If it weren't for the writers' strike of '08, rocky SAG negotiations, and general economic malaise, our household could probably take responsibility for Hollywood's reduced profits this past year. We're movie junkies, and until last spring, you'd find us at the neighborhood multiplex most weekends. We'd even stand in line for opening blockbusters (until we got wise about buying tickets in advance), and when the spirit moved us, we'd brave the traffic for a special showing at the Nuart, the El Capitan, or the Egyptian. We didn't go to hundreds of movies a year—but definitely dozens.
Last year, we saw six. While some parents apparently have no qualms about bundling up their infants and schlepping them to the latest horror flick (gasp!), we have not taken our addiction that far. At this point, a noisy, jerky light show would probably scar baby G for life—not to mention, he hasn't cottoned on to the magic of sitting still and staring at a screen for two hours. We still sneak the occasional Netflix rental (sometimes even managing to see the whole thing in one sitting!), but a trip to the cinema is rare. Thanks to the generosity of babysitting grandparents, however, we do get to the theater every once in a while. Here's a rundown of our ticket stubs from the past year:
- WALL-E. *****
This was a perfect first film for new parents! Pixar's signature storytelling prowess, the eye-popping animation, and the toe-tapping sample from Hello Dolly absolutely delighted us. And Ben Burtt's sound design was truly out of this world. We loved this story about a lonely, trash-compacting robot so much that we've seen it twice on DVD, too. Not only is it a lovely story about robot love, but it's also got some interesting social commentary about consumerism, obesity, and laziness that gives one pause without killing one's joy. The DVD extras—especially the commentary from director Andrew Stanton and Burtt's sound-design interview—are worth checking out! - Tropic Thunder. **
One thing that happens when you haven't been to the movies in a while is that all the previews start to look amazing. We kind of fell into that trap with this uneven comedy directed by Ben Stiller, which follows a war-movie cast that gets dropped into the middle of an actual war zone. Implausibly, the actors spend a great deal of time believing that the whole thing is an elaborate set, before having to best the bad guys for real. Stiller leads a great cast, but some performers are wasted. Robert Downey, Jr.'s performance is pretty amazing (he plays an Australian method actor who undergoes a pigment-changing surgery to play an African-American character in the war film), but Jack Black is underused as a drug-addicted stooge. There are some really great moments—such as the hilarious fake movie previews at the beginning—but the over-the-top violence of the war scenes is too jarring. It's uncomfortable to watch, which was probably the point, but not my cup of tea. - Quantum of Solace. ***
This was sleek, action-packed, forgettable fun. I remember so little of this 007 flick that I can't even report on it properly, which is why it gets a retroactive three stars (although at the time, I may have given it four). Calling a Bond film "plotless" isn't very descriptive, as a plot is rarely required—but this installment directed by Marc Forster is more plotless than usual. It picks up just after Casino Royale, which blew my little mind with its intensity, thrilling base-jumping scenes, and prominent Sony ad placements. Now that was a Bond film. Quantum of Solace is just a series of very cool car chases—but nothing amazing. Except, of course, Daniel Craig, who gives Bond a rugged athleticism that injects new life into the franchise. - My Name Is Bruce. **
We have a working theory that Bruce Campbell movies are much more enjoyable if the B-action star is actually in the room with you. This is the second time we've seen him live at the Nuart (the first was for Bubba Ho-tep, in which he plays an elderly, mummy-slaying Elvis), and his Q&A session was definitely the highlight of both evenings. He's got this uncanny way of combining sarcastic put-downs with genuine fan appreciation. For example, when Rabid Fan Woman in the front row proffered roses and a bottle Jack Daniels, Campbell demurred, saying he doesn't touch "brown liquid," and handed her five dollars for her trouble. Someone else got a fiver for saying that My Name Is Bruce was his favorite Campbell film, proving that some people will say anything for a buck.
Bruce Campbell directed this film about a monster-plagued town that hires (surprise!) B-action star Bruce Campbell to vanquish it. Of course, just like Tropic Thunder, it takes Bruce forever to figure out the monster is real. The monster itself, a Chinese war god that haunts the town cemetery, has some pretty entertaining wrath—but the surrounding lore and the portrayal of the Chinese character (Ted Raimi) who explains it are uncomfortably racist. Campbell does an OK job behind the camera (he admitted he only directs when he has to), but the script is a real drag. There are a couple of decent laughs and Campbell is a good sport about the self-parody as a drunken jerk, but the overall concept doesn't sustain a feature-length film. It's more of a B-movie knock-off than a spoof. Is there such a thing as a C-movie? Apparently so. - Gran Torino. *****
I wasn't sure what to expect from this film, which was teased as old Clint Eastwood taking down gangland USA with a rifle. It looked both cool and ridiculous—like a wild urban romp. But that's not what it was. Against the backdrop of violent racial tensions—underscored by Eastwood's character's seemingly endless supply of racial epithets—is the story of a cantankerous widower and Korean war vet who is out of place in a changing world. That world is his own neighborhood in Detroit, where Eastwood spends his days drinking beer on the porch and cursing the neighbors, most of whom are Hmong refugees. It doesn't help when the kid next door tries to steal his prized Gran Torino as part of a gang initiation. Of course, Eastwood eventually befriends this kid and his sister and finds himself going up against the neighborhood gangsters as advertised. Probably the most chilling performances are from the actors who play Eastwood's sons and grandchildren, whose sense of entitlement and total lack of caring for their aging family member are all too lifelike. After the credits rolled, I felt like Eastwood had told me something true about the world, and I can't stop thinking about the film. I'm not sure why this one didn't get an Oscar, unless the Academy was tired of adding to Eastwood's collection. The song over the credits also made my day, punk. - Duplicity. ****
This heisty rom-com probably deserves only three stars, but I'm feeling generous because it was surprisingly delightful. Sure, it is a little long, a little choppy, and a little convoluted, but Clive Owen is easy on the eyes, and his performance as former-MI-6-agent-gone-corporate-spy is fun and enjoyable. Even Julia Roberts, who usually annoys me, does a decent job as the CIA agent who gets under Owen's skin, and Paul Giamatti and Tom Wilkinson give hilarious performances as warring corporate bigwigs. I'm not going to go into the plot—because it's one of those where the less you know (and the lower your expectations), the more fun you will have—but I'm tickled that writer/director Tony Gilroy also wrote The Cutting Edge, which I have loved shamelessly since I was 13. Before you skating haters write him off for this, however, please note that he also penned the Bourne scripts and wrote and directed Michael Clayton, which was excellent. So there!
No comments:
Post a Comment