Movie Review - Rise of the Planet of the Apes

It is possible for special effects to be TOO good.

Not that the excellent special effects ruin “Rise of The Planet of The Apes,” one of the latest updates to the update of a Hollywood blockbuster produced not out of artistic passion but a fairly transparent attempt to cash in on something that did have artistic passion by a Hollywood system so jaded an uninspired that they’ve simply stopped even trying to actually make original material and instead just make rehashes of rehashes of ideas that honestly weren’t that great to begin with.

Exhale.

Venting complete.

Back to the film. You already know the story. Man versus ape. Though set in the present, this film would chronologically fall in line as a prequel to the original 1968 Charlton Heston-starrer in which the term “damned dirty apes” was first entered into the audience lexicon. Something of an origin story, this latest film sets the table for how the world grows to become run by our somewhat hairier ancestors.

We follow the development of Caesar, played in digital form by Andy Serkis of “Lord of the Rings” fame who at this point must be wondering if he’ll ever get such a high grossing movie with his real face on the billboard. We first meet Caesar as a cute and cuddly orphan at a scientific lab. He’s fortunate enough to be adopted/kidnapped by a loving research scientist, Will Rodman, played by James Franco. We see boy grow into man, developing sadness and complex emotions along the way. The CGI team does a wonderful job of displaying these small changes on our furry star’s face. But herein lies the rub.

While I enjoyed seeing the apes emote, at no point was I unaware of the computerized magic behind the movements. The animals look PERFECT. And that’s the problem.

I was having a discussion last night about the current state of retouching in still portraits of celebrities. Since the advent of digital cameras and Photoshop, anybody with a PC (or Mac) and few minutes to kill can make even their most awkward uncle into Brad Pitt. It’s so easy to buff out our blemishes that to see even a single hair out of place in a major magazine causes mass panic.

We can all look perfect!

But perfection saps us of our humanity.

The cheap secret to human kind, and movie kind, is that it is our imperfections that make us unique. That thing we hate is the very thing that makes us special. Jimmy Stewart’s stilted vocal cadence. Audrey Hepburn’s long neck. Bogart’s lisp. None of these people would be considered perfect in today’s Photoshop society, but every one of them is a legend.
Great movies are the same. They wow us over despite their kinks. The great super cheesy B-movies, past and present, in who’s company any movie involving a battle between apes and humans surely exists, are rife with imperfection. Terrible corny stop-motion monsters. So called “aliens” who are little more than grown men in leotards and earmuffs (soooo wish I was making that up). Very very very very poor line readings from actors making both their debut film and their final film simultaneously. These are all hallmarks of what this kind of film is all about.

But with flawless special effects and an Oscar nominee playing our heroic cardboard cutout lead character, much of that magic is lost.

So what do I expect? Do I want them to make the movie worse? Not necessarily. But at a certain point, Hollywood began to confuse its A-movies with its B-movies. They began giving the top budgets to what really should be low budget drive-in flicks, and started short changing A-movies by relegating them to their “indie” divisions.

Rise of the Planet of the Apes is a proud B movie. You’ve already seen the plot. It’s essentially “The Great Escape” with apes. You’re already seen the characters. IMDB insists that Freida Pinto’s character has a name, but you’ll probably know her best as “The Girl.” Just there to be beautiful, say as few lines as possible, and reassure the audience that our leading man is, in fact, heterosexual.

It’s an enjoyable movie. You won’t be bored or disappointed. It just could’ve been so much better. Simply by being a little worse.

Something Borrowed - Movie Review

She can do better.

And therein lies the problem with “Something Borrowed.”

Had a chance to catch up on this romantic comedy starring Ginnifer Goodwin, Kate Hudson, and John Krasinski over the weekend on DVD. I like romantic comedies, and the trailer looked charming enough. Plus I’m a fan of Miss Goodwin, an actress with tremendous charm and an unmistakable future. I even like the rest of the cast.

Just not in this movie.

Goodwin plays Rachel, a successful but single lawyer in New York City. She’s supposedly the unattractive one. I say “supposedly,” because only in the realm of a Hollywood movie would someone that looks like Ginnifer Goodwin have trouble attracting a man.

Her best friend Darcy, played by Kate Hudson, has no such trouble. This is despite that fact that she is one of the singularly most annoyed characters ever to grace, or should I say shame, the silver screen. I like Miss Hudson as an actress, so I’ll put the blame for this on director Luke Greenfield, but sweet Moses is she a bitter pill to swallow. She’s apparently Rachel’s best friend from childhood, for reasons the movie never quite explains, even though no one in the movie seems to be able to stand her.

That includes their best friend Ethan, played by John Krasinski from television’s “The Office.” He’s been nursing an unspoken crush on Rachel for years, but mostly shows it by being her sounding board throughout her romantic escapades. Ethan is meant to be this movie’s Duckie Dale, the memorable sidekick to Molly Ringwald in the John Hughes classic “Pretty in Pink.” Devoted and loyal. Willing to offer all his love if only she would look his way. And everyone in the audience knows he’ll never get his shot.

Of course, there’s only one problem with that summation. That film had Jon Cryer, an actor who’s built a living on being sweet but unappealing to women. It’s possible to believe that Molly Ringwald would be his one true shot at happiness. This film has John Krasinski. Are you starting to see my point? No matter how good an actor he may be, there’s no amount of acting that will be able to convince me that he would have the least amount of trouble finding a replacement. In fact, one of the running jokes of the movie is a one night stand that Ethan has that leaves him ducking the advances of yet another attractive woman Claire, played by Ashley Williams, throughout the movie. If there’s a tragedy in his inability to get Rachel, it’s that he’s too chicken to say anything to her, not that she’s his only chance for true love.

And then there’s her true love, Dex, played by Colin Egglesfield. Apparently, this is supposed to be the love of Rachel’s life. Again, the word “apparently” alludes to the fact that these two have absolutely zero chemistry on screen. And while sure he may have male model looks and a degree of pedestrian charm, there’s very little to recommend Dex as a boyfriend or as a leading man. He’s actually the kind of stiff that most romantic comedy heroines would spend their ninety minutes trying to avoid. So while all the emotion swings of the film hinge on her desire to be with him, the audience can’t help but to think in the back of their minds, she can do better.

Truth be told, everyone involved can do better. That includes the filmmakers. An interested enough premise for a romantic comedy, but in the end any love story depends on our desire to see the characters end up together. This one just leaves me wondering if there’s anything better behind door three?

DRIVE - Movie Review

People often ask me why I hate action movies.

This is, of course, an impossible question. Impossible because it's based on an incorrect assumption. Because, while action movies very rarely make it onto my list of great films, I do still appreciate the genre. In fact, when done well, I downright love the genre. The problem is, when it comes to making action thrillers these day, it just doesn't seem as though they are trying very hard. Computer generated effects do not a great movie make. And the writer by committee approach to most studio action flicks gives a whole new meaning to the time honored phrase "too many cooks in the kitchen." Or maybe the simple fact is that most action directors these days simply just aren't very good.

From the opening frames of Nicolas Winding Refn's new potboiler, "Drive," we know that we've at least avoided that last pitfall.

Methodically and confidently building suspense not through showy effects, but through basic pacing and a sharp (note: not necessarily quick) editing, he announces his intentions early. He's going to tell us a story. He's not going to rush. He's not going to try to bowl us over what he can do with the camera. He's simply going to tell us a story. And he's going to tell it well.

As the 1980's infused pop score plays over the opening credits, we realize this film is throwback in more ways than one. Not simply an homage to Walter Hill's brilliant Ryan O'Neal starrer "The Driver," but a testiment to the crime thriller itself. In a way, this film's roots trace it's inspiration to an even earlier time, the film noir movement of the late 40's and 50's. A genre whose morally ambiguous leading men often found themselves roaming the streets trying to find a way out of a dilemna they themselves have created. Fighting a system they have no hope to actually conquer. In a seemingly inevitable race against time itself.

Like many of those brilliant early works of cinema, "Drive" takes place in the bright and guilty place itself, Los Angeles. But not the Los Angeles of glitterati and movie premieres. Instead, it dwells in the city's lower depths. The places where the bottom feeders and the broken dreamers nurse their afflictions of disappointment at the bottom of a bottle or in the arms of the closest warm body.

It's a Los Angeles, that many Angelenos know too well. For every Hollywood star, there are a thousand would-be's that just never quite made it. For every mansion, there are ten thousands hovels inhabited by those whose expectations have gone from fame and riches to simply trying to make it through the day.

Ryan Gosling's character, known simply as "Driver," exists in such a place. Possessing the natural gifts to take any NASCAR driver in a one-on-one race, he instead uses his talents to shepard around would-be criminals for five minute intervals at a time. Selling his services to the highest bidder, we can imagine a younger version of The Driver who might have one day had much more lofty dreams. As he picks up odd jobs as a stunt man on Hollywood movie sets, we imagine a world where he too could be the leading man instead of simply a human test dummy.

Gosling plays the character with such innate saddness that every small joy is reason for our hearts the cheer. The small smile which creases his face at the innocence of a child. The larger smile gained by the sight of that child's mother, Irene, played by Carey Mulligan (An Education, Never Let Me Go), continuing her streak of characters who, despite my best efforts, I can't help but to fall in love with by the end of their time on screen.

Of course, Irene is living with her own disappointments. A single mother still tethered to a husband in prison. Living in the same shabby dwelling as her Driver neighbor. She deserves a smile too. And for a moment, the two lonely hearts get to have their happiness.

But only for a moment. If these were lives where dreams came true, these two would hardly be living in the situation they are now. If this were a world with easy answers, we'd be living in a different movie. And thank goodness for those viewing this masterwork of tension, we are not.

Instead, Refn weaves a tangled web coiled with intracate characters and memorable moments.

I chuckled for a moment when I realized that under the two leads and a memorable Albert Brooks playing against type as a very bad man who coincidentally is also somewhat connected to the movies, that the cast was basically filled with television all-stars. Bryan Cranston, currently crafting one of TV's most memorable characters on "Breaking Bad" plays The Driver's agent to the underworld and closest friend. Christina Hendricks, the hourglass-figured Joan Holloway from AMC's other Emmy hoarder "Mad Men" plays a pivotal role. Even resurgent Ron Perlman from "Sons of Anarchy" gets to sink his teeth into a meaty role made-to-order. This excellent casts supports a terrific ensemble of leads in a film with simply too many good moments to mention.
Fair warning, it can be brutal. I had to avert my eyes on more than one occasion to avoid being splattered with blood. The Driver doesn't believe in guns. But he's very much at home with blunt force.

Yet unlike the carbon copy action films that role off the Hollywood assembly line, every death in this film comes with consequence. Both for the victim and victor. This is a film where life counts. And while there will naturally be certain moviegoers who simply enjoy the gore, a more refined viewer will see that this callous extinguishing of life is yet another layer of melancoly added to lives which already feel forgotten.

Bravo to Nicolas Winding Refn for crafting a film that not only satisfies the suspense junkie in all of us, but paints a complete portrait of complex characters living the best they can. These are people who already know that happily ever after isn't really an option for them. But to see the one you love smile back at you, even for just a moment, sometimes that's all you can ask for.

WARRIOR - Movie Review

It's one of the best kept secrets of good writing.

Sure, most stories come down to the battle between good and evil. The hero on the white horse dueling it out with the evil narcissist with the twirled mustache and a penchant for bad things. It's easy. The audience can always understand it. They know who to root for. With a well timed musical cue, they may even know when to root.
But, in real life, things are rarely so crystal clear. Life is lived in the grey areas and the distinction between black and white is hardly the wide gulf we were lead to believe. And our toughest decisions aren't the ones between a wrong and a right. They lie in deciding the greater good or the lesser of two evils. And this is where great stories come from.

While we know who we want to win between the capital G Good Guy and the capital B Bad Guy, try this scenario on for size. In Polish director Krzysztof Kieslowski's brilliant ten-part series, "The Decalogue," a doctor is presented with a quandry. A young wife comes to seek his expert advice. Her comatosed husband is under the doctor's care and the woman needs to know for sure whether he will live or die. The reason she needs to know with such immediacy is that she's just learned that she is pregnant. Her husband is not the father. Knowing what the news would do to her husband should he ever wake up, she considers an abortion. However, if he will never wake up, she will keep the baby. The doctor, a deeply religious man, is constrained between two hard choices. If he tells her the truth, that her husband will live, he is condemning the unborn child to death. However, saving the baby will require him to break another of the Ten Commandments by telling a lie. Which does he choose? You'll have to rent "The Decalogue" to find out.

In the new film "Warrior," from the director of "Miracle," Gavin O'Connor, the audience is faced with the opposite choice. The choice between the greater good. Like all sports movies, the film comes down to a battle between two teams. Or, in the case of a mixed martial arts movie, it's a battle between two individuals. Now for the catch. The two warriors are brothers.

Brendan Conlon, played with nice guy sincerity by Joel Edgerton, may have been an athlete in the past. But now on the wrong side of thirty, he teaches physics at a cheery suburban high school in Philadelphia.

His brother, Tommy Conlon, played by Tom Hardy is a recently returned war hero, budding alcoholic, and so filled with rage that one imagines, without life in the ring, he'd probably take out his frustrations on whoever passes him on the street.
Neither brother is a bad guy. And both's reasons for wanting to win the Sparta tournament (sort of like a MMA Super Bowl) are admirable. Brendan Conlon, a victim of a predatory bank loan and an unsympathetic school board is three weeks away from losing his house. Tommy feels he owes a greater debt, which I will not reveal here, but his need for the money is equally altruistic.

Tommy also draws a significant amount of rooting interest from the fact that he is a legitimate war hero. But as every punch deserves a solid counter punch, Brendan is nursing a serious case of parental neglect. Their alcoholic father, played with an appropriate sense of sadness by Nick Nolte, clearly has favored his super athlete son Tommy to the more reserved Brendan. And one can see Brendan's plight as equal parts providing for his loving family, while trying desperately to win the respect of his unloving father.

I'll admit. Watching the trailer for "Warrior," the too-cool-for-school side of me couldn't help raise the corny alarm. This is hardly a movie with much "indie" cred, despite low key cinematography by Masanobu Takayanagi. It's clearly a movie aimed squarely at playing your heart strings with a swelling musical score and characters so relatable that rooting against them would feel like rooting against our own family.
But, here's the thing. It worked. I found myself dabbing tears from my cheek on more than one occasion (shhh, don't tell anyone). And discovering that best kept secret, screenwriters Anthony Tambakis, Cliff Dorfman, and Gavin O'Connor, craft a compelling story where the audience has an impossible choice to make. Who do we want to win? What's the greater good.

Whichever hero you choose in the end, this film is definitely worth the price of admission. While the film doesn't necessarily break any new ground, it will break through your hardened emotional shell. Bring the tissues. Or, maybe just claim allergies when your date asks you about the droplets of water running from your eyes.

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Midnight in Paris - Film Review

Woody’s Back!!!!

For the last two decades, Woody Allen has been fighting a losing battle. Having set the comedic bar so high with films like “Annie Hall,” “Hannah and Her Sisters,” and “Manhattan,” he’d made himself something of a tough act to follow both from behind the camera and in front of it. The latter becoming a more and more difficult task as Woody behind the camera grew with age, and Woody in front of the camera just… aged. Suddenly, the nebbish scoundrel was no longer hilariously charming. As Woody grew older, the same character that at one time seemed charming was now, just sort of off-putting. Compound this with the uncomfortable nature of certain aspects of Woody’s real-life romantic affairs and it all combined to make the prospect of a Woody Allen romantic comedy suddenly far fetched. In recent years, he sought to address this problem by having different actors play their versions of Woody Allen. Larry David had a shot in “Whatever Works.” Anthony Hopkins and Josh Brolin both had their go in “You Will Meet A Tall Dark Stranger.” But while all of these actors have their talents, they are quite simply not Woody Allen.

Then comes Owen Wilson. One of the most talented comedy players in the last decade. His pugilist nose and wry smile seeming to belie a hilarious secret that only he knows. Graduated from broad comedies like “Wedding Crashers” and “Hall Pass,” he’s not the obvious choice for the Woody Allen surrogate. But, my oh my, was he the right one.

Watching “Midnight in Paris” brought back the joy of watching a Woody Allen movie that I hadn’t felt since “Deconstructing Harry.” The romance was back. The sharp dialogue and supporting characters were suddenly more alive. And the outlandish concept, a favorite of Woody Allen from films like “Sleeper” to “Zelig,” suddenly seemed less a stunt and more a perfectly sensible plot. And it was all tied together by a central performance by Owen Wilson.

How did he do this? How did the latest Woody Allen stand-in succeed where so many other talented actors had failed? Simple. He didn’t play Woody Allen. He played himself. Wilson’s character Gil may be spitting out Woodyisms left and right, but the being he inhabits is completely his own. Gil onscreen has far more in common with his lovable Roy O’Bannon character in “Shanghai Noon” than the fabled Alvy Singer of “Annie Hall.”

The distractions that accompany Woody Allen, both the real and fictional, melt away and are replaced by a protagonist we root for from reel one. We know that Inez, even if played by Rachel McAdams, is not the right woman for Gil. We can all relate to Gil’s wonderings of what his life would’ve been like if we were to have been born in a different era. We can all relate to Gil’s desire to follow his own dream, however impractical, despite pressures to take a more conventional course. And because of the delightful of Owen Wilson, we care about the outcome every step of the way.

I have no idea of knowing whether or not Woody Allen enjoyed working with Wilson as much as I enjoyed watching the results of their collaboration. But there’s a large part of me hoping that he too saw the possibilities. Just as Martin Scorsese seems to have been reinvigorated by what at first seemed an unlikely pairing with Leonardo DiCaprio, I can see a new string of work from Woody Allen with Mr. Wilson at the center. Not only can I see it, I’m hoping for it. After 43 years behind the camera, this film proves that Woody Allen has plenty to offer us yet. I can’t wait to see what’s next.