By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
Of the many animated films that have and will draw hoards of merry moviegoers this holiday season, Wes Anderson’s retro, stop-action movie called “The Fantastic Mr. Fox” may be the only animated film that is a must-see. Nearly every moment of this movie is breathtakingly beautiful and immensely entertaining.
By nature, Mr. Fox (George Clooney) is a daring scavenger—a voracious burglar—who moves quickly and acts on instinct. In other words, Mr. Fox is a wild animal. But like many things that are wild, Mr. Fox has a gentlemanly side to him as well. He is often thoughtful and reflective, and he cares deeply about the welfare of those he loves. So when Mrs. Fox (Meryl Streep) announces that she is pregnant, Mr. Fox agrees to give up his regular practice of raiding the chicken coops of nearby farms. Mr. Fox properly gentrifies; he becomes the kind of fox that is family-oriented. Despite the persisting glint of adventure in his eyes and occasional displays of untamed behavior, Mr. Fox pursues all of the humdrum virtues appropriate to the middle class: a new tree to call home, a stable economic portfolio (as handled by Badger (Bill Murray)), and a good education for his son, Ash (Jason Schwartzman). As is, Mr. Fox’s new life is just satisfying enough to keep him from reacting to the unrest and slightly neutered feeling that inevitably inheres in a wild animal that has been tamed.
However, when he learns of the local success of three ruthless and calculating tycoon farmers, Mr. Fox cannot resist the temptation to revisit the wild, liberated days of old. With an opossum named Kylie (Wally Wolodarsky) as an accomplice, Mr. Fox hatches new schemes to thieve and plunder the ample stocks of the farmers. At first, all goes according to plan. The farmers are unable to protect their products, and the Fox family is richer and happier than ever.
The well conceived plans of Mr. Fox come to an end, though, as the farmers find the Fox home and lay siege to it. Mr. Fox and his family are only able to escape certain death by burrowing deep under ground, and there ensues a point/counterpoint between the furry of the farmers and the wiles of their animal opponents. Each time Mr. Fox and his family and friends (who are also objects of the farmers’ ire) seem to elude the clutches of their foes, new perils await them. In this battle between man and animal, Mr. Fox must learn to balance his instincts and his intelligence—his wildness and his tameness—in order to prove equal to the might and resources of the farmers.
“The Fantastic Mr. Fox” has the same beauty and flare as other of Wes Anderson’s masterstrokes (e.g. “The Royal Tenenbaums”, “The Darjeeling Limited”); however, “The Fantastic Mr. Fox” is somehow alone among Anderson’s films in its appeal with respect to a very wide range of viewers. While Anderson’s “The Royal Tenenbaums”, for example, is surely a work of art, it is also quirky, idiosyncratic—an acquired taste. “The Fantastic Mr. Fox” is also quirky, but its charm is immediate, self-evident and irresistible for anyone save Ebenezer Scrooge. One reason for this universal appeal is the fact that Anderson turns what moviegoers have come to know as grotesque and ugly animation—that is, stop-action animation—into a dancing, vivacious presentation. The artistic execution of this movie approaches the very limits of the medium in which it was created.
What is perhaps even more impressive than the look of this movie is how well Anderson’s signature vernacular translates into the animal world. The language in all of Anderson’s films is characterized by quickness, understated honesty, and a certain existential profundity that has an absurd but unmistakably hilarious quality to it. This quality is somehow enhanced when instantiated in animal dolls. Just imagine a well-dressed and intelligent fox who, while looking deep into the eyes of another such fox, utters in a confessional tone, “The truth about me is, I’m a wild animal,” and then goes on to admit that he is still dealing with what exactly that means. In short, “The Fantastic Mr. Fox” is a masterpiece; the best movie of the season, if not the year.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
"The Men Who Stare at Goats"
By: Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
The mission: to develop the psychic powers of gifted soldiers to a level so great that they are able to stop a goat’s heart just by staring at it or break up cloud formations by merely wishing it to be so. The objective: to bring peace to the world by mentally disarming hostile armies. The movie: “The Men Who Stare at Goats.”
“The Men Who Stare at Goats” is a goofy but clever movie that is fueled by the skillful work of George Clooney, Jeff Bridges, Kevin Spacey and Ewan McGregor. As it is, this film is rather flimsy, but worth a grin and a chuckle for both its situational humor and sardonic plot.
Bob Wilton (Ewan McGregor) is a small-time reporter who is shaken from his suburban reverie when his wife leaves him for his boss. Intent on impressing his wife (or proving that she was wrong), Wilton goes to Iraq to become a real reporter—a wartime correspondent. Unfortunately, Wilton has a hard time breaking into the old boys club that constitutes the Iraq War news troupe, and so he is left feeling as impotent as ever.
However, patience finally avails Wilton, and his big break comes in the form of Lynn Cassady, a leading member of a top secret military organization called ‘The New Earth Army’, which focuses on developing the psychic powers of mentally gifted soldiers. Wilton is grateful for the intriguing story, but finds himself unable to believe the grandiose claims to power attested to by Cassady, for the psychic cohort described by Cassady seems less like a group of dedicated geniuses and more like a group of hippie crackpots. The soldiers of the New Earth Army do not conduct scientific experiments on brains or study the psychological makeup of combatants; instead, these men prance with flowers, do yoga, pray to the earth for guidance, and stare at goats.
Despite his skepticism, Wilton goes along for the ride with an open mind. He and Cassady travel deep into Iraq—one looking for a story and the other looking to accomplish a mission. Wilton quickly learns that, with Cassady, there is a very fine line between ineptitude and genius, for Cassady gets the pair in and out of trouble with what is either stupidity, psychic foresight or dumb luck. Yet, the further into the story Wilton gets, the more he believes in the efficacy of psychic powers. He believes that Cassady and the rest of the New Earth Army are capable of doing amazing things (although he is unsure what, exactly, is amazing about those things), and he also comes to believe that he, a mere reporter, is likewise psychically gifted.
But in the end, it is not their mental prowess that leads these men closer to their objective. Rather, it is their outlook, their way of life, that makes the difference. It turns out that working on their own selves—and yes, through yoga and prancing—is the first critical step towards ridding the world of violence.
The way that “The Men Who Stare at Goats” combines the grim nature of warfare with the lighthearted attitude of hippie culture is both funny and clever. However, that this movie is worth more than a grin is due to the work of George Clooney and Jeff Bridges (who plays the founder of the New Earth Army), who fill their respective roles with twice the genius of the characters they play.
With that said, “The Men Who Stare at Goats” is lacking in certain respects. The plot of this movie is far from riveting, and most of the characters lack the kind of depth and heart that could have made this movie great. Nonetheless, “The Men Who Stare at Goats” is at very least worthwhile. When all is said and done, the audience cannot help but think that the world could use more soldiers from the New Earth Army.
Coastal View News
The mission: to develop the psychic powers of gifted soldiers to a level so great that they are able to stop a goat’s heart just by staring at it or break up cloud formations by merely wishing it to be so. The objective: to bring peace to the world by mentally disarming hostile armies. The movie: “The Men Who Stare at Goats.”
“The Men Who Stare at Goats” is a goofy but clever movie that is fueled by the skillful work of George Clooney, Jeff Bridges, Kevin Spacey and Ewan McGregor. As it is, this film is rather flimsy, but worth a grin and a chuckle for both its situational humor and sardonic plot.
Bob Wilton (Ewan McGregor) is a small-time reporter who is shaken from his suburban reverie when his wife leaves him for his boss. Intent on impressing his wife (or proving that she was wrong), Wilton goes to Iraq to become a real reporter—a wartime correspondent. Unfortunately, Wilton has a hard time breaking into the old boys club that constitutes the Iraq War news troupe, and so he is left feeling as impotent as ever.
However, patience finally avails Wilton, and his big break comes in the form of Lynn Cassady, a leading member of a top secret military organization called ‘The New Earth Army’, which focuses on developing the psychic powers of mentally gifted soldiers. Wilton is grateful for the intriguing story, but finds himself unable to believe the grandiose claims to power attested to by Cassady, for the psychic cohort described by Cassady seems less like a group of dedicated geniuses and more like a group of hippie crackpots. The soldiers of the New Earth Army do not conduct scientific experiments on brains or study the psychological makeup of combatants; instead, these men prance with flowers, do yoga, pray to the earth for guidance, and stare at goats.
Despite his skepticism, Wilton goes along for the ride with an open mind. He and Cassady travel deep into Iraq—one looking for a story and the other looking to accomplish a mission. Wilton quickly learns that, with Cassady, there is a very fine line between ineptitude and genius, for Cassady gets the pair in and out of trouble with what is either stupidity, psychic foresight or dumb luck. Yet, the further into the story Wilton gets, the more he believes in the efficacy of psychic powers. He believes that Cassady and the rest of the New Earth Army are capable of doing amazing things (although he is unsure what, exactly, is amazing about those things), and he also comes to believe that he, a mere reporter, is likewise psychically gifted.
But in the end, it is not their mental prowess that leads these men closer to their objective. Rather, it is their outlook, their way of life, that makes the difference. It turns out that working on their own selves—and yes, through yoga and prancing—is the first critical step towards ridding the world of violence.
The way that “The Men Who Stare at Goats” combines the grim nature of warfare with the lighthearted attitude of hippie culture is both funny and clever. However, that this movie is worth more than a grin is due to the work of George Clooney and Jeff Bridges (who plays the founder of the New Earth Army), who fill their respective roles with twice the genius of the characters they play.
With that said, “The Men Who Stare at Goats” is lacking in certain respects. The plot of this movie is far from riveting, and most of the characters lack the kind of depth and heart that could have made this movie great. Nonetheless, “The Men Who Stare at Goats” is at very least worthwhile. When all is said and done, the audience cannot help but think that the world could use more soldiers from the New Earth Army.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
"Capitalism: A Love Story"
By: Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
“Capitalism is an evil,” says Michael Moore, “and you cannot regulate evil.”
Capitalism, an evil? We might have been inclined to go along with “Guns are evil,” “George Bush is evil,” and maybe even “Private healthcare is evil,” but surely we cannot so slander our beloved friend, capitalism. The economic superiority and moral uprightness of the free market is simply a given, right? Not so, says Michael Moore.
America and capitalism are what Forrest Gump might have said are “like peas and carrots”, and for this reason, “Capitalism: A Love Story”—a blistering criticism of all things free market—is Moore’s boldest and most ambitious project to date. It’s bold, but not great. It is emotionally stirring at times, but because capitalism is itself such an elusive concept for Michael Moore, his movie is unclear, unfocused, heavy on emotional conclusions, and light on damning premises.
“Capitalism: A Love Story” sputters out of the gates with several disjointed scenes and interviews that are only loosely connected. Moore interviews families being thrown from their homes and zooms in for shot after shot after shot of tear-stained faces and boarded-up shanties. Moore compares America to ancient Rome, drawing parallels between the social factors that led to Rome’s downfall and the milieu that now characterizes American society: too much greed; too great a divide between the rich and the poor.
While there is no tight working definition of ‘capitalism’ provided by Moore, there is the impression that ‘capitalism’ loosely refers to something like greed, the privilege of the few at the expense of the many, or maybe just meanness. As per usual, Moore attacks the system-“the Man” if you will—through a witty combination of emotional instances and conspiracy theories, all set to bouncing, ironic music.
For all of its initial flaws, “Capitalism: A Love Story” picks up some steam, interest, and credibility as Moore casts the financial elite as a corrupt aristocracy. He cleverly juxtaposes capitalism not with socialism or communism, but democracy. For Moore, the real tension is between two basic American ideals: liberty and equality. On the one hand, Americans are attracted to the personal liberty espoused by capitalism because they want to think that they have the freedom to make it big, to rise above their respective classes, to live the American dream. But on the other hand, there is also the moral compass of America that seeks to provide adequate conditions for all. We believe that everyone should have equal access to happiness and security.
We can’t have it both ways, claims Moore. We can’t obtain fabulous wealth for ourselves while at the same time providing adequate conditions for all. Thus, the tension between liberty and equality. Of course, Moore thinks that the so-called economic liberty provided by capitalism is, in reality, a sham. According to Moore, the reason we allow investment bankers and Wall Street whizzes to make it rich while hard working families are kicked to the curb is because we like the idea that someday we could be rich, on top of the heap. But this is an illusion, claims Moore, because the simple fact is that the rich get richer and the poor get poorer.
For those viewers who are not already inclined to believe Moore’s conclusions, “Capitalism: A Love Story” will be nothing short of exasperating. As is usually the case, Moore’s premises are aimed at the gut, not the head. He uses public outrage to egg his audience on; he is the trumpeter of discontent, a sympathizer, a rabble-rouser. Moore tells people what they are mad at and then makes them madder at it, all without making a clear connection between their woe and his ill-defined object of hatred.
For those viewers who are inclined to believe Moore’s conclusions, “Capitalism: A Love Story” will no doubt be a moving rally cry. For those who have the feeling that the problem really is systemic, this film provides emotional punch. For these folks, Michael Moore is in their corner; he is their champion.
But whether you are a capitalist, socialist, anarchist or communist, it is clear that “Capitalism: A Love Story” could have been better. It could have been more penetrating and focused. It could have more coherently dealt with the connections between our current economic troubles and capitalism as an economic system. But that’s not really Michael Moore’s style, so take this movie for what it’s worth.
Coastal View News
“Capitalism is an evil,” says Michael Moore, “and you cannot regulate evil.”
Capitalism, an evil? We might have been inclined to go along with “Guns are evil,” “George Bush is evil,” and maybe even “Private healthcare is evil,” but surely we cannot so slander our beloved friend, capitalism. The economic superiority and moral uprightness of the free market is simply a given, right? Not so, says Michael Moore.
America and capitalism are what Forrest Gump might have said are “like peas and carrots”, and for this reason, “Capitalism: A Love Story”—a blistering criticism of all things free market—is Moore’s boldest and most ambitious project to date. It’s bold, but not great. It is emotionally stirring at times, but because capitalism is itself such an elusive concept for Michael Moore, his movie is unclear, unfocused, heavy on emotional conclusions, and light on damning premises.
“Capitalism: A Love Story” sputters out of the gates with several disjointed scenes and interviews that are only loosely connected. Moore interviews families being thrown from their homes and zooms in for shot after shot after shot of tear-stained faces and boarded-up shanties. Moore compares America to ancient Rome, drawing parallels between the social factors that led to Rome’s downfall and the milieu that now characterizes American society: too much greed; too great a divide between the rich and the poor.
While there is no tight working definition of ‘capitalism’ provided by Moore, there is the impression that ‘capitalism’ loosely refers to something like greed, the privilege of the few at the expense of the many, or maybe just meanness. As per usual, Moore attacks the system-“the Man” if you will—through a witty combination of emotional instances and conspiracy theories, all set to bouncing, ironic music.
For all of its initial flaws, “Capitalism: A Love Story” picks up some steam, interest, and credibility as Moore casts the financial elite as a corrupt aristocracy. He cleverly juxtaposes capitalism not with socialism or communism, but democracy. For Moore, the real tension is between two basic American ideals: liberty and equality. On the one hand, Americans are attracted to the personal liberty espoused by capitalism because they want to think that they have the freedom to make it big, to rise above their respective classes, to live the American dream. But on the other hand, there is also the moral compass of America that seeks to provide adequate conditions for all. We believe that everyone should have equal access to happiness and security.
We can’t have it both ways, claims Moore. We can’t obtain fabulous wealth for ourselves while at the same time providing adequate conditions for all. Thus, the tension between liberty and equality. Of course, Moore thinks that the so-called economic liberty provided by capitalism is, in reality, a sham. According to Moore, the reason we allow investment bankers and Wall Street whizzes to make it rich while hard working families are kicked to the curb is because we like the idea that someday we could be rich, on top of the heap. But this is an illusion, claims Moore, because the simple fact is that the rich get richer and the poor get poorer.
For those viewers who are not already inclined to believe Moore’s conclusions, “Capitalism: A Love Story” will be nothing short of exasperating. As is usually the case, Moore’s premises are aimed at the gut, not the head. He uses public outrage to egg his audience on; he is the trumpeter of discontent, a sympathizer, a rabble-rouser. Moore tells people what they are mad at and then makes them madder at it, all without making a clear connection between their woe and his ill-defined object of hatred.
For those viewers who are inclined to believe Moore’s conclusions, “Capitalism: A Love Story” will no doubt be a moving rally cry. For those who have the feeling that the problem really is systemic, this film provides emotional punch. For these folks, Michael Moore is in their corner; he is their champion.
But whether you are a capitalist, socialist, anarchist or communist, it is clear that “Capitalism: A Love Story” could have been better. It could have been more penetrating and focused. It could have more coherently dealt with the connections between our current economic troubles and capitalism as an economic system. But that’s not really Michael Moore’s style, so take this movie for what it’s worth.
"Extract"
By: Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
Mike Judge’s career is an ode to the workingman. It is an ode composed of a series of tales chronicling the exasperation of suburban life. “Office Space,” “King of the Hill,” and now “Extract”, all give a ridiculous but somehow accurate look at what is most trying about being average. “Extract” is an oddly realistic farce—a good illustration of what makes Judge’s movies so unique, and so funny.
Joel (Jason Bateman) may be the creator and owner of his own company, but at heart, Joel is a simple guy. He really wants what every simple guy wants: stability, honesty, and an occasional retreat from the doldrums. Joel’s ingenious and moderately successful extract manufacturing business testifies to the fact that all he really needs is his little corner of the world.
That is, until the combination of a dissatisfying home life, the fresh presence of a sexy temptress at work and the jarring influence of a freak accident at the extract factory moves Joel to shake things up a bit—to hatch a scheme. At the insistence of Joel’s hippie friend Dean (Ben Affleck), Joel decides to hire a male prostitute to seduce his wife so that he—Joel—can sleep with his new temp, Cindy (Mila Kunis), without feeling guilty. Unfortunately, the plan works too well. Brad (Dustin Milligan), the moronic gigolo, not only finds it easy to lure Joel’s wife into bed, he also finds it easy to turn this one-time job into a lingering affair.
Meanwhile, Joel discovers that Cindy is not the sweet, honest girl that he thought she was. Instead, she is an underhanded con artist/petty thief who is threatening to bring his entire company to its knees. Joel sees his entire world crumbling around him, and all because he tried to combat his boredom with Hollywood shenanigans. Joel realizes that he never really wanted what he thought he wanted. In other words, his old life, though at times exasperating, provided comfort and contentment. Joel discovers that he was meant to be a small-time extract maker, not James Bond.
In “Extract”, Mike Judge does what he does best: he simultaneously glorifies and mocks the life of the average Joe. He creates characters that are at once over-the-top and yet strikingly familiar. He puts these characters into situations that seem outrageous, but that every member of the audience has somehow experienced. Mike Judge is the master of working class exasperation.
In Judge’s stories, it is interesting to note that the worst possible thing a character can do is attempt to be something that they are not. Although the desirability of fleeing from suburbia is palpable in the beginning of these stories, the actual act of fleeing serves only as a catalyst for misery, and the process of redemption is always identical to the process of coming back to where things started. It seems to be a transformation of attitude, not necessarily a transformation of lifestyle, which is the solution to chronic boredom, according to Judge. The most valuable lesson Judge’s characters can learn is that they are nothing special; or, rather, it is that their simplicity is precisely what makes them special.
“Extract” is not just interesting; it’s funny too. Jason Bateman is perfect for the role of the punching bag, and is supported by a whole slew of outrageous but believable characters. In particular, David Koechner, who plays Bateman’s neighbor Nathan, is a side-splitting rendition of the kind of vapid acquaintance that just won’t leave you alone. It seems to me that Judge’s work is successful only insofar as he can create characters that are both remarkably unreasonable and remarkably believable. In “Extract”, there are plenty to choose from.
Coastal View News
Mike Judge’s career is an ode to the workingman. It is an ode composed of a series of tales chronicling the exasperation of suburban life. “Office Space,” “King of the Hill,” and now “Extract”, all give a ridiculous but somehow accurate look at what is most trying about being average. “Extract” is an oddly realistic farce—a good illustration of what makes Judge’s movies so unique, and so funny.
Joel (Jason Bateman) may be the creator and owner of his own company, but at heart, Joel is a simple guy. He really wants what every simple guy wants: stability, honesty, and an occasional retreat from the doldrums. Joel’s ingenious and moderately successful extract manufacturing business testifies to the fact that all he really needs is his little corner of the world.
That is, until the combination of a dissatisfying home life, the fresh presence of a sexy temptress at work and the jarring influence of a freak accident at the extract factory moves Joel to shake things up a bit—to hatch a scheme. At the insistence of Joel’s hippie friend Dean (Ben Affleck), Joel decides to hire a male prostitute to seduce his wife so that he—Joel—can sleep with his new temp, Cindy (Mila Kunis), without feeling guilty. Unfortunately, the plan works too well. Brad (Dustin Milligan), the moronic gigolo, not only finds it easy to lure Joel’s wife into bed, he also finds it easy to turn this one-time job into a lingering affair.
Meanwhile, Joel discovers that Cindy is not the sweet, honest girl that he thought she was. Instead, she is an underhanded con artist/petty thief who is threatening to bring his entire company to its knees. Joel sees his entire world crumbling around him, and all because he tried to combat his boredom with Hollywood shenanigans. Joel realizes that he never really wanted what he thought he wanted. In other words, his old life, though at times exasperating, provided comfort and contentment. Joel discovers that he was meant to be a small-time extract maker, not James Bond.
In “Extract”, Mike Judge does what he does best: he simultaneously glorifies and mocks the life of the average Joe. He creates characters that are at once over-the-top and yet strikingly familiar. He puts these characters into situations that seem outrageous, but that every member of the audience has somehow experienced. Mike Judge is the master of working class exasperation.
In Judge’s stories, it is interesting to note that the worst possible thing a character can do is attempt to be something that they are not. Although the desirability of fleeing from suburbia is palpable in the beginning of these stories, the actual act of fleeing serves only as a catalyst for misery, and the process of redemption is always identical to the process of coming back to where things started. It seems to be a transformation of attitude, not necessarily a transformation of lifestyle, which is the solution to chronic boredom, according to Judge. The most valuable lesson Judge’s characters can learn is that they are nothing special; or, rather, it is that their simplicity is precisely what makes them special.
“Extract” is not just interesting; it’s funny too. Jason Bateman is perfect for the role of the punching bag, and is supported by a whole slew of outrageous but believable characters. In particular, David Koechner, who plays Bateman’s neighbor Nathan, is a side-splitting rendition of the kind of vapid acquaintance that just won’t leave you alone. It seems to me that Judge’s work is successful only insofar as he can create characters that are both remarkably unreasonable and remarkably believable. In “Extract”, there are plenty to choose from.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
"The Hurt Locker"
By: Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
Most military heroes make their name by deftly destroying the enemy or perhaps by pulling a fellow soldier out of harm’s way; they either create ruthless havoc or shield friends from the havoc of others. In the widely acclaimed “The Hurt Locker”, one man recklessly puts himself and his friends in harm way while mastering the art of quieting the havoc. Whether or not he is a hero, this man is the Shakespeare of bomb diffusers—bold, courageous, and breathtaking to behold.
U.S. Army Staff Sergeant William James (Jeremy Renner) enters the Iraq War when his predecessor, Sergeant Matt Thompson (Guy Pearce), is killed while attempting to diffuse a bomb. James thus joins a bomb squad shaken by the loss of their beloved leader, and unfortunately, James’ brazen methodology and lackadaisical personality only serves to heighten the tensions of his new colleagues. Whereas the deceased Thompson observed every precaution and sweated the details, James slaps on the suit and strolls into harm’s way without a second thought. Thompson was visibly aware of the dangers that ended up killing him, while James seems no more concerned in fiddling with deadly bombs than he would be if he were fixing a carburetor.
James draws the ire of his equals but the praise of his superiors, the latter seeing James’ stunts as courageous and amusing. However, as time passes and countless bombs are successfully neutralized, even James’ nervous teammates cannot ignore the fact that James is a highly skilled bomb technician. He approaches a bomb with the same confidence that must have brought Rembrandt to the canvas or Mozart to the piano. He responds to the news that there is a bomb in the trunk of a car like one might respond to the news that there is a spider in the cupboard. “All right, I’ll take care of it,” he says. His confidence allows him to work quickly and efficiently, and his curiosity allows him to consider new possibilities and understand unheard of techniques employed by the enemy.
James’ teammates are counting down the days until they go home while James is playing a game. However, James’ seeming indifference to death does not keep him from feeling the pain of war. We see that he is compassionate, and is surprisingly affected by harm inflicted on others, particularly the innocent. The combination of his lack of care for the safety of himself and his extreme care for the safety of others make Sergeant James an ideal bomb diffuser. For James it is far better to save lives diffusing bombs than it is to take lives setting them off.
Each scene of “The Hurt Locker” is masterfully done. Director Kathryn Bigelow creates a realism that is both breathtakingly beautiful and devastatingly gruesome. This film is comprised of a succession of scenes that are mesmerizing and nerve-wracking; over two hours without a dull moment. What’s more, Jeremy Renner does a wonderful job as the implacable James.
And yet, this film lacks a strong narrative. While each scene is crafted well, the whole is not much more than the sum of its parts. There is no particular plot that the audience is meant to follow, meaning that we are dropped off rather near the place where we were picked up.
It certainly could be argued that this movie was a character study more than it was a war story, and what we learn of James’ character in the first half hour definitely provides the impetus for a great character study. But what is captivating about James is his peculiar indifference to death, and unfortunately what’s behind this odd character trait remains murky until the end. The first half of “The Hurt Locker”—the setup and rising action of the movie—is Oscar-worthy. But then the movie stalls, and in the end “The Hurt Locker” does not provide the climax or resolution worthy of its first half.
Coastal View News
Most military heroes make their name by deftly destroying the enemy or perhaps by pulling a fellow soldier out of harm’s way; they either create ruthless havoc or shield friends from the havoc of others. In the widely acclaimed “The Hurt Locker”, one man recklessly puts himself and his friends in harm way while mastering the art of quieting the havoc. Whether or not he is a hero, this man is the Shakespeare of bomb diffusers—bold, courageous, and breathtaking to behold.
U.S. Army Staff Sergeant William James (Jeremy Renner) enters the Iraq War when his predecessor, Sergeant Matt Thompson (Guy Pearce), is killed while attempting to diffuse a bomb. James thus joins a bomb squad shaken by the loss of their beloved leader, and unfortunately, James’ brazen methodology and lackadaisical personality only serves to heighten the tensions of his new colleagues. Whereas the deceased Thompson observed every precaution and sweated the details, James slaps on the suit and strolls into harm’s way without a second thought. Thompson was visibly aware of the dangers that ended up killing him, while James seems no more concerned in fiddling with deadly bombs than he would be if he were fixing a carburetor.
James draws the ire of his equals but the praise of his superiors, the latter seeing James’ stunts as courageous and amusing. However, as time passes and countless bombs are successfully neutralized, even James’ nervous teammates cannot ignore the fact that James is a highly skilled bomb technician. He approaches a bomb with the same confidence that must have brought Rembrandt to the canvas or Mozart to the piano. He responds to the news that there is a bomb in the trunk of a car like one might respond to the news that there is a spider in the cupboard. “All right, I’ll take care of it,” he says. His confidence allows him to work quickly and efficiently, and his curiosity allows him to consider new possibilities and understand unheard of techniques employed by the enemy.
James’ teammates are counting down the days until they go home while James is playing a game. However, James’ seeming indifference to death does not keep him from feeling the pain of war. We see that he is compassionate, and is surprisingly affected by harm inflicted on others, particularly the innocent. The combination of his lack of care for the safety of himself and his extreme care for the safety of others make Sergeant James an ideal bomb diffuser. For James it is far better to save lives diffusing bombs than it is to take lives setting them off.
Each scene of “The Hurt Locker” is masterfully done. Director Kathryn Bigelow creates a realism that is both breathtakingly beautiful and devastatingly gruesome. This film is comprised of a succession of scenes that are mesmerizing and nerve-wracking; over two hours without a dull moment. What’s more, Jeremy Renner does a wonderful job as the implacable James.
And yet, this film lacks a strong narrative. While each scene is crafted well, the whole is not much more than the sum of its parts. There is no particular plot that the audience is meant to follow, meaning that we are dropped off rather near the place where we were picked up.
It certainly could be argued that this movie was a character study more than it was a war story, and what we learn of James’ character in the first half hour definitely provides the impetus for a great character study. But what is captivating about James is his peculiar indifference to death, and unfortunately what’s behind this odd character trait remains murky until the end. The first half of “The Hurt Locker”—the setup and rising action of the movie—is Oscar-worthy. But then the movie stalls, and in the end “The Hurt Locker” does not provide the climax or resolution worthy of its first half.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
"Public Enemies"
By: Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
Director Michael Mann is the man when it comes to details. Whether it be the resonant crack of a Tommy gun or the grainy haze of a midnight confrontation, Mann seems to go to the greatest of lengths to provide an audience with experiences that are somehow sharper, realer and more pungent than other shootout flicks. “Public Enemies”, Michael Mann’s latest crime drama, incorporates the presence—the glamour—of the icon that is bank robber John Dillinger while simultaneously bringing it down to dirty, gritty earth.
The John Dillinger (Johnny Depp) of this film is as ruthless and calculating as one would like to think, but his warmth and care for the common person makes Dillinger the right kind of criminal—like Danny Ocean or Thomas Crown, the kind of thief that you can root for. Dillinger will shove a fellow conspirator out of a moving car for slipping up, but refuses to take the pocket change from a citizen hoping to deposit his dollars and cents. Johnny Depp might not be the Dillinger we are used to, but who cares?
After perpetrating a slew of bank robberies and picaresque ruses, Dillinger inevitably pits himself against the concerted efforts of high-ranking U. S. officials, who promise to restore order by defeating “public enemy number one.” Chief amongst these government officials is Melvin Purvis (Christian Bale), a straight-laced policeman whose methodical workmanship becomes famous for its ability to bring down the heavy hand of justice with booming resonance. It’s Dillinger versus Pervus, although this bout is more of a competitive sport for the former and an ominous battle for the latter.
Dillinger is used to dealing with inept local authorities, so Pervus’ persistent and well-funded attention becomes more than a bother before too long. Dillinger’s associates are dropping like flies, and the smirk that illuminates the face of public enemy number one is dimmed while Dillinger attempts to protect those around him. When the dark and beautiful Billie Frenchette (Marion Cotillard) enters the picture, Dillinger’s fun and games quickly become an earnest effort to protect the woman with whom he has fallen in love. Despite continual promises claiming that everything is going to be all right, Dillinger’s control is gradually wrenched from him by Pervus, the first lawman able to equal Dillinger’s cunning.
When it comes to crime dramas, it is surprising how much the details matter. For example, the mild popcorn popping sound of the machine guns wielded in James Bond films or other big budget action movies can easily create the sensation of being caught in a ludicrous arcade game. In contrast, each gunshot in Michael Mann movies, including “Public Enemies,” brings with it a loud and piercing resonance that demands the full attention of viewers; it disturbs the very air the audience breaths. If you could imagine sleeping through the gunfire in a movie, something isn’t right; like orange ketchup blood and robot sharks, weak gunfire reeks of phony bologna Hollywood effects. Anyone who has actually heard a gunshot knows that it is scary—it goes straight to the gut of a person, and shortly thereafter to at least two legs eager to fly away. An authentic gunshot may seem like a trifling detail, but this is precisely the kind of detail that can make or break a gangster movie. Mann’s scenes are real and jarring, and this effect ironically adds to the larger-than-life persona typically associated with depression-era outlaws like John Dillinger.
Johnny Depp’s performance is perfect for this movie, even if the character is a departure from other Dillinger portrayals. It strikes me as impossibly presumptuous and inevitably vain to worry too much about mimicking the true character of an historical figure so distorted by romance and propaganda. “Public Enemies” creates a Dillinger worth watching. The first half of the film lags a bit, but the second half delivers all that is to be expected from Mann—the intrigue of two geniuses on opposite sides of the law, the interest of the honorable villain, and yes, the jolt of Tommy guns piercing the still night air with strobing infernos erupting from their barrels.
“Public Enemies” is rated R for gangster violence and some language.
Coastal View News
Director Michael Mann is the man when it comes to details. Whether it be the resonant crack of a Tommy gun or the grainy haze of a midnight confrontation, Mann seems to go to the greatest of lengths to provide an audience with experiences that are somehow sharper, realer and more pungent than other shootout flicks. “Public Enemies”, Michael Mann’s latest crime drama, incorporates the presence—the glamour—of the icon that is bank robber John Dillinger while simultaneously bringing it down to dirty, gritty earth.
The John Dillinger (Johnny Depp) of this film is as ruthless and calculating as one would like to think, but his warmth and care for the common person makes Dillinger the right kind of criminal—like Danny Ocean or Thomas Crown, the kind of thief that you can root for. Dillinger will shove a fellow conspirator out of a moving car for slipping up, but refuses to take the pocket change from a citizen hoping to deposit his dollars and cents. Johnny Depp might not be the Dillinger we are used to, but who cares?
After perpetrating a slew of bank robberies and picaresque ruses, Dillinger inevitably pits himself against the concerted efforts of high-ranking U. S. officials, who promise to restore order by defeating “public enemy number one.” Chief amongst these government officials is Melvin Purvis (Christian Bale), a straight-laced policeman whose methodical workmanship becomes famous for its ability to bring down the heavy hand of justice with booming resonance. It’s Dillinger versus Pervus, although this bout is more of a competitive sport for the former and an ominous battle for the latter.
Dillinger is used to dealing with inept local authorities, so Pervus’ persistent and well-funded attention becomes more than a bother before too long. Dillinger’s associates are dropping like flies, and the smirk that illuminates the face of public enemy number one is dimmed while Dillinger attempts to protect those around him. When the dark and beautiful Billie Frenchette (Marion Cotillard) enters the picture, Dillinger’s fun and games quickly become an earnest effort to protect the woman with whom he has fallen in love. Despite continual promises claiming that everything is going to be all right, Dillinger’s control is gradually wrenched from him by Pervus, the first lawman able to equal Dillinger’s cunning.
When it comes to crime dramas, it is surprising how much the details matter. For example, the mild popcorn popping sound of the machine guns wielded in James Bond films or other big budget action movies can easily create the sensation of being caught in a ludicrous arcade game. In contrast, each gunshot in Michael Mann movies, including “Public Enemies,” brings with it a loud and piercing resonance that demands the full attention of viewers; it disturbs the very air the audience breaths. If you could imagine sleeping through the gunfire in a movie, something isn’t right; like orange ketchup blood and robot sharks, weak gunfire reeks of phony bologna Hollywood effects. Anyone who has actually heard a gunshot knows that it is scary—it goes straight to the gut of a person, and shortly thereafter to at least two legs eager to fly away. An authentic gunshot may seem like a trifling detail, but this is precisely the kind of detail that can make or break a gangster movie. Mann’s scenes are real and jarring, and this effect ironically adds to the larger-than-life persona typically associated with depression-era outlaws like John Dillinger.
Johnny Depp’s performance is perfect for this movie, even if the character is a departure from other Dillinger portrayals. It strikes me as impossibly presumptuous and inevitably vain to worry too much about mimicking the true character of an historical figure so distorted by romance and propaganda. “Public Enemies” creates a Dillinger worth watching. The first half of the film lags a bit, but the second half delivers all that is to be expected from Mann—the intrigue of two geniuses on opposite sides of the law, the interest of the honorable villain, and yes, the jolt of Tommy guns piercing the still night air with strobing infernos erupting from their barrels.
“Public Enemies” is rated R for gangster violence and some language.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
"Up"
By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
Pixar is still batting a thousand, which is clearly a record—a statistic itself sufficient to put the production company in the hall of fame. But Pixar does not settle for mere hits; they insist on hitting it out of the ballpark, and “Up” is no exception. “Up” is funny, instructive, entertaining, cute, visually stunning, but most of all touching.
His humble stature and harsh, square jaw misleadingly give the impression that Carl Fredrickson (Edward Asner) is a petty, curmudgeonly old man locked away in his memories and bitterness. In fact, Fredrickson is the biggest dreamer of them all. He has a heart two sizes too big and an imagination that travels places his eyes will never meet.
“Up” begins as a younger, rounder Fredrickson sits on the edge of his seat in an old movie, his eyes wide, having his imagination insatiably piqued by Limburg-esque world explorer, Charles Muntz (Christopher Plummer). Later that day, while buzzing along the sidewalk, hurdling ultra-perillous cracks in the pavement (with near the grace displayed by Muntz while zipping over the Andes) with leather helmet, goggles and all, Fredrickson finds his soul mate, his Ellie.
This buck-toothed, redheaded wonder possesses just as much love for adventure as Carl, and twice as much gusto for chasing it down. Little Carl Fredrickson’s wide eyes and gaping jaw are suddenly aimed at a new explorer—this one far more impressive than the last. Ellie jumps around the beaten walls of an abandoned house—her clubhouse—a mile-a-minute and a 10 words-per-second, while Carl silently stares in humbled awe. Though they have yet to see the age of 10, Carl and Ellie begin to plan their lives together. Ellie forces Carl to cross-his-heart-hope-to-die promise that he will take her to Paradise Falls someday. Carl willingly complies, and Ellie whips out a scrapbook, where she draws their clubhouse perched atop Paradise Falls. Ellie then apportions half the book for the adventures to be had once they get there.
As the years pass, Carl and Ellie travel through life together, never quite becoming the globetrotters once imagined, but always finding excitement and adventure in everyday life. The couple buys and renovates the house that was once their clubhouse. They save for their trip to Paradise Falls, but regularly empty their savings for life’s necessities. Just as his promise is about to be fulfilled, Carl is left without his Ellie. Fredrickson fiercely clings to his memories—to his house, pictures, and Ellie’s old sitting chair. It is not until his house is threatened by greedy developers that Fredrickson is shaken from his reverie. Instead of relenting, the 78-year-old Fredrickson ties thousands and thousands of balloons to his house and flies away. Destination: Paradise Falls.
Little does Fredrickson know that Russell (Jordan Nagai), a plump boy scout, was on the porch of the upward-bound house when it took off. The grumpy Mr. Fredrickson intends to drop Russell off on a tall skyscraper, but a storm pushes them off course. After a violent ruckus, Fredrickson awakens to find Russell guiding the house over the jungles of South America. Fredrickson manages to land the house mere miles from the sharp cliffs of Paradise Falls. The aging explorer is not about to give up now, so he walks his floating house, alongside Russell and a couple of pesky friends he meets on the way, toward the falls. Yet, the journey is not easy, as Fredrickson must overcome the harsh terrain and the wiles of an old icon in order to attain his dream. Fredrickson is stubborn and persistent, but he must learn to soften his heart in order to embody the adventurer’s spirit instilled in him by Ellie.
“Up” is the most touching of the Pixar films, and Carl Fredrickson is perhaps one of Pixar’s most endearing characters. This movie will make you cry as much as it will make you laugh and smile. Just when this movie appears to hit a lull, and the masterful dialogue seems to turn cliché and preachy, a short sequence of scenes strikes with a lightning bolt, an emotional epiphany, both potent and profound. Last year, “WALL-E” showed us the dangers of complacency—the decay of lives not lived. This year, “Up” shows us that life can be lived and adventure can be sought at any location, in any circumstance; that true explorers do not need to find exotic creatures or timeless artifacts. Carl Fredrickson is a simple man with few needs, but he embodies what he always admired in others by being willing to take risks and budge from his nostalgic rut in order to write the next chapter in the book he dreamt of as a child.
Coastal View News
Pixar is still batting a thousand, which is clearly a record—a statistic itself sufficient to put the production company in the hall of fame. But Pixar does not settle for mere hits; they insist on hitting it out of the ballpark, and “Up” is no exception. “Up” is funny, instructive, entertaining, cute, visually stunning, but most of all touching.
His humble stature and harsh, square jaw misleadingly give the impression that Carl Fredrickson (Edward Asner) is a petty, curmudgeonly old man locked away in his memories and bitterness. In fact, Fredrickson is the biggest dreamer of them all. He has a heart two sizes too big and an imagination that travels places his eyes will never meet.
“Up” begins as a younger, rounder Fredrickson sits on the edge of his seat in an old movie, his eyes wide, having his imagination insatiably piqued by Limburg-esque world explorer, Charles Muntz (Christopher Plummer). Later that day, while buzzing along the sidewalk, hurdling ultra-perillous cracks in the pavement (with near the grace displayed by Muntz while zipping over the Andes) with leather helmet, goggles and all, Fredrickson finds his soul mate, his Ellie.
This buck-toothed, redheaded wonder possesses just as much love for adventure as Carl, and twice as much gusto for chasing it down. Little Carl Fredrickson’s wide eyes and gaping jaw are suddenly aimed at a new explorer—this one far more impressive than the last. Ellie jumps around the beaten walls of an abandoned house—her clubhouse—a mile-a-minute and a 10 words-per-second, while Carl silently stares in humbled awe. Though they have yet to see the age of 10, Carl and Ellie begin to plan their lives together. Ellie forces Carl to cross-his-heart-hope-to-die promise that he will take her to Paradise Falls someday. Carl willingly complies, and Ellie whips out a scrapbook, where she draws their clubhouse perched atop Paradise Falls. Ellie then apportions half the book for the adventures to be had once they get there.
As the years pass, Carl and Ellie travel through life together, never quite becoming the globetrotters once imagined, but always finding excitement and adventure in everyday life. The couple buys and renovates the house that was once their clubhouse. They save for their trip to Paradise Falls, but regularly empty their savings for life’s necessities. Just as his promise is about to be fulfilled, Carl is left without his Ellie. Fredrickson fiercely clings to his memories—to his house, pictures, and Ellie’s old sitting chair. It is not until his house is threatened by greedy developers that Fredrickson is shaken from his reverie. Instead of relenting, the 78-year-old Fredrickson ties thousands and thousands of balloons to his house and flies away. Destination: Paradise Falls.
Little does Fredrickson know that Russell (Jordan Nagai), a plump boy scout, was on the porch of the upward-bound house when it took off. The grumpy Mr. Fredrickson intends to drop Russell off on a tall skyscraper, but a storm pushes them off course. After a violent ruckus, Fredrickson awakens to find Russell guiding the house over the jungles of South America. Fredrickson manages to land the house mere miles from the sharp cliffs of Paradise Falls. The aging explorer is not about to give up now, so he walks his floating house, alongside Russell and a couple of pesky friends he meets on the way, toward the falls. Yet, the journey is not easy, as Fredrickson must overcome the harsh terrain and the wiles of an old icon in order to attain his dream. Fredrickson is stubborn and persistent, but he must learn to soften his heart in order to embody the adventurer’s spirit instilled in him by Ellie.
“Up” is the most touching of the Pixar films, and Carl Fredrickson is perhaps one of Pixar’s most endearing characters. This movie will make you cry as much as it will make you laugh and smile. Just when this movie appears to hit a lull, and the masterful dialogue seems to turn cliché and preachy, a short sequence of scenes strikes with a lightning bolt, an emotional epiphany, both potent and profound. Last year, “WALL-E” showed us the dangers of complacency—the decay of lives not lived. This year, “Up” shows us that life can be lived and adventure can be sought at any location, in any circumstance; that true explorers do not need to find exotic creatures or timeless artifacts. Carl Fredrickson is a simple man with few needs, but he embodies what he always admired in others by being willing to take risks and budge from his nostalgic rut in order to write the next chapter in the book he dreamt of as a child.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)