With “Only God Forgives” Nicolas Winding Refn and Ryan Gosling team up for their second bloody go-round after finding success and acclaim for their 2011 car chase noir “Drive.” The teaming of the pair is a good one – a director with a hyper-stylized eye and a penchant for flourishes of quick bloody violence that would make Sam Peckinpah nod in appreciation; and a laconic actor, enigmatic and bristling, a brooding baby-faced brute, if you will, capable of unspeakable savagery.
In “Drive,” the story was rooted with a true antihero who comes to the aid of the hapless family next door, a simple setup that played out in the darkest recesses of the black and white spectrum. Here, though, there’s not a true right and just corner. Those who seemingly mete out justice by disemboweling others later prove to be morally ambiguous and perhaps even the face of evil. Continue reading →
With Guillermo del Toro’s 3-D visual artistry and the care he’s imbued into every frame of this spectacular homage to the Japanese rubber-suit movies of the ’60s and ‘70s – not to mention a ready and salivating fanboy base – “Pacific Rim” is a $185 million monster mayhem royale that has a fighting chance of winning at the box office and in the hearts of moviegoers.
Del Toro has always been an intricate craftsman. The signs were evident in his quirky first outing, “Cronos” and best showcased in his Spanish Civil War-era films “Pan’s Labyrinth” and “The Devil’s Backbone.” His ventures into larger, more mainstream projects such as “Mimic” never took flight or, like “Hellboy” and its sequel, never forged an audience the way less articulate hero fare such as “The Avengers” have – truly the audience’s loss. But here the Mexican-born auteur with a penchant for horror and sci-fi seems eager to show prospective converts that he belongs, and he takes his shot in a very big way. Continue reading →
“The Way, Way Back” is the kind of summer comedy that throws enough curveballs at you to make what’s old new again. A tad dark around the edges and sophomoric in the middle, it’s a sweetly affecting coming-of-age drama with flourishes of Wes Anderson and even the Farrelly brothers, which should be no surprise; it’s co-written and co-directed by Nat Faxon and Jim Rash, the pair who, along with director Alexander Payne, got an Oscar for penning the droll George Clooney comedy “The Descendants.”
The surprise here is Steve Carell, who plays against his usual big-screen persona as a feckless nice guy and is more like his irritable jerkwater boss on the NBC series “The Office.” His Trent, a middle-aged divorcee, decides to bring his new girlfriend Pam (Toni Collette) down to his summer house on the shore of some idyllic and fictional Massachusetts beach town. (“The Way, Way Back” was filmed in Wareham, Onset and Marshfield.) In tow are Trent’s diva daughter (Zoe Levin) and Pam’s introverted son, Duncan (Liam James). “The Brady Bunch” this is not.
From the onset, Pam feels out of place among all of Trent’s boozing beach buddies and Duncan wanders about an eternal outcast, though he harbors an adoring eye for the slightly sassy girl next door (AnnaSophia Robb) whom he feels is out of his league because she pals around with his prospective stepsister. As the pat vacation has it, Pam cooks, Trent invites his gang over and they all drink until they pass out. On top of all that Trent has a wandering eye and a penchant for belittling Duncan. In short, the adults are the ones behaving badly while away.
Duncan covertly takes up a job at the Water Wizz amusement park, where the other half (townies and the cheap seat vacationers) roll in to find their slice of summer Eden. The wacky park manager (Sam Rockwell) fills in as an unconventional but effective older brother figure and instills Duncan with the necessary self-esteem to approach Susanna (Robb).
Susanna and Duncan are awkward and moving as they try to find a connection and navigate their youthful angst, which is exacerbated by their parents’ dysfunctions and need for alcohol. Pam, as a lonely single mother looking for her chapter two, also affects. Collette, always on her mark, gives a subtle but nuanced performance in the fairly thankless role, and her two younger stars, Robb and James, also shine. Their work here should bear greater fruit down the line, especially Robb, who’s a gifted young actress imbued with a splash of Lolita.
If there’s any shortcoming to the film, it’s that the two first-time directors try to do too much. You can almost imagine their excitement during bull sessions while penning the script, but when it came time to shoot they just didn’t have the impartial eye of an third party to help shape, hone and cut. Ultimately the film settles on Duncan and his quest to find himself and some solace during the summer from Hell, yet it is also about Pam and her desires and the arrogant Trent and his freewheeling beach crowd and their antitheses over at the Water Wizz, which has its own set of zany characters (Maya Rudolph, Faxon and Rash in bit parts) and that’s not even mentioning Trent’s perennial partners in crime Kip (Rob Corddry) and Joan (Amanda Peet) who have truckloads of baggage and closets full of skeletons – and Betty next door (Alison Janney, who pretty much walks off with every scene she’s in), Susana’s mom and a widow, who wakes up making margaritas before breakfast and ridicules her son’s lazy eye openly in public. It’s just too busy, and the rompish silliness over at the Water Wizz sometimes feels like a stilted vignette from the woeful “Grown Ups,” which also was shot in Massachusetts and has a sequel coming out this summer.
“The Way, Way Back,” which refers to the rear-facing seat of Trent’s classic station wagon, has big ambition, lots of heart and a tricky knee.
Zombie apocalypse and anything vampire seems to be the hot ticket out of Hollywood these days. The subtext that we prey on each other and that life is a precious and fragile thing is a piquant notion that gets magnified to its fullest when examining how man comports himself as civilization crumbles.
Sans rules and with limited resources, what would you do? Snatch and grab, help out or hole up doomsday-prepper style?
That’s the special sauce that makes any apocalypse-cum-horror flick grip the road. Real people, supernatural horror, deep shit. George Romero’s seminal “Night of the Living Dead” was more about the dynamics and dissent among a band of survivors barricaded in a farmhouse than it was about the throng of shambling flesh scratching at the walls. Decades later, guys such as Danny Boyle (“28 Days Later”) and Zack Snyder (the 2004 remake of Romero’s “Dawn of the Dead”) got the nifty idea to make the dead move at warp speed. Continue reading →
“This is the End” may be the most meta vanity project ever to come out of Hollywood, where things meta usually don’t fly unless Charlie Kaufman is involved. The film, co-written and co-directed by Seth Rogen, has Rogen playing Seth Rogen, or the asshole extrapolation of himself. James Franco, Jay Baruchel, Craig Robinson, Jonah Hill and Danny McBride all do the same. Baruchel is the out-of-towner visiting Rogen in Los Angeles. Baruchel despises L.A. and just wants to hang out and smoke weed and watch 3-D TV, but Rogen pries him off the couch and drags him to a house party at Franco’s manse.
Pot humor and pop-up party guests such as Rihanna keep the slow-moving premise (Baruchel also hates Hill and is a bit of whining wet noodle to boot) alive, though there are nuggets of WTF humor that snap you out of the stupor, including Michael Cera (yup, the anemic, sweet wimp from “Juno”) doing blow and getting a rim job in the bathroom while sipping an effete cocktail he seems to relish more than the sex act. Continue reading →
Zach Snyder’s always been big on bluster and pizazz but a bit lacking when it comes to the essentials of storytelling. Take “300” or “Sucker Punch,” which made for titillating trailers set to edgy, esoteric rock (Nine Inch Nails’ “Just as you Imagined” layered on clips of the Spartans battling Xerxes in “300” may be the greatest music video/movie trailer of all time), but when it came to holding an audience’s attention for 90 minutes, only fanboys and cultists who dug Gerard Butler’s CGI-enhanced abs and righteous barking, or Babydoll and her bustier-wearing ilk beating down misogynistic ogres, could go the distance – because that was all there was: alluring visuals and sound bites, sans the bite.
One major early steppingstone was the 2004 remake of George Romero’s “Dawn of the Dead,” which featured an eclectic cast (Ving Rhames and Sarah Polley) and zombies that could run at full tilt. Danny Boyle had done that bit before and better with “28 Days Later …” and there’s really no one who can out-shamble Romero in the walking dead genre he pretty much invented. But sure enough, in the maddening, flesh-ripping mayhem, Snyder had carved out his niche as a hyperactive visual stylist. Continue reading →
The second collaboration between writer/director Zal Batmanglij and writer/actress Brit Marling is a lot like their first, “Sound of My Voice,” only flipped on its head. In that thriller Marling played the adored icon of a cult (she alleges to be from the future) that gets infiltrated (or close enough), and in “The East” she plays an espionage expert who infiltrates a cult to thwart their anarchistic activities.
The premise of a wonk working for a private intelligence firm to protect corporations and the like from social terrorists, unscrupulous competitors and till-fleecing insiders is intriguing and builds nicely at the onset. It’s just the mechanics and fruition that get the pink slip. Continue reading →
People say marriages are work, but the reality is that relationships are work and, married or not, they become more work when you add kids to the mix. Such is the situation in which we find Jesse (Ethan Hawke) and Celine (the ever graceful Julie Delpy, who bares all, or most, for her art). It’s now another nine years since they reconnected in Paris in “Before Sunset” and have produced a set of curly-haired twin girls – who put zero strain on the couple, as they are always asleep or being watched by others. But Jesse, as we learn in a mini shocker, also has a preteen son and a problematic ex-wife, and to add to matters Celine has been offered her dream job in Europe. Driving through the Greek countryside on a family getaway, the debate du jour becomes whether Jesse should move to Chicago to be a positive influence on his son, who is going through a rough patch, and should Celine take the job, and, if so, should they collectively move to Europe?
Most people would envy such heavy choices, but this is the third (and perhaps final) episode of Richard Linklater’s “Before” series and another cheeky exercise in endless talk, philosophical what-ifs and passive self-indulgence, which isn’t bad, mind you, it’s just not a real thing for most people. Continue reading →
I like Will Smith, I do, but I can’t say I am liking his choice of films as of late. Sure, the upcoming “Winter’s Tale” has a ton of firepower to it, but Mr. Smith purportedly turned down Django in “Django Unchained” because he felt the role wasn’t a lead. Then there’s that rumored remake of “The Wild Bunch” that has the Peckinpah faithful hearing fingernails on the chalkboard, and now this ill-advised project with M. Night Shyamalan, who’s made exactly one quality film, a few intriguing follow-ups and been on a disastrous slide ever since.
If you’re wondering why the actor, who holds an obvious penchant for sci-fi, would jump in the water with a man on his last breath, the answer is likely his son. “After Earth” is not a Will Smith movie, but a Jaden Smith movie. The young thespian held his own with dad in the underrated and wholly affecting pull-yourself-up drama “The Pursuit of Happyness” and was effective in “The Karate Kid” reboot. But this, this is Jaden’s coming out party, a big-screen bar mitzvah for Papa Smith to declare to the world, “My son is an actor.”
“Francis Ha,” the intriguing and endearing new film from Noah aumbach, is an amiable urban fable about finding one’s self through the most passive aggressive means possible. There’s little action and it’s chock full of fluff, talk, mundane interludes and ennui. Think the French New Wave or “Before Sunrise” and that series’ subsequent installments by Richard Linklater and you’d have the right idea.
Talk is cheap on the big screen, but it’s hard to do it well. The casting and chemistry has to be just right. Linklater seems to be in on the secret, as is Jim Jarmusch, and “My Dinner with Andre” might be the epitome of all the talky, no-action excursions that grip and hold with every syllable. Of course Woody Allen’s scope was much bigger, but his Manhattan classics (“Manhattan” and “Annie Hall”) were perfect synergies of quirky comedy, barbed witticisms, phobia and an undeniable spark with leading lady Diane Keaton. Continue reading →