Blood Lust, Caution

“So the lion fell in love with the lamb,” vampire Edward Cullen (Robert Pattinson) tells Bella Swan (Kristen Stewart). “What a stupid lamb,” the smitten Bella pants at him. Edward wryly and tenderly counters with a half-chuckle, “What a sick, masochistic lion.” Ladies and gentlemen, behold the wonderful awfulness of Twilight. Funny, I felt kind of stupid and masochistic for watching it. I always knew that I would watch it, though. I haven’t been consciously avoiding it (hmm, maybe I have been a little - I‘m a Harry Potter girl, so I think there‘s a little spite there), but it took me awhile to get around to it. But what perfect timing! I took the plunge less than a week before the next installment hits theaters. I (masochistically, perhaps) signed up to review New Moon for a site I’ve been writing for, so this was my necessary homework. I mean, I’m sure I could have managed the sequel without seeing this one first, but alas, it was just my time for Twilight. It was just my time. I’m not going to lie or make excuses - I’ve been dying to see it. Part of me is always going to be a squealing teenage girl. I’ve been so curious about the phenomenon. Signing up to review New Moon was no accident; it was my motivation, my way in, at long last.

Twilight isn’t a great movie by any means. In fact, the more I think about it, the more glaring the problems become. In the moment, though, I enjoyed it quite a bit. For sheer, mindless entertainment - and let me stress the mindless part - it’s good stuff. Her mom wants to go on the road with her new husband, so Bella Swan, a high school junior, decides to leave Phoenix and go live with her dad in middle-of-nowhere Forks, Washington, a rainy, dreary place (ideal if you’re a vampire). The town is very small, so the new girl is exotic and instantly popular, even though Bella doesn’t particularly give people any real reason to like her. She’s pretty bland, actually, but I‘ll talk more about that later. Bella is intrigued by the independent Cullen clan, especially broodingly gorgeous Edward. You know from the instant she sees him that the two are destined to fall in love. They’re partnered up in biology class, but it seems like Edward can’t stand the smell of her. Bella thinks that she repulses him. It turns out that her scent was just too intoxicating to him. He craved her blood more than he had ever craved human blood before. She was irresistible to him; he even calls her “my own personal brand of heroin.” Insert eye roll here. Even after saving her life superhero-style (he has super-strength and super-speed), he insists that they stay away from each other, but of course, that’s not going to happen. She won’t let it.

Bella is fascinated by Edward; he’s a mystery, and she needs to solve him. We know that Edward is a vampire, but it takes Bella about half of the two-hour running time to figure it out. Once it was out in the open, I enjoyed the movie a lot more. I just found their interactions much more interesting when they could talk about it. Overall, I think Twilight is a bit long. It was a little too slow on the set-up, and since this is the first in a series, there’s a ton of set-up. Oh, before I forget, there’s a lot more going on plot-wise: Edward‘s vampire family (I found them delightful - they have some great scenes, including a very awkward, refreshingly unconventional, and funny dinner visit with Bella at their home), rival vampires who actually do kill humans (Edward’s family sustains on animal blood), Bella’s developing relationship with her estranged father, and Native Americans with an ancestral connection to wolves who have a legendary beef with Edward’s kind (one young man named Jacob, played by Taylor Lautner, is especially interested in Bella - cue impending love triangle!). The other plot elements aren’t superfluous, per se; it’s just that nothing else matters except the love story between Bella and Edward. Director Catherine Hardwicke doesn’t care about anything else, and consequently, neither do we. But it’s okay, because the swooning love story is the best part.

I haven’t read the books by Stephenie Meyer, and I’m not sure if I ever want to. I think the movies (yes, that’s plural - it’s a visual potato chip, you can’t watch just one) will be enough for me. I suspect that the books might make me want to throw things, that her flowery, seemingly aimless prose would grate on me. More importantly, I’m really angry with Meyer for wasting a critical opportunity to give the young masses a female character with strength and substance. There’s nothing strong or substantial about Bella whatsoever! Instead, Meyer has given young girls a simpering heroine whose identity is totally and inextricably linked with a man. Edward IS her identity. And he’s all protective of her, which sounds sweet, but it’s just his way to control her. He owns her, and she seems fine and dandy with being a possession. Bella also rather easily makes up her mind that she wants to become a vampire so that she can live forever with Edward. Is that all that she aspires to, really? Doesn’t she want anything else out of life? I know that not every book or movie has an obligation to be a shining beacon of powerful womandom, but come on, Bella is absolutely ridiculous. She’s weak and pitiful. And what makes the whole thing even more abominable is that this is a movie directed by a woman, written by a woman, and based on a book by a woman…tsk tsk, ladies. Way to represent. I feel sorry for all of the young girls who are undoubtedly looking up to Bella as a role model. They deserve better. Shame on you, Ms. Meyer.

Not only does Bella make me ashamed to be a woman, she’s not even interesting as a character. I don’t get why people like her, and I certainly don’t understand Edward’s instantaneous, undying devotion to her. What does she have to offer? What does she bring to the table? She’s totally devoid of personality, but she’s pretty, so therefore she has value, and everyone fawns all over her. Great message. I think Meyer and screenwriter Melissa Rosenberg have confused mopiness with depth. Seriously, why are we supposed to care about her? Edward doesn’t have much going on other than constant brooding and good looks either, but he’s not the protagonist, Bella is. Bella being so boring is unforgivable. Ugh. She kind of makes me sick.

Twilight and Harry Potter don’t really have much in common, but they’re definitely compared, and it annoys me, because Twilight doesn’t deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as Harry Potter. They’re both global phenomenons aimed at a certain age group and dealing with the extraordinary (magic, vampires), but the similarities end there. I’ve always asserted rather emphatically that Harry Potter, in whatever incarnation, is far superior to Twilight, and after finally exposing myself to Twilight, I was right. Twilight is nothing compared to Harry Potter. For starters, the target demographic is obviously totally different. I can’t imagine many young males picking up a copy of Twilight. In fact, I don’t see many males reading Twilight at all, no matter what age. Actually, I don’t even think Twilight would appeal to women over a certain age (what that age is, exactly, I’m not sure - I’m a writer, not a sociologist). Twilight is smut (tame smut, but smut nonetheless) for teenage girls. Harry Potter, while maybe more popular with females and younger readers, is kind of a gender leveler that appeals to all ages. Also, with Twilight, what you see is exactly what you get. There’s absolutely nothing else going on there, no subtext or deeper meaning, nothing at stake (ha, pun totally intended). And even though Harry Potter takes place in a more fantastical world, the way the material is written in the books (J.K. Rowling is a genius/goddess) and approached in the films makes it feel relatable and real, way more than anything in Twilight. Both series also deal with growing up and the angst that process entails, but Harry Potter does it far more successfully, with intuitiveness and intelligence and resonance. I could go on and on about this subject forever, possibly even in a thesis, so I have to stop myself now. In short: yay Harry Potter, boo Twilight.

As far as the filmmaking in Twilight goes, it’s a mixed bag. The special effects are cringe-inducingly awful, pedestrian really, but the cool cinematography (cool as in lots of blue) by Elliot Davis is quite striking. The film has a gorgeous look to it, but the script is abysmally cheesy. Granted, I haven’t read the book, so I don’t know how much of it is simply adapted cheese versus organic (my gut tells me the onus falls primarily on Meyer). The score by frequent Coen-collaborator Carter Burwell (what are you doing, man?!) is ominously beautiful, but the directing by Catherine Hardwicke (capable of insight and greatness, i.e. Thirteen) is negligible at best. The acting is decent but nothing terribly special. Some performances are definitely better than others. For instance, I found the supporting actors comprising the Cullen clan vibrant and engaging (especially the earnest Peter Facinelli and the spunky Ashley Greene). Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson…eh, what can I say? To be fair, they’re not required to do much except for heave at each other and brood, and I guess they do that well enough. They both have a strong presence, for sure, and they look good on screen, but that’s about it. I don’t foresee a whole lot of growth in their performances throughout the rest of the series, which is probably largely due to the fact that their characters are so glaringly one-note. Still, I don’t think these two young actors will be challenging themselves much here. It’s a shame, because I know both are capable of better, especially Stewart.

The vampire lore is so ludicrous. I thought vampires were supposed to burst into flames in the light, not sparkle like diamonds. It’s truly Vampire Lite. And for all of its smuttiness, Twilight is actually pretty tame. There’s a lot of heavy breathing but very little follow-through. It’s all talk, all foreplay with no consummation. It’s really kind of juvenile. So…why did I like it so much?What’s wrong with me?! I’ve talked forever and a day about all of its problems, but when it comes down to it, I was really, really into Twilight. It got under my skin, deep, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I even dreamt about it! Logic be damned, I enjoyed the smut, the absurd melodrama, and the swooning romance. Oh, it’s so achingly, unabashedly romantic! I was enraptured by Bella and Edward, sucked in by the intensity of their heaving, whimpering, creepily dependent love. Stewart and Pattinson have smoldering chemistry, and it’s dizzying, hot even. And I never thought I would say this, but I thought Robert Pattinson was positively dreamy! I feel like I’ve gone into arrested development or something. As a woman, I’m affronted by its misogynistic, anti-feminist implications; as a person with a brain, I’m appalled by its idiocy. But so help me…I liked this silly, stupid movie…a lot. On some sick level, I might even love it. I feel like a hypocrite, and I kind of hate myself for it, but there it is. Twilight is mesmerizing nonsense, the guiltiest of all guilty pleasures. I was intoxicated by it.

I can’t wait to see the sequel. I need more. Twilight has become my own personal brand of heroin, I guess. In voice-over, Bella says about Edward, “I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.” Well, that’s how I feel about Twilight. I’m in now…unconditionally and irrevocably. Sigh. What have I done?

Rating: ***1/2 (out of 5)

Reviewland

Over the past five months, I’ve seen a handful of films in theaters: Up, Public Enemies, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Cold Souls, and Inglourious Basterds. With each one, I was determined to make a comeback. And then, one by one, they all faded away. It’s not that they weren’t memorable (quite the contrary, actually); I just failed in my attempts at writing. Too much time passed, and I was convinced that the next film would be the one, and so on. Well, I’m not reviewing any of those films today. The film that has brought me back from the dead (so to speak, of course) is…drum roll, please…Zombieland. My first review of a 2009 release and my first blog post in over 6 months, and I’m talking about zombies? Go figure. As unexpected as this review is, though, I'm embracing it. I don’t know why this film is the one, it just is. Zombieland is a thrilling surprise. I thought I would like it and that it would be a lot of fun, but I had no idea just how phenomenal the experience would be.


Zombieland is a fantastic film from start to finish. I would even call it a masterpiece. It’s so much more than just a zombie movie. In fact, I wouldn’t even put it in that genre. This is a coming-of-age comedy, and a witty, exhilarating one at that. The apocalyptic story centers around Columbus (Jesse Eisenberg), a college-aged loner with phobias and issues galore, as he survives in what he dubs “Zombieland.” Basically, humanity has been ravaged by a virus (some advanced form of Mad Cow, hilariously enough) that turns people into zombies. Columbus is one of the few humans left on the face of the earth, and he has survived this long because, well, he was never much of a people person to begin with, so it was easier for him to remain uninfected. He also has a set of rules that he follows obsessively (these include: “don’t be a hero" and “beware of bathrooms"). He meets up with Woody Harrelson’s Tallahassee, a zombie killing machine, and the resourceful Wichita and her little sister Little Rock (they‘re all given geographical names). The four of them become bonded together, reluctantly and inextricably.

Everyone is on a quest for something (that‘s great screenwriting): Tallahassee wants to find a Twinkie and destroy as many zombies as possible (he has an understandable chip on his shoulder), Wichita wants to keep Little Rock safe and to bring her to an amusement park in California so that she can be a kid again, Little Rock wants to stick with her sister and go to said amusement park, and Columbus is initially searching for his parents and his home, but when he meets Wichita, he starts looking within himself and embarks on a journey of romantic/sexual awakening and self-discovery. They all find home in each other. Isn’t that sweet? I’m not being sarcastic either, I really mean it. Zombieland is wonderfully sweet without ever being sappy.

All sweetness aside, there is a TON of violence and blood in Zombieland. It works as a parody of zombie flicks, as well as a zombie movie on its own terms. It’s uncompromisingly gory and unabashedly silly. The visual effects are astounding, from the zombies themselves to the stunts to Columbus’ rules intermittently popping up on the screen and moving around. Michael Bonvillain’s cinematography is gorgeously muted and at the same time vibrant and visceral. David Sardy’s score really got under my skin, in a really good way. It’s very insistent and powerful, and at times seriously beautiful, especially during the climax of the film. The only problem I have with it, actually, is that it isn’t available to the public to buy or download. That needs to be fixed immediately. The production design by Maher Ahmad and set decoration by Gene Serdena are exquisite. The world is so amazingly believable. I was especially blown away by the look of the amusement park. The running time is perfect; it doesn’t overstay its welcome, and it doesn’t waste any time getting into the story. Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick’s script is impeccably brilliant, and Ruben Fleischer’s direction is relaxed (he lets the actors explore their characters), yet purposeful and confident, with great flair. Zombieland is pretty much the total package.

The cast is incredible. I loved seeing Abigail Breslin holding Woody Harrelson at gunpoint and then later describing Hannah Montana to him. She really holds her own here and challenges herself by doing something different. I’ve been a fan of Emma Stone since Superbad, and I think she’s poised to become a big star. She has an ease about her that instantly elicits the viewer's empathy. And she’s a strong, kickass female presence. Her performance as Wichita is multi-faceted and memorable. Jesse Eisenberg is similar to Michael Cera in persona and acting style, I don’t think anyone will deny that, but Eisenberg is more likeable, doesn’t seem as needy, and has more going on than just the persona (I'm not sure that Cera does, though he does do his shtick extremely well). I think Eisenberg has significantly more depth and range than Cera. He’s adorably loveable as neurotic, geeky Columbus, and he has that quality that just makes you want to root for him. Even though this is totally an ensemble effort, Woody Harrelson stood out the most for me. He’s hot (really? did I just say that?), hilarious, and moving - he's just awesome. There’s also an epic cameo, but I’ll let you discover that on your own. *wink*

I absolutely LOVED Zombieland. I honestly can’t find a single thing that I didn’t like about it. It does exactly what it sets out to do. It’s funny as hell, smart, sweet, suspenseful, romantic, touching, exciting, exuberant, and emotionally engaging - it’s perfect. I couldn’t ask for anything more. Well played, Zombieland. And thank you.

Rating: ***** (out of 5 stars)

Year of the Ram

I don’t know why everyone is so surprised that Darren Aronofsky was able to make a subdued character study like The Wrestler. Is this so different from Requiem for a Dream? Not really. Think about it. They’re both about people, their addictions, loss, pain, regret, and loneliness. Okay, so his films are kind of depressing, but give me depressing, aesthetically innovative, and emotionally engaging over happy-go-lucky, artistically bankrupt, and forgettably vapid any day. If you have any semblance of a heart whatsoever, The Wrestler will break it. It will make you sad. This is a tough film. But it will also make you cheer: for the spirit of Randy “The Ram,” for Mickey Rourke’s glorious victory, and for the beauty of filmmaking at its finest. The Wrestler is a film that is not easy to shake. It’s easily one of the year’s very best.

I came away from The Wrestler with a huge amount of respect and appreciation for professional wrestling. Aronofsky is so meticulous in his recreation of this world. The details are painstaking and fascinating. In fact, I’m not sure there IS another sports-based film that honors its subject so well. There is so much skill and planning involved, and the wrestlers are so dedicated to the sport and to each other. I was incredibly moved by the overwhelming sense of camaraderie that Aronofsky captures in the wrestling community.

The Wrestler is the ultimate underdog film: it immortalizes the comeback of fallen and, arguably. past-his-prime actor Mickey Rourke playing (BEING) the comeback of fallen and past-his-prime wrestler Randy “The Ram” Robinson. I can’t think of another role that is so inspiringly autobiographical, or if one exists at all. Randy works weekdays at a grocery store and weekends in the ring. Even though he is still wrestling, and the other wrestlers respect and admire him tremendously, it’s clear that his time has past. 20 years ago, he was on top of the wrestling world. Now, he does shows, but he also appears at fluorescent-soaked, echo-y community centers for autograph signing sessions with a bunch of busted old-timers in which barely any fans attend (but those that do adore him - see why this film is so interesting?). He takes all the wrestling work he can, and while he still has skills, I wonder if he’s being included in these events partly out of pity.

Randy gets the chance of a lifetime when he is offered to headline a major upcoming wrestling bonanza in a re-match of his career-defining defeat of his arch-nemesis, The Ayatollah. Randy enthusiastically, and gratefully, accepts, but in the meantime, after a particularly brutal match involving a staple gun, Randy has a heart attack in the dressing room and requires bypass surgery. He wakes up in the hospital to his doctor telling him that his life is essentially over. His body, ravaged by steroid use and the very real blows in the ring for so long, just can’t wrestle anymore. Hopelessly alone, Randy seeks comfort in Cassidy (Marisa Tomei), a stripper at the club he frequents, and Stephanie (Evan Rachel Wood), the daughter he estranged. He gives up wrestling for as long as he can, but it’s in his blood. He fights the big fight at the end. How could he not? A lot of stuff, surprising and wonderful, happens in this film; I promise I’m not giving anything away. But just in case, I’m going to refrain from doing any more plot regurgitation so that I don’t ruin the purity of the experience for you.

Darren Aronofsky confounded many people with his incomprehensible-yet-beautiful film The Fountain, including myself. But with The Wrestler, he, like Rourke, is back on top. He is truly one of the greatest filmmakers we have and, I would wager, THE most visceral. Even if you don’t understand The Fountain, you feel it. Then there’s the wrenching Requiem for a Dream, an emotional anvil of a film, and one of the greatest masterpieces in cinematic history. God, I love this man. He brings such a visual vibrancy to this story. His style is bold and distinct, he constantly takes risks, and he never compromises his startling and unique vision. He uses the camera as a character to create a sense of claustrophobic isolation. There’s this authentic, documentary-style aura about the film that transcends aesthetics. You are an active part of this world. The aesthetics, though, are astounding: the gritty and gripping cinematography by Maryse Alberti, the powerfully naturalistic and humanistic writing by Robert Siegel, the intricate and essential sound design (Aronofsky utilizes sound as well as Paul Thomas Anderson), and the soul-piercing melancholia of Clint Mansell’s score…when you factor in the acting…it all adds up to perfection.

So, let’s talk acting. WOW. Evan Rachel Wood is intensely moving as Randy’s daughter. She is one of the most gifted young actresses out there. Marisa Tomei should have won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress. She is divine. Her performance is so brave. She’s an aging actress in Hollywood portraying an aging stripper that no one desires anymore. Talk about tough. This is one of the best women’s roles I’ve seen in years. Cassidy is such a strong, compassionate character, and the fearless way Tomei throws herself into this part is mind-boggling. She has to do all of these scenes nude or mostly nude (and she looks fabulous), playing a woman who is being rejected and humiliated by scum whose money she needs. That is some SERIOUS stuff. Women today are under more pressure than ever to maintain a certain (unrealistic) body image, and I admire Marisa Tomei more than I can express for doing such a beautiful job, for the confidence and class she exudes, and for exposing much more than just her body.

Mickey Rourke. What can I say that could possibly be adequate? He’s officially back, and he IS this film. He is its throbbing, beating, bleeding heart. I could see his soul in that weary face. Like Tomei, he is brave and totally fearless. He is utterly unflinching in his commitment to this role. He’s so many different superlatives that there’s no point in me just rattling them off. They’re not good enough, even if they’re all true. The only word that I hope can come close to describing his work is “heroic.” It’s rare to care this much about a character…or an actor. Rourke IS “The Ram.” He’s so astonishingly real that I often felt physically uncomfortable, like I had to turn away from the excruciating loneliness and humiliation that he personifies so relentlessly. Mickey Rourke is primal; he almost looks like an animal. He's got this sexual aura, this rawness, that actually unnerved me at times. He's almost off-putting in the way he looks, but then he's also just a big, adorable teddy bear that I wanted to rock in my arms. I think I kind of fell in love with Mickey Rourke while watching The Wrestler. He made me weep with the beauty and genuineness of his performance. When Rourke enters the arena at the end for the big fight, I got chills all over that were so intense, it felt like my whole body was on fire. I can pay no higher compliment than that.

I’m outraged that he didn’t win the Oscar. A great injustice has been done. Years from now, people will have forgotten all about Sean Penn in Milk, but future generations will always remember and cherish Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler. Perhaps that’s his real award, and the greater one at that.

Rating: ***** (out of 5)

Thunder Blunder

Tropic Thunder is a movie about a group of self-congratulatory assholes MADE by a group of self-congratulatory assholes. This alleged comedy has been nearly universally lauded by critics and audiences. Everyone seems to think it’s the funniest thing since a kick to the groin (which, by the way, is akin to the maturity level of this movie’s “humor”). Merely imitating, or imitating with a bit more raunch, is NOT satire. If you’re looking for a humorous skewering of the big-budget war movie, skip Tropic Thunder. I mean, skip it anyway, but see Hearts of Darkness: A Filmmaker’s Apocalypse, the documentary chronicling the making of Apocalypse Now. No, in all seriousness, Tropic Thunder is not the brilliant satire that everyone seems to think it is, and which IT thinks it is, and certainly its filmmakers and cast think it is. Ugh. Let me say this loud and clear: Tropic Thunder is NOT good, and it’s NOT funny.

Honestly, this movie isn’t worth much of my time, so I’m going to rip off the critical band-aid as quickly as possible. Tropic Thunder is about the making of the making of the making of a war movie, or something like that. At any given point, it’s various levels of real for random characters. It gets old really fast. This painfully unironic macho fest (no, this is not just because I’m some man-hating feminist) is the immature mind ejaculation of writers Etan Cohen and Justin Theroux and writer/director Ben Stiller. The predominantly male cast includes: Ben Stiller (who is actually pretty good), Jack Black, Brandon T. Jackson, Robert Downey, Jr., Jay Baruchel (he‘s so annoying that I wanted to smack him), Nick Nolte (redefining “grizzled” and reprising his mug shot, though not unfunny), Danny McBride, Steve Coogan (wasted and irritating as Damien Cockburn - get it? teehee), Bill Hader (always funny), Matthew McConaughey (Ben Stiller’s character’s agent, goes by “Pecker” - oh, how droll), and Tom Cruise, who I will not say one snide word about, because he rocks this movie in surprising and unrecognizable fashion as chunky, angry, crude studio head Les Grossman.

So, it’s not all bad. I’ll make some concessions. The movie LOOKS good. It looks like it cost a lot of money, so that equals good, right? Sorry, that was snarky. It does look good. And the selection of music is pretty rocking. It was mildly funny and even very funny sporadically. Tugg Speedman (Stiller’s character) and Simple Jack? Hilarious. Tom Cruise is a RIOT. He should have gotten the Oscar nomination if anyone from this movie was to get one, and even then, no one deserved to get one. The cast is decent, some much better than others (Stiller, Cruise…um, thought there would be more…I guess Downey, Jr. and Black), but there are definitely some talented comedians here. However, they know it, and it’s obvious. I could appreciate the concept. I got where they were trying to go with it. And it did work occasionally. The experience wasn’t a totally miserable one. There were fleeting moments of brilliance (SO fleeting, though), which made me even more disappointed because I saw that it had potential. Too bad Stiller and company (I’m looking at you, RDJ) couldn’t put their egos aside for the greater good. They just think they’re really cool.

And come on, really? An Oscar nomination for Robert Downey, Jr.? Like that guy needs his head inflated any more. Yes, he’s a great actor, and yes, he’s really darn good here, but this performance is ultimately nothing. It’s not memorable or special. It’s cheap and wrings the hell out of a joke (Kirk Lazarus is SO method…how method is he? He’s so method that…you get the idea…GAG) that isn’t very funny to begin with. The whole movie feels that way. Everything is drawn out to the brink of insanity - MY insanity for having to endure it. Also, Jack Black is so randomly used in this movie as a heroin addict. I laughed at his scenes more out of disbelief than anything else. If all that wasn’t enough, the movie is too long, the pace is often agonizingly slow (like that insufferable climax), the narrative is disjointed, it’s one of the most self-indulgent things I’ve ever seen, and oh yeah, it’s NOT FUNNY.

The movie is a totally self-serving project. It left me completely unsatisfied. Tropic Thunder is impotent. Sorry, fellas.

Rating: ** (out of 5)

A Tale of Two Men

Just when you thought you had seen everything about Richard M. Nixon, along comes Ron Howard with Frost/Nixon making the subject all fresh and topical and, well, brilliant. I think Frost/Nixon is THE quintessential Nixon film. I scoffed when it was nominated for Best Picture, but I humbly retract. It deserves to be nominated. It’s probably the most solid piece of throwback filmmaking of 2008. When I say that, I mean that it’s just good old-fashioned storytelling of the highest order. There’s nothing particularly fancy about it; it’s just a well-made studio product. But don’t let that fool you - Frost/Nixon is one helluva film.

The decision to focus on the interviews between recently-disgraced Richard Nixon (Frank Langella) and desperately-seeking-fame British talk show host David Frost (Michael Sheen) was a stroke of genius, both on the part of screenwriter Peter Morgan (who adapted his own stage play, which had also starred Langella and Sheen) and Ron Howard. I don’t know about the general public, or at least my generation, but I didn’t know these interviews existed before this film.

There were four televised interviews that took place in 1977 between these two psychically similar (the connection is gloriously Shakespearean) men, both with nothing and everything to lose. Richard Nixon had just resigned the Presidency after the shame of Watergate. After he received a full pardon from Gerald Ford, people were outraged. He had gotten away with it on a legal level, and on a moral level, he slickly never admitted fault. David Frost, a British talk show host who had fallen from grace in his own way (his career was floundering; he longed for his former fame in the U.S.), marveled at the ratings for Nixon’s resignation and decided that he could revive his career by doing an in-depth interview with Richard Nixon. His producer, and most everyone else, thought he was insane. What could he, a mere “performer,” do? No one took him seriously, not even his inner circle. He didn’t have the chops or the credibility to get this project going.

And yet, somehow he did, hiding his struggles beneath a trained emcee’s gleaming smile, raising the funds at any cost, using his own money, never knowing if the interviews would ever be aired and all of his efforts would be for naught. He would have been worse off than ever had these interviews failed. David Frost wanted to elicit a confession from Tricky Dick. Richard Nixon wanted to set the record straight, to remind people that more happened during his administration than Watergate, to regain the public’s acceptance and to enter political life again. These interviews with Frost were viewed by him and his camp to be nothing more than fluff, an easy opportunity to get back into the limelight. It was a chance, the last chance, for both men. That's good drama.

The Nixon in this film is unlike any other portrayal of Nixon I have ever seen. Frank Langella plays him as half god/half mortal, a smooth operator, very powerful and intelligent and charming and funny, but also as someone who is deeply bitter and full of pain, anger, regret, and guilt. I just couldn’t believe how much I liked Richard Nixon when I was watching it. I was almost cheering for him. Both men are sort of equal parts relatable and pitiable, which makes the experience so rich. You can identify with them, and I did. The parallels between the two men are striking. It seems like their livelihoods are almost inextricably linked. They’re inversely proportionate: as one rises, the other falls, and that’s the only way it can be. This is a duel to the death. And it’s so thrilling to watch! I was riveted the entire time. It’s epically engaging.

I’m not quite sure why, but Frost/Nixon reminds me a lot of one of my favorite movies ever, Howard Hawks’ fast-talking His Girl Friday (1939). I think it’s the really great balance between humor and tragedy, and the frank tone. I just love it.

Frost/Nixon is the perfect example of how a good script serves the film, the story, its characters, and its actors. Milk could have been this good, maybe, with a better script. Peter Morgan’s witty and insightful script for Frost/Nixon is nothing short of astounding. It brings you inside the minds of these men like few things I’ve ever seen. Sean Penn can only do so much work on his own, you know? With Frost/Nixon, EVERYTHING comes together, and it’s spectacular.

The acting in Frost/Nixon is universally amazing, from the supporting cast (Kevin Bacon, Sam Rockwell, Oliver Platt, an underused Rebecca Hall) to the main giants (Sheen and Langella). Michael Sheen has gotten a bum rap with this film. His fantastic performance has been so overlooked that it’s ridiculous. He makes smarminess seem genuine, and he guides his character through a remarkable arc that is always believable. His face is an ever-changing canvas of emotion and likeable humanity.

And speaking of canvases of emotion, Frank Langella is like Leonardo da Vinci, and his face the Mona Lisa. Holy crap is he good in this film! It’s unreal. His Oscar nomination was a given. I actually think, at this point, that he should take home the trophy. I have to see a couple performances still, but it’s going to be damn hard to top him. He’s in a league of his own. The turning point in the film is a killer scene in which Nixon makes a late night phone call to Frost. He’s a little drunk with a lot of candor. We know that these are Nixon’s deepest-buried feelings. Every word Langella utters of what is basically a ten minute monologue is palpable and rich. It’s one of the best acted scenes in the history of cinema. Frank Langella practically redefines nuance with this role.

There’s a moment near the end of the film, in the last interview, when Frost asks Nixon about the American people, and before he answers, there’s about twenty seconds of silence as we stare into Langella’s face in close-up….it’s like we’re looking into Nixon’s very soul. Watching his face in those moments of silence, I actually got chills. There is so much going on that we can read his subtle and skillful face like a map. Frost/Nixon made me want to bow down in awe of Frank Langella. It’s a mind-blowing performance for the ages.

Frost/Nixon: the little movie that could…and did. Outstanding.

Rating: ***** (out of 5)

Old Car, Old Star

The success of Gran Torino has left me totally angry and bewildered. Critics and audiences rarely agree so enthusiastically, but such is the curious case of Gran Torino. The Metacritic critics give it an average rating of 72 out of 100. According to Rotten Tomatoes, Gran Torino is 76% fresh. You can find it on the IMDB Top 250 at position 82. That means that viewers have ranked it as the 82nd best film of all time. Some of the films that Gran Torino is, apparently, better than: Billy Wilder's 1960 masterpiece The Apartment (#89), Stanley Kubrick's polarizing-yet-undeniably impressive Full Metal Jacket (#93), the Coens' Best Picture winner No Country for Old Men (#95), Orson Welles' trippy Touch of Evil (#94), the exquisite Life is Beautiful (#87), a little film called 2001: A Space Odyssey (#84), and, most egregious to me, Charlie Chaplin's The Great Dictator (#98). It's creeping up way-too-quickly, like within the next ten, on comedic milestone Some Like It Hot (#81), Singin' in the Rain (#79), Charlie Chaplin's Modern Times (#78), Metropolis (#77), All About Eve (#75), and yet another brilliant Chaplin film, City Lights (#71). What is this? Is Clint Eastwood trying to pick a fight with Charlie Chaplin?

Two weekends ago, Gran Torino went wide (couldn't it have stayed narrow?) and took in $30 million at the box office to become the number one movie in America. Last weekend, it fell to number two but still scooped up over $20 million more. This weekend pushed the total gross all the way up to $97 million! I can't believe this movie is going to pass the much-coveted $100 million mark! Gran Torino has also been named one of the best films of the year (National Board of Review). It has been nominated for awards and even won a couple (Best Original Screenplay and Best Actor - the screwy Board of Review again). I'm so grateful that the Academy shut it out, but still, all the accolades and the overwhelming public and critical love... Okay...how do I put this...

HAS THE WORLD GONE MAD?!

Seriously! What kind of topsy-turvy hell is this? Is this a cosmic joke? Am I part of an experiment, à la The Truman Show? Alas...no. This is reality. Welcome to it. And yes, the melodramatics WERE necessary.

So, just in case people don't know, Clint Eastwood actually released two films in 2008 - prestige project Changeling starring Angelina Jolie and Gran Torino. Oh, how I WISH all the hullabaloo was about Changeling, but it's not. It should be, though! Changeling is an astronomically better film and one that has been horribly passed over and forgotten. But hey, who cares about substance and pesky things like "plot" when you can see an almost 80-year-old Clint with a gun? I was surprised that he was releasing two films in the same year again, but as the two projects were unrelated (no Flags of Our Fathers/Letters from Iwo Jima here), I suspected that the SECOND one, Gran Torino, would suffer from hasty production (it did) and fade away (it didn't). I saw the trailer for Gran Torino for the first time, oddly enough, right before Changeling. It was the last trailer before the film started. I laughed heartily on the inside. It looked so absurd and, well...bad. Certainly no one would take it seriously. And putting it immediately before Changeling made it look even more ridiculous. A couple months later, Gran Torino came out of nowhere and starting getting rave reviews and awards buzz. I remained skeptical for as long as I could until my curiosity got the better of me and I decided to give it a shot. I kept my mind wide open, though my instincts proved correct.

I know I sound really livid, and don't get me wrong, I definitely am in the broader scheme of things, but the movie itself doesn't especially anger me. It's really too inconsequential to let it be that significant. What does anger me, however, is that I watched it two and a half times in preparation for this review. Anyway, here's the thin plot: Clint Eastwood is Walt Kowalski, disgruntled Korean war vet, the last white guy holding his ground in a neighborhood that has become a melting pot of Asians, Hispanics, and other random minorities that Walt doesn't like. So, Walt is old, and he's angry. And he has a 1972 Gran Torino. A Gran Torino is a car.

The movie begins with Walt at his wife's funeral. Walt scowls and growls at his ungrateful, estranged, and incredibly annoying family. Walt growls a LOT. His family wants to put him away in a home (naturally eliciting a growl from Walt) because they're afraid he'll get into trouble in the "old neighborhood." Well, yeah, seeing as how Walt has a loaded shotgun (a throwback weapon? connection to the past and his roots and such?) on hand at all times, I'd be concerned, as well. His family members are such one-dimensional monsters, though, that all they really care about is their inheritance and the eternal question: who will get the Gran Torino when the old bastard croaks? Walt is more insistently pestered by possibly the most irritating character of the year, a barely legal baby-faced priest who babbles on and on about how he was close with Walt's wife (why? isn't that odd to anyone? and does Walt seriously think that she would be cool with the vigilante stuff?) and that she made him promise to watch out for Walt after she died. Walt, of course, scoffs...until he doesn't anymore. Do you doubt that they become pals?

Right on cue, an Asian family (of Hmong origin) moves in next door to Walt. As he's insanely racist, especially toward Asians (Korea, ya know), this isn't good. The teenage lad next door that Walt will inevitably mentor is Thao, a sensitive introvert who washes dishes and gardens and doesn't do the manly things his family expects of him. His gang member cousin wants to recruit him. So, Thao is standing on the precipice of life: will he succumb to gangbanging or transcend his social status and make something of himself? Gee, I wonder.

Thao gets pressured into giving the gang a try. To prove his worthiness and his manhood to the other gang members, they give him an initiation task: steal the old man's Gran Torino. He tries, gets foiled by Clint with a gun, and flees. The gang comes to Thao's home to rough him up, and the brawl spills over onto Walt's lawn, prompting the catchphrase du jour, grunted down the barrel of a shotgun: "Get off my lawn." Because of this, the neighborhood hails Walt as a hero. He wants none of it. Thao's sister Sue drags him into their lives. Thao is forced to pay penance for his attempted robbery by working for Walt (by his maternal figures, one of several instances of Walt being conveniently guilted into doing something by Asian customs).

After an hour of excruciating build-up, Gran Torino turns into Tuesdays with Morrie. Walt and Thao (or Toad as Walt ignorantly calls him) hang out and fix things, Walt teaches him how to be a man, and they form a bond that Walt doesn't have with his own sons (I don't blame him, they're awful). In the third act (the script structure is embarrassingly visible), Walt cares enough about Sue and Thao that he wants to make sure that they can live in peace without the influence of gangs (isn't this futile? won't more keep moving in indefinitely?). This is Walt's penance, his big redemption (for being a nasty foul-mouthed SOB and killing people in Korea). Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that Walt periodically coughs throughout the movie? That's cinematic code for fatal illness. Ugh, it's so painfully obvious. If you can't see the ending coming, this is probably your first movie ever. I will concede that while the ending is wildly and messianically predictable, I was surprised by the WAY the final events went down. Ultimately, it doesn't matter. It doesn't make the movie better, just slightly less boring.

The first hour of Gran Torino is some of the worst cinema I've ever seen. I was laughing hysterically at its badness. It's basically just Eastwood growling and spewing racial slurs amidst terrible dialogue, appalling acting, and atrocious pacing. I wouldn't say it gets "good" in the second hour, it just gets less bad. It becomes tolerable and mildly amusing. I couldn't pinpoint what I was feeling until my fellow viewer likened it to watching your kid in a school play. "Oh, bless his little heart." I knew I had this dumb smile plastered on my face, as if I had been lobotomized. Clint Eastwood gives a decent performance, but it's nothing special. The National Board of Review awarded him Best Actor for this movie. That is royally fucked up. Pardon my language, but I guess Walt's constant cussing wore off on me. Eastwood claims this is the last acting he'll ever do, which is like catnip to critics and awards voters who will want to bestow what I call a "nostalgia award" upon him. He's old, he's had a long career, and he's paying homage to the badass persona he created decades ago. I would have been furious if he had gotten an Oscar nomination.

That being said, he IS a badass. I fully admit that. He's almost 80 and has his slacks hiked up, but no one is going to mess with him. I guess there's this primal part of all of us (correct me if I'm wrong) that gets an adrenaline rush from that type of machismo. It's just...cool. And I can get into it, although I do have some feminist guilt about it. Anyway, Clint does a good enough job, but the character is so pitifully developed that by the time you're supposed to care about him, you're still ten steps behind where the screenwriter wants you to be in the arc of identifying with this character, and you don't. At least, I didn't care. How can you care about a cartoon in an allegedly real world?

And then there's the racism. I have never heard the word "gook" more in my life, and I've taken two semester-long classes on Vietnam and read tons of literature and saw lots of films. There's a line that separates a character being racist from the movie as a whole being racist. Gran Torino crosses that line. The racist remarks are so putridly pervasive that it just gets obscene. Feel free to disagree, but I think Gran Torino, and by association Eastwood, come off a bit racist.

Gran Torino is so messed up. Everything is skewed; nothing happens as intended. The tone is inconsistent. Is this a shoot 'em up? Is this a Lifetime movie? Is it a redemption drama? It's kind of all of those, but also none of those. The cliché-riddled script by Nick Schenk isn't even palatable enough to qualify for remedial screenwriting; it's that awful. Bee Vang is actually really good as Thao, but all of the other acting is misery personified. Special awards go to the actors playing Walt's family (not even worth mentioning their names), Ahney Her (Sue) with her awkward over-enunciation, whiny screechiness, and memorably terrible recitation of the inherently hideous and stupid line "Booga booga booga," and the abysmal, perpetually dumb-looking, flatter than all holy hell Christopher Carley (the priest) for making Stanislavski roll over in his grave and weep with their assaults on the craft of acting. Carley is the worst, though. You shouldn't want to punch the priest.

I have a huge problem with the ending (I won't reveal, but if you've seen it and want to discuss it, I'd be happy to do so). The ending, and again this is Walt's influence on my language, pussies out. Gran Torino is exorbitantly self-indulgent, but Eastwood pushes it beyond that, and what you get is pomposity. Not digging it, Mr. Eastwood. Not digging it.

And then there's the song. Oh, the song. The theme song of Gran Torino is "Gran Torino." How creative. The song, sung by Jamie Cullum, is overall pretty lame. But the special part of its use in the film is that we are graced by the heavenly, dulcet tones of Clint Eastwood's 80-year-old voice. And if you haven't figured it out, I'm being totally sarcastic. Eastwood's singing sucks! I have spent so much time trying to come up with an apt description for his sound that someone else hasn't already said, and this is the best I've got: When he sings, Clint Eastwood sounds like a Muppet with emphysema.

Now, for your visual/aural pleasure, I've assembled three video clips to give you an idea of what his singing sounds like. I implore you to watch all of them in their entirety, as I believe it will make this experience more rewarding, and it means a lot to me, but if you really can't watch them all the way through, watch at least 30 seconds of singing, enough to get a good feel for it.








So, I hope that was informative as well as fun. It was a happy trip down memory lane for me. Hey, a good way to travel down memory lane is in a Gran Torino! Ahem. Anyway, his voice is kind of an amalgam of those three voices.

And now, prepare yourself for the real thing. Luckily, Eastwood only croaks the first verse. Break out the cotton balls and enjoy!

That pretty much says it all, doesn't it?

Clint Eastwood shot Gran Torino in 32 days. In 37 days, Alfred Hitchcock shot Psycho. Clint Eastwood is no Alfred Hitchcock.

Rating: ** (out of 5 stars)

Guy Ritchie Killed RocknRoll

I think it's safe to say that Guy Ritchie has a pretty decent following, some ardent defenders, and has received considerable, if cultish, acclaim. Can anyone tell me why? His body of work is so small and the quality in that tiny quantity is so poor that I'm left bewildered and a bit angry.

Ritchie's RocknRolla, a British crime caper, is one of the worst movies of 2008. It's atrocious. Absurdly, almost impossibly bad. Watching it was pure misery. And I paid $10 to see it! My only defense is that I was duped by this awesome-looking trailer:

See? Deceptive! Looks cool, right? It's not. There's nothing interesting, exciting, or comprehensible about RocknRolla (ugh, it's annoying to type that stupid title - I die a little on the inside each time). The plot is just awful. It's rambling, nonsensical, and dull as all bloody hell. RocknRolla is unnecessary, overcomplicated, and self-indulgent. It's a hideous waste of good actors (Gerard Butler, Jeremy Piven, and Ludacris) and an egregious waste of a great one (Tom Wilkinson).

Butler and Wilkinson are the only two things separating RocknRolla from a zero star rating. Wilkinson for his mere presence, really, but Butler is actually charming and quite funny (the only humorous aspect of this glaringly UNfunny alleged comedy, aside from its laughable wretchedness, of course - although, there isn't much laughter as it's honestly too bad to derive even that simple pleasure granted by terrible movies). Gerard Butler is like a way less interesting and talented version of Colin Farrell in In Bruges, but he's the best thing in this assault on cinema and humanity, so I'm grateful to him. He's very entertaining and, to be superficial, he's really hot. Still, there's no compensation, no relief, and no excuse. I loathe this movie.

2008 saw some serious duds in the action/thriller department, but RocknRolla really bites the bullet.

Rating: 1/2* (out of 5)

You Gotta Give 'Em Hope

Milk is a disappointingly conventional biopic about a gloriously unconventional man. Harvey Milk (Sean Penn), based in San Francisco, crusaded tirelessly for gay rights and became the first openly gay public official (City Supervisor) in the late 70s. Harvey Milk is an inspiration, and his story blew me away. The film itself is uninspired. Milk could have been great, and it's a tragedy that it's not.

Milk is basically a series of vignettes highlighting different periods of Harvey's life during the 70s - numerous failed attempts to win public office, romantic relationships with men, his eventual triumph, and the shocking and tragic events that followed it. The film never flows together in any cohesive way. There's an ongoing narration by Penn (Harvey's cryptic tell-all into a microphone at his kitchen table) that appears and disappears at random. The structure of the film is so disjointed that I think it could have been disastrous without the heavyweight acting of the ensemble. Milk jumps around so much that the result, narratively, seems surface. There should have been less quantity and more quality.

Most of this is the fault of Dustin Lance Black's painfully amateurish, formulaic, and repetitious script. He was in way over his head on this project, which was his first screenplay. He will get an Oscar nomination, but he won't deserve it. The script is a mess. The subplot involving one of Harvey's two main lovers, Jack Lira (Diego Luna), is annoying and superfluous. Jack is selfish and terrible for Harvey, but Harvey just can't resist him. This storyline screams, "Look, Harvey has flaws and weaknesses!" It's a pitiful attempt to add more dimensions to the character. We don't need to be TOLD that; Sean Penn makes us feel and believe that Harvey is fully human, someone who makes mistakes and suffers from self-doubt as much as he triumphs and perseveres. He is not meant to be a messiah (although I think the film leans that way at times). There's the random introduction of some random kid in a wheelchair calling Harvey as he's about to commit suicide. Things happen too conveniently (life-summation phone calls before pivotal plot moments, one boyfriend exiting and another entering almost instantaneously, a terrible, cliché oversymbolization of opera), the film lingers too long, and it was even a bit boring here and there. It's frustrating, because Harvey Milk and all the actors who are working their method butts off deserve a better screenplay.

It's interesting to see Gus Van Sant going the mainstream, traditionally narrative route. This is a total departure from mood outings like Paranoid Park (and thankfully light years away from the atrocious Psycho remake - shudder). I'm happy that he's getting such widespread recognition. His directing is quite good, and the story is obviously coming from a very personal place. I believe he did the best job possible with the script he had, but I think he was more concerned with the message than the structure. Pity, because the message would have been stronger if the film had been stronger. Milk is a sprawling epic of sorts, and Van Sant manages to hold it all together. It's a lot to keep under control, and I admire his efforts and his passion for the project. I've certainly come a long way from despising him for desecrating Alfred Hitchcock.

None of the aesthetics of the film are particularly noteworthy. The film has a nice grainy 70s-ish look to it (cinematography by Harris Savides) and is interspersed with some stunning real footage from the past. Only Danny Elfman's brilliant score really stands out. He just keeps on proving that he's one of the best composers we've ever had, and one of the most versatile. There's an operatic, powerfully emotional, and swooningly gorgeous quality about his layered melodies. It's a knockout. And it does precisely what a score should do, which is complement the film and elevate it to another level.

I'm not sure if Milk has THE best ensemble of the year (The Dark Knight, In Bruges, and Slumdog Millionaire come to mind), but it's definitely a top contender. Diego Luna - the poor guy - does what he can to make an annoying caricature charming. Allison Pill is fantastic as tough and cool Anne, Harvey's campaign manager and the lone female in his universe. Josh Brolin is just exploding off the radar lately, and I'm thrilled for him. He's getting a lot of acclaim for his role as Dan White, Harvey's nemesis on the supervisory committee. He's great here, bringing humor, gravity, and emotional nuance to a character who could have been a stereotypical mustache-twirling baddie (if he had a mustache, that is), but his best work this year was in W. as the titular fool. Emile Hirsch impresses me more all the time. He's equal parts hilarious and intense as Cleve Jones, a wayward teen who joins Harvey's crusade.

I don't know what happened to James Franco, but somewhere between Spider-Man 3 and now, he turned into a really amazing actor (yes, I know he apparently did good work on Freaks and Geeks, but his film career has been dismal at best). His performance in Milk is so sensitive and beautiful that it makes my heart skip a beat and a few tears come to my eyes just thinking about it. He has the most heart-melting and sincere smile and such a gentle disposition that it's no wonder Harvey is so in love with him. He plays Scott Smith, who I firmly believe was Harvey's one true love and soul mate. Franco deserves a Best Supporting Actor nomination. This is his best performance to date, and I'm excited to watch him in the future. He also sort of reminds me of Heath Ledger in this film. I can't really explain it, maybe it's how he looks or just his spirit, but it's lovely.

Sean Penn is stunning as Harvey Milk. He IS Harvey Milk. It's a staggering, electrifying, profoundly touching performance. He's riveting from start to finish, whether he's giving powerful Barack Obama-style speeches or breathtakingly and exquisitely exposing Harvey's heart and soul to us. He draws us so completely into Harvey's life that script problems seem trivial compared to his awesome talent. It feels like he's speaking to only you and to the whole world at the same time, and always intimately and passionately. Honestly, I think this is the best work of Sean Penn's career. Who knew it was possible for him to get better? Well, here's the proof. He's one of this year's strongest and most deserving Oscar contenders.

With Proposition 8 still looming over us, Milk is more relevant than ever. It's a serious film about a serious issue, gay rights, that has somehow broken into the mainstream, and I think that's amazing. I'm sure his story will inspire revolutionaries of today to continue and hopefully one day finish his work. Milk has more than its share of flaws, and I can't dismiss them (I wish I could), but the acting is so transcendent, the story is so moving and inspirational, and the message of perseverance, tolerance, and hope is so potent and so essential to the advancement of society and humanity that it deserves to be seen and celebrated.

After Harvey Milk was elected City Supervisor in 1977, he asserted, "It's not my victory, it's yours and yours and yours. If a gay can win, it means there is hope that the system can work for all minorities if we fight. We've given them hope." And, after all, as Harvey says in the film, "Without hope, life's not worth living."

Rating: **** (out of 5)

They Shoot Pretty People, Don't They?

I saw Shoot 'Em Up in theaters last year and absolutely loved it. It was a blast (no pun intended, but I'll take it). Most critics hated it. They thought it was too violent. Well, yeah, that's the point; however, it seems like they all missed it. Writer/director Michael Davis exaggerates the violence and exploits the clichés of the action genre for comic effect. It's clear that Davis loves the genre that he's mocking, so it's an affectionate homage as well as being a very intelligent, entertaining movie in its own right.

I think Shoot 'Em Up is the movie that Wanted aspired, and failed, to be. I saw Wanted, directed by Timur Bekmambetov, a long time ago (opening weekend, actually), and as I predicted then, I have mostly forgotten it. From the trailer and the ads, Wanted seemed to be in the same parody vein as Shoot 'Em Up. I mean, obviously, the massive quantities of curved bullets and the ridiculous scenarios couldn't be serious, right? Wrong. Well, mostly wrong, anyway. There were moments that were downright farcical, as well as some playful "breaking the fourth wall" stuff that I liked a lot. But ultimately, Wanted takes itself too seriously, and that's the fatal blow.

Oh, sure, Wanted is entertaining enough sporadically. The special effects are pretty cool...the first thousand times or so. Really, does everything need to be in slow-mo? It's too show-offy, and since Wanted kind of drags, maybe it's not the best course of action to prolong that feeling. And WE GET IT - the bullets curve! Learn a new trick!

The acting is enjoyable. Morgan Freeman gets to play a badass bad guy for once (whoops, spoiler? I can't remember if that's a huge secret, but trust me, it doesn't matter) and has some hilarious lines. Angelina Jolie is back in badass form herself. She's hot, sexy, aloof eye candy, but not much else, although to be fair to Jolie, who I respect a lot, her character isn't really required to be more than that.

On that note, Angelina Jolie and James McAvoy are beautiful, beautiful people. They're hot. Easy on the eyes. So, let me pause to include some gratuitous pictures:

Pretty people with guns. God bless America.

[Insert segway back to the review here.]

James McAvoy stole the show for me. I loved seeing him playing an assassin-in-training so soon after seeing him in a weepy melodrama (Atonement). His character in Wanted is Wesley, a corporate cubicle drone (the Office Space vibe is perfect because he really sells it). McAvoy brings nuance to the role and actually made me care (a little) about Wesley's conflict - should he stay at his humdrum job and be a nobody all his life, or, don't laugh, should he follow his destiny, become an assassin, and be a part of something bigger?

The fact that McAvoy made me care at all is a triumph for him as an actor, because the plot is rather stupid and unremarkable. This fraternity of assassins, which is centuries and centuries old, was started by, I guess, weavers. They take their orders from the - are you ready for it? - Loom of Fate. The Loom...of Fate. Sigh. The loom literally weaves out a name, and they kill that person. Right, I'm sure fabric is never wrong. The Loom of Fate is perhaps the lamest plot device/prop ever. Stick a curved bullet in this movie. It's done.

Pop quiz, Hot Shot: what do you get when a movie isn't smart, thrilling, or inventive enough to be a great action film, cleverly over-the-top, insightful, or committed enough to be a parody, and has no substance or story to fill in the gaps?

Answer: Wanted.

Rating: ** (out of 5)

P.S. The Loom of Fate has just produced a name for me: Danny Elfman.

How I could have neglected to mention him in this review confounds me. Danny Elfman composed the score for Wanted, which, honestly, I don't remember one bit. And I don't plan on refreshing my memory. Sorry, Danny. I wasn't really paying attention to the score because I didn't know it was him until the end credits rolled. When his name popped up, I was stunned. I guess the score's adequate for what it needs to be. Whatever, though. I highly suspect that this was a paycheck movie for him and the main actors.

That being said, I somehow found my way to the score on iTunes because I did recall a killer song over the end credits. To my surprise and considerable delight, the song, entitled "The Little Things," one of the best alt-rock tracks I've heard in years, was written and performed by...Danny Elfman! Songwriting, in the lyric-y sense, is rare for him since he gave up his music career to focus on compositional work, so I cherish this song because I know how special it is coming from him now. His voice is smooth, melodic, commanding, sexy, catchy perfection. He hasn't lost his rocker touch one bit over the years.

This song is the best part of Wanted. Download it.

Phew. I'm glad the Loom of Fate had my back on that one...

Hello, WALL-E!

I'm not sure if Pixar is even trying to make films for kids anymore, and I love them for that (as a non-child). They're definitely still advertising for kids, though, because I was totally blindsided by the scope, beauty, and social resonance of WALL-E. The commercials made it seem kind of goofy, like all WALL-E did was run into things in a cute fashion. While he does run into a lot of things, and very cutely at that, the clumsiness is only one facet of WALL-E's personality. Ironically, a robot who communicates mainly with noises is more three-dimensional than most humans in films today. In that same vein, WALL-E is much, much better than most films released today, animated or otherwise. I don't think of WALL-E as an animated film, or a kids' one - I just think of it as a film, a true piece of art. And that's maybe the highest compliment I can give it.

Watching WALL-E, I felt like I was seeing a film for the first time. It's a completely transcendent experience. I've rarely been gripped by such a palpable sense of awe. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Here's the plot: It's 700 years in the future, Earth is a post-apocalyptic wasteland (with visuals worthy of something like Children of Men) unable to sustain life, the complacently clueless surviving humans are living on a huge space liner somewhere in the galaxy, turned into drooling androids by their total dependence on technology, and WALL-E has been left behind on Earth, totally alone. Well, he has a cockroach friend, and we all know the implications of that. There are plenty of Twinkies, too, and as the myth goes...well, we know that what happened to Earth was catastrophic. WALL-E's function is to compact trash and make it into tidy little boxes. Then, he stacks them and creates buildings out of the garbage. He's been there long enough to have his own metropolis. This is all WALL-E knows, what's he been programmed to do. But somewhere during the course of those 700 years, WALL-E developed a personality and a desire to want more from his existence. While compacting, he picks out the items he likes and hordes them, very much like Ariel from The Little Mermaid. "Look at this stuff, isn't it neat?" Sorry, I couldn't help myself.

So, one day WALL-E is dutifully going about his work, which is lorded over by the ghosts of a mega-company called Buy N Large (stores, billboards, talking ads loom over the city), and a spaceship lands, leaving behind a robot. This robot looks fancy (WALL-E is falling apart), exhibits some aggressive tendencies, and is focused on her (yes, her) objective - scanning Earth for vegetation to see if it's okay to repopulate. Her name is EVE, and the survival of mankind hinges on her discoveries. Pretty brilliant, huh?

WALL-E falls instantly in love with EVE, and she kind of likes him, too. Well, it turns out that WALL-E did find a tiny plant, and when he shows it to EVE in his efforts to impress her with his loot, she scans it, gets the green affirmative symbol, puts the precious proof of life inside of her, and locks down. WALL-E is crushed and continues to care for EVE even though she's turned off (literally) and can't respond. It's incredibly romantic. Soon, EVE's ship comes back to reclaim her, and WALL-E, smitten, tags along on the outside of the craft. They then end up at the Axiom, the luxury liner in outer space housing the humans. The rest of the film follows the fate of that one plant, and ultimately the fate of humanity. That's heavy stuff for ANY film, but even more impressive because it's in this one.


I can't imagine how kids have reacted to WALL-E. Even I couldn't wrap my mind around all of the things that the film was saying. I continue to vigorously ponder its messages. I've seen it twice, and I know there's still more untapped brilliance waiting to be found on subsequent viewings. All I can say is that I think they'll appreciate it when they get older; for now, they're just happy with the slapstick and the adorable merchandise (and WALL-E is a total cutie pie). Speaking of the slapstick in the film, it's on par with anything Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, or Harold Lloyd ever did. I've heard that after seeing Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Chaplin bestowed a standing ovation upon it. He would for WALL-E, too, and it would be even longer and more exuberant. WALL-E contains some of the most intricately choreographed and marvelous physical comedy I've ever seen (Pixar also plays around with it quite a bit in the fantastic magic-themed short preceding WALL-E, Presto). The film contains very little dialogue (Jeff Garlin as the ship's captain and Sigourney Weaver as the voice of the ship's computer get the most to say, and do a great job at it - the rest of the communication is in "robot speak", which I'll explain later), but there's always something going on that no doubt had to be elaborately described in the script, which is why I think this would be the ideal screenplay for film students just starting out and making silents (as I did at Columbia) to study.

WALL-E is a masterful specimen of filmmaking. Technically, it's flawless. The animation is staggering, as you would expect, but don't take it for granted. The visuals are the perfect blend of tasty and nutritious. I felt like I was devouring the screen. The score by Thomas Newman is simultaneously grave and gorgeous and sure to be nominated for an Oscar (if Ratatouille got a nomination for a totally forgettable score, WALL-E is definitely worthy of a nomination and should, justice provided, get one, the latter depending on what other scores pop up as the year goes along, of course). I am, however, POSITIVE that Peter Gabriel's hauntingly catchy tune o'er the end credits, "Down to Earth," will be nominated for Best Original Song. The script by Andrew Stanton and Pete Docter, like I already mentioned, is a triumph. Stanton also directs, proving that he is Pixar's resident genius (sorry, Brad Bird), the force to be reckoned with around the studio. He confidently conducts WALL-E like a symphony.


The robotic voice work is stunning. WALL-E and EVE only communicate by saying their names, making sounds, or repeating a few choice words. Yet, more is expressed with the simplest "EVE" or "WALL-E" in this film than with the most articulate, long-winded soliloquy. Ben Burtt is the sound design maestro responsible for WALL-E (and other characters, including the spunky cleaning bot M-O). Elissa Knight, an actual human, provided the voice for EVE, but it was digitized by Burtt. WALL-E is the result of no human voice whatsoever - only noises mind-blowingly created and mixed together by Burtt. It's unbelievable how much emotion is packed into WALL-E's voice. If WALL-E doesn't get some kind of sound Oscar or recognition for Burtt (through the techie Oscars, at least), then I'll have beef with the Academy...and we all know that's unusual for me.

WALL-E is truly one of the most endearing and complex characters ever created. I adore his dedication and loyalty (to EVE and to his work), indomitable spirit, selflessness, hopefulness, belief in the power of love, and even his anxiety and neuroses. His relationship with EVE is exquisite. WALL-E is seriously one of the most romantic films ever made. One particularly breathtaking scene involves WALL-E, EVE, the stars, and a fire extinguisher. It's a lover's ballet. I was rooting for these two robots to get together more than I do for most live action pairs. And it didn't seem the least bit silly, not even when WALL-E's sole romantic inspiration, his only basis for love, is a worn-out VHS of Hello, Dolly! that teaches him how to court, dance, kiss, and hold hands (the most important gesture of affection and devotion for WALL-E).

Without telling you what happens, WALL-E is perhaps the single most subtle, beautiful, and effective cautionary tale about humanity's greed, over-consumption, all-encompassing reliance on technology, lack of interpersonal connections, and disregard for the environment and Earth, all of which allows them to continue their mindless self-destruction. Does that sound harsh? The sad part is that it's not inaccurate. I'm a cynic (frankly, any American not after 8 years of Dubya deserves a Nobel Peace Prize or something), and WALL-E gave me hope that things could change, but not without shaking my soul first. WALL-E is quite a dark film, but it's disguised so well that you might not even realize it until it's over. I was enthralled from the first second, but even then, it managed to sneak up on me and hit me hard.

I've heard people say that all of the humans on Earth were saved and are now living on the Axiom liner. I don't know when the last time you counted was, but last time I checked, we were hovering around six billion people on the planet. There are not six billion people on that ship. Not even close. Most of humanity is extinct. And of the people on the ship, most are white (not sure if that was intentional, but it probably was). They're also all really fat due to the comforts of technology (space gravity is an issue, as well - bone loss and what not), and they don't know how to function or interact without it. The passengers float around (literally) in a totally clueless, comatose state. It's very pod people-esque, as evidenced by the captain's proclamation after snapping out of it: "I don't want to survive! I want to live!" I think the sheep-like, sedated state of the people on the ship means two things: 1) humankind needs to cool it with the technology, escape its clutches, and learn to live without it, and 2) the remaining government wants the people rendered helpless so they don't ask questions. That's scary in its feasibility.

So, since we see that cockroaches and Twinkies are still around, we know that there was some huge nuclear crisis that caused destruction of the planet as well as a holocaust. Whether this happened before or after the rampant pollution, I'm not sure, nor does it matter. Earth is completely covered in garbage. In fact, since there's no room for it on Earth anymore (despite the compacting efforts of WALL-E and his colleagues), trash is being projected ("disposed of") into space. The general climate of the film also leads me to believe that global warming eventually lived up to the hype. Apparently, a lot happened, and it was all our fault. I'm not being facetious either. Earth didn't destroy itself - we did. WALL-E deals with these issues deeply, sensitively, and movingly without reducing the severity of its moral and social messages one bit. And despite all of the horrible stuff that happens to humanity in the film, the real beauty of WALL-E is that it's not nihilistic. How refreshing and remarkable.

There have been rumors about WALL-E getting a Best Picture nod, and I wouldn't be surprised. It deserves it. I'm not sure what'll happen if it ends up getting nominated for Best Picture AND Best Animated Film (I mean, whether it'll split the votes and tragically get nothing), but I'd like to at least see. Here's my predictions for WALL-E's Oscar nominations: Best Picture, Best Sound Design, Best Animated Film, Best Score, Best Original Song, Best Screenplay. We'll see how right or wrong I am in about six months.

I have never liked 2001. Yeah, yeah, I know. Cue the throwing of the rotten fruit and vegetables. I just think it's boring as all heck. BUT, I respect it tremendously. It's the benchmark that started science fiction as we know it now. I would even call it the quintessential science fiction film. WALL-E is also worthy of that title. It's just as significant historically, socially, and cinematically, but I find it fascinating and enchanting as a story to boot. WALL-E displays as much reverence toward the beauty and bigger-than-us quality of outer space and life as 2001, and it's truly as powerful, profound, and philosophical as 2001, or any other science fiction film for that matter (I recently compared Danny Boyle's Sunshine to 2001 in its awe-inspiring nature, divine visuals, and poignancy, and I stand by it). That's darn good company to keep.

WALL-E moved me so deeply and stole my heart. It made me laugh, it made me think, and it made me cry. As generic as those last statements of mine might be, I promise WALL-E is anything but.


In the increasingly impressive Pixar pantheon, WALL-E is the best. It's also the second best film I've seen in 2008 so far.

Rating: ***** (out of 5)