Ted 2

Released:  June 26^th, 2015

Rated:  R

Distributor:  Universal Pictures

Starring:  Mark Wahlberg, Seth MacFarlane, Amanda Seyfried

Directed by:  Seth MacFarlane

Written by:  Seth MacFarlane, Alec Sulkin, Wellesley Wild

Personal Bias Alert:  haven’t seen Ted, not a big MacFarlane fan

3.5 of 10

            Seth MacFarlane has been a staple of American pop culture for over a decade now.  His television series and movies have filled our screens almost nonstop, and while the output is impressive, the variety has been lacking.  His television series, which at one point took up half of Fox’s Animation Domination, have been largely criticized for their similarity, especially when it comes to characters.  My only firsthand knowledge of MacFarlane’s work has been Family Guy, which I watched and enjoyed 10 years ago.  Now having seen Ted 2, I have to throw my support in with those who cry uniformity, because Ted 2 is up to the exact same tricks Family Guy was pulling ten years ago.

            MacFarlane’s humor is still a manic mix of bawdy crudeness, pop culture references, and randomness that often gets unfairly criticized for being dumb.  There’s nothing dumb about the amount of jokes and references he can cram into a piece, nor is it, as others have asserted, an unfairly offensive brand of humor.  It’s a completely fair brand of offensive humor, riffing and finding disgust in almost every type of human being.  Rest assured that Ted 2 will hit on whatever your particular sensitivities are, be it homophobia, sexism, racism, nerdism, or dumbism (I’m making up words now, but you get the point).  In these moments, you’ll squirm with discomfort and your blood will boil, but later on your even-keeled head will recognize that he was tearing down pretty much everyone, and I guarantee that you’ll have belly laughed at several potentially offensive moments.

            No, the problem isn’t that MacFarlane’s humor is undeserving of praise; it’s the package it comes in that’s often its downfall.  That’s the case with Ted 2, which suffers from an overlong, disjointed plot.  It should have stuck to the main storyline where the magically sentient teddy bear named Ted (voiced by MacFarlane) must fight for legal human rights.  Instead, the film gets distracted by subplots and offshoots and an annoyingly long setup that makes the whole thing feel disjointed.  Despite its very clear goal, the whole movie seems aimless, wandering around from joke to joke in a way that distracts from the main plot and inhibits you from getting all that invested.  The sad thing is that MacFarlane does seem to be trying to make a tongue-in-cheek point about human rights, but any weight that might carry gets lost in all the meandering.

            The one subplot that does work in the film is the romance between Ted’s best friend John (Mark Wahlberg) and his lawyer, Samantha (Amanda Seyfried).  Seyfried can do broad comedy in her sleep (we’ve all seen Mean Girls), and there’s good chemistry between her and Wahlberg.  The relationship also gives Wahlberg something to do besides pal around with Ted, where he often hams things up too much, and lets him be the jovial idiot his character is supposed to be.  If the rest of the offshoots had been cut, Ted 2 could’ve been a lean, mean, laugh-inducing machine.

            But MacFarlane likes his offshoots, which here mostly exist just for a joke instead of any real plot point.  He was doing this stuff ten years ago in Family Guy, and the same rule applied then as it does now:  if the joke’s funny, then the diversion is worth it.  Unfortunately, too many of the inconsequential jokes in Ted 2 fall dead flat, and it’s not just an issue of personal taste.  Entire scenes would pass in my screening where the theater was quiet enough to hear crickets, including three people who were clearly MacFarlane fans, because they guffawed at every joke that landed.  Even these folks were silent for far too long, and the buildup of these long dry spells suffocated the occasionally riotous moments.

            The barometer for straight up comedy films will be different for everyone.  If you’re someone who evaluates them purely based on the number of times you laughed, then this film will probably be much more satisfying to you.  It undeniably will make you laugh many times, but I happen to value sustained comedy more.  A five minute mashup of Ted 2’s best jokes would make for an incredibly satisfying YouTube video, but in the film you must sit through nearly two hours of dullness just for these few laughs.  That’s not a satisfying comedy to me.

Other Notes:

Ø  The CGI for Ted looked very seamless.

Ø  I got the various references, but they weren’t funny.  What’s the point if they aren’t funny?

Ø  I really disliked the music in this.  I mean, that title number didn’t fit in, and most of the song choices were way too intrusive.

Ø  The height of Ted made for some weird shots.  I don’t know if I’ve ever seen so many inadvertent legs and crotches in the frame.

Ø  There was a lot of manspreading from Wahlberg.

Dazed and Confused

Released:  September 24^th, 1993

Rated:  R

Distributor:  Gramercy Pictures

Starring:  Jason London, Rory Cochrane, Wiley Wiggins, Adam Goldberg, Matthew McConaughey, Cole Hauser, Parker Posey, Milla Jovovich, Ben Affleck

Directed by:  Richard Linklater

Written by:  Richard Linklater

Personal Bias Alert:  Never was a partier, not a big Linklater fan

7.3 of 10

             At once specific and universal, Dazed and Confused will appeal to different people for different reasons.  Perhaps you grew up in Texas during the mid-70’s, perhaps you were (or are) a stoner, or perhaps you just grew up with a restless sense of misanthropy.  Chances are someone from the massive group of characters will line up with your own teenage self, and that’ll give you something to love during the lackadaisical meandering that Dazed and Confused will take you on.

            Following the high school students in a non-descript Texas town after school lets out for the summer, the various nerds, stoners, jocks, and freshman orbit around each other during a single night of debauchery.  Unlike most high school films, there aren’t rigid cliques, and the advent of summer doesn’t bring about a revelatory mood.  Most of the characters are simply aimless and bored.  The most riled up they get is when the seniors initiate the freshman through degrading events that eventually gives way to comradery, but even too much enthusiasm for that is frowned upon.  No, the film is essentially just high school kids wandering around.  They occasionally get into trouble, but nothing to serious, and to be honest not much really happens.  But isn’t that what so many of us look back fondly on?  The years of hanging out with your friends, back when you had enough time to wallow with each other for hours?

            This distinct lack of plot can be off-putting, particularly as the film wanders through some early clichés.  A party is busted before it can start, an angsty teen rebels against nothing, and the seniors torment the freshman with minimal interference from the town’s adults (this farce is even commented upon by the characters).  Writer/director Richard Linklater has made many of these shuffling movies, and its highly likely that you already know if this style will bother you or not.  This isn’t a particularly clean way to tell a story, and it almost leaves you wondering if there’s an actually story there at all.  Instead, Linklater seems to use these films to capture the particular moods one passes through at different stages in their life, something that takes time to unveil itself in a film, leaving you with long stretches at the beginning where you wonder why the hell you’re watching these characters at all.

            But in the end, it’s the characters you come to appreciate the most.  Recognition, either in a real person or in a fictional character, is a surefire way to establish a bond, and Linklater has proven time and again that he can hook people with his relatable characters.  Many formed a bittersweet bond with the child and mother from Boyhood, and the 18-year spanning Before trilogy has spawned a personal investment in Jesse and Celine’s relationship for many fans.  In Dazed and Confused, Linklater gives us such a broad look at the high school population that there’s certainly someone in there for everyone.  Were you an uncomfortable poser?  Try freshman Mitch (Wiley Wiggins).  How about a laid-back guy looking for a decent time like Slater (Rory Cochrane)?  Or maybe the neurotic ramblings of Mike (Adam Goldberg) were more your jam (they were certainly mine).  The breadth of characters on display, and the precisely perfect casting that brought them to life, is what will make you fall into the spell of this little film.  Although, by the end, the memories it will evoke will make it seem anything but small.

            If Linklater’s intent with Dazed and Confused was to represent high school as it really is, then it’s near impossible to argue that he failed.  The twisting drift of the good-but-not-too-good night he portrayed is something we’ve all experienced, but the decidedly undisciplined approach doesn’t translate to an even film.

Other Notes:

Ø  This film is more entrancing than entertaining.

Ø  “I’m just trying to be honest about being a misanthrope.”

Ø  I see famous people.

Inside Out

Released:  June 19^th, 2015

Rated:  PG

Distributor:  Walt Disney Studios

Starring:  Amy Poehler, Phyllis Smith, Bill Hader, Lewis Black, Mindy Kaling

Directed by:  Pete Docter, Ronaldo Del Carmen

Written by:  Meg LeFauve, Josh Cooley, Pete Docter

Personal Bias Alert:  Not a Pixar devotee, loves Amy Poehler

7.8 of 10

            I believe it was the philosopher Daniel Dennett who said that most people imagine a little man sitting at a desk somewhere between their eyes and their brain who filters their experiences and thoughts.  The parallels between this idea and the setup in Inside Out, which posits that there’s a group of emotions sitting at a control table somewhere between your eyes and your brain who filter your experiences and thoughts, is remarkable.  While Dennett used the setup to explore an entirely different idea, the striking similarity made it difficult for me to take Inside Out as such a novel idea.  Not that novelty is a necessity, but it does add an extra bit of zest to a film, something that might have bumped Inside Out into the upper echelon of family films.  Without that extra pop, it’s relegated to that group of perfectly adequate, well-made attempts that just missed the mark of true greatness.

            Inside Out is the latest from Disney/Pixar, whose recent dip in quality have allowed their competitors to get within reach of their big man on campus status.  Struggling is a relative term, of course, but their recent spate of sequels/prequels (with many more on the way) have fans wondering if they’re struggling to come up with original ideas now that they’ve worked through their napkin movies (if you’re unfamiliar with that tale, read http://www.businessinsider.com/pixar-movies-thanks-to-napkin-sketches-at-lunch-meeting-2014-4).  Still, Pixar continues to be the most narratively ambitious of the major animation studios, here taking on the inner tumult of a preteen, Riley (Kaitlyn Dias), who’s forced to move from Minnesota to San Francisco with her strained family.  While Riley is the focal point of the story, it’s the emotions inside her that are the real main characters.  Joy (Amy Poehler), Sadness (Phyllis Smith), Fear (Bill Hader), Anger (Lewis Black), and Disgust (Mindy Kaling) are all personified as real creatures in her head, and it’s the interactions between these five that control what Riley does.  Hence, we learn about Riley from the inside out (get it?).

            This setup allowed for the Pixar team to invent a visual representation of a person’s mind, which is exactly the sort of task where they separate themselves from the animation pack.  The detailed thought that went into the world building is astounding, as always, giving the impression of a labyrinthine space that’s constantly shifting, held together by only the most tenuous bands.  If ever a more accurate representation of a growing mind existed, then I’m not aware of it.

            The same level of thought went into the character designs of the five emotions, whose outlines and colorations naturally evoke their designated state.  Fear is a lanky, squirrely fellow who seems constantly primed to curl up into a ball on the ground.  Disgust is green with a perpetually disaffected look, and Anger is like a fire red block.  Joy and Sadness, who form the film’s main duo, have the same color hair for a nice visual match, but joy is lighter and literally glows while Sadness is stocky and bundled up.  There’s never any danger of confusing the characters (you could tell them apart by their outlines alone), and it’s a joy (pardon the pun) to watch the detailed differences between the five emotions.

            Where Pixar dropped the ball a bit was in matching this visual execution to an equally inventive plot.  The setup, as previously discussed, isn’t an original as it might seem, and the plot never quite gains a sturdy foothold.  The beginning narration sputters through thick exposition, and the rest of the film never finds a balance between Riley’s outer life and the one inside her head.  The inner life plot feels very episodic and overly long, while Riley’s outer life doesn’t actually follow the rules that the film established for itself.  This creates an emotional rift between Riley and her, well, emotions, so that while each storyline does contains some potentially powerful moments, they don’t work in concert with each other.

            The ambition of this story is admirable, but it also raises the bar for what the film must achieve to be considered truly great.  So while Inside Out is a funny, heartfelt film, its failure to fully capitalize on its premise makes it feel like a bit of a missed shot.  It’s just barely off the mark, but we’ve all seen Pixar hit the bull’s-eye many times, which makes it a bit more disappointing when they don’t.

Other Notes:

Ø  I’ve seen this in 2D and 3D, and the 3D feels like an unnecessary add-on.  Totally not worth it.

Ø  This is some all-around excellent voice casting.

Ø  I never even came close to crying at this one, proving yet again that there’s a black void where my heart should be.

Enter the Void

Released:  September 24^th, 2010

Rated:  Not Rated

Distributor:  IFC Films

Starring:  Nathaniel Brown, Paz de la Huerta, Cyril Roy, Olly Alexander

Directed by:  Gaspar Noé

Written by:  Gaspar Noé

Personal Bias Alert:  likes being challenged, wasn’t impressed by Noé’s Irreversible

3.5 of 10

            Gaspar Noé is a man that fearlessly makes films, although he probably doesn’t consider it a fearless act.  He probably wonders why the rest of us are too meek to make these kinds of pieces, so restrained by our quaint ideas of propriety and respect.  This openness makes him a fascinating filmmaker, but also one that’s a bit baffling.  Can you imagine creating something as aggressively nasty as Enter the Void or Irreversible and then sitting in a packed theater while others watch it?  Or worse, walking out onstage afterwards as everyone is nervously fidgeting, trying to reorient themselves to the regular world?  I’ve never seen Noé in real life, but I imagine him striding onto such a stage with an unassuming casualness.  He doesn’t expect to have to defend his films; they’re far too meaningless to be worth a defense.

            In the few interviews I have seen of him, he seems most enthusiastic about discussing his filming techniques, which is the one thing he undoubtedly puts a lot of effort into.  Not that his style is any less repulsive than his content; he also pushes the boundary of making people physically uncomfortable, forcing the audience to sit through strobing lights and swirling frames, emphasized in Enter the Void by the main character’s heavy drug use.  In an attempt to capture the effects of such highs, the setting disintegrates into fluid streams of glowing structures, heavily patterned, and seemingly endless in repetition.  The entire film is shot in a quite literal first person point of view, seeing the events as the main character would and catching glimpses of him only in mirrors and remembered flashbacks.  To make things even more dizzying, he dies towards the beginning of the film (not a spoiler) and spends most of the runtime floating in the void of death, watching events unfold below him.  The hovering effect and the blocking of the overhead angles are thrilling if only for their uniqueness, and Noé is attentive enough to fill the frame with a brimming, oversaturated version of Tokyo.  The visuals in Enter the Void are beyond reproach, both for their technical and imaginative aspects, and make this film a worthwhile study for anyone looking to explore how a camera can move.

            Unfortunately, Noé fails to bring anywhere near the same level of attention or precision to his story.  It’s a loose piece that lacks any real sense of pace or arc, drifting (quite literally) between events that are often so simple that it’s hard to come up with a more descriptive term.  Simply put, the film’s boring, even when dramatic events like the main character’s death and possible afterlife are occurring.  The fact that it’s never explicitly clear what is happening – whether we’re seeing the character’s literal afterlife or the dying fizzles of his brain – isn’t even enough to keep things interesting.

            The problem stems from Noé’s unrelenting tone, a mix of the-world-means-nothing absurdism with a pessimist’s unrelenting nightmares.  It’s clear that nothing good will happen in Enter the Void, and the viewer’s mind will sense that and throw up every natural defense it has.  The actors, largely inexperienced, prove inadequate at drawing us back in, and Noé’s unoriginal shock tactics become almost laughable.  Someone unaccustomed to the more extreme movements in European cinema may find the graphic scenes either off-putting or revelatory, but the shock will do little to uncover any deeper meaning.  There’s simply nothing behind this 2+ hour slog except some fancy camerawork, but perhaps that emptiness is Noé’s preferred parting shot to his audience.

Other Notes:

Ø  Indulgent is the best word to describe it.  Or over-indulgent.  Yeah, that’s a better one.

Ø  That was one of the least subtle linkings of sex and death that I’ve seen in a while.

Ø  I saw the ending coming, and I was wishing it wouldn’t make me see it.  But yep, of course it made me see it.

Jurassic World

Released:  June 12^th, 2015

Rated:  PG-13

Distributor:  Universal Pictures

Starring:  Chris Pratt, Bryce Dallas Howard, Vincent D’Onofrio, Ty Simpkins, Nick Robinson, B.D. Wong

Directed by:  Colin Trevorrow

Written by:  Rick Jaffa, Amanda Silver, Colin Trevorrow, Derek Conolly

Personal Bias Alert:  Jurassic Park and The Lost World are formative movies for me, loved Trevorrow’s Safety Not Guaranteed

6 of 10

            Controversial statement:  Jaws is Steven Spielberg’s best monster movie, far exceeding anything he accomplished in the Jurassic Park series.  It’s a more focused film, and it benefited from existing before the advent of summer blockbuster expectations.  The Jurassic Park series, even the original film, all bear the scars of audience expectation and studio guidance.  Spielberg still managed to make Jurassic Park and The Lost World into awe-inspiring dinosaur flicks, which is exactly what everyone wanted from them, but they come in cliché-ridden, formulaic packages.   22 years and 1 day later, a sophomore director brings us a revival of the series, still under the tutelage of executive producer Spielberg, that’s so battered and bruised from its multi-handed pre-production that it’s almost dead on arrival.

            Simply looking at the amount of credited writers should warn you of a too-many-cooks-in-the-kitchen scenario, and if reports are to be believed, then the script also went through many hands in addition to that list.  Amazing considering that all four Jurassic Park movies essentially follow the outline given by Jeff Goldblum’s Malcolm in The Lost World:  “Ooh, ahh, that’s how it always starts, but then later there’s running and then screaming.”  Beyond that, they’re a cliché smorgasbord of vaguely scientific ideas, endangered moppets, and tension-freeing one-liners.  Jurassic World feels like a bunch of people who loved the original films took stabs at recreating the magic only to have their ideas poured into a tumbler that was shaken, not stirred, and dumped out to create a hodgepodge script that doesn’t know how to get to where they all want it to go.  It’s a mess at the beginning, with creaky characters and prolonged scenes that often feel superfluous to the rest of the film.  But sometime past the halfway point, when the dinosaurs finally take over from the forced plot, it evens out into the ripping and shredding thrill ride we all wanted.

            Director Colin Trevorrow was a surprise choice to lead the series revival, with only the charming, character-driven indie Safety Not Guaranteed under his belt (which happens to be one of my favorite films from a very strong 2012).  One would expect him to struggle with the large action sequences and nail the film’s smaller moments, but it’s the exact opposite that proves true.  The dinosaur scenes, while lacking some of the tension-building of the original film, are big, coherent pieces that lets the audience revel at the sights in front of them.  This, and perhaps a bit of nostalgia, are what’s driving audiences in droves to this film, and Trevorrow and the special effects team make it hard to walk away nonplussed.

            Those characters, though, almost sink the whole enterprise.  The only thing that works about them is that they’re portrayed by likable actors, and humanity generally doesn’t wish to see other humans to get eaten alive.  So they engender the most basic level of sympathy, but each one of them has such glaring flaws that, dependent on your personal pet peeves, you may want to punch in the face.  Chris Pratt’s Owen is a badass who often comes across as smug, while his forced romantic mate, Bryce Dallas Howard’s Claire, is a horrendous step back in the portrayal of single, working women.  Older moppet Zach (Nick Robertson) is a stereotypically unaffected teen who ignores his know-it-all younger brother moppet Gray (Ty Simpkins).  All the actors are shoe-horned into these terribly written roles, and all struggle and fail to make them into anything more than stock characters.

            What the people behind this film did understand was that they needed to infuse it with the nostalgia we were all pining for.  Jurassic World is rampant with obvious references and hidden Easter eggs, some of which are satisfying while others feel like a bit too much.  It would have been nice to see this film stand on its own two feet a bit more, but it’s also impossible to ignore how happy these reminders made me and my fellow moviegoers.  Jurassic World’s main goal seemed to be to remind us of how thrilling Jurassic Park was when we first saw it, which it definitively succeeds at, but it fails to bring any new thrills to the series.

Other Notes (Atrocious Continuity Version):

Ø  In a scene where Zach is being chased, he clearly slows to turn around and look at the dino, but the next cut shows him running full steam ahead.

Ø  In the control room, Owen knocks off the toys on one guy’s station.  When it cuts to Owen stomping off, he’s magically moved to the other side of the room.

Other Notes (Regular Version):

Ø  Did you catch the symbolism in the clothing for Owen and Claire?  Owen is in all earth tones, because he understands how nature works.  Claire starts in a bright white ensemble, progressively showing other colors and getting it smeared in mud as she is forced to get her hands dirty.

Ø  Why does the Asset Containment Unit wear bullet proof vests?  Did they engineer some of the dinosaurs to use guns?

Ø  I’m still humming that theme music.

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl

Released:  June 12^th, 2015

Rated:  PG-13

Distributor:  20^th Century Fox

Starring:  Thomas Mann, Olivia Cooke, Ronald Cyler II, Jon Bernthal, Nick Offerman, Connie Britton

Directed by:  Alfonso Gomez-Rejon

Written by:  Jesse Andrews

Personal Bias Alert:  haven’t read the book, wasn’t excited for it

7.5 of 10

            Everybody likes a pleasant surprise, and despite its massive success at the Sundance Film Festival (it won the grand jury and audience awards), Me and Earl and the Dying Girl still manages to surprise.  There are things you expect from a Sundance film, like a good heart, a tinge of sadness, and quirks galore.  Me and Earl, unsurprisingly, ticks all these boxes, but it also manages to deliver the kind of honest, complicated message that many Sundance films shy away from.

            As the title indicates, this film is about a trio of high school friends:  Greg (Thomas Mann), Earl (RJ Cyler II), and Rachel (Olivia Cooke).  Although, it’s more about how they become friends.  Greg is the kind of person who keeps people at arm’s length, so despite knowing Earl for many years, they aren’t exactly friends at the start.  Rachel is even further removed from the group, a simple acquaintance of the two boys until the combination of leukemia and a pushy mom forces them to become closer.  As they spend time together and develop a genuine relationship, Rachel’s illness makes all of them go into some very personal places.

            This film is being flippantly described as an indie version of The Fault in our Stars, but, having seen both films, that doesn’t feel quite right.  The Fault in our Stars is the story of a girl finding closure at the end of her life.  Me and Earl is about a boy figuring out how to live his.  What the two films identify as the vital part of life is subtly different, Fault being a bit narrower and Earl being a bit broader.  What’s the same is that both films weave their smart message into very conventional plots, making the consumption of these truths more palatable.

            Alfonso Gomez-Rejon is still relatively new to the director’s chair, but he apes indie quirk well.  He’s clearly seen all the right films, particularly Wes Anderson’s catalogue, and set up his shots and story beats to match what he’s seen.  This gives the whole film a solid, familiar feel that’s both attractive and unimpressive.  Gomez-Rejon certainly put in the effort; many shots feature elaborate camera moves through crowds of people while adhering to that trademark Anderson symmetry, but none of it bears the mark of an original idea.  Without that, even the most well-constructed film will feel a bit dull.

            Writer Jesse Andrews is another newcomer, his only works being this screenplay and the novel on which it’s based.  Again, the inexperience shows in his ability to mimic the elements of a good indie without the finesse needed to balance them.  There’s too much quirk, especially in the early goings, which keeps its world a bit removed from the audience.  It’s hard to completely buy a film that’s so manufactured, but luckily the tone modulates just in time to deliver a few honest scenes between its three characters.  The quirk is still there, mind you, it just takes a step back to allow the characters their moment in the sun.

            And shine they do thanks to the excellent trio of young actors portraying them.  Mann had a particularly tough role as the titular Me, a potentially tiresome middle-class white boy complaining about problems that he’s created.  But Mann and writer Andrews root the character’s problems in the fear of inadequacy, something we can all relate to and hence excuse.  Cyler’s Earl and Cooke’s Rachel are primarily there to flesh out and push Greg, but these relationships aren’t simple.  Both actors are able to get across their simultaneous annoyance and affection for Greg, and these complications make them feel like real people instead of pawns in Greg’s life.

            The ending of Me and Earl contains a beautifully empathetic scene.  The whole ending is spectacularly done, but it’s that one scene that has stuck with me.  The film’s an oddball in that it grew on me after I walked away.  Normally, films fade from the mind after they end, but if there’s a real emotional truth to them, they’ll linger in my head.  Me and Earl managed just that.

Other Notes:

Ø  I really like the music and sound editing in this film, but it was a massive mistake to use a song from Friday Night Lights at the end.

Ø  This film butters up its audience by constantly referencing other movies.

Ø  That montage of the different ways Rachel smiles is outstanding.

City of God

Released:  January 17^th, 2003

Rated:  R

Distributor:  Miramax

Starring:  Alexandre Rodrigues, Alice Braga, Leandro Firmino, Phellipe Haagensen, Matheus Nachtergaele, Seu Jorge

Directed by:  Fernando Meirelles, Kátia Lund

Written by:  Bráulio Mantovani

Personal Bias Alert:  likes intersecting narratives, hasn’t seen many Brazilian films

7.5 of 10

            Most of us, thankfully, will never experience life as the characters in City of God do.  Relegated to a slum outside Rio de Janeiro, they must fight and claw for the things they have and are given little opportunity to better themselves.  Their lives are violent and short, seemingly predestined to end in tragedy, especially when a lucrative but dangerous career in drug dealing is the most readily available avenue.

            City of God is loosely based on the rising drug wars in the titular slum from the ‘60s to the ‘80s, tracking a young man nicknamed Rocket (Alexandre Rodrigues) as he tries to avoid the life (and death) swirling around him.  The story is all crime epic, following his various acquaintances as their businesses, relationships, and statuses shift over the long period we are with them.  Even larger than the characters is the City of God itself, always sprawling out around them, swallowing their pain and ambition and chewing them up in its seemingly endless machinations.  The city is a personification of their circumstance, and those who tango with it too long are bound to never leave the dance floor.

             If City of God is sounding hopelessly dark, then good, it’s meant to, but directors Fernando Meirelles and Kátia Lund never let you wallow in it.  They keep the film moving swiftly through the violence and turmoil by quite literally keeping the camera moving.  It jostles and shakes, often taking the point of view of a bystander or a character on the fringes of this mad world.  In a way, they’re relegating the audience to the same eavesdropping role that Rocket is playing.  We get to observe, but we never get too close.  That distance is what saves the film from becoming a chore.  If it had gone too dark, then no one would have watched it.  As is, it skirts in the shadows, never lying to us about the realities of a world that really does exist but never demonizing the people caught up in it.

            A sprawling, ambitious look at such a complex world is rarely pulled off seamlessly, and City of God is guilty of pushing its scope a bit too far.  A few too many narrative offshoots are followed, which I’m sure were intended to thicken the world-building but mostly come off as tangential.  Rocket is lost for long periods of the film, and you’re left wondering at times what the point of all of this will be.  This lack of focus persists throughout the film, which robs the entire film of some momentum and the ending of some luster.  The great epics are sprawling in scope but tight in narrative, delivering a succinct message with an air of gravitas.  City of God is loose in almost all aspects, and because of that its observations on cyclical violence lands with a bit of a thud.

             There is a sense, however, that this feeling was intentional.  The directors went out of their way to cast non-actors, many of whom were picked up from real-life slums, and to shoot as near as possible to the real City of God.  These choices lend the film an easy air of authenticity, but the directing duo seem to have gotten lost a bit in their quest for realism.  As thrilling as it is to feel that a foreign world is so being captured so completely, this film seemed to be shooting for a larger message that they only halfway found.

Other Notes:

Ø  This is very much in that early ‘00s style of expansive, intersecting narratives.

Ø  Both directors, after their brief moment in the spotlight following the release of this film, have seen their careers fade to video on demand releases (Meirelles) or outright stagnation (Lund).

Ø  If you didn’t see Benny’s arc coming, then you haven’t watched many crime films.

Insidious: Chapter 3

Released:  June 5^th, 2015

Rated:  PG-13

Distributor:  Focus Features

Starring:  Stefanie Scott, Dermot Mulroney, Angus Sampson, Leigh Whannell, Lin Shaye

Directed by:  Leigh Whannell

Written by:  Leigh Whannell

Personal Bias Alert:  seen Insidious:  Chapter 2 but not Insidious, eternally skeptical of PG-13 horror

 6.5 of 10

            It’s another horror film from Blumhouse Productions, whose logo is now so familiar and mind-numbing that it’s almost a parody of itself.  It’s a series of uninspired horror images (a floating chair, a young girl in white dress, etc.) set to the sounds of heavy breathing, a beating heart, and a rising cacophony of dissonant noise.  The actual logo hits 10 seconds in, and there’s an unsettling sense that the interlude is a highlight reel of the trashy film to come.  For some of Blumhouse’s pictures, this is disappointingly the most unsettling few moments (Ouija, for instance), but the studio does have some quality hits, the Insidious series included among them.  For PG-13 horror, it’s a remarkably consistent fright factory, relying on classic imagery and unabashed jump scares that will at least unsettle you during their brief runtimes.

            Chapter 3 takes place before the rest of the series, replacing the Lambert family with the Brenner family and introducing a new ghost for Lin Shaye’s Elise to battle.  What remains consistent is the series’ underpinning idea that the problems stem from family history:  the Lambert’s susceptibility is hereditary and the Brenner’s bring about their ghost after the loss of the mother.  Familial threats are a horror movie staple for many good reasons, all of which are utilized effectively in Insidious:  Chapter 3.  The loss makes for an easy setup:  girl loses mother, girl understandably tries to contact mother, scary gas-mask ghost comes instead of mom.  It also links the ghost to the people instead of a place, getting rid of the old ‘why don’t they just walk out the door’ dilemma.  There’s other good setup here, too, particularly the double broken legs that renders the haunted girl immobile and defenseless.  This setup is the strongest aspect of the film, allowing the gears to get going and keep spinning with little effort, which turns out to be a big help for first-time director Leigh Whannell.

            Whannell wrote the entire Insidious series and was clearly comfortable to follow in James Wan’s directorial footsteps.  He makes almost no changes to the series’ formula of practical effects and incessantly quick jump scares.  The saving grace of this formula, and something that other horror writers should take note of, is the avoidance of cheap jump scares.  There’s minimal cats appearing from dark spots or friends approaching from behind doors.  When things do jump into frame they’re almost always real threats, which keeps the frustration at bay.  There is the mildly annoying factor that these scares are punctuated by a loud soundtrack from another series holdover, composer Joseph Bishara, but that’s more of a taste issue than a real fault. 

            Where the film does falter is in several of the minor elements of the script.  Characters that have rather prominent roles in the beginning just disappear from the film with no explanation, and lots of the nuts and bolts dialogue in the first act is atrocious.  Perhaps it’s not sexy work to iron out these kinks, especially when you’re pulling writing, directing, and acting duties for the first time, but the buildup of these flaws becomes quite noticeable by the end.

The other big plus that Whannell took from the previous installments is the importance of a good cast.  Shaye is a solid anchor for the series, allowing it to jump to different stories while still having a familiar, committed actor for audiences to hang onto.  Newcomers Dermot Mulroney and Stefanie Scott stick to how seriously the film’s take themselves, and their relationship is developed just enough for a one-time appearance in the series.

            Insidious:  Chapter 3 is a rather sturdy film for a third outing in a horror series thanks to the holdovers it contains from previous installments.  Whannell seems comfortable enough behind the camera, so hopefully he brings a more personal flair to his next film.

Other Notes:

Ø  You know what else is consistent about this series?  It’s runtimes: 102, 105, and 97 minutes.

Ø  Highlight scene:  when the ghost attacks the girl in her bedroom and takes its excruciating time.

Ø  There’s that lesbian joke about the main girl, but I think she might actually be a lesbian.  She did have an Uh Huh Her poster in her room.

Spy

Released:  June 5^th, 2015

Rated:  R

Distributor:  20^th Century Fox

Starring:  Melissa McCarthy, Jason Statham, Rose Byrne, Miranda Hart, Bobby Cannavale, Allison Janney, Jude Law

Directed by:  Paul Feig

Written by:  Paul Feig

Personal Bias Alert:  not into broad comedy, haven’t seen any of Paul Feig’s movies

6 of 10

            The recent renaissance of commercially and critically successful James Bond flicks like Casino Royale and Skyfall have thrust the spy movie back into the spotlight.  Such success inevitably brings about parodies, homages, and comedic twists, littering cinemas with all variations on the genre.  2015 has already seen the homage-heavy Kingsman:  The Secret Service, and now we have the action-comedy Spy by writer/director Paul Feig.  Feig has openly spoken about how 2006’s Casino Royale planted the idea for Spy in his brain, and the years of gestation seems to have done the project some good.  For as broad of a comedy as it is, it’s remarkably well-balanced, delivery incessant comedy with smartly placed action.

            Feig again brings his female-lead twist, casting longtime collaborator Melissa McCarthy as the aspiring spy and filling out the rest of the cast with a raft of prominent women.  Miranda Hart appears as her sidekick, Allison Janney as her boss, and Rose Byrne as the main baddie.  Jude Law has the most prominent male role, and even he’s largely relegated to memories after a botched mission leads McCarthy into the field. 

Such female-driven films are slowly becoming more common, in no small part thanks to Feig and McCarthy, but rarely do we get to see the ladies dominating the action like they do here.  And I mean action, as McCarthy and company feature prominently in several rough-and-tumble sequences.  All are littered with quippy asides to maintain a light mood, but many are so well-choreographed that they are more than capable of standing on their own swivel-kicking feet.  Feig shows a good eye for capturing the action, using energetic cuts to keep it feeling rough without sacrificing continuity.  Similar camerawork is used throughout the film, helping to smooth the transition between the comedy and action elements.

Where the film stumbles is in its comedy, delivering the same ridiculous, mean-spirited jokes over and over again.  Feig must like McCarthy, otherwise they wouldn’t work together so much, but you wouldn’t know it by watching Spy.  Most of the time, her character is the continuous butt of jokes.  There is a sense that the jokes come from a place of misunderstanding, that everyone around her is only doing it based on incorrect assumptions about her appearance, but the fact that she becomes just as nasty as her compatriots takes away any chance this film had to teach a lesson about how incorrect this thinking is.  To be fair, McCarthy isn’t the only one to get picked on.  Everyone gets the hammer dropped on them at one point or another.  In fact, calling this film mean-spirited is incredibly nice of me, much nicer than the film is to its characters.  There are other, smarter ways of being funny.  Feig could have at least mixed it up a bit.

Despite the uphill battle, McCarthy remains a mostly likable presence.  She and all the other actors are hamstrung by paper-thin characters and a supremely traditional plot, but most operate adequately within these confines.  Jude Law and Rose Byrne make out the best, wringing their characters for all the smarm they’re worth without mugging for the camera.  Most of the cast seem happy enough to deliver their lines with all the clunk of a network sitcom, but it seems that Spy wasn’t aiming for much more than that.

Other Notes:

Ø  I like Rose Byrne in all these comedies she’s doing.

Ø  On the other hand, I didn’t like Jason Statham’s appearance.  I don’t blame Statham, I blame the irksome writing.

Ø  Someone will have to explain to me what’s funny about the pest infestations, because I didn’t get it.

Ø  In the film’s defense, I seemed to be much less enthused than the people at my screening were.  Perhaps the problem lies with me.

The House I Live In

Released:  October 5^th, 2012

Rated:  Not Rated

Distributor:  Abramorama

Directed by:  Eugene Jarecki

Written by:  Eugene Jarecki

Personal Bias Alert:  loves documentaries, concerned about America’s legal stance on drugs

5.5 of 10

            Is America handling drug use incorrectly?  Yes.  Are the current legal policies clogging our justice system?  Absolutely.  Does an overly simplistic look at a very large problem really accomplish anything?  That’s the million dollar question hanging over the The House I Live In, a documentary that examines the failure of the American political and legal system’s attempts to address drug use.  If the response to this film can be taken as an answer to that last question, then it’s a resounding no.

             The film was seen by few upon initial release but found an audience and some vocal supporters thanks to its inclusion on Netflix, yet any groundswell of political support has remained absent.  Another documentary that was a similar box office dud in 2012 was The Invisible War, which laid out the problems with an equally broken American institution that did manage to spur modest but real change.  The difference between the two film’s responses has nothing to do with one issue being more unjust than the other.  No, the difference lies in the presentation of their arguments.  Where The Invisible War formed its facts into a starkly clear message, The House I Live In mixes the repercussions of the system’s failures in a way that never builds its argument towards anything.  Its main point is laid bare pretty early on with the rest of the movie simply hammering it home.  The fact that this point isn’t even complex and is readily evident to anyone who’s taken a serious look at drug laws in America makes the whole film feel a bit pointless.

            A pointless film, documentary or not, is one that’s primed for drag, and The House I Live In does, at times, feel like its dragging its feet.  It circles around the same arguments a bit too long, brings in a few too many experts to make its points, and relies far too much on talking head interviews to present its ideas.  This overreliance on a rather uncinematic style of storytelling adds no flavor to the film and shortchanges the interviewee’s points.  Documentaries give you the opportunity to present an argument and illustrate it at the same time, but director Eugene Jarecki didn’t bother with any of that.  Perhaps he thought the facts would speak for themselves, which they do, but even the best laid arguments can put someone to sleep.

            For all its presentation flaws, The House I Live In remains worthwhile viewing if you are at all interested in learning about America’s relationship with drugs.  It’s a well-researched piece, covering the history of legal and illegal drug use in the country while giving it socio-economic context.  To ignore the relationship between such factors would be a disservice, and it’s here that Jarecki finally doesn’t oversimplify things.  He avoids making it out to be solely a race issue and examines both the historical factors that have led large groups of people to join the drug business and why the ‘war’ on drugs has become such an ingrained part of American culture.  This makes for a rather broad, sympathetic look at street level drug business, but it ignores the next level complications that might mess up his purposefully tragic picture.

            The evidence Jarecki presents certainly makes his tragic portrait seem valid, but it also seems that Jarecki himself may have gotten lost in the darkness.  The picture he paints is almost hopeless, offering no the audience no viable avenues out.  Instead, there’s an attempt at the end to make fire and brimstone proclamations that must have been intended to jar the country off its current path.  The reach goes a bit too far, though, and the more outrageous statements are retracted a few breaths after they are issued.  With seemingly no light at the end of the tunnel, audiences are more apt to leave this documentary feeling defeated instead of aggravated, which, according to Jarecki’s own argument, will only make the situation worse.

Other Notes:

Ø  I know it’s unhip to admit this, but I’ve never seen The Wire, so I didn’t care when David Simon appeared.

Ø  It really was unnecessary for Jarecki to insert himself into the story.

Ø  This won the Grand Jury Prize:  Documentary at the 2012 Sundance Film Festival.  It’s yet another indication that Sundance isn’t to my taste.