The
Adventures Of Rocky And Bullwinkle
Forget What
Women Want, I certainly have. The burning question - at least around Hollywood
- is what do children want? Surely they seem to lap up everything you throw
at them, not do not appear to be altogether that descerning as customers
go. But what are they really going to like, what is going to be good for
them. What is going to mint it in vis a vis merchandising? For every Toy
Story there is a Mulan, and for every Flintstones there is a Rocky and
Bullwinkle. And you know what - that’s not necessarily a good thing.
You can’t
just throw stuff at the screen and hope it will stick. This film takes
the initial lovable and really rather pathetic kids TV show and blows it
up into a big budget spectacle which has as little in the way of plot as
the original five minute episodes had. But Jay Roach - creator of Rocky
& Bullwinkle - would never have made an hour and a half cartoon. Attention
spans are too short for poor animation, poor jokes and self referential
humour. Here the poor animation is replaced by poor acting and some CGI
wizardry, but the lack of plot remains, so we have the some unconnected
3D animation of poorly drawn 2D characters making poor jokes.
The animation
is good. Its no better than the cell animation used in Who Framed Roger
Rabbit (referenced of course in the film) but it works. It is about the
only thing in the film which does. The narrator - a feature of the original
show - spends the first twenty minutes on tedious plot exposition which
gets to set up even more tedious road movie antics. In the centre of this
is the winsome Piper Perabo (Coyote Ugly) as the not uncharacteristic of
the film FBI Agent Karen Sympathy. She is the human member of the gang,
and simpers, looks pretty but never elicits much of a laugh. The same unfortunately
is true of the moose and squirrel - as smoothly and hence lifelessly they
are integrated into the live action stuff. At least they are not embarrassing
themselves as much as Rene Russo, Jason Alexander and Robert De Niro. As
live action counterparts of the cartoon villains they approximate a look,
and seem to be having some ghoulish kind of perversity in creating something
not palatable to man or child.
The project
was a bad idea from the very outset. That said the execution certainly
does not help. The original was cheap and cheerful, this looks expensive
and dour. The script both parodies, and tries to replicate the vim, vigour
and poor jokes of the original. Self referential comedy is hard enough
to do - without peppering the script with scattershot gags which go over
the head of the majority of the audience - child or adult. So it is replaced
by frantic charging around, and pointless mugging at the camera (you would
think Robert De Niro had never been in a film before).
As I said
the world has not been clamouring for a Rocky & Bullwinkle movie. Now
its got one, it is relatively unclear what we are supposed to do with it.
I would advise not to watch it until it comes on TV in five years time
and you have a very slow Sunday afternoon. I know I am not the target audience
for this but I was in the cinema with it - and they were frankly bored
after about an hour. Except the one who knew the Bob De Niro speech out
of Taxi Driver - he was enthralled. Pap. (3 - for winsome Piper Perabo
who reminded me of a good friend of mine).
IF THIS
FILM WAS A CAR CRASH: Dudley Do-Right The Movie hits Roger Rabbit. Messy
and dull.
After
Life
I hate (how
many of these reviews start this way?) movies about heaven. There are some
real dogs out there: A Matter Of Life And Death, What Dreams May
Come - and of course the doggiest of them all - All Dogs Go To Heaven.
I am not a religious man, yet these pat recreations of Judeo-Christian
myths just seem flat and uninspiring. These are not places I want to spend
my eternity with, especially not with Robin Williams gibbering at
my side
like an old Lennie Bruce album being mixed by a cracked up chimp. Personal
views of heaven I may not have, but I am well aware of my own idea of a
personal hell
Actually,
that is what After Life is about. Personal heavens. The concept is a beautiful
one. When you die, you get to choose one memory which you relive for eternity.
Your purest moment of crystalline happiness. The moment that defined you.
But as this may be a bit of a difficult decision, picking that moment from
a long life, you get a few days mooching around what appears to be a downtown
comprehensive school, being counselled by a few well meaning do-gooders.
When your moment is identified, off to the studio's you go to film these
moments. Then off to the
screening
and eternity.
There are
three things going on in After Life, all of them very interesting. There
is initially the question: what memory do you take with you? Second: what
if you cannot decide, or you do not think such a moment exists for you?
And finally, there is a brief meditation on memory itself - and the comparison
of memory with film as permanence over that which is more sensory, more
transitory. That last theme is interesting for a student of film, and provides
the film with a nice bit of genuinely resonant self reference. It is however
the first two points that make After Life
so good.
The film
seems unstructured from the start, a slow trawl through a few peoples memories
as their counsellors coax recollections from them. Indeed, most of the
"dead" are real people, with real memories - which are nicely for them
recreated near the end. However, slowly a plot of sorts coalesces, we find
out that those who cannot decide end up as the staff of this halfway house.
Which leads us to the question, how could they not decide. We are shown
three good examples, teased out throughout the film. One who could not
find his moment of happiness, a young - recently dead kid who does not
pick because he can't - but because he won't in a sense of responsibility
not to reduce his
short life
to one banal moment - and a girl who we know had a troubled childhood but
more is not revealed. Indeed the beauty of After Life is that it does not
appear to give us too much in the way of plot hints, yet it all unravels
to its simple, yet powerful ending.
Philosophically,
After Life is no slouch either. It recognises all the good and bad points
of its initial premise, and shows its characters also considering
this. We have the teenager who picks the memory of Disneyland because she
had been led to believe in life that this would be the pinnacle of her
fun experience. After reflection, she reconsiders, after being told thirty
two others in the past year have had the same "personal moment". The man
who brags about sex, finally picking his daughters wedding - ashamed to
appear soft. Most interesting is the seventy year old man who trawls through
his whole life to find the moment, and in the end settles on a relatively
ordinary
moment that he's happy with. How we define our lives, as well as more simple
messages on not wasting
the moment
are all in here.
The film
is directed with a deft touch by Kore-eda Hirokazu, blending his actors
with his improvised real people. He lets the novelty of his idea breathe,
and he knows just how long people talking about their five year old epiphany
will sustain interest. Then he lets his plot trickle in, again without
forcing it. For a film set in a dingy school, it is visually still rather
attractive, blending its autumnal shades with a final third drizzled with
snow. It is tightly plotted, and circularly constructed, yet none of it
seems forced - and from his two lead actors he draws out terrific
performances
of considerable depth.
While I
have no belief that any thing happens after our deaths, I like the model
put up in After Life. If only the final week to reflect, and redeem oneself.
After Life discusses all the problems with its own thesis, without being
heavy handed, and neither moralises or preaches to its audience. Indeed
it treats us with utmost respect, and trusts our intelligence. Lightly
directed, with plenty of moments of humour, it will stay in your mind for
a long time and does generate original thought. All in all, you develop
an emotional attachment to the characters, to the idea and to the film
and in the end that makes this nigh on a masterpiece. (10)
IF THIS
FILM WERE A CAR CRASH: Bergman's The Seventh Seal, mixed with A Matter
Of Life And Death, and probably a number of Japanese movies I just
don't know. It has, hithertoo, not really been my field.
Almost
Famous
I suppose
the idea might have had merit. A definitive yet personal account of the
excesses of early seventies music. After all the only major rock film is
This Is Spinal Tap, and that’s a spoof. Rock music is important, it demands
a serious movie. Obviously the film will contain humour, but that gentle
humour laughing with the known excesses of the genre. Make it a coming
of age film too - showing how important rock music is to boys of that age.
Re-read that a second. Then you’ll realise the idea had no real merit at
all.
Cameron
Crowe is an interesting movie-maker, but being interesting is rarely a
reason to actually go watch a directors films. Often rather autobiographical,
often twisting a formula into a slightly different bent - he has made a
fatal misstep in Almost Famous. Even the name of the film is so unambitious,
so bland that it prepares you for a wholesale sanitation of what was a
pretty bad idea to start off with. To then include a character inside the
film (Phillip Seymour-Hofmann as an electric Lester Bangs) pointing out
how rubbish the topic of the film is undermines the whole effort. Rock
bands are dull, the trappings of rock music are only amusing when its own
pomp is deflated - exactly what Tap did. To gently and affectionately poke
fun will not do - the rock beast is too hoary and armour plated to be damaged
by it.
So what
about the coming of age tale. Well Patrick Fugit plays a winsome enough
kid, in the magic Hollywood blend of geeky and cute. However the who backdrop
to his coming of age is so implausible that it removes the viewers connection
with him. A fifteen year old kid would not be invited on tour with a band
(no matter how stupid - and Stillwater are stupid) on the off chance that
he might write them up in Rolling Stone. So our backstage view is disingenuous,
and the coming of age revelations are unnatural. It is not a standard part
of any coming of age story to be deflowered by doped up groupies. It will
not spin us out a decent moral. Indeed there is something wholy unsatisfactory
about a film whose moral appears to be "there’s no place like home". This
is a film about rock music, the liberating idea that music can make your
life better. Now it is clear that the fake band Stillwater’s stodgy shite
is not going to make anyone’s life better but from a self discovery point
of view this is about as conservative as you can get.
Almost Famous
is a road movie, which therefore demands plenty of incident along the way.
On this front we a stupidly tame acid trip, some sex, some drugs and plenty
of amusingly kooky characters. The film almost completely survives on its
supporting cast. The aforementioned Hofmann, Frances McDormand’s over bearing
mother and Kate Hudson’s groupie Penny Lane. Too much of the film rests
on Hudson - whose performance has been over-rated to a massive degree.
Sure, she is pretty, but she is also pretty vacant, and since much relies
on the audience caring for her she is just too one dimensional. Billy Crudup
is - probably purposefully -dull as the mystic guitarist. And Patrick Fugit
is asked to do little except observe. From a journalism point of view he
is the luckiest kid in the world. He gets incident, band arguments, near
death confession and the twin fairy godmothers of Penny Lane and Lester
Bangs. To then come up with an article titled "Stillwater Runs Deep" is
therefore work of the shoddiest order.
Almost Famous,
like Crowe’s other movies, is a thoroughly professional piece of cinema.
It works when it hits all the requisite points of a coming of age drama.
It falls down when it tries to make points about rock music. Instead it
is a collection of tales which would be much better lived than watched,
where all the life has seemingly been sucked out of it all. It is a very
sweet film, too sweet, and passes the time in an annecdotal way. It is
however much less than the sum of its parts, and lingers - like Stillwater’s
music, for about ten seconds after you leave.
IF THIS
FILM WAS A CAR CRASH: Spinal Tap with all the jokes taken out.
American
Beauty
I have a
problem with literary fiction. I read an awful lot, in between going to
see the odd movie and frequenting the more than odd pub. And I read widely
with regards to genre, age and theme. And the genre that annoys me the
most is that strange hybrid, that post war invention: so called literary
fiction. If we move aside the suggestion that by its very name it is superior
to other kinds of novel, we are left with its very aims. It does not -
unlike any other kind of fiction - purport to entertain on a story level.
Indeed, the demands of plot or story is usually far, far away. Instead
it contains character vignettes which strung together attempt to emulate
the deeper questions of mankind. As an ex-philosophy student I find this
vaguely patronising and straying on to the turf of the much better equiped
to answer such questions study of metaphysics. More importantly, much
of it is
toss.
I was trying
to work out what bugged me about American Beauty, and that was it. American
Beauty is the closest modern cinema has got to acknowledging "literary
fiction" as an accessible genre. Of course this is more than partially
due to the fact that cinema is a more direct medium for story-telling.
The classic format for the three act plot is most at him in the cinema,
the two hour time slot fits this perfectly. Combined with the relative
lack of releases, five - six a week allows us a wide range of cinema experiences.
And there is very little there, with perhaps the exception of the action
movie, which is assumed from the outset to be intrinsically more worthless.
I'm not
saying
that American Beauty is a bad film, infact I am about to praise it to the
heavens, but its universal adulation from critics and audiences smacks
to me as a worrying trend. I fear that this is no longer the same cinema
that gave us Shakespeare In Love - a hopelessly trashy piece of nonsense
but deemed no more important than anything else released in its day. And
that day was last year.
Okay, cut
to the quick. American Beauty is a very, very good movie. A clever, lightly
scripted satire on suburban American life as seen via a typical family
with its own peculiar problems. There is no story as such, if it wasn't
for the integral, but sparse voice-over, there would be very little narrative
suspense at all. That the film goes from satire via broad comedy to tragedy
is only accepted by Kevin Spacey's occasional lapses in to monologue. And
yet again, this is a voice-over from beyond the grave (which is de riguer
these days. You just don't get movies with voice-over where your speaker
is not dead at the end. I think its some sort of Hollywood law.)
Anyway,
the acting is top notch. You would expect that from Spacey and Annette
Bening (who is usually described as the under-rated Annette Bening, though
I've always held her in the highest regard. Except maybe in The Siege.)
That said, whilst this is on the surface a film about a mans mid-life crisis,
and under the surface a film about suburban materialism - it is really
about the love affair between two teens. Thora Birch, as the daughter Jane,
is really our lead character, and eventually the character most effected
by the events. The events that unfold
anecdotally,
sporadically and with little structure except a vaguely artificial sense
of knowingness.
This is
Sam Mendes first film, and it belies his previous field - that of the theatre.
There is a sense of space in the film, in the direction which allows the
audience to speculate more. He's working with a sharp script, but even
with that he has managed to turn this into a singularly affecting film.
Which is, paradoxically, the thing I most object to in American Beauty.
I felt manipulated by the film, it knew exactly what it was doing and was
perfectly executed. Which left me wanting some real human emotion to break
through its cleverness. Thora Birch almost achieves it, the film perhaps
should have stayed with her, but instead it delves into a slightly hokey
piece of cod philosophy (ripped I felt from the absolutely priceless After
Life).
Cards on
the table: I really enjoyed American Beauty. It is affecting, and I certainly
dwelled on its numerous themes for quite some time after the film. It plays
safe in a number of areas, it shares a plot with Happiness which it does
not have the courage to persue. Many of the characters are little more
than stereotypes that are merely fleshed out by fantastic acting and deft
direction. But this is all being churlish, since American Beauty is a excellent
film - on a subject which does not interest me at all. Which of course
is what worries me the most. I know
Hollywood,
and if American Beauty is the next big thing, when hello suburban satire.
And hello films about nothing, directed by people far inferior to Sam Mendes
and peopled by Charlie Sheen. (9)
IF THIS
FILM WERE A CAR CRASH: Happiness meets Fight Club meets American Pie (oh
yes - that much masturbation humour).
American
Pie
Well lets
all say a big hello to this weeks High School Teen Comedy. Hello! You wait
ten years for yer teen comedy revival and suddenly ten come along at once.
Some good, some bad, some even I won't watch - I have no desire to even
get near Varsity Blues. There are the ones which aim at the head (Election,
10 Things I Hate About You), and them that aim elsewhere. I'm not sure
exactly where The Faculty and Cruel Intentions were aimed but they went
a wee bit askew. It would appear that American Pie is aimed fair and square
at the arse and dick regions, but in the end throws a curveball and ends
up in the heart. And if you allow me to extend this metaphor further, anything
which reaches your heart via the arse is not going by the most direct route,
and is hence less likely to be successful. Thank you for your indulgence.
That is
the kind of indulgence you will also have to offer American Pie. It takes
the bare bones of the more outre jokes in The Farrelly Brothers movies,
and take them to their logical if rather unpleasant limits. Vomit, shit
and oodles of cum abound in this simple tale of four teenagers desperately
trying to have sex before they graduate from high school. And very funny
some of these jokes are (there is an interesting comparison between Austin
Powers 2 - with a very similar "drinking sequence". There the joke was
too disgusting, here, a different choice of liquid provides a wholly different
result). The film is in a lot of ways derivative of the Farrelly Brothers,
in as much as what make the grotesque humour palatable is likeable characters
and a very strong moral core message. Unfortunately, unlike There's Something
About Mary, American Pie overdoes it a bit too much on the morality side,
and slip-slides into schmaltz.
Of course,
the virgins after sex film has been done before, in the classic (if being
awful can qualify you for classic status) Porkies films. On first view,
there is little to separate American Pie from Porkies, until the boys enact
their various plans to pop their cherry. Kevin has a girlfriend, who won't
shag him. The rest are single: Finch attempts to spread rumours about his
prowess, Oz decides to be sensitive to get a girl, and Jim - well Jim really
hasn't got a clue. The upshot is never in doubt. They all succeed (in ways),
but the calculating ones (ie Finch and Kevin) do it despite of themselves,
and learn an important lesson in the bargain. The real heart of the movie
is the jock Oz, Chris Klein who was also rather good in Election, who joins
the choir to appear sensitive, and discovers - much to his surprise - that
he is actually sensitive. Unfortunately this is laid on a bit thick and
what was quite a nice transformation (which stayed within the boundaries
of his initial characterisation) becomes a wee bit sickly. It is left to
Jim, who is the butt of most of the jokes in the film, to provide us with
the edge that a teen film needs to survive.
Its in the
last third of the film the film starts to fall apart. Whilst "the couples"
problems with sex are amusing, and realistic, they are still the realisation
of the pointless school couple (which is admitted by the film later). When
the morality rears its head, it rears a big head and it is left to the
more amoral characters to redeem what slowly falls into a pat Orco ending
(not that Orco ever moralised on whether He-Man should have sex with Teela
even if he did not love her). It is sweet, but it loses the edge that the
previous pie shagging, spunk drinking episodes gave it. What's left are
a few nice scenes between Jim and his "trying to be understanding" father,
and a hideously underused turn by Natasha Lyonne (Slums Of Beverly Hills)
as the infallible voice of experience.
American
Pie is a lot of fun, and has a lot of very good, very rude gags in it.
What is especially nice is the friends portrayed in the film, really seem
like friends. You have a jock who is mates with a nerd, and two kind of
normal guys. Usually High School is shown to be demarked far too easily
into groups, whereas here it seems a lot more realistic. In a lot of ways
it is the teen comedy released this year which will directly appeal to
the teenage male. He might not be too pleased with the soppy bits, but
his date might get far enough for them to get to third base. Infact, here
is where the difference between the UK and America comes in. Their sport
is Baseball, which leads to first, second, third base type metaphors. Here,
we play cricket, and there are only two wickets. This probably explains
a lot about the simplicity of sex in this country. Its a pity I'm always
out for a duck.(7)
IF THIS
FILM WERE A CAR CRASH: Porkies, meets Some Kind Of Wonderful - that's the
one which had the right ending.
American
Psycho
Ah the great
American Trilogies. You've had your Star Wars, your Indiana Jones's, those
Spaghetti Westerns with that bloke - oh - whatshisname. There is now a
trilogy of Scream movies, I daresay pointing out that trilogies usually
have the weakest film last. Which is the case here. For hot on the heels
of American Pie and American Beauty comes American Psycho. Pooh-poohing
the usual trilogy logic of having the same characters in each film there
is nevertheless a running theme through each three films. Which is the
word American.
American
Psycho is the worst of the three films, but only just. Its well made, very
well acted and looks a treat. It is however an ultimately pointless film.
Based on the Brett Easton Ellis novel which had much notoriety in the late
eighties, with its depiction of a serial killer with no remorse and no
compunction. The book has a visceral description of a serial killer with
no commentary, and is almost pornographic in its portrayal of the deeds
of its yuppie protagonist. A satire on the late eighties Me culture it
may be, but it is also quite a disgusting and disturbing read. (It is also
not really written that well in my opinion - but that's neither here nor
there). The big problem with bringing it to the cinema is that the book
is so graphic it is difficult to stage some of the disgusting acts to get
past a censor.
American
Psycho the film is not actually a very graphic movie. Whilst there is much
blood on display you will see much more cruel and unusual murders in any
of the fantastic sequels to the Nightmare On Elm Street movies. Of course
the notoriety of the book allows the film not to, instead of showing us
the vagina in the fridge there is merely the suggestion when they go to
the fridge that this may be there. The direction is clever in using this,
and at the same time it manages to steer clear of the strongest advance
criticism the film would garner. That said, by avoiding much of the violence,
the effect is lessened of the only really redeeming part of the novel -
which was its nihilistic and overtly graphic depiction of violence.
The nihilism
is still there of course, but instead of horror we have black comedy. And
the black comedy for the first hour works a treat. Christian Bale plays
Patrick Bateman as a gameshow host - dripping insincerity and repulsion
of the world. Anonymous enough to bring no star power to the role, but
looking uncannily like an amalgam of American types (Tom Cruise and Charlie
Sheen flash into his mix on a few occasions). The film survives on this
performance, and Bale does not disappoint. For the first hour this is a
really rather enjoyable black comedy. And then we hit the ending thing.
Like a one
note Fight Club - the relentless violence and social satire of a dead age
has to resolve itself some way. A hint in the book that perhaps this is
all in the mind, becomes more than a hint here. In doubting the reality
of the events in the film, the movie actually destroys itself. This act
weakens the black comedy, undermines the satire (what else is imagined
we wonder) and throws any point the film might have completely to the wind.
American Psycho is merely a period movie, like any Merchant Ivory film.
Its period is recent, but still far removed from life today. In making
satirical points about 80's America, it says nothing about America in 2000.
A film which might have been relevant back then, just flounders pointlessly.
American
Psycho is well made, and in its first hour is rather funny. It then starts
to suffer from repeated jokes (the killings set to appraisal of some of
the eighties worst music is funny once, maybe even twice but three times
is pushing it). That said there is a real feeling that the film is not
relevant in any way, and whatever entertainment value is derived from viewing
it is undermined by the fact that it really should not be all that entertaining.
Perhaps better than the novel, the film falters and in its last moments
even allows us to be sympathetic with Bateman - something the film should
never be. Made well, looks great, but I really don't see the point. (6)
IF THIS
FILM WERE A CAR CRASH: Texas Chainsaw Massacre meets Wall Street. Or so
it would like to think.
Amores
Perros
I mentioned
in my review for The Mexican that I went to Mexico last year. US cultural
imperialism runs rampant, especially to its southernmost neighbour - though
they refuse to speak the language on some sort of principle. In the many
multiplexes however amongst the many showings of X-Men and Gone in 60 Seconds
one Mexican film was more than holding its own. In the smaller towns which
only had one cinema it was unfailingly being shown. It bugged me a touch
because the poster was good and yet I could not see it, since there
would be no subtitles. That film was Amores Perros - and it is as good
as all those Mexican viewers suggest.
The multi-storied
film has become a bit of a perennial of late, post Pulp Fiction. Go was
a more glossy punchy use of the overlapping storytelling technique, whilst
Magnolia raised it to a ridiculous height (eight stories and counting)
- even Traffic used it to great effect. Amores Perros shares with Pulp
Fiction and Go the three story structure, and all of its stories involve
dogs in one way or another. In the first a boy fights his seemingly unbeatable
dog to get money to let him and his sister in law run away. In the second
a model is severely injured in a car accident (coming out of the first
story) and things get increasingly worse for her. In the final story a
grizzled old hitman in shown - by the actions of a dog - that perhaps it
is not too late to change his life. All three stories are engrossing, filmed
beautifully and compliment each other thematically.
This is
a film about loss, and takes it from three perspectives. The loss of something
you never had is the tragedy of the first story - Octavius is immature
and wants the love of his brothers abused wife. Yet she cannot give it
to him - ending in tragic circumstances. The second film is both about
the loss of ones physical being, and the loss of an ideal. Hours before
the car crash the models married boyfriend decides to leave his wife to
be with her. The question is, she is not physically who she was so
does he still love her? The story does not follow the most obvious path
- and is oddly the most humourous (and graphic). Nevertheless the question
is suggested in our minds, which only then escalates as the loss increases.
In the final story a man has lost his entire life - yet he attempts to
make amends near the end. All via a nifty piece of plotting. The grand
theme is therefore a hopeful one, yet the contrasts with the harshness
in each of these tales makes it clear than nothing is ever easy. The contrast
with the dogs is more apposite - is it a dogs life?
Amores Perros
is shot in faux documentary style, the colours a muted and there is notable
use of hand held camera (especially useful in the dog fighting scenes to
not actually show any dogs fighting). It is also a film very much about
Mexico, and Mexico City in particular. This is a city which has both the
very rich and sophisticated rubbing cheek by jowl with the poor - as evinced
by our almost destitute hitman. Also - take my word for it - they drive
like madmen in Mexico. And whilst the film is long (two and a half hours)
it constantly feeds you something new - be it on the current story or sly
references to the other two. It is not temporarily linear, skips about
a fair bit but does have its own consistency - along with a very odd and
eclectic soundtrack which equally evokes the vibrancy of the city where
it is set.
For visceral
film thrills, and serious storytelling, Amores Perros probably has not
been beaten this year (its parallels with Traffic are strong in some ways,
but Amores Perros lacks the political angle which muddles Soderberghs film).
Do not be put off by the theme of dog fighting in one tale, you see nothing
and violence against humans in films is generally worse - and no dogs were
harmed. Instead go to see three very human stories spread out on a back
drop of the largest city in the world. Perhaps not all human life is here,
but it makes a damn fine approximation on some sectors. Put it like this,
nothing will evoke the feeling of loss - as discussed by Amores Perros
- more than if you missed this film. (10)
IF THIS
FILM WERE A CAR CRASH: Let us mix up the good storytelling and serious
subject matter of Traffic, and ram it into the genre defying flair of Pulp
Fiction. Go on, let us throw Lassie in there too.
Analyze
This
Bile, I
got bile. You want some?
I really
dislike Billy Crystal. He's never made a good movie, unless you want to
include his five thankfully wordless seconds as a mime in This Is Spinal
Tap, and I would suggest that this (admittedly fantastic) movie is at its
slowest at that point. I have no time for the self styled "Mr Saturday
Night", who recycles Woody Allen's schtick and pretends to be a later day
Neil Simon whilst actually coming off as a modern day Paul Simon (and I
have equally little time for Paul Simon). Now it is not so easy to slag
off Robert DeNiro in the same way, though I am not a Bob apologist and
can happily hold my hand up and say that he has not made a good movie in
ten years, and even
before
then his strike rate was woefully low for someone oft touted as the best
actor in the world. He is a shameless
mugger,
which is probably why his best roles are as gangsters who are just muggers
in loud suits. Harold Ramis as a director has never impressed me much (or
from what I hear Shania Twain in her old lace curtain dress), he churns
out lifeless comedies, usually concept comedies which are easy to pitch
whilst being devoid of characters who have any resonance or resemblance
to anybody who would exist in the real world. As a rule I detest "concept"
comedies anyway - its the sit-com dichotomy. Humour does not rise from
a situation, rather from well drawn characters reaction to said situations.
Of course it is difficult to describe characters in one line, whereas a
concept - such as "A
Mafia Boss
goes to a psychiatrist due to a crisis of confidence", can be summed up
in twelve words which leaves an awful lot more room for lunch and cocaine
fulled bathroom antics. And as for that concept, well its been done, admittedly
pretty much at the same time but The Soprano's have done it, and aimed
at it purely from a character point of view. Oh, and I really don't like
the title "Analyze This" - it precludes a knowledge of the premise to make
it even make sense. Analyze what?
I really
don't want to analyse this. It really would be a complete waste of my time.
The best that can be said about this ninety minute waste of my life is
that it was not offensive and we walked in ten minutes late due to a stupid
South London usherette. I have taken to seeing the odd film in Croydon
due to my good film going friend Ciori having the misfortune to work in
Orpington and therefore using Norwood as her base. The last couple of weeks
have been slack in the film release schedules, and that's being charitable,
so we decided to risk this. She was
interested
as she is herself in the head doctoring field, and we both liked The Soprano's.
And by know you know I have masochistic tendencies occasionally when it
comes to film selection. So Analyze This it was, just so we could see the
trailers. However we were told by the wee usherette that the film would
start half an hour late due some over-running preview in the morning. So
we popped next door for a beer, in a plasticy false New York Pizza restaurant.
Whilst I am not the fastest drinker in the world, even I can slip back
a pint in half an hour (well, the first of the day goes down quickish).
Yet when we rocked up, Billy Crystal had already crashed his car into one
of the unrealistic Mafia type characters. For about ten minutes we mourned
missing the trailers. Then we realised we had done all right, because we
had missed the gratuitous flashback framing sequence at the beginning.
My heart
is not in reviewing this. As I said, it was not so much bad, as bland.
There was none of the danger of a good black comedy, yet you cannot have
a mafia comedy without death. So the deaths seemed out of place in this
otherwise family film of the week. It has a nice message about being true
to yourself, especially if you are a gangster as confidence crises can
be a touch dangerous in your line of work, and Billy Crystal gets to fuck
up at least ten half decent one liners. At it all culminates in a set piece
which was refilmed six months later, and yet was
still about
as lame as they get. Analyze This at your own peril, sleep through it if
you will, but you sure as hell won't
remember
it. (3 - 2 for the underused Lisa Kudrow)
IF THIS
FILM WERE A CAR CRASH: The Godfather hits Manhattan and the results are
just too horrific to see. Billy Crystal gets badly burnt. Bob De Niro gets
badly burnt. Oh, if only this movie had been a car crash.
Arlington
Road
We had a
party in our house about six months ago (the six months ago bit is to help
specify the party rather than to say we only have parties at six month
intervals). Bradders, the veggie flatmate, saw fit to get shed loads of
Stella in, which happily came with two free cinema tickets on the boxes
cardboard exterior. These have been travelling around in my bag since,
waiting for me to use them before their expiry date. I came across one
today, and noted the expiry date was the 31st March. So off I went, flicking
through Hot Tickets like a bastard to see what I could find. The Plaza
is the only North London UCI of note (excepting the Empire Leicester Square
which frankly would balk at little squares of beer related cardboard),
so it was the Plaza I went to and sifting down the choices, I was left
potentially wanting. I'd seen Pleasantville, and Shaving Ryan's Privates
so it left Arlington Road or The Rugrats Movie. Now as I have a rule that
states I shall not see a movie with movie in the title (burnt by Silent
Movie at a very young age) Arlington Road it was.
ARLINGTON
ROAD FACT ONE: There are nine Arlington Road's in London. This film is
about none of them.
Arlington
Road is a thriller with snatches of brilliance contained within. It contains
some really nice, low key performances which suddenly burst into madness
- or ham acting as it is known in the real world. Tim Robbins bends over
backwards to be ordinary, so we instantly assume he isn't. Jeff Bridges
plays potentially the worlds unluckiest man (wait till he thinks he's had
a stroke of good luck - man does that one blow up in his face). Whilst
it is a relatively adequate thriller, it is a piece which was obviously
conceived in the pub on the back of a beer mat and knocked together some
time afterwards. The beer mat bits are the good ideas - and yes, some of
these ideas are fantastic. The ending is clever - not the bit you think
is the ending -the bit afterwards. At the end. Unfortunately there was
a need to link all these great ideas together, with a desperately cobbled
together plot. Such as the bit you think is the end making really very
little sense. For those of you who wish additional discernment here is
a brief
summary:
Beer Mat
Bit: Blokes wife is killed by terrorists. Bloke suspects that neighbours
are terrorists too.
Desperately
Thinking Of Plot Bit: Blokes wife was an FBI agent. Gives us a handy, if
implausible, link to the FBI.
Beer Mat
Bit: Supposed Terrorist neighbour has good reason for all his deception.
Desperately
Thinking Of Plot Bit: Bloke is a professor of terrorism (and you should
see his teaching style. Perhaps its ironic, I found it a touch simplistic.
How are these kids ever supposed to take notes). This way he know loads
about terrorism.
Beer Mat
Bit: Those murderers and terrorists who are always really nice, quiet guys
who would never do something like that? Maybe that's because they didn't.
Desperately
Thinking Of Plot Bit: To frame someone you're going to have to hope on
a hell of a lot of coincidences and almost get killed.
Beer Mat
Bit: Neighbours bond with your kid that you have been too emotionally disturbed
to really come to terms with.
Desperately
Thinking Of Plot Bit: This emotional not coming to terms with you wifes
death includes finding a long suffering (or not as the case turns out)
attractive new girlfriend, an unhealthy dose of paranoia and long spells
where the camera goes all wonky and we are all supposed to feel a little
sick too.
The dodgy
camera work is one of many signs that this is a rushed, half finished job.
Any film with such a reliance on coincidence as this one is going to test
your patience.
ARLINGTON
ROAD FACT TWO: Jeff Bridges character is called Michael Faraday. Not to
be
confused
with the real Michael Faraday, father of electricity, founder of the Royal
Institution Christmas Lectures and whose head used to be on the back of
a twenty pound note.
This is
another sign of laziness by the way. Naming characters is hard, but when
not one, but two are based on historical figures (the other William Fenimore
- Last Of The Mohicans anyone) you know the writer is in a rush. Which
is a great pity. Because hidden inside Arlington Road is a clever little
thriller. If all the performances had been as quietly confident as Joan
Cusack's, then a real creepy intensity could have been built up. If only
the attempts to keep the audience guessing did not result in turning our
hero into a bit of a loony we would not have noticed the wild leaps in
credulity. But in the end, Arlington Road falls down on its basic premise.
What if one of your neighbours is a terrorist? Hell, Tim Robbins didn't
even live on Arlington Road, but on the road that went off it. What if
a terrorist lived on another street? Well, that's a different movie all
together (and one most probably set in Belfast). (6)
IF THIS
FILM WAS A CAR CRASH: It would be The Parallax View hitting The Devil's
Own. Only Joan Cusack and Hope Davis remembered to wear their seatbelts,
whilst the two drivers - Robbins and Bridges get badly burnt in the aftermath.
All the kids die. Ha Ha.
Austin
Powers : The Spy Who Shagged Me
Sequels
- eh? Never any better than the originals? Of course, the sequels which
are better than the originals exist and are starting to rack up rather
impressively. I was always wary about the "Empire Strikes Back" better
than "Star Wars" argument (though I suppose there is a wholly new "Star
Wars" is better than "The Phantom Menace" argument which could be made
despite being awfully, awfully tedious). However I'm fine with the Godfather
2, French Connection 2, and can even be happily drawn on the Aliens argument.
There is even a defiant group of people I know (Kate and John, truth be
told) who will happily tell you that Wayne's World 2 is better than Wayne's
World. But to this esteemed list, we can now add Austin Powers: The Spy
Who Shagged Me. In a year of cumbersome film titles, this still manages
to win out quite nicely.
Much like
this summers other big grossing sequel (prequel, whatever), it is impossible
to discuss Austin Powers in isolation. Like most sequels, it would be really
difficult to appreciate without seeing the original. Not that The Spy Who
Shagged Me continues many themes from the original, mainly it just repeats
the gags over and over again. Of course there is nothing wrong with this.
Austin Powers vomits out a few more of his catchphrases while Doctor Evil
tries to take over the world. So if there are no new jokes, and no new
major characters, how on earth can this not feel like a tired old rehash
of the previous film.
There are
a couple of reasons, primarily of which: Austin Powers: International Man
Of Mystery, was in itself a rehash. There were not jokes on paper in IMOM
that had not been done before in numerous spy spoofs (Our Man Flint, Casino
Royale and even the Zucker's Top Secret all covered this ground a long
time ago). So where was the appeal of IMOM. The appeal could be laid pretty
squarely at the feet of Mike Myers, and the writing. Austin Powers, unlike
Flint say, was an original creation. He was not a Bond clone, he was a
highly sexed, fashion photographer cum secret agent. He did not spoof any
particular character, merely a type and not even an archetype. Similarly
with Dr Evil. Whilst visually taking his cue from Donald Pleasance's Blofeld,
Myers' Doctor Evil is an meglomaniac who has no real idea of the worth
of money and has a long lost son to try and relate to. Myers has obviously
spent much of the writing chores in fleshing his characters out, building
complex personalities around which to frame some puerile jokes. The time
and trouble pays off though, as we become emotionally involved -
especially
with Dr Evil.
Myers himself
is a great performer, and whilst surrounding himself with an undoubtedly
able cast, does nearly all the work himself. Whilst it may be true that
people become comedians because they want to be loved, Myers actually comes
across as loveable. He has a fantastic rapport with his audience, he has
spent much of his career as our representative up on the screen (think
Waynes World). The beauty of Austin Powers is that the characters too wish
to be loved, or at least in Power's case, shagged. Nowhere is this more
evident with the addition of Mini-Me, an one eight sized clone of Doctor
Evil. There is something touching, and hilarious about the bonding which
provides the film with the majority of its new laughs. And these new laughs
are really funny. Heather Graham also fills the requisite female role with
aplomb, though given little to do she does it at least as well as Liz Hurley
did, and looks better in a Bacofoil Bra.
The Spy
Who Shagged Me is very much of its time, and potentially could date rather
badly. Nevertheless, for your laughter pound, you'll probably not see a
funnier film this summer (I'm a touch torn, because 10 Things I Hate About
You is a better movie, and a comedy, but you probably get more giggles
here). Like an episode of The Simpsons, the are more gags per square inch
than most Hollywood comedies, and whilst not all of them work, enough of
them work to keep you happy. Bottom line though, is that Austin Powers
is endearing, you want to laugh because everyone is trying
so hard
to make you laugh. This is part of the appeal of the Pink Panther films,
a formula, which was funny. And more importantly, Mike Myers is trying
so hard to make you laugh - and hell, he seems like to nice a guy not to
crack a smile. (8)
IF THIS
FILM WERE A CAR CRASH: Austin Powers International Man Of Mystery, I suppose
hits Moonraker? Maybe with a side swipe by Freaks?
