The Conversation

Released:  April 7^th, 1974

Rated:  PG

Distributor:  Paramount Pictures

Starring:  Gene Hackman, John Cazale, Allen Garfield, Michael Higgins, Cindy Williams, Frederic Forrest, Harrison Ford, Robert Duvall

Directed by:  Francis Ford Coppola

Written by:  Francis Ford Coppola

Personal Bias Alert:  likes to pretend to have privacy, intrigued by its Palme d’Or win

7.5 of 10

            How good do you have to be to have two films up for Best Picture at The Oscars in one year?  You have to be as good as Francis Ford Coppola, Alfred Hitchcock, Steven Soderbergh, and the seven other esteemed men who’ve achieved the feat.  If you hadn’t guessed, The Conversation was a Best Picture nominee in 1974, losing to Coppola’s The Godfather:  Part II.  You have to wonder what that ceremony was like for the cast and crew of the losing Coppola film.  They were undoubtedly happy for him, but it’s easy to imagine a vein of resentment, a wish that he had staggered these two out a bit so their film could get its due.  Posterity seems to agree with The Oscars, as The Conversation has faded into obscurity while The Godfather:  Part II routinely comes up in discussions of the best film of all time.  It’s must be tough to always be compared to something so great, but The Conversation has its own merits and perhaps has faded more due to the changing times than any real flaw.

            Harry Caul (Gene Hackman) is a private investigator with a knack for gadgets that’s landed him a revered status within his profession.  The jobs he’s pulled off are contemplated and discussed over beers and cigars by his colleagues but has left him leery and suspicious that someone might be watching him at all times.  A more closed book would be difficult to find, and Hackman isn’t an obvious choice for the part.  But great actors can surprise you, and Hackman is a great actor.  The way he portrays Harry’s constant discomfort as if he’s continuously on his heels and ready to spin away at any moment is a subtle choice, as is his ill-fitting wardrobe and odd jacket.  As to be expected with a character like Harry, it’s the quiet moments where Hackman shines, and there’s several such instances where Hackman engenders such deep empathy for the troubled man that it only seems respectful to turn away and give him the privacy he so desires.

            The near-impossibility of maintaining your privacy is the obvious primary theme of the movie, and this film predates the widespread use of the internet and the crumbling of personal privacy that it brought along with it.  Nowadays, most people know that everything in life is tracked, from the purchases you make to your phone calls to your mother.  That knowledge has made us a bit less bothered by the idea of surveillance, but mostly it remains out of people’s minds, catalogued away with the other things in life that’s easier not to think about.  The spotlight that The Conversation puts on this fact and the well-researched lengths it goes to describe exactly how you can be monitored is still troubling, but the bite has lost some force now that we know our correspondences are saved by the government and that Target sends us personalized coupons.

            What still works fully is a subplot about Harry being racked by guilt over the potential ramifications of his work.  There’s illusions to a past job where someone may have been hurt because of the information Harry collected, and the conversation he records in the riveting opening sequence of the film begins to remind him of that case.  He wrestles for the rest of the film over whether he should turn over the tapes or keep them to himself, a personification of his own inner debate about his culpability in his cases that’s compounded by a healthy dose of Catholic guilt.  Between this and Harry’s monitoring paranoia, Coppola and team created a deep and well-rounded character that has almost certainly slinked through the real world before.

            The Conversation is, at heart, a character piece, and it nails its portrait of a lonely, self-isolated man.  Even if his paranoia isn’t the most relatable in today’s world, Harry is a character that’s sure to ingrain himself into your brain even as he desperately tries to slide on through.

Other Notes

Ø  There’s some moments at the end that go a bit too big for my taste.

Ø  I liked how they used the repetition of the conversation to show Harry’s deep-seeded interest in the people he observes.

Ø  What was with that translucent coat?

The Age of Adaline

Released:  April 24^th, 2015

Rated:  PG-13

Distributor:  Lionsgate

Starring:  Blake Lively, Michiel Huisman, Kathy Baker, Amanda Crew, Harrison Ford, Ellen Burstyn

Directed by:  Lee Toland Krieger

Written by:  J. Mills Goodloe, Salvador Paskowitz

Personal Bias Alert:  dislikes modern romances, likes Blake Lively

7 of 10

            The Age of Adaline feels as out of time as its protagonist, living in some starry-eyed past where love blossoms instead of lust, although such a time probably never actually existed.  Still, it’s nice to imagine such a place, and if the movies can’t provide us a gentle realm where romance slowly pushes open doors held shut by fear, then what medium can?

            Blake Lively stars as the tentative Adaline, who many years ago died in a car crash and was brought back to life in such a specific way that the process of aging was scientifically stopped.  This movie really goes out of its way to invent a scientific basis for this magical occurance, which is both entirely unnecessary and contrary to the vibe of the rest of the film, but luckily, this takes up only brief moments in an otherwise well-formed movie.  Lively turns out to be a perfect fit for the role, giving Adaline the feel of someone calm, wise, and weary.  Her long past and seemingly endless future brings her little joy, as she’s learned that happiness and attachment only leads to loss and grief.

            Lively turns in a lovely performance, but sadly, the screenplay lets her down.  The quandaries and troubles she keeps lingering behind Adaline’s eyes are never fully explored, leaving The Age of Adaline feeling like a shell of the great movie it could’ve been.  Instead, it is content to stay within the confines of a basic romance, complete with meet-cutes, halted responses, and dramatic exits.  With the exception of the fantasy twist, it’s a story you’ve seen played out a million times (and with less on-the-nose dialogue).

            But there is that element of fantasy, a feeling of tall tale otherworldliness that director Lee Toland Krieger plays up to just the right pitch.  The closest comparison is probably to 2003’s Big Fish, the whimsical Tim Burton movie that covered much of the director’s signature wackiness with a bared, decent heart.  The Age of Adaline shares this decency, and it invites its audience to spend some time in a place that’s a little less complex and much more forgiving than the real world.  Both films feel like folklore, like entertaining and endearing stories passed down through the generations to teach us some very basic lesson.  Obviously, neither are based off of old stories, but that doesn’t make their points any less valid.

            In keeping with the otherworldly feel, cinematographer David Lanzenberg captures the goings-on with a delicate, lingering touch.  Many shots hold for a moment longer than it needs, evoking the expanse of time that Adaline has experienced without being pushy, but the camera’s true heart lies with Adaline herself.  There’s a reverence about the way she’s filmed, often bathed in light and slightly removed from the other characters.  Part of this is due to the character’s own reserved nature, but much has to do with the way Lanzenberg and Krieger chose to capture their heroine.  They wanted her to inspire a certain awe, to be slightly larger than life.  Their vision and Lively’s portrait coalesce into just the right amount of deferential sadness, making Adaline a compelling match to the film’s storybook feel.

            The Age of Adaline is the kind of film that can get away with large flaws if you get sucked into its gentle embrace.  It’s not trying to be the smartest or the flashiest, but it can reassure you that the difficulties life throws at you are worth facing and that there might just be a happy ending.

Other Notes:

Ø  The narration is done by the same man who performed these duties in a personal favorite of mine:  The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford.

Ø  Lively does have quite a timeless look to her.

Ø  This is dividing critics and audiences (51% on Metacritic to 7.5 on IMDB) in a very similar way to Big Fish (58% on Metacritic to 8 on IMDB).

Skyfall

Released:  November 9^th, 2012

Rated:  PG-13

Distributor:  Columbia Pictures

Starring:  Daniel Craig, Javier Bardem, Ralph Fiennes, Naomie Harris, Albert Finney, Judi Dench

Directed by:  Sam Mendes

Written by:  Neal Purvis, Robert Wade, John Logan

Personal Bias Alert:  not a Bond fan, likes the upgraded team

8 of 10

            Let’s face it, most of what I know about James Bond comes from playing Goldeneye on Nintendo 64.  If you were around during that time, then you know that it was the game, especially multiplayer, and my time commitment and domination of it knew no bounds.  That didn’t give me much knowledge about Bond, mostly that the Golden Gun is cool for some unknown reason and, in the least-spoilery spoiler of all time, Sean Bean dies at the end.  None of this prepped me at all for Skyfall, which vaguely delves into Bond’s backstory when it’s not too busy with chase sequences, beautiful women, and explosions.

            This is a Bond film, so you have to excuse its aforementioned tropes and fan-foddering as part of the charm.  But Skyfall is a notable turn towards respectability for the series, picking up Oscar-winning director Sam Mendes, Gladiator, The Aviator, and Hugo writer John Logan, and cinematographer god Roger Deakins.  The hope was that a top-notch team could turn the series around after the disappointment of Quantum of Solace, and boy did they pull off a hard turn in the right direction.  Skyfall is long, yes, but it’s expertly scripted, with layers of plot peeling off in one long, continuous reveal.  Even as someone who’s not a big fan of spy movies, this one had me happily rolling along with it, and the few times that something did go wrong, well, it moved on before I got too bothered.

            This is Daniel Craig’s third outing as Bond, James Bond, and he delivers the sturdy sternness that he’s known for.  His Bond isn’t much fun nor does his sex appeal work for me, but he’s far from a failure in the role.  The cast of characters around him are made up of other dependable performers like Judy Dench, Ben Wishaw, Javier Bardem, Ralph Fiennes, Albert Finney, and Naomie Harris.  All waltz into their scenes and play off the uptight Craig well, with Harris and Wishaw bringing a bit of bounce to their scenes.  Bardem as a flamboyant and distinctive villain (as expected in a Bond film) clearly had a grand old time with his part, and that energy is a bit infectious.  The problem is, he’s oddly not all that menacing.  He’s supposedly a cyber-wiz and physical threat, but he comes off a bit too cartoony in comparison to the rest of the dour proceedings to be taken very seriously.

            If anyone’s work is unblemished here, it’s Roger Deakins.  It’s nothing new to sing this guy’s praises, but that’s because his films are so damn beautiful.  The scale of his shots, from the flickering light of a burning building illuminating Bardem’s determined walk to a line of caskets so straight that the flags pulled taught over them seem to form a red line down the middle of the room, makes his immaculate work a constant joy to behold.  There’s even a clarity and energy to his action shots that is superior to what others are doing in this genre.  I’m not sure Bond did anything to deserve Deakins, but as Shad said, you never question when you get the blessings.

            The top-notch team who put Skyfall together delivered a beautiful, well-paced film, but it’s still Bond at its core.  The action sequences are the punctuation marks and the casual womanizing and alcoholism are the conjunctions stringing it all together.  Even if, like me, you don’t go for this Bond charm, Skyfall is still worth checking out.  In between these ludicirous staples is a well-worn but timeless story that’s fitting for a character who refuses to leave the pop culture stage long after his contemporaries have bowed out.

Other Notes:

Ø  While never boring, there was an awful lot of setup for a fairly basic story.

Ø  I like that they didn’t even bother to explain how Bond survived the opening fight.

Ø  That title sequence was awesome.

Unfriended

Released:  April 17^th, 2015

Rated:  R

Distributor:  Universal Pictures

Starring:  Shelly Hennig, Renee Olstead, Courtney Halverson, Jacob Wysocki, Will Peltz, Moses Jacob Storm

Directed by:  Levan Gabriadze

Written by:  Nelson Greaves

Personal Bias Alert:  went in with low expectations, not a fan of social media

6 of 10

            Gimmick horror films are one of the most derided genres.  Unfriended certainly falls into that category, as the entire film is shot like you’re watching the main character’s computer screen.  Endless programs are flipped between, but Skype is the main landing point, with Facebook also a significant player.  Admittedly, even I thought this sounded awful, so when it quickly turned into a real movie, complete with well thought out framing, themes, and a solid relationship at its core, I was as surprised as everyone else.

            Kicking things off with the suicide video of teenager Laura Barns (Heather Sossaman) and a sexually playful chat between main couple Blaire (Shelly Hennig) and Mitch (Moses Jacob Storm), Unfriended subtly reassures audiences that, despite its inventive setup, it still delivers traditional horror beats.  The combo of violence and sex right at the beginning, a horror convention so expected that it’s often played with a wink and a nod to the audience, is skillfully conducted here.  The mouse hovers over the suicide video before hitting play, a technique that not only builds tension (only in our grimmest moods do we watch death videos) but also gives a look into Blaire’s conflicted mind.  We know throughout the rest of the film that Blaire has these images rattling around in her brain, even when she’s teasing Mitch or curtailing a petty fight between her friends.  This isn’t the sort of thing you easily let go.

            Our online habits in general are what’s in question here, and Unfriended has many subtle and not-so-subtle nods to these questions.  Perhaps its biggest strength is how encompassing its message is.  It avoids simple indictments of particularly nasty habits like trolling or thoughtless comments, instead choosing to examine the entirety of our online presence as a potentially timeless record of ourselves.  Your Facebook page and the myriad of postings you make online will long outlive you, and do you really want your ancestors to see how bitchy you were as a teenager?

            However commendable Unfriended’s message is, it’s still primarily a horror film, and it’s these elements that fall flat.  There is tension, but all of it derives from Blaire and her friend’s interactions after someone shows up and torments them using Laura’s old accounts.  Whether or not it’s actually Laura haunting them never becomes very interesting or scary.  The big horror moments where something attacks the characters are so obviously shaky, low-budget tricks that it all looks incredibly fake.  The fact that the attacks aren’t even original or particularly scary makes it even worse, showing the writer and director’s shortcomings on knowing how to actually scare people.  It’s not the gruesome moments that freak us out; it’s how quickly these ‘friends’ turn on each other.

            Setting the bar so low may skew this film’s ratings a bit higher than it deserves.  This is a film that selected an incredibly restrictive setup and executed it about as well as one can, but it’s held back by that premise and lacking of real horror.  It’s the surprisingly clear message and solid acting makes Unfriended a delightful surprise.

Other Notes:

Ø  It’s very smart how they directed the eye with Blaire’s cursor.

Ø  So I actually laughed at how bad one of the attacks looked, and it’s one they put in the trailer.

Ø  I like that the guy who was supposed to be drunk was drinking wine, like he’s such a sophisticated teenage alcoholic.

Monsters

Released:  September 24^th, 2010

Rated:  R

Distributor:  Magnet Releasing

Starring:  Scoot McNairy, Whitney Able

Directed by:  Gareth Edwards

Written by:  Gareth Edwards

Personal Bias Alert:  went in with high expectations, knew there weren’t many monsters

7.3 of 10

            Perfection in movies is overrated.  A filmmaker can spend an inordinate amount of time and money trying to achieve a clean script, a stellar cast, and a flawless production, but the final product would inevitably be flawed.  It’s much more important (and much cheaper) to shoot for a film that is inviting, to make your audience feel like they’re snuggling into heavy blankets on a cold day and allow them to snuggle in deeper.  Mistakes can be forgotten, but that warm feeling a good movie engenders stays with you.  It’s difficult to find a more flawed, cozy film than Monsters, and I’m excited to add it to the lineup of films I return to year after year.

            Set few years after aliens crash-landed on Earth, photographer Andrew (Scoot McNairy) must escort his boss’s daughter Sam (Whitney Able) through alien-infested Mexico.  Why Sam is in Mexico in the first place is never made clear, but she speaks Spanish well and seems to be avoiding her impending marriage.  Her reluctance to return home is exceeded by Andrew’s annoyance at being drug away from the lucrative alien action.  Of course, the trip doesn’t go as planned, so Andrew and Sam get more action than either really want.

            Monsters is very much a two-hander, with Andrew and Sam being the only major characters in the film.  There’s a forced romance underlying their relationship that never quite feels natural, but they do have a great, non-sexual sort of chemistry that makes the film seem warm.  McNairy is the better actor, somehow managing to make Andrew’s stereotypical persona as a hardened opportunist seem lived in.  Able lacks the ability to overcome her rough characterization, but she does give Sam the vibe of a decent person, and there’s just something cute about the way she smiles at McNairy’s bemused smirk.  The charm of this film is that I would be happy watching these two do most anything.  That there’s aliens lurking in the background is just icing on the cake.

             I say the aliens are lurking because, despite its title, we don’t actually see too much of them.  This has led to some disappointment and accusations of false advertising, but there’s an argument to be made that the aliens aren’t the monsters that the title is referring to (otherwise it would be called Aliens, right?).  Instead, it might be the myriad of people who’ve taken advantage of the situation and caused Andrew and Sam harm, along with the people who are trying to help but only make the situation worse.  It’s a bit hard to glean a clear point from this movie, as the writing is lose and half-baked.  In fact, the script was more of an outline, with scenes and dialogue adlibbed as the tiny crew road tripped through Mexico and Texas.  The story itself is still clear, but deeper meaning and clean lines seem to have gotten thrown out the window at some point during the trip.

            That Gareth Edwards, who served as the cinematographer, production designer, and visual effects artist, along with writing and directing the whole shebang, was able to pull a film together in such a way is impressive.  The logistics of such a shoot were certainly daunting, especially considering their budget of less than $500,000, so the high quality of the cinematography (which varies from shaky-cam action to wistful holds) shows that Edwards is someone who instinctively understands how to present a movie.  How he pulled of what shots we do get of the aliens left me flabbergasted, as they look about as good as anything you’ll see in big-budget movies.

            The shooting style and budget inevitably led to some constraints that show in the final product, but Edwards and McNairy are talented enough to overcome them, giving this world an unusually warm, heartfelt little monster movie.

Other Notes: 

Ø  You know your guy’s not a hero when he rides on the back of a motorcycle.

Ø  Why does no one answer the phone in this movie?

Ø  What a climax! (pun intended)

The Longest Ride

Released:  April 10^th, 2015

Rated:  PG-13

Distributor:  20^th Century Fox

Starring:  Britt Robertson, Scott Eastwood, Jack Huston, Oona Chaplin, Alan Alda

Directed by:  George Tillman Jr.

Written by:  Craig Bolotin

Personal Bias Alert:  not a romance fan, immediately suspicious of anything Nicholas Sparks

4.5 of 10

            Can a name be a genre?  If any can, it’s Nicholas Sparks.  Even the casual moviegoer knows what they’re in for when that name flashes across the screen.  Star-crossed lovers, soft lighting, attractive leads.  They’re fairy-tale romances, the kind where love conquers cancer, dementia, and AIDS (okay, not the last one).  Emotions are encouraged, and there’s a box by the door where your brains should be left behind.  Needless to say, some people love his films and some hate them.  Some, like myself, grew up in a generation where there was always a girl squealing about how many times they’d watched A Walk to Remember or were dragged to The Notebook only to come out ragging about how unrealistic its portrait of dementia was.  That last one’s a true story from my life, so if you’re wondering where I come down on the Sparks spectrum, I firmly hate them.  But even the most begrudging viewer must admit that the Sparks films have hit on a pleasure center that exists in a fair number of people.  There is definitely a clamoring for these stories, and The Longest Ride is an inoffensive way to satisfy the need.

            In this, the tenth Sparks adaptation, the romantic leads are a bull rider and an art student, two people from different worlds whose lives cross for a brief, earth-shattering two months.  Yep, this film supposedly takes place over two months, a period of time that seems impossibly short given how many connections, dramatic turns, and feelings are crammed in.  In fact, there’s a B-plot involving an older man recounting his own marriage that’s nearly as time-consuming and jam-packed as the main storyline.  Yet for all this plot, none of it goes very deep.  Like most Sparks movies, the complications drift around behind the romance, only existing to complicate love instead of giving the characters any real sense of self.  But this is clearly something that the people want, so a reviewer can only shrug their shoulders, dock off a point, and move on, being careful not to dismiss the whole thing simply for being a lightweight.

            The main trio of the bull rider, art student, and dying man, are played by Scott Eastman, Britt Robertson, and Alan Alda, respectively.  Alda, obviously, needs no introductions or assurances that he can handle this material.  Eastman and Robertson were the wildcards going in, each with a decent amount of experience but no roles they can really hang their hat on.  Given their much larger roles on the horizon, The Longest Ride will likely be their forgotten introduction to wider audiences, but it’s still a charming turn for both of them.  They have solid chemistry, perform their modest roles with heartfelt familiarity, and succeed in making this innocuous love story fairly effective.  Compared to Alda’s remembered romance, theirs is downright grounded, and the ease with which Eastman and Robertson sell their romance is almost entirely to thank for it.

            The flashbacks with Alda, which takes place through letter reading (gag me), is the far more saccharine love story, and its combination of too-tall tales of war and dreadful dialogue sinks the whole section before it ever has a chance.  Alda and the actors who portray the young couple are fine.  It’s simply an overwrought story that feels rather unnecessary, and at nearly two and a half hours long, The Longest Ride suffers under the weight of this extra plot.

            And yet, these extra flourishes fit perfectly into the Sparks formula.  The problems keep coming for both couples until the release of tension becomes a necessity.  The emotions these moments engender are as cheap as the jump scares in a churned-out horror flick, but the formula is so smoothly presented here that it all slides by without much offense.  The only remarkable thing about The Longest Ride is its utter blandness, but at least its laziness won’t piss you off.

Other Notes:

Ø  The dialogue is so trite that there were numerous times my brain called word-for-word what the next line would be.  I refrained from saying them out loud only out of respect for my fellow moviegoers.

Ø  Speaking of my fellow moviegoers, I didn’t hear any crying, but people seemed pleased when they left.

Ø  You’d think the cowboy hat would make Eastman look more like his father, Clint, but it was a moment without the hat, when Scott scrunched his face into a scowl, that he most resembled his father.

Funny Games

Released:  March 11^th, 1998

Rated:  Unrated

Distributor:  Attitude Films

Starring:  Susanne Lothar, Ulrich Mühe, Arno Frisch, Frank Giering, Stefan Clapczynski

Directed by:  Michael Haneke

Written by:  Michael Haneke

Personal Bias Alert:  vaguely knew the plot going in, aware of Haneke’s reputation for difficult films

7.2 of 10

            A film comes along every year or so that questions the amount of violence in movies.  The money flow indicates that audiences may have too healthy an appetite for bloodlust, to the point that we could reasonably be seen as the grossly overweight humans from Wall-E covered in blood splatter.  The question of why, and the more fraught question of why we enjoy it, shouldn’t be ignored, no matter how uncomfortable they make you feel.  A single film probably can’t cover all the answers, but few make you look as long or as hard at your own answers as Michael Haneke’s Funny Games.

            Haneke chose a tried and true formula for making his audience uncomfortable:  make it over-the-top and make it real.  Our desensitization is to cartoon violence, the kind where someone can get bloodlessly pummeled but still stand back up for another round.  Funny Games makes each blow count, and the progressively pained, haggard appearance of the well-to-do family being tortured is startling.  The punch of any film that pushes the boundaries like this will inevitably soften over time as others push it further (in this case Lars von Trier and Gaspar Noé come to mind), but the looks on the parent’s faces, particularly on the wife played by Susanne Lothar, remains unnerving.  If Haneke was trying to make his audience uncomfortable, then he certainly succeeded, and the film has enough bite to keep people squirming for decades to come.

            The tortured family is straight out of idyllic 1950s America:  a mom, a dad, a son, and a dog.  An ill-fated trip to the family lake house is their undoing, as they come across a pair of young men who slip inside and force them to play a series of sadistic ‘games.’  They’re more interested in playing with the family that straight-up murdering them, hence the title, and the cold calculation of their moves makes for a tense thriller.  The complication is that one of the boys, Paul (Arno Frisch), periodically addresses the audience to shock us out of the pleasurably familiar genre flow.  These conspiratorial winks and nods are what force you to take a step back and wonder why the hell you’re enjoying yourself.  The family are clearly the victims, but you’re experiencing the film in the same way that the boys are experiencing it:  perched on a couch with the smugness of someone who chose to be present.  What does that say about our knee-jerk conclusions about the boys, ourselves, and our notions of evil? 

            There are other ways that Haneke toys with our experience, but not all work as well.  An overlong scene in the back half of the movie grinds the tension to a halt and doesn’t add much (perhaps, as Paul later remarks, it was just to get to a feature-length runtime).  The music choices, though, were the biggest drawback.  They are jarring in a completely unnecessary way, jerking you out of the flow of the film far too quickly.  There’s already plenty of reminders that we’re watching a movie, but most operate in a quiet, clean way that encourages contemplation, while the wrenching of the music engenders nothing but a feeling of nervous fear.

            Still, you get the sense that every tiny move Haneke made was purposeful, and most of them work towards his main point.  The boys, who are both in the awkward stage just before manhood, are the precise demographic that Hollywood targets for its most violent films.  And yet, the violence occurs almost exclusively off screen, with the boys’ games and their stagings so neatly laid out that you sense the crux of Haneke’s point lying somewhere behind that map.  The point you come up with will undoubtedly be different than my own, but what’s clear is that Haneke went into Funny Games with a purpose that was relentlessly executed.

Other Notes:

Ø  The true climax of the film is one last nod to the audience, a final reminder that we chose to sit through these events when we could’ve left at any time.

Ø  What is up with the cast dying?  Three of the main actors are now dead, aged 54, 51, and 38.

Ø  This original version is in German.  Haneke made a shot-for-shot remake in English in 2007, which I haven’t seen.

Furious 7

Released:  April 3^rd, 2015

Rated:  PG-13

Distributor:  Universal Pictures

Starring:  Vin Diesel, Paul Walker, Dwayne Johnson, Michelle Rodriguez, Jordana Brewster, Tyrese Gibson, Chris “Ludacris” Bridges, Kurt Russell, Jason Statham

Directed by:  James Wan

Written by:  Chris Morgan

Personal Bias Alert:  never seen any Fast & Furious movies, intrigued by James Wan directing

3 of 10

            Nothing in Furious 7 is subtle; the cars are fast, the butts are in your face, and the ‘character beats’ hit you like a sledgehammer.  Obviously, this film’s production was difficult given the death of star Paul Walker mid-shooting, and the last thing I wanted to do was badmouth him or this film.  No matter what kind of films he made or how he died, Walker was a person, and the life of a person demands respect.  That sentiment and the cast and crew’s personal loss colors this film, but it’s still a movie, and I still didn’t like it, as much as I cringe even writing that.

            Preceding all this, many people’s curiosity was piqued when James Wan, a horror auteur known for Saw, Insidious, and The Conjuring, was selected as the next director for the series.  An action film about a street racing crew seemed out of his wheelhouse, and while horror gives its directors plenty of opportunity for lavish style, the Fast & Furious films are lavish in an entirely different way.  They are essentially a string of action set pieces, the bigger the better, held loosely together by a faint plot.  Wan certainly understood the formula, as Furious 7 is chock full of ridiculously staged action that knows to focus more on making things look cool than having it make any sense.  One of the biggest sequences, which featured prominently in the trailers, is a scene where cars and drivers were dropped from a plane.  It is insane in every way; it could never happen in a world where physics exists, but it still gets your heart pounding.  Wan captured this and every other action sequence with well-staged shots and quick cuts, barraging audiences with thrilling images that pass by in such rapid succession that they rarely make sense or add up to any clear idea of what the hell is going on.  These thrills are quick and cheap (in the sense that they’re meaningless, not that they don’t cost a hell of a lot of money).  However, this is the same effect you would get from watching well-funded clips in quick succession.  It is not a movie.

            The loose plot that holds these sequences together involves the murderous revenge by the brother of a man the crew took down in a previous film.  The crew, led by Vin Diesel’s Dominic Toretto, bands together in a kill-or-be-killed situation that turns into one of the most cleanly convoluted plots I’ve seen in years.  It’s clean only because the characters explain in painfully repetitive exposition what the next step in the process is.  The process itself doesn’t make a lick of sense, which, admittedly, didn’t seem to be a goal of Furious 7.  It was much more genuine about its subplot surrounding Paul Walker’s Brian O’Conner struggling to settle into family life, juxtaposing that with how easily he operates in the impromptu family of the crew.  As Furious 7 is the opposite of subtle, they ram this down your throat by constantly referring to each other as family and having everyone talk about Brian’s conundrum.  It’s clunky because it was certainly added in after Walker’s death, but it’s mostly heartfelt, especially when it’s coming from Diesel’s mouth.

            Thankfully, Walker turned in a fine performance.  He sold the outrageous action well, as did most of the cast, and they looked good standing next to cars.  Little more was asked of them, and the few scenes that do contain human dialogue was rushed through so quickly that poor performances were hardly worth noting.

            Simply put, this movie is not for me.  I don’t care about cars or muscles or derrieres.  I’m bored by mindless action and momentary thrills, and most of all, I hate wooden characters, the ones that masquerade as people when their entire persona and relationships can be summed up in a single phrase (which one character actually does).  None of these things are charming to me, nor does it pass for mindless entertainment, which is what many people praise these films for being the epitome of.  Furious 7’s chosen idiocy actively offends even the most basic parts of my brain, and that just isn’t fun to me.

Other Notes

Ø  The title on the movie poster is Furious 7.  The title card on the movie is Furious Seven.  Did no one discuss how the title was going to be written?

Ø  This is the kind of movie where a character says they’re going to Dubai, then it cuts to them in Dubai, and there’s still text at the bottom of the screen indicating that it’s Dubai.  You know, in case you forgot what the character said five seconds ago.

Ø  I feel like crap writing this.  RIP Paul Walker

Mystic River

Released:  October 15^th, 2003

Rated:  R

Distributor:  Warner Bros.

Starring:  Sean Penn, Tim Robbins, Kevin Bacon, Laurence Fishburne, Marcia Gay Harden, Laura Linney

Directed by:  Clint Eastwood

Written by:  Brian Helgeland

Personal Bias Alert:  likes Clint Eastwood movies, likes slow, moody dramas

8.5 of 10

            Mystic River is one of those films that’s about many things, none of which are hidden but are too painful to look directly at.  Instead, it flits about from the main storyline to the subtext to the characters, orbiting around the same bleak idea that does more to make the film dark than its muted lighting or pedantic pace.  A quick movie it is not, nor does it want to be one.  It wants you to feel the weight of every event, to understand the context, and to know the ramifications without ever having to see them.  This fictional slice of Boston is as well-built as George R.R. Martin’s Westeros or Tolkien’s Middle Earth, and the drama that plays out there is as grand in scale as either of those epics.

            Sean Penn anchors the film as Jimmy Markum, a former bad boy who’s settled into a life of respected domesticity.  When his daughter turns up murdered, the neighborhood knows what will be unearthed in Jimmy, and no one dares to stand in his way.  Tim Robbins and Kevin Bacon also star as Jimmy’s childhood friends, Dave and Sean.  The three boys were together when Dave was picked up by two men who abused him for several days, an incident that none of them were ever able to shake.

            A large portion of the film follows Sean, who’s now a cop, as he and his partner investigate the murder of Jimmy’s daughter.  The whodunit forms the backbone of the story from a structural standpoint, but it’s the least interesting portion of the film, at times drawing too much focus away from the three men.  Every story needs a structure, but the best come up with something that ties in firmly with the themes that run through it.  Mystic River is a bit too loose for such a neat bow, and at times the procedural aspect seems just as rote as the cop shows you find playing endlessly on cable television.

            What’s truly captivating is Jimmy and Dave, who’ve remained friendly over the years and are brought closer by the murder.  They both bear scars, to differing extents, from the incident when they were boys, but neither are healed enough to talk about it.  Penn plays Jimmy like a loaded gun that’s half-cocked, daring people not to take him seriously but reticent to go off.  Dave is an unraveling mess, with Robbins portraying his fear and vulnerability without ever making him seem weak.  You figure out pretty quickly where their relationship is heading, and the tragedy of that ending isn’t lost on either character.  Both Penn and Robbins won well-deserved Oscars for their performances, and it’s hard to pinpoint a time when either men were better throughout their remarkable careers.

            The whole enterprise is headed by director Clint Eastwood, whose films often harken back to an older style of cinema where the story is allowed to breathe and the film is wrapped up with a cumulative, downbeat scene.  His stylistic tools are all here, including his beautiful use of shadow, and as elegant as the film looks, it never escapes the feeling that something is missing.  This is perhaps a product of hindsight, as his nearly flawless and tonally similar film Million Dollar Baby came out only one year after Mystic River.  The similarities between the two films make them feel like a pair, with Mystic River as the electrifying build to Million Dollar Baby’s crescendo.  It seems that Clint learned much from Mystic River’s small missteps, and if its place will forever be in the shadow of Million Dollar Baby, well, that’s a pretty excellent shadow to be in.

Other Notes:

Ø  This is my favorite Sean Penn performance.

Ø  Why does everyone think Tim Robbins killed someone?

Ø  Are the three guys really supposed to be in their mid-30s?  Because they all look mid-to-late 40s.