By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
The very best Disney animated movies from the 1980s and 1990s breathed new life into old stories; they took the themes and morals from classic tales and made them relevant to contemporary audiences. “Tangled”—a take on the story of Rapunzel—is worthy of the classic Disney films that came before it. Its animation pops with the latest graphics, but “Tangled” also hearkens back to the strong stories, enrapturing songs, and sentimentality of Disney classics.
“Tangled” is the story of the long-lost, long-locked Rapunzel. Rapunzel (Mandy Moore) is born the treasured daughter of the righteous king and queen of a harmonious kingdom. Despite their power and riches, Rapunzel’s parents value their daughter above all else.
But Rapunzel’s value goes beyond her bloodline. While in labor, the queen, in order to survive childbirth, takes a draught containing a magical golden flower. As a result, Rapunzel’s hair is imbued with special magical properties. So long as it is not cut, Rapunzel’s hair has special healing and regenerative powers.
Unfortunately, Rapunzel’s gift elicits envy. As a consequence, a wicked and self-absorbed woman, who knows about the magical flower that gave Rapunzel her powers, finds Rapunzel and kidnaps her in the dead of night. This woman—Mother Gothel (Donna Murphy)—discovers that so long as she remains in contact with Rapunzel’s hair, she remains young. Thus, she imprisons Rapunzel in a hidden tower, never letting her newfound treasure out of her grasp.
After eighteen years of confinement, Rapunzel is naturally eager to stretch her legs a bit. Her wanderlust is stoked by the fact that, once a year on her birthday, Rapunzel can see thousands of glowing lanterns are set off into the distant sky. Little does she know that these lanterns are released in her honor; they are a token of the king and queen’s heartbreak. But Rapunzel’s instincts are sound—the lost princess wants nothing more than to see the place where these lanterns are lit and released. And yet, Mother Gothel refuses to let Rapunzel go.
Just when Rapunzel thinks that all hope of escape is lost, a dashing (but arrogant) marauder named Flynn Ryder (Zachary Levi) finds his way into Rapunzel’s tower while attempting to escape from the authorities. Rapunzel is initially frightened by Flynn, but quickly sees that he is her way out of the tower. The clever and quick-thinking Rapunzel makes Flynn promise to take her to the lanterns in exchange for a piece of treasure. Rapunzel thus escapes from her tower.
But the twisted and tangled saga of Rapunzel only begins there. With the devious Mother Gothel after Rapunzel, and a whole army after Flynn, Rapunzel’s journey home is winding and treacherous. Add Rapunzel’s budding romantic feelings for her guide, and it is easy to see that Rapunzel has her hands full. The young princess must find the courage to abandon the familiar, follow her heart, and chase her dreams.
“Tangled” is delightful and refreshing in nearly all of its facets. This film is reminiscent of “Aladdin” and “Beauty and the Beast” in that fanciful and carefree energy and wondrous romance are added to an already compelling story. The characters are engaging and believable—partly because their flaws are not muted or shunted aside. What’s more, several of the songs (many of which are sung by Mandy Moore) are instant classics.
In general, it is nice to see a return to the style of classic Disney animated movies, which I think serve as a balance to the now-dominant Pixar movies. Given the nature of their complexity and humor, Pixar films (which are great of course) seem to be aimed at older kids and adults while still being appealing to younger children. In contrast, classic Disney movies like “The Jungle Book” and “Aladdin” strike me as just the opposite; they are aimed at younger children, and yet, older kids and adults can also appreciate them. “Tangled” fits into the latter category. The themes and morals of this movie are simple, and the plot taps into basic emotions like envy, fear, and love. I think that this sort of movie is important (especially for children) because it serves as a bridge from more basic concepts and morals to the complex themes and ideas found in other movies.
In all, “Tangled” is entertaining, endearing, and insightful. It is a success on many levels.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
"Hereafter"
By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
Somewhere between the here and now, and the great beyond—between life and death—lies the hereafter. This ethereal realm is a maze of backlit, monochromatic shapes. Much like the world it seeks to capture, Clint Eastwood’s “Hereafter” is neither here nor there. It is neither memorable nor forgettable, neither compelling nor dull, neither good nor bad. In this movie, Eastwood shows his talent, but also shows that the talented sometimes strikeout.
“Hereafter” follows the story of three individuals in the grip of facts and forces beyond the realm of the physical world. George Lonegan (Matt Damon) is a psychic in denial; he sees his ability to communicate with the dead as a curse rather than a gift. Without intending to do so, George jumps into the misty world of the dearly departed just by making physical contact with any other person. Needless to say, George does not experience the touch of another in anything like the same way that a normal person does. Instead of feeling a human connection, George feels a superhuman connection; instead of warmth, he feels only the cold of death.
Marcus (Frankie and George McLaren) has the opposite problem. Marcus is a small boy who loses someone who is very dear to him, and so is all too familiar with the struggles of the present world. Whereas George wants only to be bereft of the dead, Marcus wants nothing more than to be reunited with the lost. Thus, while George runs from the hereafter, Marcus seeks after it.
Marie Lelay (Ceclie de France) is somewhere in the middle. After having an after-death experience, Marie begins to doubt the firm grounding that was once the wellspring of her success. On the one hand, Marie wants to pretend that her mystical experience was reducible to extreme stress and trauma. On the other hand, Marie cannot deny the deeper reality of what she saw. As a result, Marie meets both internal and external conflict; she struggles to make sense of her experience while also learning more about life after death.
In the end, the stories and needs of each of the characters collide. George, Marcus, and Marie find that they can meet each others’ needs in ways that their friends and loved ones cannot. They each have very different needs and very different abilities, but together they are able to make cohesive sense of some of the bigger questions.
“Hereafter” is sometimes very compelling and interesting, but at other times it is painfully cliché. That is to say, this movie is very uneven. At times, director Clint Eastwood puts his genuine talent on display with carefully crafted scenes that are absolutely stirring. Other scenes that have tremendous potential are ruined by trite dialogue or unnecessarily cheesy talk of the supernatural. Still other scenes are too excruciatingly cliché to even get off of the ground. The end result is a movie that is paradoxically both memorable and forgettable.
Thematically, Eastwood is out of his depth. Certain concepts that are at very least interesting are treated with kid gloves and some genuinely deep questions are answered with mind-numbing shallowness. For instance, when Marie asks her boyfriend if he believes in an afterlife, he responds by saying that he does not believe in an afterlife because he figures that, if there were an afterlife, someone would have discovered it already.
Now, I know that the intellectual depth of a movie’s characters is not tied to or constrained by the brains of the writer or director. But really, in a movie that attempts to take the afterlife seriously, that is the answer?
In all, “Hereafter” is a squandered idea.
Coastal View News
Somewhere between the here and now, and the great beyond—between life and death—lies the hereafter. This ethereal realm is a maze of backlit, monochromatic shapes. Much like the world it seeks to capture, Clint Eastwood’s “Hereafter” is neither here nor there. It is neither memorable nor forgettable, neither compelling nor dull, neither good nor bad. In this movie, Eastwood shows his talent, but also shows that the talented sometimes strikeout.
“Hereafter” follows the story of three individuals in the grip of facts and forces beyond the realm of the physical world. George Lonegan (Matt Damon) is a psychic in denial; he sees his ability to communicate with the dead as a curse rather than a gift. Without intending to do so, George jumps into the misty world of the dearly departed just by making physical contact with any other person. Needless to say, George does not experience the touch of another in anything like the same way that a normal person does. Instead of feeling a human connection, George feels a superhuman connection; instead of warmth, he feels only the cold of death.
Marcus (Frankie and George McLaren) has the opposite problem. Marcus is a small boy who loses someone who is very dear to him, and so is all too familiar with the struggles of the present world. Whereas George wants only to be bereft of the dead, Marcus wants nothing more than to be reunited with the lost. Thus, while George runs from the hereafter, Marcus seeks after it.
Marie Lelay (Ceclie de France) is somewhere in the middle. After having an after-death experience, Marie begins to doubt the firm grounding that was once the wellspring of her success. On the one hand, Marie wants to pretend that her mystical experience was reducible to extreme stress and trauma. On the other hand, Marie cannot deny the deeper reality of what she saw. As a result, Marie meets both internal and external conflict; she struggles to make sense of her experience while also learning more about life after death.
In the end, the stories and needs of each of the characters collide. George, Marcus, and Marie find that they can meet each others’ needs in ways that their friends and loved ones cannot. They each have very different needs and very different abilities, but together they are able to make cohesive sense of some of the bigger questions.
“Hereafter” is sometimes very compelling and interesting, but at other times it is painfully cliché. That is to say, this movie is very uneven. At times, director Clint Eastwood puts his genuine talent on display with carefully crafted scenes that are absolutely stirring. Other scenes that have tremendous potential are ruined by trite dialogue or unnecessarily cheesy talk of the supernatural. Still other scenes are too excruciatingly cliché to even get off of the ground. The end result is a movie that is paradoxically both memorable and forgettable.
Thematically, Eastwood is out of his depth. Certain concepts that are at very least interesting are treated with kid gloves and some genuinely deep questions are answered with mind-numbing shallowness. For instance, when Marie asks her boyfriend if he believes in an afterlife, he responds by saying that he does not believe in an afterlife because he figures that, if there were an afterlife, someone would have discovered it already.
Now, I know that the intellectual depth of a movie’s characters is not tied to or constrained by the brains of the writer or director. But really, in a movie that attempts to take the afterlife seriously, that is the answer?
In all, “Hereafter” is a squandered idea.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
"The Social Network"
By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
In late 2003, on the storied campus of Harvard University, after a bad breakup and several beers, Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg) began what would eventually become a multi-billion dollar social networking website called ‘Facebook’. Just seven years later, “The Social Network”, a movie concerning history in the making, chronicles the rise of Zuckerberg and Facebook. Its combination of great directing and even greater writing make “The Social Network” a must-see movie—one of the best of the year.
Far from a romantic inception, the spite-driven, alcohol-fueled epiphany that eventually leads to Facebook is at first nothing more than a website that allows students to compare and rate the attractiveness of Harvard’s female population. Zuckerberg thus gets his first taste of the spotlight, as his original idea, base as it is, quickly draws the attention of both the Harvard student population and the university’s administration.
Despite a hateful onslaught from bitter co-eds and angry deans, Zuckerberg’s whim pays dividends, as two popular and well-connected students—twin brothers Cameron and Tyler Winklevoss (Armie Hammer and Josh Pence, respectively)—approach Zuckerberg with a business proposal. The Winklevoss brothers ask Zuckerberg to design a social networking website specifically for the students of Harvard University. Unlike MySpace and other social networking sites, the Winklevoss’ proposal puts a premium on status and exclusivity.
Zuckerberg agrees to work with the Winklevoss brothers, but soon thereafter begins building his own website based on the idea that he was given. With the help of his best friend, Eduardo Saverin (Andrew Garfield), Zuckerberg constructs, tweaks and launches “The Facebook”. The Facebook is an instant success, drawing thousands of hits and requests, and calling for immediate expansion. In near no time, The Facebook is on college campuses across the country and Zuckerberg is the talk of Harvard.
However, the silver lining quickly begins to fade as the Winklevoss storm cloud gathers. Before too long, Zuckerberg finds himself amidst legal turmoil and, worse still, his extremely narrow focus causes his relationship with Saverin to fray. Zuckerberg finds comfort in the encouragement and friendship of Napster creator, Sean Parker (Justin Timberlake), but he quickly discovers that the attainment of a million online friends may have cost him more than one real friend.
“The Social Network” is a delight to watch. The story, the drama, the acting, the writing, the wit and the humor work perfectly in concert to give substance and style to a story in the making. Director David Fincher and writer Aaron Sorkin make a marvelously quirky film, as each scene brims with frenetic imagery and dialogue.
One might not expect it, but it is somehow enthralling to watch Zuckerberg and Saverin “geek out” over immensely complicated bits of code, programs and algorithms, all while jabbering at a rate that outstrips the expressive power of ordinary English. Aaron Sorkin is truly impressive in his ability to maintain the audience’s interest with dialogue that takes place on an extremely technical level and at a very fast pace. Instead of watering complex ideas down to the level of mere mortals, Sorkin embraces esotericism, showing that a topic can be interesting—downright fascinating—even if you don’t understand it.
Jesse Eisenberg fits his smart-aleck role perfectly, and the rest of the cast (including Justin Timberlake) play their parts admirably. “The Social Network” is rich in plot and character development, and has the added virtue of managing to be both synoptic and relevant. We’re just lucky that a friend request is not required for admission.
Coastal View News
In late 2003, on the storied campus of Harvard University, after a bad breakup and several beers, Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg) began what would eventually become a multi-billion dollar social networking website called ‘Facebook’. Just seven years later, “The Social Network”, a movie concerning history in the making, chronicles the rise of Zuckerberg and Facebook. Its combination of great directing and even greater writing make “The Social Network” a must-see movie—one of the best of the year.
Far from a romantic inception, the spite-driven, alcohol-fueled epiphany that eventually leads to Facebook is at first nothing more than a website that allows students to compare and rate the attractiveness of Harvard’s female population. Zuckerberg thus gets his first taste of the spotlight, as his original idea, base as it is, quickly draws the attention of both the Harvard student population and the university’s administration.
Despite a hateful onslaught from bitter co-eds and angry deans, Zuckerberg’s whim pays dividends, as two popular and well-connected students—twin brothers Cameron and Tyler Winklevoss (Armie Hammer and Josh Pence, respectively)—approach Zuckerberg with a business proposal. The Winklevoss brothers ask Zuckerberg to design a social networking website specifically for the students of Harvard University. Unlike MySpace and other social networking sites, the Winklevoss’ proposal puts a premium on status and exclusivity.
Zuckerberg agrees to work with the Winklevoss brothers, but soon thereafter begins building his own website based on the idea that he was given. With the help of his best friend, Eduardo Saverin (Andrew Garfield), Zuckerberg constructs, tweaks and launches “The Facebook”. The Facebook is an instant success, drawing thousands of hits and requests, and calling for immediate expansion. In near no time, The Facebook is on college campuses across the country and Zuckerberg is the talk of Harvard.
However, the silver lining quickly begins to fade as the Winklevoss storm cloud gathers. Before too long, Zuckerberg finds himself amidst legal turmoil and, worse still, his extremely narrow focus causes his relationship with Saverin to fray. Zuckerberg finds comfort in the encouragement and friendship of Napster creator, Sean Parker (Justin Timberlake), but he quickly discovers that the attainment of a million online friends may have cost him more than one real friend.
“The Social Network” is a delight to watch. The story, the drama, the acting, the writing, the wit and the humor work perfectly in concert to give substance and style to a story in the making. Director David Fincher and writer Aaron Sorkin make a marvelously quirky film, as each scene brims with frenetic imagery and dialogue.
One might not expect it, but it is somehow enthralling to watch Zuckerberg and Saverin “geek out” over immensely complicated bits of code, programs and algorithms, all while jabbering at a rate that outstrips the expressive power of ordinary English. Aaron Sorkin is truly impressive in his ability to maintain the audience’s interest with dialogue that takes place on an extremely technical level and at a very fast pace. Instead of watering complex ideas down to the level of mere mortals, Sorkin embraces esotericism, showing that a topic can be interesting—downright fascinating—even if you don’t understand it.
Jesse Eisenberg fits his smart-aleck role perfectly, and the rest of the cast (including Justin Timberlake) play their parts admirably. “The Social Network” is rich in plot and character development, and has the added virtue of managing to be both synoptic and relevant. We’re just lucky that a friend request is not required for admission.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
"Scott Pilgrim vs. the World"
By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
“Scott Pilgrim vs. the World” is a cornucopia of creative impulses. Each scene of this highly innovative indie-nerd film is an eye-popping blend of the familiar and the exotic. Experiencing the effects and techniques employed in this movie is, simply put, a blast. So much so, in fact, that it is easy to blissfully ignore any of this movie’s flaws.
Scott Pilgrim (Michael Cera)—the geeky, twenty-something bass player for the Canadian band, Sex Bob-omb—is nice but naïve. He plays Dance Dance Revolution with as much dexterity and inspiration as he plays his guitar. He wears t-shirts with ironic messages that only die-hard video gamers would understand. He shares a bed with his gay roommate while also dating a high school girl. From the outside looking in, Pilgrim appears to be nothing more than a gentle pedestrian in a world with no sidewalks.
But from the inside looking out (which is the perspective of this movie), Scott Pilgrim is the superhero of his own consciousness. Other characters—both friend and foe—whirl in and out of his waking mind, but this world is somehow his world. He is the center of the universe and the master of his own fate. He earns points for beating bosses, he sustains damage when thwarted and he stoically faces the most epic of dramas.
For most of his life, Pilgrim’s exploits have been limited to the elementary stages of life, through which any newbie could navigate. However, when Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead)—a hip chick worthy of princess status—ambles on screen, Pilgrim quickly realizes that full strength will be required for her notice. In particular, Ramona has seven evil exes with whom Pilgrim must do battle. Only after conquering each bit of fearsome baggage can Pilgrim hope to lay claim to Ramona’s heart.
Pilgrim reluctantly makes his way through Ramona’s exes. Each ex poses a new threat and thus evokes new powers from Pilgrim. For instance, Pilgrim summons uncommon agility and great Kung Foo to defeat Matthew Patel (Satya Bhabha), Ramona’s first kiss. Humility and intelligence are needed to crush Lucas Lee (Chris Evans), Ramona’s rough-and-tumble fling from the past. As Pilgrim conquers each of Ramona’s increasingly intimidating exes, he begins to see an ever so dim light at the end of the tunnel. But before he can win the girl, he must channel even more formidable powers and be willing to lose it all.
“Scott Pilgrim vs. the World” is filled with a constant barrage of videogame themes, cultural icons and fantasy stereotypes. Everything from Zelda to Tekken to Seinfeld is referenced. The audience’s focus is thus bounced around like a pinball, and it is impossible to get set in any particular mindset. Needless to say, viewing this movie is chaotic in a certain way. But fortunately, the chaos fits; it all makes sense; it feels natural. Pilgrim’s consciousness is embellished as if it were all a dream (and who’s to say it isn’t?), but his darting awareness is on pace with any love-struck romantic with an eye toward winning someone over.
The animation and quirky effects of this movie are enough to win an audience over, but there is more to this film than glitter. Michael Cera is, as always, very funny. His understated and awkward persona meshes perfectly with his character. In fact, it is hard to imagine this movie without Cera. It is also interesting to draw parallels between Pilgrim’s fantasy world and what goes on (or is going on) in the real world. The symbolism may have come across as too obvious if it was not shrouded in so many flashes and bangs, but it is intriguing nonetheless.
The story hiding beneath the story is one of this movie’s few flaws. Once all of the fantastic outer layers are peeled back, we see a mundane and confusing narrative that is well short of compelling. However, it is all too easy to shrug one’s shoulders here, as the virtues of “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World” far outweigh its vices.
Coastal View News
“Scott Pilgrim vs. the World” is a cornucopia of creative impulses. Each scene of this highly innovative indie-nerd film is an eye-popping blend of the familiar and the exotic. Experiencing the effects and techniques employed in this movie is, simply put, a blast. So much so, in fact, that it is easy to blissfully ignore any of this movie’s flaws.
Scott Pilgrim (Michael Cera)—the geeky, twenty-something bass player for the Canadian band, Sex Bob-omb—is nice but naïve. He plays Dance Dance Revolution with as much dexterity and inspiration as he plays his guitar. He wears t-shirts with ironic messages that only die-hard video gamers would understand. He shares a bed with his gay roommate while also dating a high school girl. From the outside looking in, Pilgrim appears to be nothing more than a gentle pedestrian in a world with no sidewalks.
But from the inside looking out (which is the perspective of this movie), Scott Pilgrim is the superhero of his own consciousness. Other characters—both friend and foe—whirl in and out of his waking mind, but this world is somehow his world. He is the center of the universe and the master of his own fate. He earns points for beating bosses, he sustains damage when thwarted and he stoically faces the most epic of dramas.
For most of his life, Pilgrim’s exploits have been limited to the elementary stages of life, through which any newbie could navigate. However, when Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead)—a hip chick worthy of princess status—ambles on screen, Pilgrim quickly realizes that full strength will be required for her notice. In particular, Ramona has seven evil exes with whom Pilgrim must do battle. Only after conquering each bit of fearsome baggage can Pilgrim hope to lay claim to Ramona’s heart.
Pilgrim reluctantly makes his way through Ramona’s exes. Each ex poses a new threat and thus evokes new powers from Pilgrim. For instance, Pilgrim summons uncommon agility and great Kung Foo to defeat Matthew Patel (Satya Bhabha), Ramona’s first kiss. Humility and intelligence are needed to crush Lucas Lee (Chris Evans), Ramona’s rough-and-tumble fling from the past. As Pilgrim conquers each of Ramona’s increasingly intimidating exes, he begins to see an ever so dim light at the end of the tunnel. But before he can win the girl, he must channel even more formidable powers and be willing to lose it all.
“Scott Pilgrim vs. the World” is filled with a constant barrage of videogame themes, cultural icons and fantasy stereotypes. Everything from Zelda to Tekken to Seinfeld is referenced. The audience’s focus is thus bounced around like a pinball, and it is impossible to get set in any particular mindset. Needless to say, viewing this movie is chaotic in a certain way. But fortunately, the chaos fits; it all makes sense; it feels natural. Pilgrim’s consciousness is embellished as if it were all a dream (and who’s to say it isn’t?), but his darting awareness is on pace with any love-struck romantic with an eye toward winning someone over.
The animation and quirky effects of this movie are enough to win an audience over, but there is more to this film than glitter. Michael Cera is, as always, very funny. His understated and awkward persona meshes perfectly with his character. In fact, it is hard to imagine this movie without Cera. It is also interesting to draw parallels between Pilgrim’s fantasy world and what goes on (or is going on) in the real world. The symbolism may have come across as too obvious if it was not shrouded in so many flashes and bangs, but it is intriguing nonetheless.
The story hiding beneath the story is one of this movie’s few flaws. Once all of the fantastic outer layers are peeled back, we see a mundane and confusing narrative that is well short of compelling. However, it is all too easy to shrug one’s shoulders here, as the virtues of “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World” far outweigh its vices.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
"Dinner for Schmucks"
By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
There are friends and then there are friends. Some friends are genuine and caring, while others—the merely ‘so-called’ sort—are prone to manipulation and backstabbing. Most people, at some point in their life, have known each kind of friend. But telling the difference—the difference between genuine interest and supercilious game playing—can be a tall task, and an unfair and hurtful one at that. “Dinner for Schmucks” attempts to tap into that drama, and despite fumbling with its material, this movie is worth a laugh or two.
Tim (Paul Rudd) is a promising businessman working at a top financial firm. Like most businessmen, he is ambitious; he wants to do well. However, perhaps unlike what typifies his kind, Tim is also honest and principled; there are some lengths that he will not go to in order to get ahead.
Thus, Tim is ripe for a moral dilemma. After dazzling the higher-ups with an impressive presentation, Tim appears to be on the fast track to a big promotion. But before he can land the job, there is one final step that he must take. He must attend a dinner organized by his boss where each host is responsible for inviting some extraordinarily foolish individual purely for the sardonic enjoyment of the self-important execs who invited them.
True to his more noble self—and at the pleading of his girlfriend, Julie (Stephanie Szostak)—Tim decides that he cannot take part in such cruel behavior. Or, that is what he had decided, until he (literally) runs into the perfect person to invite to the dinner—Barry (Steve Carell). Barry is an eccentric loner whose only friends are the furry mice he stuffs and turns into figurines meant to look like famous people. Barry is just the kind of dope that would surely land Tim the job, and so Tim hesitantly invites him to a dinner for schmucks.
As he has no friends and nothing better to do, Barry is delighted to accept the dinner invitation. However, Barry also interprets the invitation as an offer of full-fledged friendship. As a result, Tim soon finds himself unable to get rid of the overeager and mentally clumsy Barry. Barry’s heart is in the right place, but he cannot help but nose in and ruin just about every aspect of Tim’s life—his home, his job, his health, his relationship with Julie, etc.
As the dinner approaches, Tim frantically attempts to hold the pieces of his life together, all while impressing his boss and swatting away the buzzing gnat that is Barry. This high-wire act forces Tim to choose between being the nice guy who never gets the promotion, and the cut-throat executive who has no real friends.
“Dinner for Schmucks” is better than the previews may suggest, and also better than its absolutely trite story. This modicum of success is largely attributable to the highly loveable leads, Paul Rudd and Steve Carell, as well as to a perhaps even more loveable supporting cast of Zack Galifianakis and Jemaine Clement. This movie relies on individually funny moments—individual lines delivered by funny people—and there are indeed a handful of such moments.
However, “Dinner for Schmucks” has a forgettable story (probably because it feels like an amalgam of so many other movies) and it is way too long. The reason it is way too long has less to do with the number of minutes in the movie and more to do with the tension turned tedium that comes from this movie’s seemingly endless comedy of errors. The slapstick humor and painful mistakes that emanate from Barry are humorously uncomfortable at first, but as time goes on, these mistakes become unbearable to watch. By the end of this movie, one is torn between shouting “I get it already!” and “Tim, would you just shut Barry up already!”
In all, “Dinner for Schmucks” is bearable and even sometimes entertaining. It is the kind of movie that, if you go in with low expectations, you will be pleasantly surprised, but if you go in with high hopes, you are bound to be disappointed.
“Dinner for Schmucks” is rated PG-13 for sequences of crude and sexual content, some partial nudity and language.
Coastal View News
There are friends and then there are friends. Some friends are genuine and caring, while others—the merely ‘so-called’ sort—are prone to manipulation and backstabbing. Most people, at some point in their life, have known each kind of friend. But telling the difference—the difference between genuine interest and supercilious game playing—can be a tall task, and an unfair and hurtful one at that. “Dinner for Schmucks” attempts to tap into that drama, and despite fumbling with its material, this movie is worth a laugh or two.
Tim (Paul Rudd) is a promising businessman working at a top financial firm. Like most businessmen, he is ambitious; he wants to do well. However, perhaps unlike what typifies his kind, Tim is also honest and principled; there are some lengths that he will not go to in order to get ahead.
Thus, Tim is ripe for a moral dilemma. After dazzling the higher-ups with an impressive presentation, Tim appears to be on the fast track to a big promotion. But before he can land the job, there is one final step that he must take. He must attend a dinner organized by his boss where each host is responsible for inviting some extraordinarily foolish individual purely for the sardonic enjoyment of the self-important execs who invited them.
True to his more noble self—and at the pleading of his girlfriend, Julie (Stephanie Szostak)—Tim decides that he cannot take part in such cruel behavior. Or, that is what he had decided, until he (literally) runs into the perfect person to invite to the dinner—Barry (Steve Carell). Barry is an eccentric loner whose only friends are the furry mice he stuffs and turns into figurines meant to look like famous people. Barry is just the kind of dope that would surely land Tim the job, and so Tim hesitantly invites him to a dinner for schmucks.
As he has no friends and nothing better to do, Barry is delighted to accept the dinner invitation. However, Barry also interprets the invitation as an offer of full-fledged friendship. As a result, Tim soon finds himself unable to get rid of the overeager and mentally clumsy Barry. Barry’s heart is in the right place, but he cannot help but nose in and ruin just about every aspect of Tim’s life—his home, his job, his health, his relationship with Julie, etc.
As the dinner approaches, Tim frantically attempts to hold the pieces of his life together, all while impressing his boss and swatting away the buzzing gnat that is Barry. This high-wire act forces Tim to choose between being the nice guy who never gets the promotion, and the cut-throat executive who has no real friends.
“Dinner for Schmucks” is better than the previews may suggest, and also better than its absolutely trite story. This modicum of success is largely attributable to the highly loveable leads, Paul Rudd and Steve Carell, as well as to a perhaps even more loveable supporting cast of Zack Galifianakis and Jemaine Clement. This movie relies on individually funny moments—individual lines delivered by funny people—and there are indeed a handful of such moments.
However, “Dinner for Schmucks” has a forgettable story (probably because it feels like an amalgam of so many other movies) and it is way too long. The reason it is way too long has less to do with the number of minutes in the movie and more to do with the tension turned tedium that comes from this movie’s seemingly endless comedy of errors. The slapstick humor and painful mistakes that emanate from Barry are humorously uncomfortable at first, but as time goes on, these mistakes become unbearable to watch. By the end of this movie, one is torn between shouting “I get it already!” and “Tim, would you just shut Barry up already!”
In all, “Dinner for Schmucks” is bearable and even sometimes entertaining. It is the kind of movie that, if you go in with low expectations, you will be pleasantly surprised, but if you go in with high hopes, you are bound to be disappointed.
“Dinner for Schmucks” is rated PG-13 for sequences of crude and sexual content, some partial nudity and language.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
"Toy Story 3"
By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
Woody, Buzz, Rex, Ham, Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head, Jesse and Slinky Dog—they’re all back. Andy’s famous and motley bunch of toys has returned for one last adventure and to deliver one more thrill for viewers. As ever, with the aide of several hilarious new toys, “Toy Story 3” possesses the characteristic charm that typifies all of Pixar’s movies and the Toy Story series in particular.
In “Toy Story 3”, the plastic denizens of Andy’s bedroom face dreaded separation from their beloved owner as he heads off to college. This is in many ways a toy’s worst nightmare (as we learned in “Toy Story 2”), and basically, there are three possible outcomes—three potential destinies—for each of Andy’s toys: (1) Go to college with Andy, (2) get packed up and thrown in the attic, or (3) get donated to a local daycare. Ultimately, Andy decides to throw Woody (Tome Hanks) in the “College” box and pack up Buzz (Tim Allen), Jesse (Joan Cusack) and the rest of the toys for storage in the attic.
However, when Andy’s mom mistakes the bag of old toys for trash, most of Andy’s toys are left feeling abused in the worst way. Woody does his best to convince his dejected and embittered friends to return home, but before he knows it, the other toys have managed to donate themselves to the glittery carpet and finger-paint-laden plastic furniture of Sunnyside Daycare.
At first glance, Sunnyside appears to be nothing short of toy heaven. Woody and his gang are met by hundreds of friendly faces, including a jolly stuffed bear named Lotso (Ned Beatty) and a debonair Ken doll (Michael Keaton) who, of course, comes with dream mansion included. Lotso is the loving leader of Ken and scores of other toys who are happy and content to never be neglected nor abandoned.
However, the happiness is short lived. Woody heads home, and soon thereafter Lotso shows the rest of the toys that his plush underbelly belies an inner totalitarian spirit. As a result, Andy’s former playthings find themselves trapped and forced to endure the chewing, slobbering and downright destruction that takes place in the toddler section of the daycare.
When Woody learns of his friends’ plight at Sunnyside, he sets off on a rescue mission. With the help of news friends, and at the mercy of new foes, Woody and his friends hatch an unlikely escape plan in an attempt to once again get home to Andy.
The loyalty of these toys to Andy is unconditional and seemingly hard-wired, but through their shared experiences they find themselves committed to each other with nearly as much fealty. When these two loyalties diverge, a conflict naturally arises. Should these toys support Andy to the hilt, abiding by his every wish, or should they put their small community of toys first? Or should they simply look out for number one? These questions get asked over and over again in the Toy Story series. I suppose these are nothing more than the normal problems that arise for plastic playthings in possession of consciousness and rationality. But, oddly enough, in asking what commitments and responsibilities are most pressing for animated bits of plastic and fabric, we are reminded to ask the very same questions of ourselves.
“Toy Story 3” is disappointing in just one trifling respect. That is, the story is nothing new. There is a new setting, new toys and a new ending, but the twists and turns are basically the same. What made “Toy Story 2” so good, in my view, was that it combined all that was clever and intrinsically charming in the first movie with a novel and interesting scenario. “Toy Story 3” did not evolve in this way. Part of me is fine with this; part of me wants for everything to stay the same. But another part of me wishes that, just as Andy grew up and moved to college, this series would have moved on as well.
Nonetheless, this film is as witty and gladdening as any Pixar film. Woody, Buzz and the crew are in top form, and the additions of Ken and Lotso are priceless (after all, what could be more fulfilling, if is toys we are talking about, than finding out what a Ken doll is like when the lights are out?). “Toy Story 3” is also powerful emotionally. As the toys bind together and say goodbye to Andy and us, the audience, this movie is liable to draw as many tears as laughs.
Coastal View News
Woody, Buzz, Rex, Ham, Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head, Jesse and Slinky Dog—they’re all back. Andy’s famous and motley bunch of toys has returned for one last adventure and to deliver one more thrill for viewers. As ever, with the aide of several hilarious new toys, “Toy Story 3” possesses the characteristic charm that typifies all of Pixar’s movies and the Toy Story series in particular.
In “Toy Story 3”, the plastic denizens of Andy’s bedroom face dreaded separation from their beloved owner as he heads off to college. This is in many ways a toy’s worst nightmare (as we learned in “Toy Story 2”), and basically, there are three possible outcomes—three potential destinies—for each of Andy’s toys: (1) Go to college with Andy, (2) get packed up and thrown in the attic, or (3) get donated to a local daycare. Ultimately, Andy decides to throw Woody (Tome Hanks) in the “College” box and pack up Buzz (Tim Allen), Jesse (Joan Cusack) and the rest of the toys for storage in the attic.
However, when Andy’s mom mistakes the bag of old toys for trash, most of Andy’s toys are left feeling abused in the worst way. Woody does his best to convince his dejected and embittered friends to return home, but before he knows it, the other toys have managed to donate themselves to the glittery carpet and finger-paint-laden plastic furniture of Sunnyside Daycare.
At first glance, Sunnyside appears to be nothing short of toy heaven. Woody and his gang are met by hundreds of friendly faces, including a jolly stuffed bear named Lotso (Ned Beatty) and a debonair Ken doll (Michael Keaton) who, of course, comes with dream mansion included. Lotso is the loving leader of Ken and scores of other toys who are happy and content to never be neglected nor abandoned.
However, the happiness is short lived. Woody heads home, and soon thereafter Lotso shows the rest of the toys that his plush underbelly belies an inner totalitarian spirit. As a result, Andy’s former playthings find themselves trapped and forced to endure the chewing, slobbering and downright destruction that takes place in the toddler section of the daycare.
When Woody learns of his friends’ plight at Sunnyside, he sets off on a rescue mission. With the help of news friends, and at the mercy of new foes, Woody and his friends hatch an unlikely escape plan in an attempt to once again get home to Andy.
The loyalty of these toys to Andy is unconditional and seemingly hard-wired, but through their shared experiences they find themselves committed to each other with nearly as much fealty. When these two loyalties diverge, a conflict naturally arises. Should these toys support Andy to the hilt, abiding by his every wish, or should they put their small community of toys first? Or should they simply look out for number one? These questions get asked over and over again in the Toy Story series. I suppose these are nothing more than the normal problems that arise for plastic playthings in possession of consciousness and rationality. But, oddly enough, in asking what commitments and responsibilities are most pressing for animated bits of plastic and fabric, we are reminded to ask the very same questions of ourselves.
“Toy Story 3” is disappointing in just one trifling respect. That is, the story is nothing new. There is a new setting, new toys and a new ending, but the twists and turns are basically the same. What made “Toy Story 2” so good, in my view, was that it combined all that was clever and intrinsically charming in the first movie with a novel and interesting scenario. “Toy Story 3” did not evolve in this way. Part of me is fine with this; part of me wants for everything to stay the same. But another part of me wishes that, just as Andy grew up and moved to college, this series would have moved on as well.
Nonetheless, this film is as witty and gladdening as any Pixar film. Woody, Buzz and the crew are in top form, and the additions of Ken and Lotso are priceless (after all, what could be more fulfilling, if is toys we are talking about, than finding out what a Ken doll is like when the lights are out?). “Toy Story 3” is also powerful emotionally. As the toys bind together and say goodbye to Andy and us, the audience, this movie is liable to draw as many tears as laughs.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
"Exit Through the Gift Shop"
By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
On the surface, “Exit Through the Gift Shop” is a documentary about a failed documentary. At face value, it is a story about an eccentric, industrious, energetic, and perhaps completely talentless man who yet somehow manages to take the art world by storm. But below this narrative veil, “Exit Through the Gift Shop” is really all about art—what it means to make art, what it means to view art, what it means to challenge the definition of art, and most importantly, what it means to be an artist. As it happens, “Exit Through the Gift Shot” is itself a work of art—a masterpiece of documentary filmmaking.
This movie begins and ends with Thierry Guetta, an enigmatic Frenchman who haphazardly transforms himself from an amateur filmmaker and purveyor of overpriced clothing into a controversial street art icon. At the outset—as the owner of a Los Angeles clothing store—Guetta earns a living by selling unremarkable clothes at a remarkable price. In the end—as a street artist named ‘Mr. Brainwash’—Guetta is as entrepreneurial as ever, and even more financially successful. But when the credits roll, what remains unclear is whether art is Geutta’s business, or business his art.
Guetta’s infiltration into the underground art scene is in part the result of an obsession with filming. For Guetta, no moment is too dull, no scene too drab, to be captured on film. Thus, when Guetta discovers that his cousin is a street artist who illegally paints and pastes familiar images of arcade aliens on freeway overpasses, street signs, curbs, etc, he begins to film his cousin’s work as an outlet for his obsession. Conversely, Guetta’s cousin and other street artists find Guetta to be useful as an assistant and lookout guy, and so allow him to tag along, camera in hand.
Over the course of several years, Guetta captures countless street artists on film; yet, one great street artist eludes him: the reclusive British legend, Banksy. Banksy, who is something like the Batman of street art, is famed for his pithy and ingenious artwork at high profile sites in London and around the world. By coincidence, Guetta finally meets Banksy in Los Angeles and manages to earn his trust. Although Banksy refuses to have his true identity revealed on film, he encourages Guetta to turn his video collection into a documentary. Guetta thus begins to edit thousands of hours of unwatched tape in the hopes of making a movie worthy of the great Banksy.
Unfortunately, Guetta’s movie is terrible. It is a buzzing mess. Banksy calls it “unwatchable,” and he realizes that Guetta is more of an obsessive hack than a genuine filmmaker. Nonetheless, Guetta is persistent, and he takes some reserved encouragement from Banksy as a sign that he is destined to be an artist. Guetta consequently adopts the moniker “Mr. Brainwash” and decides to use the clout of his acquaintances in the art community to build up tremendous hype for his own art show. With this show, Guetta seeks the vindication of his artistic abilities. Banksy, on the other hand, maintains that any praise for Guetta’s art says more about the art community (and perhaps more about art) than it does about the quality of Guetta’s work itself.
“Exit Through the Gift Shop” is a complex and beautifully crafted documentary that evokes the kind of thought and discussion that cannot possibly be canvassed here. This film is about a man who is the ultimate audience member; he is the paradigmatic viewer. And yet, this man—Guetta—fails in his attempt to capture the meaning of the art he sees. Interestingly, the creator of “Exit Through the Gift Shop” is none other than Banksy. Thus, the artist becomes the observer—he becomes conscious of his audience; he interprets his audience. In the world of street art—where the relationship between the artist and his or her audience is both critical and dynamic—Banksy has shown that he is capable of taking his craft to the next level, all while remaining anonymous. In making this clever (and hilarious, I might add) film, Banksy has at once become both Batman and the Joker.
Coastal View News
On the surface, “Exit Through the Gift Shop” is a documentary about a failed documentary. At face value, it is a story about an eccentric, industrious, energetic, and perhaps completely talentless man who yet somehow manages to take the art world by storm. But below this narrative veil, “Exit Through the Gift Shop” is really all about art—what it means to make art, what it means to view art, what it means to challenge the definition of art, and most importantly, what it means to be an artist. As it happens, “Exit Through the Gift Shot” is itself a work of art—a masterpiece of documentary filmmaking.
This movie begins and ends with Thierry Guetta, an enigmatic Frenchman who haphazardly transforms himself from an amateur filmmaker and purveyor of overpriced clothing into a controversial street art icon. At the outset—as the owner of a Los Angeles clothing store—Guetta earns a living by selling unremarkable clothes at a remarkable price. In the end—as a street artist named ‘Mr. Brainwash’—Guetta is as entrepreneurial as ever, and even more financially successful. But when the credits roll, what remains unclear is whether art is Geutta’s business, or business his art.
Guetta’s infiltration into the underground art scene is in part the result of an obsession with filming. For Guetta, no moment is too dull, no scene too drab, to be captured on film. Thus, when Guetta discovers that his cousin is a street artist who illegally paints and pastes familiar images of arcade aliens on freeway overpasses, street signs, curbs, etc, he begins to film his cousin’s work as an outlet for his obsession. Conversely, Guetta’s cousin and other street artists find Guetta to be useful as an assistant and lookout guy, and so allow him to tag along, camera in hand.
Over the course of several years, Guetta captures countless street artists on film; yet, one great street artist eludes him: the reclusive British legend, Banksy. Banksy, who is something like the Batman of street art, is famed for his pithy and ingenious artwork at high profile sites in London and around the world. By coincidence, Guetta finally meets Banksy in Los Angeles and manages to earn his trust. Although Banksy refuses to have his true identity revealed on film, he encourages Guetta to turn his video collection into a documentary. Guetta thus begins to edit thousands of hours of unwatched tape in the hopes of making a movie worthy of the great Banksy.
Unfortunately, Guetta’s movie is terrible. It is a buzzing mess. Banksy calls it “unwatchable,” and he realizes that Guetta is more of an obsessive hack than a genuine filmmaker. Nonetheless, Guetta is persistent, and he takes some reserved encouragement from Banksy as a sign that he is destined to be an artist. Guetta consequently adopts the moniker “Mr. Brainwash” and decides to use the clout of his acquaintances in the art community to build up tremendous hype for his own art show. With this show, Guetta seeks the vindication of his artistic abilities. Banksy, on the other hand, maintains that any praise for Guetta’s art says more about the art community (and perhaps more about art) than it does about the quality of Guetta’s work itself.
“Exit Through the Gift Shop” is a complex and beautifully crafted documentary that evokes the kind of thought and discussion that cannot possibly be canvassed here. This film is about a man who is the ultimate audience member; he is the paradigmatic viewer. And yet, this man—Guetta—fails in his attempt to capture the meaning of the art he sees. Interestingly, the creator of “Exit Through the Gift Shop” is none other than Banksy. Thus, the artist becomes the observer—he becomes conscious of his audience; he interprets his audience. In the world of street art—where the relationship between the artist and his or her audience is both critical and dynamic—Banksy has shown that he is capable of taking his craft to the next level, all while remaining anonymous. In making this clever (and hilarious, I might add) film, Banksy has at once become both Batman and the Joker.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
"City Island"
By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
Everybody has secrets. Some are small secrets, such as when Carl covertly plans a trip to South America to surprise Ellie in “UP”, or when Ellie completes the photo album without Carl knowing about it. Then there are bigger secrets, like in “Avatar”, when Jake fails to tell Neytiri that he is actually aiding the U. S. government’s plot to destroy her home; or, in “An Education”, when David withholds the fact that he is married from Jenny.
Much like the characters in all of these recent movies, everybody in “City Island” has secrets, and some of them are bigger than others. However, unlike those films that have successfully captured the unintended and sometimes devastating effects of lies and deception, “City Island” has nothing new to offer. This movie is mostly unoriginal, often poorly acted and, most importantly, it just lacks that certain bounce—that verve—that is so often the saving grace of comedies that center on a dysfunctional family.
Vince Rizzo (Andy Garcia) is a simple, straightforward guy with a thick but down-to-earth New York accent. He was born and raised in City Island, which (believe it or not) is a quaint little fishing village in the Bronx. Vince is a college dropout that struck gold with a job as a prison guard and a vocation as the head of a beautiful family.
But despite his no-nonsense, “what you see is what you get” demeanor, Vince has a few secrets. For example, Vince smokes cigarettes (though, unbeknownst to him, everyone else in his family secretly smokes too). Also, Vince secretly dreams of one day becoming an actor. In fact, Vince takes acting classes at night, but he tells his family that he is just playing poker with the guys.
Vince also has some bigger secrets. For instance, long, long ago, he fathered a child out of wedlock and ran out on the mother. Thus, Vince is the father of an estranged son named Tony (Steven Strait)—a son who Vince finds out happens to be an inmate at his prison. For better or worse, Vince gets Tony released into his custody and brings him home to meet the family. Vince tells his family that Tony is a convict, but neglects to tell them that Tony is his convict, in the most literal sense of ‘his’.
Not surprisingly, Tony has some trust issues. But then again, so does every other member of Vince’s family. Vince’s daughter Vivian (Dominik Garcia-Lorido) only pretends to be a college student. In reality, Vivian is a stripper. Vince Jr. (Ezra Miller), a skinny, sarcastic high schooler, is hiding a secret sexual fetish for feeding mountains of food to obese women. And Joyce (Julianna Margulies), Vince’s wife, is attempting to suppress (or maybe just mask) her unbearable romantic attraction to Tony, who is, of course, her husband’s son.
As all of the secrets eventually come out and the shouting reaches a fever pitch, Tony ends up looking like the most normal, most well adjusted, member of the Rizzo household. With a little prodding from convict, the family learns that it must fess up or break up, even when spilling the beans turns out to be more difficult than one might have imagined.
“City Island” is rigidly formulaic, and thus, just as day follows the night, this story follows many movies before it with the same tired and predictable plot. Andy Garcia does an adequate job playing a Joe Shmo New Yorker, but every other performance is spotty at best. The result is sometimes funny, but mostly awkward.
However, I should not pretend that this movie is never entertaining. After all, it is hard not to be entertained when the threads of countless webs of deceit all weave together. But, in all, this movie feels like a cheap thrill. It leaves you empty and a bit nauseous, like the slightly sick feeling one gets when riding a carnival ride that just spins you around and around and around.
Coastal View News
Everybody has secrets. Some are small secrets, such as when Carl covertly plans a trip to South America to surprise Ellie in “UP”, or when Ellie completes the photo album without Carl knowing about it. Then there are bigger secrets, like in “Avatar”, when Jake fails to tell Neytiri that he is actually aiding the U. S. government’s plot to destroy her home; or, in “An Education”, when David withholds the fact that he is married from Jenny.
Much like the characters in all of these recent movies, everybody in “City Island” has secrets, and some of them are bigger than others. However, unlike those films that have successfully captured the unintended and sometimes devastating effects of lies and deception, “City Island” has nothing new to offer. This movie is mostly unoriginal, often poorly acted and, most importantly, it just lacks that certain bounce—that verve—that is so often the saving grace of comedies that center on a dysfunctional family.
Vince Rizzo (Andy Garcia) is a simple, straightforward guy with a thick but down-to-earth New York accent. He was born and raised in City Island, which (believe it or not) is a quaint little fishing village in the Bronx. Vince is a college dropout that struck gold with a job as a prison guard and a vocation as the head of a beautiful family.
But despite his no-nonsense, “what you see is what you get” demeanor, Vince has a few secrets. For example, Vince smokes cigarettes (though, unbeknownst to him, everyone else in his family secretly smokes too). Also, Vince secretly dreams of one day becoming an actor. In fact, Vince takes acting classes at night, but he tells his family that he is just playing poker with the guys.
Vince also has some bigger secrets. For instance, long, long ago, he fathered a child out of wedlock and ran out on the mother. Thus, Vince is the father of an estranged son named Tony (Steven Strait)—a son who Vince finds out happens to be an inmate at his prison. For better or worse, Vince gets Tony released into his custody and brings him home to meet the family. Vince tells his family that Tony is a convict, but neglects to tell them that Tony is his convict, in the most literal sense of ‘his’.
Not surprisingly, Tony has some trust issues. But then again, so does every other member of Vince’s family. Vince’s daughter Vivian (Dominik Garcia-Lorido) only pretends to be a college student. In reality, Vivian is a stripper. Vince Jr. (Ezra Miller), a skinny, sarcastic high schooler, is hiding a secret sexual fetish for feeding mountains of food to obese women. And Joyce (Julianna Margulies), Vince’s wife, is attempting to suppress (or maybe just mask) her unbearable romantic attraction to Tony, who is, of course, her husband’s son.
As all of the secrets eventually come out and the shouting reaches a fever pitch, Tony ends up looking like the most normal, most well adjusted, member of the Rizzo household. With a little prodding from convict, the family learns that it must fess up or break up, even when spilling the beans turns out to be more difficult than one might have imagined.
“City Island” is rigidly formulaic, and thus, just as day follows the night, this story follows many movies before it with the same tired and predictable plot. Andy Garcia does an adequate job playing a Joe Shmo New Yorker, but every other performance is spotty at best. The result is sometimes funny, but mostly awkward.
However, I should not pretend that this movie is never entertaining. After all, it is hard not to be entertained when the threads of countless webs of deceit all weave together. But, in all, this movie feels like a cheap thrill. It leaves you empty and a bit nauseous, like the slightly sick feeling one gets when riding a carnival ride that just spins you around and around and around.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
"How to Train Your Dragon"
By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
For some unknown or inexplicable reason, certain people just don’t have any luck. Through no fault of their own, these people simply have to put up with a lot more than others. They work hard but still get fired. They buy roses and giant stuffed animals for Valentine’s Day, only to be broken up with before the flowers are in a vase. However, these people—this unfortunate lot—can at least be grateful in knowing that things could be worse. For instance, they could have dragons chasing them around town on a regular basis. They could have fire nipping at their heals as they attempt to elude those giant winged reptiles.
This is just the kind of thing that the villagers in “How to Train Your Dragon” have to put up with. Luckily, these hardships and their playing out are anything but painful from the audience’s perspective. With the help of great 3-D animation and a fantastic score, “How to Train Your Dragon” more than compensates for its hackneyed plot structure.
The town in which this story is set is a small fishing village. This is a cold, stony, rainy kind of place—the kind of place that could only a thick and hardy kind of people could inhabit. And as if perpetual rain mixed with regular hail were not enough, from time to time, dragons of all shapes and sizes swoop down from the skies; they gobble up sheep and fish, burn houses and barns, and terrorize the locals.
These are the hazards that come with being a Viking. Thus, chief among the many virtues prized by the Vikings of this town is the ability to fight dragons. Stoick (Gerard Butler), an aptly named Viking of giant proportions, is the leader of this village and the best dragon killer in town. His tree-trunk arms and bushy beard reflect the stoutness of his character as well as his merit on the battlefield.
But Stoick has a problem. This problem comes in the form of Stoick’s skinny, stringy, scrawny son, Hiccup (Jay Baruchel). Hiccup wants to fight dragons, but his inability to wield even the merest of battleaxes precludes him from waging war. When the cries of battle rend the night air, Hiccup is either brushed aside or forced indoors.
This routine embarrassment is interrupted one night when Hiccup wanders off during a particularly fierce battle. With the aid of a clever contraption he built, Hiccup manages to shoot down the most dreaded of all dragons, the Night Fury. When Hiccup finds the trapped and injured dragon deep in the woods, he is given the opportunity to become a Viking hero. However, after looking into the eyes of this helpless dragon, Hiccup cannot kill it. Instead, he frees the dragon and in doing so earns the trust of his former foe.
With the villagers none the wiser, Hiccup befriends the dragon (which he names “Toothless”) and nurses it back to health. Toothless, who once seemed to be the devil incarnate, now looks like nothing more than a playful pet—some sort of overgrown Boston Terrier.
However, as time passes, the unfortunate implications of Hiccup’s extracurricular activities become evident. Hiccup must ultimately choose between the acceptance of his people on the one hand and the wellbeing of his new best friend on the other. Hiccup must either find a way to foster harmony between the Vikings and the dragons, or he must watch all those he loves perish.
“How to Train Your Dragon” has a very familiar plotline: Outcast finds unlikely friend. Friend helps outcast earn the respect of others. Others find out about friend. Outcast once again becomes an outcast. Outcast saves the day and unites his friend and others. Nothing new here. Luckily, this movie breathes new life into a tired plot. This is in large part because the animation is breathtaking (finally an animated movie shows what 3-D technology can do!) and the music is wonderful.
The characters in this movie are also endearing, and the story moves at just the right pace. The final battle scene, I am a little embarrassed to admit, sent chills down my spine. So while “How to Train your Dragon” does not show the ingenuity of Pixar films, it is definitely worth seeing.
Coastal View News
For some unknown or inexplicable reason, certain people just don’t have any luck. Through no fault of their own, these people simply have to put up with a lot more than others. They work hard but still get fired. They buy roses and giant stuffed animals for Valentine’s Day, only to be broken up with before the flowers are in a vase. However, these people—this unfortunate lot—can at least be grateful in knowing that things could be worse. For instance, they could have dragons chasing them around town on a regular basis. They could have fire nipping at their heals as they attempt to elude those giant winged reptiles.
This is just the kind of thing that the villagers in “How to Train Your Dragon” have to put up with. Luckily, these hardships and their playing out are anything but painful from the audience’s perspective. With the help of great 3-D animation and a fantastic score, “How to Train Your Dragon” more than compensates for its hackneyed plot structure.
The town in which this story is set is a small fishing village. This is a cold, stony, rainy kind of place—the kind of place that could only a thick and hardy kind of people could inhabit. And as if perpetual rain mixed with regular hail were not enough, from time to time, dragons of all shapes and sizes swoop down from the skies; they gobble up sheep and fish, burn houses and barns, and terrorize the locals.
These are the hazards that come with being a Viking. Thus, chief among the many virtues prized by the Vikings of this town is the ability to fight dragons. Stoick (Gerard Butler), an aptly named Viking of giant proportions, is the leader of this village and the best dragon killer in town. His tree-trunk arms and bushy beard reflect the stoutness of his character as well as his merit on the battlefield.
But Stoick has a problem. This problem comes in the form of Stoick’s skinny, stringy, scrawny son, Hiccup (Jay Baruchel). Hiccup wants to fight dragons, but his inability to wield even the merest of battleaxes precludes him from waging war. When the cries of battle rend the night air, Hiccup is either brushed aside or forced indoors.
This routine embarrassment is interrupted one night when Hiccup wanders off during a particularly fierce battle. With the aid of a clever contraption he built, Hiccup manages to shoot down the most dreaded of all dragons, the Night Fury. When Hiccup finds the trapped and injured dragon deep in the woods, he is given the opportunity to become a Viking hero. However, after looking into the eyes of this helpless dragon, Hiccup cannot kill it. Instead, he frees the dragon and in doing so earns the trust of his former foe.
With the villagers none the wiser, Hiccup befriends the dragon (which he names “Toothless”) and nurses it back to health. Toothless, who once seemed to be the devil incarnate, now looks like nothing more than a playful pet—some sort of overgrown Boston Terrier.
However, as time passes, the unfortunate implications of Hiccup’s extracurricular activities become evident. Hiccup must ultimately choose between the acceptance of his people on the one hand and the wellbeing of his new best friend on the other. Hiccup must either find a way to foster harmony between the Vikings and the dragons, or he must watch all those he loves perish.
“How to Train Your Dragon” has a very familiar plotline: Outcast finds unlikely friend. Friend helps outcast earn the respect of others. Others find out about friend. Outcast once again becomes an outcast. Outcast saves the day and unites his friend and others. Nothing new here. Luckily, this movie breathes new life into a tired plot. This is in large part because the animation is breathtaking (finally an animated movie shows what 3-D technology can do!) and the music is wonderful.
The characters in this movie are also endearing, and the story moves at just the right pace. The final battle scene, I am a little embarrassed to admit, sent chills down my spine. So while “How to Train your Dragon” does not show the ingenuity of Pixar films, it is definitely worth seeing.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
"The White Ribbon"
By: Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
“The White Ribbon” continues a recent (and wonderfully successful) German penchant for producing dark and disturbing historical dramas while also harkening back to great German films of old. Writer and director, Michael Haneke, who is best know for making “Cache” and “Funny Games”, channels legendary filmmaker Ingmar Bergman in this slow-moving but very intriguing movie about innocence, crime and guilt.
Set in a small German town before the start of World War I, “The White Ribbon” opens with a mystery. While riding into his garden after a long day of work, the town doctor’s horse trips over a nearly invisible wire that has been stretched between two trees. As a result, the doctor (Rainer Bock) is catapulted from his horse and ends up breaking his collarbone. The citizens of the town, who are not used to drama of any kind, are perplexed by this sinister prank. Countless men, women and children are questioned, but no culprit is found.
Amidst the uproar, the concern of the townsfolk is diverted when a local woman is killed while at work in the sawmill. This death appears to be no more than an accident, but the woman’s family is inclined to blame the baron (Ulrich Tukur), who transferred the woman to work at the sawmill after she had sustained an injury.
These tragic events arouse the interest of all the denizens of the sleepy town, but none more so than a group of repressed and ornery children. Parents attempt to corral their kids, but find such a task difficult amidst the uproar caused by injury and death. The town’s pastor (Burghart Klaussner) is particularly concerned with the moral education of his children, and so he punishes misbehavior by making two of his children wear a white ribbon. The white ribbon is intended to remind the bearer of purity and is thereby meant to serve as a deterrent from wrongdoing.
Whether or not the white ribbons make a difference for the pastor’s children, the mischievousness that began with the prank on the doctor reaches a new level. What once seemed to be a series of unrelated incidents begins to look like the concerted work of a single mind. Innocence seems to fade from a once peaceful town. Motivated by outrage, anger and a sense of injustice, many prominent citizens of the town—from the baron to the pastor to the town’s schoolteacher (Christian Friedel)—begin to investigate the crimes. But once again, no culprit is forthcoming. This lack of progress is due in part to the fact that each investigator is preoccupied with his or her own affairs and in part to the fact that each investigator has his or her own distinct suspicions. Amidst uncertainty, the entire town is torn between the desire to bring justice to the culprit and the desire to return to normalcy.
“The White Ribbon” is laced with uncertainty and ambiguity from beginning to end. Possible resolutions are as evanescent for the viewer as they are for the townsfolk. This is a fresh and interesting way to make a movie, and it is a device that has come to characterize Haneke’s work. What makes the lack of certainty in “The White Ribbon” particularly interesting is that it is not simply uncertainty for uncertainty’s sake. That is, its ambiguity is not a mere novelty. By the end of this movie, the audience will not only have considered several possible explanations for the story’s events (as have the various characters in the story); they will have also recognized that each possible scenario comes with its own significance and meaning. Were these crimes the work of a particularly sinful and mean-spirited member of the community? Or were they the result of repression—a reaction to religious indoctrination? Or were they ultimately God’s punishment for the sins of the town?
“The White Ribbon” certainly deserves its Academy Award nominations for Best Cinematography and Best Foreign Film. It is intriguing and beautifully shot. The slow pace, black-and-white cinematography, and weighty themes of this movie are reminiscent of (though not quite on par with) the work of Ingmar Bergman, who is famous for movies like “The Seventh Seal,” “Wild Strawberries” and “Winter’s Light”. This movie is not for those who demand action and entertainment, for this movie has demands of its own. “The White Ribbon” requires patience and meditation. Luckily, this movie is worth the effort.
Coastal View News
“The White Ribbon” continues a recent (and wonderfully successful) German penchant for producing dark and disturbing historical dramas while also harkening back to great German films of old. Writer and director, Michael Haneke, who is best know for making “Cache” and “Funny Games”, channels legendary filmmaker Ingmar Bergman in this slow-moving but very intriguing movie about innocence, crime and guilt.
Set in a small German town before the start of World War I, “The White Ribbon” opens with a mystery. While riding into his garden after a long day of work, the town doctor’s horse trips over a nearly invisible wire that has been stretched between two trees. As a result, the doctor (Rainer Bock) is catapulted from his horse and ends up breaking his collarbone. The citizens of the town, who are not used to drama of any kind, are perplexed by this sinister prank. Countless men, women and children are questioned, but no culprit is found.
Amidst the uproar, the concern of the townsfolk is diverted when a local woman is killed while at work in the sawmill. This death appears to be no more than an accident, but the woman’s family is inclined to blame the baron (Ulrich Tukur), who transferred the woman to work at the sawmill after she had sustained an injury.
These tragic events arouse the interest of all the denizens of the sleepy town, but none more so than a group of repressed and ornery children. Parents attempt to corral their kids, but find such a task difficult amidst the uproar caused by injury and death. The town’s pastor (Burghart Klaussner) is particularly concerned with the moral education of his children, and so he punishes misbehavior by making two of his children wear a white ribbon. The white ribbon is intended to remind the bearer of purity and is thereby meant to serve as a deterrent from wrongdoing.
Whether or not the white ribbons make a difference for the pastor’s children, the mischievousness that began with the prank on the doctor reaches a new level. What once seemed to be a series of unrelated incidents begins to look like the concerted work of a single mind. Innocence seems to fade from a once peaceful town. Motivated by outrage, anger and a sense of injustice, many prominent citizens of the town—from the baron to the pastor to the town’s schoolteacher (Christian Friedel)—begin to investigate the crimes. But once again, no culprit is forthcoming. This lack of progress is due in part to the fact that each investigator is preoccupied with his or her own affairs and in part to the fact that each investigator has his or her own distinct suspicions. Amidst uncertainty, the entire town is torn between the desire to bring justice to the culprit and the desire to return to normalcy.
“The White Ribbon” is laced with uncertainty and ambiguity from beginning to end. Possible resolutions are as evanescent for the viewer as they are for the townsfolk. This is a fresh and interesting way to make a movie, and it is a device that has come to characterize Haneke’s work. What makes the lack of certainty in “The White Ribbon” particularly interesting is that it is not simply uncertainty for uncertainty’s sake. That is, its ambiguity is not a mere novelty. By the end of this movie, the audience will not only have considered several possible explanations for the story’s events (as have the various characters in the story); they will have also recognized that each possible scenario comes with its own significance and meaning. Were these crimes the work of a particularly sinful and mean-spirited member of the community? Or were they the result of repression—a reaction to religious indoctrination? Or were they ultimately God’s punishment for the sins of the town?
“The White Ribbon” certainly deserves its Academy Award nominations for Best Cinematography and Best Foreign Film. It is intriguing and beautifully shot. The slow pace, black-and-white cinematography, and weighty themes of this movie are reminiscent of (though not quite on par with) the work of Ingmar Bergman, who is famous for movies like “The Seventh Seal,” “Wild Strawberries” and “Winter’s Light”. This movie is not for those who demand action and entertainment, for this movie has demands of its own. “The White Ribbon” requires patience and meditation. Luckily, this movie is worth the effort.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
"Crazy Heart"
By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
Jeff Bridges is Bad Blake, and with his help, “Crazy Heart” finds a way to surpass other movies of its kind. “Crazy Heart” does not do substantively more than has already been done, but this movie succeeds insofar as it mirrors a true country song; that is, with a slow pace and words that reverberate long after they have been sung.
Bad Blake (Jeff Bridges) is a real country musician; he isn’t packaged, censored, or gentile. His charm is in his repudiation of all things charming, and his gravelly voice and stubbly beard don’t give due to his name nearly as well as does his lifestyle and demeanor. In short, Bad Blake is made from the stuff of legends.
Unfortunately, even legends age, and unless they can evolve into a new phase of fame, legends die. Bad Blake is no exception. By the outset of “Crazy Heart”, Blake has already made the transition from a country music rock star that strums to the sound of 10,000 screaming fans into a washed-up has-been croaking to the beat of the murmurings and vacuum cleaners at local bowling alleys.
Blake’s agent begs him to write new material—to adjust to the new demands of his art—but Blake is prevented from revamping his career by the strain of countless roadside venues and the wear of too many long nights of heavy drinking. That is, until Jean Craddock drops in for an interview.
Jean Craddock (Maggie Gyllenhaal) is a local newspaper reporter who catches a break when Blake agrees to do an interview with her. However, the real purpose of the interview is obscured by the ever-amorous Blake, who is more interested in wooing Craddock than he is in scoring some local press. After several loosely conducted interviews Craddock begins to get a deeper sense of Blake, both professionally and personally. Despite the fact that Blake has already been married four times and has a reputation as a philanderer, Craddock cannot help but fall in love with the aging icon.
Craddock gives Blake a new verve that shakes him from his musical slumber. The new Bad Blake finds his creativity piqued in the twilight of his career as he strives to be successful while also allowing himself to be tamed by Craddock and her son, Buddy (Jack Nation).
But Blake’s renaissance is not without its tensions. In particular, the aging musician battles an alcohol addiction—one that not only threatens his increasingly fragile health, but also puts strain on his budding relationships. Bad Blake must reform or decline; remake himself or die.
At first, “Crazy Heart” has the feel of musical biography films like “Walk the Line” or “Ray”. This is rather odd, considering that Bad Black is a fictional character, and much of the appeal of musical biography films is in their ability to expose the human side of real-life legends. Nonetheless, Bad Black feels real, and so do his struggles.
Now, I must confess that the appeal of this genre of film is somewhat lost on me. I do not understand what is so intrinsically interesting about aging and washed-up head cases that aimlessly veer towards destruction. So I cannot say much in favor of that aspect of “Crazy Heart”. But what I can say is that Jeff Bridges is utterly fantastic. Bridges sings all of his own songs, for instance, and if he were not every note, strum, and swig of Bad Black in another life, you wouldn’t know it.
The themes in this movie are also interesting. Even if they are a bit clichéd, their artistic delivery gives them new life. Perhaps the most transfixing moment of the whole movie takes place during the closing credits when “The Weary Kind”—the movie’s theme song—is sung by Ryan Bingham. This song’s melody and lyrics perfectly capture the tenor of this movie.
“Your body aches, playin’ your guitar, sweatin’ out the haze. The days and the nights all feel the same. Whisky has been the thorn in your side; it doesn’t forgive … This aint no place for the weary kind. This aint no place to lose your mind. This aint no place to fall behind. Pick up your crazy heart and give it one more try.”
Coastal View News
Jeff Bridges is Bad Blake, and with his help, “Crazy Heart” finds a way to surpass other movies of its kind. “Crazy Heart” does not do substantively more than has already been done, but this movie succeeds insofar as it mirrors a true country song; that is, with a slow pace and words that reverberate long after they have been sung.
Bad Blake (Jeff Bridges) is a real country musician; he isn’t packaged, censored, or gentile. His charm is in his repudiation of all things charming, and his gravelly voice and stubbly beard don’t give due to his name nearly as well as does his lifestyle and demeanor. In short, Bad Blake is made from the stuff of legends.
Unfortunately, even legends age, and unless they can evolve into a new phase of fame, legends die. Bad Blake is no exception. By the outset of “Crazy Heart”, Blake has already made the transition from a country music rock star that strums to the sound of 10,000 screaming fans into a washed-up has-been croaking to the beat of the murmurings and vacuum cleaners at local bowling alleys.
Blake’s agent begs him to write new material—to adjust to the new demands of his art—but Blake is prevented from revamping his career by the strain of countless roadside venues and the wear of too many long nights of heavy drinking. That is, until Jean Craddock drops in for an interview.
Jean Craddock (Maggie Gyllenhaal) is a local newspaper reporter who catches a break when Blake agrees to do an interview with her. However, the real purpose of the interview is obscured by the ever-amorous Blake, who is more interested in wooing Craddock than he is in scoring some local press. After several loosely conducted interviews Craddock begins to get a deeper sense of Blake, both professionally and personally. Despite the fact that Blake has already been married four times and has a reputation as a philanderer, Craddock cannot help but fall in love with the aging icon.
Craddock gives Blake a new verve that shakes him from his musical slumber. The new Bad Blake finds his creativity piqued in the twilight of his career as he strives to be successful while also allowing himself to be tamed by Craddock and her son, Buddy (Jack Nation).
But Blake’s renaissance is not without its tensions. In particular, the aging musician battles an alcohol addiction—one that not only threatens his increasingly fragile health, but also puts strain on his budding relationships. Bad Blake must reform or decline; remake himself or die.
At first, “Crazy Heart” has the feel of musical biography films like “Walk the Line” or “Ray”. This is rather odd, considering that Bad Black is a fictional character, and much of the appeal of musical biography films is in their ability to expose the human side of real-life legends. Nonetheless, Bad Black feels real, and so do his struggles.
Now, I must confess that the appeal of this genre of film is somewhat lost on me. I do not understand what is so intrinsically interesting about aging and washed-up head cases that aimlessly veer towards destruction. So I cannot say much in favor of that aspect of “Crazy Heart”. But what I can say is that Jeff Bridges is utterly fantastic. Bridges sings all of his own songs, for instance, and if he were not every note, strum, and swig of Bad Black in another life, you wouldn’t know it.
The themes in this movie are also interesting. Even if they are a bit clichéd, their artistic delivery gives them new life. Perhaps the most transfixing moment of the whole movie takes place during the closing credits when “The Weary Kind”—the movie’s theme song—is sung by Ryan Bingham. This song’s melody and lyrics perfectly capture the tenor of this movie.
“Your body aches, playin’ your guitar, sweatin’ out the haze. The days and the nights all feel the same. Whisky has been the thorn in your side; it doesn’t forgive … This aint no place for the weary kind. This aint no place to lose your mind. This aint no place to fall behind. Pick up your crazy heart and give it one more try.”
Friday, January 8, 2010
“A Single Man”
By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
In his directorial debut, fashion designer Tom Ford shows a certain cinematic deftness that belies his lack of experience in film. “A Single Man” is a beautifully shot and wonderfully acted movie about George (Colin Firth), an English professor who is coping with the death of his long-time partner, Jim (Matthew Goode). Although the story develops perhaps too slowly—at a snail’s pace, really—the careful attention given to the aesthetic of each moment and each scene of this movie makes “A Single Man” a success.
George is a private, somewhat reserved man who is only brought to life by meaningful interactions with a few people—most notably, Jim. Thus, when Jim dies, George feels alone and in many ways bereft of vitality. The only living person who seems to be of comfort to George is his ex-girlfriend Charley (Julianne Moore); but even their relationship is strained by the fact that Charley is clearly still in love with George. Glimpses of color visit George from time to time, but such chimeras are promptly interrupted by golden yet painful memories of an older, better life. George’s mind and heart live in the past, and hence, have no dwelling in the present. Every moment is misery for George; each passing moment of his existence is more fragile than the one before it.
However, while George seems entirely oblivious to the world, others do their best to shake him from his reveries. Kenny (Nicholas Hoult), a college student enrolled in the class that George teaches, and Carlos (Jon Kortajarena), a male prostitute, take a persistent interest in George, despite his reluctance to form attachments. Kenny and Carlos serve to complicate the ominous plans of George, who cannot decide whether or not life is worth living. He is rendered inert by the past and has given up on the present, and so George has only the prospects of the future to consider. When each passing day is no better or worse than the next, George must ask himself: is the dim hope of tomorrow worth sticking around to see?
“A Single Man” is nothing if not beautifully composed. The fact that Tom Ford is a fashion designer truly shines through in this movie. The chic wardrobe, for example, or the jaunty posture with which Colin Firth walks, makes each scene distinctively hip and teeming with style. What is more, Ford adeptly applies his aesthetic eye to the cinematography of the movie in a way that is often understated but immensely expressive. Tight shots of an actor’s lips or eyes and gentle changes in the tone of the colors reveal more about the characters and the story than do any of the words.
Beyond the look of the movie, the acting is worthy of note. In particular, Colin Firth plays the part of a mourning yet dignified intellectual with the utmost ease. It is somehow easy to believe that Firth must really be George, if ever such a person existed.
If “A Single Man” has a flaw it is that the story lags. In fact, it is probably more accurate to describe this movie as a meditation on the emotional experience of loss rather than as a plot-driven narrative. There are certainly some interesting (and maybe even profound) ideas tossed about here and there, but it is clear that Ford’s primary goal is the achievement of a look or feel, and not the telling of a story or the communication of ideas.
Nonetheless, “A Single Man” is an interesting and gripping film that is truly a unique experience; it is a rather nice accomplishment for Ford in his first movie.
Coastal View News
In his directorial debut, fashion designer Tom Ford shows a certain cinematic deftness that belies his lack of experience in film. “A Single Man” is a beautifully shot and wonderfully acted movie about George (Colin Firth), an English professor who is coping with the death of his long-time partner, Jim (Matthew Goode). Although the story develops perhaps too slowly—at a snail’s pace, really—the careful attention given to the aesthetic of each moment and each scene of this movie makes “A Single Man” a success.
George is a private, somewhat reserved man who is only brought to life by meaningful interactions with a few people—most notably, Jim. Thus, when Jim dies, George feels alone and in many ways bereft of vitality. The only living person who seems to be of comfort to George is his ex-girlfriend Charley (Julianne Moore); but even their relationship is strained by the fact that Charley is clearly still in love with George. Glimpses of color visit George from time to time, but such chimeras are promptly interrupted by golden yet painful memories of an older, better life. George’s mind and heart live in the past, and hence, have no dwelling in the present. Every moment is misery for George; each passing moment of his existence is more fragile than the one before it.
However, while George seems entirely oblivious to the world, others do their best to shake him from his reveries. Kenny (Nicholas Hoult), a college student enrolled in the class that George teaches, and Carlos (Jon Kortajarena), a male prostitute, take a persistent interest in George, despite his reluctance to form attachments. Kenny and Carlos serve to complicate the ominous plans of George, who cannot decide whether or not life is worth living. He is rendered inert by the past and has given up on the present, and so George has only the prospects of the future to consider. When each passing day is no better or worse than the next, George must ask himself: is the dim hope of tomorrow worth sticking around to see?
“A Single Man” is nothing if not beautifully composed. The fact that Tom Ford is a fashion designer truly shines through in this movie. The chic wardrobe, for example, or the jaunty posture with which Colin Firth walks, makes each scene distinctively hip and teeming with style. What is more, Ford adeptly applies his aesthetic eye to the cinematography of the movie in a way that is often understated but immensely expressive. Tight shots of an actor’s lips or eyes and gentle changes in the tone of the colors reveal more about the characters and the story than do any of the words.
Beyond the look of the movie, the acting is worthy of note. In particular, Colin Firth plays the part of a mourning yet dignified intellectual with the utmost ease. It is somehow easy to believe that Firth must really be George, if ever such a person existed.
If “A Single Man” has a flaw it is that the story lags. In fact, it is probably more accurate to describe this movie as a meditation on the emotional experience of loss rather than as a plot-driven narrative. There are certainly some interesting (and maybe even profound) ideas tossed about here and there, but it is clear that Ford’s primary goal is the achievement of a look or feel, and not the telling of a story or the communication of ideas.
Nonetheless, “A Single Man” is an interesting and gripping film that is truly a unique experience; it is a rather nice accomplishment for Ford in his first movie.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)