'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.

'Silence' is Deafening: Foreign Film is One of the Year's Best

'Lorna's Silence'

Review: 5/5

In a scene early in the Dardennes brothers' newest film, 'Lorna's Silence' Lorna, played with a quiet fervor and insipid self-deprecation by Arta Dobroshi, is caught in the middle of her decrepit apartment living room, while her arranged husband Claudy (played exceptionally by Jeremie Renier) pleads with her to help him stay off heroin. She hesitantly refuses, but words do not communicate this altercation. Watch Dobroshi's face as she considers Claudy's request: the spectator can completely interpret what she's thinking as she scans her mind for a sincere, but firm way to respond to Claudy's inquiry. Such is the success of the film, which is part drama, part psychological thriller (an unnervingly quiet thriller shot with documentary-style realism). The Dardennes brothers focus intensively on the character of Lorna, who's caught in a dual lifestyle that slowly begins to corrode while she struggles to live the life she's dreamed of.

The story centers around Lorna and her husband. They're Albanian emigrants in Belgium that maintain an unusual desire to open up a snack shop, but, in order to do so, they need money, and a permanent resident status. An Italian mobster, Andrei, helps Lorna and her husband with this issue, concocting a plan to have Claudy, a heroin junkie, marry Lorna in order to gain citizenship, then divorce and remarry her real husband. Yet, as is obvious, affairs are not carried out in the proper manner. Without giving away spoilers, suffice it to say Lorna finds herself guilt-ridden, spiraling downward into the fringes of insanity. Watching Dobroshi slowly implode, both mentally and physically, is to be witness to an incomparable exhibition of the malaise caused distinctly by various forms of exhaustion. The performance is worthy of an Oscar. She will be nominated.

Much credit needs to be attributed to the Dardennes brothers for creating a tone of harrowing disquiet by utilizing such a limited formal technique. The tension in this film is comparable to that displayed effectively in the Coens' 'No Country for Old Men,' constructed not by a lingering soundtrack or long stretches of dialogue, but by a naturalistic technical style, and, equally, Dobroshi's multilayered portrayal of Lorna, whose gradual decline occasionally results in self-mutilation. That no one involved in the affair bothers to notice the extent of Lorna's desolation, not because they are unconcerned with her, but because her level of hubris is abnormally high, subtly proves her resolute willingness to exert herself far beyond her boundaries to live the life she wants. 

'Whip' Never Cracks: Formula Falls Flat in Drew Barrymore's Directorial Debut

'Whip It'

Review: 2.5/5

Despite the mise-en-scene built entirely of loud primary colors, the great original concept, and the promise of Ellen Page playing a derivative of her delightfully anarchic 'Juno,' 'Whip It' staggers across the screen with an unusual didactic sensibility, thoroughly founded in kitsch. Throughout the film the spectator is explicitly reminded that women are uncompromising in their desires, blinded to the point of intentional stubbornness. What could have been a delicate character study is morphed into a hybrid of childlike decorum and fatuous feminine lament (the dad, played by Daniel Stern, drinks beer and watches football). The result limits the actors to one-dimensional anachronisms required by the film's conventional approach to a non-conventional subject.

Ellen Page plays Bliss Cavendar, a former beauty-pageant participant living in the archetypal small-town anywhere USA where ennui rules and nothing 'cool' ever happens to anyone. Especially poor Bliss who bides her time living through her mother's vicarious dreams for her. Needless to say, when Bliss discovers a roller-derby in a nearby town (Austin, TX), she lies about her age and joins the team. She becomes the star, the team starts winning games, she falls in love, she falls out of love, she upsets her mother with her defiant adherence to roller-derby, etc. You can see where this one's going.

What's most unfortunate, though, is that Page, who is an actress of considerable talent, exhibited in 'Juno,' 'The Tracy Fragments,' and 'Hard Candy,' is limited to a character that has two defining characteristics: indifference and a kind of atypical benevolence that only comes to fruition in the film's last act. This permits Page the opportunity to pout her way through the shamelessly obvious impediments that anyone taking on this new endeavor would very likely face. I wanted to empathize with Bliss, but given her direction to maintain a quiet, bellicose temperament, I became eventually annoyed with her superficial demeanor, even though it seems that Page is attempting, scene by scene, to layer her muted performance.

The film is shot with the aforementioned loud primary colors, which proves to be the filmic equivalent of a moving 'Hello Kitty' bus. It assaults the spectator, reminding us that we'd better be paying attention... or else. The direction by Barrymore is respectable given that this is her first outing in the position. She does come across with a very recognizable visual style, I'll admit, but the film, which attempts to be a punk-rock ode to bored teenage girls in rural towns, makes a cacophonous wail, urging for recognition.

 

 

Style Over Substance: 'Fame' is all Flash

'Fame'

Review: 1.5/5

The general moral that the 'Fame' story seems to posit is that, whether or not diligence grants individually desired results, it is in our best nature to keep going - to move on, to "live forever." In this contemporary reboot of an already popular musical, director Kevin Tancharoen insists that the spectator accept the deliberate lack of story in substitute for disorienting dance sequences, cut together with a ferocious intensity that would have 'Transformers' director Michael Bay inquiring: "What the hell is going on?" The film plays out like an overwrought music-video montage, featuring shallow, stereotypical characters with no depth or genuine insight. But to Tancharoen, that's not the point. Character and story serve merely as a combined backdrop for the wildly choreographed dance numbers, assembling an overly-urbanized atmosphere that deprives 'Fame' of its most profound messages.

The film, which follows several students attending the New York City High School for the Performing Arts - their areas of focus all blatantly complimenting their racial and class status: the Black and Hispanic guys produce Hip-Hop, the goofy Jewish kid writes screenplays, the evidently gay male is a ballet dancer, etc. Why couldn't the Black guy be a ballet dancer? Why couldn't a gay male produce Hip-Hop? I suppose these are unfair questions considering the film prides itself on adherence to formula - the most diluted of formulas, but formula nonetheless.

I don't need to describe where this film is going. If you haven't seen 'Fame' in any medium, just watch the trailer. No surprises here. No attention to story either, which is unfortunate seeing that the drama carries with it such culturally relevant themes of persistence and hope (great themes for a film in a time of recession). That said, it's a bit frightening that 'Fame,' whose audience is clearly the vulnerable child-demographic, contends that the world in urban areas is brimming with cultural stereotypes. And given the continual box-office success of films in this same genre (Step-Up, Stomp the Yard, Take the Lead), these stereotypes are destined to live forever.

Passionate and Devout: An Aspiring Writer with a Knack for Performance

A friend of mine from film school, Ross Everett, has been developing a television pilot for the last few years, relentlessly seeking guidance from our friends and professors in an impassioned attempt to actualize a sitcom that candidly studies the standard post-graduate ambition lost in the banal ennui of everyday life. That sitcom with the inspired title of 'twentynothings' could have been the brainchild of any college graduate that's played 'Guitar Hero' a few too many times. What differentiates Everett is his longing to endure. 

I first read a draft of the pilot my junior year as an undergrad upon his request for criticism, and gave him my honest opinion of the show, alleging that it was an unmitigated achievement for an early draft, before offering my probably too-in-depth critique. He'd forget about the thing anyway in a few weeks, I thought. When I got a call from Everett late that summer before we were to begin our senior year informing me that a staff writer from 'The Colbert Report' had commended his writing ability and tenacious drive, I began to think otherwise. Sure enough, throughout the next year he asked me to read various new drafts of the pilot, which he had thoroughly doctored under the mentorship of one of our more respected professors. That drove home the point: he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

So it doesn't necessarily surprise me that, during his current internship at 'The Tonight Show with Conan O'Brien,' he found himself climbing the theoretical 'ladder,' even being offered a paying job. Whether or not he accepted employment is unbeknownst to me (I have yet to return his most recent phone call being the dawdler that I am), but I do know that his persistence has lead to, at the very least, an appearance in a recent skit on O'Brien's program.

In the skit, Everett plays a Police Officer (he wields what seems to be a shotgun in the first scene) who doesn't mind enjoying a beer with a few wrongfully accused African-American men - a satire on the Gates/Crowell incident that lead to Obama's inviting both men to the White House for a beer. What proves evident in the brief video is not necessarily how Everett performs - he's pleasantly histrionic beyond all means - but why he had the chance to perform. The answer: tenacity. 

It's an admirable, necessary quality if he is to succeed up to his own particular standards. What he lacks in innate talent, he more than compensates for in determination. But let it be known, should a sensible director put out a casting call, Everett won't be auditioning for the extra with one line: he'll be vying earnestly for the lead. And he'll probably get it. In the meantime, he'll be revising 'twentynothings' until it appears on premium cable.

Check him out on 'The Tonight Show with Conan O'Brien.'

http://www.hulu.com/watch/86200/the-tonight-show-with-conan-obrien-blue-and-black-lager

Humane, Honest 'Happens'

'Love Happens'

Review: 3/5

While a lot of cliches may be derived from the trailers for 'Love Happens,' I am happy to report that, while these trite adages may be comfortably hidden in the film's sub-plot, the principal story is focused on a widower turned self-help guru, Burke Ryan (Aaron Eckhart), and his three-day tenure at a Seattle seminar. Eckhart, on the surface plays the charming, charismatic guru much like he did 'Nick Naylor' in the effervescent 'Thank You For Smoking.' Yet, once the film's first fifteen minutes pass, it becomes wildly evident: this guy has problems. 

The film then delves into a candid psychoanalysis of Eckhart's emotionally tormented protagonist with the genuine aid of Jennifer Aniston's 'Eloise,' a florist with an odd infatuation with unusual language (a brief scene with her utilizing sign language to evade Ryan's passes at her immediately defines this practice). Carried on as one of the film's signature motifs, these unusual words seemingly mirror the metaphysical distance between the two, which tends to, unusually, expand as the film progresses. This is an astute move by co-writer and director Brandon Camp, as it allows the characters to act according to their emotions, and not by the demands of a formulaic script.

The film's standout is Eckhart as a man constantly hidden behind a self-induced facade, and unwilling to come to terms with reality. Eckhart's ability to discreetly transcend emotions of remorse, bliss, rage, and desperation makes the film hard not to watch; it's as if we're witnessing a slow-coming personal enlightenment, and we feel for him. And believe me, he could have easily been written as a detestable character. Again, credit the co-writer and director.

Aniston is essentially typecast as the love interest that piques Ryan's diligent enthusiasm in finding a new love, doing all that is necessary of her character to do. In essence, she hits all the right notes for a film that requires an empathetic supporting character, more 'guru' herself it turns out than Eckhart's 'Ryan.' Martin Sheen, as Eckhart's estranged father-in-law is presented in stereotypical form, until the film's climax when a reversal is revealed, not only layering Sheen's performance, but reminding the spectator that even the most stubborn of humans are compassionate.

The film is cast in grey, white and green tones thereby establishing a dreary setting, dynamic in its sparse beauty; fascinating if only one views it from the right perspective.