Saturday, October 17, 2009

Seriously? Coen Brothers' Newest Film is Unrelenting


'A Serious Man'
Review: 4.5/5

"I'm not an evil man!" Larry Gopnik screams in his stuffy, collegiate office, and with legitimate reason. He's been the unfortunate victim of unmotivated divorce, a possible bribery scandal, a car accident, and anonymous letters that denigrate him and his chances for tenure. His neighbors hate him. A naked woman visible from Gopnik's house roof distracts him infinitely. He's forced to move out of his own home and into a cheap motel with his brother in law, Arthur, whose brilliance manifests in very unfortunate ways. His son steals money for pot. His daughter does the same for a nose job. And on top of that, the rabbis he visits offer, essentially, superficial advice that amounts to more and more questioning. It's an exhausting decathlon that Gopnik takes valiantly in stride, even though all signs point to an eventual self-implosion. He's a 21st century hero who battles an intangible enemy without any apparent weaknesses.

"Many people lose track of Hashem," says the unusually young rabbi Gopnik visits first, offering him no help in his existential struggle that, at this point, is only beginning to mount. Frustrated, Gopnik storms out of the rabbi's office, and into his own, where a phone conversation suggests that by doing nothing, one is subject to torment. Gopnik, who teaches physics at the collegiate level, finds himself at odds with these unexplainable phenomena. Mathematics can answer everything, can't it? This is a question the Coen's posit, but that they do not explicitly answer, out of respect for the spectator's intelligence. After all, they've given the audience plenty of signs that suggest various possible solutions to all of Gopnik's unwarranted problems. An opening prologue offers more of a clear answer, but I feel there is much more to it than is initially presented. To avoid spoiling the jarring adventure for readers, I'll refrain from a gratuitous discussion of the film's possible meanings.

Suffice it to say that the film, which is shot with a kind of continuously dynamic framing that adds a certain gravitas to the seemingly insignificant setbacks, has a strong element of macabre that is emphasized with the Coen's use of an oddly thunderous score that builds gently until the film's final, disturbing frame.  

Friday, October 16, 2009

No One's a King, They're All Children


'Where the Wild Things Are'
Review: 5/5

The opening scene in director Spike Jonze's adaptation of Maurice Sendak's children's book, 'Where the Wild Things Are' features the film's protagonist, Max, a young pre-adolescent whose energy only exceeds his imagination, ferociously chasing what seems to be a dog, but the cutting is so rapid and exhilarating it's hard to know for sure. This scene firmly sets the tone of Jonze's audacious interpretation of 'Wild Things,' an innovative and bold film that, in time, will be recognized as a landmark achievement in imaginative sovereignty, formally and aesthetically, that should have devout classical Hollywood cinema enthusiasts scoffing and discarding the emotional resonance this film produces.

The film plays distinctly by Max's emotional tones which generally dictate the plot developments, thereby creating a much more relatable world for children (though this realization may startle them). Max lives with his single mother and sister who, from his tender perspective, ignore him and disregard his requests for participation in his endlessly inventive attempts to fashion artificial worlds that serve as a fortress for his solitude. Frustrated that he feels abnormal, Max initiates a fight with his mother, bites her shoulder, and tears off into the night. Into another realm populated by 'Wild Things' that carry with them their own unfounded insecurities, and take a genuine liking to Max after he makes unrealistic promises about being a sort of saint. He's destined to save the 'Things,' whose world is made up of circular homes built of sticks, a rock fortress with tunnels, sand dunes, and a sun that dies. The world is cast in drab greys, browns, golds, interspersed with greens, and whites - an aesthetic palate that compliments the 'Things' and Max's constantly oscillating emotions. It's an uncompromising visual triumph and a candid plea for filmmaking ingenuity in the 21st century, shattering expectations of universal tradition and cultural labels. Max is unapologetically feral and violent, the 'Things' are vulnerable and thoroughly insecure, Max's sister doesn't jokingly dislike him, she ignores him altogether, and his Mother doesn't spout off inane cliches during the film's denouement. It's a daring amalgamation of vastly conflicted, anarchistic characters that all genuinely desire to be loved.

Even more anarchic than Max and the 'Things', is the film's loose narrative structure, which deviates from Hollywood formula. Yet, the film's content renders that deviation motivated: it's an escape to a world where we see through Max's childlike imagination - an escape from a world of rules and science, and into a land engineered only by sporadic imagination. This is not to say the film defies story to the point of theme deprivation. In fact, the film carries with it classic themes of love, forgiveness, and impatience.

In an era that this country is in now, an otherworldly film like this offers the purest, most authentic form of escape. If only we were as enlightened as Max. 

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Owen, MacKay Elevate 'Boys' Beyond Melodrama


'The Boys Are Back'
Review: 3/5

Director Scott Hicks' 'The Boys Are Back' could have easily been a vapid tale of regret and loss suitable for daytime syndication on the Lifetime Channel, but, under Hicks' tender direction the film soars as a charming ode to life after grief; a study of sorrow merged with vivacity that infuses the film with a kind of dual atmosphere, brought all the more to fruition by Clive Owen's portrayal of a benevolent father without a clue, and by George MacKay, as Owen's eldest, estranged son, Harry, who deserves Oscar consideration for his heartrending turn as a tormented teen growing up without a father.

The plot is relatively familiar, although it is, I'm told, inspired by a true story: Joe Warr (Owen) is an esteemed Australian sportswriter with a lovely wife, a young son (Nicholas McAnulty), and an older son (MacKay) who's the product of a failed marriage. Warr's current wife dies suddenly, her death being attributed to the all-too-familiar cancer epidemic, and it becomes Warr's mission to reunite his two sons, abandoning rules and responsibilities in favor of various forms of amusement. "Just say yes," Warr posits, in a valiant, if flawed, effort to divert his sons' focus from tragedy into an effervescent, cathartic lifestyle free of austerity. That this demonstration of carelessness ultimately leads to obvious plot developments is forgivable, considering the exceptional nature of the overall production.

The cinematography by Greig Fraser, relying on warm summer hues that elicit the quiet, buzzing nature and tone of the overall film is some of the best of the year. An opening sequence of Warr speeding down an Australian beach at sunset in an SUV with his youngest son resting on the windshield, screaming with excitement, is lensed with an idyllic, almost dreamlike tracking shot that discreetly alters its focus to the horizon as the SUV speeds on. This photography gorgeously indicates not only Fraser's ability to find a sense of life in the indistinct haze of dusk, but Hicks' deft directorial feel for perseverance, no matter how gentle the message may be. It's a genuine, inspiring film during a time of recession.

Arrogant 'Amreeka': A 96-Minute Sermon


'Amreeka'
Review: 2/5

There's a palpably didactic declaration that echoes throughout writer/director Cherien Dabis' unambiguously biased American-immigration character study, 'Amreeka,' that insists that a Palestinian view of a recently post 9-11 U.S. is saturated with offensively drawn caricatures, elementary discussion of the Iraq war, the starkness of which is derisory, and an impressionable protagonist, Muna, that's continually susceptible to the oppressive American government, inhabited by malicious police officers, and bankers that politely ask that Muna not blow the bank up if she is to be hired. Not surprisingly, she isn't hired. Instead she's forced to work in a conveniently presented 'White Castle.' When asked by her niece why she didn't at least pick 'Wendy's' she sighs and disregards the comment. America to her is a 'White Castle,' lacking color and inspiration, peopled with overtly oppressive supervisors, and a teenage dropout named 'Matt,' which Muna advises translates to mean 'death' in Arabic. Come on.

The film, which documents Muna and her teenage son Fadi's migration to America, Illinois to be more precise, initially presents these two characters as hopeful and eager to pursue a freer life in the states. Yet, once they arrive at an American airport, they're subject to unnecessary racial profiling that borders on absurdity when an overbearingly stern police officer confiscates a cookie jar that he believes could cause a threat to the airport's safety. It doesn't stop there. Once enrolled in a nearby high-school, Fadi, who's only shown in a class conveniently titled 'Current World Issues' endures white skater-teens' defense of America's invasion of Iraq, while Fadi and his cousin, clearly, argue against this notion. Why the white American teens in this film are intentionally portrayed as racist dogmatists without any significant counter-representation is evidence of an inconsiderate filmmaker who disregards fact to make a superficial argument seem factual. Michael Moore would be proud. And yet, it gets worse. Fadi is soon inundated with the teenage 'American' lifestyle which, we are told, instructs him to wear baggy hoodies and smoke marijuana. On his first night being particularly stoned, he decides to slash the tires of the bigoted white kids in his class. He's in-turn the victim of a beating at school, which the white principal (who we soon learn is a Polish-Jew who can't seem to catch a break in America due to, according to him, his cultural background) justifies, affirming Muna that they're just silly kids.

Aesthetically the film seeks to impart a sense of graphic realism, utilizing a verite' style of shooting that works initially in the film's poignant exposition, but is then compromised by the cartoonish representation of Palestinian life in America. These elements compete when they should unite, creating an uneven narrative and technical balance, which Dabis embraces, attempting to mask superficiality with faux-realism.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

'Retreat' is Harmless


'Couples Retreat'
Review: 3/5

There's something about the banter between Vince Vaughn and Jon Favreau that brings an element of languor to any film they approach. Peter Billingsley's 'Couples Retreat,' is no exception, pairing the aforementioned duo with the hilariously deadpan Jason Bateman and the seemingly impressionable Kristen Bell. The film offers nothing extraordinary by any stretch, but its gentle approach to contemporary relationships suggests lighthearted fare that aims to be nothing more than a jocular compilation of familiar humor and conventionally drawn characters.

If you've seen any of the countless trailers, you know the premise. Bateman's relationship with Bell is approaching rocky terrain, so the two coerce their friends into a week-long vacation at the ominously titled 'Eden' - a picturesque beach that "looks like a screen-saver." Once the group realizes that they're in for early-morning therapy and "couples skill-building," hilarity ensues. Original, thoughtful hilarity? Not by any means. But if you enjoy Vaughn ranting incessantly about the restraints of the island, Bateman playing his quintessential straight man, Jean Reno as an eccentric French therapist, a gratuitous 'Guitar Hero' battle, cameos from John Michael Higgins and Ken Jeong, and kitschy little kids that say the darndest things, then this film will more than satisfy. If you're looking for the next 'Hangover,' I would politely advise you to stay away. Far, far away.

The film is essentially director Billingsley's debut (IMDB informs me he directed and indie film in 1994), and judging from the film's story and pacing, he seems to be more suited for the television medium. He lacks a distinguishable style and most commonly resorts to standard shot compositions and an exceedingly traditional mise-en-scene that seeks to play strictly by the book with no evidence of personal insight or an honest knack for comedy (credit Vaughn, Bateman, and Favreau for their flawless comedic timing and execution). An opening montage offers mild suggestion otherwise, but, all things considered, this film knows its disposition.

Scariest Movie of All Time?... I'd Say No.


'Paranormal Activity'
Review: 2.5/5

Maybe I'm a victim of a superfluous marketing campaign that made insincere promises about the tonal gravity of Oren Peli's 'Paranormal Activity'. Or maybe the film authentically is more than a bit tedious. Observing the film's protagonists Micah and Katie biding their time at home, busying themselves with talk of a demonic presence that's haunted Katie since she was eight years old, does not at all build tension. It builds frustration and provides the film with an ongoing anticipatory nature that never satisfies the spectator's desire to be genuinely scared.

During the film's overstayed exposition (it lasts more than twenty minutes in a ninety minute film), Micah and his girlfriend Katie, who are unusually agoraphobic for some reason, discuss the demonic presence ad-nauseam in a monotonous 'chit-chat' manner. This is, of course, when they're not conversing about Micah's consistent use of the camera, providing the audience with his point of view throughout the prolonged daytime sequences that merely amount to the inevitable bedtime scenes, which linger for far too long, consistently with an unsatisfying result (after the first twenty minutes... a door slams shut. Terrifying). Yet, these night sequences, which are viewed through a static camera with a 'night-vision setting,' I will admit, are a bit unnerving. Why the director chose to utilize these scenes to create an unnecessary, eventual sort of expectation, I do not know, since the film never offers any form of fulfillment.

The faux-documentary conceit is supposed to, I'm assuming, add a level of false realism to the film. This phony 'reality' is plagued by the continuing perspective of the camera. For the majority of the film, we are to believe that we're looking though Micah's point of view, but there are various scenes that follow Micah while Katie's in another room. Who's holding the camera? The so-called 'reality' is compromised in an arbitrary attempt to build tension. And this tension amounts to (SPOILER ALERT): slammed doors, a swinging chandelier, a broken picture frame, and grating off-screen noise. These elements could very well produce tension and fear, if only they were to add up to a rewarding climax.