Love Actually

Perhaps there is no better way to start a movie than with Bill Nighy singing and strutting about to a terrible cover of the sub-par song "Love Is All Around." Here, Nighy is Billy Mack, an aging rock star who likes to poke fun at his manager (Gregory Fisher) and still engage in naughty activities. Nighy is absolutely terrific in the film. His performance of the character makes him seem like he would fit in perfectly with Mick Jagger and David Bowie. Later on, Mack is asked on a radio show about the best intimate partner (to put it mildly) he was ever with. His response: Britney Spears. But then a chuckle. "No," he says, giggling. "She was rubbish." How can one not smile at his performance (and frankly, much of the movie)?  But during the recording session, Mack asks an important question: "This is shit, isn't it?" Indeed, some have asked the same of Love Actually.

I had always planned on writing about Love Actually after reading that it was celebrating its tenth year anniversary this year. But I wasn't expecting there to be such a fierce debate about the movie. There are a variety of passionate opinions about the it, from the Atlantic, NPR, Jezebel, another one from NPR, Mother Jones. As you can see, there is a considerably vocal faction (but not a majority) of critics and audience members who detest the film and there are many who love Love Actually and forever will. So, the tremendously less influential Chris and the Movies has decided to chime in. And so here it is:

We are introduced to a whole host of characters. Emma Thompson is Karen and is married to Harry (Alan Rickman), who soon starts to lust for his new secretary (Heike Makatsch). Karen is a friend of Daniel (Liam Neeson) whose wife lost her battle to cancer and so is now responsible for raising his stepson (Thomas Sangster). There's another story about Jamie (Colin Firth), a writer whose wife cheated on him with his brother, so he moves to France. Rowan Atkinson appears in a role that was originally meant to be a Christmas angel (it will make it a bit easier to understand his character after understanding that). Then there's a wedding--oh, and the Prime Minister (Hugh Grant). Wait, I forget about the sex scene body doubles (Martin Freeman and Joanna Page). As you can see, "Unnecessarily Complicated Actually" or "You Really Don't Need Twenty Stories All Somehow Related to Each Other Actually" could have been suitable titles. You can try and figure out the labyrinth of connections provided by Wikipedia, but I suspect you won't. Why should you? Many of the characters are interesting; their networks are not.

But that is not the major flaw of the film. Instead, its the annoying shift from adorable, sweet, water-in-the-eye inducing material to the inferior drivel. Consider first Hugh Grant's role as David, the Prime Minister of England. This is the fourth time Grant has worked with director Richard Curtis, and here he's as charming as ever. The chemistry between him and his secretary (Martine McCutcheon) is probably the most charming in the film. We even get a sudden dosage of politics when the U.S. President (Billy Bob Thorton) arrives for bilateral talks with the U.K. Thorton's performance is no doubt meant to be a harsh indictment of recent U.S. presidents, a clear hybrid of Bill Clinton's promiscuity and George W. Bush's bullying cowboy approach to foreign policy. But David stands up--he's not going to be anybody's poodle--and he gives a fairly cheesy speech about how great Great Britain is; the corniness nearly marches that of Michael Douglas' speech in The American President. Later in the night, David is offered a time of private (or so he thinks) self-celebration, and busts out doing a dance to "Jump (for My Love)." Again, how can you not smile?

But then consider the story of Daniel and his stepson. Neeson's scene as a grieving husband at his wife's funeral features a perfect moment of acting; with one stare at the ground, he says more than he could in an entire monologue. Indeed, some of the movie's finest moments bring our attention to emotional appeals. The appeal to fear, to jealousy, to embarrassment; emotions of being miserable and of being wronged are all employed here. But the sympathy I felt for Daniel disappeared as his story becomes a bit strange. Are we really to believe that a young boy is suddenly cured of his sadness over his mother's death due to his terrible crush on the school's coolest girl? And did I really watch Liam Neeson pretend to be Leonardo DiCaprio to his stepson's Kate Winslet in Titanic? But Daniel and son are not alone in the weirdness. There's the note card scene--oh, that awful note card scene. How many creepy guys were inspired to do something like that because of this movie? It is likely the worst scene of its kind since John Cusack stood on a car with a boombox.            

If it seems like this review is disorganized, it's because it's a review of a disorganized film. This is certainly a movie that has about three stories too many. They're all cheesily connected somehow ("the first of its kind!" I am inaccurately told by my friends), and it's a bit too much about love. Does every aspect of love need to be covered here? It is too often a sin of modern-day films (and even great old ones like The Red Shoes) to be unable to sustain a film beyond a second act, and that is particularly true with this one. By the end, it tires. There's too much love.

So I hate this movie. Wait, I hate this movie?  Of course not!  It's Love Actually! For all the eye-rolling it inspires, there are just as many really adorable and enjoyable moments here.  It deserves a legacy more than ten years. True, it will be unable to stand in the hall of greats like It's a Wonderful Life, but it at least earns comparisons to The Shop Around the Corner. Its score by Craig Anderson is just about perfect. You may find it too difficult to suspend your disbelief and actually love it, but a little embracing of the absurd will take you a long way. Especially its touching ending, just before the credits. Just about everyone will love that scene. It's the perfect ending to a fine holiday movie.  Even Billy Mack would like it. 

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Wadjda

Haifa al-Monsour's "Wadjda," the first Saudi film to be sent to the Academy Awards for consideration, is an absolutely terrific film. There is quite literally no other film like it. It's filled with terrific performances, like first-time actress Waad Mohammed, who should be considered for an Oscar nomination. She and her fellow young actors put in better performances than most Hollywood adult actors.

Mohammed plays our protagonist, Wadjda. If there is nothing more powerful than an idea whose time has arrived, as Victor Hugo said, then I would add that there is also nothing more powerful than a young child finding her voice and pushing the envelope, particularly when said envelope is Saudi Arabia.  Such is the case with young Wadjda. The film begins with her and her fellow students reciting scripture including a section on patience. They repeat it. If there was ever a land that required copious amounts of such patience, it's the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, and having been a resident here for a little more than two years, I can attest to that.

To give you an example, recently at a train station, I got into a somewhat heated argument with a ticket man because I was wearing shorts and not slacks. Several Saudi women, covered from head to toe in black abayas, watched to my right. I went off to speak with the security guard who smiled, shrugged, and said "mafi mushkala" (no problem) and I was shooed away to the train. It appears that Saudi Arabia has not yet discovered the uniquely human ability to look away at something which offends. Anyway, I waited for the train in anger, until I heard a "hello" several times from my left. There was an adorable young girl in a pink dress, and she smiled when I waved to her.  This girl was willing to smile at something (or someone) quite different, and yet she will likely grow up being taught to be offended at the simplest of things. Girls riding bicycles, perhaps.

This is somewhat the conundrum for young Wadjda. It's obvious from the lectures she receives from her mother and teachers that what she is doing is wrong. So what are the terribly forbidden acts she commits?  Well, for one, she listens to rock (or pop, or something). She sticks up for her mother against a mean driver.  And of course, she really wants a bike. Not only does she want a bike, but she wants to ride it faster than any boy. But she receives no support. "A woman's voice is taboo," according to her teacher. How appropriate it is that Wadjda gets a bit of an epiphany when she sees a bike atop a car, as if it's flying. But there are two obstacles for her in her quest. First, as Saudi Arabia is literally the only country in the world where women are banned from driving, she is prohibited from riding in public. (Recently, the country decreed that it is permissible for women to ride bikes, as long as they wear an abaya while doing so and be accompanied by a male guardian--so how often do you think that's going to happen?) Second, the bike costs about 800 Riyals (about $213).

Wadjda is not afraid to stand up for herself, either. She pokes fun at males, like when she quips to one teenager that even his "money cologne stinks," and to her young friend that she's too cute to be his sister.  (The relationship between them demonstrates a relaxed comfort in showing pre-teen romance in a country that deeply, terribly frowns upon it.) Wadjda almost gets caught in a scandal involving the mutawa, or religious police. (Yes, they seriously exist, and their abhorrent record includes banning hugging, scolding women in public, and even preventing a fire crew from saving girls in a burning school because if they escaped, they wouldn't be covered.) But her main hindrance besides her society is her principal (Ahd Kamel), called "the creature" by two rebellious teenage girls. This woman is fiercely traditionalist and not afraid to show it, running her school with an iron fist. She almost gleefully encourages the ostracizing of some of her sinful students. But while her mother (Reem Abdullah) of course offers Wadjda maternal support, she too is a bit of a purist. She scolds a friend who works at a hospital, one of those rare laissez-faire institutions in the country where men and woman actually talk to each other. Still, the mother-daughter relationship in the movie is heart-warming, and I got a bit choked up at some of the moments between them.

The obvious comparison is to "The Bicycle Thief," but the average moviegoer might be surprised at how entertaining a movie about a young girl obsessing over a bicycle can be. Even the competition for memorizing the Quran is surprisingly tense, without the use of hyperbolic editing or a predictable, manipulative score. You ought to see this film for two reasons: One, you will learn so much about a country that, for better or worse, has been and will continue to be linked to the United States and its allies. Two, it's an incredible film, truly one of the year's best. Its simplicity is matched by its potency, and al-Mansour deserves quite a bit of praise for being able to marry the two. This is one of the great coming-of-age films of our time.    

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The Joy Luck Club

We've been hearing a lot of nostalgia regarding 1993 in film. This year's "12 Years A Slave" is the new "Schindler's List." A.A. Dowd wrote a brilliant article on the visual effects of "Jurassic Park" and the terrible attempts of later films to recreate the visual magic. Perhaps the likely candidacy of Hillary Clinton has reminded some of the documentary "The War Room" about her husband's successful campaign for president, and maybe "Blackfish" reminded you of "Free Willy." We're in between Halloween and Christmas, so of course there's Tim Burton's "The Nightmare Before Christmas." I haven't even mentioned "Groundhog Day," "The Piano," "What's Eating Gilbert Grape," "Tombstone,"  "Mrs. Doubtfire" or "The Fugitive."    

Like the other films, "The Joy Luck Club" is twenty years old this year, and it's as good as or better than some of the ones I mentioned. It's certainly as thought-provoking. I kept thinking about the Hofstede Center's analysis of China's culture. According to the Hofstede Center, China is a society that can be described as masculine--success-oriented and driven--along with acting in the "interests of the group and not necessarily of themselves." Additionally, China is "a society that believes that inequalities amongst people are acceptable." "People should not have aspirations beyond their rank."  Perhaps some of this has changed or is changing, but in 1993 I would guess not so much.  Is the American way so much better? Not necessarily, and you will notice that the U.S. and China share similar numbers in terms of masculinity/femininity, while being so much lower in long-term orientation, implying that American businesses and governments are not pragmatic in their long-term business goals. How shocking. Why is any of this important? Because the characters in Wayne Wang's film deal with these aspects of their cultures. The girls learn to shout in a quiet, traditionalist culture, and it's awesome.

But it's not the provocation of thought that makes "The Joy Luck Club" a great film, but its characters, screenplay, direction, score and other elements that do. At the start of the film, we are introduced to four mothers who meet often for a game of mahjong. After one of their members has passed away, the remaining three invite June, the daughter of the deceased, to play. "So I sat down on the east, where things begin," she tells us, "with my mother's best friends." This is the Joy Luck Club, and its three elderly members are referred to by the younger one as her aunties.  "Their connection with each other had more to do with hope," we are told, "than joy or luck."  The game is sort of a merging of memory; it's here where we begin to see the perspectives of eight women--four young American women and their mothers, immigrants from China.

This is a story of women and their mothers, and so it is as universal a story as possible. Not many things, for example, are as culturally universal as bragging mothers and their competitions for the most talented offspring. Case in point is the first story we are told. Young June (Melanie Chang) is a pianist in training, but she hits a few wrong notes and embarrasses her mother at a recital. A child's worst nightmare--hitting the wrong notes in front of an audience--is only slightly more humiliating than letting her parents down. An argument between the two provokes young June to shout that she wishes she were dead--"like them, the babies you killed in China." From here, we discover along with adult June that her aunties have found those two babies, once thought to be dead but now living in China.  The party which opens our film and we occasionally return to is a going-away party for June, and each of the seven characters gets a turn to tell her own story.

The stories are as equally fascinating as they are diverse. They range from tales of traditional marriage in China to complicated love in America, obedience versus empowerment, and high expectations from Tiger Moms against daughters who yearn for affection. The stories are surprisingly humorous. In one, a young Chinese girl explains to her husband (whom she has never met or even seen) on their wedding day that she prayed so that her husband would not be too old. Upon discovering that he has barely begun puberty, she exclaims that she must have prayed too hard. In another, one of the young ladies is asked by her white partner about her mother's hypothetical reaction to their marriage. Her response: "She'd rather get rectal cancer." The accounts are also rather adult--you might be surprised to see such sexual imagery in watermelon. But they can also be raw at times, with scenes of rape and slight allusions to China's one child policy. They all feature numerous characters, and hardly any is uninteresting.

"The Joy Luck Club" is not exactly the best acted movie in the world. Case in point, Ming-na Wen as June. Wen has an exceptional voice (you may recognize her as the voice of Mulan in the Disney film). But even with the rich material she is given, she doesn't deliver as hoped.  Neither do her three colleagues. The four mothers (Kieu Chinh, Tsai Chin, France Nuyen and Lisa Lu), however, are a joy, as are the child actors. And its screenplay, by Ronald Bass and Amy Tan (the author of the novel), is wonderfully written. I loved its lines, so simple yet so exciting, like one of the mothers telling us that "on that day, I learned to shout"; this is one of the very few movies to really get narration right. It's corny at times, especially towards the end, and its "I see you" moment is only slightly odder than when that line was uttered in "Avatar." Still, this really is a remarkable movie that will likely leave you thinking about for a long time, and surely deserves a spot on any top ten list of 1993.

 

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Blackfish

"And God created great whales."
-Genesis

The whale ate the trainer? This is one of the several responses we hear from 9-1-1 dispatchers in the opening moments. That's a fairly disturbing incident to comprehend. But it's not too far later when we go to James Earl Jones, using his powerful voice to give an introduction for young, new employees at Sea World. With such an awe-inspiring promotion, how can one not forget about the unpredictable behavior (according to whale researchers interviewed) of the great whales? This movie's aim is to ensure that we forget not. The stories in the Gabriela Cowperthwaite-directed documentary "Blackfish" are not tear-inducing like "Free Willy" from twenty years ago or the Oscar-winning documentary "The Cove," but they will nevertheless make you mad as hell.

One example is early on in the film, when we hear stories of capturing whales. One individual looks like Paulo Freire with masculine tattoos, and yet he emotionally explains his role in the capturing. "You understand then what you're doing," he says, as he explains the other orcas surrounding the boats, calling out for the young captured. One whale is named Tilikum. Shoved into a tiny pool, his trainer's cruel methods included food deprivation. The other whales knew that Tilikum was the cause for their lack of food, and so the performers would lock Tilikum in the pool with the other two whales, and the next morning he would be badly bruised. Eventually, Tilikum would be responsible for the death of a performer. The park shut down. Sea World purchased Tilikum. Not simply to perform, but because his sperm is so profitable for them. If you've ever been curious about the retrieving of whale sperm, you're in luck, as the process is seen here. "His semen is worth a lot of money," we are told.

Sea World is evil. That's the message here. Is it unfair? Sea World allegedly had the chance to be interviewed but declined.  We're told by researchers interviewed that whales are very intelligent beings living highly elaborated emotional lives. Science has shown that they can think, and do so quite well, but the fundamental argument regarding animals in such captivity is not, as vegans have told us, whether they can think, but whether they can suffer. In "Blackfish," there is plenty of footage of whales suffering, and the terribly depressing noise they make when their babies are taken from them. But that's only half of the source of anger. The other is directed at Sea World. The obvious comparisons are to previous documentaries, like "The Cove" and "Grizzly Man." "Blackfish" is not as good as either of them. Still, you owe it to yourself to see it.

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Lee Daniels' The Butler

Hollywood has a sad history of dumbing-down movies about race (think of how the Oscars have rewarded movies like "Driving Miss Daisy" instead of "Do the Right Thing"). With one glance at "Lee Daniels' The Butler," you might think this is the case. Instead, we have a film that more or less plays it safe, but ultimately provides a compelling and moving story of bravery and the art of challenging the status quo.

Before I get carried away, I need to say that "Lee Daniels' The Butler" is a movie that will be nominated for everything, and the cast will easily be rewarded. Forest Whitaker has never given us a bad performance, and he continues that streak here as the main character. He plays Cecil Gaines, a successful butler in a hotel who is offered a job as butler to the White House. These are incredible achievements for Gaines, particularly considering that he escaped from a terrible environment headed by malicious crop farmers in Georgia. In his portrayal, Whitaker's performance is everything it needs to be. It's simple when required, yet simultaneously potent. Even small moments, like when he tells President Eisenhower that he did not go to school but instead grew up on a farm, are perfectly delivered. And Whitaker has great support from his other cast members. I'm sure Oprah Winfrey is proud of her extraordinary career on television, but if she had made a career in movies, she would easily be one of the greats. As Cecil's faithful yet bored and frequently drunk wife, she knows exactly the right notes to hit. She is powerful when she needs to, as during the tear-jerking scene in which she sends her son off to college, and humorous as well; what else could bring a smile faster to one's face than Oprah in 70s attire dancing to disco music?

Whereas the heart of this movie is a hard-working man and a witness to history, it's also a story about not only Cecil's troubled relationship with his oldest son, but also his absence in the house. This vacuum provides for a lot of drinking and smoking for Winfrey's character, Gloria, and her vulnerability to a drunk, womanizing neighbor, played by Terrence Howard. David Oyelowo (you might recall him in a very different role in "Rise of the Planet of the Apes") is the oldest son, Louis, who is almost insulted by his father's affection for the presidents he serves (and their, according to Louis, halfhearted and weak measures to push for civil rights). Whitaker is also joined by Lenny Kravitz (one of Daniels' stars in "Precious: Based on the Novel 'Push' by Sapphire") and Cuba Gooding, Jr. (in his best performance in years) as butler colleagues of Cecil's.

I imagine that a lot of the talk before, during, and after the film has centered on the portrayal of the presidents Cecil serves. I, like probably many others, was skeptical.  There was an awkward laugh as Robin Williams first appeared as President Eisenhower, a role that provided him only several scenes and zero (intentional) laughs. But eventually, the audience bought it. But Severus Snape as Ronald Reagan? I adore Alan Rickman as much as everyone else, but perhaps this is the most miscast role. Still, for the most part, the players do an effective job, even if they don't look exactly like the presidents they play.  

The film's politics is not necessarily visualized through the ideologies of the presidents portrayed, but by the criticality of its subject. This is a movie that understands the parallels between then and now, gently reminding its audience that while things have improved, we are not yet to the promised land. At first, it seems that it embraces the dumbed-downness I was worried about. It's somewhat annoying how "Lee Daniels' The Butler" employs the mythos of Americans' perceptions of their presidents: Richard Nixon, played by John Cusack, comes across as slimy and paranoid. John Kennedy, played by James Marsden, is youthful and boyish, while his vice president and successor Lyndon Johnson (Liev Schrieber) gives commands to his aides while on the toilet (and it's Cecil who has to fetch him his glass of prune juice). Ronald Reagan (Rickman) is a kind, grandfatherly man who asks Cecil to mail his letters with money in them to people who write explaining their financial struggles (but there's no mention of how Reagan often cut those struggling people's welfare benefits). So at its core, it seems like it embraces the very "see no evil, hear no evil" philosophy of its protagonist.

But the movie is actually much smarter than that. Screenwriter Danny Strong (who won an Emmy for writing the HBO movie "Game Change" about the 2008 presidential election; you may recognize him as an actor from "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and "Mad Men") deserves credit not only for his creativity (the story is only loosely based on the real-life story of White House butler Eugene Allen) but also his powerful dialogue and characters. In some ways, his screenplay embraces the polite, soft version of history, that radicalism of all kind should be shunned.  But he understands, for example, that there is no such thing as a good segregationist, for if they couldn't be on the right side of some of the simplest moral questions, how could they be right on anything else? Vanessa Redgrave's performance as young Gaines' mean old boss demonstrates this. When Gaines' father is shot, instead of seeking the law and making sure that justice was served, she orders the other black folks to dig a whole and, without hesitating after the gruesome act, assures young Gaines that she's now going to teach him how to "be a house nigger."

So this is not so much a film about politics but a film about history, one which is destined to be played in schools around the country, as it should. Teachers have a responsibility to show this movie to their students. I was a bit disappointed that there weren't more young people in the theater (though it was the second day back to school during the early evening, so I don't blame them for not being at that particular showing). The theater instead was filled with mostly elderly audience members, many of whom whispered to each other as they watched, probably reminiscing about the different historical events seen in the movie. (Say what you will about young whippersnappers in theaters texting, but at least they not only know that it's their phone going off, but they also know the actual procedure to turn them off.)

I haven't even mentioned the wonderful direction of Lee Daniels. With such an ambitious project on his hands with so many elements to juggle, it would be easy for any director to drop the ball. Daniels does not, and provides a worthy follow-up to "Precious." It's one of the year's best movies, and I greatly look forward to his next film.

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The Conjuring

"No animal had ever made such sounds. Neither the lions of East Africa nor the angry bulls. At times, it sounded like a veritable herd of wild beasts orchestrated by Satan had formed a hellish choir."

This quote is from a nun describing the horrible nature of a young South African girl named Clara Germana Cele, who was reportedly possessed by a demon in 1906. When thinking of this summer's "The Conjuring," I have pondered my habitual nature as a person who was raised Catholic to fear the Devil. I can remember crying myself to sleep in the first grade after hearing stories in school of how Satan would pull children by the hair to Hell if they were bad. (Appropriate classroom topic for a first grader?) Supposedly, many of the so-called possessions are explained by science as mental disorders; perhaps this was the case with the young South African girl. But despite the scientific skepticism of exorcisms, why bother being skeptical when it can happen to you?

The above thoughts intrigued me. A lot of the other elements of "The Conjuring," however, did not. Compare this movie to last year's super creepy "The Woman in Black." In terms of terror, there is not much of a comparison. One is scary because it tries to be; the other doesn't try hard enough and then tries too hard. Personally, I get scared rather easily. Dark basements? Terrifying. Shadows? Petrifying. Something under the bed? Would rather not look. So utilizing such features in a movie may be scary, but it's not very impressive or innovative. (Anyone can go "boo!"; it doesn't necessarily make you a horror genius.) As Jonah Hill mocked his exorcist in this summer's "This Is the End," when the demon is being compelled to leave the body, "it's not very compelling."

The film's typical horror story is about a family (led by Lili Taylor and Ron Livingston) who move to a quiet (yet terribly eerie) country home that (you guessed it) experienced grim murders.  The couple and their five girls (Shanley Caswell, Hayley McFarland, Joey King, Mackenzie Foy, and Kyla Deaver) start to experience paranormal activities. They include the youngest girl talking to an imaginary friend, and another girl who sleep walks and bangs her head against a closet door; there's an odd, awful stench and a severe chill when things go wrong. Things start to get much worse. During their first night there, the family dog is murdered. Birds start to fly into the house's walls and break their necks. Someone else is clapping along during their hide-and-clap game. The mother wakes up with bruises, and the girls are positively sure that someone else in the room is abusively pulling their legs during their sleep. 

The activity becomes unbearable, so the family has no choice but to seek demonologists Ed and Lorraine Warren (the real-life couple who investigated the Amityville Horror episode and who are here played by Patrick Wilson and Vera Farminga). The investigators conclude that this ain't no case of sleep paralysis or loud pipes. So they go to the house to begin their investigation and plan. Fairly soon, it becomes an all-hands-on-deck approach, with their assistant (Shannon Kook) and (for no explained reason) a cop (John Brotherton) joining them. This is problem number one that I had with "The Conjuring." Instead of picking one paranormal aspect (a demon, a ghost, a witch), this movie assumes that more is more, so all three are included. I couldn't quite follow the story (and wasn't that motivated to try), but there's something about a Salem witch who burned her baby (I think) and then haunted the house (or maybe the demon haunted it) and told inhabitants to murder people, and then a little creepy boy ran away (or something).

Why bother including so much? Wouldn't it have been more effectively horrifying to simply focus on the witch or the demon or the ghost?    

"The Conjuring," especially as it progresses, seems like a duller version of "The Exorcist," almost like an "Exorcism for Dummies"-type of film, particularly with that annoyingly explanatory dialogue.  "Paranormal Activity," four years ago, was also about helpless victims being possessed by hateful demons, and yet that movie brought freshness and novelty that is unfortunately lacking here in "The Conjuring." To say "The Conjuring" is bad would be inaccurate. The actors do a mostly effective job, even though they're provided with such a lame screenplay with lamer dialogue by Chad and Carey Hayes. Director James Wan should be commended for his ability to more or less be on a role (he is also the director of "Saw" and "Insidious") but criticized for not making a particularly scary movie.  With all due respect to Wan, who is probably America's leading horror filmmaker today, his direction reminded me of the famous story regarding Alfred Hitchcock. Hitchcock claimed that it would be easy for him to make a movie where a group of characters sat around a table and a bomb unexpectedly blew up, thus shocking the audience. But Hitchcock said he would rather direct a movie in which the audience knew there was a bomb under the table, and so the tension was in waiting for it to explode. For Wan's next movie, he should focus on Hitchcock's approach.

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Yeah, Mr. White! Yeah, Season Five!

In attempting to write an article about "Breaking Bad" as a whole, it is much simpler for me to focus on the show's characters. This is especially so because "Breaking Bad" is a show that understands that there are no small roles. I am not exaggerating when I say that there has not been a single character in this series that hasn't been fascinating. Consider one of show's most intriguing characters, Saul Goodman. Played by Bob Odenkirk, the character is a highlight in every scene. A highly unethical lawyer with poor production infomercials, Saul has a plan for Walter and Jessie no matter what bizarre, impossible situation they find themselves in. A comedian who worked with Conan O'Brien and Robert Smigel on "Saturday Night Live," Odenkirk brought necessary comic relief to the show. But if there was any instance of humor, it was usually offset by powerful and dark performances like those from the villains. Tuco Salamanca (Raymond Cruz) and his uncle Hector (Mark Margolis) provided the show with a level of psychotic intensity, and yet they seemed tame compared to Gustavo Fring (played excellently by Giancarlo Esposito). Fring is a small, delicate man, yet one who effortlessly instills fear in virtually anyone (character or audience member).

The show is really not so much about interesting characters but characters caught up in failure. Consider John de Lancie's reoccurring role in season two as the father of Jesse's drug-addicted girlfriend. As an actor, he knew exactly the right notes to hit. Upon seeing his dead daughter, instead of launching out at Jessie and ripping him apart, he simply glances at him for a moment; he's too destroyed to do anything else. His failure to save his daughter has enormous consequences; this is a reoccurring theme in the show. Case in point: Jesse Pinkman, played flawlessly by Aaron Paul.  Like Bryan Cranston's portrayal of Walter White, he is humorous when he needs to, easily slipping into tirades, and is complex and challenged at the same time. He is, as he says, "the bad guy," incapable of not making mistakes. And yet ironically, because he eventually sees the error of his ways, audiences have interpreted him to be the show's moral compass. Vince Gilligan and his fellow makers of "Breaking Bad" understood from the beginning that the show was never about only Walter, but Jesse and Walter.

Is Walter White a good man? Frankly, no, even before he started poisoning children. He's a terrible human being who has made terrible choices, and this should have been evident for most viewers by the end of the first season. But as a character, he's fascinating. It's fortunate for Walter that he discovers his talent for cooking meth because he is such a poor teacher. Constantly autocratic and overly didactic, he not only bores his students but practically bullies them. "Don't bullshit a bullshitter," he mercilessly tells one of them. His mercilessness explodes into his latter incarnation as the meth cook Heisenberg, though the show went a bit far pushing this point in the first part of season five. The evolution of Mr. White from bumbling teacher to meth emperor seemed to help the show lose its novelty and fun earlier. The metamorphosis was necessary, I suppose, but the show also ditched its unique blend of dark humor and grit by subtracting the former. Heisenberg, barking negotiations at rivals, is simply less interesting than Walter White, running scared through the desert in his underwear and gas mask.

But perhaps my favorite character has been Skyler, who utters probably the show's best line: "Someone has to protect this family from the man who protects this family." She is the logical and practical force of the show, analytic when her Nobel Peace Prize-winning husband acts stupidly. But could a person really be that stupid by making that so many stupid mistakes, as Walter has been? (And he's in a show where the character's brother-in-law DEA agent--played perfectly by Dean Norris in perhaps the most loved character of the show--frequently and unwittingly gives away details of the investigations to Walt/Heisenberg.) Believing that a high school chemistry teacher could cook meth to pay for his cancer treatment?  Believable.  The same character turning down free money to treat the cancer from a former college classmate?  Way too far fetched.  But then again, there wouldn't be much of a show if he had, would there?

So here's hoping Gilligan and his crew conclude the show and its terrific characters exceptionally.

Save Walter White

Heisenberg before he cooked meth

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The Heat

"The Heat" embraces a shock-and-awe style of comedy. Melissa McCarthy shows up early in the film loud and proud (and destructive). She is Agent Mullins, a neighborhood cop who is not afraid to sacrifice sugar for the stick, even to the point of throwing phone books at prisoners. I must confess I was terribly annoyed at first. I'm a fan of the f-word and think it's funny, and it can be concluded that most people take some sort of enjoyment from saying it. Say it right now--it feels almost liberating, doesn't it? At a dinner table, I think most people wouldn't mind the occasional f-word drop, but you would be distracted, annoyed, perhaps offended, and a little angry at the unoriginal repetitiveness of uttering such a world. And so many comedians, especially when they realize what kind of a dud their jokes are, resort to the word almost as a fail-safe. It almost always doesn't work. Here, that appears to be the case. McCarthy storms in and drops a dozen curse words. It's a bit shocking at first.

Pretty soon, though, the shock wares off and the awe sets in. I was soon laughing at virtually all of the wild antics of Sandra Bullock and McCarthy. There were probably just as many swear words but twice as many laughs. Mullins at one point mocks another character by saying, "You're giving me beauty advice? Do you even own a fucking mirror?" On paper, it's not much of a line, but it works well when she delivers it. She has a host of others, comparing her partner's breath to that of a dumpster and publicly ridiculing her police chief. She, and likely most of the audience, wonder why Bullock's character wears spanks to, she says, "keep it all together down there."

Paul Feig, director of "Bridesmaids," with a screenplay from Katie Dippold, has done an effective job at guiding the two leads. Bullock plays Agent Ashburn, an FBI agent who gets along with none of her colleagues yet desperately wants a promotion. Her director (Demian Bichir) isn't sure if a promotion is right for her, so he sends her to Boston to take down a drug cartel. It's not a particularly invigorating plot, but who cares? The twists are seen miles away, but much of the humor is not. I can undeniably state that a certain scene involving a man choking and a whole lot of grossness was one which I was not expecting (and one in which I think a majority of audience members turned their eyes away from). As the scene takes place more than an hour into the movie, it's a further reminder that we're in the awe part of the film (even though we are entirely shocked).

It's not simply Bullock and McCarthy who should get all the comedy credit. There are really funny people here and they are used well--they include Dan Bakkedahl, Tom Wilson, Michael McDonald, and Jane Curtain. They're so funny that I almost wished that the McCarthy/Bullock duo could have been downplayed a tad to give the other players a bit more room.  But these two are the stars and they deserve accolades. It reminds me of the famous Bechdel Test, which assesses whether or not women actually are a part of a movie. "Well, that's ridiculous! More propaganda about how women aren't visible in society...blah blah blah. Of course women are in movies!" But this simple test shows how flawed that argument is and how underrepresented women are in movies. It asks three questions: First, are there at least two women in the movie (who have names)? Second, do they talk to each other? And three, do they talk to each other about something other than a man? Now think about how many movies would actually pass this movie? My favorite film ("The Godfather") does not pass this movie. The movie recently named by Sight Sound to be the greatest of all time ("Vertigo") also does not pass. The Best Picture-winner "Argo"? Nope. What about any of the other nominees (which included "Amour," "Django Unchained," and "Lincoln")? No. Since the buddy-cop formula movies of the 1980s, there has never been a buddy-cop movie featuring female leads. It's nice to finally have a movie in which female characters are tougher and smarter (and funnier) than the male characters. And for the record, "The Heat" does technically pass this test, but just barely, as women are still outnumbered by men in the movie. But it's at least a step in the right direction.  

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This Is the End

"This Is the End" is a parody of disaster/horror/apocalypse films in the sense that there is sort of a formula here to be poked fun at. A group of people are stranded when the world is ending and they have to use their talents and abilities to overcome the uniquely challenging environments.  But with "This Is the End," the apocalypse is in LA, the group of people are spoiled Hollywood actors, and their uniquely challenging environment is James Franco's house. The actors here appear as themselves--they are Jay Baruchel, Seth Rogen, James Franco, Danny McBride, Craig Robinson, and Jonah Hill--though of course it could be argued that in a way they are playing characters. (It would be hard to believe that any of them do half of the things they do in this movie.) Their best plan is to gather all the food (which is the kind that mostly wouldn't sustain someone through an apocalypse) and then they argue about who gets the Milky Way.

They theorize what could be causing the mayhem outside (with the consensus eventually forming around the idea that the Book of Revelations is coming true) but spend most of the time doing what you would expect stoned actors to do: stage sequels to some of their hit movies and play with prop guns. There are unlikable jerks who are destined to die, only here they are actually famous people. Emma Watson (also as herself) shows up with an ax, but things go from bad to worse. In many other films, the filmmakers would assume that simply providing a cameo would provoke laughter; this usually doesn't come true. Here, it does, because the actors are actually given something to do. SPOILER ALERT: Most of the cameos feature performers who die early on; actors are people, too, and they can also be victims to the apocalypse. The actors here subtly poke fun at themselves and each other. Hill, as he is praying, introduces himself to God by reminding Him that he's Jonah Hill, "from 'Moneyball.'" McBride teases Rogen's acting ability in "Green Hornet" and then assures them that the Green Goblin (Franco, of course) surely has enough money to help them.  

The film is one of those rare ones that is funny throughout its entirety. Some jokes, as expected, either fall flat or overstay their welcome. For example, I think most will argue that ejaculation is funny. Erotic? Sure. Depressing? At times. But also fairly hysterical. (I'm not the only one who agrees with this, right?) I can't think of many scenes in cinematic history that feature this unique bodily function which don't appeal to our humor. And so McBride and Franco get into a big argument on such a topic, and then it goes on for about another minute. That's not very long, but I think it's fair to say that ejaculation jokes do in fact reach a ceiling (figuratively, of course). Consider the opening monologue between Jay Baruchel and Seth Rogen in a car from the airport. They get into a big argument about eating gluten and whether or not it is healthy and/or necessary. It is reminiscent of that famous discussion about fast food in "Pulp Fiction," so much so that I expected one of them to say something about "gluten with cheese." I thought it was a bad start to the movie, but pretty soon I was wrong. From there, the two smoke weed with a pipe they observe resembles that of Gandolf the Grey's and start mimicking Ian McKellen as if he were a pothead.

This movie is surely one of the funniest experiences I've had at the cinema. The exorcism scene in particular, in which the gang tries to rescue their friend from the grips of Satan, had me practically in tears. To provide further evidence of the lovably sophomoric humor, let me point out that the demon in the movie not only is rather terrifying but also, for no explained reason, incredibly well-endowed--it's hard (no pun intended) not to notice. Spoiler? Hardly, but you should at least have some kind of an idea of the movie you're about to watch. And beyond that, all I can say is that you will very likely laugh a lot.

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The Place Beyond the Pines

"It is the business of the malevolent man to seek to promote what is beneficial to the world and to eliminate what is harmful, and to provide a model for the world.  What benefits he will carry out; what does not benefit men he will leave alone."
-Mozi

Over the pine planes, in Schenectady, New York, is where this story takes place. Avery Cross (Bradley Cooper) is a beat cop and the son of an influential judge. He pursues a criminal, acts in a way that deems him heroic, and, accordingly, should be rewarded with a good outcome. The problem is that his heroic deed is questionable. It leaves him conflicted, and Cooper pulls this off through wordless emotions, not dialogue. Throughout the rest of the film, Cross's outcomes are not necessarily hopeful ones. Director Derek Cianfrance has thought a lot about his "The Place Beyond the Pines," which he claims is inspired by the birth of his son and Jack London's stories.

Even without these thoughts, the film doesn't have to try too hard to capture our attention in its first act. From the first moments we are witness to motorcycle chases and long shots. The first act focuses entirely on Ryan Gosling's side of the story. Gosling is Luke Glanton, a star motorcyclist in need of money to support his family. Unable to find more steady income, he finds that robbing banks suits his unique talents. Pairing up with a local mechanic (Ben Mendelsohn), their plot involves Luke charging into local banks, cursing up a storm, and demanding that the money be stored in his bag.  From there, he darts off on his bike and evades the police. It's a remarkable first act.

The second act is not as sustainable as its predecessor. From here, we see Bradley Cooper as Cross, a young cop with ambition, rising through the ranks and seemingly playing all the right moves. Cooper is very good in this role, and is doing a fine job of continuing his streak after being nominated for a Best Actor Oscar for last year's "Silver Linings Playbook." But the second act is not as sustainable because the story touches on police corruption, something that is not new to cinema goers, most of whom have probably seen "Serpico," "Cop Land," etc. It's true that this is not the main focus of this segment's plot, but it is distracting nonetheless. But then the final forty-five minutes or so of "The Place Beyond the Pines" is when this movie enters its silly season. The story shifts away to the offspring of these two characters, where the idea of consequences is really obvious, but it never makes us want to care. Too often, a movie is really intriguing and entertaining, only to lose its footing as it heads into the final stretch. This is certainly the case with "The Place Beyond the Pines." How I wish we could have had more of Luke and Avery's stories instead of those of the teenagers. If it were not for that final segment, I think this movie had the potential to be one of the year's best.

Ray Liotta's performance as a dirty cop named Deluca has a few genuinely frightening moments that reminded me of his intensity as a performer. There's a Hollywood story alleging that Liotta, in an attempt to convince Martin Scorsese to cast him in "Goodfellas," approached Scorsese one evening. Those around Scorsese thought Liotta was approaching Scorsese to attack him, and that is what sparked Scorsese's interest in him. In one scene, Deluca attempts to lead his crew of corrupted cops into the house of a suspect. She refuses, insisting on the need for a warrant. "You assume I have a warrant," he tells her, "and I'll assume your mother has papers." But the more obvious similarities exist with Ryan Gosling. He's not at the level yet, but his acting here has the image and tenacity of Marlon Brando and James Dean in the 1950s.

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