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.

Netflix This: Tyrannosaur

     Tyrannosaur, at its heart, is about anger: the anger that just can't go away, no matter how hard a person tries to fix it or push it deep down in the pit of their stomach. The film starts with several hard-watch-scenes, particularly if you have trouble with animal abuse (in fact, there are at least two scenes in Tyrannosaur that involve pets being killed, whether they deserve it or not). Joseph lives alone after the death of his wife. But he doesn't really live alone, as he spends most of his time with semi-friends and strangers trying to drink away every memory that's latched inside of his brain. Drinking the anger and pain away doesn't help: it always boils to the surface, causing Joseph to lash out at humans, animals, kids, and people of color.
     Joseph is played by Peter Mullan, who is recognizable most to Trainspotting fans (he was also in the modern classic Children of Men), and what a violent and amazing performance it is. It's hard to take your eyes off of him: with his thick accent and deep, sad eyes he conveys Joseph as a broken man on the verge of shattering, a brutal force that--every now and then--turns to kindness when he's near people who make him feel human. He's the old guy at the bar with dark secrets and violent stares.
     After a few violent reactions to everyday situations, Joseph performs a particularly alarming act, and runs from the scene. He knows that he has gone too far, and in a state of desperation, he ends up cowering behind a rack of clothing in a thrift store. This thrift store is run by a woman named Hannah, and instead of shooing Joseph away, she stands on the other rise of the rack, trying to help and understand him. He doesn't say a word, but when Hannah starts praying for him, Joseph breaks down into sobs and tears. Maybe if Joseph would just accept Jesus and the state of his life, any situation would be manageable. But Hannah has secrets of her own, the least of which is her secret alcohol abuse (alcoholism is nothing compared to the state of her home life with her husband).
     Almost everyone in Joseph's life is at odds against him. He strikes up a friendship with his neighbor's son, but the boy's mother has a boyfriend that's a wannabee gangster, chain's bouncing around his neck as he holds back his vicious pitbull from attacking anything nearby. He is the opposite of Joseph: confrontational from the start and obnoxious. Striking up a friendship with Hannah--a kind and generous woman--seems like a logical choice in the correct direction, instead of fighting with bar patrons and his neighbor's boyfriend with a dumb and violent dog.
     Something sets off a spark in Joseph when Hannah shows up to her shop one morning with a black eye. Joseph is finally in a position, seemingly the first since his wife died, to actually help someone in need, instead of letting his anger seep out of every bone, muscle and pore in his body. The film hints at Joseph's relationship with his wife, but it doesn't delve into it too deeply. But it's clear that Joseph will have to make some decisions that may change the rest of his life, due to his new friendship with Hannah and the growing tension between Joseph and the pitbull-holding neighbor.
     Tyrannosaur is directed by Paddy Considine, an actor (whom you may have seen in Hot Fuzz or The Bourne Ultimatum) taking over the directing chair for the first time. He sure does a damn good job: Tyrannosaur is one of the best and most affecting films of 2011. This is the type of movie that just looks at a few damaged human beings. It's not about redemption or learning to change your entire personality. It's depressing at times and always emotional, but only because the character's positions are so dire. I wouldn't even say that's extremely fun to watch--it's dark and brutal. But it's also an honest and realistic look at anger--anger that causes satisfaction for some and pain for others.

The Evil Dead Rise in The Cabin in the Woods

     You may have seen the preview quickly flashed across your television screen. It has all of the ingredients of a typical, unoriginal, cliche horror movie: five college age kids, each playing the role that has been played a thousand times, head up to a remote cabin in the woods (on a lake, obviously) to drink and screw for a long weekend. There's the bonerific blond girl, Jules, whose screen time is spent either screaming or gyrating her tanned upper thighs to party music. Her boyfriend, Curt, wears his varsity jacket and lives off of his frat-boy charm. Holden is the smart kid, tagging along on the trip for chance to score with the virginal Dana, whose professor just ended their short fling via email. And then there's Marty, who's--you guessed it--a stoner who knows that something just isn't right.
     Do you really want to pay money to see this story played out again? We all know where this is headed (or beheaded). The answer to that question is yes...but I can't really tell you why. It's nearly impossible to tackle a review on The Cabin in the Woods without spoiling some of the best parts. I will say this: the film is surprising and breaks out into a no-holds barred blood bath of epic proportions, and even if some of the plot points are too over-the-top and some of the humor misses its mark, The Cabin in the Woods is an enjoyable 90 minutes at the theater, with enough spurting blood to satisfy any gore-hound.
     Though the group stops at a decrepit gas station and meets the toothless, tobacco-spitting local who owns it, and the cabin looks no different than most any other cabin-horror movie, once the group finds out what is exactly in the cellar, all hell breaks loose. The film sounds quite similar to Eli Roth's Cabin Fever, which I love unconditionally. But the director and writer of The Cabin in the Woods, Drew Goddard and Joss Whedon (who created the television version of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and is directing next month's hugely-hyped The Avengers), have crafted an entirely new experience, an Evil Deadish film full of meta winks and nods.
     Clearly, this cabin in the woods is much different than any other portrayed in the horror genre. Nothing is really what it seems, and most everything is intentional. If you've seen the previews for The Cabin in the Woods, it's clear that there are members of the cast other than the five unfortunate souls who enter the cabin. Six Feet Under's Richard Jenkins and Billy Madison's Bradley Whitford play scientists who are trying to craft a successful experiment involving the attractive twenty-somethings. This may seem a bit too spoilerific, but the first scene in the film involves these two characters. They add much of the humor and horror-genre self-referential wit to the proceedings.

     Creatures start to rise from nearby graves to attack the confused group. As the fighting and terrorizing continues to get more and more scary and crazy, The Cabin in the Woods takes a left turn into absolute insanity. The final third of the film is a balls-to-the-walls freak fest that is as admirable as it is laughable--laughable in a good way though, as revelation after revelation forms on the faces of the remaining characters. Like The Evil Dead, it opens up the gates of Hell and plants its feet firmly inside of them (also like The Evil Dead, it's destined to become a cult classic of sorts).
     The Cabin in the Woods is like a puzzle that is generally enjoyable but occasionally frustrating. It's reminiscent of many movies: the aforementioned Cabin Fever and The Evil Dead, Cube, and even the recent Hunger Games adaptation. But it fully makes the story its own. What's key is going into the film knowing as little information about it as possible. You might be thinking: Why tell me this now, after reading all of this review? But the information I have told doesn't come close to delving into any of the surprises of the movie. Ultimately, The Cabin in the Woods isn't even about scaring or surprising, as much as it seems to be. It's about taking a trusted story and flipping it on its head, winking to the audience the entire way.     (B)

3 New Shows Coming to HBO This Spring and Summer

     With the great news landing this week that HBO has renewed the awesome Game of Thrones for a third season (which will tell the story--more or less--of the first half of the third book in the A Song of Ice and Fire series), I thought it would be pertinent to take a glance at three of HBO's new shows: Girls and Veep, which premiere this month, and The Newsroom, which will premiere in June. Consistently beating out every other pay network and destroying any network television station in terms of quality, the fact is that if you are willing to pay for cable or satellite and don't pay the extra 12ish bucks a month for HBO, you are missing out--not just on the best dramas on T.V., but great sports shows, the best political show, and HBO GO, which has nearly all of the station's shows archived into one (extremely easy-to-use) instant watch online database.


Girls

     With Girls, one might think that HBO is trying to revisit the success that they had with Sex and the City. "Living the dream, one mistake at a time," could be used for any number of situations that horse-faced Carrie and her crew of hags experienced throughout the numerous seasons of Sex (that all chicks love). Fortunately, it sounds like Girls aims higher and differently: the series is created by and stars Lena Dunham, the maker of well-received indie film Tiny Furniture in 2010. "There was this whole in-between space that hadn't really been addressed," Dunham states about Girls and its two major predecessors, Sex and the City and Gossip Girl. It's this middle space that I'm hoping--along with many others--begins to mine comedy gold. A girl and her friends move to New York City: the plot is familiar, but allows for plenty of ingenuity and (hopefully) genuine laughs. Girls is also produced by Judd Apatow. (Premieres April 15th)








Veep

     In the Loop was one my favorite films of 2009. It's acidic humor, dry wit, and overall wackiness helped create one of the best political humor films that I have ever seen. Why mention the great In the Loop? Well, HBO's new show Veep is created by Armando Lannucci, who also made the BBC sitcom The Thick of It (also based on aspects of government), which inspired the fly-on-the-wall style of In The Loop. If you've seen any of the trailers for Veep, it looks sharp and funny. Julia Louis-Dreyfus plays Vice President of the United States Selina Meyer. Other than that simple fact, the plot in unknown. You can be sure of plenty of laughs and ongoing inside jokes, though. Only one person of value from Seinfeld has created anything worthwhile since that great show ended: and that person is Seinfeld creator Larry David. Where did he go when he wanted to create great comedy with less restrictions and boundaries? HBO. Here's hoping Elaine follows his lead with the extremely promising Veep. (Premieres April 22)










The Newsroom

     The last show--and the most anticipated (by me, at least)--is The Newsroom. This looks like it could easily become a classic HBO drama, one that will be praised for years. The first bullet point on the list of reasons to why it will be great: it was created and written by Aaron Sorkin. Lately, his sharp words and realistic dialogue have catapulted some films from great to brilliant--The Social Network and Moneyball are the two most recent examples. If you've caught the new trailer for The Newsroom before the past couple of Game of Thrones episodes, the know the words come fast, powerful and witty. Jeff Daniels plays a news anchor who--along with his staff--tries to create a successful cable news channel. Corporate troubles, commercial woes, and personal and familial drama--these are the hurdles that the ensemble cast must jump above or hide from. Out of HBO's three new shows, this is only one that's an hour long drama, what the pay channel is best at. If everything comes together, and the show is a hit, the station will have Game of Thrones, The Newsroom, and Boardwalk Empire, three great dramas (hopefully, for The Newsroom) in three out of the four seasons. Anticipation is high. (Premieres June 24)

Netflix This: Point Blank

     We all know the story: a wife or child is kidnapped for uncertain reasons. The man--a husband, father or brother--left behind has a specific set of skills, skills that the bad guys (usually stereotypical middle-eastern-looking men) will come to know all too well. But in Point Blank, the French film from last year where excitement trumps sanity and plausibility at every plot twist, the man trying to find his loved one, his almost-eight-months-pregnant-and-supposed-to-be-bedridden wife, isn't an ex-CIA agent who can destroy you with his hand-to-hand combat skills or 9mm marksmanship. No, he's just a low-end nurse whose luckiness seems to get him out of every unlucky situation.
     I stated that the excitement of Point Blank trumps its plausibility. This is a film that moves at breakneck speed soon after the opening credits. At only 84 minutes long, it has to. Samuel is a nurse working the night shift at a hospital. His wife, Nadia, is pregnant and on bed rest, though she doesn't want to be. When a mysterious patient is admitted to Sam's floor, and a man shows up (dressed as a doctor) and cuts the patient's breathing tube and then runs for unknown reasons, Sam saves the man's life and goes home after his shift. Unfortunately, Sam has been followed home. The next morning, as he yawns and walks out of the bedroom, he gets hit over the head and knocked unconscious. He wakes to find his pregnant wife has been kidnapped. He gets only one instruction by cellphone. Get the mysterious patient out of the hospital alive, by whatever means possible.
     This movie is like Crank if Crank wasn't the cinematic equivalent of a smelly sack of dog shit. Samuel runs into trouble at every single turn, and the stakes are escalated to involve robbers, safe-breakers, dangerous criminals, a very good detective, a very bad detective, and--finally--much of the entire police department and rioting city. It's insane. It's violent. And a whole hell of a lot doesn't make a particularly lot of logical sense, but you won't care less if you're in the mood for a short, kick-ass story about a man just trying to save the ones that he loves.
     Every situation evolves into the next with tension and insanity. How the hell is he going to get out of this one, you'll be asking under your breath. Unpredictability is key in a film like this, and it plays the viewer just as successfully as the cat-and-mouse chase scenes are played out on screen. One of my often-checked film sites has stated that an American remake is in the works, and I surely don't doubt it. Knowing American remakes, it will be a worse version of the story with less excitement. There will also be no subtitles, so people won't have to (God Forbid!) read. Do yourself a favor: watch this version, the only version available now, to get an 84-minute shot of adrenaline.

(Available on Netflix Instant)

Netflix This: Martha Marcy May Marlene

     Martha Marcy May Marlene is a little overlooked gem from last year, a film that is thought-provoking, weird and exciting. Martha is a girl who is lost in life. We're really not quite sure why. So she joins this family in upstate New York that is trying to live off of the grid and be self-sustainable. They give her a new name: Marcy May (Marlene is the name the girls use when answering the telephone). This is one of those Drink the Kool-Aid families, a family where the oldest male, Patrick (played awesomely creepy by John Hawkes--of Winter's Bone and Eastbound and Down fame--with his scrawny body looking like a menacing skeleton), essentially rapes all of the new girls that decide to join. "The first time is so special," Martha's cult sister states in her brainwashed state.
     The film's about psychological damage and the denial, love, and betrayal that someone can feel when they are being manipulated into fitting in. Patrick, through a look of the eyes or encouraging words, can make any girl feel like she is fulfilling a specific role, even if that role is bearing unwanted children or committing a crime, sometimes a minor crime and sometimes a brutal one. All of these girls (and some of the boys) are vulnerable to his tactics--gentle when need be and harsh when the situation calls for it.
     After an unseen (until late in the run time of the film) event, Martha decides that she wants to leave the cult,  so she escapes and calls her sister, Lucy, who is recently married to a rich man, Ted, with a beautiful house on a lake and many expensive material possessions. Lucy takes Martha in, and from then on Martha Marcy May Marlene is told in corresponding scenes of present day at the lake house and recent-past scenes at the cult farm. Usually the scenes bleed into each other, with a memory from one time period reminding Martha of a specific--sometimes horrific--event. Lucy cares for Martha, but it's clear that their relationship has never been very sisterly, and eventually she comes to realize the depths of Martha's psychosis. The possibility of Patrick or another cult member coming to the lake to forcefully take her back looms large in the second half of the film until it reaches a fever pitch of tension and anticipation.
     Though John Hawkes is practically perfect as cult leader Patrick, the real performance that powerfully anchors the film is Elizabeth Olsen's as Martha. Olsen, the younger sister of Mary-Kate and Ashley, clearly got the talent and correct eating habits of the three actresses. Martha Marcy May Marlene is Elizabeth's first film role, and what a wonderful performance it is. Between her natural vulnerability and honest portrayal of a girl who has been manipulated, she is an actress who is destined to perform some great film roles. She runs the gamut of emotion with depth and skill: anger, love, happiness, flippancy, selfishness and fear. It's safe to say that no one will mistake her for Mary-Kate or Ashley in the next New York Minute sequel.
     The film is one that asks plenty of questions and answers only some of them. The viewers are left thinking, even once the credits start rolling up the screen. How can someone get so involved in a place like this? How can one decipher the thin line between actual love and manipulation? And is it possible, physically or (especially) mentally, to leave a known, sometimes vicious world behind to try and start a better life? These are some of the questions that don't get answered. But Martha Marcy May Marlene does answer one question: can this story and this cast create one of the best independent films of 2011? That answer is a definite "Yes".

Fast and Fierce, The Hunger Games Adaptation Hits its Mark

     A future where the country is separated into twelve districts after an apocalyptic event. Every year, a boy and a girl are selected from each district to train and then fight in a random arena, slicing and dicing each other to the horror and cheers of thousands of people. The killing is beamed to every television, a kind of sick new version of reality T.V. It's a broadcast that destroys optimism and hope, a broadcast that controls. It's to the death, and there can be only one winner. A huge number of humans know this story, as Suzanne Collins' best-selling series shows, relaxing at the top of the charts week after week, month after month. You see a child or adult often carrying a copy, and their familiar covers litter coffee tables and nightstands throughout the world. A successful text to film transfer is a trickier proposition--look how lame the Twilight movies are. Fortunately for Katniss fans, director Gary Ross knows how to play the film-making game, adapting the first (of a trilogy) Hunger Games film into a frantic, anxiety-giving thrill of a movie.
     The Hunger Games is more science fiction than supernatural. No vampires fly down to suck the blood out of a young female's neck. It's a story than can be identified with as something that isn't too far-fetched. North America has basically been destroyed by an unknown war. Out of the ashes and bloodied bodies, the country of Panem arises. Panem is made up of twelve districts all controlled by a rich and perverted Capital. Each district has its own specification, focusing on resources to keep the district barely alive and the Capital fat and thriving. As a reminder for each district's insubordination, every year The Hunger Games takes place, where 24 kids get chosen through a lottery to fight to the death.
     Katniss Everdeen, the heroine of this trilogy, is the first-person perspective focus of the books and the main focus of the film. She's played by Jennifer Lawrence, who was great in Winter's Bone and fully solidifies the fact that she can carry a film franchise like a backpack. When Primrose, the sister of Katniss, gets chosen in the lottery, Katniss volunteers to take her place. Katniss is a character whom everyone can relate to, not just teenage girls with younger sisters and Young Adult novel readers. She's thrown into a situation where she must fight to survive, through talk and the Thwak of one of her arrows ripping into flesh and bone. Much of The Hunger Games book series is Katniss's interior thoughts, and Lawrence's impressive vulnerability and her uncanny ability to say a lot without saying a word proves that no other young actress could have been this good.
     About half the movie is the kid-filled battle. The books are violent enough, but Collins knows just enough to let your imagination fill in the wounds and more horrific killings. The movie is similar, using very quick-cut editing and impressive sound work to let you barely see and hear the violent fights. This movie was never going to be rated R, so it focuses more on the aftermath of each death than the death itself, gazing upon the faces of the predators and the prey. During the start of the games, after a tension-filled one-minute countdown, almost a dozen kids die after they fight to get the supplies piled in the middle of the arena. Its dizzying, and it's the one detriment to the fighting in the film. It's tough to see who's fighting who, and the half-second scenes flash by like a strobe light's rays.

     Katniss is from District 12. The boy from District 12 is named Peeta, and throughout the lead up to the games and the games themselves, the two teenagers realize that sticking together might be the best option. The film version of Peeta, played by Josh Hutcherson, is easily to like and all-too-willing to please and protect his beautiful district mate. It's the closest thing to a love story that this film has, but nothing is what is seems. In the books, Katniss has a hunting buddy back home, a dude named Gale who just seems destined to be with Katniss forever. But the film throws him to the wayside, barely showing him, and that's certainly fine by me. Katniss thinking about her relationship back home with Gale and her growing thoughts about Peeta make up the only parts of The Hunger Games books that could be considered Twilight-esque. The film version essentially ignores it, and it's surely all the better for it.
     Stories like this have been done before; it's nothing original. In the 1987 The Running Man adaptation, a wrongly-convicted man must try to survive a public execution gauntlet staged as a television game show. In particular, the story of The Hunger Games resembles the year 2000 Japanese film, Battle Royale (a film which one would most definitely want to check out if one was a fan of the Collins novels), in which a group of ninth-graders are forced to kill one another in a very similar fashion. But The Hunger Games succeeds in being something a little more, a story of never-ending hopelessness and violence transforming into something resembling a growing hope and discomfort about life's controlling conditions. Like most film adaptations, you get a lot more with reading the book. But with Gary Ross's furious directing and Jennifer Lawrence's powerhouse performance, the film version of The Hunger Games is a perfectly good companion.     (B+)

Most of Mars Attacks in John Carter

     Last summer, I (wrongly) was highly anticipating Cowboys and Aliens, which starred James Bond and Indiana Jones as foes who join hands to take out a common enemy: creepy and vicious extra terrestrials. I mention this disappointing film because it caused me to learn a lesson when it comes to big budget extravaganzas that meld together two separate genres. You can't count on entertainment no matter how much cash is being thrown at a movie. Skepticism flowed from my mind when watching the first trailers for Disney's reportedly $250 million dollar adaptation of Edgar Rice Burroughs' 1940's series of novels based on the planet Barsoom (which we, citizens of Earth, refer to as Mars). They surely lacked impressiveness: full of generic action and corny dialogue, it seemed like Prince of Persia 2. Fortunately, the film is filled with a bevy of awesome actors who are at least entertaining to watch, even if the pacing leaves much to be desired and some incomprehensible plot points occur now and again.
     John Carter is similar to Cowboys and Aliens in some regard. It has the same type of not-taking-itself-too-seriously humor, powerful other-worldly weapons going against ancient staples (swords), and a mild love story that isn't too exciting for most of the run time. But--once the story leaves the stale American soil--John Carter does have a sense of wonder, and it is totally gorgeous to gaze upon (it will look incredible on Blu Ray, as did Wall-E, director Andrew Stanton's last film before making his live-action debut). The set-up in America before the Mars stuff is slow and merely passable. John Carter is a civil war veteran who is something of a loose cannon. He gets taken prisoner by a Colonel--Breaking Bad's Bryan Cranston, relishing a small and humorous role--who want's him back in the fight. After getting wounded, Carter takes the Colonel to a cave that seemingly has mysterious properties. A man in a robe appears out of thin air, and after a struggle Carter gets accidentally sent to Barsoom through a mystical amulet.
      Somehow, Mars (Barsoom) has an atmosphere which allows breathing and gravity is different but still present (John can jump incredible distances, and everyone in the film is unbelievably amazed, like jumping really far is more impressive than gigantic flying ships and creatures with four arms). The scene in which he discovers his new jumping ability is fun and funny, with John jumping and falling across the new barren landscape. John soon gets discovered by a race of Jar Jar Binks-with-tusks looking thingies, and he finds out that Barsoom is ravaged by the war of two human cities, and the race of aliens (called Tharks) is basically caught in the middle.

     The story also delves into supernatural and eternal beings, a princess who has to marry a ruthless and conscious-free warrior, and Tharks on a pilgrimage to appease the Goddess. But let's not get into that stuff here. Some of the action is great, even if we're wondering to ourselves, How much can John Carter rely on his new-found jumping ability? The film is filled with actors that have appeared in lots of good productions over the years, specifically in two great HBO shows. Caesar and Marc Antony of Rome make appearances. McNulty from HBO's The Wire portrays the ruthless man who is to marry the princess. Unfortunately, he is being controlled by an eternal being looking to destroy the planet, who can only been seen to those who he shows himself too. This being is played by Mark Strong, who was so great in last year's Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy and The Guard, two films that made my year end top ten list. Everyone here is entertaining and serviceable, but no one especially stands out, not even Taylor Kitsch in the lead role of John Carter.
     The pacing is where the film's problems lie. We get good action, then incomprehensible dialogue. An exciting chase scene, then romantic banter between two characters who have barely met. As soon as the excitement of each visually-striking action scene winds down, most of the fun leaves John Carter. It's like you poked a hot air balloon with a sharp object and the gorgeous views and adrenaline slowly come back to Earth (or Mars, in this case). John Carter was a big risk for Disney, a risk that surely didn't pay off for American audiences. With a $250 million dollar budget, it needed to make back a lot of that money on the first couple of weekends to be considered a success. And it didn't. But John Carter is a success at one thing: being a movie that is fun enough and slightly above-average.     (C+)
 

Game Change or: Point and Laugh at Sarah Palin!

     There's no question that Game Change, the new HBO film based on the book of the same name about the 2008 Presidential campaign, is pretty gosh darn flippin' unsympathetic to Sarah Palin. Even before seeing the film or reading the book, who couldn't be? This woman knew what she was getting into before the long and personal attacks on her started, but she accepted the offer and made a fool of herself on a myriad of cringe-inducing occasions (most notably the Katie Couric interview, which is covered in the film). However, if half of the conversations, speeches and actions that Palin performed in Game Change are legitimate truths--and I'm assuming that at least most of them are, since the book is extremely thorough with hundreds of interviews and eyewitnesses on both sides of the political spectrum--then she isn't just unsympathetic, she's straight up unlikable: bitchy, commanding and demanding.
     Game Change the movie is quite a bit different than Game Change the book: the written work focused on a vast cast of political characters involved in the 2008 election period, including Obama, John Edwards, Joe Biden and Rudy Giuliani. The movie basically focuses on Sarah Palin and the head of McCain's advisors, Steve Schmidt, and to a lesser extent McCain himself. It might as well have been called, Game Change: Sarah's Story. And for a movie that's only two hours long, that's alright. (Also, Palin is clearly the most captivating of the select group of political warriors, either due to her conviction or stupidity [I'm voting the latter].)
     McCain's campaign--near the beginning of its run--needed a spark. Obama was a young, exciting world figure already at that time, and McCain was old and boring. So, after not much thought or investigation, the team decided to pick Sarah Palin. This move, like much of the film, is told through the eyes of Steve Schmidt, portrayed by Woody Harrelson. Schmidt was pretty instrumental in the selection of the Alaska governor, and it's great entertainment to watch Harrelson's slow realization of how deep he's dug McCain's campaign into a hole. The selection seemed great at first: Sarah was confident and very charismatic. But the selection process was very quick and not very thorough due to the time constraints. Schmidt didn't even ask her any foreign policy questions, to test her knowledge. Pretty soon everyone witnessed how deep the depths of her stupidity really went: she bossed the staff around like a diva, she backed out on agreements she made from the very beginning, and her knowledge of important information for a potential world leader to know--like geography, the Iraq war, and United States history--was atrocious. This woman was a heartbeat or bout of cancer (McCain already had cancer twice) away from being the Commander in Chief of the United States of America.

     The performances are what really elevate Game Change above typical cable movie fare. Harrelson's great and entertaining--that's been covered. Ed Harris portrays McCain as a very likable character, a man whose honor exceeds many, and a man whose vulgarity and excitement is charming. For a war hero who is at the top of his ticket, he plays second fiddle in Game Change just as he did on his actual campaign. He doesn't even leave Palin hard feelings at the end, when it's clear that she may have cost him his presidency. The film's always great when Julianne Moore is on screen, portraying Sarah Palin. This is an embodiment of a character, much different than Tina Fey's impersonation on Saturday Night Live. Though she does look uncannily like Palin, Moore proves what a great actress she is with every action, annunciation, strut and hand gesture. This is woman who believes that everything good has happened to her because it's part of God's plan. She's always confident and firm in her beliefs. Yet it's the more intimate moments of Moore's portrayal that showoff her excellent performance, when Sarah gets overwhelmed with the media's bullying or when she receives a phone call from her son in Iraq.
     If the only difference between a hockey mom and a pitbull is lipstick, then the only difference between Sarah Palin and a great actress is a Presidential campaign. She fools everyone constantly, pretending to know answers to questions when she doesn't. She captivates the eyes of thousands upon thousands of Americans. She even memorizes her lines for a debate instead of actually knowing the answers. Watching these behind-the-scenes moments add just enough, so it seems like something more than just re-watching the 2008 presidential race. We see snippets of many of the same interviews and rallies that we have seen before, but in Game Change, they still seem fresh. One thing is sure: Sarah Palin would have been a dangerous President.  
 (B)


P.S. Here's hoping Romney makes the same mistake, if not for the sake of the country, then for the sake of comedy.
   

Netflix This: Like Crazy

     I recently re-watched 500 Days of Summer because a friend wanted to see it. I won't name names here. Upon that viewing, I realized how much I hated it. It's full of cliche, sappy, trying-way-too-hard-to-be-hip dialogue and humor, and its characters name drop so-called good bands at a hilarious rate. It wasn't the cast's fault: the script was just too darned cute for its own good. When Like Crazy came in the mail, I was more than a little concerned that it would fall into the same trap. Luckily, I was more than pleasantly surprised: the film's one of the better movies to come out of 2011, a sad and honest tale about a young couple who just can't stick together for a plethora of reasons.
      Like Crazy won the 2011 Sundance Film Festival Grand Jury Prize for Drama, arguably the highest honor of any film festival in a given year. That may not mean much to some, but when films such as Winter's Bone, Frozen River, Primer, The Believer, and Blood Simple have won in previous years, it's surely something to take note of.
     The story is simple and has been told in various ways throughout dozens of years and hundreds of films. It's a story about love and the difficulties of being in love. Jacob and Anna are both college students in Los Angeles. Anna is a British exchange student, and she instantly has a liking to the quiet and talented Jacob, who--at a young age of 22--is already starting his career as a furniture maker. They quickly make a connection and start to grow as a couple. Anna convinces herself that it would be a wonderful idea to stay the summer after the school year with Jacob, staying in bed all day and falling more and more in love as every minute passes. Unfortunately, staying the entire summer has consequences: Anna overstays her Student Visa, and when she tries to come back to L.A. from London after a short family obligation, she is detained and sent back on a plane to her homeland. This begins a frustrating and tension-filled ride that contains a long-distance relationship, each character getting involved in their work and other lovers, Visa problems, and the question of whether or not two people can still be in love after months apart and life's everyday problems getting in the way at every turn.
     As I said, love stories like this have been told before. But Like Crazy is original and honest enough to rise high above typical romantic fare. The director, Drake Doremus (whom I hadn't heard of before this film), has stated that the script is fully improvised, and it shows. Each word feels natural and unforced, as do the gestures, nervousness of a strained relationship, and the unfortunate circumstances that Jacob and Anna each place themselves in. It goes beyond most romantic garbage that gets assembly-lined into the theaters nowadays, surprising the viewer with its in-depth intimacy.
     Does Like Crazy have the occasional corny line of dialogue or sappy facial expression? Of course: all relationships do, as do all films about relationships. It doesn't hurt the enjoyment. It also doesn't hurt that the film stars an actor and an actress who are destined to become stars. Anton Yelchin plays Jacob, and he is always likable: whether the film is Alpha Dog, Star Trek, or The Beaver, he is always natural, funny and easy to watch. Felicity Jones plays Anna, and she will break your heart more than a few times in Like Crazy. A complete natural and completely beautiful, every scene that she is in glues your eyes to the screen.
    Be warned: the film isn't a great one to watch with a new significant other. Some have called it a movie to watch with someone you're about to break up with. But that's a harsh statement: though Like Crazy is about a couple who have to hurdle seemingly impossibly-high obstacles (and often failing), it also shows that love can cause you to jump really fucking high on occasion.