PSA: Dark City (1998), or Let’s Start Over Again

A big shout out to Alex for requesting this movie! Your name is now immortalized in my writings! In 60 years time, you’ll be able to print this very review out on a FUTURE! printer and send it into a literary authority for pricing. He or she will soundly laugh in your face and send you on your way, but at least it will get you out and about in your old age!

Okay, let me make this one quick because I have some sleeping to catch up on from a weekend where I saw too many movies. Let’s turn the clocks back a few years, shall we? Long before the movie known as Knowing totally burned down my trust bridge between me and director Alex Proyas. Let’s turn it all the way back to 1998, where techno was getting darker and angsty, the Matrix was brewing in the Wachowski Brothers’ brain stems, and we were living with a President who liked blowjobs on the down-low of the extra-marital kind. Back then, if you had told me a movie like Dark City was possible, I would have mightily doubted you. But assuaging doubts was something Proyas was good at back then, and I would have been put to shame once I saw one of the most cerebral films of the decade. It is a mind-bending sci-fi film that breaks barriers and takes more risks than I ever would have dared to as a filmmaker.

A big part of it is the story, written by Proyas himself. It is crafted so well, to the point that I am surprised that it is not based on a novel. It has all the makings of a great mystery, in the tradition of Raymond Chandler. Involving things as common as amnesia with things as unbelievably complex as the nature of time and the destiny of man as a species, we are taken from the noir to the nouveau and into the world of the extraterrestrial as Proyas weaves his tale of mystery and whispered truths into our minds with his cerebral, gut-punching cinematography and his intense special effects. The magic of Dark City is not the answers to these troubling questions, but how we arrive at the point of discovery.

The characters walk through half-remembered states of routine, living in a haze that seems almost manufactured. It seems like the world has always been that way, but nobody really knows for sure. The truth of their existence is more disturbing than they could imagine, but it’s always just out of their reach. Rufus Sewell plays an amazing amnesiac as the lead character Murdoch. He is really quite amazing here, pulling off what might be one of my favorite performances of his career. He’s fully committed in every way, and it’s his zest for discovery that makes the movie so fun to watch. Also intriguing is Kiefer Sutherland as the Doctor, a mysterious man seen around town in the company of strange, pale-faced men. His quirkiness is practically coming off the screen in chunks; I can’t remember seeing Sutherland so animated. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience to see him act so weird, so I suggest you relish it. William Hurt plays a detective similar to Phillip Marlowe who is in WAY over his head. He smolders with a low-voiced beat-down attitude that reminds me why I like William Hurt’s character acting so much. He adds so much to this, but you don’t ever notice it the first time, so just try to keep an eye out for him in this film. Do NOT keep an eye out for Jennifer Connelly, though, who plays Murdoch’s gal pal. She again looks helpless and weak throughout most of the film, and whether or not that was a character flaw,  it seems to me that too often I see her just ease up on any realistic emotional response and go for the Hollywood Shuffle. I think she has a lot of potential, but none of that shows up here in Dark City.

I could go on and on about this film. I really like it, and I think it’s a unique experience, even as far as Proyas’s filmography goes. But I am dog tired, so let me conclude by saying that if you were to see one sci-fi film from the 90s, I would probably make it Dark City. It’s well-crafted storytelling from start to finish, and it creates real movie magic by forcing us down this long, shadowy corridor of the mind, not allowing us to see the light until we’re all the way through. It’s amazing, and therefore I give Dark City 9 1/2 jittery Kiefer Sutherlands out of 10! A high recommendation!

Tomorrow we go to Boston for The Departed! Until then!!!

The Night Out: Invictus (2009), or Nobody Knows Who Nelson Mandela Is?

I find it increasingly alarming that nobody around my neck of the woods knows exactly who Nelson Mandela is. I don’t have a lot of heroes in my life, and over the years I become more and more suspicious of anyone who claims to do something for the greater good. But Nelson Mandela has always been a personal icon for international peace, equality, and, most importantly, forgiveness. His story is harrowing and meaningful, and an important one for us to learn and never forget. But it’s a story that is already fading from people’s hearts and minds, and I hope that today’s film, a spry little sports movie named Invictus brings his inspiring tale to new ears, and reminds everyone that not very long ago, people were still separated in society based on the color of their skin.

It is the story of the 1995 Rugby World Cup, the year South Africa hosted it. But it is simultaneously about the life of Nelson Mandela, specifically from his inauguration in 1994 to the Rugby World Cup. When he first takes office, Mandela is swamped from the start with issues that require his immediate attention. Although apartheid is over, South Africa is not yet united, and that seems to be his first great hurdle, to unite the once-oppressive minority whites with the majority of black South Africans. While watching the national rugby team, the South African Springboks, Mandela decides that the way to unite the races is to ensure that the team goes to the World Cup Finals and wins. Considering that they’re a bunch of losers when the film starts, it seems like a daunting task, but Mandela has an idea of how to inspire them to victory. With a tough set of matches ahead of them, can the Springboks pull it together and come from dead last to make it to the Finals? Can Mandela unite a country torn apart by racial tensions? Can anybody tell me what a Springbok is?

Clint Eastwood takes a break from directing taut, heart-breaking dramas to make what might be the most inspiring movie of 2009. It just makes you feel GOOD. I just wanted to erase the racial tensions of my own country after I left the theater, but it’s always a little more difficult in America, you know. It’s a positively uplifting story about the power of one man to forgive and how that can affect a country, and how something as simple as rugby can bring people together from all walks of life. I detest sports, and even I was invested in this plucky underdog story. Eastwood touches on a lot of issues here, and through Mandela we travel across all walks of life to discover the sometimes startling fact that we’re really not all that different.

The production is middling but pleasant. All music in Invictus is surprisingly bland. The more I heard of it, the less I wanted there to be a soundtrack at all. There is hardly any good African music, which happens to be a soft spot for me, and a lot of the songs featured are message songs about peace that only serve to pile on to the peace-iness that is Nelson Mandela’s story. The direction is good, but often Eastwood sticks with a shot and goes with it for too long. I liked his more dynamic work in Flags of Our Fathers and Million Dollar Baby, where he was willing to take more risks with his camera. His straight-forward approach is not bad, by any means, but for an energetic rugby movie, I was not really all that jazzed, even during the sporting scenes.

I cannot stress enough how long I have wanted Nelson Mandela to be portrayed on the screen by Morgan Freeman. He looks and speaks just like the man, and while Freeman is slightly more daunting in stature, they seem perfect for each other in a cinematic sense. And while I was hoping Freeman would do a straight biopic of him, I will take this over nothing. This was Freeman’s role of a lifetime, and he nailed it! Every line was dripping with cultural and historical importance, and I doubt even Morgan Freeman knows how powerful his performance was. Matt Damon exceeds expectations as the captain of the rugby team, Francois Pienaar. He is a little bland, and rather off-putting at first with his prudish Afrikaner family, still does his best and succeeds in hitting some good emotional notes. He is not really that interesting, honestly, but you cannot really fault Damon for this; it seems to be a situation that the character, intrinsically, has not so many interesting things about him, so he just has to work with what he has, and for that I say kudos. A standout minor player is Tony Kgoroge, who plays Mandela’s head bodyguard. As the head of security, he is constantly plastered with a worrisome look on his face and a 24 hour grimace. He is on hgh alert as an actor, and I appreciated how natural he was at it. I look forward to seeing more from this young actor.

Invictus is something special to me because of its content, but on its own merits, it’s merely good. Greatness might have been achieved a great many other ways, by making it more about Mandela’s life and times, perhaps spending a bit more thought on the production, or having more exciting rugby scenes, but it’s far from mediocre. With excellent performances by everyone involved, a very inspiring and uplifting script, and a delightful appearance by the New Zealand All Blacks as the villains at the end, it does a good job for what it is. Anyone not very knowledgeable on Nelson Mandela, though, should watch this and learn a little something about one of the world’s finest living individuals. I give Invictus 8 Morgan Mandelas out of 10. Check it out!

Tomorrow I watch Dark City! Until then!

Blood Diamond (2006), or Zwick On Atrocities

Director Edward Zwick has taken on many of the pains and triumphs of war in his career. He has covered a number of important battles that have sprung up in our more recent history, and he has certainly has an eye for the vicissitudes of war. In Glory, he bravely covered the Civil War and the trials of the black soldiers fighting in the Union. In Legends of the Fall, he focused on the endurance of family in times of war. Courage Under Fire exposed the Gulf War conflict and the role of women in modern fighting forces. The Last Samurai deals with the American involvement in the Meiji Restoration of the late 1800s in Japan, and one man’s fight against the end of an era and the end of a people. Today’s film, Blood Diamond, is about the most sinister of conflicts occurring in the world today; the war zone that is Northern Africa. So many countries in turmoil and civil unrest, atrocities happening at every turn, and nobody seems to want to intervene. Blood Diamond deals specifically with the exploitation of the Africans during the Sierra Leone Civil War during the late 90s. It’s a harrowing film full of great performances that I think might be Zwick’s best work to date.

Blood Diamond stars Djimon Hounsou as Solomon, a fisherman whose family is taken from him by forces of the Revolutionary United Front, one of many opposing guerrilla military groups rooted in the region of Sierra Leone. His son is taken away to be trained and brainwashed as a member of the group, and he is taken to the diamond mines to dig until he drops. Under the strict leadership of a warlord named Captain Poison, he works day in and day out, ripping the diamonds from the earth. One day, he finds a mysteriously large pink diamond that he keeps and hides for himself. But moments later, there is an attack on the mine by the forces of the ruling government and both he and Captain Poison are taken to a prison. While in jail, he strikes a deal with a Rhodesian mercenary named Archer to help him find his family in exchange for the diamond he found. Archer is a greedy slimeball, and he has his own seedy agenda, but after they’re released from prison and they start looking for Solomon’s family, he undergoes a transformation of sorts, as he begins to look through the world with a new set of eyes. With the help of Maddy Bowen, journalist and generic love interest, can Solomon and Archer make it back to his son before the brainwashing goes too far? Can Archer find peace in himself and become selfless before his greed ruins a friendship and a budding romance? Or will they all be shot to death by crazy militants anyway?

This movie, I believe, captures the dire circumstances of the people living in Sierra Leone during the Civil War. It was a terrible time that most of us, including myself, simply cannot imagine. There were families torn apart, people being brutalized and enslaved, and it is something that we really don’t discuss enough in the Western world. Zwick takes on grueling subject matter, and deals with it in the most sensitive way he can without pulling punches. He gets into the darkest recesses of the dark continent, taking us into the heart of the conflict, which is something as simple as greed. It’s not the kind of greed where a man takes from another man to feed himself and his own; this is the greed of the wealthy, the kind that drags thousands into the mire of conflict to sate. I applaud the director here for finding the hardest-hitting shots and the most evocative angles to bring out the stark reality of the African condition.

The acting is either amazing or off the mark. I swear, Djimon Hounsou, for the first time, makes me sit up and notice him as an actor. As Solomon, he finds a character he can do justice. There is so much emotion that he has to put a voice to, almost as if he were voicing the struggles of an entire generation, and he succeeds almost effortlessly. I hope he continues to make more movies like this, and I think he has it in him as long as they give him the lead (imagine HIM as the lead in Gladiator! Yeah!) DiCaprio is DiCaprio, I should not even have to say any more. He has not disappointed me in over a decade, and I consider him to be one of the best actors of his generation. He invests himself in every role, and as Archer he really branches out to play the greedy white man, which is usually a type he avoids. Michael Sheen again dazzles as a villain, this time playing a corrupt hand in a South African diamond trading company. He is much more subdued this time, opting for the calm, more reserved seat of evil rather than the more obvious, out-there evil he protrayed in New Moon. The only stick in the mud is Jennifer Connelly, who plays maddy Bowen with a wide-eyed mediocrity that can best be described as “I Got Paid $2 Million For This Feature And All They’re Getting Is This Lousy Facial Expression”. ‘Nuff said.

Blood Diamond is a great movie punctuated by powerful performances and scenes that stick with you for a long time after you’ve turned it off. A powerful score enhances this striking drama about greed in Sierra Leone, as does cinematography that does us the service of taking us right into the fray. It’s a great film in the tradition of Zwick’s other war films, and I am very glad to have watched it! Thanks goes to Jenni for recommending this, by the way! I give Blood Diamond 9 corrupt South African diamond trading companies out of 10! A high recommendation!

Tomorrow I have no idea what I shall watch! Please help me decide with RECOMMENDATIONS!

The Night Out: The Princess And The Frog (2009), or Louisiana Is The Weirdest State

I have never lived in Louisiana, but, as a lifelong neighbor, I see my fair share of Cajun zaniness occur. The people of Louisiana, especially New Orleans, emit a special aura, a social behavior that is completely unique to them. And it’s not in the way that Idahoans are unique, or the way that Virginians are unique; people from Louisiana, if they’re not well adjusted, then it’s like they’re from another world. They’re supremely loud, they often need a translator, and, depending if they lived near New Orleans or not, will go on until you cannot take it any more how cool New Orleans is. It’s always a hoot when you get one of THOSE people in a party, becuase, if you had never seen NOLA you would probably imagine it was made of candy and floats on a cloud of French perfume high above the earth. The Princess and the Frog, Disney’s first hand-drawn animated film since the mightily mediocre Home on the Range, is a return to form for the animation studio that forgot how to animate, and it takes place exclusively in the hyper-romanticized hyperbole of New Orleans that exists in the minds of writers and NOLA fetishists. It marks a new shift in priorites for the company by going back to basics, and while nothing in this painstakingly exquisite animation is basic, it is a graceful step in the right direction that I enjoyed more than I thought I would or could.

It all takes place in the shining city of NEW ORLEANS, where ponies fly on butterscotch wings, smiles are as plentiful as Homies figurines in the late 90s, and segregation is only alluded to in passing. Tiana has always had a dream of opening up her own restaurant. It has always been instilled in her byher hard-working parents that to get what you want in life, you have to work hard and try your best to get it, and that is exactly what she’s done. She works two jobs and saves up every single penny in the hopes of opening up that restaurant, and after getting an advance to make some legendary beignets for a friend’s party, she earns enough to buy the space she’s been saving up for. The party is for the arrival of a suitable princely bachelor from the Caribbean named Naveen, who is looking for a suitable Sugar Mama in the States. He finds one in Tiana’s rich friend Charlotte, but before he arrives, he is bamboozled by a Cajun voodoo man named Doctor Facilier, who tricks him into some voodoo magic that places Naveen and his aggravated British servant in his clutches. He transforms the butler and makes him look like the Prince, and he transforms the Prince into a talking frog (!) with voodoo, and seeks to use the greedy Brit as a way to get at Charlotte’s money. They keep Naveen in a jar to do more voodoo stuff on him later, but he escapes, and runs into Tiana at the party, who happens to be dressed like a princess. He frightens her, what with him being a talking frog, but he strikes a deal with her to kiss him, because, as legend has it, if you kiss a frog, he can turn into a prince. Well, she kisses him, all right, but the voodoo gets all complicated because she’s not a real princess, and she turns into a frog too!!! She is mortified, and they must flee the party in green slimy shame and disgust with each other. Together, despite their enmity towards each other, they must find a way to reverse the magic and become human again with the power of a mysterious voodoo woman named Mama Odie, who lives in the deepest part of the Bayou. They’ll find all sorts of creatures to help them upon their way, as all animals can talk to each other (duh!), but they must be wary of the voodoo man’s shadowy influence, because he will stop at nothing to retrieve the Prince for his own devices. Can Tiana and the Prince learn to like each other on this harrowing journey? Can the two become human before it’s too late? Or will they be swallowed up by the evil Bayou magic of Docter Facilier?

Whew! This is Disney the way it used to be; wholesome, pleasant, and enjoyable in healthy doses. The Princess and the Frog is not so much a return to grandeur for the studio (though it DID cost over $100 million to make!), but rather a reprisal of their recent history. The story is essentially the same as all the other Disney stories to come out of the past 30 years.Talking animals, spooky curses, and unexpected friendships are all par for the course, but it’s told in that old familiar way that Disney has apprently plum forgotten how to tell. Hand-drawn animation is special because it is something that cannot be duplicated. Computers are trying to create real life, or something very close; Disney animation is not looking for reality, but that candy-coated childlike world of imagination that just doesn’t jive well with the real world. The Princess and the Frog’s animation isn’t realistic, but it is well-done for Disney standards, it is colorful, and it immerses us into the brilliant world of bright, jazzy NOLA.

The cast is amazing. The first Disney picture to be centered around African American characters (and one Caribbean guy) is acted with voices that really sell the wondrous story. Anika Noni Rose puts a little Southern sass into her role as Tiana, the hard working girl/frog who is thrust into adventure. Her character is pretty straight-laced, nothing too complicated, but her enthusiasm and her beautiful singing voice won me over. Bruno Campos is the Caribbean prince Naveen, and while NOT African American or Caribbean, I still liked the flair he added in his voice. I especially like that he DID a voice, and not just his speaking tone. And Keith David is fucking amazing as Doctor Facilier, or, as the characters call him, the Shadow Man. His voice, with a touch of Cajun flair, is perfect for the part. David’s voice in general is just phenomenal, and any time he lends his exceptionally deep and robust voice to anything, it is a joy to experience.

It’s not all great. The standard musical numbers, written by Disney pack-mule Randy Newman, are a little weak and forgettable. And some of the humor falls a little flat, to the point where even the kids in the theater did not laugh. But, for the most part, it’s solid. It’s a good start to what will hopefully be a trend toward more hand-drawn projects in the future. The voice acting is strong, with helpful additions from voice-acting veterans Jim Cummings and John Goodman, the animation is excellent, and the characters are interesting for a change. I enjoyed The Princess and the Frog, and if this is what the future of Disney is, I have a lot more hope than I did after I saw Cars. I give it 8 1/2 Homies figurines out of 10!

Tomorrow I watch Blood Diamond! Until then!!!

Dead Ringers (1988), or My Dearest Brother…

I know I’ve probably seen too many Cronenberg movies on this website for you to care anymore, but I really could not resist this time. Dead Ringers is a force of nature, a psychological descent into the lives of two codependent twins. From the first five minutes, you are completely absorbed by the setting of it all. Cronenberg, yet again, breaks all pre-conceived notions of what reality is and throws it away, opting for something more surreal, more visceral, more subversive. And this time he even pushes the envelope against himself by pinning his hopes on an actor, rather than his own genius. Luckily, Jeremy Irons is the kind of actor you can pin a movie on (usually), and this film is the better because of it.

It follows the lives of twin gynecologists (!!!) Beverly and Elliot Mantle. They are two seriously codependent brothers who have a slightly disturbing relationship with one another. Elliot is the ambitious, fiery brother, and he has a huge appetite for women. Beverly happens to be a bit more reserved, which cramps his brother’s style a lot. The two have a good business going together, as well as a good formula to get them both laid. Elliot will get the mood going with his go-getter attitude, wooing the ladies as fast as he can to get what he wants. When he tires of them, he hands them off to twin Beverly, where the women are none the wiser. One of the women they examine as a patient though, named Claire, entices Beverly, and he finds himself in love with her. She has a rare gynecological condition, a trifurcation, that makes it nearly impossible to have children. Elliot thinks it’s all silly, and that he should move on, but Beverly genuinely likes her and wants to be with her. But when he thinks she might be cheating on him, it brings out the worst in him, and he begins to have psychotic delusions about weird genitals and evil women. Can he snap out of it before it’s too late? Or will this jealousy consume him and his secretly codependent brother?

Cronenberg makes Dead Ringers in his world of bizarre, surreal psychological world where the physical and the emotional become one, the ethereal flesh of nightmares encroaching on our living existence. This time, the setting is the glitz and materialism of the late 80s in the big city. Elliot Mantle is the poster child for excess and blatant materialism during the ME generation. The city is oppressive in its posh luxury, and we only sense it when Beverly cuts through reality and into his delusions. Cronenberg always enjoys the cleverest of shots, and it just goes to show you that the power of the auteur is nothing to scoff at. Nobody can work with this material like Cronenberg can because he wrote the damn thing and knows just what needs to be done to visualize it. Where the movie really surprises me is not the amazing phantasmagorical dream sequences, but how engaging the movie is when it is just Beverly and Elliot. It’s about as normal as this director gets, just relaying the relationship between family members who could not be more opposite, even though they’re twins.

And, damn it, Jeremy Irons scores as the dual character of Beverly and Elliot. He deserves a little double time for al the work he put in. His crass and selfish Elliot is very true to what I think a lot of people were buying into as the 80s ended, a dark and unhealthy dream of excess and endless drugs and women that is seemingly destined to vanish. Elliot’s depth is found though when we see how much he really loves his brother. Beverly is also fond of his brother, but in a much more overt, obvious way. Irons’s real achievement is making multiple layers of Beverly’s character by fleshing out his unbalanced nature. He is doomed to spill over the edge, and it seems that love will be the thing that pushes him over. Genevieve Bujold plays Beverly’s love interest, Claire. She is very mysterious at first, but I like how much she warms up to Irons. They have such a good chemistry together here! It’s a very nice performance that makes for great drama later on in the story as Beverly deteriorates.

I think Dead Ringers is a great movie with a unique sense of self that plays like a horror movie but feels like a psychological drama. Cronenberg audiences know what they want to see, so this will certainly not disappoint, and new folks to Cronenberg’s works need to know only that there is significantly less freakiness than he is famed for. I think Jeremy Irons did a top-notch job here, and he seemed to be a good candidate for Cronenberg to place his trust in, when one considers how much the twins had to carry the film and how much combined time they get. I think you’ll like it a lot, weirdness and all. I give Dead Ringers 9 twin gynecologists out of 10! A high recommendation!

Tomorrow I don’t have a clue what I’ll be watching! We shall see soon! Until then!

The Passion Of The Christ (2004), or I Dip My Pen In The Blood Of Jesus

I know you don’t want to hear a religious diatribe from me today, or probably any day for that matter, but The Passion of the Christ compels me to write about everyone’s favorite guy, Jesus! I don’t know if you were aware of this or not, but do you know how many credible sources besides the Bible cite a man named Jesus who performed miracles? That’s right, none! Other than 3 heavily contested “contemporary accounts” that were dated past his lifetime and deemed as hearsay or forgeries by any respectable historian, there is nobody in his generation that breathes a word about him. Isn’t that strange? Matthew and Luke especially claim in the Bible that everybody knew him, both far and wide, and so why is it that nobody in his time had anything to say about a man who was performing the impossible? Any other historical figure, even minor players, had some sort of corroborating evidence from contemporaries that suggests they actually existed. But the man that so many pin their entire lives to is more of a ghost to history than Keyser Söze!!!

But the enduring myth of a man named Jesus tied to a bunch of ancient mumbo-jumbo is really not the reason I find The Passion of the Christ repulsive. And I say that not as an atheist, or a secular man about town, but as a filmgoer who has no desire to see a movie involving a senseless and drawn-out beating of a man exist without purpose. It is an appalling look into Mel Gibson’s deranged, possibly sexual obsession with Christ’s final alleged pain and suffering at the hands of the Romans. Many of you have probably already seen it, and if you have, I’d like to ask you a question, because I’m a man in desperate need of an answer: what was the point to all that? This was a movie wherein a man suffers horribly before he dies, and we are left no richer for the experience. Where are we to find any sense of hope or solace as viewers in the idea that a man is terribly brutalized? Because he says that he is taking all the sins of man onto himself? Okay, so what? He still DIES!

And it is awful. One of the most caustic movies I’ve ever laid my eyes on, this is a triumph in the art of the torture porn film. Most of this 120 minute epic focuses on the painful details of Jesus’s last days, so it feels more like an Eli Roth production than anything Mel Gibson could come up with. You want obsessive floggings? BAM! 10 minutes of flogging! How about people throwing stuff at him? Painful stuff! YOU GOT IT! This is not an examination of the cruel psyche of man and the power of the mob. This is not an insightful exploration into the minds of his oppressors or his captors or his torturers. This is a close-up view of the art of violence against the innocent. It is visceral, shocking, and gratuitous, and if you ever needed a bigger slap in the face, stick around for the ending, when all 120 minutes of gore and horror is invalidated by his resurrection! Are you serious? Why not just pull back the camera and show Jerusalem inside a snow globe being shaken by an autistic kid?

As for the technical aspects, I must say that Gibson pulled out all the stops here. The films looks great, and I especially love the Aramaic language; hearing it spoken is rather hypnotic. The setting is romantic enough, but the wonderful definition and scope he gets from modern camera technology just blows most other films away. He’s not exactly the best judge of shots, though; do you like that nice sandal POV shot he employs as he walks into Jerusalem? I’m so glad I get to see every inch of Jim Caviezel’s feet as he saunters in like The Man With No Name. Speaking of Caviezel, he must be commended for his work. I call it “acting”, but it seems to be more of a ritualistic sex game with Mel Gibson caught on film. He plays coy with the camera as he is assaulted, and Gibson closes in like a lion licking his delighted lips in anticipation for an opportunity to loom closer. Maia Morgenstern plays his mother, Mary, like a real trooper. Her matronly virtue compliments the sad meekness of women in that age. I really enjoyed her, especially towards the end. Monica Bellucci is Mary Magdalene, and I honestly did not enjoy her performance too much. She just does a lot of blank, cow-eyed staring at Jesus and his plight that became somewhat of a cliche that I anticipated during her every scene. She needed more animation, and while I know that’s difficult for this time and setting, it’s an alternative to looking like you’re high during the entire Passion.

Take all of this with the knowledge that I am a total stick in the mud when it comes to religion of ANY kind. If this is your bag, you might think this is the greatest movie ever made. You would be wrong, but you might think that. There is not a lot to be gained from watching this movie, as far as the average filmgoer goes, unless you want a step-by-step on how to torture someone. It’s unnecessarily brutal, laughably maudlin, and totally counter-productive to whatever inspiring message Gibson was trying to send. In the end, I could not help but have the unshakable feeling that I was witness to one of the most beautiful pieces of pap in the history of the world. I give The Passion of the Christ 3 1/2 historically dubious Messiahs out of 10!

Tomorrow I promise to watch Dead Ringers! I promise!

I leave you all with my favorite story from the Bible, which is also my favorite tales about the vulgar display of power:

The Fig Tree Withers

¹⁸Early in the morning, as he was on his way back to the city, he was hungry. ¹⁹Seeing a fig tree by the road, he went up to it but found nothing on it except leaves. Then he said to it, “May you never bear fruit again!” Immediately the tree withered.

²⁰When the disciples saw this, they were amazed. “How did the fig tree wither so quickly?” they asked.

²¹Jesus replied, “I tell you the truth, if you have faith and do not doubt, not only can you do what was done to the fig tree, but also you can say to this mountain, ‘Go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and it will be done. ²²If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer.”

Complete. Utter. Waste. Of. Magic.

Out Of Africa (1985), or The Beauty Of Nature

Out of Africa is one of the best films I’ve seen to come out of the 1980s. It is a tour de force in acting, directing, substance, and style. I came in expecting a big Hollywood drama and came out feeling enriched and renewed. It is a mesmerizing experience to go through, and once I was finished, I felt actually very good. That is the way I should feel after watching a good drama, like I had an emotional catharsis and my head was cleared. After watching so many movies, it’s easy to become jaded, but out of Africa proved to me that no matter how many movies you watch, there’s something moving and powerful about the medium that a really good film transcends all walks of life and hits you square in the emotional causeway of your heart. Out of Africa is such a film for me.

It takes place in the beginning of the 20th century, where a woman named Karen is taken to the beautiful and unforgiving plains of Africa to start a new life with her blue-blooded husband to start a large dairy farm.The marriage is largely a sham, mostly for convenience, and things begin to tense as the dairy farm plan is scrapped and they end up trying for a coffee farm instead. And even when she thinks she might be starting to grow affections toward him, he learns that he has been unfaithful to her, shattering her fragile emotional bridge with him. He regresses into his only solace on the dark continent by hunting game, and she begins to seek emotional comfort elsewhere in the form of local big-game hunter Denys. He is caring, kind, and a handsome fellow to boot, and an affair begins between them that ignites a passion inside her heart. But can she tame his wild heart and start a meaningful relationship with him? Or is Denys too much of a free spirit to leave his carefree life behind?

Out of Africa is a very Caucasian-centric story, and I think that can be a problem for a lot of movies. I don’t want to hear about the plight of the white man in the dark continent; the African has his own story to tell, after all. But I think it can be forgiven this fact due to its sheer love of the continent and its people. Sydney Pollack obviously had a great deal of emotions about Africa in his heart, and this was a great chance to express them. He captures so well the earthy loveliness that the Serengeti provides, the plains teeming with life, the people humble and beautiful, the world staggering and humbling. Africa is really, for me, the main attraction here, because Pollack captures it so well. When the sun begins to hang low over the sweltering horizon, and the night threatens the world with its untamed ferocity, the setting is absolutely perfect for the humans to emerge from their cooled burrows and make their drama.

Meryl Streep shines as the exuberant Karen, caught between two men, two continents, and two lives. This is really a career-defining performance that can’t really be summed up in a review this small, but I will say that her portrayal of a woman in emotional conflict is divine. The subtleties in her face and the soft wording of the lines point to a dichotomy that splits her completely in half. The Meryl Streep slow breakdown rule is in effect here, and over the course of this film, she experiences an emotional devastation that is truly something to behold. Robert Redford, in another career-defining role, plays Denys like he was playing himself, even though to a small extent he probably is. He is such a natural at this role, the debonair huntsman. I felt like I was watching something perhaps I should not have, a special moment between two lovers, when I watched these two together, and it was these moments when these two actors united, that touched my heart deeply and made me feel very alive and electric. Although there has to be a 3rd wheel in every drama film, and that’s where Klaus Maria Brandauer comes in as Karen’s husband. He isn’t an evil man by any means, but he is an irresponsible fool who seems to fuck up his life, and all the lives around him with his bad investment choices, his laziness, and his syphilis (!!!). Brandauer plays this character with a roguishness that is just what he needed; he’s foolhardy and a little stupid, but he won’t usually do anything to get himself hurt. A perfect foil to Denys’s and Karen’s love.

I could go on all day about Out of Africa. Much like Karen, I feel like I’m discovering myself cinematically for the first time all over again. It’s an epic romance set in a gorgeous country, and I could not love it more. It’s probably the best Hollywood film I’ve seen since The Curious Case of Benjamin Button earlier this year. It’s a good reminder that every now and then, they don’t just mess everything up over there. I give Out of Africa 10 syphilitic coffee barons out of 10! My highest recommendation!

Come back tomorrow, when we discuss everyone’s favorite twin movie, Dead Ringers! Until then!!!

The Room (2003), or The Smell Of Wonders

Watching Tommy Wiseau’s The Room is like joining a club where people go to hit each other with Nerf bats and giggle at one another in the dark; I don’t think it’s harmful to either party, but something about it is shameful enough that you need to join a party to do it with another human being. The Room has gained a lot of steam around the Internet, being touted by many to be the worst film of the decade, and possibly OF ALL TIME. And while I’m normally pretty conservative about calling anything [fill in the blank] of all time, The Room, after having seen it, is truly not your average bad movie. This film, created by some weird German clay sculpture of a man named Tommy Wiseau, is aggressively bad, a terribleness that is not of intention, but rather the wonder and unadulterated joy of disastrously compiled human error; mistakes piled on top of hilarious mistakes from each member of the cast and crew combining hilariously into this amalgam of awful that passes up so-bad-it’s-good, flies by so-bad-it’s-bad, and lands smack dab in the middle of so-bad-it’s good after making a wrong turn the first time.

There’s really not that much to talk about as far as the plot. It’s stretched so incredibly thin over the course of 90 minutes, it really only has about 30 minutes worth of plot to work with. Basically, Johnny is the greatest guy in the whole world. He’s getting kids off of drugs, paying for much-needed college kid tuitions, providing for his future wife, Lisa, and stays close with his guy friends in the process. He’s a wonderful guy, even though he looks like a convicted serial killer, and he does everything he can for the people in his life. But future wife Lisa doesn’t care. She’s tired of him. He’s boring, and sometimes he hits her. Well, he doesn’t, but it doesn’t matter because she doesn’t want to talk about it. Anyway, she needs somebody new. Somebody like Johnny’s best friend Mark. He’s your average, unassuming guy who wants to be a good friend to Johnny, who’s just such a great guy. But Lisa’s lust gets the better of both of them, and she gives Mark a nice, hard love-making session. It will be a decision the two of them will wrestle with the rest of the film, and while Mark still wants to be friends with Johnny (because he’s so great!), Lisa starts to dislike and even hate Johnny for no apparent reason. This bitter love triangle can only lead one place, and it won’t be long before Johnny finds out about all these transgressions…

So that takes about 30 minutes, as I said. Well, what’s the other 60 minutes? A lot of pointless filler scenes. A LOT. I’m talking completely useless dialog, repaeated lines and sometimes whole scenes, random shots of San Francisco landmarks and urban settings, at least four gratuitous and overly long love-making scenes (each with their own cheesy Cinemax slow-jam), and a gaggle of what I call “friendship scenes”, which showcase Johnny’s ability to be a good friend to people he seems to know. This all eats into what might have filled an episode of Guiding Light, or maybe an exceptionally weak Twilight Zone episode, but horrifically drags on instead for over 90 minutes. It’s like watching a nasty train wreck befall an extremely long train; no matter how many cars fall off the track, that caboose is nowhere in sight.

Tommy Wiseau seems to be the problem with this production, seeing as how he is the writer, director, producer, and lead actor. There’s not a thing he does not influence in this production. There’s an amateurism to it, a smug, blithe amateurism that envelops The Room entirely. Wiseau writes a movie where he plays a heartbroken and tragic Gary Stu who only wants to help people, but doesn’t really work on the dialog, the editing, the camerawork, the acting, or anything else of import. Hell, I don’t even know if he even took a second look at this movie before he sent it in to the studio! But that paints a very vivid picture to me of someone so egomaniacal and self-centered that he took the role of the super-swell protagonist and built all of the other parts negligently because he just wanted to tell HIS story and HIS dream project. But The Room teaches me categorically if you’re going to make an ego project, at least take your time on it and make yourself look good!

The acting, beginning and ending with Tommy Wiseau, is pretty fucking awful. He has a thick accent from an unidentified European country, and I’m not sure he learned to act in our language yet, because he is unbelievable. Take a quick peek at one particularly tense scene:

Lines like that make me wonder if Wiseau has actually talked to another human being before. It IS a hoot to watch him try to grasp the subtleties of the language though, and his dramatic gestures are quite the pip. And I guess I’m not expecting much, since their fearless leader can barely emote in English, but the rest of the cast isn’t much better. Juliette Danielle is pretty as the evil Lisa, but she has the same “I don’t know what to do so I’ll just do this” mentality as Wiseau. Her body is pretty great, though, which is more than I can say for Wiseau, who looks like a mottled and pockmarked clay automaton underneath his over-sized suits. The best of the bunch was Greg Sestero, who plays best friend Mark. He is oblivious most of the movie, but when he gets into gear, he knows how to act marginally better than the people around him, so he deserves kudos for shaming himself the least! Keep an eye out for the scene where he apparently play tackles someone too hard and they fall to te fround together! Hilarious!

Don’t watch The Room unless you have a sick twisted sense of humor like me. It’s a chuckle-festival that examines both a love triangle and the hubris of trying to do everything yourself when you’re barely good enough to accomplish one thing decently. It’s undoubtedly one of the worst films of the new millennium, and I think that while everyone should see it once, don’t watch it alone. Wait until you have some pals to enjoy it with, because laughs, like friends, are good when it comes to sharing. If you can brave the terrible production that is this incompetent piece of garbage, I would love to hear your comments about it in the comments section. Let me know what you think about it, and until then, I give The Room, 1 overly-long Cinemax slow-jam. You’re tearing me APART, Tommy!

Tomorrow, I check into Out of Africa. Until then!

Brotherhood Of The Wolf (2001), or Anachronism Pile-Up

Brotherhood of the Wolf is a film that, despite my best efforts, I cannot totally give in to. A fanciful, stylish action flick set in the mid 18th century, this French export does a lot to set itself apart from the rest of the pack (HA!). There’s honestly not another film like it that I’ve seen; a martial arts/action/monster/ fantasy/period piece that flows fairly seamlessly from genre to genre. I’ll admit I’m impressed, and I’ll even admit I like it at certain points, but there is a line that some movies cross where, once they step over, I can no longer take it seriously and it becomes background noise for my own thoughts instead of entertainment. You know, that line a friend crosses when he starts telling you a story about his date and it ends up turning into a completely overblown lie (“And then her SISTER came in and they both started touching my donger…”)? This film crosses the line about a dozen times, leaving me detached and uncaring.

This is a Mirror Universe version of the Dragnet formula, where the names and places are changed to protect the innocent. The Brotherhood of the Wolf chooses to keep the names of real historical figures in French history and the places they lived, but changed around all the facts. In the 1760s, the province of Gevaudan is being besieged by a large and terrifying beast roaming the lands preying on the weak. Grégoire de Fronsac, the royal taxidermist of Louis XV (!!!), and his Native American buddy Mani, arrive to investigate the beast’s reign of terror. Fronsac is dubious of such a beast’s existence, but it’s difficult to overlook the brutalized victims he encounters and the many stories that come his way. His investigation becomes mired in intrigue when he starts noticing that a secret group is championing this beast in an effort to cause turmoil and overthrow the monarchy. The group will stop at nothing to ensure their plan goes off without a hitch, and soon Fronsac and his friend are the targets of powers he can’t begin to fathom. Can the royal taxidermist discover the secrets of the Brotherhood of the Wolf before it’s too late? Or is alternate-history France doomed under the boot of this secretive regime?

The Brotherhood of the Wolf is to be taken with a grain of salt, presumably, but it’s hard to tell because it’s played so straight. I mean, are we to take very seriously the fact that the ROYAL TAXIDERMIST and the French version of Tonto (Le Tonto) use martial arts and really slick  Gun Fu to take down a society who’s using a freakishly large beast to stir up religious fervor and dethrone the incredibly lame Louis XV? Common sense would say ‘no’, but the tone of Christophe Gans’ film suggests otherwise. Perhaps it’s the self-importance of the main cast that confuses me; everything about their actions suggests that this is the next Truffaut film, and we should all be very concerned about the fate of France in the face of this incredibly literary, high-minded threat. It’s not the fact that it’s weird; I can handle that, trust me. But it’s the severity this absurdity is taken with that I have a problem accepting.

The film has to be noted for looking beautiful, though. The costumes are brilliant, and while I do not know if they are anachronistic or not, it hardly seems to matter considering a Native American in 1760s France can clearly be seen doing martial arts here! The sets are moody, transcendent, and generally just great. I especially like the exquisitely crafted exteriors in the dead of night in the French countryside. Simply amazing. Christophe Gans has that very glossy, very clean style of directing that comes off as emotionally sterile but aesthetically pleasing. There’s nothing especially important about any of the shots, other than that they look cool. Essentially, watching The Brotherhood of the Wolf is the cinematic equivalent of those really nice collectible busts you see at conventions; I can appreciate the work put in, even if it’s all to be taken at face value.

(Note: I have one of those collectible busts. It’s from the movie Lake Placid, and the bust is of former Golden Girl Betty White when she’s telling Bill Pullman, “If I had a dick, this is when I’d tell you to suck it!” $499 put to good use!)

The acting is good for an action film. The standout is Samuel Le Bihan, the fiery and inquisitive Fronsac, the greatest taxidermist of his generation. He exudes that heroic flair as an actor that flows from the screen, inviting us to revel in his heroism. He has a good range, and he veritably breathes that period piece sensuality. Speaking of sensuality, Emilie Dequenne is stunning as Fronsac’s love interest, Marianne de Morangias. Sultry, elegant, and a tiny bit sassy for the 18th century. Not bad. And I fervently wish that Mark Dacascos was not reduced to the mute kung fu guy here, but what can you do? He plays Mani with a non-descript ethnicity and flavor that I can’t really put my finger on, but am certainly glad is there. He has a lot of class, and even though I put him through the ringer in my super-harsh Double Dragon review, I still think he’s a good actor who can put on quite a performance. Vincent Cassel must also be mentioned for his good looks and his over-the-top performance here as a particularly eccentric character who I’ll let you discover on your own. He’s like the Phantom of the Opera, only sexier!

So if you like any of the aforementioned genres, The Brotherhood of the Wolf will be an interesting experiment for you. If you like super-slick foreign action films, this might be something you will want to see. Or if you just like shiny, glossy movies with more style than substance, this is definitely the movie for you (not that there’s anything wrong with that…). It’s not exactly smart or endearing, but in an oddly dramatic, operatic way, it has a beauty that transcends a lot of its faults. Let’s just say it’s not bad and leave it at that. I give The Brotherhood of the Wolf 6 1/2 royal taxidermists out of 10.

I’m going overtime folks! Catch up with me later tonight or tomorrow to find out what I thought of The Room!

I’ll Be Back Tomorrow!

Tomorrow I’ll have two reviews lined up for you folks! First, I have a review of Brotherhood of the Wolf, and after that you get a taste of Tommy Wiseau’s The Room! Yay! I’ll see you tomorrow!