Film is Pwn

I recently saw a great little independent film called Following.  Generally I tend to avoid independent flicks because, quite frankly, they generally fall into one of three categories: Pretentious, amateurish, or crap.   But, every so often, there comes one that’s different, intriguing, inventive, and the sign of greatness.  Darren Arrenofsky’s Pi comes to mind, as does Primer.  Today’s subject, Following, was the feature debut of Christopher Nolan, so it shouldn’t be a big surprise that it falls into the rare category of great indy film.

In my view, Nolan’s decade (from 2000-2009) is better than any other director working.  In that time he’s given us Memento (my all-time favorite film), Insomnia (underrated Al Pacino-Robin Williams thriller), Batman Begins (revitalized the dying franchise with a brilliant flick), The Prestiege (superb mind-bender featuring Hugh Jackman and Christian Bale as rival magicians), and the Dark Knight (’nuff said).  Nolan’s next movie is Inception starring Leonardo Dicaprio, the movie I’m most looking forward to this Summer. (more…)

I saw Moon last night.  Not THE Moon of course, that would require looking out the window at nighttime, and I am far too timid for such a bold action. No, I refer to director Duncan Jones’ 2009 science fiction movie of the name, “Moon.” (more…)

Starring: Steve Zahn, Milla Jovovich, Timothy Olyphant, Kiele Sanchez
Directed By: David Twohy

A Perfect Getaway is the kind of thriller where you just know there is going to be a twist ending.  The way my mind works, when I suspect a shocking twist is afoot, I can guess what it is going to be 94.7% of the time.  When you’re playing the “who’s the killer” game, generally it is as simple as  picking the individual the movie wants you to suspect the least.  For an example of how this ending can make you so mad you’ll want to find the screenwriter and sternly wag your finger in his direction, see my review of Halle Berry/Bruce Willis’ cinematic abomination Perfect Stranger.

I ended up liking A Perfect Getaway more than enough to recommend it as a “renter,” so I’m going to be rather vague and unspecific so as not to spoil aforementioned twist. Although if you are unable to guess the twist based off the following description and my assurance that there is a twist, I will be forced to ban you from this site forever. Be warned, be warners: (more…)

Starring: Morgan Freeman, Matt Damon, Tony Kgoroge, Patrick Mofokeng
Directed By: Clint Eastwood

I can unequivocally say that Invictus is now officially my all-time favorite Rugby movie ever. (more…)

Heartbreak Ridge is one of the often overlooked and neglected Clint Eastwood movies, and not for no reason.  It’s not great enough to pop up on any “best movie” lists — or even top ten Clint flicks – but it’s good enough to be watched and play in endless rotation on a movie channel like AMC. If you’ll forgive a digression, AMC ought to be forced to change their moniker from something other than American Movie Classics after recently being caught red-handed airing Halle Berry’s Catwoman.  When you let “Catwoman” in the door as a “classic,” what movie can’t be considered a classic? Can Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus be far behind?

There’s a lot working for Heartbreak Ridge, one being director and star Clint Eastwood.  Eastwood rarely makes movies that aren’t either “darn good” or  “a lot of fun,” although I should note that I have yet to see any movies where he co-starred with a monkey.  Just a note on that note: I have no intention of EVER seeing any of those Eastwood monkey movies, as I have maintained my respect for him even after seeing him singing with Lee Marvin. (more…)

I would like to recommend this little independent film recently brought to my attention by the name of Primer, but I’m not sure if I possess the mental acumen to do it proper justice. (more…)

One of the lamest, most frustrating contrivances that filmmakers pull out of their hat is the “It’s just a dream” twist.  It’s a rather cheap gimmick where you can have the villain kill off the hero or the heroes girlfriend and then, suddenly, the hero wakes up! *Phew* It was just a dream.  Any movie that shows you a particular series of events and then has the audacity to tell the audience it did not occur risks riots in the theater.

There is no “dream” sequence in director Bryan Singer’s the Usual Suspects, but, without revealing too much, the movie takes incredible liberties with its narrative.  I’ve seen the movie from beginning to end eight times or more, and it’s a matter of debate and interpretation exactly what happens to who and when.  For a lesser film, this would likely be infuriating.  But the Usual Suspects is so exceptional in conception, acting, and execution, in this case I don’t mind the muddle ambiguity,  In fact, I love it.  (Please, Hollywood, this kind of story telling works much better as the exception and not the rule.  Don’t overdo it.  This means you, M. Night Shyamalan!)
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Walking into the theatre, press pass dangling around my neck and garnering stares and questioning glances, New York Lately was exactly the type of movie I hoped for and expected. Don’t take that to mean that it was good. This is a Film Festival, having never been to one, I sat in anticipation imagining what it would be like. I pondered my lack of skinny jeans and ironic t-shirts; both of which would no doubt be uniform for the event. Then I imagined the type of movie a person wearing skinny jeans and an ironic t-shirt would make.

I’m not making fun of this as much as it might seem. I wish I was cool enough to wear skinny jeans and clever enough to have ironic t-shirts, but instead I just wear normal jeans and a button down shirt. I wished I had shaved to have cool facial hair of some sort, but alas I had to just be me. Then as we arrived and looked around, I didn’t see a single pair of skinny jeans, and since most everyone was in a uniform for the festival the ironic t-shirts had been left in the closet. I was acceptable.

Interestingly New York Lately was still much the type of movie I imagined those non-existent stereotypes would produce. It was along the vein of movies like Babel and Magnolia. It’s the story of several people whose lives intertwine in some intricate way to produce a story that paints the picture of modern life with its connections and isolation. The problem is that few of these characters seemed real and the stories didn’t really intertwine at all. So it was more like the make-believe stories of disjointed people.

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Bronson is the story of a man. A man completely detached from the realities of the world and what it means to be human. He’s not nice, good or really evil in the typical sense of the word. What he does is evil but to him it appears that it’s nothing more than a game, a foray into the woods rather than being the very real actions with tangible consequences that they are.

I don’t believe I’ve enjoyed watching a movie more in a very long time. It seems clear to me that Director Nicolas Winding Refn had a clear vision when he chose to venture into this film. He was determined and he pulled together an outstanding cast and crew to see it into fruition. Tom Hardy as “England’s most violent criminal” is spot-on. His performance is dark and menacing, without remorse and completely insane. Exactly the type of man I rather imagine Bronson to be. There is no sanity to this film. No character to stabilize you. You feel constantly at odds against the main character, much, I imagine, like the prison guards must have felt these thirty years.

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I had a very different review of New York Lately planned in my head as the closing credits rolled.  This was the first narrative film I’d seen at the Charlotte Film Festival, and I wasn’t impressed.  It was a full length feature, a notch above student films, but much of the cast looked like they were film student buddies of the director or struggling actors who happened to be available that week and were willing to work for half a Subway sandwich.  A couple performers stood above the rest (Mark DiConzo, Susan Cagle, and that’s the list), a couple scenes had some genuinely interesting moments, and I think I chuckled twice (this is a romantic-comedy-drama, or, as we with Press passes at film festivals say, a “rom-com-dram”.)

New York Lately is about a bunch of disparate, loosely connected New Yorkers falling out of love, falling in love, and looking for love.  There are familiar archetypes, like the two coffeehouse girls, one trying to become an actress and the other trying to become a singer; there’s the disaffected office worker who’s afraid his job — firing people, it seems — has sucked the soul out of him; there’s the guy whose girlfriend wants time apart, and he is torn between winning her back and moving on.
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Bronson.  It’s an independent movie skillfully and artfully made.  Tom Hardy, looking like a true Haberdasher, plays the titular Bronson — based on the real life story of Britain’s most notorious and expensive — and is brilliant.  If someone were to talk Best Actor for Mr. Hardy, I couldn’t disagree; it’s a brave, bold, menacing performance. 

The director makes some stylistic choices with Bronson, in his mind, putting on a campy stage show to an enraptured audience where he gets to explain his sick, perverse outlook on life.   There are other more serious moments where Bronson speaks to the camera directly as if in a confessional, where the nutjob is about as lucid about his madness as possible.  I thought they worked and were interesting.

And I utterly detested the movie.  I can’t fathom why a talented group of men and women would willingly conspire to write, produce, cast, direct, and perform the material.  I derived no entertainment value from the experience and I would strongly encourage any caring human being to keep clear of theaters screening Bronson with a 30 mile radius, just to make sure they don’t accidentally wander into one of the showings by mistake.  If there is a scientist who intends to show Bronson to criminally, clinically insane lab rats to gauge their reaction, I would gladly stand shoulder-to-shoulder with those loons from PETA to protest cruelty to animals.
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In the last few weeks, I’ve watched a lot of really, really bad movies, so it is nice to blog on a movie I greatly enjoy and admire for a change. I am writing about a film based on a novel whose author himself considered his material “unfilmable” when he sold the movie rights.

It’s not just a 1950s Los Angeles crime story being told in 1997, it is a complicated, intricate plot that is almost impossible to follow.  The three lead characters the story follows are cops who are loosely connected and are initially unlikeable for different reasons (one smug, the other overly ambitious, the other prone to bursts of violence).  Two of said lead characters are portrayed by virtual unknowns from Australia (both are playing 100% pure bred American police officers).  The only significant female cast member is playing the cliche hooker with a heart of gold.  There’s enough plot and characters (with 80 speaking parts in the cast) to fill an eight hour mini-series, but the film crams it all into a movie at under two hours and fifteen minutes.  Oh, and did I mention Danny Devito has a major supporting role?

if you take all those various elements and put them together, one would expect an absolute mess.  What you get is, against all the odds, a masterpiece. (more…)