Thor: The Dark and Average Sequel

     Marvel knows what they're doing: after the success of the Iron Man films and then the gigantic The Avengers, they realize that any fan of their work will shell out a dozen dollars to witness the next spectacle in their different "phases". The problem with this situation is that the company has to keep surprising and satisfying us at every turn, or else the movies start to feel stale. Thor: The Dark World--unfortunately--falls into this category: featuring the powerful titular character and his brother Loki, this sequel to the (amusing) first film falls a bit flat, failing to exceed any expectations and failing to be funny even when it tries to be--a problem the first film didn't have.
     Thor as a film has a much tougher sell than most of the Marvel universe: it's necessary to balance the scenes in Asgard (where Thor is from) and the scenes on Earth, and the symmetry has to be seamless for it to work--unlike Tony Stark in Iron Man, who is much easier to relate to due to his snarky humor and based-in-reality (to an extent) situations. The Dark World jumps all over the place: the nine realms are about to converge, which is a sign of trouble when some Dark Elves (led by Malekith [Christopher Eccleston]) take the opportunity in this rare event to try and take control of a dangerous force to turn the galaxy to darkness.
     What turns out the lights? This mystical floating substance called the "Aether", that when consumed causes the consumer to become incredibly powerful and power-hungry, looking to rid the world of everything beautiful. This is where Thor's love interest from Earth, Jane (Natalie Portman, probably regretting that she has a contract to keep appearing in the sequels), comes into play. Accidentally coming across this substance in some sort of weird inter-dimensional warp thingy, one that allows people to switch back and forth between worlds, she gets fully consumed like a ghost entering a host in a horror movie. Going on a road trip to Asgard after Thor comes to the rescue, the battle for the Aether that's inside of Jane between the Asgardians and the Dark Elves becomes the main focus for the second half of the film.

     One of the main problems with this new incarnation of Thor are the poor attempts at humor. In the first film, Thor's brutish and confused nature when first coming to Earth was charming and funny (like his uttering of "I Need Sustenance!" when eating at a diner). Since that novelty has worn off, and Thor the character is familiar to us now, he's just not too funny anymore. Sure, there are moments that induce chuckling--like when he hangs his trusty hammer on a coat rack--but they are few and far between. And Jane's assistant, Darcy (portrayed by one of the Broke Girls, Kat Dennings), is incredibly annoying at every turn, trying to make us laugh with bad jokes and an irritating nature. That's the script's fault--but her delivery does it no favors. Thor: The Dark World does have some interesting aspects: the story can be interesting and Loki (wonderfully portrayed by Tom Hiddleston again) is always entertaining, and the climax involving a multi-world battle where Thor and his foes switch between worlds through numerous invisible warps is well done and clever. But nothing comes close to the battles in The Avengers.
     And this is Marvel's problem now: because of The Avengers, it feels like every standalone film involving their characters is more of a place holder than an actual event of awesome entertainment. Well, maybe not Iron Man, but the others. Take the trailer for the new Captain America film that enters theaters in March: does it look cool? Maybe. Does it look good? Sure, it has potential. But it doesn't feel like an "event" anymore, and my wallet is starting to get the feeling that Marvel has sucked me into paying for all of their films. And maybe it has: I just wish my return on investment was more than just average.     (C+)

Ender Plays A Decent Game

     Adapting a very popular novel is hard for many reasons, the major one being the old saying, "There's no possible way the movie can be as good as the book." Ender's Game, in particular, has more hurdles than most: its sci-fi setting, its ideas of pushing young children headfirst into battle, its author's (Orson Scott Card) asinine--and very public--views on today's society. So when the film adaptation was announced, my interest was solid yet my expectations were kept in check. There's no possible way the film adaptation could be as good as the beloved book, right? Right. Ender's Game the film version loses something in translation, a thoughtfulness and subtlety that made the book about powerful (but naive) children so potent. But it still succeeds as solid sci-fi enjoyment, a film with great acting by its lead Asa Butterfield and a story that exceeds most other tween-geared entertainment.
     Earth has been attacked by a bug-like Alien race. Years later, after the initial attack that ended in a daring suicide mission by a selfless pilot, the military grooms children into becoming powerful commanders to fend off future alien forces. Rumor has it that the aliens have begun preparing for another battle on their distant planet, so Ender (Butterfield), a 12-year-old with all the right characteristics of a commander, is chosen by Col. Hyrum Graff (Harrison Ford, a gruff military man who is putting all of his hope in young Ender) to figure out a way to squash the buggers.
     Ender becomes Earth's Great Hope as he progresses through Battle School, which consists of different teams playing a zero-gravity version of paintball only with guns that shoot stun lasers instead of exploding balls. It takes a lot of strategy: random blocks float around the room (as obstructions) and teams have different formations and ideas about how to win. One problem with the film version of Ender's Game are these scenes: in the book, these battles were numerous and exciting--but the film only shows a couple, and they never come close to holding the tension that the book's battles have.

    When reading Ender's Game, you form a vision of the character of Ender in your mind (obviously). He might not look like the film version. But there's no doubt that Asa Butterfield is growing into a good actor who can command a scene--anyone that has seen Scorcese's Hugo already knows this. In the film, as he becomes more and more confident, the changes in him are portrayed with skill by Butterfield: whether he's standing up the older, higher ranked characters, forming a friendship with a young squirt named Bean (Aramis Knight), or starting a maybe-more-than-friendship with a fellow cadet named Petra (True Grit's Hailee Steinfeld), he portrays Ender with passion. If you don't enjoy Butterfield as Ender, than it's your own pre-conceived notions that are holding back your enjoyment.
     Orson Scott Card is moronic, with his personal views on homosexuality and science. But there's no doubt that his books have interesting plots that deal with bullying, notions of age and power, empathy about other species (metaphorically, other races). The main problem with the film version is that it quickly glazes over any real thoughts on these issues, and instead focuses on looking good with slick camera work and special effects. I cant imagine filmmakers would ever figure out a way to adapt the second book of the series, Speaker for the Dead--which is short on visual spectacle and filled with complicated issues about colonization. The adaptation of Ender's Game is entertaining and permeated with solid performances, but it's basically a good-looking Cliffnotes version of the book that leaves a little to be desired.     (B)

The Counselor: Cormac McCarthy's First Original Screenplay

     You couldn't have put the pieces together any better: Cormac McCarthy--arguably the greatest living American writer--turns in his first ever screenplay. The story is vintage him, dealing with drug smuggling on the Texas/Mexico border and a group of morally ambiguous characters performing violent actions as often as they wax poetic about the nature of man and life vs. death. Filling the roles of these characters is a group of actors that any cinephile could get excited about: Michael Fassbender, Brad Pitt, Javier Bardem, Cameron Diaz (okay, not her), and Penelope Cruz. Even director Ridley Scott was promising--though lately he hasn't any films that could be considered classics, he had the talent to make The Counselor a slick and sexy thriller. And The Counselor is slick and sexy; unfortunately, it's a lot of other things too: messy, confusing, scattershot, and downright weird.
     Fassbender stars as "Counselor", a lawyer who deals with seedy clients who get in too deep with criminal situations. He represents the type of people that come up to him in restaurants years later and threaten him for not doing a good enough job. Not long after the opening credits, the counselor decides to get involved with a group of gaudy and eccentric characters in a drug-smuggling operation involving the Mexican cartel and a pump truck full of raw sewage. There's a couple, Reiner (Bardem) and Malkina (Diaz), who live an extravagant lifestyle filled with a contemporary mansion, expensive cars and exotic animals. Reiner is a charismatic drug kingpin who's also insecure and would rather not think about consequences than face them head on. Malkina is dangerous in our own right, with ulterior motives and a penchant for using her sexuality to transfix other characters. Soon, once things start going incredibly wrong, the counselor realizes that he in too deep. Far too deep. Brad Pitt shows up as Westray, a mystery man who has dealt with the counselor's employers in the past and gives the counselor advice in verbal puzzles. And Penelope Cruz, as the counselor's fiance, provides the counselor with something to fight for once she inevitably becomes involved.

     The best part of The Counselor is also the worst part about it: Cormac McCarthy's script. The author of a few of the best American novels ever written--Blood Meridian, The Road, The Border Trilogy--creates a weird mess of a plot that jumps around cities and characters, introducing us to some people who play an integral part and others who have the same amount of screen time but don't offer anything useful other than some intellectual dialogue that doesn't pertain to anything specific about the story. A word that some may come up with is "pretentious", though I don't agree with that: Cormac's script is always colorful and interesting, but it eventually grows a little tiresome when you want more of a climax instead of an extended conversation about the nature of man.  If anyone has seen The Sunset Limited, the HBO adaptation of a play that McCarthy wrote, it delves into similar territory--a lot of talking, and not much resolution: better suited for a novel than a major motion picture.
     The cast hams it up with plenty of effort, and The Counselor contains a few scenes that are laugh out load funny (one involving Diaz's character doing a nude split on the windshield of a car) or nerve-wracking (one involving a torture device that has to be one of the worst ways to die ever). In particular, I found Bardem and Diaz to be the most interesting characters: Reiner with his flashy wardrobe and personality but with a naive fright under the surface and Malkina with her smiling maliciousness and utter disregard for whoever she screws or screws over. Director Ridley Scott does a serviceable job that echoes his late brother Tony's work: sleazy, sexy and sometimes all over the damn place.
     Overall, The Counselor is just a bit silly. It doesn't seem realistic, and it doesn't come close to anything that McCarthy has ever written (at least the 8 out 10 novels I've read) in terms of staying power or having a reason to even exist. It has occasional moments of greatness and plenty of WTF moments that make you question why someone didn't edit this film down into more of a tightly-packed thriller. There's barely a bit of character development, and that's a major problem when the film is filled to the brim with potentially interesting characters. I wouldn't go as far as saying that I regret watching it, but The Counselor is too much exposition and not enough excitement.    (C+)

A Different Kind of Cast Away: Captain Phillips

     Tom Hanks is one of those actors who is so good at what he does. Sometimes it barely gets noticed--his every-man charm, goofiness, and likability come off as so natural that he isn't even making an effort. But every now and then he involves himself in a role that can change perceptions about how good he is at his craft. His portrayal in Captain Phillips is one of those roles: showcasing a bare-it-all emotional climax and a subdued but anxious performance, Hanks adds another good film to his resume, a film that is exciting and taut with tension but is ultimately pretty standard and a bit overlong. It's like Zero Dark Thirty without the backroom dealings and ambiguity, and it's a lesser film to director Paul Greengrass' tear-jerkingly-intense similar film, the true-life story United 93.
     Captain Phillips' based-on-reality plot is something that Hollywood would have loved to dream up: the fact that it's real only adds to the scariness of its situation. Hanks is the titular character, the captain of the American container ship MV Maersk Alabama. His small crew respects him due to his diligence and no-nonsense attitude about the dangers and possibilities of what can go wrong at sea (especially near the Horn of Africa). He's the type of Captain that you'd want on your ship--stern and trustworthy. Not long after the ship enters Somali pirate territory, a nerve-wracking blip begins to ping on the ship's radar. The two little boats with their choking outboard motors seem like no match for the massive ship and its powerful fire hoses, but a lack of sufficient weaponry and a small crew allow a group of four armed pirates to jump aboard.
     Led by a man named Muse, the group makes demands that set off a chain reaction of intense events. Muse is portrayed by Barkhad Abdi, and he's the Somali man that the film focuses most on. But he's not a true villain: he seemingly has some compassion and doesn't seem interested in murdering any of the crew. He just wants the treasure of the cargo to make his bosses happy back home. When the situation escalates into a long sequence involving a lifeboat and the ever-present involvement of the United States Navy, Muse seems to realize that he's a man without choices: he's torn between realizing his errors and having no other options. Abdi--an acting newcomer--does a solid job of internalizing the character's struggles.

     Though Captain Phillips--with a run time of over two hours--has trouble sustaining its intensity through the long lifeboat portion, its climax and Hanks' haunting final moments are sure to stick with the viewer for a few days afterward. Maybe not since the other ocean-based film Cast Away has Hanks had such a powerful performance. But Phillips, as a whole, didn't affect me as much as another Paul Greengrass film, United 93. They're surely very similar: they both involve hijackers, men set in their convictions (whether its in the name of money or in the name of religion), and both employ hand-held camera techniques (a Greengrass staple) that add to the tension and confusion of the more energetic scenes. So what is Phillips missing? For one, since both films are based on true stories, we know the outcome. One could type a few words into Google and find out how the Captain's story ends. United 93, on the other hand, because we know the plane crashes into an empty field, is that much more tragic and heroic. The few passengers on the plane ultimately saved hundreds more because of their selflessness. Captain Phillips is more about the flexing of military muscle, and while that's surely entertaining, a few Somali's stranded at sea are no match for skydiving Seals and high-tech sniper rifles. It's lacks the human element that 93 employs so awesomely.
     Captain Phillips is an above-average time at your local cinema. But it sometimes feels more like a procedural than a full on exciting ride. There's nothing too surprising about the film; what you expect to happen...happens. Maybe it had too much to do with my thoughts on other films: the similar but superior United 93, the recent technical brilliance of Gravity, the recent beauty of Prisoners, the recent violent style of You're Next. But Captain Phillips, despite Tom Hanks' great performance and plenty of entertainment, treads water a little bit too much and fails to reach true greatness.    (B)

Gravity: In Space, No One Can Hear You Have a Panic Attack

     Seeing Gravity in IMAX 3D is the closest the majority of us will ever get to being up in space, hundreds of miles above the Earth. It's also one of the most stressful movie experiences I've ever had the pleasure (or pain) of being a part of: between of all of the spinning, breathing trouble and panic that Sandra Bullock's character experiences, I felt like I was 12 years old again, pinned to the wall of the Gravitron at the Blue Hill Fair. There's no question that director Alfonso Cuaron has created one of the most technically brilliant spectacles--really, see it in IMAX 3D or don't bother seeing it at all--of movie-making maybe ever, and it's a testament to his skill that a film about two people floating in space is intense for its entire 90 minute run time. But after all of the pomp and brilliant execution of special effects and 3D, there's still something a little bit missing that prevents Gravity from becoming an instant classic.
     The movie wastes absolutely zero time before it makes your blood pressure rise: Medical Engineer Ryan Stone (Sandra Bullock) and astronaut Matt Kowalski (George Clooney) are servicing the Hubble Telescope, and "Houston" comes onto the radio--Ed Harris' voice, in a nice nod to Apollo 13--to warn the crew that debris from a Russian Satellite have started a chain reaction of faster-than-a-bullet metal chunks that threaten to damage their mission and shuttle. And then: Boom. It happens--hundreds of thousands of deadly shards rip apart their ship, and both characters are rolling and floating in free space with dwindling oxygen and a twirling loss of direction.
     There are no more plot points to delve into: just picture every worst case scenario for Bullock's character at nearly every turn, and you're almost there. In a film such as this, a film that focuses on (mostly) one character, it's generally hard to relate without some back story or flashbacks. But Gravity foregoes any sort of character development and focuses on the incredible visuals. Sure, we get a few introspective talking-to-herself scenes about Bullock and a deceased family member, but they're the worst parts of Gravity. And that's not to take anything away from Bullock's performance in the film--it is surely good.  But I'm skeptical that it's one of the best portrayals of the year. Anyone can breath really heavily (like me, sitting in the theater watching the movie). Clooney is charming and assured, as always. But the real star of the film is the terror and loneliness of space.

     Gravity is one of those films that comes along every couple of years that truly advances the technology of special effects and computer-generated imagery. The 3D--something I avoid nowadays--even works perfectly with the zero-gravity objects and floating humans fading in and out of the various shots. A scene involving sparks and fire was especially incredible. When Matt and Ryan are blown from their ship, you are out there with them, in the great unknown, instead of just watching on a screen. Cuaron is an expert at integrating you--the viewer--directly into the scenes. Just take a look at 2006's Children of Men, his most recent film before Gravity: the long tracking shots, the beautiful dystopian visuals, the incredibly intense you-feel-there scenes. He continues his dominance of directing intensity with Gravity. Another shine of excellence: the sound, editing, and score. Since the film takes place in the vacuum of space, explosions and the deadly debris field don't make noise for our characters, so the music plays an intregal role in upping the tension. And when Bullock enters different areas, the clashing of sound rather than silence is a shock to your senses.
     Many themes run through Gravity, themes that have been explored in cinema many times before: trying to survive in the face of death, the randomness of life, the psychological danger of isolation. And these themes--though never heavily focused on--work well with Cuaron's direction. Though Gravity on the whole seems like one long tracking shot, Cuaron actually seamlessly interweaves POV angles from inside Ryan's helmet to outside shots showing the perils of her situation. It's effective. One could go on and on about the visuals in Gravity: it feels like this is the future of movie-making in the ever-growing computer-based technology age. One could also argue how realistic all of the science stuff is, but it's not really the point. This movie is made to entertain, not be a Space 101 class. And it does entertain: Gravity is one of the greatest technological achievements in modern movie-making, and one that could have reached perfection had the characters mattered more and the script be less typical.     (B+)

Amazing Acting and Cinematography Propels Prisoners to Greatness

     Prisoners is a film that is disturbing the best possible fashion. It also raises an interesting question (and one that's been raised in cinema hundreds of times before, but rarely this good): if your young daughter was kidnapped, how far would you go to bring the abductor to justice? Torture? Murder? This question permeates throughout the entire run time of Prisoners--It's dark, and there is never an easy answer. It helps that the film is incredibly beautiful in the bleakest way. In my crowd, we have a little joke about crappy movies: you can almost always say, "Well, the cinematography is so beautiful!"--basically looking on the bright side of a boring film or poorly-written script. But Prisoners is visually stunning in the best sense: masterfully directed by French Canadian director Dennis Villeneuve, every shot and every scene is perfectly filmed (it helps having cinematographer Roger Deakins, one of the best around). And though it tries a bit too hard to surprise near the end, the two wonderful performances by Hugh Jackman and Jake Gyllenhaal buoy the film enough so it never sinks under its own heavy weight.
     At a length of nearly 2 hours and 40 minutes, Prisoners really puts you through the wringer in terms of emotional depth. And like most films that involve a crime investigation with exciting reveals and shocking acts of rage, it's best to know as little as possible. So here are just the basics: Hugh Jackman portrays Keller Dover, a man of exceptional Christian values who would be right at home on an episode of Doomsday Preppers--his basement is stocked full of supplies--food, ammunition, propane, batteries--one would need in an economic collapse. His family (wife, teenage son, young daughter) goes to a friend's family (wife, teenage daughter, young daughter) for Thanksgiving, and the two younger girls go out to play after the meal. Hours later, they are nowhere to be seen.
     A phone rings. A detective pauses his lonesome Thanksgiving meal at a Chinese restaurant (typical movie detective, obsessed with his job) and answers. He gets the lead in the investigation of the missing girls. It's Jake Gyllenhaal, and he portrays Detective Loki, a young and determined policeman with a perfect record of solving cases. He's obsessed with his job, and constantly looks determined due to a nervous blinking-of-the-eyes tic. His first tip takes him to an RV that was seen near the scene of the crime. The driver turns out to be Alex (Paul Dano, who was great in There Will be Blood), a young man with the IQ of a 10-year-old (but somehow has a driver's license). After intentionally ramming the car into a tree, Alex gets arrested as a key player in the investigation.
     Don't worry: this all happens early on in Prisoners, a film that firmly plants you on the edge of your seat for over two hours. The acting is incredibly top-notch, particularly the two male leads in Jackman and Gyllenhaal. Jackman's Keller is a man that has always been prepared for everything, so when his daughter is taken, he has a powerless feeling that has (so-far) been unheard of in his life. Jackman has some incredible scenes: it's a testament to his acting ability that he can portray anger and not remind you of Wolverine. But Gyllenhaal is even better: he's in a bit of a thankless role--these types of detectives always get pigeon-holed into specific character traits. But Jake G. rises above the cliched norm, surprising the viewer with his intensity and tenacious smarts about the nature of man. And to a lesser extent, Paul Dano is great in his limited time.

     The stars behind the scenes are just as impressive. Dennis Villeneuve (who directed the Oscar-nominated foreign film, Incendies) makes his English-language debut with Prisoners, and it's a complex work that leaves you thinking long after the lights flash on once the credits roll. There are plenty of surprises to be found--some subtle and some a tad too convenient. But they all have lasting power due to the direction that doesn't allow you to look away. And Deakins (who has worked on some of the better cinematic experiences of the last 25 years) saturates every camera shot with a wet darkness and incredible lighting choices that are each little works of art. A rainy parking lot dimly-lit by gas station lights, a candlelight vigil with flashes of flame, a collage of red and blue police lights mixed with snow--this is a master at the top of his game.
     Prisoners is a scary film. Not like a horror movie, where the scares are meant to jump you out of your seat. But scary because it puts you in the position of a father who will go to any extreme to find his daughter alive. Keller realizes (and the viewer does too, considering all of the true-crime television shows plastered across the cable networks) that with every hour that passes, the chances of finding the young girls alive dwindle and shrink. This isn't a normal revenge film, where the father goes on a killing spree the entire time to save his offspring. It's slower and more subtle, and because of that, Prisoners focuses much more on ambiguity and doubt than on bloodshed.     (A)

You're Next: A Scary Good End to Summer

     I'm a bit of a sucker for home invasion horror movies. There's something about the sanctity and safety of one's home being molested by an outside force that ups the tension and horribleness of normal horror films. It also provides a great set-up, as the people living in the home usually can gain advantage by having memorized the secret topography of the different rooms, stairways and hidden weapons. It's one of the reasons why I enjoyed The Purge (out earlier this year), a film that threw some interesting ideas into the sub-genre but ultimately failed to live up to its own expectations. But You're Next, a new low-budget film that made lots of noise at last year's Tornoto International Film Festival, doesn't step into the same traps: blending family tension with intense intruder horror, You're Next is a great way to end the summer movie season--in a brutal, funny and stylistic way.
     Twenty minutes into the film, it feels a little bit been-there-done-that. A couple has sex. The woman (topless, of course), goes into the kitchen and grabs a drink. The man is lathering up in the shower. Soon she notices something outside the window. You know what happens next. But flash to some new characters, and it becomes more intriguing: Paul and Aubrey are a middle-aged couple that are traveling to their massive mansion out in the Missouri woods to celebrate their 35th wedding anniversary. The first evening, their son Crispian arrives, who recently began dating an Australian former student of his named Mary who is meeting the parents for the first time. And by the next day, the rest of the fam has returned (two more sons and a daughter), and it's soon very clear to see that tension, bickering and condescension is this family's language. Lots of brotherly dick-measuring (not literally, that would be strange) occurs, and when the entire family (and their significant others) sit down at the gigantic dinner table, the nervousness reaches a fever pitch. Then a crossbow arrow shatters through the dining room window.

     From that moment on, You're Next is a fast-paced blending of style, plot twists, ultra-violence, and a horror-movie character that is incredibly fun to root for. These intruders--nobody knows how many at the start--wear freaky masks of farm animals that add an odd surrealistic nature to the proceedings. But that doesn't stop you from being horrified when they start taking out the bickering brood one-by-one. It actually helps. The nice thing about You're Next is that in injects plenty of humor between the Thwacks of an axe: it's not straight-up horror parody or overly meta, like the Scream films or Cabin in the Woods, but it's self aware enough to know where not to misstep into too familiar territory.
     You're Next is not without problems. But what horror movie isn't? Much of the acting, except for a select few of the less-disposable characters, leaves something to be desired. But the filmmakers definitely made a sound decision to cast essential nobodies in most of the roles. The ending was also one plot twist too many. But this is a minor complaint, because the 85 minutes of film that proceeded it was so good at slicing through expectations that it doesn't particularly matter. You're Next isn't for audiences that shy away from gore--many of the killings are twisted and sick. But they provide satisfaction for viewers in various ways, instead of just existing to sicken people (I'm looking at you, Saw). The film's a jolt of electricity for a getting-tired genre, and because of its short run time, You're Next packs so much excitement into its 95 minutes to become one of the more entertaining films of 2013.     (A-)

A Written Word Review: Too Bright to Hear Too Loud to See

     Juliann Garey's debut novel, Too Bright to Hear Too Loud to See, is one of those books that sometimes painful to read. Not painful because it's poorly written (because it definitely isn't) or painful because the plot isn't good (because it definitely is), but painful because of the all-encompassing and unflinching look at mental illness (in particular, bi-polar disorder) and the ramifications of letting it go unchecked for far too long. There have been plenty of popular stories in Hollywood and in books lately about different mental illnesses, but Garey's novel is sad, surprising, and super.
      The book's star is Greyson Todd, a Hollywood studio agent that has managed to barely hide his disorder from friends--and to a lesser extent, family--until one day when he just decides to leave his wife and daughter and go on a world-spanning pilgrimage in search of something. What that something is is the main part of Greyson's journey. But like bi-polar disorder itself, the novel moves and switches gears at breakneck speeds, zooming between decades, memories, the present day and electro-shock treatments in connecting ways.
     It can be a bit jarring at first: the beginning of most chapters is a new time and place in Greyson's life. But after only a paragraph or two, Garey sucks you into the new location with expert description and Greyson's troubled personality. Obviously, the real star of Too Bright to Hear is the incredibly realistic depictions of mental illness and how that illness can completely encompass a human being through mood swings, depression, panic attacks and manic episodes. But the key is Garey's expertise in making the subject matter completely relatable: now matter how far Greyson falls off of the deep end, you feel for him, and it's impossible to not imagine yourself in his position, with an illness that completely envelops him like a storm cloud.
     It's such a strong debut novel, but that makes sense because Garey herself has dealt with bi-polar disorder along with numerous members of blood relatives. She was quoted in Los Angeles Magazine as saying that she's had "five suicides in two generations" of her family. The depictions of some of the more manic episodes in the book are incredibly well-done, delving deep inside Greyson's brain, experiencing every heightened sense and nonsensical thought right alongside him. And that's the true accomplishment of Too Bright to Hear Too Loud to See: it makes an illness that is mainly misunderstood become something fully experienced instead of frowned upon.

Waiting 5 Years for The World's End

     Back in 2004, director Edgar Wright released a lower-budget film starring then-unknowns (to American audiences, anyway, unless they had seen the British comedy Spaced) Simon Pegg and Nick Frost about two down-on-their-luck Man Children who get thrown into the middle of a zombie invasion. That film--Shaun of the Dead--was utterly brilliant, filled with lightning-fast and dense levels of jokes and a perfect combination of parody and homage. It's one of my favorite comedies of all time. The three followed that up with 2007's Hot Fuzz, another hilarious creation that did to buddy-cop movies what Shaun did to flesh-eating zombies ones. But this was always going to be a trilogy of like-minded cinema--dubbed the Three Flavours Cornetto--so it was no surprise to their fans when The World's End was announced: Wright would again direct, Pegg and Frost would star, and the trio would be taking on another story of men who have stalled in their growing up--this time with a science-fiction flair.
     But now the viewer has a dilemma: upon watching The World's End, does a huge fan of the cast and director's previous work (me), especially after waiting patiently for over five years, judge the film on its own merits, or as the culmination of one of the best comedy "trilogies" in my lifetime. Because there is no doubt in my mind: The World's End is not as good as Shaun of the Dead or Hot Fuzz. Or as good as Wright's separate directing effort, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World. Or as good as Wright's writing partner Joe Cornish's Attack the Block. But if I could take a time machine back to the minute before the lights in the theater slowly dimmed, and then scrub my mind of all expectation and pre-conceived notions and then enjoy the movie as a completely singular experience, The World's End would be really good comedy. But like the robots in the film, I'm controlled. Controlled by this critical voice inside of me, begging to be let out through the words that I'm typing: the final Cornetto chapter is fun and often funny (this time more smiles than outright laughs), featuring a middle portion that is very stellar, but it ultimately becomes a bit repetitive and features a final third (especially the climax) that lacks the grounded-in-reality feeling that anchored the human aspect of Shaun and Fuzz that made those two films so hilarious and heartfelt.
     Okay: I'm finished talking about Shaun and Fuzz. But it had to be done. Pegg stars as Gary, and this time his character has much bigger problems than just losing his girlfriend and low-paying job. He's an alcoholic, and a night nearly twenty years in his past still haunts him: that's the evening when he and his four best mates tried to finish "The Golden Mile", a pub crawl featuring twelve different bars. One pint at each. So he comes up with a great idea: a getting-the-band-back-together style reunion, corralling the old friends (who are almost 40 years old now) to relive the "best night of his life". It isn't easy. Gary is a major dickhead obsessed with his own nostalgia about the good ol' days. His character is borderline unlikable, but the film's set-up provides him with a major shot at redemption.

     It takes some work, but Gary eventually gets his buddies to commit. Great British actors Paddy Considine, Eddie Marsan, and Martin Freeman portray three of them, but most notably Nick Frost portrays Andy, a man with a successful career and whose life was completely altered by Gary and the pub crawl back when they were young blokes. All the characters are treading mid-life water in one way or another: a boring marriage, a stalling career, a fixation on a long lost love. But other than Frost's Andy, none of them noticeably stand out. But this part of the film is where The World's End does stand out: like all trademark Wright, the jokes are fast moving and interplay between Pegg and Frost is great, as usual. And the 4 friends' growing dissent about Gary and the sadness about his life is intriguing and worthwhile. However, it's soon clear that the town of Newton Haven, where pub crawl takes place, is not like it used to be. (SPOILER ALERT) Have you ever been back to a place, and you get that feeling that everything is the same but everything is different? It's like that, except nearly everyone you can see has turned into or is being controlled by robot aliens from outer space.
     The set-up is vintage Wright: he loves taking characters with basic human problems and throwing them into a frenetic and beer-fueled barrage of surprise violence and wry humor. Gary goes into the loo to take a wee, and he gets into an altercation with a teenager who turns out to have super-human strength and blue liquid for blood. This fight turns into an all-out brawl with all of the characters and a number of robots. It was really fun and surprising, finishing with signature Nick Frost flourish. The action is really clear and choreographed, and doesn't rely on quick-cut editing to seem fast and confusing. And it's here, just after midway through the film, that The World's End peaks. The rest is similar to what happens after one too many beers: a little tiresome, a little sappy, and some things just don't make a whole lot of sense.
   You could run it through the metaphor machine: the robots are what they are becoming, held down by their tired lives. The town of Newton Haven is Home once Home isn't where you live anymore. But it doesn't delve too far into these ponderings, instead focusing on squishing robots heads and one-liners that are amusing but rarely hilarious. Gary's mission--above all else--is to finish the pub crawl even among the spurts of blue blood, and even with leaving the rest of his friends stranded yet again. Sometimes The World's End feels like it was fueled more by crystal meth than by alcohol, with Wright switching from tearful confessions to robot chase scenes to buddy love within a few seconds of each other. It's scattershot, and much less focused than his previous efforts, but it's still enjoyable.
     The ending is particularly what sealed the deal for me: it takes a few too many left turns that go too far over-the-top and take away from what some of the best aspects of The World's End are--the friendships, the nostalgia, the focus on Gary's alcoholism. The best sci-fi movies of recent years are the ones that live and thrive within their own world with basic human problems and solutions, instead of relying on last minute reveals and exposition. The World's End--at the end--just takes it further than it needs to go. The reason that the three films of Wright's career with Pegg and Frost are dubbed the Three Flavours Cornetto is because each film--like the famous three-flavored ice cream treat--is connected and part of the same overall package, similar to America's Neapolitan brand. But like a container of Neapolitan, there are only two flavors that I love. The other is good...but it just doesn't compare.     (B)

Netflix This: Mud

     You may remember the preview a few months back: it's that one where Matthew McConaughey looks really grimy and there's a dilapidated boat wedged dozens of feet up a group of trees in a remote forest. But it would be a shame to write Mud off as just another average film starring McConaughey--it's much more than that. Written and directed by Jeff Nichols, who has created two interesting and original American films (2007's Shotgun Stories and 2011's Take Shelter [both starring Michael Shannon, of Boardwalk Empire fame]) already, Mud made its rounds on the film festival circuit in 2012 and had a limited theatrical release earlier this year. A southern tale about two boys coming of age and coming to realizations about life, love and death, Mud is an enjoyable film for just about anyone, a movie that's heartwarming and charming that induces smiles instead of eye rolls.
     A part of Mud's success is due to McConaughey's solid performance. An actor who used to take any romantic comedy role that made men look like fools and an actor that never explored outside of his range, Matt is having somewhat of a moment: 2011 showed that he could thrill and be freaky in The Lincoln Lawyer and the weird-but-watchable Killer Joe, in 2012 we witnessed his snake-like character Dallas in the great Magic Mike, and later this year he portrays an AIDS patient in The Dallas Buyer's Club, fully invested with a 38-pound weight loss. His performance as the titular character in Mud shows that he can transfix an audience with mysterious motives and a thrilling intensity, enchanting us into caring about this southern fairy-tale.
     The plot is all modern-day Mark Twain, focusing on two boys with stressed family lives who like to explore the swamps and bayous of the Mississippi River. Upon sneaking around a seemingly-uninhabited island, they find a boat hanging on the limbs of some tall trees. They climb up and soon realize--by discovering cans of food and porno magazines--that a man has been hiding (or living) inside of the boat. As the boys slowly get to know this island-dweller, they realize (especially Ellis, portrayed by Tye Sheridan in a breakout role) that the man isn't so different from them. He's in love with a girl, Juniper (Reese Witherspoon, who doesn't do too much of note), and he's hiding on the island, on the run from the law, waiting for her to meet him so they can sail off into the sunset. Unfortunately for Mud, a murder investigation and a group of thugs trying to track him down throw a wrench into reuniting with "the one that got away". Mud's a southern mystery with a thrilling finale that really hits home due to the film's flood-like slow build.
      The acting is great, that's been established. Especially McConaughey and Sheridan as one of the boys. Fan's of Deadwood may recognize Ellis's dad, Senior--it's Ray McKinnon, the too-early-cancelled show's preacher. He's good too.  Even Micheal Shannon shows up as Galen, the other boy's uncle. But the real star is what director Jeff Nichols can do with a character-driven story. He's got an eye for beautiful imagery, and the southern setting gives him a plethora of picturesque scenes to work with: the bubbling water behind a boat, the setting sun over the Mississippi river, the swaying trees in a light breeze. It makes you feel like you're there, instead of just watching. It cements Jeff Nichols into the list of great American filmmakers.
     Mud walks a very fine line between being heartfelt and a little too saccharine, but luckily that line is very rarely crossed. The story of adolescence, boys on the brink of becoming men, and men who still haven't given up on the notions of boyhood love, is one that anybody can find interesting and watchable. Add a crime story that's unpredictable and a violent climax, and Mud becomes one of the better films of 2013, a year that needs far more films like this and far less than what we're seeing most every week in the local cinema.

Matt Damon, Leader of Occupy Elysium

     Back in 2009, director Neil Blomkamp burst on the scene like one of the bodies that he is so good at exploding into mush with District 9, one of my favorite films of that year and a wonderfully original sci-fi ride. Starring another newbie, Sharlto Copley, the film was filled with a great blend of unique action and pertinent social commentary that made you think as often as it made you squirm. Needless to say, I was excited for Elysium, Blomkamp's newest sci-fi creation (and only second film total). Starring Matt Damon at his most ripped and badass, Elysium is still a solid ride, and it showcases two important points: Blomkamp is a director that is sure to please audiences for years to come, and the film--though never reaching the surprising heights of District 9--is a sometimes-corny-sometimes-exciting futuristic actioneer that does just enough to satiate the hunger of summer moviegoers looking for something a little bit different.
     Matt Damon is very good in Elysium, and he's really showing his range in 2013 (just take a look at HBO's Behind the Candelabra). Portraying Max, an ex-con factory worker living on a ravaged and derelict-ridden Earth, he holds the screen better than any action star. Sure, the film is set in the year 2154, seemingly very far into the future, but the more realistic visions of Elysium seem merely decades away. A dilapidated shithole, this future Los Angeles is desert-like and overpopulated, with criminals and a militarized robot police force controlling the streets. The human population feels almost hopeless (a particularly amusing scene with Max and his parole officer comes to mind). Almost, because of a glimmer not too far above the Earth's atmosphere.
     You see, the 1% ditched Earth for greener pastures, the Halo-esque space station called Elysium, with its luxurious McMansions, gorgeous eco-system, and fake-breasted bikini-clad women who sip martinis and speak in French. Particularly of note are most of the homes up on the planet-esque space station: most are equipped with Med-Pods, futuristic MRI machines that can cure any illness within a few seconds. Testicular cancer? Zap, it's gone. Broken bones? Poof, they are mended. There's one catch: you have to be a citizen of Elysium to use one of these machines--it reads a sort-of-barcode on users' wrists before they lay down on top of the slick white pad.

     This wouldn't be an exciting science fiction film, filled with powerful gun fights and connections with our own society if we didn't have a clash between the mega-rich of Elysium and the down-trodden earthlings living in complete squalor. In walks Max, who as a child (with his semi-girlfriend, Frey) dreamed of one day living in the peace of the outer colony. He eventually has a really bad day at work. Not like one of us, where if the coffee is warm instead of hot it can ruin a whole morning. Max accidentally gets caught in a chamber at the factory and takes a lethal dose of radiation. He is given five days to live by an emotionless robot. The owner of the factory, John Carlyle (who also has connections to the most powerful people on Elysium) couldn't care less. So Max only has one choice: hook up with Spider (Wagner Moura), a smuggler, and Julio (Diego Luna), a trusted friend, and steal a ride to Elysium to get to a med pod.
      But Getting up there isn't easy: Jodie Foster portrays the bitchy and dangerous Secretary Jessica Delacourt, who uses lethal force to prevent unauthorized access to Elysium and has some very important plans of her own. Max also is pretty weak since the workplace incident, so Spider hooks him up with a spider-esque Eco-skeleton that makes Max nearly as much machine as man. His old love interest, Frey (Alice Braga) also adds some tension to the proceedings--there's nothing like an action hero whose love interest is in peril. Her daughter having Leukemia poses a roadblock too. Can Max get up to Elysium to save himself? Or can he do even more than that, saving--dare I say?--the fate of planet Earth?
      Good set-up, but the action is hit-or-miss. Sharlto Copley is the most villainous character in the film, portraying Kruger, one of Secretary Delacourt's secret agents left on Earth. He sure does relish the opportunity, but most of his lines were kinda corny, the equivalent of consistently saying "Come at me, Bro!" every time he's near Damon's character. The action's filmed much less impressively than District 9, too. It constantly relies on slow-motion (tolerable) and occasionally delves into super quick-cut editing, the kind where you can't tell who is landing what punch within the confusing mish-mash (intolerable). Still: the charisma of Damon, Copley, and the cool gadgets that explode bodies into pink mist and chunks make it just satisfying enough.
      Damon does his best. He's very watchable. But Elysium can be a bit heavy-handed at times (I'm hesitant to use that term but it definitely fits here). The notions of the lack of health-care for many citizens and the constant battle between the 1%-99% are obviously relevant, but Elysium doesn't delve quite far enough to make those notions have any lasting impact. The ending--in particular--was pretty predictable and cheesy. Ultimately, it doesn't really matter: Near the end of summer movie season, we've seen so much garbage pass through the cinemas that any attempt at something pertinent and exciting is admirable--I just wish it had been a little more pertinent...and a little more exciting.     (B)

The Wolverine: Iron Man Logan

     Though X-Men Origins: Wolverine is known as one of the worst comic book films of recent memory, full of cliches and a plot that was predictable and a little tiresome, it was still far from terrible. And that's for one main reason: Hugh Jackman's portrayal as the character with razor-sharp claws. Jackman is one of those actors that is always watchable--his intensity, humor, and bursting-with-muscle-biceps cause both men and women to swoon and whoop with pleasure. So sure, viewers were ready for more. Only four years after his own origin story, we get another Wolverine film, one that brings in a new director and a fresher setting (Japan) to gash some life into a character that was (barely) growing a little stale. They mostly succeeded: although The Wolverine feels more like a side story instead of a brand new film and the final act succumbs to typical superhero-film-style overload, it's a fun time at the movies featuring Jackman at his sharpest and a bevy of solid slower character scenes and exciting action.
    When The Wolverine was first announced, the studio and Jackman wanted a fresher director that would inject some originality and innovation into the superhero franchise. So they signed on Darren Aronofsky, who worked with Jackman on The Fountain and has created some incredibly memorable modern cinema: Pi, Requiem for a Dream, The Wrestler, and Black Swan. Unfortunately, it didn't pan out--Aronofsky wasn't willing to be away for his family the nearly-year-long shoot in Japan. In walked director James Mangold, whose wide array of films (Walk the Line, 3:10 to Yuma) impressed the studio.
      The Wolverine is based upon one of the more cherished stories involving Wolverine, Frank Miller's comic book arc from way back in 1982. It's not exactly what you'd expect: by focusing on Logan's constant inner battle about his own immortality and his persistent nightmares about losing his one true love, this Wolverine (though filled with plenty of raw battles) is a more thoughtful affair. At the start, Wolverine is imprisoned in a Japanese POW camp just before an atom bomb drops. When the explosion happens, he saves a soldier about the get annihilated by taking the brunt of the blast. The soldier--foreshadowing many events to come in the film--then witnesses Logan's incredible healing ability, the burning skin and wounds sizzling back to perfect form.
     But the rest of the film takes place decades later, when Logan--now living in a cave like a derelict--gets recruited to say goodbye to the soldier (now an extremely rich man on his deathbed). The man's one dying wish is to thank the Wolverine for saving him many years in the past (or is it?). Following Yukio (Rila Fukushima), a badass Japanese broad with serious hand-to-hand fighting ability, Logan travels to Japan. Clearly, once there, he gets mixed up in a vicious concoction of Yakuza gangsters, protecting a Princess, his regeneration ability going haywire, and a slithering bitch of a "nurse" by the name of Viper (Svetlana Khodchenkova).

     Much of the second half of the film deals with Logan on the run, finally facing a question that he has never had to deal with before: when you've had immortality for so long, and that gets taken away, should you welcome death...or still fight with every last breath (or sharp claw)? A lot of parallels can be drawn with another Marvel favorite, Iron Man, specifically in Tony Stark's malfunctioning energy core heart and--like in the first film--a conclusion involving a mega-mech warrior creature and all-powerful billionaire. But The Wolverine still has plenty up its sleeve. Most of the action is fast-paced and occasionally innovative, like a fight atop a speeding bullet train and a very cool and memorable pre-climax surprise involving hundreds of arrows.
     What The Wolverine does wonderfully is make Logan finally feel human instead of a completely indestructible. It boosts some much needed actual tension into the proceedings. But still, it falls into some of the same traps as many other super hero films. The number of characters and villains sometimes becomes a chore to keep tally of (especially in the nearly half-hour long final section of the film) and one can't help but wonder what this could have been with Darren Aronofsky's unique cinematic vision (not that Mangold doesn't do a completely good and serviceable job). Still, there's no stopping Jackman's incredible charisma--it's easy to tell that he completely relishes this role. I just wish this had been a truly definitive Wolverine film instead of The Wolverine Travels to Japan.     (B)

Only God Forgives: Drive, by way of Boredom

     Expectations can be a dangerous thing: in 2011, Nicolas Winding Refn created my favorite film of the year, Drive, based on the book of the same name by James Sallis and starring Ryan Gosling as a bad ass wheelman. One of the many complaints about Refn's direction is his overuse of style and lack of any substantive narrative structure, and sometimes it seems he's more concerned with what synth-pop song to play in any given scene than the plot which is actually occurring. But Drive bypassed these concerns, showcasing Refn's signature shooting style with a pulpy plot that suited Ryan Gosling's brooding hero perfectly. Zoom up to present day, and seemingly-best-buds Refn and Gosling have created another arty film that deals with revenge and excessive violence. Unfortunately--this time around--the duo has regressed: Only God Forgives shines on a spotlight on the worst aspects of Refn's direction (his obsession with setting up scenes instead of servicing the story), contains one of the most boring performances of Ryan Gosling's career, and its plot is barely more than people walking from point A to point B bathed in neon light.
     Sure, people bathed in neon light look really pretty, and Refn has never had a problem setting up innovative and exciting camera angles. But it all means nothing if the art-house style makes it difficult for a viewer to hold his/her attention. And that's precisely what happens here. There arn't really characters in Only God Forgives in the traditional sense: they're just cardboard cutouts walking to and fro the next or last blood shed. Ryan Gosling portrays Julian, a man running a boxing club as a front for a drug operation. When his brother gets murdered (deservedly so, I might add), he sort-of seeks revenge with his Queenpin mother (Kristin Scott Thomas, overacting) who has flown into town after she heard the news. But even these descriptions are giving the plot too much credit. These things are less figured out than just "sensed".
    The villain role is played by Vithaya Pansringarm, portraying Lieutenant Chang, also known as the "Angel of Vengeance" (though that surely wasn't a fact that was retained in my mind). He's probably the most interesting character in the film, though that's not saying much--his facial expressions rarely change away from looking completely tranquilized. But he's super good at sticking sharp objects into people, particularly in one totally brutal scene which was cringe-inducing.
     The problem here is so much wasted potential: we know that Refn can creature incredible cinema (Drive), and we know that he can make entertaining films that lack plot (Bronson). Here is a film that has a frustrating plot that simply lacks much entertainment value. Sure, you can praise his directing style: you can call it Lynchian, Kubrickian, or whatever compliment that you can think of. But it doesn't change the fact that a film has to keep you interested. Take Upstream Color, for instance. This 2013 experimental film was completely off the wall, lacking a conventional narrative structure. But it was still very transfixing, and it never made me feel like Only God Forgives made me feel: like I was on a dull acid trip that happened to have occasional flashes of ultra-violence. It's all set-up (sure, gorgeous and wonderfully-filmed set-up) with minimal payoff.     (C-)

Pacific Rim: An Entertaining Summer Creature Feature

     I couldn't claim that I was "excited" for Pacific Rim when I first heard the premise (sometime last year): huge man-made robots clashing against giant alien monsters that climb through an alternate dimension worm hole way down in the deepest dark abyss of the ocean, wreaking havoc upon the Earth's most populated cities, laying waste with a few gigantic stomps. But the 10-year-old inside of me certainly was (there has to be a better way to say that). It sounded like a mixture of old Japanese monster movies and Transformers-esque special effects. In essence, that's essentially what Pacific Rim is. But thanks to director Guillermo Del Toro--who created a modern classic with Pan's Labyrinth and put an interesting twist on comic-book films with Hellboy and Hellboy 2--it strikes a cool balance between the two. Because of Del Toro's movie-making ability, Pacific Rim is one of the better films to watch in the theater this summer (it's beautiful and boisterous on the big screen), and though it falls into occasional CGI-overload confusion, it's an interesting and enthralling big-budget spectacle.
     At it's heart, Pacific Rim is Del Toro's love letter to those old films, and his geeky excitement is palpable when you witness the mega battles between the creatures and robots that are the size of skyscrapers. Set in the present day and then moving on to the near future, the film's plot is pure set-up to bring the vibrant destruction onto the screen: the aliens that float up from the crack in the Pacific Ocean are called Kaiju, and they're so full of bad-ass that no military (at first) has the power to stop them. They are fearsome creatures that destroy everything in their path, maiming national landmarks and noshing on any terrified humans that are standing nearby.
     Soon after the initial attacks, the World bands together all of their resources to create a defense that is capable to stand up to the Alien scum. These defensive robots are called Jaegers, and they're essentially massive robots with incredible technology that resemble Master Chief from Halo. Here's where things get a little wild: these robots are controlled not by one pilot but by two. In a process called "The Drift", the pilots' minds are linked together, experiencing the same memories of the past and intuition of what to do next in the fight. It's a left brain / right brain kinda situation, with each pilot controlling a portion of the Jaeger. It works best when the two pilots are compatible with each other, and that's determined by a training period to see who has a connection.

     Our main character is a man named Raleigh Becket, and he's a retired pilot that lost his brother when they were co-piloting an early Jaeger version during the first attacks of the Kaiju. He's a wild card, with a killer instinct and attitude that give him plenty of confidence. He gets brought out of retirement when Earth is facing its darkest hour by the Commander (Idris Elba, who was great on HBO's The Wire). To give our planet a fighting chance, he must work with a talented young woman (Rinko Kinkuchi) and two scientific minds (most notably Charlie Day, branching out nicely from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia).
     Obviously, this film is way more about action and destruction than acting and dialogue. And there's no doubt that Pacific Rim has an overall corniness to it, but it's a campy kind of corniness that's more often endearing than annoying. One could easily ask the question, "What makes Pacific Rim so much different than the Transformers films?" In other words, why is this film good and those "films" shit? Again, it comes down to Del Toro. In every one of his films, the human beings matter. They have living, breathing hearts. The awesome action that is shown supplements the needs and emotions of the human characters, instead of just creating an action set piece that looks like a slick car commercial.
     Pacific Rim looks absolutely incredible. I didn't see the film in 3-D, and I'm glad (it was post-converted to 3-D instead of filmed in 3-D). Without wearing the glasses, the colors were incredibly vivid and breathtaking. Other than a few of the night-time fighting scenes, the environments and special effects looked like they came directly from a painter's neon color palette. But like any mega-budget summer film, the CGI can grow a little tiresome. Especially when the robots and monsters clash in the darker light, and its tough to tell what's going on with all of the clanging.
     Ultimately, Pacific Rim is a good once watch. I don't think I'll be too interested to view it home unless an 80" flat screen magically appeared. Del Toro created a fun and amusing spectacle that pays homage to monster movies of yore with satisfying new ideas and tons of style with just enough substance: in other words, a great addition to this year's big-budget summer tent poles. Though I didn't enjoy it as much as couple other early summer films (Iron Man 3, Star Trek into Darkness), it's clear that with Del Toro's signature touch is one that makes just about any movie worth watching.  Just barely a (B+)

A Written Word Review: The Shining

     Stanley Kubrick's film adaptation of The Shining is well known as one of the greatest horror movies of any generation, hinging on a haunting performance by an all-out-crazy Jack Nicholson and showcasing how well the director's nuances worked with terrifying imagery and incredible POV camera tracking shots. It's easily one of my favorite (horror) films of all time. I was a huge fan of the book too, years ago (so I thought) when I read it. So, about a week ago, in preparation of King's upcoming sequel to his third book, called Doctor Sleep (released in September), I flipped open the cover of my copy and poured myself into the first few pages. Butterflies formed in my stomach. I started to sweat. My nerves jumped to the furthest edge of existence. I realized that--after all of these years of being a so-called Stephen King fan and absolutely loving the film version--I had never even read The Shining, one of King's most famous and treasured novels.
     I always knew that Stephen King was never big fan of his novel's portrayal on the big screen, but that clearly had nothing to do with the talent involved. You couldn't ask for a better Jack Torrance than Mr. Nicholson. So I went into the book version of The Shining with an eye for differences, an eye for determining why King was unhappy and what made the book better than the film. Now, don't get me wrong: both versions of The Shining clearly have plenty of room to coexist on the same landscape--they are both pinnacles in horror writing and horror film-making. But after blowing through the book extremely quickly (frankly, I could barely put it down), I realized that--like the majority of text to cinema adaptations--the book actually is even better.
     We all know (at least I hope) the basic plot lines that are common threads between both creations: there's a hotel, called The Overlook, out in Colorado that shuts down for the Winter. In order to maintain the establishment's basic needs (heating the pipes, general repair, emergencies), a caretaker is hired. Jack Torrance accepts the job, deciding that it's just what he needs to finish some important writing that he hasn't had the time to finish. He brings along his wife, Wendy, and his son, Danny, who has a special gift called "The Shining", a kind of telepathic power. He connects with a black cook named Hallorann, who also has the ability, but not nearly as powerful.  Once everyone leaves for the season, they are snowed in for months, and the hotel's horrific powers start becoming more and more evident.
     A few reasons the book is even better (feel free to skip this paragraph if you're planning on reading it): it really shows the struggle that Jack goes through with his alcoholism, self-pity and self-hatred. In the film version, Jack is never particularly a sympathetic character. As soon as the hotel begins showing its malicious power, Jack succumbs and the change is swift and brutal. In the novel version, we get much more time, and we get many more looks into Jack's psyche to show his slow, downward spiral into an abyss of alcohol and violence. And in the film, Jack is the main villain, other than the casual ghost-like being or hallucination that causes Jack to do something. In the novel, the hotel is a malevolent presence in itself. The Hotel is another character: a living, breathing entity that has a power that far exceeds any normal human being, and especially one full of previous violent episodes and someone filled with self-pity.
       As I stated before, King's newest book is titled Doctor Sleep, and it's a sequel to The Shining. This might worry some fans: a sequel to one of King's most cherished and mentioned novels, released almost 40 (40!) years after the original. But me, I'm not worried. I'm confident that King wouldn't take on a story dealing with a key character in The Shining unless he had a really damn good story, and a really damn good reason to deal with all of the criticism of just deciding to do it in the first place.

The tagline is certainly intriguing:

"With Doctor Sleep, Stephen King returns to the characters and territory of one of his previous novels, The Shining. The novel features the now middle-aged Dan Torrance (the boy protagonist of The Shining) and the twelve-year-old girl, Abra Stone, that he must save from The True Knot. The True Knot are a group of almost immortal travelers who cross the country feeding on children with the gift of "the shining." Dan drifted for decades in an attempt to escape his father's legacy, but eventually settled in a New Hampshire town and works in a nursing home, where his remnant mental abilities provide comfort to the dying. With the aid of a cat that can foresee the future, Dan becomes "Doctor Sleep." After meeting Abra Stone, an epic war between good and evil ensues."

King calls it a return to a "Balls to the Walls" horror novel. After reading The Shining (not to mention his last few books--he's still a great writer), I know I'll be stopping by the book store on its release date, ready to pick up my copy and dive in head first.

What You'll Want to Be Watching:

The Bridge

     FX is one of those television networks that has completely thrived in the era of original dramatic cable programming, second to only AMC (with Breaking Bad, Mad Men, and The Walking Dead). Starting with its breakout hit, The Shield (about corrupt LAPD detective Vic Mackey), back in 2002, it's continually pushed the boundaries with edgy characters and content, and it thrives at creating awesomely worthwhile shows. It gave us Rescue Me, the hit or miss show about NYC firefighters after 9/11, last year's The Americans with its intriguing Cold War premise, and consistently impresses every season with Justified, about our favorite soft-spoken U.S. Marshall starring Timothy Olyphant. Not too mention cult hits Sons of Anarchy and the disturbing Nip/Tuck. (Also not to mention Louie, the best sort-of comedy show currently on television.) Starting on July 10th, it looks like FX might have another hit: the crime thriller The Bridge. 

     The Bridge has a premise that will excite any crime drama lover: a woman is found dead directly on the Texas-Mexico border. One half of her is American, and one half is Mexican. But this show isn't just about a serial killer on the loose. The two detectives that team up (one from each nation) will have to withstand corruption, immigration issues, drug trafficking and prostitution. Unlike AMC's The Killing--which I still like--the material in The Bridge seems like it could be mined for a myriad of issues that pertain to border relations and all of the tensions that are heightened due to the stressful situation, instead of just trying to find one crazy killer.

     Sonya Cross (portrayed by Diane Kruger--you might recognize her from Troy or Inglorious Basterds) works for the El Paso PD. She's a straight-edge, rule-following officer who also happens to have Asberger's Syndrome. She has a bit of a personality that lacks empathy for other human beings while on her pursuit of the truth. But to proceed, she must team up with Marco Ruiz (portrayed by Demian Bichir--he was critically acclaimed in 2011's A Better Life), a Mexican state policeman who tries to be an upstanding cop even in the face of the cartel. 

     There's a lot of potential here, especially if you've caught one of the various teasers that have aired on FX in the past few weeks. They're full of grittiness, creepiness and beautiful cinematography of the parched desert-like wasteland. As anyone who watched Breaking Bad knows, this area of the country can become a character in itself. The Bridge was also created by Meredith Stiehm, who was an executive producer and writer of Showtime's brilliant Homeland. Early word is very positive. Let's hope that by the end of the first season, the momentum is still present, and hopefully we can't wait to return to the violent U.S./Mexico border. 

Season Premiere July 10th, 10 p.m., FX Network

Avoiding the Horde in World War Z

      If you're a fan of Max Brooks' 2006 novel (I thought it was decent), and you've been waiting in anticipation for a big-budget screen adaptation of the sprawling narrative, you should leave your excitement at the door. Because World War Z the film is an entirely different story about the zombie war, where the infected move and think like a colony of quick-moving ants and hop, skip and spring like cheetahs injected with adrenaline. It's way more Left for Dead than Night of the Living Dead. It's also much less contemplative on the social and political issues of the war and focuses much more on the world-wide carnage and cool action set pieces full of CGI and Brad Pitt running for his life. And that's okay: World War Z is a satisfying summer blockbuster that exchanges the book's slower-paced story format with non-stop tension-slathered situations, a film that's well made and entertaining yet doesn't quite cross the threshold of being great.
     After the opening credits, showing the typical quick newsreel footage of different places around the world, thing's start off with a loud Bang. Literally, as Gerry (Brad Pitt), his wife (Mireille Enos, who's so great in AMC's The Killing), and two young daughters are stuck in traffic in Philadelphia when a loud explosion occurs and people start running for their lives. Not ten minutes into the film, and we have our first action set piece: Gerry and his fam witness the insanity first hand, as the Olympic sprinter zombies smash through windows and windshields as they speed their way through gridlocked city streets. It's quickly very certain that this isn't your parent's zombie movie; everything happens with a blink of an eye: the "turn" after being bitten is only 12 seconds before you're fully zombified, twitching like your neighborhood crack addict.
     In one similarity to the book, scenes change from one world location to another, showcasing just how widespread the panic and devastation is. Gerry used to work for the U.N., so conveniently he gets chosen to travel from country to country to find where the "virus" originated. One location generally provides a clue that propels Gerry to the next location, and each country and city--whether it be South Korea, Jerusalem, or anywhere in America--generally shows us an exciting scene of Zombie action. Two come to mind the easiest: as seen in the previews, the horde that forms a living tower, crawling and jumping over each other to reach the top of a massive barrier wall, is frightening because you realize--like flies and maggots on a rotting corpse--that nothing stops these damn things. Another scene that takes place on a passenger jet is full-on intensity, rivaling last year's The Grey in showing why it's realistic to have a fear of flying.

     World War Z is directed by Marc Forster, who consistently makes good (but not great films): Monster's Ball, Finding Neverland, one of the best Will Ferrell films, Stranger than Fiction, and the worst of the Daniel Craig Bond films, Quantum of Solace--these cinematic experiences all have a common thread. They are all worth your time, yet are missing just a little something, like a Zombie that can't quite reach its victim through the metal bars of a prison cell. This film showcases some solid aspects of his direction though: the world-wide tale is ambitious, full of fun zombie action, and there are plenty of quiet moments where you wonder what is lurking around the next corner. Brad Pitt has always been an actor that's totally under-appreciated. To me--look at Seven, Fight Club, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, or Moneyball--he's one of our best actors. Always in control in every situation, his quiet performance isn't showy or over-the-top. It's realistic and, especially in the final third of the film, powerful.
      World War Z is a film that is told in three distinct acts, and the last portion of the film is a complete departure from the apocalyptic action of what came before it: it's slower and more thoughtful, and it actually works as a much more intimate look at the zombies and how they operate. It's also not the original ending of the film. Much has been said about the production woes on the set of World War Z: the budget ballooning from $125 million to $200 million (or more), a huge battle that was cut entirely from the film, seven additional weeks of re-shoots months after the filming was already concluded, and script re-writes including a brand new ending from the always-in-demand Lost writers--these things all spell major trouble.
     And sure, the film has some issues. Sometimes it can be over-ambitious--jumping from place to place, it's easy to get viewer jetlag (and hard to connect with characters we barely meet). The scenes between Gerry and his family have minimal impact, because we barely know them before flesh starts getting torn. And--my biggest problem--its PG-13 rating. Obviously, a $200 million dollar summer blockbuster has to make money, so an R rating would have made it tough to get a good return on investment. But this is a movie about zombies, so when the camera cuts away from teeth gnashing into necks, knives cutting off limbs, or bullets to a zombie's cranium, something gets lost in translation. The fear of the living dead is a primal sort of terror, a fear of being brutally eaten alive or violently transforming into one of the horde. With World War Z, we settle for an ambitious but neutered zombie story, an admirable attempt at a mega budget undead summer movie that sacrifices true terror with just enough tension.     (B)