"Jack the Giant Slayer"

By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News

I walked out of “Jack the Giant Slayer”. It was not the worst movie I have ever seen. And I bet some people—maybe even a lot of people—will enjoy it. I simply could not take it. It was just bad enough, and bad enough in all the wrong ways, that after about 87 minutes I could not bear it any longer. I had to leave.

So here is what I know. “Jack the Giant Slayer” is mostly a love story about Jack and Isabelle. Jack (Nicholas Hoult) is a poor farm boy, and Isabelle (Eleanor Tomlinson) is a rich princess; Isabelle just wants to be normal, but Jack has had enough of normal.

Then this happens. Isabelle tries to hang with some commoners, gets threatened, Jack defends her honor, Isabelle is impressed, Jack finds out Isabelle is a princess, but princesses are not allowed to fall in love with farm boys, they have to marry rich and evil advisors to good-hearted but oblivious kings, but Isabelle seems to really like Jack, and Jack of course really likes Isabelle, it’s really too bad, etc. Etc. (If you walk into the theater late, just watch the first bit of “Aladdin” when you get home. Same thing.)

Anyway, Jack thinks that is that. So he puts Isabelle out of his mind and moves on with his day. And an eventful day it is. Jack sells his horse to an antsy monk for some beans. Jack’s uncle is not happy about the trade. So they fight. But it turns out that the beans are magical. So hey, maybe it was a good trade after all.

Or not. One of the beans’ magical powers is to make a super huge beanstalk when one gets wet. So what happens is Jack accidentally lets one of the beans drop beneath his house, and then it rains, and you know, the whole thing goes sky high. Not so good.

Oh, and as it turns out, Princess Isabelle, who is trying to run away, finds her way to Jack’s house right before the incident. So although Jack is left back on solid ground, the love of his life (that he just met) is sent into the stratosphere. Again: not so good.

But every cloud has a silver lining; every peril is a hero’s chance to save the day. Jack—along with the king’s man, Elmont (Ewan McGregor), Isabelle’s future husband, Roderick (Stanley Tucci), and a few others—climbs the beanstalk. It is a harrowing adventure, the ills of which are relieved only by some spirited (albeit nauseating) bean- and beanstalk-related humor.

When the team of heroes reaches the top, they learn that Isabelle has been abducted by a race of ugly, violent giants who eat their own boogers. It does not look good for the rescuers. The giants are pretty tough. Plus, Roderick turns out to be a baddie. So that doesn’t help. When it comes down to it, all that stands between the good guys and utter ruin is a scrawny farm boy named ‘Jack’.

Technically I don’t know whether or not Jack saves the day. It is possible that they all die horrible deaths at the hands of the giants and Roderick becomes ruler of the world. But I’m a betting man, and I bet that is not how it turns out. I bet Jack comes up big, and I bet he gets the girl too.

Furthermore, I bet that if you had to bet, you would bet with me. Why? Because you do not actually have to see this movie in order to know that it is painfully predictable, riddled with clichés, and just so very unoriginal. This movie—or the three-quarters of it I saw—is a slapdash bundle of truisms and tropes that probably aren’t even true or right; and even if they are true or right, my goodness, who cares?

Does this make “Jack the Giant Slayer” a bad movie? Well I think so (but I also think the acting is bad and the target audience is unclear, but now I feel like I am just being mean). Others may disagree. Or hey, maybe the end of the movie is great.

"Zero Dark Thirty"

By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News

Unless you live in a cave (or perhaps in a compound in Pakistan), you know how “Zero Dark Thirty” ends. There are no major twists. There is no surprise ending. And yet, “Zero Dark Thirty” is riveting. It is exactly what the previews say it is going to be, and still, you will not want to miss even a little bit of this movie.

“Zero Dark Thirty” is about a woman named Maya (Jessica Chastain). Maya is trying to find Osama Bin Laden, and not exactly to get his autograph or anything. She is part of a CIA team dedicated solely to capturing or killing the mastermind of the 9/11 attacks.

Maya is slight, but tough. She does not shrink from watching, or even participating in, brutal interrogations (i.e., torture) in service of her goal. Waterboarding, sleep depravation, beatings, starvation, and confinement in super tight spaces: these are the lengths Maya and her cohort go to in order to get information.

It is a bit like squeezing blood from a turnip, though. They get some information, but not a lot. Years pass without progress. More innocent people die. Al-Qaeda remains strong.

But Maya has a theory. On the basis of her research and “interviews” with various detainees, Maya believes that the best way to get to Bin Laden is to find one of the couriers that take messages to and from the al-Qaeda boss. And Maya knows who one of these couriers is. Well, really all she knows is his fake name and sort of what he looks like. Still, that’s not nothing.

Maya chases down every lead, considers every idea, and entertains every possible scenario. She is tireless. Yet, it looks like her idea is getting nowhere. Every time it seems like a lead is going to pan out—every time a tip has the potential to bear fruit—nothing comes of it.

Then there is a break. Maya finds out exactly who Bin Laden’s courier is, and through bribery, surveillance, and a whole lot of guesswork, Maya and other CIA operatives track the courier to a compound in Abbbottabad, Pakistan. Maya believes that this is where Bin Laden is hiding, but she has no proof. She tries to convince others, but many remain skeptical.

Finally, after months of deliberation, the higher-ups decide to go for it. The potential payoff is just too high. If there is any chance of bringing down Osama Bin Laden, the leader of al-Qaeda and mastermind of 9/11, they have to try.

You know the rest, of course. They find him. They kill him. Mission accomplished.

“Zero Dark Thirty” is exactly what it had to be. It had to be at least semi-accurate. It had to be dramatic but also serious. It had to be gritty and complicated without being overly political. The story itself is compelling; it doesn’t need embellishment. So “Zero Dark Thirty” just had to do the story justice.

And it did. “Zero Dark Thirty” really tells the story well. Even though you know what is going to happen, you still really want to know what is going to happen. You want to see what comes next.

Now, “Zero Dark Thirty” is not an exceptional, groundbreaking movie. It could not possibly be an exceptional, groundbreaking movie. It is too limited by its genre and subject matter. You just cannot get overly creative with the retelling of Bin Laden’s assassination. It is not allowed.

So this movie’s ceiling is perhaps a bit lower. Nonetheless, “Zero Dark Thirty” is a well-executed, thoroughly solid film.

"Les Miserables"

By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News

It is a classic novel, a hit musical, and every ten years or so, it is made into movie. “Les Miserables” has been made, remade, done, redone, adapted and readapted. People just keep going back to the well. This is neither surprising nor unfortunate, though. “Les Miserables” is, after all, one of the best stories ever told.

So the challenge, at least as I see it, for director Tom Hooper in remaking “Les Miserables” is, first, to not mess up one of the best stories ever told and, second, to add something—to do something that has not been done before, to bring new life to the story. The challenge is to give us a reason to want to see this particular version of “Les Miserables”.

The story is familiar. Jean Valjean (Hugh Jackman) is imprisoned for a petty crime, and his terrible experiences in prison turn him into the criminal he was assumed to be.

But then an uncommon act of mercy furnishes Valjean with a second chance. Valjean reforms. He takes on a whole new identity and character. He repays the kindness and mercy that was once shown to him by helping others, including poor Fantine (Anne Hathaway) and her daughter Cosette (Isabelle Allen and Amanda Seyfried).

The only problem is that Inspector Javert (Russell Crowe), a tireless and unyielding enforcer of the law, is after Valjean. Valjean just wants to live his life in peace, but Javert will stop at nothing to see that the strict letter of the law is obeyed and Valjean is back in prison for breaking parole.

Oh yeah, and meanwhile, a revolution breaks out in Paris, Cosette falls in love with a rebel—Marius (Eddie Redmayne)—and Valjean tries desperately to dodge Javert while holding together the various shards of his life.

There is a lot to work with here. There is a lot of water in this well. So does this version of “Les Miserables” find it? Does it shed new light on a particular character—perhaps one that as been overlooked? Or does it bring new life to the rich and powerful themes found in the book? Or at least do we, the audience, get bowled over by knockout vocal performances?

Unfortunately, I think the answer to each of these questions is mostly “No”. Some of the songs are well sung, but others are not. Some of the themes about redemption, mercy, love, and the law are detectible, but I never got the feeling that this is what the movie is about. Too much of the movie is about Hugh Jackman’s face and voice, Anne Hathaway’s face and voice, and Russell Crowe’s face. And that means that not enough of the movie is about Jean Valjean, Fantine, Javert, and the themes that these special characters evoke.

I should clarify my position here. I enjoyed “Les Miserables”. Of course I did. It’s “Les Miserables”! And it is not a bad rendition of “Les Miserables” either. However, this movie does face certain difficulties because it is a remake of the Broadway musical. You see, with live theater, there is a certain connection between the characters and the audience. The characters—Valjean, Fantine, Cosette, Javert, Marius, etc.—are right there. They are there, in the flesh, singing, moving, dancing, and acting. So you somehow know the characters on the stage.

You lose that connection when the characters are projected on a screen. That, of course, does not mean that an audience cannot feel a connection with characters in a movie. It just means that filmmakers have to avail themselves of other techniques and devices in order to establish the connection. And I think that it is very difficult to make use of some of those techniques when the script was written for the stage, when the plot is structured around a series of songs and, to be honest, when the actors are singing all the time.

The result is a merely decent version of a great story. If you are like me, you will enjoy “Les Miserables”, but when you feel that itch to revisit this story, you will return to a different telling of it.

"Lincoln"

By Matt Duncan

Coastal View News

Abraham Lincoln had his moments. One can just imagine being there when Lincoln delivered his Gettysburg address, for instance, or when he signed the Emancipation Proclamation. Inspiring stuff. Too bad we don’t have videos or anything.

What we do have is Steven Spielberg. In “Lincoln”, Spielberg strings together as many inspiring moments as possible. “Lincoln” is a highlight reel. It’s Honest Abe’s Greatest Hits. Except, like the Beatles or the Rolling Stones, Lincoln had so many greatest hits that you cannot put them all in just one collection. You could imagine “Lincoln: The Early Years”, in which Lincoln grows up, becomes a lawyer, debates Frederick Douglas, etc. Then there might be “Lincoln: Rise to the Presidency” or “Lincoln: Preserving the Union”.

Spielberg went with the greatest hits movie about Lincoln’s push to get the 13^th Amendment (which abolishes slavery) ratified. Here is the situation. The Civil War is almost over. The North is going to win. The South knows it, but is having a hard time admitting it. Lincoln really wants the war to be over, and apparently, so does everyone else. Thus, a lot of people think that the best thing for Lincoln to do is to focus on ending the war, and to save the slavery issue for when the dust settles.

Lincoln disagrees. He thinks that the 13^th Amendment has to be passed before the Civil War is over. Lincoln figures that if the South rejoins the union with slavery intact, people will forget about the amendment—because the newly recognized southern lawmakers will vehemently oppose the amendment and/or because other politicians will not want to rock the boat, so to speak. So Lincoln presses on.

The problem is that the folks from the South are less likely to join back up with the North if they know that slavery is going to be banned. It is kind of like one side refusing to put something on the negotiating table while the other side refuses to move forward without that thing on the table. It is gridlock—a political tightrope that few (very few, apparently) can walk.

“Lincoln” is scene after scene after scene of stirring speeches, dramatic poses, and memorable one-liners. It really is a greatest hits album. It is one where Lincoln gets a lot of his famous buddies together—e.g., Thaddeus Stevens (Tommy Lee Jones), Ulysses S. Grant (Jared Harris), Mary Todd Lincoln (Sally Field), and Robert Lincoln (Joseph Gordon-Levitt)—but none them is as good as Lincoln himself (Daniel Day-Lewis). That is to say, “Lincoln” is chock full of important characters and famous actors delivering heroic and inspiring lines, but to be honest, everyone just wants to see Lincoln/Daniel Day-Lewis do his thing.

Daniel Day-Lewis is great, of course. It is hard to think of another living actor who is so intensely and so justly revered. His performance as Lincoln is distinctive, iconic, interesting and entertaining. It is larger-than-life, but also remarkably real. It is a truly special performance.

But is this movie special? I think not. “Lincoln” is so absolutely jam-packed with inspirational speeches and one-liners that, oddly enough, some of the drama and intrigue evaporates. It is just too much for one sitting.

Look, I like watching highlight reels and slam-dunk contests as much as the next person. I think it is really cool and impressive when LeBron James spins eight times, puts the ball behind his back, between his legs, in one ear and out the other—all in mid-air—and then dunks it like he does this every day. But there is also a reason why I would rather watch an actual contest, even if (or maybe because) there is an honest-to-goodness chance that my team might lose. It’s just more interesting.

So what I want to say is that “Lincoln” is impressive. It’s just not that interesting.

"Looper"

By Matt Duncan

Coastal View News

In 2044, time travel has not been invented yet. It won’t be invented for another 30 years. That is what Joe (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) says. And Joe knows this because he is a looper. You see, when time travel is invented, things go really badly. So time travel is outlawed. So, naturally, mobsters find a way to use of the technology anyway. What they do is send people who they want “taken care of” back in time to a place where someone—i.e., a “looper”—is waiting with a loaded shotgun. That way the mob eliminates their enemies without having to deal with any messy body situations.

Being a looper is a pretty good gig (that is, aside from the murder, guilt, danger and all that). All you have to do is wait in a field at a certain time, point the gun in a certain direction, and then pull the trigger when someone appears. Then you dispose of the body. It’s pretty easy. Plus, loopers get paid very handsomely.

There is a catch, though. When someone like Joe signs up to be a looper, he agrees that after 30 years of livin’ large, he will go back in time to be eliminated by his past self. No loose ends, you see. This is called “closing the loop”.

Usually closing the loop is no big deal, but Joe’s case is a bit different. This is what happens. Old Joe (Bruce Willis) appears in the field, just as planned, and Young Joe kills him. So far, so good. Then Joe lives his life, hits a few bumps in the road, ages, marries, cleans up, ages, and seems pretty happy (we see all of this in a two-minute montage, so no spoiler alert needed). But when it comes time for Old Joe to go back, he is not quite ready to die. So, this time, Old Joe finds a way to dodge Young Joe’s bullet.

This puts Young Joe in hot water, since the mob does not want two versions of the same looper running around creating havoc. So I guess you could say that Joe isn’t doing himself any favors here. But Old Joe has a plan. He wants to change the future (that is, his past) so that he does not have to be sent back and killed. Young Joe, perhaps being a bit shortsighted, just wants to finish the job by killing Old Joe so that he does not have to face a bunch of angry mobsters.

Thus, Joe both wants to kill himself and to save himself. He wants to change the future, but he also wants to preserve it.

“Looper” is full of good ideas. Going in, it had the potential to be a really interesting, really mind-bending, really tightly packed action film. It has a good story, a good director, good actors, etc. Indeed, “Looper” has many potential virtues.

But here are a few of questions. Why wouldn’t the future mobsters kill their victims first, and then, after that, send the bodies back in time to be disposed of? Wouldn’t that be safer and easier? Or why not just dispose of the bodies there in the future? I mean, c’mon, if these mobsters have figured out how to time travel, why in the world can’t they figure out how to get rid of dead bodies? And also, why do the loopers have to kill themselves? Why not send a looper back to some other looper who will not hesitate to finish the job? Again, wouldn’t that be safer and easier?

OK, maybe I am nitpicking. But in this kind of movie—the kind of movie that is plot driven, where you suspect and hope that everything is going to come together in a really nice, neat way—these kind of details matter. That is why “Looper” is disappointing. It is full of quasi-inconsistencies. These are the kind of inconsistencies that make you wonder, if these characters are so smart and so clever, why is it that they are doing such dumb things all the time.

“Looper” is a movie where you walk out of the theater trying to figure out what just happened, and then you figure it out in like five minutes and realize that the plot was not that interesting, that the story was not that great, and that things maybe should have gone a lot differently.

That is not to say that “Looper” wasn’t fun to watch, of course.

"The Master"

By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News

Paul Thomas Anderson is one of the best filmmakers alive. He made “Magnolia”, “Punch Drunk Love”, and “There Will Be Blood”, and all of these films are brilliant. Each is a masterpiece. Now Anderson has a new film out called “The Master”. This movie is quite good, and definitely worth seeing, but I am not sure—at least not yet—whether it is brilliant, or a masterpiece. It may be. It may not be. I just don’t know.

“The Master” centers on two characters: Freddie Quell (Joaquin Phoenix) and Lancaster Dodd (Philip Seymour Hoffman). Start with Freddie. Freddie is a wreck. He is a drunk, letch, crook, vagrant, jerk, troublemaker, nuisance, etc. Freddie does whatever he wants whenever he wants. And that’s not a good thing. You could describe him as an extremely animalistic version of a man, or else as a child—as no man at all. But however you describe him, Freddie is clearly someone who needs structure, discipline and guidance.

That is where Lancaster comes in. Lancaster is the charismatic leader of a cult called ‘The Cause’. His followers call him ‘Master’ (but they say it like it’s just an old college nickname). Lancaster claims to be able to cure cancer, remedy alcoholism and boost one’s confidence. He says things like “We’ve won the day!” and talks about secrets to living in the “bodies that we hold.” He’s that kind of guy.

For some reason, Lancaster likes Freddie. It is unclear why. Maybe Freddie amuses Lancaster; maybe Lancaster sees Freddie as some sort of pet. Or maybe Lancaster wants to help Freddie; maybe he sees him as a pet project. At any rate, Lancaster thinks he can give Freddie the structure and discipline that he so desperately needs. And Freddie doesn’t have anything better to do. So he goes along with it.

In fact, before long, Freddie is fully immersed in the culture of The Cause. He goes to all of their functions, he gets to know everyone, and he follows Lancaster around like a lapdog.

Yet, it is never clear whether Freddie really buys it. On the one hand, Freddie often displays fierce—even psychotic—loyalty to Lancaster and The Cause. Plus, he regularly attends, and even participates in, many of the rituals and procedures conducted by Lancaster. On the other hand, Freddie infuriates other cult members by seeming emotionally detached and apathetic toward The Cause’s guiding principles. So it is unclear whether Freddie is devoted to The Cause, or just playing along.

One wonders what “The Master” is trying to get at. It is not a smear. Its point is not to expose cults and cult leaders as fraudulent, corrupt, or silly. Of course, Lancaster and The Cause are fraudulent, corrupt, and silly. Lancaster is also manipulative and abusive. He is controlling, foolish, arrogant, and mean. But Freddie is no better. Freddie, who doesn’t like playing by the rules, is a crass, hurtful, self-destructive mess. He has no master, but maybe he could use one.

So it is easy, I guess, to think fondly of oneself as the master of one’s own life, or else as a devoted servant, or as a leader of others. What “The Master” does is make all this tougher. It needles at what it means and what it takes to be a master, or have a master; and it really makes you think about whether, and to what extent, you are, or should be, taking directions from others.

“The Master” is without a doubt interesting and perplexing—it is very different (a lot of critics have called it “ambitious”, whatever that means. I think it may just mean different, and also kind of heady.). It is the kind of movie where you walk out of the theater unsure if you loved it or if you were just impressed by it.

There is no denying that “The Master” is impressive. For one thing, the acting is phenomenal. Anderson seems to have a knack for getting actors to deliver almost unbelievable but absolutely unforgettable performances (see Daniel Day Lewis in “There Will Be Blood” or Tom Cruise in “Magnolia”). Joaquin Phoenix’s performance as Freddie is along those lines. It’s a sight to see.

So maybe you will love “The Master” (I think I might). Maybe you won’t. It is worth finding out.

"Beasts of the Southern Wild"

By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News

“Beasts of the Southern Wild” is a very simple story about a little girl, her dad, and their will to thrive in conditions that are hardly survivable. Yet, this movie is also rich and complex and way more interesting than any description might suggest. It requires looking at, hearing, feeling—this movie has to be experienced.

“Beasts of the Southern Wild” looks and feels kind of like one of those artsy Levi’s Jeans commercials—the ones with breathy voiceover, Wagner music, and kids running in the street with sparklers. Now, unlike the Levi’s commercials, which you at least want to hate because they are supposed to be deep and interesting and avant-garde but they are really just selling you denim after all, the look and feel of “Beasts of the Southern Wild” is unequivocally affecting, and it actually adds something of value to the movie.

For instance, the look and feel of this movie’s setting is important. It takes place in an extremely impoverished (and technically fictional) area near New Orleans called ‘the Bathtub’. Residents of the Bathtub live in what look to be modified mobile homes. They look like mobile homes just because they are rectangular, plain, and dingy; and they are “modified” just in the sense that they are propped up and slapped together mostly with sheet metal, plywood, chicken wire and assorted bits of refuse. On the inside, these homes are cluttered, unkempt, and about as filthy as filthy gets (I cannot emphasize this last point enough).

The Bathtub looks and feels like a poverty-stricken wasteland. Yet, there is also something surprisingly upbeat about this place. The residents want to be there. They think that the Bathtub is the most beautiful place on earth. Sure, they are poor and sick; they shuffle around in mud and garbage all day, and every single night they get blackout drunk on moonshine and cheap beer. But these folks live this way with unshakable enthusiasm, spirit—even defiance. They want to live this way. They choose to live this way. The Bathtub is home.

The Bathtub’s most upbeat and defiantly hopeful resident is Hushpuppy (Quvenzhane Wallis). Hushpuppy is a six-year-old girl. One might say that she lives with her dad, Wink (Dwight Henry), but that would be misleading since Wink comes and goes as he pleases and pretty much leaves Hushpuppy to her own devices. Really, Hushpuppy is her own woman. She roams freely. She is bold and fearless. She hardly every cries, whines, asks for more food, or complains about anything. Hushpuppy embraces the Bathtub; she looks at the squalor and calls it wonderful.

Then a hurricane comes. Rain and wind assail the Bathtub and its flimsy shanties. Hushpuppy’s squalid home becomes one big dirty ocean. There is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and no one to look to for help.

Yet, miraculously, many of the Bathtub’s denizens survive. They—including Hushpuppy and her dad—come together, work together, live together, and find a way to make life livable. And Hushpuppy thrives. Her attitude and personality, both of which are ridiculously endearing, develop and deepen even despite her tribulations. Her optimism and courage don’t flag even one tiny little bit.

Hushpuppy is a force of nature. And it is her character that really drives “Beasts of the Southern Wild”. Quvenzhane Wallis’ acting is mindboggling. It is difficult to imagine how Wallis could possibly not really be Hushpuppy in real life. Her infectiously courageous attitude—more like her spirit—seems to come from somewhere deep down. It seems like the kind of thing that cannot be faked or produced at will. Without that spirit, I’m not sure “Beasts of the Southern Wild” would be all that good.

But this movie is all that good. It evokes a very complex and probably hard to evoke kind of feeling. That feeling involves sadness—a very deep sort of sadness that comes from witnessing an innocent little girl subjected to the most awful and terrifying conditions. However, the feeling that I am talking about also involves the sense that, despite all the sadness, misery, and ugliness in the Bathtub, there is something good and right and beautiful going on there too. Hushpuppy is a hero. And it may just be because she is able to see the goodness in her suffering, because she is courageous in the face of horror, and because she is tested in ways that no six-year-old should be tested, that Hushpuppy and “Beasts of the Southern Wild” are so worthy of our admiration.