Category: Reviews

Gasping for Air.


Well, having seen Big Fish the other night, I can safely say it’s better than 2001’s Planet of the Apes, and I enjoyed it more than 1999’s Sleepy Hollow. Still, I expected more from this most recent outing by Tim Burton. You’d think Burton would be the perfect guy to construct a tale of fantastical, overgrown whoppers, but half the time I was wondering, “Where’s the beef?”

It’s not the cast’s fault, really. Ewan McGregor is charming as ever in the lead (even if he and Jude Law seem to be in a dead heat as to which son of the Isles can strike the goofiest Southern accent this Christmas), Albert Finney is fine, Billy Crudup does what he can in a thankless role, and most if not all of the supporting players are solid.

But the writing…I haven’t read the book, so I don’t know how close it adheres to the original stories. But I thought the film was hit-or-miss and, well, episodic. Some of the fish tales, like Ed Bloom’s mission to Korea or his tear through his small town, are pretty funny and enjoyable. Others, like his sojourn in Spectre, go on for far too long. And others, like the secret in Danny DeVito’s trailer, never really get off the ground and seem throwaway.

Of course, the larger problem here is the saccharine nature of the whole project, which is particularly surprising given Burton’s normal talent for subversiveness. He’s always been good at creating dark, edgy, temperamental worlds (Beetlejuice, Nightmare before Christmas, Batmans 1&2), but somehow this sickly-sweet, frothy, straightforward story turned Tim Burton into Chris Columbus. Sure, the denouement of the film is moving in its own way, but only because Burton hits you over the head with hospital bed tearfulness and graveside eulogizing…I’m surprised he didn’t kill a puppy while he was at it.

In sum, the movie seems to be missing that imaginative spark I once expected from Burton. What could have been an imaginative Ed Wood-like fusion of the mainstream and the perverse ended up coming across as a rather bland and staid studio project (As Buck Henry might put it, “On Golden Pond meets O Brother Where Art Thou.”) The thing about Big Fish is, I didn’t dislike it in the end. I just ended up feeling rather ambivalent about it. Hopefully, Burton will bring more of his trademark minor-key mischievousness to the table in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

Risky Business.

An angry and confused American man, disgusted by the valuelessness, rapacity, and interminable selfishness that he believes characterizes the United States in the throes of unfettered capitalism, finds meaning and community overseas in an antimodern movement dedicated to tradition, discipline, martialism, and fighting Westernization. Taking arms against the side his mother country supports, this scruffy, bearded fellow watches proudly as his comrades-in-arms attempt to achieve honor and purity through a wave of suicide attacks against superior American-backed firepower. The John Walker Lindh story? Nope, The Last Samurai. Funny how the same narrative looks completely different once Tom Cruise gets involved.

Ok, ok, I should say that The Last Samurai is both very well-made and for the most part very enjoyable. Despite having the straightest teeth in the nineteenth century, Cruise is quite good in the lead (give or take the first five minutes — somebody should have already figured out by now that, after Jerry Maguire and Vanilla Sky, Cruise should never, ever, play a drunk.) Moreover, Ken Watanabe in the semi-fictional title role is a revelation — he commands the screen’s attention and suggests comparison with some of Kurosawa’s stars of yesteryear. There’s tons of solid supporting performances here, particularly by the residents of Katsumoto’s village. The cinematography and the New Zealand scenery (while obviously recalling Middle Earth) are often beautiful, and the action scenes (if not the CGI) are first-rate. And, there’s ninjas in it, and, let’s face it, that’s pretty cool.

But, still, something about the film ultimately left me hollow, and it wasn’t just the drawn-out, increasingly Hollywood-y ending. In some ways, the movie seemed like a textbook-case fictionalization of T.J. Jackson Lears’ No Place of Grace: An American seeks meaning and refuge from the vicissitudes of Gilded Age capitalism in the antimodern, the martial, and the Orient. So, in that sense, the history checks out.

But, as Louis Menand’s The Metaphysical Club points out, many – if not most – Americans who’d fought in the Civil War had soured on the purported romance of dying for a cause (In fact, Menand argues, perhaps a bit dubiously, that it is this realization, borne of Antietam and Cold Harbor, that undergirds the philosophy of pragmatism.) And you’d think that after the carnage of Pickett’s charge and Petersburg, most Civil War veterans — particularly ones as disillusioned as Tom Cruise’s Algren — wouldn’t think charging a Howitzer is a particularly valiant way to go out. (Although I haven’t read the book, I expect Cold Mountain to make some hay of this come Christmas Day.) Besides, c’mon y’all, didn’t we learn anything from WWI?

I know, I know, I’m probably thinking about this way too much. After all, the “fight to the last man in the name of the cause” suicide charge is a staple of both samurai films and war movies (including Edward Zwick’s own Glory), and The Last Samurai is both a very good war movie and a superlative samurai flick. And, of course we’re going to see a few variations on this trope next week in RotK, a film I was lavishly anticipating just one entry ago — in fact, change the costumes a bit and we’ve got the Ride of the Rohirrim here.

But…riding against Sauron is one thing — riding against the United States is (hopefully) another. (For that matter, while they both embrace the antimodern, I’d say the overarching theme of LotR is fighting so your friends can live, not fighting for the sake of dying with honor.) I suppose it’s probably good for a lot of people’s sense of perspective to see an American-made Alamo-type story where the US are the imperialist heavies rather than the freedom fighters (even if nobody seems to be taking it as such.) Still, something about the naked adoration this film displays for its suicidal warriors against Western modernity struck a discordant tone with me.

In short, I thought the movie goes only half the distance — it makes the West morally ambiguous without doing anything but idolizing the martialistic, traditionalist, and antimodern culture of the samurai. In our time, when the clash between antimodernism and the West seems more pertinent than ever, you’d think a movie like this one wouldn’t find so much to relish about suicide charges against American values. And, while Western modernity undoubtedly has a lot to answer for in Japan, there has to be some sort of irony to the fact that US audiences thrilled to the final scene in the Emperor’s chambers on the same weekend as the 62nd anniversary of Pearl Harbor. Be careful singing the praises of anti-Western martialism, because it may just come back to bite ya.

But, in case you get the wrong idea from my post here, the film is definitely worth seeing. If you see only one movie about Americans in Japan this year, see Lost in Translation. But I’d check this out before Kill Bill. And, in case I didn’t make it clear before, this film’s got ninjas, y’all, ninjas.

This Film is On.

As an hour’s distraction, I’ve created a central clearinghouse for movie reviews on GitM and added it to the sidebar at left. Unfortunately, some of the older ones (written during the hand-coded Geocities days) may be hard to find, but they’re in there…somewhere. I’ll also probably try to reconstruct the 10-point ratings at some point, but that’s an improvement for another day.

Pacific Heights.

So I caught Peter Weir’s Master and Commander last night and, if you have little trouble discerning the differences among a gaggle of grubby British salts (One looks like Eric Idle, another talks like Captain McAllister, and who knew Pippen was coxswain material?) and don’t go in expecting the action-fiesta promised in the ads, you should come out satisfied. Like pretty much all of Weir’s other films, Commander is an extremely competent piece of work, in some ways even masterful. And, while Crowe’s Captain “Lucky Jack” Aubrey is yet another variation of the strong, silent type he’s done several times elsewhere, he nevertheless commands attention and seems plausible as the glue that holds the creaky H.M.S. Surprise together.

I’d never read any of the Patrick O’Brian novels, so I can’t attest to the movie’s literary veracity. But the historical details seemed right to my landlubber’s eye, and I thought the languid, episodic pacing of the film — which some may find boring, particularly after Jack Sparrow’s romp earlier in the year — helped to convey the rhythm of life at sea in the Napoleonic era, when it took forever and a day to get from place to place. Speaking of which, there’s not all that much suspense about where the film’s going — like the crew of the Surprise, you can see the destination long before Commander gets there. But most of the detours, from the woeful tale of an accursed Jonah to the pre-Darwinian excursions in the Galapagos, are gripping in their own way. In the end, I left Master and Commander feeling like I’d sat through a longer film, but also feeling that I’d traveled somewhere. And while I doubt Commander will spawn many sea epic sequels, nor do I think I’d want to see this film again anytime in the very near future, kudos go out to Peter Weir & crew for making a picture as engrossing and transporting as this one.

But We Wants it Now, Preciouss!


So the main reason it’s been so quiet around here this week is that, through a fanboy nation connection that shall remain safely anonymous, I’ve managed to procure a copy of the Two Towers Extended Edition two weeks before its release date. The rest of this post is going to involve considerable spoilers, so if you don’t want to know, just skip on down to the next entry.

The film: As in the longer Fellowship, the additional 43 minutes of the extended Two Towers mostly offers new character beats (for example, as in FOTR:EE, hobbits now act more like hobbits) and a more languid pacing in various locales (such as the Dead Marshes, where new footage helps lend the feeling that it’s not just a hop-skip-jump from the Emyn Muil to the Black Gate.) And as with FOTR, I think after a few viewings that almost all of the inclusions help the film — in fact, some even seem necessary.

What exactly is new, you may ask? Well, I don’t want to give away everything, but both the beginning and the end of the film have been extensively reworked. Frodo and Sam now spend more time lost in the Emyn Muil, using Galadriel’s rope to climb down a jagged rock face, looking gloomy in the rain, and exchanging a Shire moment over a little box carried by Sam (I had hoped that it might be full of seedlings and dirt, but alas, it’s just salt.) Smeagol and Gollum get into it earlier now too, arguing over whether to honor an oath made on the precious. And we see more of Merry and Pippen’s Uruk-Hai captors, and why they turn on each other so quickly at the borders of Fangorn (The reason in the book is alluded to but not specifically stated.)

As for the end, the inclusion to Helm’s Deep noted here is indeed present. Also, Merry and Pip indulge in some Flotsam and Jetsam-style pipeweed shenanigans, and Faramir sends off Frodo, Sam, and Smeagol with a word of warning about the caverns near Cirith Ungol (This last part is troubling to me, actually, since it occurs before Gollum talks about her. Of course, Gollum’s had the plan all along – perhaps he’s just letting Smeagol know in the final scene. Still, Faramir’s comment seems like premature foreshadowing.)

In between, there are a number of small and moderate changes along the way. Faramir is fleshed out more — word has been out for awhile about his flashback scene with Boromir and Denethor, and he also gets to ruminate on the death of a Southron, as in the book. Those who found his characterization jarring in the theatrical release, however, will probably still feel that way — particularly after you see what the Men of Gondor do to Gollum on Faramir’s watch. Over on the Rohan side of the Anduin, Theodred’s death is given more dramatic weight, and Eowyn is given some nice character beats — one in which she complains about getting cooped up in the Glittering Caves, another where she stumbles onto Aragorn’s real age (87, important because it establishes Aragorn as being not only Numenorean but also between worlds…he’s too old for Eowyn and too young for Arwen.) Finally, fans of the Ents will be greatly enthused by the Extended Edition — there’s several more scenes involving Treebeard & co., and one very nice nod to the Old Forest of Tom Bombadil that really should’ve made the original cut.

As for me, my favorite inclusion at the moment is two scenes involving Gandalf (one of which was featured prominently in the original 4-minute preview and the TTT video game.) I thought these two scenes — where Gandalf discusses his broader strategy against Sauron and Saruman’s machinations (something notably missing in the theatrical release) — helped to tie the first two films together and passed along information that seems absolutely crucial to non-readers of the trilogy.

The Extras: Owners of the extended Fellowship won’t be all that surprised by what’s on the second set of discs — exactly the type of well-made, in-depth documentaries that we’ve come to expect. What may be most interesting here are the claims by multiple people that the post-production on TTT was a “nightmare,” the most stressful point in the entire making of the trilogy. I haven’t watched nearly all the extra stuff yet, but some of the enthralling discoveries made so far include:

  • Small glimpses of RotK footage, including a nice pan over Cirith Ungol in the Tolkien documentary and unfinished footage of Gandalf & co. approaching Isengard in the book-to-script video. Update: Footage which, as it turns out, they might as well have kept in Towers after hearing this shocking revelation about who’s been cut from the theatrical release of RotK. Trust PJ and all that, but still…this is bad news. I wonder how they’ll manage to introduce Pippen and the palantir now.

  • Intriguing discussion (by Tom Shippey and others) on the Dead Marshes as indicative of Tolkien’s memory of WWI battlefields.

  • The revelation that a longer Gandalf-Balrog battle, including an underwater fight and the Endless Stair, was stripped out due to CGI “budgetary constraints” (Budgetary constraints? Are you kidding me? C’mon, y’all, you’ll make it back.)

  • Lots of funny and/or revealing interactions between members of the cast, including Viggo Mortensen’s penchant for painful head butts at inappropriate times, a Serkis-Astin feud at the Black Gate involving a hobbit wig, and the bicycle seat torture inflicted by Misters Monaghan and Boyd by a colossal Treebeard puppet.

  • A honest discussion about the changes made from book to script for the Two Towers, one that explicitly notes fanboy discontent over Faramir’s shift and Arwen’s early role at Helm’s Deep. (Apparently, Liv Tyler cried after reading snide comments about “Liv Tyler, Warrior Princess” all over a fan site — most likely AICN, since that used to be posted all over the place there.)

  • A fascinating look at Elijah Wood in evil, Gollum-like make-up, from a deleted scene which would have occurred in the supply cave, after Frodo snatches the ring away from Faramir’s sword.

  • The Gollum acceptance speech at the MTV Movie Awards, occupying the Easter Egg spot where the Buffy ‘n’ Black Council of Elrond parody resided on FotR.

The Upshot: All in all, as with Fellowship, the extended Two Towers DVD includes a better, richer film loaded with tons of fascinating extras. If you’re a fan, I’m sure you’re getting it anyway…but if you’re a casual Rings admirer, the TTT:EE is just as worth picking up as the FOTR:EE. And they look great together on the shelf.

Now, does anyone out there have tix to an advance screening of Return of the King…?

Attack of the Clone.


UGH. Well, the keyboard just fell to the ground and I lost a really long Matrix: Revolutions review in one errant keystroke. As Neo might say, “Whoa.” So here we go again…Spoilers to follow throughout.

Like most of the fanboy world, I checked out Revolutions on Wednesday and, well, I guess Andrew O’Hehir of Salon might’ve said it best: It “isn’t a terrible movie, but it is a tremendous disappointment.” (Many people I’ve spoken to think that even this proclamation is being charitable.) As y’all may or may not remember, I actually liked The Matrix: Reloaded, and forgave it many of its considerable faults (the interminable first forty minutes in Zion, for example), because I assumed that much of the drier, talkier scenes were necessary for setting the stage for the final installment. And I thought that the Architect scene that closed Reloaded also opened many intriguing doors that promised future mind-bending plot twists in Revolutions.

But, sadly, Revolutions capitalizes on barely any of this promise. Instead the Wachowski, um, siblings give us a closing chapter that is almost breathtaking in its inanity. For one, much of the time spent in Reloaded making the Merovingian (Lambert Wilson), Persephone (Monica Bellucci), and for that matter, the phase-shifting albino twins (“We are getting very aggravated”) decently compelling adversaries seems to have been completely wasted. None of Merv’s existential menace or Persephone’s prophetic allure comes to anything here — instead, they’re used as throwaway devices to set up an exchange in a goofy S&M joint which I suppose is meant to approximate Hell but comes off more like the Prague nightclub in Blade 2. As with the characters, so with the plot twists — Virtually every one of the intriguing questions dropped at the end of Reloaded (multiple Matrices, Neo’s real world powers) are either completely left by the wayside or just accepted by the story — Neo has powers in the Real World now because he does. Hmm, that’s not that interesting. It eventually seems that the only point of the film’s first half-hour (aside from the introduction of karmic programs, which I’ll get to later) is to rectify the Neo-in-a-coma cliffhanger of Reloaded, a cliffhanger that ends up having little or nothing to do with the trilogy’s main arc.

Speaking of the main arc, I’d think even the most rabid Matrix fanatics out there have to admit that almost all of the fanfic endings to Revolutions turned out to be more intriguing and well-thought-out than the real thing. Now I don’t have a problem with the peace treaty aspect of the conclusion – after watching the Animatrix prequels, that seemed almost inevitable. But, as J. Hoberman noted in a mixed-positive review, what we end up with here is one-part Christ allegory (perhaps Mel Gibson should’ve taken the role), one-part Return of the King, with Neo and Trinity rushing to Mordor before the White City falls. There are no interesting permutations to this formula along the way, no Matrix-like plot twist to take the film up a notch — instead Revolutions just grinds along inexorably to its rote conclusion. It would’ve been well nigh impossible for the Wachowskis to match the shock of Neo’s pod awakening in the first Matrix, but I think they could’ve approximated something along the lines of the Architect scene if they’d just tried a little harder.

Moreover, Revolutions as written fails to engage us in the characters we’ve been following along the way. One of the main three is reduced to little more than a Nien Nunb impression, while another dies (slowly) in what amounts basically to a Keymaker-like chauffeuring mission. Instead, we spend most of the movie watching the exploits of a Zion filled with uninvolving stock character tropes — the can-do kid, the grizzled sergeant, the take-no-guff officer, the scrappy girlfriend — take your pick. Frankly, the Wachowskis should be ashamed at the depths of cliche wallowed in here, in both the dialogue and the characters. Just grisly stuff.

So why, after all these issues, am I still giving Reloaded a 2-star (6/10) review? Well, for one, I guess I am a sucker for big sci-fi spectacle, and the Zion invasion sequence does undoubtedly make for some compelling eye candy. It’d have been nice if the machines had relied on a variety of military mechs rather than just the ubiquitous Squiddies, but they are kinda creepy, and I did like the moment when they pour out of the dock breach like the blooming of a poisonous rose. And then there’s Agent Smith, who as per usual steals scenes every time he opens his mouth — His scene with the Oracle may be the high point of the film. Hugo Weaving (and Ian Bliss’s wicked Weaving impression) deserve high marks for bringing the type of grade-b, meglomaniacal fun to the table that this ponderous film so often needs (More Joe Pantoliano would’ve benefited both sequels too, I should think.) Alas, the rain battle between Smith and Neo at the end of the film also feels like a bust. It’s never as engaging as their fracas at the end of the first Matrix, and it definitely could have benefited from more Superman stylings (punching through buildings, swinging streetlamps like baseball bats, etc.)

But I’m trying to accentuate the positive here. I did enjoy the Philosophy 102 lectures, even if they also seem inserted in as usual. To add to the existential and behaviorist disquisitions of Reloaded, we now have an emotive program discoursing on karma (also one of the better moments of the film) and Smith making a case for nihilism. You could read Neo’s final fate as representing the necessity of all philosophies to grapple with the inevitability of death, although it seems more pertinent to explain it as simple messiah martyrdom, given all the throwing around of words like “faith” and “belief” through the film. (The kid’s “I believe in Neo!”, for example…ugh.) Actually, trying to interpret the ending of the film brings me to my biggest problem with Revolutions: the movie turned out to be so pedestrian in its execution that it almost undercuts the intellectual legitimacy of the earlier films.

Put another way, while I think David Denby should be taken to task for the ridiculous snobbishness exposed in his Revolutions review (Denby writes that it is “far too late to bemoan the obvious truth that…college-educated gents, and millions of others like them, will spend many hours debating the apocalypse as revealed by the Brothers Wachowski but would die before reading a single story by Chekhov or Cheever dealing with the sensual and spiritual quandaries of ordinary people“), the film does suggest that much of the philosophical ruminations on the meaning of the Matrix trilogy may have been misplaced when the writer-directors are so glib and ham-handed as to finish it off with a mighty dollop of Christ-figure bathos, a sunset, and a little girl.

In sum, while the intriguing but flawed Reloaded suggested that the Wachowskis were going to swing for the fences in the final installment, ultimately it seemed that — action spectacle aside — they were content to settle for a bunt. Boo hiss.

The Talented Ms. Ripley.

Also caught the director’s cut of Alien this past week. The film hasn’t changed much, but after all, why should it? It did look and sound great (especially in the digital theater I was in.) Check it out – once you get past the A v. P trailer, you’ll be in for a scary good time.

Secret Agent Man.

So I caught The Station Agent the other night and, while it’s not the type of film that’ll set the world on fire, it is an eminently enjoyable rumination on loneliness, friendship, and trains. (As such, it was also a movie worth seeing at the Angelika, since for once the omnipresent subway sounds below the theater added to the film experience.)

The Station Agent works best when it lets its three main characters — a distant (and distinctly short) train-enthusiast (Peter Dinklage), a divorced artist (Patricia Clarkson), and a gregarious food-vendor (the scene-stealing Bobby Cannavale) — hang out and get to relish each other’s company despite themselves. In these scenes, the movie has a nice, unforced air and a great sense of wit about it.

The train derails in the second half, however, when Agent feels the need to introduce dramatic tension by foisting “real life problems” on this funny trio…almost all of which come across as forced. (This is also the point in the film when the don’t-pick-on-little-persons consciousness-raising comes to the fore and, well, frankly I think I’m part of the problem. There’s a key scene where Dinklage ties one on at a local bar, jumps onto the counter, and angrily denounces the staring eyes all about him, and all I could think was “Wow, this is just like Bree…I wonder if Dinklage should’ve played Frodo.”) At any rate, despite the stock emotional issues wedged into the second act, the film ends well, returning to the low-key, believable, and funny tone of friendship that dictated the first hour, and all in all, The Station Agent makes for a good time at the movies. If nothing else, it’s worth catching on The Sundance Channel in a few months.

Cry Me a River.

So I caught Mystic River the other night and, with its crisp, no-nonsense direction and a glut of extraordinary performances (I liked everyone but Laura Linney, who — like Jeremy Davies — always comes across as overly mannered to me), it pretty much has to be considered an Oscar contender. Sean Penn, Kevin Bacon, and especially Tim Robbins all disappear into their meaty roles, while a mousy Marcia Gay Harden and a large-and-in-charge Lawrence Fishburne (Morpheus, dude, lay off the bacon) provide excellent supporting work. Sure, there are elements of the movie that bugged me – For one, I thought the conceit with Kevin Bacon’s silent wife was just plain goofy. (Can you hear me now? Good!) For another, the pieces of the murder mystery are all in place before the wheel of Fate grinds to its inexorable conclusion, so there’s a good ten-twenty minutes there where you’re just waiting for the characters to do what it is they have to do.

All in all, though, I thought Mystic River was a film well-worth seeing, one with well-developed, multifaceted characters and a strong, rooted sense of place. (Naturally, I was reminded of the months I spent in Somerville.) It seems people are running hot and cold on the fifteen minute coda at the end of the film — Linney’s speech aside, I actually liked it, and thought Harden’s last few moments (and the parade echoing the first scene of the film) were kinda chilling. As Sean, Jimmy, and Dave all note, one could easily imagine a Twilight Zone episode where the lives of the three main characters were switched, depending on which of them was forced to become “the boy who escaped from wolves.” To paraphrase the son of an altogether different neighborhood, sometimes the world is a monster, bad to swallow you whole.