About Last NIght (**3/4)

So…David Mamet writes this play back in the 1970s — Sexual Perversity in Chicago — that puts him right on America’s culture radar as a master of dialogue, up-and-coming playwright, etc. It’s about two couples, sexual politics, and the rise and fall of one relationship in nine weeks. In 1986, it becomes the movie About Last Night…. Mamet hates it, but it does well and help establish Demi Moore and Rob Lowe as Brat Pack elite. It keeps some of Mamet’s dialogue but adds a dusting of rom-com, multiplex potpourri and sets the drama over the course of a year.

Cut to 28 years later, and the ellipsis is gone from the title, and it’s set in the age of cell phones, in, unfortunately, Los Angeles, which removes the climatic visual element from the seasonally timed segments. But it mostly follows the earlier film’s template; not only Mamet gets a credit, but so do Tim Kazurinsky and Denise DeClue, authors of the earlier screenplay. The primary couple, still called Dan and Debbie, are played by Michael Ealy and Joy Bryant. (In one scene, they fondly watch the Moore-Lowe version on video.) Kevin Hart and Regina Hall play the best friends/comic foils/cruder pair (Jim Belushi and Elizabeth Perkins in the 1986 movie).

Further removed from the Mamet pedigree, the movie comes across as perfectly ordinary and pleasant. While the play’s men vs. women 1970s sexual politics are probably dated, this only slightly updates the politics while keeping out any edge to the characters and moving further away from Mamet’s dialogue. (Perhaps this isn’t all bad. Having just watched the 1986 movie’s opening dialogue, which does come from Mamet, I thought it sounded exaggerated and artificial; the replacement scene is a slightly more natural, if more generic, mildly comic story of an extra-special blow job.)

Bryant is a joy to watch, pun intended, but her character is so nice that the inevitable tension that crops up in the relationship seems manufactured. Seriously, her vice is insisting that everyone uses coasters so as not to leave a mark on the table. In this iteration, the plot about the man wanting to hang out with the boys and not be tied down or told where to put his glass is both an annoying cliché and not convincing. The fraught-with-sexual tension relationship between the bickering secondary characters provides most of the humor, although it too is entirely predictable.


IMDb link

viewed 2/5/14 8:00 pm at University City Penn 6; posted 2/6/14

Her (**3/4)

The premise of Her — man falls in love with operating system — is both intriguing and goofy. Written and directed by Spike Jonze (Where the Wild Things Are), it uses a nominally sci-fi premise to explore the meaning of love. In its vision of the near future, not unlike the present day, everyone walks around talking into electronic devices. Also, men get divorced and are lonely, like cubicle jockey Theodore Twombly (Joaquin Phoenix), who composes, and dictates to a computer, apparently heartfelt letters that others pass off as their own. (One imagines the reactions of widows realizing that their monosyllabic husband’s exquisite love letters were the words of another.)

Twombly walks out of the office dictating to a cute little device that made me think of a foldable mirror that might be kept in a purse, but in this case reads emails to him. But a new operating system, simply called OS1, has been invented that will interact with you as never before. It comes with paper directions and, in what seems like whimsy in a movie that is not whimsical, asks Theodore a few random-seeming questions, then emerges with the voice of Scarlett Johansson, naming herself (itself?) Samantha, just because she (it?) likes the name. (OS1 gives you the choice of a male or female voice, but not a gender-ambiguous one.)

What this reminded me of before I saw it was Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, which also explored love and identity with a nominally sci-fi premise. However, where that movie was funny and kinetic, this movie is deliberate and earnest. It is occasionally funny, but not often. Once, during a sex scene, it is unintentionally funny. Virtually so, anyway. At other times, it’s the cinematic equivalent of listening to other people’s love letters, like the ones Theodore invents. The sincerity can be almost cloying at times.

It’s not that I mind a serious or even somber movie, but a lighter tone might have helped sell me on the idea that a human would not mind the absence of a body, or that an artificial intelligence that thinks fast enough to read hundreds of books in seconds would not be bored by a human. The latter point is, in fact, addressed eventually, and Jonze certainly does make you think about what it means to love, about loneliness, and about how we will interact with our computers in the future. This is mostly about the first two questions, using Twombly as the experiment. The other significant characters in the film are his soon-to-be ex-wife (Rooney Mara) and his office friend (Amy Adams), so there is only a glimpse of a vision of what true artificial intelligence might mean for society. I can see the reason for the movie’s acclaim; it has a depth to it, and a stylistic unity. But, I still liked Robot & Frank better.

IMDb link

viewed 2/6/14 6:55 pm at AMC Cherry Hill; posted 2/9/14

Enough Said (***1/2)

How can a divorced person trust her own judgment in romance? That’s the question asked by Eva (Julia Louis-Dreyfuss), a Los Angeles massage therapist, and by filmmaker Nicole Holofcener. Holofcener has made several well-regarded ensemble-cast comedic dramas that often focus on what people think of each other, and what they think others think of them.

This probably the most conventionally structured of her films, recognizable as a not entirely atypical romantic comedy. Eva meets Albert (James Gandolfini) at a party, and, though she’s at first put off by the extra weight he’s carrying, quickly hits it off with him. Both of them have daughters about to head off to college, but where a lesser film might use that as a shorthand to let us know that these characters belong together, Holofcener constructs a beautiful first date scene that personalizes both characters and believably, and humorously, establishes the relationship. When Albert tells her he’s divorced too, Eva asks if she could have his ex-wife’s number. “Can you imagine the time that would save?”

It’s a joke, but eventually, she begins to question herself, spurred on by one of her clients (Holofcener regular Catherine Keener), a poet who has no kind words for her ex-husband. Has she overlooked Albert’s flaws? Do bad relationships happen to flawed people, or people who are simply wrong for each other? The last hour plays out these themes as well as the one about Eva’s impending empty nest, as her daughter’s school is across the country.

A coincidence, leading to a small but important lie (a lie of omission), is at the center of the story, and the explosion of this lie provides the big climax that you’ll know is coming and that forms a similar resolution to other romantic comedies in which lies and misunderstandings must be corrected. But, regardless of the high concept, Holefcenter’s ability to create specific characters and rich dialogue remains her strength. The likeability of the two leads (in contrast to the television characters they’re best known for) makes this perhaps the most easily approachable of her films.

IMDb link

viewed 9/23/13 7:30 pm at Ritz 5 [PFS screening] and posted 9/27/13

Afternoon Delight (***1/4)

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

This Is 40 (***1/4)

Judd Apatow revisits the supporting couple Pete (Paul Rudd) and Debbie (Leslie Mann), from his movie Knocked Up. It doesn’t matter if you’ve seen that movie—none of the other major characters makes an appearance here—but if you did and liked the alternately argumentative and simpatico duo this is more of the same. If you liked the mix of crude humor and emotion, there’s still a little bit of raunch, occasionally seeming forced. I guess in Los Angeles women confide sexual intimacies to their trainer, like that their husband took Viagra. (Pete didn’t need to, but  it was Debbie’s birthday and “I thought you’d think it was fun for me to supersize it for once,” he says.) But they have bigger problems, mostly money problems. Pete’s independent record label is foundering, thanks in part to its inability to get fans to buy the latest album from 1970s/’80s semi-star Graham Parker. (Parker plays himself.) Debbie thinks someone’s stealing from her clothes store. They communicate poorly, except when they don’t.

I’ve liked all of Apatow’s work and liked this. Apatow’s ability to craft natural-sounding dialogue, along with some that’s improvised, is the movie’s forte, which is good in a talky movie. His characters, including the minor ones (like John Lithgow and Albert Brooks as the difficult fathers of Pete and Debbie) are consistently engaging, so long as one does not conflate that with being admirable. I appreciate that Apatow resists the impulse to make his characters always likable (or perfect parents). Whether Mann and Apatow’s daughters Iris and Maud, who play Pete and Debbie’s bickering kids, are the best child actors is open to debate, but they seem more like real kids than many seen on screen. The early scenes may seem somewhat disjointed, and lighter in tone, not fully setting up the more confrontational second part.

I normally wouldn’t recommend the outtakes that sometimes play over the closing credits; usually they’re just the actors laughing, but in this case it’s an amazing thing to watch Melissa McCarthy continuing a lengthy, probably improvised rant without breaking character as her costars giggle and obviously render the scene unusable.

IMDb link

viewed 6/29/13 on iPad (from Netflix DVD) and reviewed 6/29–7/6/13

Seven Psychopaths (***)

I am pretty sure of this: Like the alcoholic and aspiring screenwriter played by Colin Farrell, Martin McDonagh, the writer-director of this comedy, came up with the title first. The fictional screenwriter has only a couple of ideas, like one about a Buddhist psychopath, but he also has the advantage of a helpfully nutty friend (Sam Rockwell) and some real-life events to inspire him. Whereas McDonagh, I think, largely made all this stuff up, which shows he has quite an imagination, but also that much of what passes here strains credulity.

As with In Bruges, McDonagh’s previous effort, or even more so, I felt too aware of the attempts at cleverness, though possibly I laughed more anyway. The Ferrell character dreams of creating a movie about psychopaths that’s nonetheless “life-affirming,” and so does McDonagh, I imagine, even though he’s mostly trying to be funny. The story largely revolves around a dognapping ring. Rockwell’s character is caught up in it, and so is another one played by Christopher Walken. Their dognappers’ victims include one of the psychopaths, played by Woody Harrelson. Harrelson’s character doesn’t hestitate to prey on the weak, or to pretend to kill someone just for a gag, but his quest is the return of his beloved dog, Bonnie, for whom his heart melts. So there’s the life-affirming part.

McDonagh does some of the same mixing of creative plotting, oddball characters, and arch dialogue that Quentin Tarantino employs with much less visible patchwork. Nonetheless, it would be difficult to have such colorful actors as Harrelson, Rockwell, and Walken in the same movie and have it be forgettable, or humorless. And, in fact, McDonagh meets his own challenge by coming up with an original conclusion, or a couple of them, actually, that’s dramatically satisfying, though “life-affirming” would be stretching things.

IMDb link

viewed 10/4/12 7:30 at Rave University City and reviewed 10/5-12/12

Celeste & Jesse Forever (***1/2)

Maybe Hollywood has exhausted the possibilities of romantic comedies that have puns or numbers in the title, climax with someone chasing someone down at an airport, or end with snapshots of happy couples with their future children. In any case, there seem to be a steady trickle, not always evident in the multiplexes (unless Meryl Streep is in the movie), of movies that are comedic, and involve romance, but focus on something other than the how-will-they-finally-get-together. Like Streep’s Hope Springs, this involves an already-married couple (Rashida Jones, Andy Samberg) with difficulties.

What are these difficulties? They don’t seem apparent at first. In fact, the movie starts with Celeste, whose Hollywood-type job involves spotting cultural trends and writing a book called Shitegeist, and Jesse, an aspiring but unemployed artist, getting along famously, singing the lyrics to the same Lily Allen album cut. Only they’ve already decided to break up, which seems so bizarre that it freaks out their friends. And here the story begins, with the will-they-or-won’t-they-reunite question actually not clear until the end. Jones, who wrote the screenplay with Will McCormack, who plays a friend, has created a character who is both difficult in some ways and likable. Jesse is decidedly more laid back, and maybe lazy, but is also likable. Basically, you wind up rooting for the characters but do see their differences.

Dating adventures and get-togethers dominate the plot, as in many romantic comedies. There are just a few easy gags, as where a vegan restaurant has a seaweed menu and won’t, for some reason, serve caffeinated tea. And there’s a minor wedding-speech fiasco scene, which also seems to be a common item, but this one’s pretty funny. And since the movie takes place in Los Angeles, there are a few satirical swipes at the entertainment industry. But most of the humor comes out of the characters. Non-feather-light films like this one may or may not be romantic comedies as we have come to define them. But when they’re as simultaneously thoughtful and funny as this one, who’s to quibble?

IMDb link

viewed 8/14/12 7:30 at Ritz East [PFS screening] and reviewed 8/16/12

Ruby Sparks (**3/4)

Pity the artist who falls in love with his own creation. This is another take on the Greek Pygmalion myth, which inspired George Bernard Shaw. The artist in this case is Calvin (Paul Dano), a one-hit-wonder novelist with lots of acolytes, but no friends unless you count his dog (prominently featured), his brother (a wry Chris Messina), and his shrink (Elliott Gould). I’d thought maybe the writer’s block plot was inspired by the attempts of the film’s directors, Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris, to follow up their six-year-old hit, Little Miss Sunshine (whose zany tone is no guide to this). But no, it’s a first screenplay by the doll-faced lead actress, Zoe Kazan; her eponymous character springs fully formed (well, almost) from Calvin’s imagination, just as he wrote her, and, after the expected how-did-this-happen-is-she-real-am-I-crazy machinations made-to-order girlfriend.

Somewhat funny in predictable ways, the movie takes awhile to get to the more interesting part, where Calvin gets to a dark place and realizes he cannot have the perfect girlfriend when he himself is a narcissistic child. Compare a movie like Adaptation for a more original, twisted take on writer’s block. (Although, as plots about blocked writers whose stories come true go, it certainly beats the hell out of Alex & Emma, which succeeded only in convincing me that the main character was a hack.) Barring that, it would’ve been fun for Kazan to write more bizarre character transformations for herself. All Calvin has to do is type it, and Ruby becomes it, which is too much power for anyone, but Calvin’s a little too nice to truly exploit this plot point. Still, it’s fun when he/Kazan does. Not a gem, this Ruby, but a reasonable first effort for its 28-year-old screenwriter.

IMDb link

viewed 7/9/12 7:30 pm at Ritz East [PFS Screening with directors and stars in attendance] and reviewed 7/9/12

Rock of Ages (**)

Somewhere there must be rock music fans, folks who likely came of age in the era of Reagan, who do not cherish the age of “classic rock,” or the 1990s grunge-rock explosion, but to that in-between era swept aside by grunge and its cousins. Sure, in this time, the 1980s, there were green shoots of “alternative” rock — R.E.M., the Replacements, even early U2 —but mainstream rock fans, and the characters in this movie —were hearing other sounds. I speak of Journey, and Def Leppard, and Bon Jovi, of course, but also second-tier acts such as Extreme (“More Than Words”), Poison (“Every Rose Has Its Thorn”), and Night Ranger (“Sister Christian”). It was rock at its most theatrical, thus, in that sense, perfect for a    musical. Playwright Chris D’Arienzo gets a screenplay credit in Hollywood’s version of his Broadway hit.

The plot is typical: midwestern girl (Julianne Hough) comes to Los Angeles to make it as a singer, meets like-minded boy, settles for being a club waitress. Yep, same plot as Burlesque, with different tunes. Oh, it’s fun to see Alec Baldwin as the hippie-era refugee running the club, with Russell Brand as his equally hairy sidekick. And Tom Cruise certainly embodies the stereotypically decadent rock star, Stacee Jaxx, he plays. Catherine Zeta-Jones is the mayor’s (Bryan Cranston) wife, a Tipper Gore caricature crusading against heavy metal. Malin Åkerman is a big-haired Rolling Stone reporter. Mary J. Blige, who covers Pat Benatar, is a strip-club owner. They all sing these bombastic songs (“Wanted Dead or Alive,” “I Want to Know What Love Is,” even, egads, “We Built This City”), sometimes as Glee-style medleys, usually trading off vocals. “Sister Christian” is a spontaneous sing-off among bus passengers. It’s mind-bogglingly earnest. But my favorite part might have been when the boy shyly plays the girl the song he supposedly just wrote, and it turns out to be Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing,” after which the girl says, “I can’t believe you wrote that!” Indeed.

Hairspray’s Adam Shankman directs with a similar flair, making 1980s L.A., like his 1960s Baltimore, a little shinier and smoother than the real thing. The pacing is also fine, but other than the idea of employing famous actors to sing straightforward versions of 1980s rock (no pop or R&B), there is nothing original here. (Reprising the stage version’s incorporation of characters addressing the audience might have been a novelty.) The first half is cheesy and rarely witty, although Brand has a good line or two, like one about “hibernating in Margaret Thatcher’s bumhole.” The second half remains cheesy, but at this point seems to be self-consciously so, as if it’s become aware of how dumb it is. I heard the guy behind me describe it after as “so bad it’s good.” My guess is that if you are fond of the songs, you’ll feel the same. If not, this will seem pretty tedious.

IMDb link

viewed 5/30/12 at Ritz East [PFS screening] and reviewed 5/31–7/3/12

The Sound of My Voice (***1/4)

Some actresses complain about the dearth of good parts for women. Brit Marling writes them for herself. In Another Earth, she was an ex-offender hoping for a trip to an alternative future. In this, one of two film’s she’s written with director Zal Batmanglij, she’s a purported visitor from the future, or charlatan, maybe, preparing a cult-like group of followers to return with her to the year 2054. 

The key characters, though, are a couple (Christopher Denham, Nicole Vicius) who’ve been admitted to her circle but are actually aspiring journalists aiming to expose her as a fraud. As Another Earth used its nominally sci-fi premise as a way to explore the guilt felt by its main character, The Sound of My Voice uses its cult story to explore the issue of trust. At the same time, it functions as a tight little mystery.

IMDb link

viewed 5/9/12 7:20 at Ritz 5 and reviewed 5/10–11/12

Rampart (***)

A few more movies like this and the LAPD might get a bad reputation. Woody Harrelson’s character, Dave Brown, instantly dislikable yet, by the end, a bit pitiable, is the unclean cop in a film that starts out seeming something like Training Day. As Brown, nicknamed “date rape,” but not for the reason you think, instructs his own trainee on the ways of controlling “wetbacks” and other riff raff, she asks if he isn’t afraid of getting a “128” (sanction for misbehavior). “Illegal is just a sick bird,” he replies. But the recruit moves on, and the Brown’s misconduct catches up the modern way, by being caught on video. Arrogant charm is enough to get a lawyer (Robin Wright) into his bed, but seems less likely to win over Internal Affairs. A retired cop buddy (Ned Beatty) may or may not be helping. And his two exes—sisters—and two daughters (one by each sister) are losing patience with him. (The high school-age daughter, especially.)

Unlike most cop films, this is very much a character study, not an action thriller. The director is Oren Moverman, who previously directed Harrelson in The Messenger, but the low-key realism, and no doubt much of the gritty, witty dialogue comes partly by way of cowriter James Ellroy. Ellroy wrote the book on corrupt Los Angeles cops, several in fact; one was L.A. Confidential. (Rampart is an L.A. police division involved in a real misconduct scandal in the late 1990s, but this story is narrowly focused.)  Wisely, the movie doesn’t drift into obvious moralizing like Training Day. There’s no Ethan Hawke character to serve as audience surrogate. Brown’s family serves some of the same function, but mostly this is about a man who has lived by his own rules slowly coming to grips with the cost. By the end, that theme has been reiterated to the point of near redundancy. Still, Moverman is not heavy handed, and the movie stops before depicting an ending that is by then, broadly obvious.

IMDb link

viewed at Ritz Bourse 2/16/12 7:30 pm [PFS screening] and reviewed 2/16/12

This Means War (**1/4)

When computer programs become sophisticated enough to write and direct movies on their own, this may be the kind they create. Carefully designed with an easy-to-describe high concept—CIA agent pals fight over Reese Witherspoon—it’s the perfect entertainment to sell to men and women, whether they like a little comedy, a little romance, or a little action, and it’s unerringly pruned of any possible dull moments. Appealing up-and-comers Chris Pine (Star Trek’s Kirk) and Tom Hardy (Warrior, Inception) are a complementary womanizer/sensitive guy pair; both guys can kill a bunch of folks or destroy a restaurant or almost die and still manage to make a wisecrack right after. This isn’t exactly Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy.

Of course, at least for awhile, you won’t expect a computer to create characters that seem like real people, or for the movie to spark the sorts of feelings one feels about real humans, but a certain type of formulaic humor will not be beyond the capacity of the machine. Most of the humor revolves around the males’ predictable attempts to undermine each other’s attempts at seduction, and one scene involving some private viewed, very expensive art definitely made me chuckle. (How being a CIA agent gives you access to million-dollar paintings, or how one might explain this to a date who thinks he’s a cruise-ship captain, is one of several such situations that go unexplained.)

It’s pretty certain the real CIA didn’t cooperate with this, since none of their agents seems to have any qualms about spying on a coworker or private citizens who happen to be dating the coworker. I longed for the scene in which Reese’s character finds out how much her dates have been lying to and spying on her, but maybe that’s in the sequel. Then again, she herself lies too, at first inventing a boyfriend to impress her ex, then avoiding telling either of two about the other. The most interesting thing for me was watching how the potential sexual complications would be handled. It’s okay for Chris Pine’s character to have a fuck buddy, but is letting Reese Witherspoon sleep with two guys at once acceptable? Hmm.

Actually, a computer didn’t make this film, although you could be forgiven for thinking that McG, which is what the director goes by, is one. He’s best known for the Charlie’s Angels films, and if you can think of something like that with a little more comedy replacing some action, you’ll have an idea of his approach. That is, this is pure Hollywood product, but with a slick competence; it’s silly but not cheesy, and never slow. I suspect it will be appealing, if quickly forgettable, to many people. The action scenes are too choppily edited, though. They’re just okay. Of the actors, Hardy has a certain charm, and Chelsea Handler invests her best-friend character with more personality than the leads.

As for the heroine’s dilemma, you won’t figure out who she winds up with by watching the date scenes—we never really see these characters connect, so any resolution would have made equal sense—but rather by using a simple romantic comedy truism, which is that no character, except a villain, can be allowed to be sad and alone at the end of the movie. Realize this and you can figure out what happens. (Hint: sadly, they don’t end up as a threesome.) In fact, though, you can skip the whole movie.

IMDb link

viewed 2/9/12 at Ritz East [PFS screening] and reviewed 2/9 and 2/10/12

We Bought a Zoo (**3/4)

It’s not often that a title so well sums up the plot. Benjamin Mee, played by Matt Damon, is a real guy who actually did buy a zoo and write a book about it, which has been adapted by Cameron Crowe (Almost Famous, Jerry McGuire) into this very drama. The real Mee was English and was living in France when he decided to buy a zoo. Crowe has unimaginatively turned Mee into an Angeleno and transplanted the zoo to Southern California. Just like the real Mee, the one here is a grieving widower with two children. One is an angry fourteen-year-old boy, the other a seven-year-old girl who spends the entire film being adorable, and it’s probably her lines, not her delivery, that makes her seem just a little too child-actorish. Elle Fanning, the second youngest female in the cast, also spends the entire movie being adorable. Probably the movie is a little too adorable. Damon and Scarlett Johansson, who plays the head zookeeper, are mostly adorable too, but their best scene is the one where they’re in conflict.

Crowe is a filmmaker who favors characters who boldly gesture—his most famous scene might be John Cusack’s holding up a boombox to woo Ione Skye in 1989’s Say Anything—but a more intimate approach may have better suited the material. (The soundtrack, featuring songs by Jónsi, is appropriately quieter, on the whole.)  Or it might be that Crowe makes everything about owning a zoo seem surprisingly unsurprising. Here’s what I learned about animals from the movie—you have to talk to them the right way. Also, someone with experience can tell when a tiger is suffering.

This is a movie with a nice feel to it, but everything feels a little too simplified. The way the movie Mee buys the place is that, having decided that moving would help him get past his grief, he goes house hunting, spots the place the first day, and decides to buy it immediately after seeing how much his daughter likes it, even before seeing the photogenic staff (including Patrick Fugit, barely recognizable from his starring role in Almost Famous) that comes with. This was easily the most transparently false scene. I guess the real story, that Mee carefully researched before buying, seemed dull or complicated, but it seems to me that with a story like this, it’s the odd details that would have made it more compelling. Instead, most of this movie is simply sweet and pleasant, a good family movie if the kids aren’t too young or too cynical.

IMDB link

viewed 12/13/11 at Ritz East [PFS screening] and reviewed 12/13/11

Like Crazy (**1/2)

I suppose in a perfect world everyone would have one all-consuming love affair, one that, much later, will be recalled in a gauzily lit, cineme verité montage of sexual euphoria, aimless conversation, and clear-skinned smiles. Soft piano music will be the soundtrack. It will seem much like the first half hour of this evocative romance from Drake Doremus.

The problem is, it’s never much more than evocative. The young L.A. college sweethearts (Anton Yelchin, Felicity Jones) seem nice enough, but Doremus employs the sloppy shorthand of taste as a proxy for actual character traits. That is, the fact that they both like a certain Paul Simon song (alluded to in the film’s title) doesn’t tell us anything much about these people. Nor does the improvised dialogue, although it’s delivered well. As circumstance requires separation—she has to return to her native England—I had no idea whether I thought they should get back together or not. Or maybe I didn’t care as much as I ought to have.


Doremus’s film also evokes, sometimes effectively, the way feelings fade with separation. As with the separated couple in Going the Distance—a more mainstream, yet actually more substantive, look at a long-distance relationship—technology fails to take the place of being in the same place. The [slight spoiler ahead] his-and-hers side relationships—his with a coworker, hers with a neighbor—that follow seem perfunctory, as if Doremus is trying to balance out things. We never actually see the early stages of these infidelities, where, presumably, the separated lovers try to resist temptation. Or maybe they don’t try. The alternative partners do seem in each case adoring, though they don’t share a taste for Paul Simon and fine whiskey. And taste is important, but, in the case of this tasteful film, isn’t always enough.

IMDB link

viewed 10/20/11 at Annenberg [Philadelphia Film Festival screening]

The Future (**3/4)

I have seen The Future, Miranda July’s second film as writer/director/star…and it begins with a talking cat. Well, a narrating cat. (July is married to Mike Mills, whose concurrently released Beginners features a dog whose thoughts are subtitles. Kismet, I guess.) The cat, never quite seen, narrates in a voice—July’s mousy voice, but imitating the scratchy, child-like voice you would give to a stuffed animal—that one is bound to find adorable or, more likely, be really irritated by. The cat isn’t in the movie enough to make or break the film, but its presence is some guide to July’s sensibility.

Or, try this: First scene (after the cat), July and her costar, Hamish Linklater, playing a couple with their laptops on a couch. Not wishing to get up to get herself a drink or water, she wishes she had a crane to reach the sink. He points out that she’d need to turn on the water. She replies that she could do that with her mind, and he says it’s a shame her only power is something one could do with one’s hand in any case. His power, he tells her, is to be able to stop time. And he does. Or pretends to. So it’s that kind of movie, whatever that is. Not really comical, but playful, or precious if you prefer, the sort of movie you’d expect a performance artist, which July was, to make. The stopping-time bit shows up later.

The plot, such as there is, revolves around the couple’s realization that they are 35, the age in which one’s life becomes set, particularly if you’ve agreed to adopt a cat, which they have, in a month. (This makes slightly more sense in the context of the movie, but I think it is true that 35 is an age in which most people realize that they have more or less taken whatever path they were going to take in life.) So, with a month to go, they set out to change course, and that goes about as well as it does for most people, although each of them makes a new friend. The need to connect is a definite theme.

July’s other film was called Me and You and Everyone We Know, of which I only remember that it was also teetering between quirky and precious and original, and July played another character somewhere in the space between odd-but-believable and too-weird-even-for-Los Angeles. Also, the person I saw it with hated it. I think this may also be a love-or-hate-it affair. I know this because I was right on the fence, as I tend to be with that kind of thing. I liked several scenes, including the quasi-magical realist stuff, although I think The Science of Sleep, to which I can very roughly compare this, did it better. If done right, a film can be quirky in a way that leads to a lot of feeling. This approaches that place, but kind of blows it with an ending that seemed slight to me.

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viewed at Ritz Bourse and reviewed 8/18/11

Beginners (**3/4)

It’s usually films about teens that get described as coming-of-age films, but some people wait longer than that to become their truest selves. Seventy-five-years old Hal (terrific Christopher Plummer) waits until his wife’s death to tell his son Oliver (Ewan McGregor) he’s gay. And, in a line echoing one that director Mike Mills’s father actually said to him, he doesn’t just want to be a homosexual “in theory.” And so he isn’t. This being set in post-homophobia Los Angeles, Hal’s sudden lifestyle change is only an issue insofar as it makes Oliver rethink his dad’s relationship with his mother. (Flashbacks show her too.)

Oliver, for his part, is 38 and also looking for love, but has a history of bailing on relationships. In the film’s other main storyline, set after Hal’s death though told in tandem, he meets a French actress played by Mélanie Laurent (Inglorious Basterds). In a terribly charming “meet cute” scene, she’s both disguised and mute. (It’s a costume party and she has laryngitis.) There are several other charming aspects to the movie, from the use of comic art to show Oliver’s thoughts (he’s an illustrator) to the subtitles showing those of his Jack Russell terrier.

Given the autobiographical nature of Mills’s film, the specificity and authenticity of even the whimsical moments makes sense. Having said that, after the bright beginning, there’s also a certain monotony. I started to notice sounds of saucers on tables and steps on wooden floors, that sort of thing, and the unvaryingly tinkly piano score. I think just altering some of the music to something jauntier would have improved the film a lot. Despite death’s significance as a subject matter, the film seems clearly intended to celebrate life, and yet the tone is a little too precious. That’s an especially subjective criticism, so I feel certain Beginners will be incredibly moving to some and quite dull to others, especially those used to the pace of more familiar Hollywood fare.

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viewed 6/8/11 at Ritz Bourse [PFS screening] and reviewed 6/16/2011

Burlesque (**1/2)

There’s nothing especially wrong with the musical, which represents the film debut of singer Christina Aguilera and the first musical (and first film in seven years) for Cher. But there’s nothing especially good with it either. Aguilera plays Ali, a spunky waitress from Iowa who hightails it out of there to make it in the big city (Los Angeles). With no plan and little money, she insists her way into a job at a club run by motherly but spunky Tess (Cher). She’s befriended by the bartender (Cam Gigandet), who tells her they’re “practically neighbors,” since he’s from Kentucky. Now only in the mind of a Hollywood screenwriter, or someone who’s never left the coasts, are an Iowan and a Kentuckian neighbors. Apparently also Hollywood’s version of Iowa had no singing jobs, but somehow the inexperienced Ali can belt it out like…Christina Aguilera, if only they’d let her on stage. (The real Christina, of course, spent her teen years developing her voice with professionals.)

For my taste, Aguilera has for the most part been more impressive than listenable, but her vocal histrionics are just the thing for the movie’s show-stopping numbers. Much of what she’s doing here isn’t too different from the throwback numbers on her 2006 album Back to Basics. It’s all loud and brassy, but more traditional in the beginning and edging toward techno-pop in the second half. Cher’s two numbers are the only ones I think I’d remember if I heard again. The opening title track, in which she also dances, is a pretty good show tune. Her other song is a Diane Warren power ballad that sounds a lot like other Diane Warren power ballads (“Because You Loved Me,” “How Do I Live,” “Un-break My Heart”). Various pop tunes (everything from Madonna’s “Ray of Light” to Boston’s “More Than a Feeling”) round out the soundtrack, so there’s something for everyone, more or less.

In the non-musical scenes, Aguilera projects the sort of pleasant vacuousness of Jessica Alba, but then, she wasn’t chosen for her acting skills. Cher is still a good actress, even if half of her lines are some variation on, No, I won’t sell this club. Tess is broke, but somehow you know she won’t sell the club, and Ali will save it. The one surprise in the movie is how. Always reliable Stanley Tucci plays a variation of his Devil Wears Prada character, Tess’s faithful and skillful assistant and would-be husband, if only he were straight. Kristin Bell plays the nemesis whose dislike for Ali comes entirely from Ali having made a joke at her expense early in the film.

For a film set in the world of Burlesque, there’s less fancy choreography than you’d think, and less sex too. You can watch with your pre-teen with only occasional, mild embarrassment, and even then it will probably involve the scenes with Ali’s eventual boyfriend. So, all in all, this is a bland affair that serves up a lot of clichés, but it’s not without entertainment value (and eye candy for both sexes). This is no Chicago, and it’s even a notch below Nine, but it will please fans of Aguilera and maybe even fans of musicals. Skeptics of either should look elsewhere.

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viewed 11/17/10 at Ritz East [PFS screening] and reviewed 11/18–12/6/10

The Kids Are All Right (***1/2)

This is my idea of a family comedy, even though I wouldn’t take the kids to see it. Even if the heads of the household are a female couple (Julianne Moore, Annette Bening), and even if the plot is driven by their two teens deciding to look up their sperm-donor dad (Mark Ruffalo), family is the subject. And even though director Lisa Cholodenko (High Art, Laurel Canyon) has taken advantage of the obvious comic potential of the story, the serious scenes work too. (Her cowriter, Stuart Blumberg, managed a similar balance in scripting the underrated Keeping the Faith.)

Cholodenko has dealt with issues of sexuality in her previous movies, and that (and fairly explicity displays of such) is definitely in the mix. The fondness of some lesbians for gay male porn is dealt with as a humorous curiosity, for example. But always the lens is the family dynamic. Bening, whose character in Mother and Child misses the child she gave up for adoption, plays one wearing the shoe on the other foot. She resents her turf being infringed on by a biological parent who hasn’t been around for 18 years. Her partner, Jules, has an entirely different reaction.

There are probably very few hetero couples who can empathize over feminine hygiene products, but most of the other issues that come up here are ones that can come to define any long-term relationship. The issues with the kids—the fifteen-year-old has a best friend who his moms think the wrong sort; his sister is about to leave for college—are familiar too. (The brother-sister relationship isn’t a big part of the movie, but it’s there, which is nice to see.) In other words, it’s kind of a post-gay rights film.

Ruffalo was a good choice for Paul, the male lead. His characteristic expression is a laid-back head bob that seems to add a silent “yeah, man” to everything, and he sounds that way too. Paul runs a locavore-oriented restaurant in sunny southern California, and his easygoing nature is another reason he bonds with Jules. By the end of the film, he becomes a fuller character who both pulls apart and brings together the family. Cholodenko does a nice transition from the early scenes, which are all about the awkwardness of meeting new people and of forced relationships. Things get a little heavier in the second half, but, as with the best comedy-dramas, the funniest scenes are also, frequently, the ones with the greatest emotional impact.

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viewed 7/24/10 at Ritz East and reviewed 7/25–31/10

Cyrus (***1/4)

A love triangle—sort of—among a man, a woman, and her son is the basis for this comedy with John C. Reilly, Marisa Tomei, and Jonah Hill. Reilly is sad-sack divorcé John, who’s surprised to be the object of a flirtatious pick-up, more surprised to find himself falling quickly for her, and perhaps most surprised at the strangely close relationship she has with the adult son.

One gets the impression that she, despite actually being the one to initiate things, has managed to avoid any serious relationship for the last 20 years, which seems unlikely, but both of the odd entanglements, with the son and with the boyfriend, are strangely believable. Jay and Mark Duplass (Baghead), the writing-directing team, like to have the actors improvise a lot. Sometimes, the effect of such improvisation is that the dialogue feels awkward and forced even when it’s funny. This is, to me, often the case with the Christopher Guest films (A Mighty Wind, Best in Show, etc.), for example. But here, everything is very natural. John’s attempts to mingle at the party are awkward, all right, but exactly in the way such attempts might actually be.

The story kind of winds up where I expect, but diverts meanwhile. It’s a tailor-made role for Reilly, a departure for Hill, and another strong character for Tomei.

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viewed 6/8/10 [PFS screening]

Get Him to the Greek (**3/4)

Lifting Russell Brand’s supporting character from Forgetting Sarah Marshall, not that it makes much difference, this zanier sort of comedy also features Jonah Hill as the record-company employee asked to chaperone the wild-and-crazy rock star Aldous Snow from London to Los Angeles.

Brand displays the same gift for odd turns of phrase as in the earlier movie, or indeed in interviews. Lascivious yet playful, he exhibits a swagger that’s neither macho nor metrosexual, but a little of each. Hill plays the straight man trying to keep him from from losing his way in a drug-fueled haze. When Brand gets to exhibit his strange brand of wit, the movie is pretty funny, and I’m guessing a lot of the entertainment value probably comes from the actors. Nicholas Stoller is the same one who directed Forgetting Sarah Marshall, but he’s also credited with the script, it’s not as good as Jason Segel’s for the earlier film. So the wild party scenes—in London, in New York, in Las Vegas—though necessary to the plot, are slightly tedious.

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viewed 2/5/11 [borrowed DVD] and reviewed 2/8/11