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Reviews
Jesus Camp (2006)
Jesus tap-dancing Camp
I had my very first job interview ever last December for a summer camp I attended for six years as a child; it was a Christian camp, but that was nowhere near the main focus- I was there to be with friends, to play dodgeball, and to sing a few songs during chapel, if I wanted to. It was tolerant, fun, and peaceful. The first question in my interview, however, was, "what would I say to God if I found myself standing before him this instant?" The follow-up was, "do you interpret the Bible literally?" Needless to say, the interview went downhill from there.
I found out later (after I took a job at a non-religious summer camp), that the camp I had known was gone- it had been bought out and turned into a "Jesus Camp," much like the camp "Kids on Fire" in the documentary, where children are sent away for the summer by their fundamentalist parents (who, ironically, homeschool their children because they believe they should be the ones teaching them and not some stranger) to become self-proclaimed "Warriors of Christ." I'm reminded of George Carlin's line in Dogma about how he wishes the church could "hook 'em while they're young" as well as the tobacco industry.
Directors Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady obviously wanted to make these people look maladjusted, but they didn't have to swing their bias too far to do so. They capture several cringe-worthy moments both at and away from the camp, such as children watching an informational video in which an animated dinosaur tells that it's silly to believe in evolution or global warming. Later, they are shown models of fetuses and told that they could have had a lot more friends if only the evil women of the world didn't get abortions. And as for Harry Potter? Well, let's just say the kids tend to shy away from a kid at the camp who looks like him.
The camp is led by Becky Fischer, and yes, it is scary to hear her talk. When we're alone with her, she tells us how she wants the same mentality in her "warriors" as Muslims have when they're given hand grenades and told to die for God. She claims that the children love the camp and her, but the red, tear-stained faces of the children during many of her sermons tell a different story: these kids are scared to death, afraid of being cast away and condemned, and not given any option except to listen to someone tell them that unless they completely and totally devote themselves to this they will burn in hellfire forever. At first it may just be an act so that the grown-ups won't get mad, but soon the ideas of the likes of Fischer and Ted Haggard, who makes a frightening guest appearance, start making sense. There's a word for this: brainwashing.
The downside to the film comes in Ewing and Grady's lack of a counterpoint, as they contrast the fanaticism of Fischer's camp with only about five minutes of liberal radio host Mike Papantonio's tirades against such organizations. While he berates the religious right and the lack of separation between church and state, the "Kids on Fire," bow to a cardboard cutout of George W. Bush for being so openly Christian. The film climaxes with a conversation between Fischer and Papantonio, but it doesn't amount to much more than an exchange of a little mild language- personally, I would've loved to see her protesting outside an abortion clinic or a Democratic rally with her army of zombie-children cheering her on.
We learn that born-agains and evangelicals make up a significant voting block and definitely have the ability to swing an election; we hear the kids being taught how the earth is only 6,000 years old and that anyone who disagrees hates Jesus; and we watch in horror as children have their mouths taped shut to somehow teach them a lesson about life. The film has gotten what it came for: we hate the adults and feel sorry for the kids. But there is hope: IMDb.com says that the response to the film led to an angry outcry against Fischer and her ilk, and the eventual shut-down of the camp for an indefinite period of time. Hallelujah.
The Mist (2007)
"Mist" the Point
I had a 5-hour layover in Hartford recently, during which time I purchased Cheddar Chex-Mix, Grape flavored Dasani water, and a paperback of Stephen King's "The Mist," which I enjoyed thoroughly, as I do with most King books. He paces his action well enough that the jolts of excitement and terror come at just the right moments in increasing ferocity until he reaches a mind-blowing climax and a fitting conclusion.
So, naturally I was eager to see Frank Darabont's adaptation, having seen nothing but good things from this talented screenwriter/director. And yet, I come back from the theater disappointed, something I was praying not to be in the times between the action sequences. I did like the movie and audiences will too, but my opinion of it sank like a rock during the last five minutes; the ending was completely botched.
But onto the good: After a storm for the record books, in which trees fell on and through houses, David Drayton (Thomas Jane) and his son take a trip to the supermarket to pick up supplies, bringing his not-so-neighborly neighbor Brent Norton (Andre Braugher) along and noting the unusual mist forming over the lake, coming ever closer...
And then, as promised, we get the monsters. They come in droves, of all shapes and sizes, inspired by the creepy-crawlies that haunt children's dreams and their parents' pantries. Though sometimes the CGI seems out of place, most of the time it works quite well, and sometimes what we do not see is much scarier, as the mist only allows about five feet of visibility. It is a most impressive mist, flowing just unnaturally enough to make one uneasy about breathing, touching, or even looking at it.
Even more impressive than that, however, are the performances. All of the characters seem genuine in their motivations as they go from confused to scared, panicked to fanatic. Norton's denial of the entire situation seems a little contrived, but I'll forget that in a heartbeat when I see the religious insanity of Mrs. Carmody (Marcia Gay Harden), which translates so well from the book that what sympathy I felt for David and his posse I felt double in hatred for her.
So, good performances, great story, nice special effects, terrible ending. I would not dream of ruining either this film or the book for anyone, although those who have read the book will find a reference to the ending in the first paragraph of this review, but I will say this: King concludes his novella with a self-described "Hitchcock Ending," one fitting enough to satisfy an audience but still open to interpretation, aka "The Birds." Now, however, Darabont feels the need to tie everything together, and with the sacrifice of that conclusion, the movie is left without a point. Looking back, though, the movie works as a whole, but I wish that I had walked out about five minutes earlier.
Shoot 'Em Up (2007)
Shoot 'Em Up, Take 'Em Down.
I love going to the movies with low expectations; if I am right, then at least I had enough foresight to prepare for the worst, but if I am wrong, then the experience of a great movie is all the more entertaining since I was not expecting it. Case in point, Shoot 'Em Up: I was absolutely blown away by this movie.
Then again, how could I not be? Writer/director Mike Davis has done such an amazing job combining a little plot with a lot of extremely stylized action and just enough bad CGI blood to create a relentlessly fun orgy of guns, sex, and superficial political interpretations. Oh, and laughs; God, are there laughs. Take, for instance, an early scene, in which the cause of a henchman's death is, of all things... ah, go see it yourself.
Contrary to what the title implies, Shoot 'Em Up is not just 87 minutes (honestly, I wanted more) of gunfights. There is a plot, involving the protection of an orphaned baby and the urge of Mr. Smith (Clive Owen, given no real name but so much character) to rid the world of everything he hates. As feeble as it is, I've thought about it and I realize now, with equal shock and glee, that the story works for the movie. What we are left with are well-visualized and executed fight scenes with just enough character development to develop some sympathy and even a brief, if somewhat hypocritical, commentary on, of all things, gun control.
Everything about the film is ridiculous, from Smith's ability to shoot the bad guys, have sex with his female tag-along, and manipulate electronic devices with one hand in two seconds, to the fact that he does many of these things at the same time with the baby cradled in his spare arm. He could have stopped mid-shootout for a cup of coffee, and I would have believed it. Owen as good here as he was in Sin City, probably because he's playing roughly the same character in both films: a well-trained and almost superhuman vigilante trying to make sense of a situation in which he finds himself too deep. He is supported well by Paul Giamatti as the relentless antagonist (Surprise!), and Monica Bellucci as his trusty companion. No one particularly shines, though, because the main stars of the film are the countless bullets and bodies littering the set; who's paying attention to anything else?
Twisted without being repulsive, stylized without being cheesy, and mindless without being insulting, Shoot 'Em Up got my heart pumping and my mouth laughing aloud as I walked from the theater (after a quick shoot-'em-up arcade game, of course). Pondering the experience on my way home, I realized that I have seen better movies in recent months, but none of them pleased me more than this one. Bang Bang.
Happy Feet (2006)
Tappy Feet
To run the list of propaganda-related issues in the new flick "Happy Feet" would take as long as the movie itself, so allow me simply to say that the film is politically oriented towards the far left. Of course, this is to be expected on some degree; most hero-journeys have some liberal affiliation towards tolerance, understanding, and acceptance. Here, however, these messages are not a means to convey a moral but an interference into the otherwise charming tale.
So what's to like? Don't worry, a lot. As we have come to expect by the sudden upsurge in animation quality, the penguins and their environment are becoming more and more realistic, and here in particular the attention to detail shines. Some nice examples are long, mobile shots of penguins swimming, sliding, and falling around the icy Antarctic landscapes while completely ignoring the laws of physics. As long as we have an omniscient camera, these wild rides through computer imagery are a treat.
But there is a trick to it, which was meant to be a sly stylistic move but instead cheapens the film's climax, of all things: humans, who do make appearances, are shown in live action. At first, I believed them just to be a superb example of the already stellar CGI, but no, says IMDb.com, they are real people, and they don't belong here.
Thankfully, the live-action humans are not shown with the penguins, but in the segments most packed with the aforementioned propaganda. Here, the range of narration shifts away from the penguins, so rather than following the struggles of our protagonists, who are designed to appeal to children for their rebellious and individualistic natures, we get grown- ups in authority dealing with grown-up issues. This shift is so abrupt and unexpected that I fear some may be confused as to what happened to the penguins. Well, at least for that segment, they're gone.
I haven't discussed plot very much in this review, probably because it has all been done before. Mumble (voice of Elijah Wood) dances instead of singing and thus deserves exile from the colony, as in "Footloose," finds acceptance with a gang of outsiders led by Robin Williams, as in "Robots," and must combat indifferent humans to save his family, bring unity to his community, and get the the girl, Gloria (Voice of Brittany Murphy, who does her own impressive singing), as in every Joseph Campbell story. Even the characters are familiar, at least to anyone who has seen "March of the Penguins." Thankfully, plot comparisons to the latter movie are limited.
Again, don't worry; "Happy Feet" borrows the best points from every movie mentioned in the previous paragraph and combines them into an okay family film. It may not be original, but it does shine for its adherence to its roots as a traditionally entertaining animated feature with a few adult-oriented jokes thrown in. My advice? Forget political affiliation or age-appropriation and see the film, if only to watch thousands of penguins doing the wave. Sweet.
Man of the Year (2006)
It's been a Decent Year
In Dead Poet's Society, Robin Williams was funny when he broke into what could only be described as his usual self; otherwise, he maintained a serious expression and let solemnity flow forth. Now, with Man of the Year, he has the same trick going for him, but with purpose. He plays a comedian, so we expect the impressions and the toilet humor and the costumes. It's who he is in person and in character, unlike Dead Poet's Society, where some of his impromptu humor feels out of place for an English teacher.
However, the films do share the common ground of being more about serious and sometimes macabre situations over comedy. Man of the Year may have looked rich with jokes and liveliness in the trailers, but none of the comedy really pertains to the plot. Instead, the laughs work on the level they are presented to us: Stand-up comedy routines. Outside of this, there are too few examples of irony or situational humor to make this a comedy; in fact, for the last half hour, there's actually quite an element of suspense.
From chronological clues hidden around the film, the plot unfolds as such: Tom Dobbs, a successful political comedian ala Jon Stewart (who is alluded to several times but never actually appears), decides to run for president in 2004 as a publicity stunt. He shatters debate decorum, refuses to campaign, and ends up winning, or so he thinks. A new computerized voting system, Delacroy, incorrectly calculates Dobbs as the winner, but only Delacroy employee Eleanor Green (Laura Linney) is aware of it. From this point, the movie shifts into a political thriller: Green wants to expose the truth, Delacroy wants to hide it, and Dobbs... well, he's just caught in the middle, looking as though he's unsure of what movie he's stumbled into.
Not surprisingly, the film is stylistically great. Writer/director Barry Levinson has shot the film in such a way that it almost preserves itself. Characters are framed on opposite ends of the shot quite frequently during scenes with rapid dialog to emphasize the distance between them, which will make creating a coherent full-frame DVD difficult at times. Lighting is key as well; evil characters are dimly lit from below while the good guys are shown in the spotlight. There's appropriate pacing, a good soundtrack, decent continuity, et cetera et cetera, but these are the concerns of an undergrad film student; where is the content, the inspiration, the impact?
And what are we left with? Not what we were promised, that's for sure, but the end product is not a disappointment. Inconsistency runs rampant, though, as the film shuffles between comedy and thriller, but there are no new warnings about that. Maybe it's Levinson's way of telling us that we could be worse off with someone like Dobbs in office who never really wanted the job, or maybe he's praising us for not actually electing him. In any case, it's a movie of the entertaining variety. Man, what a year.
Snakes on a Plane (2006)
A Pizza with no Toppings: Just Plane Cheese.
Perhaps the highly anticipated horror-comedy "Snakes on a Plane" should have been titled "Snakes that Bite in Weird Places." I know nothing of the venom-pumping preferences of any species of reptile, but I am quite sure that most snakes would not go to the trouble of biting an eye. Or a nipple. Or a... but I have given away too much already.
From the simplicity of the title, there are no delusions about this film; there are snakes, and they are on a plane. There is no underlying symbolism or recurring metaphors or aesthetic inspiration, because we never wanted that. We wanted to be put in a ridiculous yet plausible situation and fight our way out with Samuel L. Jackson as our guide, with what is sure to be one of the most memorable lines of his career.
The insultingly simple nature of the film broadens somewhat with a few specifications: Surfer Sean Jones (Nathan Phillips) witnesses crime boss Eddie Kim (Byron Lawson) commit a murder in Hawaii and entrusts himself to FBI agent Nelville Flynn (Jackson) for protection. Transporting Jones to Los Angeles to testify proves difficult when Pacific Air Flight 121 (A working title for the film) is infested with exotic, poisonous snakes that Kim rigged to be unleashed in the middle of the flight. In a weird way, the explanations for the more bizarre story elements seem to work, such as how a cat's hiss could be confused with a snake's rattle. But since the film never asks us to take it seriously, we have no trouble suspending disbelief.
The comedy element of the film is in full effect, but suspense and jolts are common as well. We tremble when we do not know if the snake will strike, jump when the snake does strike, and laugh at where the snake struck. In some cases, the process continues when we cringe at the ugly after-effects of the venom, owing mainly to the convincing make-up effects used for pus and blood that coats the severely swollen bites. It is so gruesome, so exaggerated, and so gratuitous that it is hilarious.
Those characters of the mammalian persuasion are captivating as well. Since Jackson signed on after reading only the title, we can feel his eagerness to stun us with his presence. The concept alone was enough to spring him into action, and his performance in the actual movie is even more perfect. The crew and passengers of the plane are mainly unknowns, although the minor role of Rick the co-pilot is played by the familiar face of David Koechner, but one performance that stands out more than others is Kenan Thompson as Troy, a bodyguard to a self-absorbed rapper. Since the generation that grew up with Kenan on "All That" and "Kenan and Kel" is old enough to see him in Saturday Night Live and R-rated movies now, this casting decision was a bull's-eye. In one scene, Kenan has to act toe-to-toe with Jackson, and I am glad to say that he holds up. Hearing him swear was odd at first, but then he began to sound like Jackson himself, a sure sign of good things to come.
Aside from one homage to "Aliens" where Jackson arms himself with an improvised flamethrower, "Snakes on a Plane" is its own movie and an exercise in absurd originality. It acknowledges how creepy the actual situation would be and then dismisses care and concern with a laugh. Creature flicks come and go, but none of them will ever have snakes on a plane quite like Snakes on a Plane.
Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby (2006)
Nascar with a Nas-star.
I have been to a grand total of four Nascar races in my lifetime, and all of them have so closely followed the pattern of circle fast, crash, circle slow, and repeat, that the experiences have all run together. The noise is prohibitively loud and crashes are far too rare and not nearly spectacular enough, meaning that the whole reason we are there is the hope that someone will get hurt. The urge is so great that pointing and gasping at nothing will still attract ten thousand faces hoping to see some sparks. It is a destructive atmosphere, and, for millions, it is a lifestyle.
Pitched and picked up in six words, "Will Ferrell as a Nascar driver," Talladega Nights sends up this lifestyle and then some with jokes meant to be satire but that are sometimes unfortunately realistic. I would wager that at some point in Nascar history a driver has obliged to signing a baby's forehead at the request of its mother, as Ferrell does. For those who live outside of Nascar's influence, these jokes ring true due to sheer irony, but any others may find humor in how similar the movie is to the real thing. And how perfect is the name Ricky Bobby for a Nascar driver?
As Bobby, Will Ferrell has perfected his role as the quintessential millionaire driver. His southern accent is flawless, but to be fair it is not that hard to replicate anyway. Beyond his speech, though, is what really makes him perfect for the role. He has the look and the feel of a walking billboard that advertises itself just as much as its sponsors. He exudes arrogance and self-aggrandizement towards everyone he knows, even his dimwitted friend Cal (John Rielly), who will not let Ricky's flair for competition suppress his naturally amicable personality. Even when he unintentionally betrays Ricky, although I will not say how, he cannot grasp the concept of losing his best friend.
Opposing both teammates is French flamer Jean Girard, played superbly by Sacha Baron Cohen of Da Ali G Show. On HBO he has a flair for every one of his many characters, so naturally playing two stereotypes at once is no problem for him. He speaks his lines with a sincerity that rings so true that we laugh at how serious he sounds, such as when he tries cajole Ricky into kissing him with just a touch of desperation in his voice. Whether or not Ricky obliges, I shall not say.
Most of the humor from any source other than Ferrell or Girard does not deserve a second look. The jokes are interchangeable and juvenile profanity that get tired after Ricky's two sons, Walker and Texas Ranger (pun totally intended), go on a rant about their grandfather, which comes across as more pejorative than funny. Specific jokes of this sort, like some from the trailer, are not in the film, such as when Ferrell absent-mindedly flips a bike onto his lawn. The film looks like it was edited in less than a week, though, mainly because it has a simple layout for these jokes: Funny part, plot element, repeat. Sounds like a Nascar race in itself.
Those concerned that all the humor was lost to the trailer, which is one of the most persuasive in years, will not be disappointed. The biggest laugh is always yet to come, and the chaos always stops just before it gets awkward. Ferrell, of course, must find a way to run around half-naked, a recurring motif for many of his films, most notably Old School, but do not let his movie give you the wrong idea about Nascar; no one will ever have this much fun at a race.
Clerks II (2006)
The laughs are for here, the experience is to go.
The original Clerks is a laugh riot of descriptive, inappropriate toilet jokes parodying those who work or shop at convenience stores. Clerks II is basically the same movie, but with plenty more visual aides. Clerks talked about bizarre sexual acts, but Clerks II actually shows us the magic. It is gratuitous, yes, but not uncomfortably so.
The four favorites from Clerks have all returned: Dante (Brian O'Halloran), Randal (Jeff Anderson), Jay (Jason Mewes), and Silent Bob (Kevin Smith). All the characters are so engrossing (sometimes minus the en- and the -ing, such as when Jay lets his body control his dancing) that we savor all of whatever time they grace our presence. Director and writer Kevin Smith wisely leaves in several references and parallels to Clerks because he knows the jokes work. We love seeing Dante struggling in romance, watching Randal arguing with nerds and trekking further into perversion, laughing at Jay believing he can dance, and waiting for Silent Bob to give his invaluable words of wisdom. It just works.
An untold time has passed since the eventful day of Clerks, and a Randal-induced fire has claimed our favorite Jersey Quick-Stop. Randal and Dante, with Jay and Silent Bob in tow, have relocated to Mooby's fast-food. Though the uniforms are slightly degrading, the new environment still offers plenty of chances for customer abuse and playing hookie. Also a perk is the boss, Becky (Rosario Dawson), who fills out a tank top quite nicely. As with Clerks, a complicated love triangle gets drawn between Dante, Becky, and Dante's micromanaging fiancée, Emma (Jennifer Schwalbach), but this time everybody's choices are much more self-oriented; everyone is more certain of what they want.
The look of the film has been changed, of course; 12 years and a significant budget increase allow the film to include color, celebrity cameos, and more professional camera work than one black and white 16mm camera filming the director's friends in their free time. As a result, style over substance is a minor issue in some places, like the random musical number when Dante and Becky dance on the roof of Mooby's. We remember the roof motif from Clerks, but instead of focusing on the rooftop antics, Smith gives us an all-too-choreographed and out of place dance sequence. Any movie can give us a dance, but from a Clerks movie we expect a more original gag.
Otherwise, consummate originality is in high supply. The divide between intelligence and wisdom is clearly marked, and this film favors the latter, making sure everyone eventually knows his or her place in the film's world. It takes a while to figure it out, though, but that is just the fun of the movie, donkeys and manginas aside.
Miami Vice (2006)
Police Brutality
There are no opening credits to Miami Vice, and that is probably for the best, because otherwise we would have a name to put with this mess of a movie. Instead, the movie tries to be clever by launching us headfirst into the plot from frame one, but it goes all too fast and overshoots.
And what I mean is that there is no plot, or at least not one we can care about. In fact, no one in the movie seems to care about it either, which is a disappointment from actors who should be able to hide their apathy. Instead, they trod through the scenes uttering nonsensical dialog in tones so low that sometimes they are unintelligible; they do not care enough to enunciate their lines, and the movie suffers from it.
From the understandable dialog we can piece together a plot that may have looked good on paper: Sonny (Colin Farrell) and Ricardo (Jamie Foxx) penetrate a drug syndicate to catch a radical group that revealed an undercover FBI agent and killed him, his partner, and his family. Along the way, Sonny romances one of his targets, Isabella (Gong Li), who retrogresses without any outside influence from a strong and capable boss-type to an annoyingly pitiful "victim" . She falls in love with the undercover cop, her boss daddy gets angry, and the cliché lives on.
After an hour of minimal entertainment (For the record, there is not a single laugh in the whole movie), we realize that this is not the buddy cop movie that we expected. Sonny and Ricardo are acquaintances, but they appear together so infrequently that they seem to be avoiding each other. Only once does one express confidence in the other's ability as a law enforcer, but the expression changes nothing in either cop's attitude or actions. The movie asks us to split our partiality between both, but they are caught in personalities that we cannot help but abhor.
All the while, it is evident that something is going on plot wise. Unfortunately for the actors, none of the characters seems concerned enough to act logically. Unfortunately for the filmmakers, errors in sound direction drop crucial plot elements from the fragmented story. Unfortunately for the audience, enough people were lured into theaters for it to come in at number one at the box office. That is police brutality.
P.S.: Should Miami Vice not take place primarily in Miami?
Lady in the Water (2006)
Leave her in the Water
Well into the range of mediocrity, M. Night Shyamalan's fifth and least potent attempt at horror barely makes it over the halfway point of decency. "Startling" revelations become tiring and predictable in a plot that is unnecessarily dialog driven and dull. It is not that there are no interesting people in the plot; they are unique enough to earn whatever screen time they get, like a body-builder who only works out his right side "for scientific purposes"; but the whole ordeal seems pointless, and we ask ourselves what good really came from the lady's appearance in the pool?
For some reason, the pool of The Cove apartment complex is shaped like an eye, with its pupil shifted to one side, the lowest point of the deep end. Every night Cleveland Heep, the caretaker of the complex, follows the pool's gaze from his isolated cabin until he notices a water nymph, Story, splashing around at night.Their first face-to-face meeting, though underdeveloped, gives Story a shroud of mystery, like she's hiding a secret just beneath her pale pink lips. It is not so great when we hear it though, but it is good enough for a movie that has no other bullets in its chamber.
Story, as we learn, comes out of a bedtime story, one that the Cove's Choi family has conveniently memorized. The tale is told in small snippets by Young-Soon Choi and her mother to Cleveland throughout the movie. In all honesty, I would have rather heard it all in one scene and then spent the rest of the movie watching it unfold in suspense. Sadly, Shyamalan leaves suspense for what he believes to be a touching relationship between Cleveland and Story; instead, the two remain distant to the point where he will not even enter a room to talk to her and leaves her vulnerable at a crucial moment.
Saving the day is Paul Giamatti as Cleveland and Bryce Dallas Howard as Story. Giamatti lets us feel his frustration at his incredibly realistic stutter and gives us the panic of what little tension there is. The situations, though, are illogical and confusing, and the characters react as though they are taken aback by the sojourns from logic and reason. Howard, for example, jumps between being silent and timid to spouting "secrets" over a walky-talky. She does decent jobs with both, but the combination does not fit her character.
I hope to see more from Shyamalan because I have seen wonders from him. To get future works on their level, I advise he should stop depending on his limited abilities as an actor (though I enjoyed his cameos in Signs and The Village), put more focus on a single character with less outside influence, and, if he wants better reviews, not include direct insults to film critics. Heightened expectations aside, Lady in the Water, like the right-side obsessed body-builder, seems halfway done and not smart at all.
You, Me and Dupree (2006)
Dupressingly Mundane
Marriages can be hypocritical, and the blame always falls on the opposite party. Thus, when a marriage is portrayed in a movie, the protagonist is sometimes hard to identify. This is the case in You, Me, and Dupree, which presents all of its characters at once but gives us no one to root for. Surely they have their positive qualities, but unfortunately they are blindsided by the negative ones.
If one specific character cannot be our favorite, then we must equally support all of them: "You," Kate Hudson's Molly, is betrothed to "Me," Matt Dillon's Carl, who works for his father- in-law, Micheal Douglas' Mr. Thompson (okay, he can be "and"), and is best friends with Owen Wilson's "Dupree." Four principles, no protagonist. We want everyone to be happy, but they're just so hard to like.
Their involvement with each other begins when Dupree moves in with the newly-wed couple of Carl and Molly, who seem reluctant but generous enough to give him shelter for a few nights. Being an unmotivated leech, however, Dupree moves right in and begins making his presence more permanent than Kate and Molly are comfortable with. This sets the scene for some funny moments involving Dupree's befriending of all the neighborhood children, who probably share his intellectual level, but most of the Dupree-jokes involve feces, nudity, or sex, alone or otherwise. Toilet humor or not, it serves to buttress the point that Dupree just is not a likable person.
Lucky, then, that he's not the main focus of the story. That honor goes to Carl, who is simultaneously dealt two difficult situations: Dupree fowling his nest and Mr. Thompson trying to overlord his marriage to Molly, even suggesting that Carl voluntarily sterilize himself. We get the feeling that Mr. Thompson would take pleasure in doing the deed himself.
As I stated before, there is no clear protagonist. Molly waffles between inviting in and kicking out Dupree, Carl has outbursts resulting in physical pain (mostly his), Mr. Thompson is the father-in-law from hell we met in Meet the Parents, and Dupree will do anything to live off of someone else. They roar and they rampage until the end, but the concluding situation is calmed far to quickly and unrealistically, like a riot quelled in an instant. Many unnecessary jokes could have been replaced with plot development, but they still elicit some legitimate laughs, and that's why we came.
Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (2006)
All Swash, No Buckle
As the climatic conclusion of this Pirates sequel approaches, there is an especially thrilling three-sword brawl between three of the main characters. They all fight for the same treasure, which many have killed for, given its value, but the duelers don't seem intent on killing each other. In fact, none of the attacks seem aimed towards killing, but rather towards grandstanding and making an ostentatious show of one's ability to balance on an ever-spinning waterwheel.
Thus is the spirit behind this inferior sequel that seems more intent on keeping us in awe at the stunts and/or special effects than giving us a cohesive story we can follow. The thrills are in surplus, true, but we still leave the theater with lots of unanswered questions, which I daresay will have to wait until Pirates 3.
But maybe I got my hopes up too high. Not an hour prior to my screening I had finished the first Pirates in hopes of refreshing the details of the story. Instead, I sat through Dead Man's Chest with disappointment where there otherwise would have been a more overwhelming excitement. It may have been the comparison to a superior film, but with all bias aside Dead Man's Chest crosses into the upper echelon far fewer times than its predecessor.
Not to say that it never does, though. In a complex and sometimes confusing webs of plots and character motivations, some brilliant and suspenseful moments break the surface, especially a jolt moment that would probably startle me again and a tense game of do-or-die Yahtzee. Such scenes are fueled by the improved performances from Orlando Bloom as Will Turner and Keira Knightley as Elizabeth Swann, and of course Johnny Depp's ebullient Jack Sparrow. All are seeking a chest containing the heart of Davey Jones, which, for some reason, enables the possessor to control the seas and thus the wealth that traverses it. Will wants it to save Elizabeth from a greedy lord's bum rap, Elizabeth wants it to save will from eternal servitude on the decks of Davey Jones' ship the Flying Dutchman, and Jack wants it to avoid paying his soul to Jones as a debt owed to him. Enter some cannibals, a giant octopus, and some characters of questionable origin and purpose, and you've got something decent enough to sit through, even for 2+ hours.
The final third of the trilogy may make everything clear, just as the last half of the first movie explained the storyline to a satisfactory degree, but this time the anticipation is not exactly killing me. Maybe next time it will not be so set up for a letdown, but one thing is for sure: Jack's got a lot more fighting to do. Savvy?
Eight Below (2006)
Never has a movie developed dogs so well.
When I saw this film, there were two guide dogs sitting next to their owners, and I must admit I had my doubts about how well-behaved they would be. After the movie, without a sound from the dogs, I had a much greater respect for the dogs, or any dogs for that matter.
Eight Below came at me with low expectations. Too many of Disney's movies have used animals as an excuse to be cute and cuddly, focusing on the humans more than the dogs. Though Eight Below may look like such a movie (Snow Dogs) at first, there is more than meets the eye. Paul Walker makes a much more convincing dog-sledding protagonist than Cuba Gooding Jr. did, mainly because he is not the most dominating presence on the screen. That honor goes to the dogs.
The dogs are left in Antarctica when a storm threatens the well-being of the sick and needy. Their names are Max, Truman, Dewey, Maya, Old Jack, Shorty, Buck, and Shadow. After watching the movie I knew each one's name by memory and cared for each of the dogs' fates. They all seem to have a personality and a role in their predicament, which flows nicely from time to time. The more touching scenes with the dogs, which extend sometimes for fifteen minutes with no dialog, are truly touching; there is even a power struggle for dominance between Maya and Max. (Human qualities? In dogs? Sounds goofy, but it works.)
The editing is little less than exceptional in the sequences with dogs. All shots, which obviously required multiple takes, flow seamlessly and continuously from dog to dog while giving them a broad range of emotions that is not cheapened by Homeward Bound-esquire dialog. The dogs do communicate, although I found Maya's "orders" to be a little far- fetched; she speaks to them as if dogs have a language, and for showing us it this film believes itself to be exceptional. Close, but lacking.
The film may be scary to younger viewers; it contains corpses of birds, whales, and...mammals. In fact, one scene contains such a jolt it may reduce children to tears; I was anticipating the jolt and I still needed to slow my heart a little bit. But the film is otherwise warm to the touch and may even draw tears, which for some reason don't freeze in sub-zero temperatures.
Brother Bear (2003)
I always wanted a brother.
This movie truly touched me, and apparently many others, as it is
one of the best animated movies I've ever seen. Never having a
brother myself, I found that for the eighty-five minutes I was treated
to a wonderful tale of friendship and fraternity, an experience I
enjoyed so much that I've watched over again twice this week. The
one thing that this movie has done that others have come close to
accomplishing but failed to do so is inspire me to actually be a
better person. The wonderful transformation of Kenai from his
intolerant form into a person who has seen the world through the
eyes of the monster he came to hate so much really affected me in
such a way that now I make my greatest attempt to treat everyone
in the way I would want to be treated- like a brother. Everyone says that the music makes the movie worse, and that it
should have been toned down, but I disagree. The mood is purely
set by some great tunes and a wonderful score by Phil Collins,
Tina Turner, and others. To get me through a particularly stressful
day, I just remember my friends, and how they're like brothers to
me, and I hum the "Welcome" song. It just inspires me. Visuals? Eye Candy? Check. The use of colors is like some thing
out of a very artistic dream. The light created by the tones seem to
come out of the screen and surround whomever should see them
in an aura of florid mist. Compare this to Finding Nemo, which
really doesn't show that much splendor and beauty, and I'll gladly
watch this. Overall this movie has everything a children's movie should have,
and much more. Children will laugh at the jokes supplied by the
movie's comic relief, two highly-Canadian Moose, yet the humor is
not so jejune that adult will feel uncomfortable watching it with or
without their children. The message is one anyone can understand; that before you judge, review the situation as your
adversary would see it. It has a great message, with a wonderful
cinematic experience, and all-together,a wonderful movie, which
gets a ten out of ten on my scale.
Great job, Disney, and thank you.
Kill Bill: Vol. 1 (2003)
Never predictable, always unorthodox.
As I watch this film, viewing the marvels that flash before my eyes, I wonder what it must be like to be as brilliant as Tarantino is. Literally, 3 opposite emotions are thrown in your face all at once and it takes the rest of the movie to get them off. Some Scenes are so disturbingly sad that you want to burst into tears, but then you remember, you can't, because something gross just happened. Now you want to throw up. But you can't, because that joke that just happened is so funny, you might choke on your puke and die. And that's just one minute. From the moment you walk into the theater and see the opening shot, you realize that this movie has a hold on you, and its not about to let go. Tarantino proves himself as one of the greatest directors the world has seen, making a huge deal about this being his 4th film. Symbolism and metaphors are commonplace in this film, but not in the sense you'd expect. he uses them not as a way to make the audience understand what's happening, but rather, it seems, as entertainment for himself. And what entertains him sure is going to entertain you. Don't expect to leave the cinema feeling good about yourself. The devil inside you will love this movie, and will force you to go back in 2004 to see the conclusion, which, if we're not careful, could end up competing against part one for an Oscar. Who knows? Pulp Fiction got one...
Annie Hall (1977)
Worthy of Best Picture
In his prime, Woody Allen has made masterpieces. They mostly make us laugh, but then came Annie Hall, and we are so entranced by the fact that this is not just a comedy, but while being extremely funny, also has a deep message to it, with an amazing love story, questioning parts, and a wonderful ending. It becomes clear in the first 15 minutes of the film that this is an auto-biographical film, where Mr. Allen shows us his life as he would like to have lived it, where he could easily waltz back in time to re-live some of his more happier memories, and where he can make whatever he wants happen. But he doesn't abuse the privilege, as there is a story to tell. Through many unusual camera angles, various music breaks, and lots of humor, the plot unfolds, and we find ourselves most captivated by Mr. Singer's love for Mrs. Annie Hall, played by the lovely Diane Keaton, who won an Oscar for her role. This film can get a little confusing at times, mainly because it is not chronological, but rather skips around to many various points in the story until the very end where everything comes together in a finale fit for a king. This picture scooped up Best Picture, Actress, and Director Oscars, and is still hailed as one of the greatest movies of all time by movie goers everywhere.
Wait Until Dark (1967)
You will remember this when you are alone.
After I watched this movie in the comforts of my own home, I really wished I could have lived at a time when I could have gone to a cinema on halloween night, 1967, and witnessed how the theater really was darkened to the legal limit so that the last 8 min. would be as scary as possible.
This really is a milestone picture in the horror genre, just like Psycho before it and Halloween after it. It has many imitators that try to re-create a horror story, but fail. Even if the initial scare doesn't make you jump, (which, by the way, it probably will,) You will remember this when you are alone. After you wake up from a nightmare where an unseen evil is stalking you, you will think to yourself how would you protect yourself if you no seeing ability, or even if you could somehow make a defense. This is not a story of the supernatural, like in Halloween, a monster movie, like Alien, or a Bad-guy-that-won't-die movie, like in Friday the 13th. This is a story, where we are given the plot as if we are reading it from a book, where all the characters have emotions and motives for their actions, and where sometimes we find ourselves just as confused and blinded as Audrey Hepburn is, and that is what makes the terror real.