The Hurt Locker (2008)

Directed by: Kathryn Bigelow
Written by: Mark Boal
Starring: Jeremy Renner, Anthony Mackie, Brian Geraghty, Guy Pearce, Ralph Fiennes 
Rated: R

I suppose that for the time being director Kathryn Bigelow and writer Mark Boal have created the film about the war in Iraq. Explosive, unsentimental and breathtakingly suspenseful, "The Hurt Locker" at long last proves that girls can direct, war films need no narration, and that their stories are filled with people, not caricatures.

The newness of the Iraq War leaves it something still too slippery yet to grasp. We know what it was that made up the Civil War, the Great War, Vietnam--but for the conflicts whose repercussions are still being felt we have had no real time to pause and reflect, not simply but especially because those pieces are still falling into place. I don't believe that there will ever be a movie made on it in which some hulking monster utters "The horror...the horror", but horrors still abound in their adaptive, technological forms.

An elite bomb-diffusing squad in one of the most violent places on Earth navigates its way through winding streets, hunting down and diffusing IED's which can look like almost anything and be placed almost anywhere. A blistering opening scene graphically details that process, culminating in the death of the squads current sergeant first class. We at home are bombarded with news reports and images of bombs detonated every day that the death toll becomes almost numbing. Bigelow has now thrust it into our faces in all of its harsh reality without the forgivingness of men in clean suits detailing the events with cold, posh accents.

Replacing the fallen soldier is SFC William James (Jeremy Renner) who comes on to train his other two memebers, Sanborn (Anthony Mackie) and Eldridge (Brian Geraghty), with his own personal methods. Without remorse, James' character is what we comfortable, intellectual leftists fear that the lower 10% who make up our armed forces are: he is the adrenaline junkie. James is a man who has too much testosterone and not enough conscience, one who places his personal safety and that of his unit at risk with his reckless, arrogant behavior. Entering danger zones with disregard and air of self-absorbed confidence, he ignores protocol in order to inch himself that much closer to death.

Sanborn and Eldridge must learn to cope with their sergeant's lack of feeling, and in doing so they are transformed. That last line seems rather trite, but there is nothing trite about this film. It is an intensive exploration of the nature of camaraderie which is challenged by the supremely stressful environment that puts these men's lives in daily peril. And all of this is wrapped up in some of the most astonishingly directed sequences of the decade.

I remember the first time watching this movie in the theater and feeling that palpable inhale-exhale of the audience during the bomb diffusing scenes; those are the moments that I go to the movies for. I also remember leaving that cinema with a burning hatred for Renner whom I then felt to be on of the most infuriating actors I had ever watched. For years I have bad-mouthed this film simply because of him, completely disregarding the near-perfect direction of the movie as a whole.

This is now my third viewing, and I finally realize that perhaps I was wrong the whole time. Maybe the film is made that much better because I hate Renner's performance. He isn't a bad actor necessarily, but that perpetually smug look he has on his face compliments the ugly character he plays almost too well. The story eliciting such a strong reaction from me--negative though it may be--might have been just what Bigelow wanted. If that's the case then "The Hurt Locker" is a work of art.

One day I believe something will come along which will supplant it's position as the great Iraq film. After all, many vets can't stand it for its inaccuracies. But until that time it is an intelligent and seemingly honest depiction of what this war may be for us in the future: a battle of brains over brawn. Who can outwit whom first? The undying question.

3.5/4

Chasing Amy (1997)

Directed by: Kevin Smith
Written by: Kevin Smith
Starring: Ben Affleck, Joey Lauren Adams, Jason Lee
Rated: R

Here we are again, back on the Kevin Smith train. Thankfully for us it is no longer idling in the terminal and is finally pushing forward at full speed. I understand that this film was made 15 years ago, but it's all new to me, and I'm slugging my way through his major works. Not necessarily discarding the whole geek chic, stoner, fan boy charm which has made him so popular, Smith has nevertheless decided to make what I would consider a film for adults. Whether or not maturity suits Smith is something left to be discussed, but at any rate it's nice to see him pushing himself.

Continuing on with the same basic structure of "Clerks." and "Mallrats", two buddies, Holden (Ben Affleck) and Banky (Jason Lee), have their friendship put to the test when that great, big, ugly word Love rears its ugly head and threatens to get in their way. The two are comic book artists who have made their fame on a story based on Smith's recurring characters Jay and Silent Bob. At a Comicon convention, Holden meets a fellow artist named Alyssa (Joey Lauren Adams) who seems to have everything Holden is looking for.

Just one problem: Alyssa is a lesbian. At first weirded out and dejected, Holden and Alyssa soon develop a strong friendship with one another. And how could they not? The former is handsome, talented, emotional and just a generally sweet guy. The latter is almost sickly cute, a bit brash, overtly sexual (there is a hilarious homage to "Jaws" in which Alyssa and Banky compare battle wounds they received in bed while performing oral sex on women), and a lovely human being. Holden soon learns, however, that his feelings are too strong to remain in the dreaded friend zone and tries to progress things further.

There were many twists in this movie which I didn't see coming. Looking over my notes on the film I continued to get angry while watching it because I did not agree with the way in which Smith tackled stereotypes of the gay community or cliches on love stories. But the man was two big steps ahead of me the whole time and I ate my words more than once. It seems inevitable that Alyssa and Holden will have to be together, and although Smith tackles the problem of being gay as a choice, we still have to wonder whether it was in poor form to revert the story back to the traditional man-woman formula.

But never fear! Smith's (again) recurring character that Lee plays--the almost offensively rude, humorous, yet surprisingly deep sidekick--comes to the rescue, providing us with information that thickens the plot and propells the story to a cringe-worthy and laugh out loud funny climax...pun absolutely intended.

Dramatically and tonally this movie walks a straight line about as easily as I do after a bottle and half of wine. There are moments of Smith's classic tongue and cheek as well as his verbose and immediately recognizable ear for dialogue, which will certainly appeal to die-hard fans. On the other hand, he has also tackled some prickly themes and there are moments when the gimmicks are stipped away leaving only raw drama left on screen. Both aspects are good, just a little wobbly when placed together.

I hope that Smith continues to refine his craft in the future (again, speaking as someone travelling along with him in a linear and ignorant fashion), because I know that there is more in him than simply comic books and his repetetive characters with their basic, repetetive problems. Keep that train a puffin', Mr. Director, you're on the right track.

2.5/4

Primer (2004)

Director: Shane Carruth
Writer: Shane Carruth
Starring: Shane Carruth, David Sullivan, Casey Gooden, Anand Upadhyaya
Rated: PG-13

There is a buddy of mine who does not particularly like what I would consider to be "good drama", nor does he really care about the intricacies that are involved in making such a film. For him, a good movie makes him laugh with all of the inane, idiotic, pathetic attempts at humor which make me cringe. There is one thing that I will give him credit for, however, and that is that he is a stickler for the fairness that comes along with science fiction. By this I mean that a sci-fi film can be as outlandish and absurd as it wants to be, reaching far beyond what we know to be real and true, so long as the script follows its own rules. In this sense he is sort of my go-to guy on time travel films, as he doesn't care whether or not they are "good drama", but lasers in on whether these films have stayed true to themselves.

Writer-director-producer-star Shane Carruth has made a movie which I believe would pass his stringent guidelines, and one that I know has passed mine. On an unthinkably small budget of $7,000 and filmed mainly in a garage and a storage unit, Carruth has produced an intense and smart film about four friends who stumble into making a machine which can transport them through time.

Aaron (Carruth), Abe (David Sullivan) and their two friends spend nights and weekends in Aaron's garage, in their suits perfecting their error-checking devices. They are the sort of men that our generation is spitting out by the thousands in top universities--smart, but not ultra-smart. Tenacious, but indistinguishable fish in an ocean. Modifying what I will hereon refer to as "the box", Aaron and Abe, sensing the lack of vision of their associates, produce a machine which they soon learn to be something too big and powerful to be marketed. It is something too new for them to understand.

Impenetrable jargon for much of this tiny movie keeps the audience stumbling along, as lost as Aaron and Abe as they try to make sense of their discovery. Soon they grasp that the box can transport matter through time: a Weeble entering the device at point A will make its journey and return at point A at a specific time. But the Weeble is inanimate and does not realize that it can exit at point B. If a cognizant creature were to do that, he could enter at A, exit at B and leave a duplicant behind at A. I haven't the slightest idea if I have the pseudo-science right, but Carruth explains it with such conviction that I couldn't help but agree.

Following the paths that many of us would take in such a situation the two men, keeping their secret from their mates, start playing with stocks, discovering that in spite of the physical repercussions of tampering with a volatile and mysterious piece of machinery they can control their own destiny. Dinner parties are reproduced time and again to achieve perfection; stocks and professional athletics are bet on to earn tremendous wealth. At first they are careful, taking all precautions to ensure they are playing it safe, but as time passes of course they become careless.

The film evolves into a thriller which I grasped at, but ultimately lost. I'm not a dumb guy, I know when an ending is opaque, and this one was a brick wall. It is a short movie and one which moves quickly. What's more, it doesn't give a fig if it leaves the audience behind. In a way I felt that Carruth was very much like his characters: poor and full of gumption. He seems like a pit bull who has been let off his leash to chase a cat. Foaming at the mouth, all he knows is he needs to run, run, run. I am very out of shape it seems.

Where the plot takes us isn't exactly new territory, but those many first moments in which the science is gone through--not in a condescending way, but in a necessary and fully justifiable one--were very fresh and commendable. Frankly, I didn't really care what happened to Aaron and Abe, their friendship or their duplicates; all I cared about was the believable way in which a few entrepreneurs handled the uncharted territory of new science. I've recommended the film to my buddy, we'll have to wait and see if it's fair in the end.

3/4

This Must Be the Place (2011)

Directer: Paolo Sorrentino
Writer: Paolo Sorrentino
Starring: Sean Penn, Frances McDormand, Judd Hirsch 
Rated: R

This film is a giant pistachio. But more on that later.

A very talented chameleon, Sean Penn has taken on a role big enough to support his gifts, but one that unfortunately is stationed squared in the middle of Poserville. I have been eyeing this movie for years but have never gotten around to seeing it, and now that I have I wish I had been satisfied merely with the trailer and film poster. Those two things give you all you want to see while leaving out the extra hour of nonsense in between.

Penn plays Cheyenne, a now retired rock star with the look of Robert Smith and the voice of a soft spoken Truman Capote. Having left Over the Hill years ago, Cheyenne now spends his time in his giant manor in Dublin playing handball with his firefighter wife (Frances McDormand), or outside of it shopping at malls, buying frozen dinners at the supermarket, or working at fixing dates with a handsome waiter and the troubled teen he has taken under his wing. He no longer plays music, but he hasn't grown up.

His finds purpose, however, when his estranged Hasidic Jewish father dies, and Cheyenne learns how ruthlessly the man was treated in Auschwitz during the Second World War. Taking up one man's quest, Cheyenne travels the country hunting down the Nazi who humiliated the man that never loved him. Once more we must suffer the ever-enduring message that the road is transformative, as our fragile little rock star faces his fears travelling via planes and cars to reach that final sense of closure.

The first thirty minutes or so are interesting enough, as we are introduced to a peculiarly childlike man wearing lipstick who has his nails painted while sitting in some crummy diner. Any average person walks down the street and their heads turn at seeing a man in makeup, or I suppose anyone who dresses "goth". I should know, I've caught the attention of many a passersby for years doing the exact same thing. Italian writer-director Paolo Sorrentino relies too heavily on that shock factor though, expecting the audience to remain perplexed  at the sight of a 50-year-old man wearing a black, furry hoodie contrasted against a clean, pretty background, hoping it will last long enough to squeeze out chuckles for nearly two hours.

The entire movie seems to be that way. There are plenty of road trip films that are endearing simply because they are so quirky--"Little Miss Sunshine", "Y tu mama tambien", even "Rain Man"--but the power behind those successes fell on the principal that their peculiarities seemed organic. "This Must Be the Place" is quite the opposite. The whole thing seems so much a mash-up of any and everything that Sorrentino finds weird or cool that one forgets to care about Cheyenne's quest to posthumously repair his broken relationship with his father.

Everything is fragmentary and episodic, full of characters who are far less interesting than Sorrentino believes them to be, and events which are at the very least confusing. I found myself more than once scratching my head trying to figure out what was going and how it justified its gross running time. What on earth does a bison on a porch, the man who invented luggage with wheels, or a massive beer bottle being erected on the side of a highway have to do with an effeminate musician hunting down a Nazi? When I put it as concisely as that the film becomes even that much more frustrating.

So, back to that first enigmatic statement. The film has a scene in which Cheyenne pauses his journey to examine a piece of public art--the world's largest pistachio. I watched that scene and saw the whole film; a statue like that is bizarre at first glance, bemusing at a second glance, and angering at a third. Perhaps if Sorrentino spent the time trying to establish why we should care about Cheyenne and his quest as opposed to simply relying on cheap gimmicks he would have had a piece of public art worth displaying in a museum as opposed to the side of the road in Bumblescum, Nowhere.

1.5/4

Mud (2012)

Matthew McConaughey is right now in the process of performing one of the toughest challenges any perfectly sculpted actor can attempt: The George Clooney. By this I mean the Sisyphean trial of climbing the immense hill towards being a respectable and respected actor, only to be brought down time and again by easy charm and chiseled abs. But like Clooney, Charlize Theron and Ben Affleck before him, McConaughey is very near to achieving victory. With "The Lincoln Lawyer" and "Bernie" under his belt, "Mud" has now all but leveled out that rom-com pit of shame.

Set in a junkyard wasteland along the rivers of Arkansas, 14-year-old Ellis (Tye Sheridan) and his foul-mouthed friend Neckbone (Jacob Lofland) live in the homemade houseboats and ramshackle trailers in one of those ignored parts of USA. The two find a boat which has been left suspended in a tree on a deserted island after a flash flood. Plotting to make it their own, they stumble upon a murderer known to us only as Mud, who in turn forms a dangerous pact with the boys.

Ellis is our protagonist and he is what we would call a "very good boy". Among his virtues he is trusting, loyal and is a hopeless romantic. Throughout the course of the film we see him unwittingly corrupted, turned into a liar and a thief as the shady Mud--knowingly or unknowingly, you decide--taps into Ellis' undying hope in true and lasting love. Mud asks that Ellis help him get in touch with his once girlfriend, Juniper (Reese Witherspoon), and as the clock ticks away and the police tighten their grip on the town looking for Mud, Ellis and Neckbone must help him get the treeboat back in working order and repair his broken relationship.

Who is this Mud, and do we love him or hate him? His crooked teeth, the nails in his boots and the snake tattoo running down his arm would suggest a villain, but when hiding in a boat in a tree, gulping down cans of Beanie Wienies, it's rather hard to take him seriously. The story is very much about the tug and pull of wanting to like a flawed man, but contending this with the duplicitous characters who speak ill of him. Who can we trust when we can't believe any of them? Mud is a complex character and his surface is barely scratched by the script, but McConaughey gives him a richness that can't be ignored.

This winding piece of dark Americana possibly suffers from too many subplots (a "Chinatown" inspired one involving bounty hunters is formless and almost silly), but it is bolstered by a slew of wonderful performances, especially those from the young actors and McConaughey. This is certainly the latter's film, and I wouldn't be surprised if it gets him on an early shortlist of Oscar contenders, but Sheridan and Lofland's acting turns deserve no small amount of praise.

The two of them give understated and believable performances--Witherspoon overacts them right off the screen--with Sheridan giving a beautifully simple presentation of the naive and honor bound Ellis. For me, however, Lofland stole the whole film. This first time actor is obviously whip-smart and has a terrific sense of comedic timing. It was very clear that the boys had excellent chemistry, and Sheridan's best work came when playing opposite Lofland. In acting it is never about how good you can make yourself look, but about how you can better your fellow actors' performances, and I think that speaks volumes about this very promising young talent.

It is no masterpiece, but "Mud" is acted with confidence and is tautly directed. What was nicest about the whole thing was seeing a team of people trying very hard to complete a unique vision. There are several names attached to this project whose future work I will be waiting for with anticipation.

3/4

A Cat in Paris (2010)

The French have been developing a reputation for creating avant-garde animated films directed more towards an adult audience. Following 2007's critical hit "Persepolis", Jean-Loup Felicioli and Alain Gagnol's
"Une vie de chat" have tried to continue that trend of experimental cartoon with mature themes. In this case, unfortunately, they probably bit off more than they could chew.

A slinky, jazzy thriller, it is a story of a girl and her cat. Having lost her police officer father to a notorious art thief, mute little Zoe (Oriane Zani) finds solace only in her cat, Dino. Skulking about the narrow alleys of greater Paris, Dino brings gifts of dead lizards and birds and the occasional priceless piece of jewelry. Zoe's mother Jeanne (Dominique Blanc) does not find the same amusement in Dino's presents, nor in her girl's eccentricities, having dedicated herself to her job in the police department and her mission to bring in her husband's killer.

Zoe learns that Dino leads a double life, spending his nights prowling about with a cat burglar named Nico (Bruno Salamone). Disobeying her nanny and sneaking out, Zoe soon finds herself in a dangerous adventure full of gangsters and stealthy criminals.

The fundamental flaw of the film is not in its story. In fact I really enjoyed the concept, but on the whole it was entirely underdeveloped and left a lot to be desired. One cannot watch this movie without the overwhelming sense that the true creative powers of the story were being stifled in an attempt to please both younger and older audiences alike. The film is risky, it has danger and death and deals with the very dark nature of grief. In order to make it accessible to children a great big mute button was pushed on the parts of the narrative that were the most interesting.

Further, a great many holes were left unanswered. This is one of those mob films were a fellow criminal must use his own insight into dirty dealings to best the real bad guys. Such is Nico, who seems to be a slippery jewel thief simply to have the skills necessary to save Zoe and bring the antagonists to justice. We are never informed why Nico steals; his apartment is small and unimpressive, even though Nico and Dino have probably stolen millions of euros worth of valuables. And at the end of the movie when Nico naturally saves the day he is exonerated. Why? No reason--he's just sexy.

A very short film with a lot of setup should then at least be compensated with a daring artistic style. That too was lacking. I will say that their storyboard artist is very clever and a couple of scenes (one in particular, drawn to look as though we are peering through night vision goggles) were very inventive. But on the whole the film looked like an hour-long Sesame Street skit.

There is a way to make new and innovative animated features which don't need to be dumbed down for the sake of the audience. Look at "The Illusionist", for instance. The gooey center of the film is great, but it was afraid to be something really special. It obviously wanted to be a PG-13 or R rated movie, so let it. Pandering to a vast audience is okay when it starts out being for kids and is later elevated, but starting out with a mature concept and then watering it down never pans out.

2/4

The French Connection (1971)

Look at the list of accolades doted upon William Friedkin's "The French Connection", then watch the film. You do this and then tell me something didn't go amiss. Don't get me wrong, it is a fine film and a very fine one as far as gangster thrillers go, but one of the best American films ever made? That might be a bit generous.

 A throwback to the private eye films of the 1930's and 40's, the story follows two New York vice detectives as they stumble into a major exchange with local drug lords and a suave French tycoon. Facing adversity from a workforce that doesn't take them seriously, Jimmy "Popeye" Doyle (Gene Hackman) and Buddy Russo (Roy Schneider) spend months climbing the intel ladder to track down the head honchos. It's a game of who knows what, who knows who, and who knows if who knows what. A labyrinth of names and places, the audience is left largely in the dark, only really grasping that two antiheroes should end up at a showdown with a genteel Frenchman.

I watched this movie and was perplexed as to how it garnered four of the five major Oscars, especially when it competed with films like "A Clockwork Orange" and "Fiddler on the Roof". To be fair, praise must be given where praise is due. Fighting against cliches as much as possible, Friedkin's film does not boast two lead characters who are the best at what they do, solving an uncrackable case. They are flawed and mediocre cops, particularly Popeye, whose recklessness has cost the force as a whole in the past. An angry, violent, lonely and not particularly skilled detective, Popeye must deal with his own shortcomings while trying to wrestle with the magnitude of what he might have stumbled across.

But after that there isn't much to be dished out. The characters, although unconventional, are not that complex; although they are performed well by Hackman and Schneider they aren't much of a stretch. They writing is nothing revelatory, nor is the story itself. It is a solidly made cops and robbers movie. In short, the foundation is sound, if not perfect.

Friedkin doesn't completely squander his ample talents, however. The film's claim to fame is in the perfectly choreographed sequences of the detectives tailing cars or people. Minutes upon minutes fly by as we watch them stake out locations, observe an abandoned vehicle or weave through city streets, deftly employing fictitious personas or stories to keep track of suspected criminals. One scene involving a chase on the subway has been ripped off by countless films since.

The whole thing culminates in an absolutely perfect chase scene in which Popeye recklessly drives a commandeered car through the busy streets of NYC, trying to beat a train to its next stop. I have no idea how long something like that wold have taken to plan, but its lack of generated effects and the hugeness of the whole scene is a wonder in itself. That right there shows Friedkin for the genius he is and the kind of effort he puts into work that is certainly inferior to his talents.

Like I said, the film is fine, it's just not great. It has moments of greatness, but that doesn't make a great film. As it carried on I vaguely felt that it seemed like an elevated version of poorer Hitchcock. Even the master of suspense chose bad material every once in a while, so I guess if I can equate one to the other Friedkin didn't do such a bad job in the end.

3/4

Mallrats (1995)

I think writer-director Kevin Smith inadvertently tapped into something big when he made "Clerks.", and that was presenting Generation-X to audiences before they even knew what Generation-X was. Teenagers no longer live to work, eeking out their living to support themselves and their family, they work to live--and barely do that. I work in downtown Seattle, and everyday there is a group of about two dozen twenty-somethings who do nothing but stand around, bum cigarettes and money off strangers, and occasionally ride their skateboards which are more for appearances than anything else. They don't work, have probably never had a single original thought in their lives and are generally just a public nuisance. And the thing of it is is that they have no reason to be anything else. The top 5% of the population are smart enough and industrious enough to have built a nation which allows our youth the freedom to explore their passions, even if those passions are simply smoking and skating. That is Generation-X, and damn Smith if he didn't see it coming before the rest of us.

"Mallrats" is a less a of a sequel and more of a sister piece to "Clerks." which follows TS and Brodie, two best buds who have just been dumped, as they try to console themselves and win back their girls by loitering in a mall all day. Shenanigans and general idiocy ensue, and there are happy endings all around (in probably more ways than one). The film is dumb, it's pointless, it's sometimes absurd, and a few times it's genius. That just seems to be how Smith works, and I approve.

I couldn't possibly say this with certainty, but I don't think he actually wanted to make this film. The script's formula is almost exactly that of "Clerks.": 1. Two dudes have relationship issues. One is the simple, good guy whose fortunes are turned on him by external forces, and the other is an affable sack of shit who seems to know everything while at the same time being a complete idiot. 2. Their day is focused on one random location that could enter any young man's life on a routine basis, i.e. a convenience store or a mall. 3. Episodes featuring an eccentric array of supporting, orbital characters like Jay and Silent Bob affect the guys' chances of reclaiming their girls. 4. A ridiculous climax fits all the pieces together oh so nicely.

So why would Smith want to make the same film twice? I don't think he did. The amped up ludicrousness of it all makes it seem too much like self-parody for me not to question his motives. Even though his choice of actors is questionable as are his directorial techniques, one thing I can't short-change him on is the amount of ideas floating around in his head. If anything he too many of them and has a terrible editing eye, which leads me to believe he was pressured into revisiting an idea he had already executed so well.

It is for this reason that I don't appreciate this film. What I have not lost my respect for, however, is really giving a solid picture of today's youth. I watched TS and Brodie and all the gang in that mall, not shopping, not doing anything, just hanging around and causing problems for others, and I saw my teenage years. I saw those hoodlums across the street. I listened to their conversation about the possibility of Superman's sun-powered sperm destroying Lois Lane's reproductive organs, and I heard all of the asininely insightful conversations I've ever had with my mallrat friends, and that made me smile.

I haven't seen Smith's other films, but I plan to; he's caught my attention. Although I hope the story is more original than this last picture, I also hope he doesn't lose his genuine spirit.

2/4

ParaNorman (2012)

Chris Butler, whose previous jobs have included work on "Coraline" and "The Corpse Bride", has finally taken the helm as writer-director of "ParaNorman", a dead-on animation flick about a lonely outcast who must save his town of idiots from ye olden curse set upon them by a colonial witch. Funny, smart and ghoulishly creepy, Butler knows how to deliver to kids while at the same time keeping parents entertained as well.

Norman seems like every other 11-year-old boy. He's probably mildly good at athletics, average intelligence, has a big heart and a lot of courage. Norman's dad is a hard ass, his mom is a limp-wristed leftist (so says dad) and his teenage sister is pretty, popular and self-obsessed. A good ol' all-American family. Oh, I forgot grandma. Grandma is dead, but that doesn't stop Norman from talking to her. In fact, it doesn't stop him from talking to centuries worth of ghosts who float about his town. This might be an okay gift/curse were Norman not dumb enough to tell everyone in his town that he talks to dead people. Maybe that's why nobody likes him...

Norman will soon find himself an unlikely hero, however, when his small town's claim to fame, a witch sentenced to death at the hands of seven town elders hundreds of years ago, returns from the dead and awakens zombies to wreak havoc. It will be up to Norman and his incredible power--along with some help from his sister, his new best friend Neil, and Neil's hunky older brother--to stop the curse, the zombies, and the witch all before bedtime. No small feat, right?

It's obvious that Butler was very much inspired by Tim Burton and Henry Selick while working on his last projects. "ParaNorman" is a beautifully rendered stop-motion animated film which has taken the craft to a whole new level. I don't appreciate many things in cinema more than I do stop-motion. After all, working meticulously one can capture about 19 seconds of film a day. But when the result is so good you can't really argue with long productions. Butler has taken things a step further, not only using the painstaking puppetry, but combining it with dazzling CGI. It's all a bit more high-tech than Burton's literal smoke and mirrors in "The Nightmare Before Christmas".

I liked this film very much. It certainly was not as inventive as "Nightmare" or as dark and rich as "Coraline", but Butler has definitely given himself a good foothold in this area of work. The spectacle of it all will keep everyone in the crowd entertained even as the story drags a bit, and some of the gag bits are very good leading up to breathtaking and very emotional climax.

What was most endearing about the whole project was the way in which Butler didn't sacrifice his vision for the sake of a quick buck. Sure, the film might be a bit scary for the youngest of the young, and sure, some of the jokes might be a bit risque, but that just means that there's something for everyone. There are far too many kid's movies out there who pander to their young audience with gross-out gags and fart jokes (come to think of it there are far too many adult movies like that too) that never stop and think that mom and dad might not like to have $10 of their own money wasted in the theatre. Butler thinks of them too, and I respect that.

I didn't laugh out loud all that much, but I must say the movie held a very amused smile on my face for most of it. I liked all of the horror film references and the plentiful amount of clever jokes. And when those weren't there I could still just sit back and enjoy Butler's gorgeously painted labors reaping rewards.

3/4

Jarhead (2005)

A relatively new conflict, the Gulf War has only recently begun to be looked studied. So in 2003 when Anthony Swofford released his autobiographical book Jarhead it became an immediate world-wide sensation. Recounting his time as a member of STA (pronounced stay), Swofford gave a largely ignorant audience an angry, sexual, apathetic view of a largely irrelevant war. What makes his book so fascinating (I am in the process of reading it, and it is terrific) is that it is not some left-wing civilian blowing smoke and teasing us with statistics, but is a defamatory account from a man who dreamed of being a marine from a very young age who had his heart broken.

It is no surprise then that the opportunity to adapt the book for the screen was jumped at. Playing Swofford is Jake Gyllenhaal, acted the same year as "Brokeback Mountain", the year that made him a household name. Swofford is a part of an elite fighting force of snipers and scouts, highly trained and highly deadly. But this is no film about great battles and blood and explosions; it is rather a grim portrait of the endless drudgery and boredom that faces a jarhead, or anyone serving in the armed forces I suspect, and the humorous, idiotic, dangerous ways that these men keep themselves entertained.

Swofford's story is remarkable, but largely only because it is so novel to me as Joe Schmoe. His anecdotes of burning tubs of human feces, homoerotic games like "field-fuck", cock fights where deadly scorpions are substituted for roosters are probably all rather routine for the normal grunt. To me, however, it is a whole new world. Pervading their jokes and brawls and false machismo there is a deep, engulfing sadness that runs concurrent to the episodic nature of the story. For every drunken party there is a wife at home screwing the neighbor; for every baby born a man is becoming a hollow, nervous shell of his former self.

As a story the film is great. As a movie the film is not. I think most of this can be attributed to Gyllenhaal. Well, maybe that's a bit unforgiving. It can be attributed to the casting director, rather. Gyllenhaal is a fine actor and some of the work he produces, here and elsewhere, is very beautiful. From Swofford's book, though, I got the distinct sense that Swofford is both an aggressive man and highly intelligent, which makes him especially dangerous. He reads Albert Camus, he comes close to killing his platoon mate. Gyllenhaal's baby face isn't the least bit frightening, nor does he seem particularly smart. In the end, although his performance was good, it felt watered down from what it could have been.

Sure, an argument can be made that director Sam Mendes was trying to present the life of an ordinary grunt, but STA members are not ordinary. They are extraordinary, and that requires an extraordinary leading man acting an extraordinary character, of which we had neither. The backbone of the movie is Jamie Foxx as Staff Sgt. Sykes and Peter Sarsgaard who gives a bravura performance as Alan Troy, a politically aware, humane drug-dealer who helped lead Swofford. They are extraordinary characters yet they remained supporting roles.

It is a crisp, clear, stark film with some tightly directed scenes and some good FX. The climax is particularly impactful. Swofford's one perfect shot going up in the flames of millions of taxpayers' dollars is a great irony. If the whole film could have been as strong or edgy as that scene or a handful of standout others then the movie could have been the "The Hurt Locker" before Kathryn Bigelow was even a thing.

2.5/4

Apocalypse Now (1979)

There are many great films in the world--not enough, but many. They are captivating and complex and well-made. They are the reason that I go to the movies, hoping that I will stumble across some hidden gem waiting to present the world to me in a new light. But of all of these great movies there are a select precious few--it would take me some moments  to even compose a list--which reach that highest level of filmmaking, and then transcend it, broadening the way in which we view the cinema as an area of artistry and storytelling. These are the dearest and greatest of all films, and in my opinion Francis Ford Coppola's "Apocalypse Now" is one of them.

The Vietnam War is to Americans what WWII is to the British or the French, an anathema that has transfixed us in its inability to be understood by those who weren't there. Consequently, movie after movie has been made on it, trying in some way to make sense of it all and impart to ignorant audiences why it was such a life-altering phenomenon. In the minds of these men the jungle was a personal and collective hell, reshaping the way they saw their fellow man as well as themselves. Adapted from Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness, Coppola presents us with his own journey into the blackest pits of men's souls.

Martin Sheen stars Capt. Benjamin Willard, a dislocated man in Saigon, stuck in the limbo of his first and second tour. Called before his colonel, he is told of the brilliant, enigmatic Col. Kurtz, a green beret who has gone AWOL and completely insane, setting himself as a god in the eyes of a small tribe in the jungle. His practices being "unsound" by any humane standards, Willard is instructed to terminate Kurtz "with extreme prejudice." Commanding a small boat with four other soldiers, Willard begins his plunge in the forest and his own heart of darkness, an ultimately existential journey where we learn the breaking point of a man.

A cacophony of light, sound, and powerful imagery accentuate Coppola's sprawling, grand, and terribly brilliant epic. The director's cut clocks in at just shy of three and half hours, neatly divided into three acts, giving time to unfold in its enormous, almost hallucinatory manner. Here is ultra-realism told in a lyrical way, combining great artistry and great horror into one of the best war pictures ever made.

Beginning the film one cannot imagine the path that it will finally take. It opens with Willard in his hotel room, drunk or high in his underwear, doing a chaotic dance, sobbing and eventually breaking his mirror with his fist--all of which was unscripted. It sets the tone of a film about shattered men, but we've seen this before, particularly in "The Deer Hunter". We cannot, however, foresee to what great depths we will be brought. This is especially true when Willard sets down in the jungle, meeting Lt Col. Kilgore (played perfectly by Robert Duvall), a loud, brash and untouchable man with an affinity for surfing. Amidst one of the most incredible battle scenes I've ever watched, Duvall keeps the spirit of the film high, even jocular, even though the carnage is great. The film still carries the smell of a novel by this point.

But by the second act our small group of five is on their own, the story grows darker, and a deeply personal exploration of loss and devolution begins. What struck me possibly more than anything else is the fascinating way in which this mammoth movie is both epic in its sheer size and spectacle, but also supremely intimate. Beyond the sets and explosions and impossibly large themes we never once lose sight of the characters, or the intent that all of these scenes we witness are there to shape these men. Coppola never forgets his goal of making an introspective film, and never does he leave them behind for the sake of shooting terrific battles. In the end an army is made up of human beings, and that's the point.

As we travel down the river with Willard and the boys, the film becomes tighter, more claustrophobic until that point in which we meet Kurtz. The script sets high standards, praising him in a way that surely no man meet, and an actor was needed who shared that same sort of mystery and brilliance. Marlon Brando, though in the film for probably no more than fifteen minutes total, proves once again he is the great wonder of the cinema, engulfing his scenes with controlled, incendiary power. The final scene of the film left my nerves scattered.

There are a lot of stories which have circulated about the making of "Apocalypse Now" and I am inclined to believe most of them. Filming was reportedly supposed to take five months, and ended up taking sixteen. By the end of it all Coppola threatened to commit suicide. What I am most compelled to accept that there was a lot of drugs on set, and this amazing cast, also featuring Lawrence Fishburne and Dennis Hopper, went slightly crazy in the making of the movie. It would be hard not to, stuck in the heat of the jungles of the Philippines with all the perks of being actors. Many of them, namely Brando, were already crazy to begin with, and I have no doubt that some of them were pushed over the edge, fueled by the content of the story.

Coppola shot well over two hundred hours of footage, and parried down has one of the most sweeping, emotionally powerful results it has ever been my great pleasure to watch. The word "masterpiece" gets touted around far too often (I myself throw it about far more than I should), but if this isn't a masterpiece then we need to have a rethinking of what that word actually means.

4/4

Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy (2004)

Set against the male-dominant backdrop of 1970's newsrooms, the news anchor god Ron Burgundy reigns supreme. This ultra-macho, scotch-drinking chauvinist with a Ron Jeremy mustache holds Los Angeles by the scrotum, giving them the news they are too lazy to get anywhere else. The only word I can think of which best describes him is dunderhead. Supported by his team of dunderhead colleagues, Ron Burgundy sits in the #1 spot in the ratings.

His world falls apart when that ugly word "diversity" rears its ugly head and a blonde, bodacious, female reporter is added to the team. What the hell are boobs doing in the newsroom?! I know. I get it. But there you have it. Ron must battle to keep his place as lead anchor when faced with the might of newcomer Veronica Corningstone, while at the same time keeping his libido in check.

Will Ferrell gives a typical, Will Ferrelly  performance as the clueless egotist, and he is backed seemingly by every comedian that has ever made a bro-movie: Paul Rudd, Steve Carell, Seth Rogen, Ben Stiller, Jack Black, all of whom I found troublingly unfunny. The best of the bunch was Christina Applegate as Veronica, and the shame of it all is that I think she was meant to be the laughless one of the bunch.

Here's the deal. Ferrell and Adam McKay's script is filled full of silly one-liners, most of which are great, some of which are brilliant. But they are incredibly over the top, occasionally so ridiculous you have to throw your hands up, roll your eyes and say "What the hell am I watching?" That's all well and good. And least this movie, unlike so many other comedies at the moment, has a structure actually worth an hour and a half of your time.

Where the whole thing goes south is in the performances which try to outdo the dialogue, and in doing so create something that discards any shred of believability. Either have big performances saying wry, subtle lines, or have your characters deliver outrageous dialogue as deadpan as possible. The juxtaposition is where the humor is. The good comedian is the one who knows how to spot the abnormal in the ordinary, not the one who minces about in front of an audience, yelling and waving his junk in the air.

The funniest bits of the entire film were the opening sequence which was obviously entirely improvised by Ferrell, and the bloopers at the end. When the outtakes tickle me more than the final cut there has to be a problem somewhere. One of the more notable scenes is a giant battle between all the rivaling news stations, each equipped with maces, tridents, horses, giant clubs and a whole slew of other medieval weaponry, which they use to beat each other into submission. At the end of it Ron remarks "Boy, that escalated quickly...I mean that really got out of hand fast." I think that quote pretty much sums up the whole damn thing.

Sometimes I think my pedestal has been built too high and that I have a case of being a cynical asshole. But then I think that 99.999 % of what we watch isn't much better than a 90 minute Punch and Judy sketch, and then I feel better. Mediocre people get to make mediocre movies all the time, and on rare occasion I just need to grit my teeth and force a smile.

2/4