If you watch much comedy, there’s a good chance you’ll recognize Kathryn Hahn, but less chance you’ll know her name. She plays a lot of brassy women, like the ruthless campaign manager on Parks and Recreation, and she also has a supporting role in We’re the Millers. But she gets to headline this sometimes serious, sometimes raunchy comedy, playing the sometimes brassy but more frequently closed up Rachel, a Los Angeles housewife (and mother to a little boy) who can barely bring herself to tell her therapist (Jane Lynch) what’s bothering her, such as that she hasn’t had sex with her husband (Josh Radnor) in six months. (A little wine brings out the brassy, even raunchy, side.)
Into this story comes McKenna (Juno Temple), a stripper Rachel encounters on a visit to a local club. Something draws Rachel to her, and so Rachel seeks her out and eventually invites her to stay. I liked the character but she doesn’t fit in with the rescue fantasy Rachel but is also the sleazy gold-digger she might have been written as. Rachel is a tougher character to assess, a woman whose problem seems to be not being in touch with her problems. She might simply strike a lot of people as a spoiled rich woman with too much time on her hands, but the comedy, which is funny, tempers that, and I don’t think she’s meant to be entirely sympathetic. The way the plot resolves is not entirely the cliché it could have been, but the ending may be a little pat. Or maybe it’s subtle. I’m still not entirely clear on what leads Rachel to seek out the stripper; it seems maybe Rachel might have a kinky side, but this theme is explored in only the most tentative way, then tossed aside, despite a few nude scenes. In any case, a very good role for Hahn and a fairly promising feature debut for TV writer/producer Jill Soloway (United States of Tara).
IMDb link
viewed 9/11/13 7:30 at Ritz Bourse and posted 9/11/13
Showing posts with label stripper. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stripper. Show all posts
Friday, September 6, 2013
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
We're the Millers (***)
A small-time pot dealer (Jason Sudeikis) hires a broke stripper (Jennifer Aniston) and a couple of teenagers to be his pretend family on a smuggling trip to Mexico. The four of them veer between bickering and fearing for their lives while learning that, if you fake something long enough, it starts to seem a little real.
By no means does it get all sentimental, but the characters are real enough that some of the less-realistic aspects of the plot aren’t bothersome. And the funniest moments come from the characters, not the inevitable sex jokes. (The raunch level is medium, up to and including anal-sex jokes.) I enjoyed, for example, when the “daughter” (Emma Roberts) is completely baffled by a reference to Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch. The screenplay is the combined effort of the writers of Wedding Crashers, who probably handled most of the dialogue, and Hot Tub Time Machine, who probably came up with the idea of having Jennifer Aniston do a (PG-rated) strip for the guys running the marijuana warehouse.
IMDb link
viewed 6/28/14 on iPad [HBO] and posted 6/29/14
By no means does it get all sentimental, but the characters are real enough that some of the less-realistic aspects of the plot aren’t bothersome. And the funniest moments come from the characters, not the inevitable sex jokes. (The raunch level is medium, up to and including anal-sex jokes.) I enjoyed, for example, when the “daughter” (Emma Roberts) is completely baffled by a reference to Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch. The screenplay is the combined effort of the writers of Wedding Crashers, who probably handled most of the dialogue, and Hot Tub Time Machine, who probably came up with the idea of having Jennifer Aniston do a (PG-rated) strip for the guys running the marijuana warehouse.
IMDb link
viewed 6/28/14 on iPad [HBO] and posted 6/29/14
Friday, June 29, 2012
Magic Mike (***)
Steven Soderbergh has made dull movies, but never cheesy ones, and his drama about male strippers isn’t either. His star, Channing Tatum, may have gotten his big break in a dance movie, but this is a step up from Step Up, whose story was mostly a prelude to a big dance off. In fact, for those looking for something entirely fluffy with some male eye candy, this may not be not even be cheesy enough.
The eye candy is there, of course. Besides Tatum, the major characters include the head cheese and master of ceremonies at the Tampa establishment, Matthew McConaughey, in a showy, tailor-made role, and “the Kid” (Alex Pettyfer), a new recruit that Tatum’s character takes under his wing. The Kid has a sister (Cody Horn). You can tell she’ll be a love interest because she wears a scowl, is smart, and doesn’t have casual sex like the other characters. The stripping scenes are there, too—no full monty, though—and they’re kind of funny, with different themes.
Soderbergh depicts Mike’s world as not really glamorous (odd, dark lighting effects contribute), perhaps a bit sleazy (with casual sex and drug use), but in most ways just another workplace in post-recession Florida. Mike (Tatum) has a couple of jobs and is saving his money. He’s kind of a stripper with a heart of gold, facing the usual fork in the road. He’s a believable character, maybe too realistic for those seeking fantasy. The crucial scenes that establish the rapport between Mike and the Kid’s sister really work, though, and the stripping stuff seems realistic enough, other than the absence of any gay men either among the strippers or in the audience. (No black folks either.) The realism might be explained by the fact that Tatum’s real-life experiences in the business were a basis for the screenplay (credited to Reid Carolin, whose prior credit was a documentary about the Rwandan genocide). In any case, the premise alone might draw a certain crowd, but the actual product is a little better than it needs to be.
viewed 7/12/12 7:30 at Roxy and reviewed 7/13/12 and 7/17/12 and 7/18/12
The eye candy is there, of course. Besides Tatum, the major characters include the head cheese and master of ceremonies at the Tampa establishment, Matthew McConaughey, in a showy, tailor-made role, and “the Kid” (Alex Pettyfer), a new recruit that Tatum’s character takes under his wing. The Kid has a sister (Cody Horn). You can tell she’ll be a love interest because she wears a scowl, is smart, and doesn’t have casual sex like the other characters. The stripping scenes are there, too—no full monty, though—and they’re kind of funny, with different themes.
Soderbergh depicts Mike’s world as not really glamorous (odd, dark lighting effects contribute), perhaps a bit sleazy (with casual sex and drug use), but in most ways just another workplace in post-recession Florida. Mike (Tatum) has a couple of jobs and is saving his money. He’s kind of a stripper with a heart of gold, facing the usual fork in the road. He’s a believable character, maybe too realistic for those seeking fantasy. The crucial scenes that establish the rapport between Mike and the Kid’s sister really work, though, and the stripping stuff seems realistic enough, other than the absence of any gay men either among the strippers or in the audience. (No black folks either.) The realism might be explained by the fact that Tatum’s real-life experiences in the business were a basis for the screenplay (credited to Reid Carolin, whose prior credit was a documentary about the Rwandan genocide). In any case, the premise alone might draw a certain crowd, but the actual product is a little better than it needs to be.
viewed 7/12/12 7:30 at Roxy and reviewed 7/13/12 and 7/17/12 and 7/18/12
Friday, February 12, 2010
Saint John of Las Vegas (**1/2)
This is the second-funniest movie of the last year to be set in Vegas, though it’s a toss up whether this or The Hangover’s plot is less believable. The Hangover, you may recall, involved a foursome who wake up to find their hotel room mysteriously trashed, a tiger in the bathroom, an unclaimed baby, and a chicken. Here we have naturists with guns, a burning tow-truck driver (in a flame-retardant suit), and the most unusual lap dance I’ve seen on film. I imagined that the chicken from The Hangover, whose presence never was explained, might show up.
It’s supposed to be based on Dante’s Inferno, in presumably its least-literal film interpretation. John (Steve Buscemi) shares Dante’s last name, Alegheri, and his journey into the here-figurative Hell is guided by one Virgil (Romany Malco)—his surly coworker, not the poet. They’re insurance investigators in Albuquerque. John’s a gambling addict who moved out of Nevada so his losses would be confined to scratch-off tickets and such, but has to go back there to uncover a possibly fraudulent claim. This is a decent premise for a movie, but writer-director Hue Rhodes, in a feature debut, is more interested in having a bunch of weird stuff happen than in showing the dark side of gambling addiction or how insurance companies really do catch cheaters. (Presumably it doesn't involve sending investigators from 500 miles away, but who knows.) The sharpest moment is when John, finally headed back into a casino, gets a call from his erstwhile sweetheart (Sarah Silverman) and quickly brushes her off.
For all the (easily ignored) 14th-century literary references, the comedy plays like a small picture whose amusing moments don’t quite cohere (or seem forced), and whose plot doesn’t really work. Dream sequences seem like padding in a film that still winds up short of the 90-minute mark.
IMDB link
viewed 2/8/2010 at Ritz Bourse [PFS screening] and reviewed 2/9–11/2010
It’s supposed to be based on Dante’s Inferno, in presumably its least-literal film interpretation. John (Steve Buscemi) shares Dante’s last name, Alegheri, and his journey into the here-figurative Hell is guided by one Virgil (Romany Malco)—his surly coworker, not the poet. They’re insurance investigators in Albuquerque. John’s a gambling addict who moved out of Nevada so his losses would be confined to scratch-off tickets and such, but has to go back there to uncover a possibly fraudulent claim. This is a decent premise for a movie, but writer-director Hue Rhodes, in a feature debut, is more interested in having a bunch of weird stuff happen than in showing the dark side of gambling addiction or how insurance companies really do catch cheaters. (Presumably it doesn't involve sending investigators from 500 miles away, but who knows.) The sharpest moment is when John, finally headed back into a casino, gets a call from his erstwhile sweetheart (Sarah Silverman) and quickly brushes her off.
For all the (easily ignored) 14th-century literary references, the comedy plays like a small picture whose amusing moments don’t quite cohere (or seem forced), and whose plot doesn’t really work. Dream sequences seem like padding in a film that still winds up short of the 90-minute mark.
IMDB link
viewed 2/8/2010 at Ritz Bourse [PFS screening] and reviewed 2/9–11/2010
Friday, January 9, 2009
The Wrestler (***1/2)
This is, I suppose, the gritty, indie version of Rocky. Or Rocky V, perhaps. At any rate, it’s the story of an old-timer (Mickey Rourke) who’s seen the big time come and go, and now serves as a journeyman athlete-entertainer. Barely affording a North Jersey trailer home with income from a second job, he spends a good deal of of his non-working time preparing—pumping iron, dying his hair, doping, and acquiring props for use in the ring. Ex-boxer Rourke and director Darren Aronofsky beautifully depict this weekend warrior.
Aronofsky is known as the writer-director of such films as Pi and Requiem for a Dream. Here and in his forthcoming Robocop remake he works from someone else’s (here, Robert D. Siegel) script. This will likely seem a wise move if you’ve seen 2006’s muddled The Fountain, which confirmed Aronofsky as a better visual stylist than a writer. The story here isn’t fancy, and, surprisingly, neither is the camera work. The only time I really noticed the camera was in the beginning, when for at least five minutes it follows Rourke without showing his face.
Matching his character, Rourke’s is a face many won’t have seen for some time, although he has had supporting roles in some big movies like The Rainmaker and Sin City. Obviously we are to be shocked by the sight this powerful, muscular yet grizzled 50 year old, whose scars may come from Rourke’s days in the ring. Randy “The Ram” Robinson has lost (most of) his fame, all of his money, and his estranged daughter (Evan Rachel Wood), with only a stripper-with-a-heart-of-gold (Marisa Tomei) to turn to. If this sounds perilously close to cliché, that’s about right. It is Sunset Boulevard with an athlete, or Raging Bull without the rage, except that “the Ram” isn’t chasing past glory, only the next paycheck and chance to entertain the crowd. Aronofsky and Siegel stay on the good side of sentimentality by keeping things in the present. Except for an opening montage, we merely infer Ram’s history.
Rocky Balboa is a good comparison because there the appeal is much more based on watching the character behave than the plot. For most of The Wrestler, this is more than enough. Since they make more movies about boxing than pro wrestling, the background scenes are especially intriguing. I know absolutely nothing about the sport, but the easy camaraderie among the fighters, the casual drug use, and the way they informally plot out the way the fight will go (it seems to be assumed who will “win”) seem true. The brilliantly shot fight scenes depict how the matches are faked (or choreographed, perhaps) as well as the extremely real physicality the fighters bring. (In one scene that’s both humorous and horrifying, an upcoming opponent asks Ram if he minds having a staple gun used on him.) One gets an inside-out, athlete’s-eye view of the match.
In the end, the movie sort of paints itself into a corner; plot-wise, all options are clichéed or dull. And so it simply ends. But the Ram is among the least forgettable of characters in 2008 cinema, and, despite the somber tone, this is easily the most entertainment I’ve ever gotten out of pro wrestling.
IMDB link
viewed 1/12/09 at Ritz Bourse; reviewed 1/18/09
Aronofsky is known as the writer-director of such films as Pi and Requiem for a Dream. Here and in his forthcoming Robocop remake he works from someone else’s (here, Robert D. Siegel) script. This will likely seem a wise move if you’ve seen 2006’s muddled The Fountain, which confirmed Aronofsky as a better visual stylist than a writer. The story here isn’t fancy, and, surprisingly, neither is the camera work. The only time I really noticed the camera was in the beginning, when for at least five minutes it follows Rourke without showing his face.
Matching his character, Rourke’s is a face many won’t have seen for some time, although he has had supporting roles in some big movies like The Rainmaker and Sin City. Obviously we are to be shocked by the sight this powerful, muscular yet grizzled 50 year old, whose scars may come from Rourke’s days in the ring. Randy “The Ram” Robinson has lost (most of) his fame, all of his money, and his estranged daughter (Evan Rachel Wood), with only a stripper-with-a-heart-of-gold (Marisa Tomei) to turn to. If this sounds perilously close to cliché, that’s about right. It is Sunset Boulevard with an athlete, or Raging Bull without the rage, except that “the Ram” isn’t chasing past glory, only the next paycheck and chance to entertain the crowd. Aronofsky and Siegel stay on the good side of sentimentality by keeping things in the present. Except for an opening montage, we merely infer Ram’s history.
Rocky Balboa is a good comparison because there the appeal is much more based on watching the character behave than the plot. For most of The Wrestler, this is more than enough. Since they make more movies about boxing than pro wrestling, the background scenes are especially intriguing. I know absolutely nothing about the sport, but the easy camaraderie among the fighters, the casual drug use, and the way they informally plot out the way the fight will go (it seems to be assumed who will “win”) seem true. The brilliantly shot fight scenes depict how the matches are faked (or choreographed, perhaps) as well as the extremely real physicality the fighters bring. (In one scene that’s both humorous and horrifying, an upcoming opponent asks Ram if he minds having a staple gun used on him.) One gets an inside-out, athlete’s-eye view of the match.
In the end, the movie sort of paints itself into a corner; plot-wise, all options are clichéed or dull. And so it simply ends. But the Ram is among the least forgettable of characters in 2008 cinema, and, despite the somber tone, this is easily the most entertainment I’ve ever gotten out of pro wrestling.
IMDB link
viewed 1/12/09 at Ritz Bourse; reviewed 1/18/09
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