’s radio.”
Quinn is more than happy to oblige Felix as business is slow, “What do ya do when people don’t die,” Quinn moans, and Felix plops down a wad of cash we’d all be envious of. (How he made it, we never learn). When in town, Felix runs into an old “girlfriend,” Mattie Darrow (Sissy Spacek). The rest of the movie revolves around these characters, plus Quinn’s new salesman, Carl (Scott Cooper) and then the eventual buildup to the climactic “funeral”.
The acting in this movie is superb by all, as should be expected given the cast. The screenplay is very sparse. There’s something to be said about brevity and the power of words, and writers Chris Provenzano and C. Gabby Mitchell penned excellent dialogue and some very powerful, conflict-ridden scenes. Bill Murray is basically playing himself and is the lowbrow comic relief a story like this desperately deserves. The main theme is basically a question we all ask ourselves at some point in time: “what is my legacy?” As to not give away any spoilers, the script has some unusual plot twists, which manage to keep the viewer engaged throughout.
The problem with the script (the movie’s personality) is the tone. It’s like a guy who’s sitting courtside at game seven of the NBA Finals with the game tied and only 2 seconds left, and he’s falling asleep. Sure, not every movie needs car chases, bombs exploding or human limbs flying every which way, but some excitement might enhance the experience. I could feel the ever so slight build up to the climactic “funeral” but man, it was like, “anybody got some amphetamines? I could really use some right about now!” And if Bill Murray wasn’t in this movie with his natural charm and wit, the flick would have put an insomniac out for days.
Let me just say this: this movie is for grownups or total movie geeks that love to love a movie that they know most of the general movie going population is going to slam. Of course it rated in the 80’s on RottenTomatoes; I knew the critics would slobber all over it.
My main problem with the movie is that I really didn’t care for Felix. I didn’t feel he was worthy of my empathy, and that, my friends, is a huge no! no! Sure, he has his elixir moment at the end, as he finally releases his secret that’s kept him in isolation for all those years, but the nature of what he did made me feel even more distain for the character, not forgiveness.
Also, I’m huge on the way screenwriters structure the ending of their story. A powerful, emotion-filled ending can literally elevate a movie from OK status to extremely well-done. If the writer’s of “Get Low” had a really killer ending, they obviously left it in one of the other drafts of the script, because it sure as hell didn’t make it into the shooting script.
“Get Low” is a story teller’s movie for an audience that can hang in there with, for the most part, some pretty boring characters following a very slow-moving plot line. I guess in my final diagnosis, “Get Low” is able to function in society but has some serious personality disorders. Next patient!
“Get Low” released in 2009, was the directorial debut of longtime cinematographer Aaron Schneider, who was cinematographer on TV movies such as “Miss Miami” and “Drift.” If you’ve actually heard of these movies, contact your local psychotherapist, because you officially have no life. Anyway, “Get Low” is a folksy story about an old hermit, Felix Bush (Robert Duvall), who resides, in utter isolation, on 300 tree-filled acres in Tennessee during the 1930’s. Evidently the movie is based on a true story. After an obvious flashback that is the opening image, we meet the curmudgeon. (Think Shrek in the flesh). One afternoon, a brave soul arrives at Felix’s shack and notifies him that an old acquaintance of Felix’s has passed. This is the incident that gets the story dawdling along.
Even though Felix would rather slice off his left foot than show an iota of emotion, this news penetrates the gruff exterior of the man, and one can tell this is the final straw that must push Felix to face his own mortality. So, Felix rolls into town (evidently something he hasn’t done is quite a while) and pays a visit to the town’s funeral parlor and owner, Frank Quinn (Bill Murray). It seems Felix desires his funeral while he’s still alive, so he can hear all the “stories” (gossip) that have been told about him for the last forty years. This is actually a subplot that is stated in a brilliant line by the Pastor (Gerald McRaney) to Felix: “Gossip is the Devil’s radio.”
Quinn is more than happy to oblige Felix as business is slow, “What do ya do when people don’t die,” Quinn moans, and Felix plops down a wad of cash we’d all be envious of. (How he made it, we never learn). When in town, Felix runs into an old “girlfriend,” Mattie Darrow (Sissy Spacek). The rest of the movie revolves around these characters, plus Quinn’s new salesman, Carl (Scott Cooper) and then the eventual buildup to the climactic “funeral”.
The acting in this movie is superb by all, as should be expected given the cast. The screenplay is very sparse. There’s something to be said about brevity and the power of words, and writers Chris Provenzano and C. Gabby Mitchell penned excellent dialogue and some very powerful, conflict-ridden scenes. Bill Murray is basically playing himself and is the lowbrow comic relief a story like this desperately deserves. The main theme is basically a question we all ask ourselves at some point in time: “what is my legacy?” As to not give away any spoilers, the script has some unusual plot twists, which manage to keep the viewer engaged throughout.
The problem with the script (the movie’s personality) is the tone. It’s like a guy who’s sitting courtside at game seven of the NBA Finals with the game tied and only 2 seconds left, and he’s falling asleep. Sure, not every movie needs car chases, bombs exploding or human limbs flying every which way, but some excitement might enhance the experience. I could feel the ever so slight build up to the climactic “funeral” but man, it was like, “anybody got some amphetamines? I could really use some right about now!” And if Bill Murray wasn’t in this movie with his natural charm and wit, the flick would have put an insomniac out for days.
Let me just say this: this movie is for grownups or total movie geeks that love to love a movie that they know most of the general movie going population is going to slam. Of course it rated in the 80’s on RottenTomatoes; I knew the critics would slobber all over it.
My main problem with the movie is that I really didn’t care for Felix. I didn’t feel he was worthy of my empathy, and that, my friends, is a huge no! no! Sure, he has his elixir moment at the end, as he finally releases his secret that’s kept him in isolation for all those years, but the nature of what he did made me feel even more distain for the character, not forgiveness.
Also, I’m huge on the way screenwriters structure the ending of their story. A powerful, emotion-filled ending can literally elevate a movie from OK status to extremely well-done. If the writer’s of “Get Low” had a really killer ending, they obviously left it in one of the other drafts of the script, because it sure as hell didn’t make it into the shooting script.
“Get Low” is a story teller’s movie for an audience that can hang in there with, for the most part, some pretty boring characters following a very slow-moving plot line. I guess in my final diagnosis, “Get Low” is able to function in society but has some serious personality disorders. Next patient!
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Cancel your reservation for Dinner for Schmucks
I never had the pleasure of viewing the original French movie “Le Diner De Cons.” Maybe I’ll rent it on Netflix, because I’ve read that the source material is far superior to 2010’s “Dinner for Schmucks,” starring Paul Rudd, and the ever so lovable Steve Carell (and I use that adjective describing Carell with sarcasm dripping from my nostrils).
I’m pretty sure you’re aware of the premise of the movie. If you aren’t, the name pretty much sums it up: A bunch of rich snobs have a monthly dinner, and each “snob” invites a complete idiot to the festivities. The most idiotic “loser” wins a trophy and the utter disrespect of said rich snobs.
Tim (Rudd) is a yuppie, up-and-comer in an investment company and is eventually invited to the dinner by his boss. Granted, Tim’s a bit conflicted as to the intent of the dinner, but after he literally runs into Barry (Carell), who has a penchant for creating “figurines” from dead rats that have gone through the taxidermy process; Tim’s found his “schmuck.”
This movie is billed as a comedy; I’ve attempted to write comedy. It’s difficult, EXTREMELY DIFFICULT! That being said, when I watch a comedy, I had better be laughing within the first 5 minutes, or I’m out, gone, hasta la vista, baby. With “Dinner,” I laughed maybe twice during this painfully long excuse of a movie, and that was probably forty-five minutes into this disaster.
Admittedly, there is one funny scene when Carell, Rudd, Rudd’s crazy, stocking wacko “girlfriend”, and a Swedish couple, whom Rudd’s attempting to woo into investing one hundred million dollars with the firm Rudd works for, all end up at lunch together. This was amusing, but one had to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro to get there.
The dialogue is borderline moronic (and I know moronic dialogue, because I write it all the time); it’s paint by the numbers Hollywood schlep movie making; the characters are woefully ill-defined; and with Jamaine Clement’s character (Kieran), they attempt to rip-off Russell Brand’s character, Aldous Snow from a classically funny movie, “Forgetting Sarah Marshall.”
Zach Galifianakis plays Carell’s boss at the IRS, where these two boobs work. The interplay between them (especially at the dinner) is humorous, and if it wasn’t for Zach, the film would literally be unwatchable. The Carell character is, shall I say, lovably annoying, and Rudd seems to be calling in his role for some sunny beach in Australia while downing his second Fosters.
When a movie is shot, the director, in this case Jay Roach (Austin Powers trio, Meet the Parents) and whoever else, watch what is called “the dailies,” which is the footage shot during that day. I sit in wonderment and ponder how these guys could think this is acceptable comedic material. Roach’s pedigree is rather impressive. I guess dressing Carell up in some moronic outfit and letting him act like a buffoon was funny on set, but guess what guys, it didn’t translate to the big screen whatsoever.
Again, I say to myself, they’re the ones making movies, and I’m the one hacking out a blog that nobody reads. Game, set, match to them.
Anyway, as you can guess, I do not recommending wasting your time renting this dreg of a flick. It could have been very funny, but the filmmakers blew it in my opinion. And Carell should stop making movies. Steve, “The 40 Year Old Virgin,” was made back in the good old days of 2005, when the world wasn’t on the brink of, well, disaster. I think Shakespeare in the park is calling your name.
I give this movie 2 beers out of a six pack. Why? Because this crap was filmed for 65 million and it actually made money at the B.O. But, I don’t think they add in marketing costs to the stated budget, so this film probably cost somebody a job. Boohoo.
I’m pretty sure you’re aware of the premise of the movie. If you aren’t, the name pretty much sums it up: A bunch of rich snobs have a monthly dinner, and each “snob” invites a complete idiot to the festivities. The most idiotic “loser” wins a trophy and the utter disrespect of said rich snobs.
Tim (Rudd) is a yuppie, up-and-comer in an investment company and is eventually invited to the dinner by his boss. Granted, Tim’s a bit conflicted as to the intent of the dinner, but after he literally runs into Barry (Carell), who has a penchant for creating “figurines” from dead rats that have gone through the taxidermy process; Tim’s found his “schmuck.”
This movie is billed as a comedy; I’ve attempted to write comedy. It’s difficult, EXTREMELY DIFFICULT! That being said, when I watch a comedy, I had better be laughing within the first 5 minutes, or I’m out, gone, hasta la vista, baby. With “Dinner,” I laughed maybe twice during this painfully long excuse of a movie, and that was probably forty-five minutes into this disaster.
Admittedly, there is one funny scene when Carell, Rudd, Rudd’s crazy, stocking wacko “girlfriend”, and a Swedish couple, whom Rudd’s attempting to woo into investing one hundred million dollars with the firm Rudd works for, all end up at lunch together. This was amusing, but one had to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro to get there.
The dialogue is borderline moronic (and I know moronic dialogue, because I write it all the time); it’s paint by the numbers Hollywood schlep movie making; the characters are woefully ill-defined; and with Jamaine Clement’s character (Kieran), they attempt to rip-off Russell Brand’s character, Aldous Snow from a classically funny movie, “Forgetting Sarah Marshall.”
Zach Galifianakis plays Carell’s boss at the IRS, where these two boobs work. The interplay between them (especially at the dinner) is humorous, and if it wasn’t for Zach, the film would literally be unwatchable. The Carell character is, shall I say, lovably annoying, and Rudd seems to be calling in his role for some sunny beach in Australia while downing his second Fosters.
When a movie is shot, the director, in this case Jay Roach (Austin Powers trio, Meet the Parents) and whoever else, watch what is called “the dailies,” which is the footage shot during that day. I sit in wonderment and ponder how these guys could think this is acceptable comedic material. Roach’s pedigree is rather impressive. I guess dressing Carell up in some moronic outfit and letting him act like a buffoon was funny on set, but guess what guys, it didn’t translate to the big screen whatsoever.
Again, I say to myself, they’re the ones making movies, and I’m the one hacking out a blog that nobody reads. Game, set, match to them.
Anyway, as you can guess, I do not recommending wasting your time renting this dreg of a flick. It could have been very funny, but the filmmakers blew it in my opinion. And Carell should stop making movies. Steve, “The 40 Year Old Virgin,” was made back in the good old days of 2005, when the world wasn’t on the brink of, well, disaster. I think Shakespeare in the park is calling your name.
I give this movie 2 beers out of a six pack. Why? Because this crap was filmed for 65 million and it actually made money at the B.O. But, I don’t think they add in marketing costs to the stated budget, so this film probably cost somebody a job. Boohoo.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Some thoughts on a few Oscar nominated flicks:
There are two movies that are nominated for Best Picture this year that I’m betting a vast majority of my innumerable reading audience have yet to see: “Winter’s Bone” and “The Kids Are All Right”.
These movies are polar opposites, like Tiger Woods and marriage (I know, the Tiger jokes are getting stale, sorry).
“The Kids Are All Right” is basically a story about Nic (Annette Bening) and Jules (Julianne Moore) as a lesbian couple raising two children, daughter Joni (Mia Wasikowska) and son, Laser (Josh Hutcherson). Joni turns eighteen and, with a little nudging from Laser, basically tracks down her biological father, Paul (Mark Ruffalo), and the kids and Paul eventually meet. Of course, Paul is introduced to Nic and Jules, and the move is about family relationships and how a rather formidable outside influence affects each member of the household.
This movie attempts, with all its might, to pass itself off as an “indie” flick, and it does a pretty good job cinematically speaking. But, the screenplay is pure Hollywood, and (this may sound a bit phony) I loved every second of it. The script is a perfect blend of drama, comedy, emotionally satisfying scenes complete with the “all is lost” moment, and one of the most important aspects a film desperately needs: a satisfying conclusion. It’s three acts of near perfection.
The characters are well-defined, and it’s a bit ironic that the kids seem to poses more maturity then their parents. Annette Bening has the neurotic, bitchy suburban housewife down pat. One can’t help but be reminded of her excellent performance in “American Beauty,” and Julianne Moore plays a slightly off-kilter, lost soul brilliantly. Make no mistake about it, all in this move don’t act like buffoonish “characters;” they actually act like real people. The conflict is so well-done it’s damn near palpable, and the acting is superb. Screen writers Lisa Cholodenko and Stuart Blumberg did an excellent job with the material, and I strongly recommend this movie.
“Winter’s Bone” received universal praise from professional critics. There is one negative review on Rotten Tomatoes’ first page commenting that the movie was boring, and I couldn’t agree more.
The movie is about Ree (Jennifer Lawrence), a 17-year-old girl who lives in a rundown shack somewhere very, very deep in the Mississippi hills, and basically is responsible for her “mentally challenged” mother, little brother and sister. It seems her father cooked meth, got busted, and makes bail by placing all of his property up for collateral (all of this happening off screen).
The movie kicks off when Ree is informed that old pop better show for his court date, in one week, or the shack, and all surrounding property, will be confiscated. Okay, cool, the stakes are extremely high, and that’s a good thing. It draws the viewer into the story and hopefully keeps them there until the end.
Evidently, Ree’s kin live within relative proximity to her on the mountain, so she sets off to trudge through the bitterly harsh, cold mountainous terrain, from one “house” to another, to locate her father. And, for me, this is where things went awry.
Ree’s vain attempts to elicit help from her family go nowhere, as they have no intention of giving her any info on her father’s whereabouts. The main problem (again, for me) is that we are introduced to a cast of characters that are never clearly defined. I kept wondering who is this person, and how is she related to them? The only one we know for sure is her Uncle, Teardrop (John Hawkes), in a role that he was born to play. The rest of them I literally had to ponder how Ree is related to this person, and it brought me out of the movie experience. When a reader (audience) is wondering who the hell a person is, especially if they are supposed to be family, and we’re sitting there putting the pieces together like a puzzle, it conflicts with the audience’s attachment to the movie.
Also, the tension does consistently mount, but there are quite a few scenes that are repeat beats (same people, same places), that it just becomes a bit too tedious. Also, Ree’s trudging through the “desolate” mountains, but we really don’t get to feel her isolation, her pathos because BOOM, she’s at the next house as if they all live in a back ass gated community. I believe a few very short scenes of her against the elements would have elevated a sense of empathy for her, almost delivering a subplot of her against nature.
Of course, I felt sorry for Ree, but this is no coming of age flick. Ree’s a tough chick from the get go. I just couldn’t connect with this movie. I didn’t get that emotional tug that a dark, brooding movie like this should pull. Oh well, maybe that’s my cross to bear.
Neither of these movies will win best picture, but the writers of “The Kids Are All Right” should get some serious props for what they created. I only wish I could do the same. Oh well, keep on tryin’.
These movies are polar opposites, like Tiger Woods and marriage (I know, the Tiger jokes are getting stale, sorry).
“The Kids Are All Right” is basically a story about Nic (Annette Bening) and Jules (Julianne Moore) as a lesbian couple raising two children, daughter Joni (Mia Wasikowska) and son, Laser (Josh Hutcherson). Joni turns eighteen and, with a little nudging from Laser, basically tracks down her biological father, Paul (Mark Ruffalo), and the kids and Paul eventually meet. Of course, Paul is introduced to Nic and Jules, and the move is about family relationships and how a rather formidable outside influence affects each member of the household.
This movie attempts, with all its might, to pass itself off as an “indie” flick, and it does a pretty good job cinematically speaking. But, the screenplay is pure Hollywood, and (this may sound a bit phony) I loved every second of it. The script is a perfect blend of drama, comedy, emotionally satisfying scenes complete with the “all is lost” moment, and one of the most important aspects a film desperately needs: a satisfying conclusion. It’s three acts of near perfection.
The characters are well-defined, and it’s a bit ironic that the kids seem to poses more maturity then their parents. Annette Bening has the neurotic, bitchy suburban housewife down pat. One can’t help but be reminded of her excellent performance in “American Beauty,” and Julianne Moore plays a slightly off-kilter, lost soul brilliantly. Make no mistake about it, all in this move don’t act like buffoonish “characters;” they actually act like real people. The conflict is so well-done it’s damn near palpable, and the acting is superb. Screen writers Lisa Cholodenko and Stuart Blumberg did an excellent job with the material, and I strongly recommend this movie.
“Winter’s Bone” received universal praise from professional critics. There is one negative review on Rotten Tomatoes’ first page commenting that the movie was boring, and I couldn’t agree more.
The movie is about Ree (Jennifer Lawrence), a 17-year-old girl who lives in a rundown shack somewhere very, very deep in the Mississippi hills, and basically is responsible for her “mentally challenged” mother, little brother and sister. It seems her father cooked meth, got busted, and makes bail by placing all of his property up for collateral (all of this happening off screen).
The movie kicks off when Ree is informed that old pop better show for his court date, in one week, or the shack, and all surrounding property, will be confiscated. Okay, cool, the stakes are extremely high, and that’s a good thing. It draws the viewer into the story and hopefully keeps them there until the end.
Evidently, Ree’s kin live within relative proximity to her on the mountain, so she sets off to trudge through the bitterly harsh, cold mountainous terrain, from one “house” to another, to locate her father. And, for me, this is where things went awry.
Ree’s vain attempts to elicit help from her family go nowhere, as they have no intention of giving her any info on her father’s whereabouts. The main problem (again, for me) is that we are introduced to a cast of characters that are never clearly defined. I kept wondering who is this person, and how is she related to them? The only one we know for sure is her Uncle, Teardrop (John Hawkes), in a role that he was born to play. The rest of them I literally had to ponder how Ree is related to this person, and it brought me out of the movie experience. When a reader (audience) is wondering who the hell a person is, especially if they are supposed to be family, and we’re sitting there putting the pieces together like a puzzle, it conflicts with the audience’s attachment to the movie.
Also, the tension does consistently mount, but there are quite a few scenes that are repeat beats (same people, same places), that it just becomes a bit too tedious. Also, Ree’s trudging through the “desolate” mountains, but we really don’t get to feel her isolation, her pathos because BOOM, she’s at the next house as if they all live in a back ass gated community. I believe a few very short scenes of her against the elements would have elevated a sense of empathy for her, almost delivering a subplot of her against nature.
Of course, I felt sorry for Ree, but this is no coming of age flick. Ree’s a tough chick from the get go. I just couldn’t connect with this movie. I didn’t get that emotional tug that a dark, brooding movie like this should pull. Oh well, maybe that’s my cross to bear.
Neither of these movies will win best picture, but the writers of “The Kids Are All Right” should get some serious props for what they created. I only wish I could do the same. Oh well, keep on tryin’.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
American Splendor is a true gem.
Right now, I’m in the confessional, kneeling down (or whatever Catholics do in those things) and softly uttering, “Forgive me Father for I have sinned. As of last week I was unaware of a man by the name of Harvey Pekar, and his creative outlet depicting run-of-the-mill events in his oh so dreary life. Father, it’s a comic book, which I have never read. EVER! The name of his work is ironically, “American Splendor.”
The Priest damn near had a heart attack. Not because I’d never heard of “American Splendor;” he was pushing 90 years of age.
Okay, enough of the sarcasm.
To be honest, I had no idea why the film "American Splendor" was in my queue on Netflix (must have read about the movie on a blog), but I’m damn glad it was there.
"American Splendor", released in 2003, is a biopic like none other. It’s definitely an independent film as: comic illustrations pop up as they please (letting the uninitiated in on what the comic book was about), the great Paul Giamatti plays Harvey, Harvey also plays Harvey, the film cuts in and out from reality to movie, and has interviews with Harvey intertwined throughout the entire film giving the viewer a glimpse into the depressive, “who gives a shit” attitude that perpetuated his personality.
Harvey grew up in Cleveland obsessed with jazz and comic books. As an adult, he had a chance encounter with illustrator Robert Crum, and the two stuck up a friendship. Crum went on to fame in the independent comic book world, and Harvey went to his dead end job as a file clerk at the V.A Hospital. (A job he held until retirement).
After his second wife bailed on him, Harvey was fed up with life and depressed about his impending legacy. He necessitated a creative outlet, so he hunkered down and after drawing stick figures with catchy dialogue gave them to Crum, and to Harvy’s shock, Crum loved ‘em. Thus, the comic book “American Splendor” was born.
The catch is Harvey was disenchanted with the universal “Super Hero” persona of the day (late ‘60’s early ’70’s); Harvey wanted to write about “real” people. Subsequently, he shunned the conventional and wrote about his life.
The acting in this movie is excellent. Giamatti is nothing short of brilliant, and when one sees the real Harvey talking (with his raspy voice), and sulking around the streets of Cleveland, then the film fades to Giamatti doing the same-- it’s almost indiscernible.
Joyce Brabner (Hope Davis) is Harvy’s third, and final, wife. Hope brings a quirky sense of humor, and self, that uplifts the films comedic aspects, and the two verbally bounce off each other like lottery balls, but one can sense the subtext that is going on and that these two societal outcasts completely belong together. The two truly are one. This becomes obvious when Harvey develops cancer, and Joyce refuses to let Harvey wallow in his own self-pity. She demands that they chronicle the experience, which they did, and it became an award winning book, “Our Cancer Year.”
Also, there’s a scene where Joyce, a depressive herself, categorizes Harvey as obsessive-compulsive, and then in subsequent, almost montage-like scenes, rattles off the psychological impairments of his co-worker/friends. This is very amusing and excellent writing.
Harvy’s existence was far from glamorous, as stated above, he never left his job at the V.A. But, this was actually advantageous in that he observed his kooky co-workers and gained much of his material from them – and all of the people that surrounded him. (the cut below should explain all. Enjoy; It's brilliant).
Harvey Pekar lived a very strange, quasi famous, yet infamous life. He never gained huge monetary advantages from his work (David Letterman tried to help Harvey with multiple appearances on the show, but that, as one would expect, ended in disaster). If anything, Harvey was not a sellout. He just didn’t give a damn, but deep down in the depths of his soul, again, one gets the feeling that he actually did.
After I viewed "American Splendor", I felt like I was introduced to a man of the people who wrote about them and the crap everyday human beings must endure on a day-to-day basis--and he parodied it. It’s as if he tapped into the collective unconscious and let his anger and sarcasm flow like brew from a keg. He made fun of being human. Hmmmm, sounds like a comedian who made millions on t.v. with a show “about nothing.”
Unfortunately, Harvey passed away this year of cancer. I’m sure he’ll be missed by millions, but, at least, his legacy is fully in tact.
Directors Shari Springer Berman and Robert Pulcini should be commended for a job exceedingly well done.
I give it four beers out of a six pack. Believe me, one doesn't have to be a comic book fan to enjoy fine art, and that's exactly what this is.
The Priest damn near had a heart attack. Not because I’d never heard of “American Splendor;” he was pushing 90 years of age.
Okay, enough of the sarcasm.
To be honest, I had no idea why the film "American Splendor" was in my queue on Netflix (must have read about the movie on a blog), but I’m damn glad it was there.
"American Splendor", released in 2003, is a biopic like none other. It’s definitely an independent film as: comic illustrations pop up as they please (letting the uninitiated in on what the comic book was about), the great Paul Giamatti plays Harvey, Harvey also plays Harvey, the film cuts in and out from reality to movie, and has interviews with Harvey intertwined throughout the entire film giving the viewer a glimpse into the depressive, “who gives a shit” attitude that perpetuated his personality.
Harvey grew up in Cleveland obsessed with jazz and comic books. As an adult, he had a chance encounter with illustrator Robert Crum, and the two stuck up a friendship. Crum went on to fame in the independent comic book world, and Harvey went to his dead end job as a file clerk at the V.A Hospital. (A job he held until retirement).
After his second wife bailed on him, Harvey was fed up with life and depressed about his impending legacy. He necessitated a creative outlet, so he hunkered down and after drawing stick figures with catchy dialogue gave them to Crum, and to Harvy’s shock, Crum loved ‘em. Thus, the comic book “American Splendor” was born.
The catch is Harvey was disenchanted with the universal “Super Hero” persona of the day (late ‘60’s early ’70’s); Harvey wanted to write about “real” people. Subsequently, he shunned the conventional and wrote about his life.
The acting in this movie is excellent. Giamatti is nothing short of brilliant, and when one sees the real Harvey talking (with his raspy voice), and sulking around the streets of Cleveland, then the film fades to Giamatti doing the same-- it’s almost indiscernible.
Joyce Brabner (Hope Davis) is Harvy’s third, and final, wife. Hope brings a quirky sense of humor, and self, that uplifts the films comedic aspects, and the two verbally bounce off each other like lottery balls, but one can sense the subtext that is going on and that these two societal outcasts completely belong together. The two truly are one. This becomes obvious when Harvey develops cancer, and Joyce refuses to let Harvey wallow in his own self-pity. She demands that they chronicle the experience, which they did, and it became an award winning book, “Our Cancer Year.”
Also, there’s a scene where Joyce, a depressive herself, categorizes Harvey as obsessive-compulsive, and then in subsequent, almost montage-like scenes, rattles off the psychological impairments of his co-worker/friends. This is very amusing and excellent writing.
Harvy’s existence was far from glamorous, as stated above, he never left his job at the V.A. But, this was actually advantageous in that he observed his kooky co-workers and gained much of his material from them – and all of the people that surrounded him. (the cut below should explain all. Enjoy; It's brilliant).
Harvey Pekar lived a very strange, quasi famous, yet infamous life. He never gained huge monetary advantages from his work (David Letterman tried to help Harvey with multiple appearances on the show, but that, as one would expect, ended in disaster). If anything, Harvey was not a sellout. He just didn’t give a damn, but deep down in the depths of his soul, again, one gets the feeling that he actually did.
After I viewed "American Splendor", I felt like I was introduced to a man of the people who wrote about them and the crap everyday human beings must endure on a day-to-day basis--and he parodied it. It’s as if he tapped into the collective unconscious and let his anger and sarcasm flow like brew from a keg. He made fun of being human. Hmmmm, sounds like a comedian who made millions on t.v. with a show “about nothing.”
Unfortunately, Harvey passed away this year of cancer. I’m sure he’ll be missed by millions, but, at least, his legacy is fully in tact.
Directors Shari Springer Berman and Robert Pulcini should be commended for a job exceedingly well done.
I give it four beers out of a six pack. Believe me, one doesn't have to be a comic book fan to enjoy fine art, and that's exactly what this is.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Cyrus: A big fat “waist” of time.
As an amateur screenwriter, I keep an eye on what’s going on in the business of Hollywood. And from what I’ve read in the last two years, it’s more difficult to sell a spec script, or for that matter, get a movie made these days than during the roaring ’80, when a dipshit like me could get a spec optioned for six figures.
So, when I sat (or should I say endured) Cyrus the other day, the only question on my mind was, “How does this happen?” My only answer: Connections. You gotta have ‘em, or crap like this doesn’t stand a chance.
Think of your favorite movies. Just take some time and reflect on the movies you really love. OK, finished? I’m going to bet that 95% of them involve a protagonist, a really bad-ass antagonist, and something that (in my estimation, and most in Hollywood would agree) is essential for a movie: Conflict. Conflict drives a movie; it’s what draws a viewer into the scene, the next scene, making you “emotionally” involved until (hopefully) a rewarding conclusion.
Believe me, I’m no expert, and I’m not the one getting movies made, but this is a concept, I truly feel, that writer/directors Jay and Mark Duplass have no concept of.
The movie’s plot line revolves around John (John C. Reilly), who’s been divorced from wife, Jamie (Catherine Keener) for seven years—and still hasn’t gotten over it! This, my friends, is what’s called a huge plot hole, in my estimation. Maybe I’m wrong, but seven years is A LONG time.
To continue to pine over your ex (who dumped you and is getting remarried), for seven years? Not buyin’ it. I’ll buy two years, like Miles in Sideways, but not seven, and this happened in the first five minutes into the film. This is a technique to make the audience feel “empathy” for the lost soul. It just made me think the guy’s a total loser who obsesses over objects he can’t have. Christ, even Milton from Office Space could nab another chick in seven years, and he couldn’t even get a damn piece of cake.
As the movie progresses, John ends up at a party, with his ex and her fiancé(Matt Walsh), and, of course, he meets somebody. That somebody is Molly (Marisa Tomei).
OK, now our suspension is getting severely tested way too early in the movie, as Molly takes a liking to John, and they actually have sex that night. So, now we have one of the most beautiful women on this planet banging one of the strangest looking, emotionally broke, financially strapped guys in L.A. Really? In one of the most plastic cities in the world, this happens? Again, not buyin’ it. (Why do writers like Aptow throw premises at us like Katherine Heigl screwing losers like Seth Rogen in Knocked Up? Does this really happen? Maybe in Sacramento, but L.A.? Sure, if he's a famous Producer).
As it turns out, Molly has a son, Cyrus(Jonah Hill). He’s a 22-year-old with no job, has never left the nest, possesses no ambition only to compose strange synth beats with his quite expensive music equipment. Mind you, we’re close to 30 minutes in, and, barring the first scene (a scene we’ve all seen before), there’s literally no conflict, just talking heads spouting boring exposition, and not done very well I might add.
Slowly, we get the feeling that Cyrus, playing it cool, really doesn’t want John around. Whew, finally we can wake up and maybe get into this movie. Well, in short, what could have been a really funny and conflict ridden movie turns out to be a dud. The total time of cognitive arousing amusement lasts maybe 10 minutes at best.
Another piece of exposition that Molly spits out in act one, is that, “No man has slept over [at her house] since Cyrus was born.” You’re telling me that a woman of her beauty doesn’t have guys chasing her to her house and banging the doors down? We're talking twenty-two years! That’s the piece of exposition that took me out for a walk, and the only reason I continued to watch, was because I had a meeting and had time to kill.
Also, there is a very unnerving aspect regarding the relationship between Molly and Cyrus: It feels damn close to incestuous. And with all this exposition flying around like fire flies, we are never let in on the minute detail of how the Molly pays the bills. She has no job, nor does Cyrus. I love it when screenplays leave out insignificant morsels of information such as how somebody supports themselves. It just is, and that to me, is arrogant film making.
Finally, the audience was “ahead” of the movie, meaning everybody in the theater knew what was going to happen before the event occurs. I actually herd a senior citizen whisper to her friend what was going to transpire in a scene regarding John’s tennis shoes three seconds before it actually happened. This continued throughout the entire movie. If Grandma is ahead of hot-shot screenwriters, I'm guessing they tossed the first draft up on the big screen and left the rewriting ... well, maybe there was no rewriting. This is a mortal sin. There were absolutely no twists, no reversals, nothing to engage the viewer—except Marisa Tomei’s stunning beauty. And maybe that’s what the film makers were banking on.
The direction is some of the worst I’ve ever seen. These guys have made some indie movies and went for that feel with the way the movie was filmed. It didn’t work. The lens was constantly moving to an extreme close up and then back to a fuller shot. This “cool” technique gave me a headache, and I damn near felt seasick as I left the theater.
Finally, Jonah Hill needs to go on a diet. I know he’s on a roll with two movies out now (the other is Get Him to the Greek), but he should seriously consider discontinuing shoving butter laden "rolls" down his throat.
As far as characters go, Cyrus was the most "entertaining." I wouldn’t spend five minutes with any of the others. (Except Marisa, in real life, which will never happen).
The critics gave this movie an 80 on RottenTomatoes, which, to me, proves they want to be “cool” by recommending an “indie” film. My question to them is: “Are you aware this is a mainstream movie?”
My recommendation: Don’t “waste” a dime on this mess.
I give it zero beers out of a six pack.
Footnote-- I'm aware there are thousands of movies that are similar to this one in that they attempt to "break away" from the Hollywood "formula." Cyrus is billed as a comedy, so, yes, they don't have to follow Blake Snyder's "Save The Cat" formula such as Miss Congeniality. But the question is, "Which movie made more money?" Cyrus won't come close to recouping it's budget. It's just too quirky and plain not funny enough to get the much needed "word of mouth" that a movie like this must have to succeed, where as the latter made millions and spawned a sequel.
God love Noah Baumbach. The Squid and the Whale was a great movie.
Margot at the Wedding was a huge letdown, and Greenberg didn't do well at the B.O.; or Nichole Holofcener, writer/director of Friends With Money and Please Give, among others.
I view these two writer/directors as the most successful, at this point in time, in the sub-class of indie/mainstream movies. My question is: "Given the economic climate, how much longer can they continue making movies that don't make money?" We all know what Hollywood's about, and artistic creativity isn't first on the list.
I'm glad they're out there, continuing to carry the indie banner; my only concern is that they might try to push the boundaries so far that Producers just pull the plug on them, effectively shutting down indie movie making altogether. Then again, these are two very established film makers, and what does it take to make movies like these: Connections. It all comes down to connections.
And if you're a nobody, like me, a killer script might help.
So, when I sat (or should I say endured) Cyrus the other day, the only question on my mind was, “How does this happen?” My only answer: Connections. You gotta have ‘em, or crap like this doesn’t stand a chance.
Think of your favorite movies. Just take some time and reflect on the movies you really love. OK, finished? I’m going to bet that 95% of them involve a protagonist, a really bad-ass antagonist, and something that (in my estimation, and most in Hollywood would agree) is essential for a movie: Conflict. Conflict drives a movie; it’s what draws a viewer into the scene, the next scene, making you “emotionally” involved until (hopefully) a rewarding conclusion.
Believe me, I’m no expert, and I’m not the one getting movies made, but this is a concept, I truly feel, that writer/directors Jay and Mark Duplass have no concept of.
The movie’s plot line revolves around John (John C. Reilly), who’s been divorced from wife, Jamie (Catherine Keener) for seven years—and still hasn’t gotten over it! This, my friends, is what’s called a huge plot hole, in my estimation. Maybe I’m wrong, but seven years is A LONG time.
To continue to pine over your ex (who dumped you and is getting remarried), for seven years? Not buyin’ it. I’ll buy two years, like Miles in Sideways, but not seven, and this happened in the first five minutes into the film. This is a technique to make the audience feel “empathy” for the lost soul. It just made me think the guy’s a total loser who obsesses over objects he can’t have. Christ, even Milton from Office Space could nab another chick in seven years, and he couldn’t even get a damn piece of cake.
As the movie progresses, John ends up at a party, with his ex and her fiancé(Matt Walsh), and, of course, he meets somebody. That somebody is Molly (Marisa Tomei).
OK, now our suspension is getting severely tested way too early in the movie, as Molly takes a liking to John, and they actually have sex that night. So, now we have one of the most beautiful women on this planet banging one of the strangest looking, emotionally broke, financially strapped guys in L.A. Really? In one of the most plastic cities in the world, this happens? Again, not buyin’ it. (Why do writers like Aptow throw premises at us like Katherine Heigl screwing losers like Seth Rogen in Knocked Up? Does this really happen? Maybe in Sacramento, but L.A.? Sure, if he's a famous Producer).
As it turns out, Molly has a son, Cyrus(Jonah Hill). He’s a 22-year-old with no job, has never left the nest, possesses no ambition only to compose strange synth beats with his quite expensive music equipment. Mind you, we’re close to 30 minutes in, and, barring the first scene (a scene we’ve all seen before), there’s literally no conflict, just talking heads spouting boring exposition, and not done very well I might add.
Slowly, we get the feeling that Cyrus, playing it cool, really doesn’t want John around. Whew, finally we can wake up and maybe get into this movie. Well, in short, what could have been a really funny and conflict ridden movie turns out to be a dud. The total time of cognitive arousing amusement lasts maybe 10 minutes at best.
Another piece of exposition that Molly spits out in act one, is that, “No man has slept over [at her house] since Cyrus was born.” You’re telling me that a woman of her beauty doesn’t have guys chasing her to her house and banging the doors down? We're talking twenty-two years! That’s the piece of exposition that took me out for a walk, and the only reason I continued to watch, was because I had a meeting and had time to kill.
Also, there is a very unnerving aspect regarding the relationship between Molly and Cyrus: It feels damn close to incestuous. And with all this exposition flying around like fire flies, we are never let in on the minute detail of how the Molly pays the bills. She has no job, nor does Cyrus. I love it when screenplays leave out insignificant morsels of information such as how somebody supports themselves. It just is, and that to me, is arrogant film making.
Finally, the audience was “ahead” of the movie, meaning everybody in the theater knew what was going to happen before the event occurs. I actually herd a senior citizen whisper to her friend what was going to transpire in a scene regarding John’s tennis shoes three seconds before it actually happened. This continued throughout the entire movie. If Grandma is ahead of hot-shot screenwriters, I'm guessing they tossed the first draft up on the big screen and left the rewriting ... well, maybe there was no rewriting. This is a mortal sin. There were absolutely no twists, no reversals, nothing to engage the viewer—except Marisa Tomei’s stunning beauty. And maybe that’s what the film makers were banking on.
The direction is some of the worst I’ve ever seen. These guys have made some indie movies and went for that feel with the way the movie was filmed. It didn’t work. The lens was constantly moving to an extreme close up and then back to a fuller shot. This “cool” technique gave me a headache, and I damn near felt seasick as I left the theater.
Finally, Jonah Hill needs to go on a diet. I know he’s on a roll with two movies out now (the other is Get Him to the Greek), but he should seriously consider discontinuing shoving butter laden "rolls" down his throat.
As far as characters go, Cyrus was the most "entertaining." I wouldn’t spend five minutes with any of the others. (Except Marisa, in real life, which will never happen).
The critics gave this movie an 80 on RottenTomatoes, which, to me, proves they want to be “cool” by recommending an “indie” film. My question to them is: “Are you aware this is a mainstream movie?”
My recommendation: Don’t “waste” a dime on this mess.
I give it zero beers out of a six pack.
Footnote-- I'm aware there are thousands of movies that are similar to this one in that they attempt to "break away" from the Hollywood "formula." Cyrus is billed as a comedy, so, yes, they don't have to follow Blake Snyder's "Save The Cat" formula such as Miss Congeniality. But the question is, "Which movie made more money?" Cyrus won't come close to recouping it's budget. It's just too quirky and plain not funny enough to get the much needed "word of mouth" that a movie like this must have to succeed, where as the latter made millions and spawned a sequel.
God love Noah Baumbach. The Squid and the Whale was a great movie.
Margot at the Wedding was a huge letdown, and Greenberg didn't do well at the B.O.; or Nichole Holofcener, writer/director of Friends With Money and Please Give, among others.
I view these two writer/directors as the most successful, at this point in time, in the sub-class of indie/mainstream movies. My question is: "Given the economic climate, how much longer can they continue making movies that don't make money?" We all know what Hollywood's about, and artistic creativity isn't first on the list.
I'm glad they're out there, continuing to carry the indie banner; my only concern is that they might try to push the boundaries so far that Producers just pull the plug on them, effectively shutting down indie movie making altogether. Then again, these are two very established film makers, and what does it take to make movies like these: Connections. It all comes down to connections.
And if you're a nobody, like me, a killer script might help.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)