Netflix This: Friends With Kids

     If one were to read my pieces on the other web site that I write film reviews for, shiftmaine.com, they could see that I was a big fan of the 2001 romantic comedy, Kissing Jessica Stein, a girl-meets-girl story about a woman who decides to try to become physically/sexually attracted to other women. It starred (and was written by) Jennifer Westfeldt, and it was a humorous blend of drama, love and desire. Last year's Friends With Kids--also starring and written by Ms. Westfeldt--falls into that same category: a romantic comedy that's smart and different about the strain that having a child puts on a relationship, whether between two lovers...or two friends. Like Kissing Jessica, it's a pleasant surprise that propels Jennifer Westfeldt into the hierarchy of top chick-flick writers, and it's film that men should be happy to watch with their significant others instead of the typical, cliche, moronic feces that gets diarrhea-ed into theaters every week.
     Friends With Kids focuses on three couples in love and friendship. Mainly, we see Jason (Adam Scott, revelatory in this starring role) and Julie (Westfeldt), two long-time friends who have known each for years and live in the same building in New York. These two are not in love, but their platonic connection makes them ideal friends: they know each others' values and insights, they finish each others' sentences, and they constantly tell each other about various men and women who they date, sometime graphically. Alex and Leslie (Bridesmaid's Chris O'Dowd and Maya Rudolph) are a fairly normal couple, with the typical amount of love and bickering, and when they decide to have a child, it puts the thought into Julie and Jason's head that their biological clock is ticking faster and faster. Ben (Jon Hamm, in a good change-of-pace role from Don Draper on AMC's Mad Men) and Missy (Kristen Wiig) round out the friend group, and they portray a couple that constantly emerge from bathrooms and other public places with an orgasmic glow (until they have children, too, of course).
     Flash forward a few years later, and Julie and Jason are seeing what their friends are going through: once the two other couples have had children, the lack of sex, disappearance of sensuality and prominence of poop in their lives has turned them bitter and less fun-filled. Despite all of this, Julie and Jason take a huge life step: they decide to have a child then share the custody and continue their own, separate journey through love. That's the premise of Friends With Kids, and the adventure in baby barf, arguments, and observations about parenting and funny and fruitful. In a film such as this, with its typical romantic comedy set-up (Will Julie and Jason realize that resistance if futile? Will they fall in love, once their friendship produced a child?), the ending might seem predictable. But the sharp and shrewd screenplay, along with the touching performances of all involved, heaves it high above the heap of 2011's chick-flick fare.
   

Lawless: A Tale of Bootleggin' Brotherly Love

     Lawless is a story about brothers and the lengths they will go for each other, their criminal enterprise, and their notorious reputation. It's hard to imagine two more different actors playing the two main Bondurant brothers: Tom Hardy, ever the presence of cinematic electricity in every film that showcases his ability (specifically his brawny insanity in Bronson, his emotional brutishness in Warrior, and his masked-villain anger in the recent The Dark Knight Rises), portrays Forrest, the leader of the Bondurant brothers, a man with many legends and a history of violence in the moon-shining era. Then we have Shia LaBeouf, ever the presence of cinematic annoyance (specifically as Michael Bay's golden boy in the Transformers franchise and in the easy-to-forget Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of *Fart Noise*), portraying Jack, the Bondurant "runt of the litter", a man who finally begins to realize his potential in the family business. Somehow--with Hardy's typical brilliance, LaBeouf's first worthwhile starring role, and the script and direction--it works. Lawless is a good but flawed film, a film that is saved by its performances, yet with a run time of nearly two hours, it feels too short.
     Lawless was originally titled The Wettest Country in the World, and it's based on the book of the same name by Matt Bondurant, the grandson and great-nephew of some of the characters in the film. The movie jumps right into the main story: the Bondurant brothers make some of the god-damned best moonshine in Franklin County, VA. They have a good hold of the market, and when it comes to opposition, they--especially Forrest, who speaks mainly in grunts--take no prisoners. Soon after meeting the brothers (the third of which is named Howard [Jason Clarke], who has a mean streak due to his moonshine alcoholism), a group of men ride up into the Bondurant compound. These men are led by a man named Rakes (Memento's Guy Pearce), a special agent from Chicago with a chip on his shoulder and a stick up his ass--maybe literally...he sure seems a bit off. He doesn't really have any eyebrows and reminded me of Steve-O when he shaved his body hair for Jackass. The problem with Rakes isn't Pearce's slightly-over-the-top performance (he speaks in a villainous high-speech, is immaculately dressed and wears more perfume than whores at a brothel), but the fact that he enters Lawless with no buildup or back story. Who is this man, this foil for the Bondurant brothers, and why does he care so much about bringing them down?
     The brothers base their operation out of a bar/restaurant (and gas station, I guess. I only know this because during one violent episode a pump-nozzle gets shoved into someone's mouth). Police hassle them there, rival booze-runners hassle them on the road and during drop-offs, and nearly every few scenes showcase a brutally violent showdown that has Shia LaBeouf getting his ass kicked (something he needed to do as an act of goodwill for movie-viewers worldwide) and Tom Hardy breaking bones with a set of brass knuckles, grumbling in his Neanderthal charm. Two women eventually enter the picture, and basically their only purpose is to add a female eye-candy presence to the proceedings: Maggie (Jessica Chastain) is a dancer from Chicago who was tired of violent men, clearly making the wrong choice to move to Franklin county. She becomes a worker for the Bondurants, performing various tasks to help the business run and add a pretty face. Bertha (Alice in Wonderland's Mia Wasikowska) is a preacher's daughter that LaBeouf's Jack falls madly in love with. Neither woman adds anything particularly interesting to Lawless. I won't even get into the fact that the great Gary Oldman is in the film as a powerful gangster, as he is so under-utilized that I questioned his presence altogether.
     Lawless was directed by John Hillcoat, and he was definitely a good choice: just like in his desolate films The Proposition and The Road, the way he films the land and the way he shows the shocking flashes of violence are top-notch. It was also written by musician Nick Cave (who also wrote Hillcoat's The Proposition). Unfortunately, Lawless doesn't quite match up with the former film's weirdness and original story. This is nothing we haven't seen before in the good Western films of the past twenty years, or even the last two years in HBO's wonderful and far-more-engaging Prohibition epic Boardwalk Empire.
     It's impossible to ignore the effort that the cast and crew put into Lawless. When Shia LaBeouf finally shows that he has the talent to act alongside wonderful character actors Hardy and Pearce, I consider that a win for everyone. But it still doesn't change the fact the film feels disjointed and the ending--the inevitable violent conclusion--predictable. Occasionally, one scene will jump to the next, and the viewer feels like they missed something. Gary Oldman's character, as I stated before, seems particularly pointless. Apparently, there is a reason for this: Lawless supposedly had an original three-hour cut before the studio made Hillcoat shave it down to a more viewer-friendly two hours. It wasn't for the best. When blood is spurting and the brothers are warring, Lawless has a brutal and visceral appeal--for the rest of the film, I felt like I had guzzled too much moonshine.     (B)
   

Netflix This: "The Raid: Redemption"

     Now, the title of this blog post is "Netflix This:". One would assume that the following text would give the reasons to why one would want to Netflix a certain movie. But for this one, there is a disclaimer: Netflix This only if you are a fan of totally badass martial arts, incredible stunt-filled fight scenes, blood that spurts in every single direction and out of every single human orifice, and a plot that involves only one thing. Violence. Lots and lots of violence.
     The story--what little there is--is simple and sparse: deep in the ghetto of a city in Indonesia, a huge apartment building becomes the safe house for some of the city's most notorious and dangerous criminals. These are not the type of people that the general public wants to mess with. Crime lord Tami Riyadi is the sickest of them all, torturing and shooting rival gang members and even the police.
     Rookie cop Rama and a 20-man SWAT team lead a mission into the building to rid it of the criminal scum. Floor by floor, they have to slash (or shoot, or stab, or dismember, or bone break, or impale, or bludgeon, or smash, etc) their way higher into the decrepit pit of an apartment building. Challenges await at every turn: doors are blocked, men with automatic machine guns wait around corners, stairways are in rubble. The lead gangsters live near the top of the building with plenty of high-tech gadgetry and cameras to keep tabs on the ever-dwindling SWAT team. Not everyone in the building is a hardened criminal, though they all are loyal to their frightening landlord. Most men attack the police squad, and kids act as spotters to slow the team's already-slow progress.
   
     There's a very simple way to determine whether or not you will enjoy The Raid: Redemption. Take a look at this fight scene. Most in the film are different variations of this--senseless and ultra-violent killing with martial arts and incredible fight choreography:

     It's best to the leave the discussion about the place of violence and killing in film at the door with The Raid. Someones you're just in the mood for a visceral experience that is basically unrivaled in its absolute non-stop action and bloodshed. Once the SWAT team is in the building, downtime is minimal. There cant be much more than 15 minutes of dialogue in the entire film (unless you count grunting and the weird high-pitched noises that every martial artist yelps when they land a hand-to-hand blow as dialogue). As one might except--like in the older Steven Seagal or JCVD showcases of violent revenge--some of the fight scenes obviously get a bit repetitive at times. But Welsh director Gareth Evans sure knows how to stage amazing stunt-packed fight scenes, and there's enough innovation to keep your attention throughout the entire 100 minute run time. Almost like an intricate ballet or a gymnastics performance, The Raid: Redemption sucks you in to its sophisticated action while shooting your arm with a needle filled with 100% adrenaline.

The Reborn Bourne Leaves a Lasting Legacy

     When we first meet Aaron Cross, the new hero of the Bourne franchise that is still surprisingly good, he's hanging out in Alaska, popping mysterious pills like an Oxycontin addict, making superhuman leaps and having a William Tell-esque marksmanship with his high-powered rifle. He is seemingly in a training exercise to see how the human body responds to horrendous conditions and unknown medications that he has to take at certain time intervals. The first bit of this new entry in the hugely popular franchise could pass for an original thriller that wouldn't need to draw connections to Matt Damon's trilogy. However, The Bourne Legacy--with its new plot, new star, and surprising innovation to the formula--morphs into a perfectly good and worthwhile entry into the growing franchise that is better than any viewer should expect it to be.
     As the plot moves along, we realize that this is a Bourne film through and through, with all of its secret backroom government discussions and brutal hand-to-hand combat fights that work incredibly well. Much of the success has to do with the Bourne franchise's new star, Jeremy Renner: yes, ever since his intense turn in 2008's The Hurt Locker (easily one of the best films of that year), Renner has taken a role in just about any franchise that will write him a paycheck (Marvel's superhero universe, Mission Impossible), but he really shines bright here. It helps that he always brings an intensity that is rare in young, modern actors; he's a guy that thinks before he acts, yet always seems to make the right decision, usually in life-or-death situations. Unlike Matt Damon's portrayal of Jason Bourne, who was surprised at his own killing skill set (just as the viewer was surprised that Matt Damon could be such a force to be reckoned with), Renner is fully capable from the beginning, showing an aptitude for pulling off I-can't-believe-that-just-happened maneuvers.
     Speaking of Jason Bourne and his escapades, Aaron Cross (obviously) gets put in a similar situation: flushed out from a secret government project, similar to "Treadstone" in the previous Bourne films, he goes on the run to hunt for a way to have all of the abilities that his daily medication gives him without having to pop the pills. So he meets up with Dr. Marta Shearing (Rachel Weisz), an expert on the blue/green pills and the way that they interact with human genes. She has problems of her own, as she knows way too much information on this secret government project once the metaphorical excrement hits the oscillating air device.

     Leading the charge to take out anyone and everyone who knows far too much about this dangerous program is Eric Byer, played with seriousness by Edward Norton, an actor who is a natural at playing intense characters that always seem to be trying to fix something. The rest of the cast contains a bunch of notable names, whether they are in the film for five minutes or five seconds. Usually it's quick flashes of dialogue or arguing about video surveillance footage or drone radars--all of these scenes show the most modern of spy-type technology: it would come as no surprise that in the inevitable Bourne 5 these electronics-fueled government types will be able to tell where Aaron Cross last ate lunch from a Google Earth image of a post-poo toilet bowl.
   
   
     This wouldn't be a Bourne film without some great action scenes, and Legacy has plenty of them. The first scenes in Alaska are cool and cold, as Aaron battles wolves and the elements like Liam Neeson in The Grey. The scenes involving Weisz's Doc involve an added tension, as Aaron has to battle two things at once: bad guys wielding automatic weapons and Marta's ineptitude at hurting people without emotion. A chase around the rooftops in Manila starts off strong, with leaps, bounds, and plunges up and down the uneven metal roof terrain. This chase finishes with a vehicular chase, kind of a signature of the Matt Damon films, but Legacy's was a bit unrealistic (particularly when Aaron grinds down a stair-railing with a motorcycle better than Tony Hawk could have done with a skateboard). The finish was brutal and unexpected, though.
     This fourth entry in the Bourne franchise was directed by Tony Gilroy, who had previously written or co-written the three previous entries. He also directed the slick (and good) George Clooney thriller, Michael Clayton, about backroom mental breakdowns and lawsuits at a major corporation. He is plenty fit for this job: The Bourne Legacy looks great and moves at a breakneck speed, even when there are long scenes of dialogue on the screen (and even when the plot becomes indecipherable at certain moments). Ultimately, even though the film ends quite abruptly with a (Spoiler Alert!) set up for the inevitable sequel, The Bourne Legacy, with its interesting addiction plot and the addition of agents with better strength, stamina and intelligence, is a step in a certain direction. Not a step forward, nor a step backward: a step sideways...into intriguing territory.     (B+)

Netflix This: The Hunter

     Willem Dafoe is one of those actors that is so recognizable that just a glimpse of his sharply-lined face and jaw or the soothing (yet dangerous) sound of his voice can flood your mind with memories of myriad great films: specifically, one of his wonderful first roles in Platoon, his cult-like-status character in The Boondock Saints, or his absolutely brutal turn in Lars von Trier's Antichrist. It's easy to forget--what with all the small, bit character roles that Dafoe is so great at (and the fact that he's been nominated for Best Supporting Actor at the Oscars instead of Best Actor)--that Willem can carry an entire film on his own shoulders. He does so in The Hunter, an interesting and weird little Australian film that clearly showcases Dafoe's ability to captivate an audience. Although the plot is somewhat muddled and occasionally predictable, The Hunter (much like another very solid 2012 film, The Grey) relies on its solitude-enveloped performances and incredible wilderness cinematography to tell a story about hunting and human survival.
     There used to be an animal called the Tasmanian Tiger. For real. Check it out, HERE. They have thought to be extinct since 1936, and before that they mostly inhabited the grasslands and wetlands of continental Australia. The Hunter revolves around this animal: Martin (Willem Dafoe) is a mercenary with good aim and better instincts. He gets hired by a mysterious company to try and track down this elusive, thought-to-be-extinct creature, to harvest its organs and genetic material for experiments. He poses as a scientist and travels to Tasmania, where he gets set up with a family while he conducts his under-the-radar hunting. But this family has some dark secrets: two young kids, Sass and Bike, run around without supervision as their mother, Lucy, is laid up in bed, addicted to prescription medication. The father, Jarrah, has been missing for a significant amount of time. He may or may not have been looking for information on the same dangerous, phantom animal up in the dark woods.
     The plot gets even thicker as The Hunter's run time moves along: the locals don't take too kindly to a "foreigner" coming into town, shacking up with a family and conducting mysterious business in the treacherous forest. Things only get much tougher for Martin as he inches closer and closer to loving his host family. A decision will have to be made: will Martin be able to overcome the ever-growing dangers of the angry town locals? Should Martin continue his research in the hazardous landscape? And even if he found the extremely elusive Tasmanian Tiger, does Martin have to intestinal fortitude to murder it for research?
      The Hunter looks incredible. The entire film was shot on location in Tasmania, and much of it was shot in the beautiful Central Plateau Conservation Area and the Upper Florentine Valley. The landscape is a character of its own, with plenty of gorgeous cliffs and threatening old-growth forests permeating from each scene. It's a thought-provoking movie, with plenty of questions about ethics, environmental protection, and survival. Yes, the plot is occasionally predictable, and the townsfolk have a Straw Dogs-ish staleness, but the slow-burn satisfaction of Dafoe's understated performance raises it above most any typical survival thriller.

(Available on Netflix Instant Watch)
    


What You'll Want to be Watching: Fall's Returning Shows

     People who watch good television are spoiled. For every person who complains about how there is "never anything good on T.V.", there is another--much smarter--person who realizes that we are living in an entertainment viewer's dream, a decade of incredible dramas and hilarious comedies. Like a book that you can't put down, a worthy television show can suck you down into it's 10-12 episode depths. Take a look at some of the shows that will be returning sometime between September and October: Dexter is returning for it's seventh season on September 30th. Though I feel the series has really fallen off the rails since John Lithgow's wonderful turn as The Trinity Killer in season 4, it's nearly impossible to give up on it now. AMC's The Walking Dead returns on October 14th. For me, this extremely popular show is a series of high highs and low lows. The soap-opera story lines involving the annoying (Rick's wife and Andrea) group members is super tiresome, but some of the innovative action and underlying sense of dread makes it plenty worthwhile. Particularly great is this trailer for season 3, which feels like the show is headed in a darker direction.

     Two shows are really worth getting excited for. The first is the third season of HBO's Prohibition-era Boardwalk Empire, which beams back onto our television sets on September 16th. A new trailer has been airing before some of HBO's recent shows, and although it doesn't show much new footage, it's clear that Nucky's (the always-getting-better Steve Buscemi) season 2 showdown with Jimmy has turned him into a force to be reckoned with. Watch the trailer here, but be warned about getting spoiled. Clearly, the focus on this shooting shows that Nucky has turned a major corner in his life, and there is sure to be major turmoil with Margaret becoming more independent (signified by Nucky's wedding ring fall off of his finger into the mud). Season 3--according to creator Terrance Winter--moves into the "roaring twenties" (1923, to be exact), when the economy began to really boom and illegal alcohol sales made people rich. It should be another wonderful journey into booze, gangsters and 1920's-era fashion and ferocity.

     The second is last year's best new show, Homeland, which returns for its second season on September 30th, directly after the premiere of Dexter. The Manchurian Candidate-esque plot follows CIA agent Carrie Mathison (Claire Danes, in a career-defining role), a bipolar and driven woman who hides her condition from her employer. After spending time on a mission in the Middle East, Carrie begins to believe that a recent POW, Brody (Damian Lewis), who has returned to the states, has actually been turned and is a double agent working for Al-Qaeda. It provides for plenty of tension as Carrie begins monitoring Brody illegally. Though the end of season 1 cleared up some answers, it also left some great questions to provide these new episodes with plenty of adult drama. Most people will come back for Danes' hectic performance, a woman on the brink of a psychotic episode at any moment. Like any spy/double agent story, Homeland's greatness relies on the characters figuring out the deep-down truth of a possible terrorist plot. But the question is, can Carrie trust her own mind, and can we--as the viewer--trust Carrie's CIA-honed instincts?

     

When Gotham is Ashes, The Dark Knight Rises

    In the seven years since Batman Begins was released, it's been clear that director Christopher Nolan's take on Bruce Wayne's story has been something a little different, a little scarier, a little closer to America's real-life situations than all of the other super-hero films (Iron Man, Spider-Man, etc.) that are supposed to be as funny as they are whimsical. By the time The Dark Knight was released, just the second film in Nolan's trilogy, the director and cast had already refined the apocalyptic vision of Gotham City and Batman into a film as close to perfection as a superhero movie can reach (helped tremendously by Heath Ledger's otherworldly performance). So it's no surprise, then, that The Dark Knight Rises is one of most anticipated cinematic experiences in years.
     Eight years have passed since the events of The Dark Knight, when Batman took the fall for Harvey Dent so Gotham could have a hero that they needed to become a better city. Bruce Wayne, secluded in a massive manor while Gotham became a city with less crime and more opportunity, once again has to come forward due to a new, incredibly powerful villain that is threatening not just Batman and Gotham's citizens, but its class and financial systems as well. The film is filled to burst with thoughts on terrorism and class warfare--I'm hesitant to mention 9/11 or the recent shooting at the Colorado theater, but when watching the film, it's hard not to react to a plot that feeds off of America's collective consciousness and our anxiety in a post-9/11 era, where fear (instead of hope) is pumped through every news station on television, fear as gross as raw sewage.
     The Dark Knight Rises is Nolan's last film about the caped crusader, and it comes with the same finality as a period at the end of a sentence. It helps having a brilliant core of actors at your disposal, willing to go to great lengths to make this a potent third and final installment (something rare in trilogies). Particularly great are three actors: Christian Bale has always been a great choice for Batman (even if you hate his over-the-top deep growl when donning the bat costume), but in The Dark Knight Rises his portrayal reaches a point of melancholy and sadness that was never reached in the previous two installments. His scenes with the great Michael Caine (as Alfred) boast a specific impressiveness, as the tears well up in his eyes when he finally says "Goodbye". Caine has always filled Alfred with humor and common-sense intelligence, and a little of that is here too, but his regret in this final film is what will gain him award nominations at the end of this year. Then we have the newcomer to this series, Tom Hardy, a brilliant actor who plays the muscly, brawling Bane, a man-beast of a villain who unfortunately had the job of living up to one of the greatest bad-guy performances in all of cinema. Though his motivations are a bit murky, his performance is admirable and full of force.

     Bane enters the city of Gotham intent causing Armageddon with his fists and a nuclear reactor core. He provides most of the action in the film, specifically in two key scenes that are exciting but didn't especially reach the greatness of The Dark Knight. In the first one, he takes over the city's stock exchange, then he and his crew make their getaway on some high-speed motorcycles with hostages strapped to the rear-end. It was good, but nothing that was better than most other summer blockbusters. At least we got out first look at Batman's new vehicle (aptly named "The Bat"), a flying well-armed machine that maybe seemed a bit out of place in this realistic superhero universe. If you've seen any of the trailer's for The Dark Knight Rises, then you've seen the second epic set piece: the destruction of Gotham's football stadium at the opening kickoff of a game. Unfortunately, this entire sequence was spoiled if you had seen the advertisement (some of the football players were from the real-life Pittsburgh Steelers, so also unfortunately, Hines Ward didn't fall in the massive hole on the field).
     But Bane isn't the only new character that provides a spark to this final installment: two new women provide a foil and love interest for Bruce Wayne and Batman. One is Catwoman, Selina Kyle (Anne Hathaway). It's fair to say many were skeptical to how Cat would fit into Nolan's universe, but Hathaway puts enough sass, sarcasm and sexiness into the pick-pocketing character to make it her own. The other is Miranda Tate (Marion Cotillard), a mysterious millionaire with interesting motivations that may save (or be the downfall of) Bruce Wayne's company. Like every woman who plays a major part in these three films, they quickly realize that getting close to Bruce (or Batman) may be far too dangerous to handle. And let us not forget about Blake (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), a young cop on the Gotham force who realizes how powerful the hope that Batman's actions can bring to a folding community. He may play the most important role of all in the end to this trilogy.
     No, The Dark Knight Rises doesn't reach the heights of its predecessor, The Dark Knight. That would have been nearly impossible, an achievement that was almost completely unreachable. It suffers from too many new characters and a few predictable plot points near the end of its run time. It also isn't some grand statement on American culture (as some fan boys would lead you to believe), a prediction of what will happen when the rich keep getting richer and "leave so little for the rest of us," as Selina Kyle states. It's actually something much simpler: the final, entertaining, satisfying, sad, and--ultimately--hopeful end to one of the best big-budget trilogies in American cinema, a story of tortured souls in a treacherous environment who realize that the notion of hope is much more important than one specific costumed superhero.     (B+)

The Not Really Amazing Basically Pointless Spider-Man

     I can't imagine even the biggest super-fans of comic book film adaptations were screaming for this one: there have been three Spiderman films (before this) in the past eleven years, and those grew old faster than Tobey Maguire's whiney acting. By the time the third film of Sam Raimi's trilogy about the web-slinging hero and his love for Mary-Jane Watson hit theaters, the novelty of Spidey's story and the dated special effects left many viewers severing the silky web of love that they once held for the hero. Flash forward to the present day, and Hollywood--in its ever-greedy ways--has deemed it pertinent to reboot one of America's most famous superheros with a new director, fresher actors, but--unfortunately--essentially the same story. It's an entertaining and familiar film, and it's totally competent in every aspect of movie-making, but it feels like an old friend that (although fun to be around) you could do without.
     This is one of those origin stories that have been going around theaters faster than bedbugs spread at a Phish concert. At least Spiderman himself is played by someone a little more dangerous and exciting: Andrew Garfield, in one of his first major roles after his great turn in The Social Network, is usually likable/nerdy/sad (or some combination of the three) and has a bit more edge than Maguire's safer and cornier work. As we have learned in all of the different variations of Spiderman's universe, Peter Parker (Spiderman, obviously) comes to live with his Aunt May and Uncle Ben (Sally Field and Martin Sheen) after his parents disappear mysteriously. Field and Sheen play the role with just enough concern and understanding to be realistic. It's clear to Uncle Ben that Peter is in love with a blond-haired student at his high school, since Peter has her picture plastered on the background of his laptop. This girl is the love interest in this reboot, Gwen Stacy (Emma Stone), and she is plenty more dangerous and sexy to make any viewer forget about Kirsten Dunst's stunted portrayal of Mary-Jane Watson.
    Gwen, like Peter, is a science standout. She's so good she somehow has a job at Oscorp, a huge company that deals with cutting-edge science and is led by Dr. Curt Conners (Rhys Ifans), a right-arm amputee who is looking for the technology to regenerate limbs to help himself and--especially--humankind. He was also Peter's long lost father's coworker. When pushed to the breaking point, Dr. Curt squirts a non-human-tested substance into his vein to try and regain his arm--what he becomes is The Lizard, a creature with super-human strength (and super-human anger) that wreaks havoc throughout the city. His main goal is releasing a gas cloud over the population to also turn them into scaly, slimy, lizard-things (no, not Mischa Barton).

     So begins the second half of The Amazing Spider-Man, and it's all expected, (barely) exciting enough, and entertaining. The cops, led by comedian Denis Leary, are also on the chase, and they provide some mild laughs that are about 1/100th as funny as any of Leary's great stand-up specials. There are minutes upon minutes of Spiderman swinging across skyscrapers, scaffolding and fire escapes, hooting and hollering. Most of those scenes feel like an unwanted deja vu, as we had already seen plenty of that in Raimi's trilogy.
     This new adaptation is directed by Marc Webb, and it's only his second film. His first was the sometimes-charming sometimes-eye-rolling indie romantic comedy 500 Days of Summer. It's an interesting choice, and one that pays off in many aspects of this film: mainly the quieter moments, when Peter is interacting with his aunt and uncle or realizing his first experience of love with Gwen. Webb is completely competent in the web-slinging aspects too--but athough the action set pieces are good, they lack any particular originality or excitement that would make the film rise far above other typical summer comic book blockbusters. It all has a been-there, seen-that feeling that makes one wonder why Marvel would choose to reboot the Spiderman franchise as soon as they did. Oh yeah...it will make hundreds of millions of dollars based on name brand alone. Ultimately, The Amazing Spider-Man is a solid adaptation that is familiar and mostly fun, but--unlike Spidey himself--it's hard to imagine anybody finding it great enough to shoot out some sticky white stuff.     (B-) 

Wes Anderson Hits His Whimsical Peak with Moonrise Kingdom

     At this point in director Wes Anderson's film career, it's very clear that your opinion of his movies are not going to change one way or the other: either you appreciate his ironic and quirky efforts, filled with his signature style, wit and life-size dollhouse sets, or you find his cinematic efforts the creations of a pretentious poser, films directed by a man who is unwilling to alter his technique or stories and is instead stuck in his idiosyncratic ways, never to be released from the casting of Bill Murray or Jason Schwartzman. I fall somewhere in the middle, always enjoying his films but never really loving them, unlike some of my close friends or many critics. After exploring loneliness, the need to escape, and familial tension in Rushmore, The Royal Tenenbaums, and The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, Anderson tried something different, directing a stop-motion animated film, Fantastic Mr. Fox, that turned out to be a funny breath of fresh air. The animated form fit perfectly with Anderson's directing techniques.
     So now, in 2012, Anderson returns to live-action films with the wonderful Moonrise Kingdom. It seems his break into animation sparked a new kind of creativity, because Moonrise is a film that not only contains one his best enclosed worlds (something he was already great at creating), but also a story about young love that rings more true than the rest of his back catalog. The film is set in 1965 on picturesque island off the coast of New England. It focuses on two parts of the island (from watching the film, you might think these characters are its only inhabitants): Suzy (Kara Hayward) lives with her parents (Bill Murray and Frances McDormand) and three younger brothers in a lighthouse called "Summer's End". Her parents are lawyers, and when Suzy starts exhibiting some troubling tendencies, instead of parenting they rely on a book about dealing with a troubled child. Sam (Jared Gilman) is a member of a scout camp led by Ward (Edward Norton). Sam's an outcast who wants to plot his own adventure to put his scouting skills to a real test.
      Sam decides to leave (escape) the scout camp with a great allusion to The Shawshank Redemption. Suzy leaves her dysfunctional family behind too. You see, Sam and Suzy had met the previous summer, plotting their escape from their respective too-many-rules homes. They have plotted a reunion in a desolate field on the island, the start of an adventure that leads them through love, danger, violence, and a natural disaster. They bring along things that are essential to them: Sam, ever the obsessed scout, can pitch a tent (in more ways than one) that would make Bear Grylls growl with jealousy. He has all of the things to survive in the wilderness.  Suzy, on the other hand, has brought a few of her library books, a little kitten, and a record player. Her wardrobe isn't quite suited for wandering through the brush or getting bitten by ticks, either.

     The young lovers follow an Indian trail that leads them to plenty of picturesque places, most notably a secluded beach where each of them first experience the loss of innocence and gaining of maturity. But I'm getting ahead of myself: obviously, Scout Leader Ward and Suzy's parents have launched a search party and contacted the authorities, mainly Capt. Sharp (Bruce Willis, in a nice, charming change-of-pace role for the actor). Even the other scouts, who once picked on the runty Sam, get in on the action of trying to find the young couple. It doesn't give anything away to say that a hurricane is approaching that could wreck the island or grab Suzy and Sam and tear them apart from each other. We learn this within the first few seconds of the film's run time.
     One other thing is also certain within the first few seconds of the film's run time: this is--unquestionably--a Wes Anderson film. All of his usual winks and wit are present almost instantly. But this time, they are coming from his gut and heart instead of just his head. Yes, all of the characters in the film sometimes seem as though  they know they are in a Wes Anderson film, with their sarcasm, oddball humor and quizzical looks. But Sam and Suzy, with their nervous tension and will to break free from their families, provide a solid lightning rod to ground all of the exciting electricity from Moonrise Kingdom, one of the best films so far of 2012.     (A-)
   

Never Netflix This: Chronicle

     Leading up to the devastating Super Bowl that took place this past February, when Rob Gronkowski's knee was as reliable as Triple A showing up at your broken-down car in less than 10 minutes, most of the American public saw plenty of movie previews for a soon-to-be-released film that didn't look like a film at all: in fact, it seemed like a high budget commercial starring douchey teenagers who discover that they have super powers. These characters were so douchey that if you poked them with a needle you would smell vinegar. Unfortunately, these teenage actors star in an actual film, entitled Chronicle, instead of a high concept Progressive Auto Insurance advertisement showing the dangers and damage of using telekinesis on vehicles.
     Chronicle is one of those found-footage feature films that the viewer wishes could be un-found out of their minds. Andrew Detmer (Dane DeHann) takes to videotaping everything in his life ever since his alcoholic father starting throwing more than just words at him. His dad is not what you would consider a "happy" drunk. Andrew's abuse doesn't stop at home: boys (and girls) at school bully him and laugh in his face. He's the type of kid who chose to carry a video camera to shoot film instead of an Uzi to shoot fellow students in the face. Somehow, Andrew makes it to a high-school party, and when his friends, Matt (Alex Russell) and Steve (Michael B. Jordan), discover a circular, mysterious hole in the middle of a grassy field on the property, they convince Andrew to bring his camera down to take a look. What they discover is a glowing UFO-ish type object that causes them to stare and gawk like Kate Upton just untied her bikini and dropped it to the floor.
     The annoying characters find out that this staring has led them to develop special powers: no, not overcoming their boring personalities, but moving objects with their mind. At first, when using these powers, the boys play pranks on unsuspecting citizens--for instance, they make a teddy bear come alive in front of a shrieking girl, build a large Lego tower by concentrating, and--in one incredibly irritating scene--move a car to another parking spot. The amount of strain on the character's face and the camera work is lame and unconvincing: it's akin to pretending to open an automatic door with "The Force" (which is also a helleva lot cooler). There's a scene, once the boys learn how to levitate (and then fly), in the film where the friends play football among the clouds, high above the Earth. It was one time when I wasn't concerned about concussions and football. As in I wish they suffered brain damage and began to show signs of dementia.
     The film turns more dark and disturbing once the friends, specifically Andrew, begin to use the new-found power in a more violent fashion. He's the super anti-hero, causing tailgaters to drive off bridges and bullies to explode blood from their noses. Like the any abused child, Andrew may have a reason to act the way he does. But this is also a woe-is-me tale, with Andrew's friends clearly trying to help Andrew out of his shell, with little to no effect. It's an origin story for the bullied generation, a revenge tale that is derivative of dozens of different and better films (X-Men, Carrie, etc.). There's a scene in the film, not long after the viewer's realize that Andrew has the mental makings of a sociopath, where the angry teen destroys a spider in slow motion with his willpower. This had a similar parallel to my viewing of Chronicle, as I slowly disintegrated and eradicated most of the film from my mind.
   

That's My Boy: An Average Tasting Berger

     Donny Berger, the loudmouth, obnoxious character that Adam Sandler portrays in That's My Boy, is all Boston accent and beer-drinking: a man on a mission to see how many Budweiser's he can drink down his throat and how many breasts he can fondle at the strip club before noon. Donny is also a slightly different character for Sandler lately, who rarely oversteps the PG-13 boundary, probably because of box office earnings--and it shows: the R-rated newest comedy from Happy Madison productions totally tanked in monetary terms this weekend. Does anyone remember how great Adam Sandler was in some of his earlier work? Billy Madison and Happy Gilmore were funny and weird, showcasing a man-child humor with surprising laughs. Although That's My Boy is a step in the correct direction for Sandler (there is nowhere to go but up after Jack and Jill), and you have to admire his persistence in creating and portraying a character with such incredible crass conviction, the film is ultimately just a two hour diversion that would be best enjoyed with a high blood-alcohol content.
      Donny is a guy who is stuck in the past: with a shaggy haircut, shouting the '90's staple "Wassssssssssssssuuupppp!!!" to anyone within fifty feet, he's like an aging rocker whose mind never left the glory days. You always see Mark Wahlberg force his Boston accent in every film he's in. There's no telling if Sandler is forcing his version, as it's usually slurred or screamed due to his incredibly drunken state. "20's my limit", he states, in one of the best lines of the film. You can say that Sandler surely is committed to this role: he never falters, never gives into normalcy, always in a state of semen and beer-filled bliss, masturbating as often as cracking a new beer. Anybody who lived his childhood might end up like this: when Donny was 12, the time in his life when seeing a vagina in Playboy was more important than eating or breathing, his 22-year-old luscious-breasted teacher, Ms. McGarricle (Eva Amurri) seduced him into an affair, causing a pregnancy and eventually a jail sentence (for her). It also causes Donny to become a quasi-celebrity, a Kardashian with a cock who reaches a level of relevance on par with Vanilla Ice (who plays a small, useless role later in the film).
     This sexy teacher eventually gave birth to their son, who Donny named Han Solo (Andy Samberg). Once Han Solo reached a certain age, though, he left home due to Donny's parenting skills (having to drive Donny's drunken body around at a young age, among other reasons). He also picked up a new name, Todd, to not attract unwanted attention about being the fetus of a statutory rape case. Todd falls in love and becomes a hedge(hog)fund manager, and when Donny realizes that he owes over $40,000 dollars to the IRS, he decides to crash his long-lost son's wedding weekend.

     So Donny reenters Todd (Han Solo)'s life, and occasional (not often enough) hilarity ensues at the Cape Cod mansion where the wedding festivities take place. The film follows a typical path and never particularly surprises or excites. Han Solo, who is skeptical of his dad's new-found love, seems to be the only person who can see through Donny's shtick: everyone else loves him, handing him beers and pats on the back at every turn. The film's best sequence is about in the middle of its run time, when Todd brings Donny along to a spa bachelor party filled with massages and cucumber-infused water. Donny doesn't put up with that metro-sexual shit: as sexual jokes and obnoxiousness reach a fever pitch, he brings the group to a strip club for an actual good time. Samberg plays Todd as an uptight people-pleaser, but eventually he starts to succumb to Donny' wild and crazy ways. Maybe Donny, deep inside his thick barrier of beer and self assurance, really has changed his ways and wants to be the father he never was, instead of just looking for a way to pay off the IRS.
     That's My Boy was directed by Sean Anders, the writer of 2010's great comedy, Hot Tub Time Machine. One could conceivably pose a question: what is it about Hot Tub that makes it superior to Adam Sandler's latest effort? For one, Hot Tub is more real. That might seem like a funny statement, since the film is about a group of friends travelling back in time by sitting in a bubbling hot tub and getting wasted. But the characters, with their real life problems, their real life loves and losses, and their real life nostalgia present an entirely plausible group of friends who try and recapture a part of their lives that they wish they could have lived differently--Something anyone can relate to. The humor was less forced, the actors far superior.
     By the end of That's My Boy, before the obvious resolution occurs, the film overstays its welcome. The outcome becomes predictable, and the humor becomes phoned in. I half expected Rob Schneider to pop up and scream, "You can do it!" Waiting for the movie to be over will be a common reaction (especially since it's nearly 2 hours long). At this point in time, Adam Sandler films (at least the films where he doesn't act outside of his comfort zone) have become their own genre, a bumbling, gibberish-speaking, fart-joke filled foray into the nether regions of cinema. That's My Boy doesn't come close to being as horrible as his more recent efforts, as critics and haters would lead you to believe. However, for every joke there's an eye roll, and for every plot twist there's a yawn.     (C+)

Summer's Biggest Sci-Fi Film, Prometheus, Lands with Style and a Shoddy Script

     One could argue (correctly) that Ridley Scott hasn't directed a good film in nearly ten years: Kingdom of Heaven was sluggish, long and slow, the Russell Crowe-starring Robin Hood lacked excitement and inspiration, and A Good Year was a waste of time and a waste of talent. When news broke that Scott--seemingly, in his old age, trying to become inspired by some of his directing back catalogue--was creating a science fiction film that "takes place in the same universe" as his 1979 horror classic, Alien, plenty of people were carefully skeptical and some were downright perturbed. This quasi-prequel, Prometheus, would be Scott's first foray into sci-fi since his other seminal directorial effort, Blade Runner (in 1982). The hype reached a fever pitch once some incredible trailers were beamed onto television sets, the great cast was announced, and viral videos dealing with the Alien mythology caused nerdgasms across the World Wide Web. Could Scott finally produce a film that could compare to some of his early, more brilliant work? In short, the answer is "No". However, even though Prometheus deals with a simplified script (by Damon Lindelof, of ABC's Lost fame), an inkling to try and connect to the Alien films a little too hard, and some uneven pacing, it is still an absolute beauty to behold, a film that wonderfully uses setting, CGI, and 3-D to create a spectacle that your eyes have to see to believe.
     The plot of Prometheus is similar enough to Alien to be compared: the year is 2093, and a crew of workers is awaken from a two-year-long sleep to a distant planet. Some of these characters are important, and some are completely disposable--it doesn't take long to determine which is which. We first see David (Michael Fassbender), an android who acts as the butler of the spacecraft. From the start, Fassbender becomes one of the best parts of Prometheus: his perfectly accurate robot mannerisms and his fascination with humans and their approval provides an interesting perspective on the events of the film. He may or may not have ulterior motives, but one thing is clear: he eventually begins to develop human-like emotions and qualities that become extremely important. Others on the ship: Elizabeth Shaw (Noomi Rapace, of the Swedish version of Dragon Tattoo fame) and Charlie Holloway (Logan Marshall-Green), two fellow archaeologists and lovers who have discovered a star map in prehistoric paintings that may lead to the answer of the meaning of life. Meredith Vickers (Charlize Theron) is their boss, a representative of the company the financed the mission to find the meaning of the star maps. Like in last week's Snow White and the Huntsmen, Theron is icy and unforgiving, reminding everyone to do exactly what she says--or else. Idris Elba (of HBO's The Wire fame) rounds out the (important) cast as the ship's captain, a man with less pretensions and more common sense than most of the crew.
     The ship lands on a huge dome-ish structure on the distant planet. Inside, the crew finds information that could settle the debate of science vs. faith. Human-like aliens have been preserved in this structure, and their DNA matches our own. Bigger Questions arise as Alien-like horror enters the picture. Are these humanoids the creators of the universe? Shaw, with her cross necklace that too-obviously symbolizes her faith, believes that all of the answers of humankind lie in the plight of these found creatures. But before answers are revealed, there are other things that go bump in the night. Though Prometheus has about two scenes that are horrific and totally intense, this is more of a mainstream action movie than Scott's Alien. Guns, flamethrowers, hi-tech gadgets, vehicles, and CGI play a much greater role than the psychological horror that made that 1979 film awesome. There are some grotesque surprises that will turn the heads of more squeamish viewers.

     The faults of Prometheus, unfortunately, lie in the script. It's hard not to take a gander at the faults of the television phenomenon Lost in comparison. For numerous seasons, Damon Lindelof helped form a series that was exciting and unexpected, with every answer given to the viewer becoming a bigger question by the next season. He is obsessed with opposing forces: yin and yang, white and black, faith and reason. By the end of its 6th and final season, the show left this viewer with a bitterness and an eye roll--important questions, questions that I had invested hours watching and thinking about, were never resolved. The same can be said about Prometheus (which, as I stated before, was co-written by Lindelof): when a film that is basically a prequel to Alien leaves you with more questions than answers (and essentially leaves room for more sequels [or prequels, however you look at it]), it hasn't completely done its job. Did God create humans? Did these dead humanoid humans create humans? When alien creatures are bursting from bellies in blood-spurting glory, does it really make a difference? Apparently, it doesn't to the writers of this hugely anticipated film.
     If you go into Prometheus with huge expectations (which I did), you are bound to be a little disappointed. It doesn't change the fact that it's still high above most unoriginal diarrhea that gets shat into cinemas week after week. The visuals alone are worth the price of admission. But it never reaches the height of Scott's directorial efforts that have been immortalized in the history of cinema. Ultimately, that's alright: when Noomi Rapace suits up to kick some alien ass a la Ripley, Michael Fassbender becomes the Fassbot, and ancient creature arise to wreak some acid-spewing havoc, unanswered questions and an average script fade to the back of the mind.     (B)

Snow White and the Huntsman, a Grim Retelling

     During my viewing of Snow White and the Huntsman, the second film in as many months that turns the fairy tale into a modernized visual feast (the first being Mirror Mirror), a simple question arose: do two men have to fawn over Kristen Stewart in every film that she stars in? Now, some of the original versions of the Snow White tale do have the same story, with the Huntsman (Chris Hemsworth, with his Thorish brawn) and the prince (Sam Claflin) both vying for her affection. But this new version, with its incredible and ravishing beauty, seems to be vying for some Twihard dollars. The other problem is the source material: we all now how this story ends, and no matter how much incredible sets, imagery and locations first-time director Rupert Sanders skillfully shows the audience, Snow White and the Huntsman is a beautiful film that lacks surprise and simply has a paucity of important things to say.
     Snow White (Kristen Stewart, who is perfectly fine in the title role) has been locked in the cell of a castle by her murdered father's second wife, the Queen (Charlize Theron). This Queen is consumed by thoughts--every second of every day--about aging and losing her beauty. So she does the only thing that makes sense: essentially sucking the blood out of fair maidens plucked from the local population. This process is is gruesome and frightening, but like Neutrogena it does wonders for her skin. She often asks the mirror on the wall who the hottest chick in Mordor is (the film seems like it takes place in the same universe as The Lord of the Rings saga), kind of equivalent to a wife asking her husband, "Do I look fat?" The mirror usually satiates her ego, but one day, when Snow White has come of age, we realize that White, in all her in-tact-hymen glory, actually is the most beautiful. The Queen must have her beating heart to become forever immortal and young. Theron's performance is definitely one of the highlights of the film, sneering and screaming as much as Queen Cersei on HBO's Game of Thrones.
     It's on this day that Snow White escapes from this tower cell and sets off on a journey to become a woman and defeat the queen. She makes it to the Dark Forest, a sinister and hallucinogenic place that is as dangerous as it is gorgeous. It's here that the Huntsman finds Snow, and--of course at first she does not trust him--they escape further from the castle so Snow can reach her allies. The Dark Forest and a future place they reach, a fairy-land that would make Sookie Stackhouse squirt, are the two showcases for the incredible visual effects in the film. This CGI is top notch: the creatures are amazingly detailed, the flora is colorful and enchanting, and a breathtaking combination of danger or beauty awaits behind every fallen log or flowing stream.

     Soon, our Huntsman and Heroine come across eight dwarfs deep in the forest (yes, eight, so it's clear what has to happen), and they provide the spark the propels the film into it's final and obvious conclusion. These dwarfs are portrayed by some great and funny British actors, but it's sort of offensive if you really think about it: none of them are actual little people, they are just CGI-ed (wonderfully) versions of themselves. Though--I have to admit--it was a bit fun to try and recognize all eight of the actors. There are fight scenes and medieval battles, but none that rival anything that could be considered great (a PG-13 rating sure doesn't help, but it's not like there was going to be a rated R Snow White film). The final siege on the castle is noticeably ho-hum, with the typical swarm of flying arrows and quickly-edited sword fighting with a minuscule amount of blood. The dwarfs play a key role in this overtaking of the queen's forces, providing a little comic relief and little originality.
     It's tough to say how good Snow White and the Huntsman could have actually been. The source material is severely limited, and this film does enough to to at least look pretty incredible. But there's no judging a film based solely on looks: I walked into the film expecting a pretty movie with some cool battles and well-drawn characters. What I got was a mediocre and mild love story that looked incredible but lacked any originality or complexity. If you go into Snow White and the Huntsman expecting it to totally suck, then you will be pleasantly surprised. But if you're like me, and you didn't really want to watch Kristen Stewart bite her lip and decide whether to kiss the Huntsman or cuddle with the prince or watch her try to be a warrior (which is a joke), then watching the film is similar to taking a bite of a rotting apple: bitter and unappetizing.     (C)

Netflix This: Punch-Drunk Love

     Adam Sandler's career path began at a very high water mark--being one of the best parts of SNL (at the time), releasing gut-bustingly hilarious comedy albums (at the time), and putting out a couple of simple films (Billy Madison and Happy Gilmore) that caused thousands of kids to yell at swans, admit it's cool to pee your pants, and want to beat the Hell out of Bob Barker--then it quickly plummeted to the depths of a feces-clogged drain pipe, filling up with more and more excrement year after year after year, and finally culminating in last year's massive cinematic defecation titled Jack and Jill. Yes, there were also a couple of anomalies, a few tasty morsels of corn that broke free from the thick plug: one was Reign Over Me, a film sort-of based around a man's experience with September 11th, a film that showcased Sandler's sad and powerful dramatic performance. The other is Punch-Drunk Love, the (easily) best film that Sandler stars in and one of my favorite films of the 21st century.
     Punch-Drunk Love is not the Sandler film that you grew up with. If you just love his playful banter with Kevin James in I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry, his super crazy hair and attitude in You Don't Mess with the Zohan, or his child-like friendships in Grown Ups, one, you like really shitty movies, and two, it's safe to say you will hate Punch-Drunk Love. Here are the reasons: for one, Love is directed by Paul Thomas Anderson, the director of American classics Boogie Nights, Magnolia and There Will Be Blood. His style and directing prowess is impeccable, causing every scene--even scenes depicting (usually) boring acts of everyday life or two characters chatting about (seemingly) nothing important--to fill up to a breaking point of tension. Every film he directs is literally a work of moving art.
     The plot probably won't interest any fans of Sandler's tepid romantic comedies (like Just Go With It): Barry Egan (Sandler) owns a company that markets and sells different variations of plungers. He takes plungers very seriously (unlike Sandler's real-life agent in regards to his film career). He has seven sisters that are always invading his life and personal space, constantly harassing him about his job and love life. The frustration that this causes occasionally makes Barry rage-filled: he often takes out his anger on inanimate objects like sliding glass doors or public bathroom stalls. He eventually meets Lena (Emily Watson), a woman who somehow finds Barry funny and charming. Before their budding relationship comes into fruition, Barry calls a phone sex line because he lives alone and is lonely. What follows is a quirky drama involving stolen credit card information, henchmen looking to distort money, a showdown with a pimp/mattress store owner played wonderfully by Philip Seymour Hoffman, and a master plan to try and acquire a million frequent flier miles involving a loophole in a Healthy Choice pudding promotion (based upon a true story). If it sounds weird, that's because it is. It's also complex and the work of a film making genius.
     Upon watching Punch-Drunk Love, an easy thing to notice is the film's brilliant color scheme. It can  be seen even in the films theatrical trailer:

Most of the color of the film is shot in the different shades of red, white and blue. Clearly, one can make assumptions and draw conclusions based on this fact: almost all of Barry's life before Lena is shot with blue hues. His apartment, his workplace, and in particular his suit are all shades of blue. Barry is sad: Barry is Blue. Red shows up more sparingly, but it is even more important: Lena (the one happy part of Barry's life once she enters it), is generally wearing the color red. Other objects of red often catch Barry's eye: an arrow pointing in a specific direction, people dressed in red showing Barry the way. It's very cool, and worth looking into if you've seen Punch-Drunk Love and are a fan. Click this sentence to read a good essay on the matter.
     Back in 2002, when this film was released, it was easy to imagine that Punch-Drunk Love might have been the spark needed to light an exciting fire under Sandler, causing him to venture outside of his comfort zone as a real actor who could surprise movie viewers with his aptitude and skill. There were even rumors that he was to star in Tarantino's Inglorious Basterds, but--unfortunately--it clearly didn't happen. He has been stuck on the same path ever since, rarely being actually funny and never being surprising. On the other hand, when one gets paid 20 million dollars to dress up as a woman and speak in gibberish,  one doesn't break free from the money-making formula. Maybe that will change in a few weeks when Sandler's new film, That's My Boy, gets released into cinemas. Maybe I wouldn't hold your breath.

(Punch-Drunk Love is available on Netflix Instant Streaming. Also, see a transfixing new teaser from Paul Thomas Anderson's mysterious new film, The Master, Here)
 

Netflix This: Hell and Back Again

     It's unbelievably easy to forget that men and women of every nationality, color and sexual orientation are coming home from war--even to this day--with deep metaphorical scars that harm the emotional thought process of the brain or real scars that dig deep into flesh, muscle and bone. Luckily, for people sitting in the comfort of their own home who want to know what exactly is happening with the wars or returning soldiers, for every few hundred brave troops there is a brave journalist or filmmaker capturing the humor, patriotism and atrocity that transpires in any war. Just take a look at Dexter Filkins' incredible nonfiction book, The Forever War, or watch some of the wonderful and inspiring (and sometimes sickening) documentaries that have graced our television and theater screens in the past few years: namely No End in Sight and the outstanding Restrepo. Add Hell and Back Again to the list.
     Marine Sgt. Nathan Harris is nearing the end of a 6-month tour in Afghanistan. He's in the way of a sniper bullet that gets fired by the enemy, and it shoots him on the side of his ass. He eloquently states that the bullet blew "half his ass off." Hell and Back Again is one of those documentaries that focuses more on the aftermath of getting brutally wounded in war than the war itself. This isn't a film about a group of hunkered down soldiers trying to survive in a trench in a mountain range in Afghanistan; it's about one man trying to survive physical therapy and a trip to Wal-Mart after leaving the only career that he's ever been good at. The career of killing people.
      To be nice, any chance Nathan gets he shows off his scar to the concerned folk around his neighborhood. The bullet, as one can imagine, had no trouble searing through Nathan's skin, fat, muscle and the bone of his hip socket. From there, it bounced around a little bit, fragmenting a portion of his leg in the process. He spends a lot of time in a motorized wheelchair or on the couch, trying to stretch his injury through therapy until tears slowly fall down his cheeks. Other time is spent with film that was shot during Nathan's deployment. You can tell that Nathan believes in the United States' mission, whether he's crawling across a dangerous field, trying to spot rogue Taliban fighters, or speaking with Afghan elders through a translator.
     The mission, while deployed, is clear. The mission, when he's wounded and at home, is much harder to decipher. His wife Ashley is the type of woman who every soldier hopes to have his corner, a girl who would lovingly fill your pain medication subscriptions and change your diaper at the same time with no fear in her face and only love in her heart. Addiction to painkillers always looms in the viewers mind: how can someone sustain an injury like this and not be reliant on drugs (especially drugs that cause euphoria in high doses). Nathan has to fight much different battles than when he was deployed. He just wants to go back and fight.
     As Hell and Back Again continues, Nathan's situation becomes clearer. He always seemingly has an obsession with guns--cleaning them, loading them, pointing them at things. He always seems ready to aim and take another shot, whether it's towards a burglar in the night or a Taliban fighter in his dreams. Unfortunately, in his new life, there is nobody to shoot dead. There is only his wife, left to deal with his broken state, waiting for the day in which Nathan will overcome his lost love: war.

(Available on Netflix Instant Watch)

Never Netflix This: Meek's Cutoff

     I was actually super excited for Meek's Cutoff. For one, I love modern westerns. Any film that deals with the trials and tribulations of the Old West or prairie life always catches my eye (and attention). I rank Unforgiven, Open Range, Appaloosa, The Proposition and 3:10 to Yuma among some of my favorites of the past 15 years. Meek's Cutoff, which is available to view through Netflix Instant Watch--though I wouldn't waste your time, unless your idea of a good time is watching paint (very) slowly dry--is a recent and low-budget look at a portion of the Oregon Trail journey starring indie-it-girl Michelle Williams.
     Meek's Cutoff is an incredibly realistic look at what this small group of travelers went through as they wandered across an unknown land with unknown danger. Too realistic. The film, with a very small amount of dialogue (not that it's a detriment), shows a band of settlers who are not quite sure if their leader, Stephen Meek, has any clue where he is going. What was supposed to be a two week journey soon turns into five, sort of like going to the DMV to get your licence renewed.
     The group moves across the terrain like old people fucking: slow. Wagons become stuck in the mud, wheels fall off, and threat of Indian attacks always looms largely in the groups' mind. But nothing exciting ever really happens, unless your idea of exciting involves watching people slowly die of dehydration because of dwindling water supply. The men make all of the important decisions, and the women slowly knit their way towards death as their husbands try to decide where to go to find water. Soon they capture a lone Indian. Instead of killing him with knitting needles, the group (the men) decide to keep him alive so he can lead them to the neighborhood swimming hole. Typical questions arise: Is Mr. Indian leading them into a trap? Does Meek have any clue where he is taking the band of survivors? Will this movie ever end so I can play Halo?
     Some people like to say (when a film is shitty), "Wow, look at the cinematography! It's so gosh-darn gorgeous!" And some of the scenery and film angles are quite beautiful. But--unfortunately--that can't help Meek's Cutoff from being an exercise in boredom. There's no payoff: it's just the real experience of some settlers who take the wrong path. Like most anyone's daily life, it's generally not worth getting excited about. Yeah, these unfortunate folks had a rough go of it, but while watching Meek's Cutoff, I felt like I was getting cutoff--at the bar.
   

Marvel's The Avengers, an Expected Summer Spectacle

     News broke today that The Avengers, Marvel's newest film that features all of the superhero fan favorites (at least in the Marvel universe) of the past few years, became the highest-grossing opening weekend film of all time--the first film in the history of theater-going to break the seemingly unattainable barrier of $200 million dollars during its first three days. Like The Hulk breaking his foes into little bits, it smashed box office expectations. It's no huge surprise: the marketing for it has flashed across every type of screen for over a year, reaching a fever pitch throughout the past few weeks. But in film, money doesn't necessarily mean quality. (Does anyone remember Paul Blart: Mall Cop?) Luckily, The Avengers will meet your expectations: it's an occasionally great, always-entertaining summer blockbuster that won't change anyone's mind about superhero films (one way or the other), and it will satiate any geek's hunger until Prometheus lands in June and The Dark Knight Rises flies into cinemas in July.
     By now, most anyone can name the main members of The Avengers. Their stories are separate until an end-the-world plot brings them together at breakneck speed. Tony Stark's Iron Man (Robert Downey Jr.) is still a "billionaire, playboy, philanthropist" who dishes out humorous and sarcastic quips faster than he blazes across the sky. Captain America (Chris Evans) is still dealing with visions and the nostalgia of his past life--he's only at peace when he's serving his country with the utmost honor. Thor (Chris Hemsworth) had returned to his distant planet, but Earth is under his protection so he returns with Shakespearean fervor when the metaphorical shit hits the fan. Bruce Banner (Mark Ruffalo) has been laying low, seemingly a pro at anger management, never letting the green "other guy" enter into Smash Mode. The Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson) is still performing expert martial arts maneuvers in her tight leather suit--don't ask me how the crotch doesn't rip out on that thing. Newcomer Hawkeye (Jeremy Renner) rounds out the pack with some impressive archery skills that would make Katniss Everdeen moan with orgasmic ecstasy.
     These are superheroes with super powers, all with different skill sets that prove useful at convenient times. Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson), the leader of SHIELD, an organization that seemingly stops Earth from being destroyed, brings these large personalities together for one reason: Thor's adopted brother, Loki (Tom Hiddleston), has come to our home planet to steal this thingamajig called the Tesseract, a never-ending source of energy that he wants to use to open a portal to other dimensions or universes (or does it matter?). It's safe to say that what enters through this portal won't be what a military soldier would call a "friendly". Ultimately, they look like monster reptiles that ride easy-to-shoot-down-and-destroy flying spacecrafts. So the Avengers come together to--what else--avenge Loki and his maniacal smile.

     Though the film has some damn impressive battles and gorgeous special effects, much of The Avengers run time is spent examining the tension-filled relationships between our beloved heroes. Their home base is a giant aircraft carrier that can sprout hovercraft wings and fly around and become invisible (don't ask). As one can imagine, personalities clash and insults are thrown and deflected like stray bullets off of Captain America's shield. These folks could learn the old lesson that there is no "I" in "Team". The film is funny and corny, but that's part of the fun: it's hard not to chuckle at Downey Jr.'s never-ending sarcasm, Thor's ancient terminology, and Captain America's unwillingness to participate in the more hurtful and personal banter. Eventually, an event happens that obviously brings The Avenger's close, and it sets up the long and great action-packed finale of the film. They finally learn the lesson that most children know: working together towards a goal is much more efficient. Luckily for the viewer, it's also fun to watch.
     The Avengers is directed by Joss Whedon, the creator of the television version of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and the visual presence in many nerd's nocturnal emissions. He does a great job with the balancing act of showcasing each character's personal journey, humor and power. The problem with the film is that it doesn't surprise: the basic frame of the story has been told in each of the individual Marvel films--the two Iron Man movies, Thor, and the worst of the bunch, Captain America. Introduce the hero. Introduce the villain. Ultimately, save the world. Now that Marvel has upped the ante and brought all of these characters together, will anyone care about the plight of Iron Man or Thor when their individual upcoming sequels are eventually released into theaters? That's a stupid question. Of course they will. Me: I'm looking forward to the next Avengers film, hoping to be surprised.     (B)

Never Netflix This: In Time

A little introduction: throughout the past couple of years writing on this blog, I have noticed that it's quite rare when I write reviews on bad or mediocre movies. But it does make sense. Why would I choose to waste money on a movie ticket or waste valuable Netflix-queue space watching something that I don't really care about? After all, I'm not getting paid to do this. But every now and again, films come along that fall short of expectation. From now on, I will incorporate these films into a new blog series: "Never Netflix This:", an incredibly clever play on my world-famous "Netflix This:". Just a paragraph or two, warning you of the epic failures or barely misses of some of the skidmarks on the face of cinema. Let's start with...

     In Time. I should have known, right? It stars Justin Timberlake. But Justin Timberlake was actually good in The Social Network. Not the kind of good that is serviceable or barely noticable, but the kind of good that actually impressed me. I guess director David Fincher can make anyone look talented. And it's not that J.T. is bad in In Time. He's fine: it's the film that suffers from a lackluster script (and--really--story altogether). It had plenty of potential to be a great modern sci-fi film. You know the overused saying, "Time is money"? Well, time literally is money in In Time. By the year 2161, everyone in humanity stops aging once they hit 25 years old. To live past that age, you have to earn time just as one earns money: working for it, borrowing it, or stealing it. Every human's time remaining is shown on their arm, ticking down to their death.
     Essentially, the wealthy and ultra-rich have no problem staying 25 years old forever: they've got all of the "time" in the world. The poor live in the ghettos, barely getting to their next paycheck before their time runs out. When Timberlake's character, who usually only has one day's worth of time ticking away at his wrist, meets a mysterious stranger at a bar who transfers all of his time to J.T. while he is sleeping (116 years worth of time), J.T. has to decide what to do with more-than-a-lifetime's worth of years. The premise is great, and is ripe with opportunity for awesome sci-fi chase scenes and exciting action set pieces. Unfortunately, that's not what the viewer gets. We get the script that over-explains and simplifies every detail for the viewer and shies away from innovative action intrigue. And that's surprising, considering the director and writer is Andrew Niccol who directed Gattaca, wrote the wonderful The Truman Show, and directed and wrote the entertaining Lord of War. Unfortunately, he fires a blank here: In Time is a film with a promising plot but a disappointing execution.