Going to see Super 8 was an audible call in the first place. I was going to see the latest forgettable chapter of the X-Men series, which I always enjoy but never absorb. I had a vague impression of Super 8 as an alien or monster film from a trailer a couple of months ago. Aliens and monsters aren’t really my bag, but I went on Metacritic to see if I could be talked into it, on account of J.J. Abrams (I’m a recovering Lost nerd). All the critics spoke of homage to early Steven Spielberg (who helped produce the film) and other films of that era, but the many seemed to speak well of it.
Super 8 takes place in an Ohio steel-mill town in the late 70s. Our protagonist, Joe Lamb (Joel Courtney), recently lost her mother to an industrial accident, and thereafter struggles to connect with his father, a deputy sheriff (Kyle Chandler, or Coach Taylor on Friday Night Lights). That summer, Joe and his friends are absorbed making a zombie movie for a local Super 8 film festival. Charles (Riley Griffiths), the director and Joe’s best friend, asks Alice (Elle Fanning, sister of Dakota) to play the romantic lead.
One night, while clandestinely filming a scene at the town’s old train station, one of the Air Force’s trains wrecks in spectacular fashion. They all survive, but receive an ominous warning from their science teacher, who caused the wreck, to keep quiet about it. The rest of the story unfolds as the group struggles to complete their film, Joe and Alice struggle to connect, and the town deals with the Air Force’s unusual investigation to the whole affair.
The trailer wasn’t misleading in that the film does have an alien (freed during the crash), but it’s not a movie about aliens. Despite half-hearted narrative attempts to the contrary, the alien itself come across as an object more than a person. But as the young auteur Charles explains when questioned what Alice adds to his movie, you have to make the audience care what happens to the characters.
I was invested in the lives of the kids (not only Joe and Alice, but also Charles and even young pyromaniac Cary, played with aplomb by Ryan Lee) due to superb acting and smart economy of characterization. Admittedly, Courtney is helped by having an open, sincere face like the one that helped Patrick Fugit carry Almost Famous a decade ago, but I digress. One of the most fun and fulfilling moments of Super 8 was when the exiting audience froze to watch “The Case” (the kids’ zombie flick) play alongside the credits.
There are other little touches that made me smile, like Michael Giacchino’s purposefully antiquated score, or how the kids named their zombie adversary Romero Chemical in honor of legendary zombie master George Romero, because it’s the kind of things kids would do. Certainly, one of the most fun and fulfilling moments of Super 8 is when “The Case” (the group’s zombie flick) flickers alongside the credits to the actual movie.
As to the aforementioned charge that this film is pure early-Spielberg, I must admit I was only mildly cognizant such characteristics to begin with (for example, I’ve never seen Close Encounters of the Third Kind and haven’t seen E.T. since I was eight or so). I will say that if you’re as ignorant as I am about it, Super 8 won’t fail any comparison tests to such films, but won’t win any unearned affection for this, either.
Here’s what hamstrings the movie just a bit for me, though. And I believe this is somewhat indicative of those Spielberg and (Rob Reiner, et al.) films. The characters are supposed to be the strength, but often their circumstances have too much artifice to make them feel fully resonant, but rather idealized. For instance, it feels a little obvious (if affecting) way to use Joe’s choice about whether to hold on to his mother’s necklace to comment upon the movie’s themes. His plea to the alien also feels a little on-the-nose. And when his dad and Alice’s dad bury the hatchet on a long-standing feud, it borders on glib.
Anyway, despite these complaints, I liked the film a lot. I’d pick Super 8 over an X-Men feature any day of the week, and certainly over most of the crap in theatres during summer. And I’m encouraged by Abrams’ first crack at directing original source material (indeed, it’s his own). But Super 8 just isn’t quite the classic it seems to aspire to be. “Your mileage may vary”, as it’s said, based on your penchant for summer nostalgia, stomach for saccharine sincerity, and ability to suppress cynicism.
Super 8 is rated PG-13 for intense sequences of sci-fi action and violence and some drug use.
June 12, 2011
December 30, 2010
True Grit
I never saw the original 1969 adaptation of True Grit. I have had plans to go with some friends to see the 2010 remake by the Coen Brothers for a few weeks, so I had time if I had wanted to investigate. However, not having come by the original naturally, I wanted to see the new movie on its own terms. Whenever I read (or re-read) a book in anticipation of its cinematic adaptation, I start to demand things emotionally from it before it even starts.
With that said, I researched the tale after viewing the movie for this review. Obvious differences were drawn between the 1969 and 2010 movies, but what I found interesting is how people said much of the dialogue was taken from the 1968 book by Charles Portis. To me, and my friends, the dialogue was hilarious in typical Coen Brothers fashion: meant to make the audience, but never the characters, laugh uproariously. Part of it was simply sentence structure and the face of absurdity. But such humour was tempered by so many stark shots of shot and mangled corpses. It is often gallows humour and its finest, and once during True Grit, humour is literally spouted from on a gallows.I’d mislead to say this is a comedy, however. It’s a violent tale of revenge, narrated by a woman who has no time for foolishness. But all the characters are often foolish just the same.
The thing that most irked me about the movie is the credits on the poster: Jeff Bridges, Matt Damon, Josh Brolin. Josh Brolin? He’s can’t be in the film for more than twenty minutes! His name must be on the poster as a favor from the Coens for his role as Llewelyn Moss in No Country for Old Men, because I have never heard Brolin’s name sway anybody to see a movie. The name that should be in his place is Hailee Steinfeld, a 14 year-old actress who I had never heard of before, but I want to hear more about in the future. Her delivery of dialogue projects much more of a maturity than I would have expected. The film is solidly centered on her character, Mattie Ross.
Briefly, this is the plot: Ross, a 14 year-old girl arrives in Fort Smith, Arkansas, to settle the affairs of her father, who was murdered by the dastardly Tom Chaney. She hires the gruff Rooster Cogburn (Bridges) to track him through the Indian Territory to capture him and bring him to justice. An officious Texas Ranger named La Boeuf (pronounced “Le Beef” by Bridges), who is also seeking Chaney for a reward on his head because of his murder of a Texas senator. Despite squabbling within their group, and the foibles of each painfully on display, they all prove their “true grit” by the end of the movie.
Another thing Coen Brothers trademark on this movie is a palette of neutral colors, used masterfully. You can kind of tell how dirty and awful everything is—from Rooster’s hygiene to the dusty plains of Oklahoma—without being grossed out or distracted by it. Even when I’m not crazy about their films, I usually admire their cinematography.
Ultimately, if it isn’t obvious, I liked the film a lot and would recommend this to anybody old enough to see it. It’s definitely one of my top five movies of the whole year. It’s not a heady or intellectual film, but you’ll be required to be on your toes if you want to truly appreciate its presentation.
True Grit is rated PG-13 for some intense sequences of western violence including disturbing images.
With that said, I researched the tale after viewing the movie for this review. Obvious differences were drawn between the 1969 and 2010 movies, but what I found interesting is how people said much of the dialogue was taken from the 1968 book by Charles Portis. To me, and my friends, the dialogue was hilarious in typical Coen Brothers fashion: meant to make the audience, but never the characters, laugh uproariously. Part of it was simply sentence structure and the face of absurdity. But such humour was tempered by so many stark shots of shot and mangled corpses. It is often gallows humour and its finest, and once during True Grit, humour is literally spouted from on a gallows.I’d mislead to say this is a comedy, however. It’s a violent tale of revenge, narrated by a woman who has no time for foolishness. But all the characters are often foolish just the same.
The thing that most irked me about the movie is the credits on the poster: Jeff Bridges, Matt Damon, Josh Brolin. Josh Brolin? He’s can’t be in the film for more than twenty minutes! His name must be on the poster as a favor from the Coens for his role as Llewelyn Moss in No Country for Old Men, because I have never heard Brolin’s name sway anybody to see a movie. The name that should be in his place is Hailee Steinfeld, a 14 year-old actress who I had never heard of before, but I want to hear more about in the future. Her delivery of dialogue projects much more of a maturity than I would have expected. The film is solidly centered on her character, Mattie Ross.
Briefly, this is the plot: Ross, a 14 year-old girl arrives in Fort Smith, Arkansas, to settle the affairs of her father, who was murdered by the dastardly Tom Chaney. She hires the gruff Rooster Cogburn (Bridges) to track him through the Indian Territory to capture him and bring him to justice. An officious Texas Ranger named La Boeuf (pronounced “Le Beef” by Bridges), who is also seeking Chaney for a reward on his head because of his murder of a Texas senator. Despite squabbling within their group, and the foibles of each painfully on display, they all prove their “true grit” by the end of the movie.
Another thing Coen Brothers trademark on this movie is a palette of neutral colors, used masterfully. You can kind of tell how dirty and awful everything is—from Rooster’s hygiene to the dusty plains of Oklahoma—without being grossed out or distracted by it. Even when I’m not crazy about their films, I usually admire their cinematography.
Ultimately, if it isn’t obvious, I liked the film a lot and would recommend this to anybody old enough to see it. It’s definitely one of my top five movies of the whole year. It’s not a heady or intellectual film, but you’ll be required to be on your toes if you want to truly appreciate its presentation.
True Grit is rated PG-13 for some intense sequences of western violence including disturbing images.
October 2, 2010
The Social Network
2010 seems to be an absolutely brutal year for filmmaking so far. I mean, people may have been making great movies, but I personally have not been seeing them. Even in that context, The Social Network is—at early October—my favorite movie of the year by a wide margin.
It’s a brilliant piece of filmmaking, with two narrative strands working on separate but complementary levels: one is about the development of Facebook, and the other is a high-stakes but ultimately familiar-feeling tale of social and business intrigue. The Facebook thread details the masterful sociological planning of how Facebook became so big (and important enough to make a movie about). The second is a well-crafted coming-of-age tale of Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg), made unusual mostly by the fact he becomes an internet billionaire.
The one thing I caution that would absolutely cripple your enjoyment of this movie is by too-earnestly ruminating about the historical accuracy of the second narrative strand. Does Erica Albright (Rooney Mara), the girl whose initial rejection of Zuckerberg is a catalyst for the movie’s events, even exist? Who cares? The only person to whom the verisimilitude of the character of Mark to the actual person of Zuckerberg is Mark Zuckerberg. The value of Citizen Kane (although I’m not comparing the two movies further than this metaphor) is not affected by how much Charles Foster Kane mirrored William Randolph Hearst. The Social Network is a feature, not a documentary. But it does highlight some fascinating points about Facebook, which has integrated itself into the daily lives of many. Many details are probably altered, but something along these lines probably happened, because the products of the characters’ actions came into being.
Although I heard some time ago the film derisively described as Facebook: The Movie, that’s precisely what (half of) it is. Facebook, I think it’s fair to say, is no longer very cool. That is to say, it’s not cool like e-mail isn’t cool. How cool it is doesn’t factor into its current importance as much as how essential it has become. Sean Parker (Justin Timberlake), the founder of Napster and impish and manipulative mentor to Mark in the film, gleefully declares, “We used to live in villages. Then we moved to cities. Now we live on the internet!” Although the movie mostly infers (rather than refers to) this, Facebook became pragmatic and necessary only after it became humongous by being cool. And, I must admit, there is a small, cheap thrill in being one of the background cast of thousands who sign up and spend their time on Facebook during the recognizable chronology of the movie.
That’s the brains of the movie. Its heart is the story of Mark Zuckerberg (i.e. the character, and not the actual person). The narrative is set up within the context of dual lawsuits against Mark by his former best friend and business partner Eduardo and two Harvard gentlemen-jocks, the Winklevoss twins (both played by Andrew Garfield), who contributed a key idea to Facebook’s formation. The lawsuits are clearly only storytelling devices by the end of the movie, because the outcomes ultimately prove inconsequential to Zuckerberg. Their unimportance may seem bothersome at first, but ultimately their superfluousness is itself superfluous. The personal narrative strand of the story is complete, and the story of Mark’s relationship to Eduardo has reached its conclusion.
Mark gradually cuts Eduardo out of the business, but not unreasonably. Eduardo’s ideas about Facebook as a business model are old-fashioned and ultimately incorrect, but his dealings are always motivated by earnestness and loyalty to Mark as a friend. Mark is not portrayed by The Social Network as a villain (or as exactly an asshole, which is more to the point in the twenty-something target demographic), but as driven by his big ideas and ambivalent to ethics and ideals. He can’t reign in his self-absorption to save his relationships with Erica or Eduardo, but is deeply hurt by their inevitable rejection of him. Whereas Mark is a genius in figuring out people on a macro scale, his is hopeless at the interpersonal level. He’d almost be a tragic figure, if not for the billions of dollars and untold cultural power.
With so much substance to The Social Network, the movie gains an almost subliminal quality by how stylish it is. It’s occasionally sexy without being too explicit, and often hilarious without ever asking for the laughs. The story moves much too fast for moody ruminations, but it sneaks in moments of atmosphere. I specifically remember how the film evokes the lonely a college campus can become as Mark runs past the elegant Harvard buildings to his dorm after his break-up with Erica. The ubiquity of the programmers’ presence emphasizes how much work the the technical logistics were without taking a boring detour to focus on them. I can’t tell whether the ending is brilliant or just too on-the-nose, and the structure doesn’t feel entirely natural, but overall the film feels utterly satisfactory.
Everybody in this cast does a great job, or at least naturally fits into their roles. I love Jesse Eisenberg (Adventureland and Zombieland were amazing), although I’m not quite yet convinced of his versatility as an actor. He does a great job as Mark here, without the luxury of his usual awkward charm to lean on. Also, there’s enough approximate physical similarity for Mark Zuckerberg to have used him as his celebrity doppelgänger on Facebook, if it weren’t all so meta. Rooney Mara, who plays a small but important part as Erica, is going to be huge soon. Not Angelina Jolie huge, but Natalie Portman huge, as I can only anticipate an intellectual/hipster bent to her popularity. Armie Hammer seamlessly pulls of the task of playing the separate and always simultaneously present Winklevoss twins, and Andrew Garfield brings soul to perhaps the only sympathetic character, Eduardo.
I certainly understand some people will be turned off by the very positive early press the movie is getting, or that “based-on-facts” movies can be obnoxious or discordant with reality, especially topical ones, but I would recommend this very quality piece of cinema to anybody, especially about my age (early 20s). It’s an entertaining think-piece, and it rated so well for me that I’m certainly going to catch it a second time.
The Social Network is rated PG-13 for sexual content, drug and alcohol use, and language.
Of course, perhaps I'm taking this all too seriously. This sort of thing usually happens when Aaron Sorkin gets involved. The fact that I forgot to even mention his screenwriting tells how much I enjoyed the movie.
It’s a brilliant piece of filmmaking, with two narrative strands working on separate but complementary levels: one is about the development of Facebook, and the other is a high-stakes but ultimately familiar-feeling tale of social and business intrigue. The Facebook thread details the masterful sociological planning of how Facebook became so big (and important enough to make a movie about). The second is a well-crafted coming-of-age tale of Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg), made unusual mostly by the fact he becomes an internet billionaire.
The one thing I caution that would absolutely cripple your enjoyment of this movie is by too-earnestly ruminating about the historical accuracy of the second narrative strand. Does Erica Albright (Rooney Mara), the girl whose initial rejection of Zuckerberg is a catalyst for the movie’s events, even exist? Who cares? The only person to whom the verisimilitude of the character of Mark to the actual person of Zuckerberg is Mark Zuckerberg. The value of Citizen Kane (although I’m not comparing the two movies further than this metaphor) is not affected by how much Charles Foster Kane mirrored William Randolph Hearst. The Social Network is a feature, not a documentary. But it does highlight some fascinating points about Facebook, which has integrated itself into the daily lives of many. Many details are probably altered, but something along these lines probably happened, because the products of the characters’ actions came into being.
Although I heard some time ago the film derisively described as Facebook: The Movie, that’s precisely what (half of) it is. Facebook, I think it’s fair to say, is no longer very cool. That is to say, it’s not cool like e-mail isn’t cool. How cool it is doesn’t factor into its current importance as much as how essential it has become. Sean Parker (Justin Timberlake), the founder of Napster and impish and manipulative mentor to Mark in the film, gleefully declares, “We used to live in villages. Then we moved to cities. Now we live on the internet!” Although the movie mostly infers (rather than refers to) this, Facebook became pragmatic and necessary only after it became humongous by being cool. And, I must admit, there is a small, cheap thrill in being one of the background cast of thousands who sign up and spend their time on Facebook during the recognizable chronology of the movie.
That’s the brains of the movie. Its heart is the story of Mark Zuckerberg (i.e. the character, and not the actual person). The narrative is set up within the context of dual lawsuits against Mark by his former best friend and business partner Eduardo and two Harvard gentlemen-jocks, the Winklevoss twins (both played by Andrew Garfield), who contributed a key idea to Facebook’s formation. The lawsuits are clearly only storytelling devices by the end of the movie, because the outcomes ultimately prove inconsequential to Zuckerberg. Their unimportance may seem bothersome at first, but ultimately their superfluousness is itself superfluous. The personal narrative strand of the story is complete, and the story of Mark’s relationship to Eduardo has reached its conclusion.
Mark gradually cuts Eduardo out of the business, but not unreasonably. Eduardo’s ideas about Facebook as a business model are old-fashioned and ultimately incorrect, but his dealings are always motivated by earnestness and loyalty to Mark as a friend. Mark is not portrayed by The Social Network as a villain (or as exactly an asshole, which is more to the point in the twenty-something target demographic), but as driven by his big ideas and ambivalent to ethics and ideals. He can’t reign in his self-absorption to save his relationships with Erica or Eduardo, but is deeply hurt by their inevitable rejection of him. Whereas Mark is a genius in figuring out people on a macro scale, his is hopeless at the interpersonal level. He’d almost be a tragic figure, if not for the billions of dollars and untold cultural power.
With so much substance to The Social Network, the movie gains an almost subliminal quality by how stylish it is. It’s occasionally sexy without being too explicit, and often hilarious without ever asking for the laughs. The story moves much too fast for moody ruminations, but it sneaks in moments of atmosphere. I specifically remember how the film evokes the lonely a college campus can become as Mark runs past the elegant Harvard buildings to his dorm after his break-up with Erica. The ubiquity of the programmers’ presence emphasizes how much work the the technical logistics were without taking a boring detour to focus on them. I can’t tell whether the ending is brilliant or just too on-the-nose, and the structure doesn’t feel entirely natural, but overall the film feels utterly satisfactory.
Everybody in this cast does a great job, or at least naturally fits into their roles. I love Jesse Eisenberg (Adventureland and Zombieland were amazing), although I’m not quite yet convinced of his versatility as an actor. He does a great job as Mark here, without the luxury of his usual awkward charm to lean on. Also, there’s enough approximate physical similarity for Mark Zuckerberg to have used him as his celebrity doppelgänger on Facebook, if it weren’t all so meta. Rooney Mara, who plays a small but important part as Erica, is going to be huge soon. Not Angelina Jolie huge, but Natalie Portman huge, as I can only anticipate an intellectual/hipster bent to her popularity. Armie Hammer seamlessly pulls of the task of playing the separate and always simultaneously present Winklevoss twins, and Andrew Garfield brings soul to perhaps the only sympathetic character, Eduardo.
I certainly understand some people will be turned off by the very positive early press the movie is getting, or that “based-on-facts” movies can be obnoxious or discordant with reality, especially topical ones, but I would recommend this very quality piece of cinema to anybody, especially about my age (early 20s). It’s an entertaining think-piece, and it rated so well for me that I’m certainly going to catch it a second time.
The Social Network is rated PG-13 for sexual content, drug and alcohol use, and language.
Of course, perhaps I'm taking this all too seriously. This sort of thing usually happens when Aaron Sorkin gets involved. The fact that I forgot to even mention his screenwriting tells how much I enjoyed the movie.
August 23, 2010
Greenberg
I would like to advocate on behalf on this overlooked gem that was released on home video earlier this month. I saw trailers for Greenberg during some of the winter movies I saw, but it wasn’t released at the Malco Grandview, or any of the other area Jackson theatres, much to my disappointment.
But, although I was encouraged by the trailer, I should point out that I had mixed expectations for this movie. And those mixed feelings were a direct result of director Noah Baumbach. Besides being the new variable in the writing team for my least favorite Wes Anderson film The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004), he also directed The Squid and the Whale (2005). The only thing I really remember about the film, besides the final image based on the titular metaphor, was the scene where a kid pulls a hand out of his pants in the middle of the library and wipes his sperm on a library book. Why would I even mention that sideshow of horror? Because that’s almost all of what I remember about the film. That’s not good filmmaking.
However, Baumbach also served as co-writer of the screenplay for Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009), which was enough for me to forgive me to try this film. And I’m glad I did.
Greenberg tells a story about Roger Greenberg (Ben Stiller), a carpenter recently discharged from a mental hospital for an undisclosed condition, who spends a few weeks in Los Angeles house- and dog-sitting for his brother’s family while they vacation. The film follows his fitful romance with his brother’s household assistant Florence (Greta Gerwig) and his attempt to rekindle a friendship a former friend and band mate Ivan (Rhys Ifans).
Typical of Baumbach’s work, and Anderson’s for that matter, plot is determined by the characters. As powerless and uncertain as they (especially Greenberg) may feel, fate rarely enters in to throw our protagonist in an extraordinary situation. Because they are not extraordinary people, such a situation does not ensue.
For instance, Greenberg is confronted by Ivan (and others) about how he put the kibosh on a record deal in their younger days that could have changed their lives. Greenberg justifies his decision by railing against record executives earlier in the movie. Yet he finally comes clean, explaining how he thought his thoughts were a personal opinion—as opposed to a decision for the group; and furthermore, he would have changed his mind if knew how it would play out. In many ways, Greenberg is the story of a man belatedly learning to take responsibility for his own life.
I would classify this as comedy, because the story arc moves broadly from disorder to order. It also does have some genuinely funny bits magnified by their context. However, most of the “jokes” and one-liners are already shown in the trailers. If you need your funny bone not just tickled but ravished, perhaps you should save Greenberg for another night.
Ben Stiller really doesn’t have much to prove anymore as actor, and he does a fine job. Although there are a few scenes of unnecessary rage that don’t seem to fit the character well, it seems more like a problem with the writing than the acting.
Greta Gerwig rises to meet Stiller’s performance as a fellow lost soul. Whereas Ifans is hamstrung by Ivan’s natural hangdog demeanor, Gerwig is allowed to put on a full range of emotion even as her character Florence bends over backward for almost everybody else, especially Greenberg. Baumbach has a couple of really affecting shots of Gerwig’s face as she rides in her car from place to place, including one that opens the movie.
My favorite scene, I must admit, is when Greenberg drunk dials Florence and admits not only his “like,” but also laments the difficulty of his new discovery, about taking responsibility for his own life. “It’s all so embarrassing,” Greenberg despairs. I know as a semi-employed recent college graduate that I can certainly relate to the sentiment. If you think you can too, then you will probably like Greenberg, and embrace him. After all, the one thing the poor putz needs most is a hug.
Greenberg is rated R for some strong sexuality, drug use, and language.
But, although I was encouraged by the trailer, I should point out that I had mixed expectations for this movie. And those mixed feelings were a direct result of director Noah Baumbach. Besides being the new variable in the writing team for my least favorite Wes Anderson film The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004), he also directed The Squid and the Whale (2005). The only thing I really remember about the film, besides the final image based on the titular metaphor, was the scene where a kid pulls a hand out of his pants in the middle of the library and wipes his sperm on a library book. Why would I even mention that sideshow of horror? Because that’s almost all of what I remember about the film. That’s not good filmmaking.
However, Baumbach also served as co-writer of the screenplay for Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009), which was enough for me to forgive me to try this film. And I’m glad I did.
Greenberg tells a story about Roger Greenberg (Ben Stiller), a carpenter recently discharged from a mental hospital for an undisclosed condition, who spends a few weeks in Los Angeles house- and dog-sitting for his brother’s family while they vacation. The film follows his fitful romance with his brother’s household assistant Florence (Greta Gerwig) and his attempt to rekindle a friendship a former friend and band mate Ivan (Rhys Ifans).
Typical of Baumbach’s work, and Anderson’s for that matter, plot is determined by the characters. As powerless and uncertain as they (especially Greenberg) may feel, fate rarely enters in to throw our protagonist in an extraordinary situation. Because they are not extraordinary people, such a situation does not ensue.
For instance, Greenberg is confronted by Ivan (and others) about how he put the kibosh on a record deal in their younger days that could have changed their lives. Greenberg justifies his decision by railing against record executives earlier in the movie. Yet he finally comes clean, explaining how he thought his thoughts were a personal opinion—as opposed to a decision for the group; and furthermore, he would have changed his mind if knew how it would play out. In many ways, Greenberg is the story of a man belatedly learning to take responsibility for his own life.
I would classify this as comedy, because the story arc moves broadly from disorder to order. It also does have some genuinely funny bits magnified by their context. However, most of the “jokes” and one-liners are already shown in the trailers. If you need your funny bone not just tickled but ravished, perhaps you should save Greenberg for another night.
Ben Stiller really doesn’t have much to prove anymore as actor, and he does a fine job. Although there are a few scenes of unnecessary rage that don’t seem to fit the character well, it seems more like a problem with the writing than the acting.
Greta Gerwig rises to meet Stiller’s performance as a fellow lost soul. Whereas Ifans is hamstrung by Ivan’s natural hangdog demeanor, Gerwig is allowed to put on a full range of emotion even as her character Florence bends over backward for almost everybody else, especially Greenberg. Baumbach has a couple of really affecting shots of Gerwig’s face as she rides in her car from place to place, including one that opens the movie.
My favorite scene, I must admit, is when Greenberg drunk dials Florence and admits not only his “like,” but also laments the difficulty of his new discovery, about taking responsibility for his own life. “It’s all so embarrassing,” Greenberg despairs. I know as a semi-employed recent college graduate that I can certainly relate to the sentiment. If you think you can too, then you will probably like Greenberg, and embrace him. After all, the one thing the poor putz needs most is a hug.
Greenberg is rated R for some strong sexuality, drug use, and language.
July 18, 2010
Inception
In my opinion, Inception, the new film by Christopher Nolan, is not a masterpiece. To be sure, I saw it sitting next to a group of people I consider it reasonably intelligent who seemed to have their minds blown. And its failure to become a hallmark of modern cinema doesn’t mean I didn’t have an enjoyable time, and leave the cinema feeling resentment for the nine dollars I spent to see it. But, this year alone, I would have said the same thing for Edge of Darkness, Shutter Island, Grown Ups, and Iron Man 2. Yes, I will go ahead and put Inception on par with those films.
Especially Shutter Island. People are starting to say not nice things about Leonardo DiCaprio. Not me. I’m all for him starting a tradition of pudgy matinee idols. I will, however, question why he would choose two films in the same year linked so closely thematically. I mean, how many times can one actor question his personal reality without being typecast?
Besides Leo, there are a few other familiar faces in Inception that usually put a smile on mine: namely, Ellen Page (Juno) and Jason Gordon-Levitt (Third Rock from the Sun, (500) Days of Summer). Other people you will recognize are Marion Cotillard (La Vie en Rose, Public Enemies), Cillian Murphy (the Scarecrow from Batman Begins), and Tom Berenger (Major League), and a cameo by Michael Caine (from you know what). I would tell you their characters’ names, except they’re kind of unimportant and forgettable, except Dom Cobb (DiCaprio), which I believe might be the most cacophonous name I’ve ever heard.
I heard a girl outside the theater decry that the plot was so unfit for articulation as to be sublime. That isn’t true at all. Two thieves (DiCaprio and Gordon-Levitt) steal information—on commission—from people’s minds. They are hired by a shadowy, important Asian man (Ken Watanabe) to plant an idea—the “inception” of the title—in the mind of the heir to a vast energy corporation (Murphy) to dissolve it. By doing this they will save the world—or something. More importantly for Cobb, shadowy Asian man will fix it so he may re-emigrate to the United States and see his children. Cobb has a lot of personal problems which I will not ruin for you.
I hope you found that synopsis riveting, because there’s a lot of exposition within the movie, with poor Page bearing the brunt of it. Nolan feels compelled to violate the first rule of writing (especially in writing a script) to show more than tell, feeling the rules of mind travel to be complex to be understood by the audience intuitively. I think this should have raised some red flags, but I digress.
One could argue that this movie isn’t so much about plot as it is a tour de force of visceral images. However, it looked pretty standard to me. I haven’t seen anything for quite a while that has taken me aback, although I foolishly passed up the opportunity to see Avatar in theatres because I thought I was taking some sort of stand for storytelling. The technical aspects make me feel like I do about the whole of the movie: my qualifications could be lacking, but what I saw in Inception was an average (though not bad) movie.
Inception is rated PG-13 for sequences of violence and action throughout.
Especially Shutter Island. People are starting to say not nice things about Leonardo DiCaprio. Not me. I’m all for him starting a tradition of pudgy matinee idols. I will, however, question why he would choose two films in the same year linked so closely thematically. I mean, how many times can one actor question his personal reality without being typecast?
Besides Leo, there are a few other familiar faces in Inception that usually put a smile on mine: namely, Ellen Page (Juno) and Jason Gordon-Levitt (Third Rock from the Sun, (500) Days of Summer). Other people you will recognize are Marion Cotillard (La Vie en Rose, Public Enemies), Cillian Murphy (the Scarecrow from Batman Begins), and Tom Berenger (Major League), and a cameo by Michael Caine (from you know what). I would tell you their characters’ names, except they’re kind of unimportant and forgettable, except Dom Cobb (DiCaprio), which I believe might be the most cacophonous name I’ve ever heard.
I heard a girl outside the theater decry that the plot was so unfit for articulation as to be sublime. That isn’t true at all. Two thieves (DiCaprio and Gordon-Levitt) steal information—on commission—from people’s minds. They are hired by a shadowy, important Asian man (Ken Watanabe) to plant an idea—the “inception” of the title—in the mind of the heir to a vast energy corporation (Murphy) to dissolve it. By doing this they will save the world—or something. More importantly for Cobb, shadowy Asian man will fix it so he may re-emigrate to the United States and see his children. Cobb has a lot of personal problems which I will not ruin for you.
I hope you found that synopsis riveting, because there’s a lot of exposition within the movie, with poor Page bearing the brunt of it. Nolan feels compelled to violate the first rule of writing (especially in writing a script) to show more than tell, feeling the rules of mind travel to be complex to be understood by the audience intuitively. I think this should have raised some red flags, but I digress.
One could argue that this movie isn’t so much about plot as it is a tour de force of visceral images. However, it looked pretty standard to me. I haven’t seen anything for quite a while that has taken me aback, although I foolishly passed up the opportunity to see Avatar in theatres because I thought I was taking some sort of stand for storytelling. The technical aspects make me feel like I do about the whole of the movie: my qualifications could be lacking, but what I saw in Inception was an average (though not bad) movie.
Inception is rated PG-13 for sequences of violence and action throughout.
May 13, 2010
Eating the Dinosaur
Eating the Dinosaur (2009) is a collection of humorous, existential essays by Chuck Klosterman written through a pop culture paradigm. I, not having $25 to spend on the hard-cover at Barnes & Noble, chased it down through my local library. After having read it, I’m still not sure I would have bought the hard-cover. Maybe if I’d had the patience to wait for the paperback.
I’ve read Chuck Klosterman before, reading his Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs: A Low-Culture Manifesto earlier this year. It’s his most well-known work, and sort of developed his reputation for spending entirely too much brainpower on disposable culture like Guns ‘N Roses, Saved by the Bell, The Real World, and the like. The stuff he was talking about wasn’t brand new then, and its relevancy hasn’t aged well. Nevertheless, I could tell the guy’s a thinker. His last essay about the Second Coming (spoiler: he’s not a believer, but he takes the subject seriously). That’s Klosterman’s strength really, being serious about a subject, but never quite being serious about himself and his certitude.
I can see his growth as a writer six years later, and he’s often sharper in his analysis. I read several essays at least twice, and they stayed engaging. My favorites were “Football,” “ABBA 1, World 0,” and “Oh, the Guilt.”
“Football” redefined something I thought I knew very well, which was kind of the point of the essay. Although I will say this: I was knowledgeable enough to know when he was used generalities, as he undoubtedly usually does to come to sweeping opinions. In other places, I wouldn’t see it. “ABBA 1, World 0” just made me laugh. I hate ABBA (my mother loves the Momma Mia soundtrack), but Klosterman explains, in winningly comical fashion, why it’s a force. “Oh, the Guilt,” makes a surprising but convincing connection between the psychological and aesthetic decline of Kurt Cobain and the Branch Davidian disaster in Waco.
My least favorites are toward the end of the book, “It Will Shock You How Much It Never Happened” and “T is for True.” “Shock You,” an exploration of how advertising still wins hearts and minds now that, in modern times, its duplicity is intellectually transparent. Are you confused? I sure was. I’m not saying that because’s something esoteric, its less valuable. Klosterman always offers half-entertainment, half-philosophy. I just think the philosophy’s a little hazy here.
The same goes for “T is for True,” which uses Weezer, Ralph Nader, and film direction Warner Herzog as counter-examples of the non-literal society we now live in. I disagree with what I believe is his conclusion: that when all is figurative, all will lose meaning. I mean, maybe he’s right, but I don’t believe we’re all completely non-literal.
So, in conclusion: is this book worth your time? When reviewing books, I want to be more clear here, as the time investment is necessarily greater than with movies. My answer: probably only if you think he’s funny. As a sort of litmus test, I’ll share with you one of my biggest laughs of the book (of which there were many).
The joke comes from a non-sequitar fictional interview about salesmenship. The interviewer asks, “Do you have any advice for aspiring salesmen?” The salesman replies, “People always say, ‘Don’t take ‘no’ for an answer,’ but that’s wrong. That’s how rapists think. You’ll waste a thousand afternoons if that’s your attitude. However, never take ‘maybe’ for an answer. Ninety perecent fo the time, ‘maybe’ means ‘probably.’ Just keep talking.”
I’ve read Chuck Klosterman before, reading his Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs: A Low-Culture Manifesto earlier this year. It’s his most well-known work, and sort of developed his reputation for spending entirely too much brainpower on disposable culture like Guns ‘N Roses, Saved by the Bell, The Real World, and the like. The stuff he was talking about wasn’t brand new then, and its relevancy hasn’t aged well. Nevertheless, I could tell the guy’s a thinker. His last essay about the Second Coming (spoiler: he’s not a believer, but he takes the subject seriously). That’s Klosterman’s strength really, being serious about a subject, but never quite being serious about himself and his certitude.
I can see his growth as a writer six years later, and he’s often sharper in his analysis. I read several essays at least twice, and they stayed engaging. My favorites were “Football,” “ABBA 1, World 0,” and “Oh, the Guilt.”
“Football” redefined something I thought I knew very well, which was kind of the point of the essay. Although I will say this: I was knowledgeable enough to know when he was used generalities, as he undoubtedly usually does to come to sweeping opinions. In other places, I wouldn’t see it. “ABBA 1, World 0” just made me laugh. I hate ABBA (my mother loves the Momma Mia soundtrack), but Klosterman explains, in winningly comical fashion, why it’s a force. “Oh, the Guilt,” makes a surprising but convincing connection between the psychological and aesthetic decline of Kurt Cobain and the Branch Davidian disaster in Waco.
My least favorites are toward the end of the book, “It Will Shock You How Much It Never Happened” and “T is for True.” “Shock You,” an exploration of how advertising still wins hearts and minds now that, in modern times, its duplicity is intellectually transparent. Are you confused? I sure was. I’m not saying that because’s something esoteric, its less valuable. Klosterman always offers half-entertainment, half-philosophy. I just think the philosophy’s a little hazy here.
The same goes for “T is for True,” which uses Weezer, Ralph Nader, and film direction Warner Herzog as counter-examples of the non-literal society we now live in. I disagree with what I believe is his conclusion: that when all is figurative, all will lose meaning. I mean, maybe he’s right, but I don’t believe we’re all completely non-literal.
So, in conclusion: is this book worth your time? When reviewing books, I want to be more clear here, as the time investment is necessarily greater than with movies. My answer: probably only if you think he’s funny. As a sort of litmus test, I’ll share with you one of my biggest laughs of the book (of which there were many).
The joke comes from a non-sequitar fictional interview about salesmenship. The interviewer asks, “Do you have any advice for aspiring salesmen?” The salesman replies, “People always say, ‘Don’t take ‘no’ for an answer,’ but that’s wrong. That’s how rapists think. You’ll waste a thousand afternoons if that’s your attitude. However, never take ‘maybe’ for an answer. Ninety perecent fo the time, ‘maybe’ means ‘probably.’ Just keep talking.”
April 21, 2010
Radio Quality?
Artist: OneRepublic
Album: Waking Up
Label: Interscope Records
Generally, I don’t listen to the radio. I find it to be bad for my mental well-being. However, due to my rampant absent-mindedness I sometimes forget my mp3 player when I go grocery shopping, and since the steady hum of car tires eventually grows a little unnerving, I will in such cases turn on the radio, cross my fingers, and hope for the best. One magical morning, as I turned the dial of my car stereo, my ears were assaulted by OneRepublic’s “All The Right Moves.”
The chorus of “All The Right Moves” immediately grabbed my attention—in a good way. It is magnificently huge and upbeat, the instrumentation is decidedly rock bandish, and the lyrics are pumped full of well-meaning ambiguities. In short, I found it to be the perfect soundtrack for a day of mundane errand-running.
A week or so later, I accidentally stumbled upon Waking Up while browsing the internet. The cover art intrigued me. I liked the simplicity. I liked the pretty colors. So I bought the album.
And I initially enjoyed what I was hearing. “Made For You” starts things off strong with a piano melody ripe for the arena and a wiry vocal line that could be found on a Lovedrug album. “All The Right Moves” follows, after an odd excursion into studio noise and large choir land (which may or may not have been pulled off successfully, depending on how cynical I am when making the judgment).
“Secrets” lags a little, but “Everybody Loves Me” picks the pace back up with a blues-tinged guitar riff and the perfect mix of irony and sincerity. However, many of the songs on the latter half of the album aren’t quite as radio-ready as “All The Right Moves.” In fact, Waking Up actually moves slower and more deliberately than I had expected. As a result, I became a bit bored.
However, after adjusting my expectations for the album, I approached it again and began to sense more of its excellence. OneRepublic plays safe music that borders on arena rock, takes hints from hip-hop, and glories in its accessibility. If you’re expecting your musical mind to be blown, you will be massively disappointed by Waking Up. But if you are in the mood for easy to digest tunes sprinkled with the occasional moment of excellence, OneRepublic is the band for you.
Throughout Waking Up, Ryan Tedder’s voice occupies center stage. This is a good thing, as Tedder has a great deal of control over his voice, and he varies up his delivery in a variety of ways. He can belt out gospel-sounding licks, croon a quiet lullaby, or hit that elusive note for a hair-raising chorus.
Behind Tedder, the band churns out a steady stream of unimpeachable musicianship. They bounce back and forth from Beck-like guitar riffs to Viva La Vida inspired instrumental postludes. No single element takes too much of the spotlight—the interplay between pianos, organs, guitars, and strings is part of what keeps things interesting.
Lyrically, Waking Up resides in the realm of big, fuzzy pictures with lines like “Say oh, got this feeling that you can't fight/Like this city is on fire tonight/This could really be a good life/A good, good life.” Later in the album, Tedder contemplates the fearlessness of children, promises to return to a lost love, and expresses hope for the future. All good things, certainly, but I would prefer the songwriting to be a little more focused.
Admittedly, the band has demonstrated that they have the ability to write big songs with big hooks. If they were to throw a little more creativity into the songwriting and take a few musical chances, I would call myself a fan. As it is, I count OneRepublic a guilty pleasure and a not altogether unpleasant discovery.
Album: Waking Up
Label: Interscope Records
Generally, I don’t listen to the radio. I find it to be bad for my mental well-being. However, due to my rampant absent-mindedness I sometimes forget my mp3 player when I go grocery shopping, and since the steady hum of car tires eventually grows a little unnerving, I will in such cases turn on the radio, cross my fingers, and hope for the best. One magical morning, as I turned the dial of my car stereo, my ears were assaulted by OneRepublic’s “All The Right Moves.”
The chorus of “All The Right Moves” immediately grabbed my attention—in a good way. It is magnificently huge and upbeat, the instrumentation is decidedly rock bandish, and the lyrics are pumped full of well-meaning ambiguities. In short, I found it to be the perfect soundtrack for a day of mundane errand-running.
A week or so later, I accidentally stumbled upon Waking Up while browsing the internet. The cover art intrigued me. I liked the simplicity. I liked the pretty colors. So I bought the album.
And I initially enjoyed what I was hearing. “Made For You” starts things off strong with a piano melody ripe for the arena and a wiry vocal line that could be found on a Lovedrug album. “All The Right Moves” follows, after an odd excursion into studio noise and large choir land (which may or may not have been pulled off successfully, depending on how cynical I am when making the judgment).
“Secrets” lags a little, but “Everybody Loves Me” picks the pace back up with a blues-tinged guitar riff and the perfect mix of irony and sincerity. However, many of the songs on the latter half of the album aren’t quite as radio-ready as “All The Right Moves.” In fact, Waking Up actually moves slower and more deliberately than I had expected. As a result, I became a bit bored.
However, after adjusting my expectations for the album, I approached it again and began to sense more of its excellence. OneRepublic plays safe music that borders on arena rock, takes hints from hip-hop, and glories in its accessibility. If you’re expecting your musical mind to be blown, you will be massively disappointed by Waking Up. But if you are in the mood for easy to digest tunes sprinkled with the occasional moment of excellence, OneRepublic is the band for you.
Throughout Waking Up, Ryan Tedder’s voice occupies center stage. This is a good thing, as Tedder has a great deal of control over his voice, and he varies up his delivery in a variety of ways. He can belt out gospel-sounding licks, croon a quiet lullaby, or hit that elusive note for a hair-raising chorus.
Behind Tedder, the band churns out a steady stream of unimpeachable musicianship. They bounce back and forth from Beck-like guitar riffs to Viva La Vida inspired instrumental postludes. No single element takes too much of the spotlight—the interplay between pianos, organs, guitars, and strings is part of what keeps things interesting.
Lyrically, Waking Up resides in the realm of big, fuzzy pictures with lines like “Say oh, got this feeling that you can't fight/Like this city is on fire tonight/This could really be a good life/A good, good life.” Later in the album, Tedder contemplates the fearlessness of children, promises to return to a lost love, and expresses hope for the future. All good things, certainly, but I would prefer the songwriting to be a little more focused.
Admittedly, the band has demonstrated that they have the ability to write big songs with big hooks. If they were to throw a little more creativity into the songwriting and take a few musical chances, I would call myself a fan. As it is, I count OneRepublic a guilty pleasure and a not altogether unpleasant discovery.
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