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mattbauer
Reviews
Groove (2000)
Hands Down the Worst movie EVER
The terms "best" and "worst" are bandied about ironically so often that they are meaningless. I have never committed to the absolute "best" or "worst" of anything until recently. After experiencing Brad Harrison's Groove, there is with out a doubt a champion.
My interest in the film sparked from both the high praise at Sundance and my background in the early rave scene. The terribly amusing promotional shots of a raver holding a discoball while riding the subway didn't hurt, either. After finally seeing the thoughtful, entertaining Human Traffic, I was ready for an American rave film. What I got was a sloppy hour-and-a-half episode of Mtv's Undressed.
Although the details of Groove are a bit hazy to me - I saw it a little over a year ago - this doesn't mean much as the details of Groove are hazy to those involved with its production. The script is sloppy, filled with one-dimensional cliches with disco-dancin' legs. We have the uptight nerd; the hot (yet clear-headed) chick; the wacky, offbeat druggies; the sleazy dealer; the oh-so-nice hippie, susceptible for a double-cross. I suspect that first-time writer/director Greg Harrison used The Big Book of Cliched Dialogue to write most of the characters' verbage. For example, as a camera slow closes in on the serious face of a lead character, he says, with true conviction, "It's not over 'til the last record spins."
Much like Human Traffic, the film never makes a definitive message about drug usage (which plays a large part in both films). But Justin Kerrigan's film closes allowing the viewer to draw his/her own conclusion. The only use narcotics play in Groove is to show that, yes, Harrison understands that drugs are used at raves. No overt stances is ever solidified about drugs. Technically, the film is deeply flawed as well. The "actors" sound as if they are monotonously reading lines. In many of the scenes, it is obvious that this supposed "rave" consists of about twenty extras in a warehouse. Despite this fact, I will give Harrison credit for shooting a film that LOOKS mid-priced. But why would you purchase a pretty car whose insides are damaged beyond repair?
After spending $8 to see Groove - and bringing two friends, causing me to turn a deep shade of red out of embarrassment for my choice - I was in a rage. I immediately ran home to gather more information about the film. Why do people enjoy this? Why was it a hit at Sundance? It seems that people like Groove solely because it is about something they are a part of: rave culture. I want to remind viewers that just because a cereal box champions your favourite sports player doesn't mean the contents are delicious. I read a review that stated, 'yes, the film is flawed, but we have so few movies about raves that it will do. Three stars!' This is a very unprofessional attitude. A truly discerning critic would rather eat no eggs at all than rotten ones.
Recently, I argued with a friend that almost every film has its redeeming qualities. A good example, I told him, is Mac & Me, a mid-80s E.T. ripoff about a wheelchair-bound boy and a rubber alien puppet. It is so cluelessly flawed it's great! The kid can't act (only hired because of his disability?), the "FX" are cheaply done, and (for Christ's sake) SEARS is featured prominently. You have to love that. However, if one film has no redeeming qualities; if one film's only effect is of wasting time; if one film exists only to steal your soul, your creativity, and any drive or ambition you have ever had for life, it is Brad Harrison's Groove.
(I have NEVER given this score to ANYthing in life:) 1/10
Ghost World (2001)
Ghosts May Be Transparent, But Ghost World is Impenetrable
There's a scene in Ghost World where a be-mulleted, white trash loser accosts the owner of a convenient store with nunchukas, while blasting retro heavy metal from a peeling boombox atop a jalopy. While the characters (and the audience) laugh wildly at this out-of-date goon, Enid (Thora Birch, only lightly reprising her American Beauty role) hurriedly inhales the situation through wide eyes. "That guy rocks!" she exclaims, without a trace of irony.
The press for Ghost World would lead one to believe that it is a film about a Lolita-like romance - it isn't. Critics seem to see the characters as anti-conformists - they aren't. The trailer makes it appear as another cynical indie about brilliant losers tortured by a watered down society - I can't agree. What exactly, then, is Ghost World? Quite simply, Terry Zwigoff's debut fiction film is a very careful and thoughtful story about quite possibly the most grown-up, sincere, thrift store junkie/outcast ever.
The story sounds familiar to indie film geeks: Enid and Rebecca, two best friends just out of high school, purposely avoid college. They dress in vintage clothing and have smarmy comments for everything and everyone. After playing a cruel trick on Seymour (Steve Buscemi), a lonely, aging record geek, Enid befriends him. And this is where the story cliches cease. There are no sexual awakenings or mysterious strangers who turn things upside down. We are simply invited into the exuberant Enid's fascinating world through her eyes. She never once plays the victim, which in a world full of "Double Jeopardy"s and "Blow"s, is quite amazing. It is also quite sad, in the sense that Summer Catch, the latest in a series of Freddie Prinze Jr. flops, opened last week on nearly 2500 screens, whereas Ghost World lingered in the (ahem) indie graveyard at a mere 30.
I have heard Todd Solondz's name mentioned in the same sentences as Zwigoff's, which I think is quite unfair. While Solondz's Happiness is an excellent film, I would say that Ghost World has more of a perceptive, comic edge to it to and, simply put, is more thoughtful. It has more in common with, say, Kevin Smith's Chasing Amy; even, to a slight degree, Swingers. Like these films, Ghost World, and especially Enid herself, *celebrates* the realities of life.
This Summer I have sat through approximately ten films that were so insipid I am considering suing the major studios in repayment for lost brain cells (Tomb Raider, I'm looking at you). However, after seeing Ghost World, I am convinced that the suffering was worth it.
9/10
C.H.U.D. (1984)
Bad 80's Film is Too Bad to Be True
I am not only a child of the miraculous 80s, but one who had HBO and slumber parties and friends whose parents didn't care what we were watching. Affinities reside in my heart for so many bad 80s horror fare: films which take themselves so seriously that they are funny. Films that were so obviously produced within cliche as to almost gaurentee a particular audience that it makes you smile. So when I tell you that C.H.U.D. is a detestable film, understand that this comes not from a nose in the air, but from eyes devoid of fake gore, explosions, and creatures causing fake gore and explosions. C.H.U.D. is simply not worth your time. Yes, YOU! NONE of you! Forty minutes through the film, we have only seen the hand of a monster! Not until the last few scenes does one actually witness the spectacle of three C.H.U.D.s on screen at once, and even then, one is unimpressed. Sure, the premise sounds great - creatures living under the city, eating people; how could that go wrong?! However, what C.H.U.D. amounts to is an hour-and-a-half of a handful of detestable characters afraid of something niether they, nor we, are allowed to see. If what you're looking for is a bunch of people TALKING about being afraid of something, rent The Blair Witch Project. If you're looking for cheesy 80s fare, seek out the Creepshows or Jason Takes Manhattan, or Night of the Demons. Hell, rent Steel Magnolias. Just avoid C.H.U.D. at all costs as it is a steaming pile of rubbish. Watching this film is like being forced to listen to an epic story from a man who has just ingested horse manure and is standing no less than a foot from your nostrils. Avoid at all costs!
Masters of the Universe (1987)
Piece of well put together, entertaining, eighties cheese
At Sundance this year, one of the big successes was the rave/"character study" Groove. "Sure, It's a chunk of compost with poor acting and vapid dialogue," many critics agreed, "But we've never seen a movie about a RAVE! Thumbs UP!" I've read people dogging Masters of the Universe and, with boring crap like Groove getting praise for being original (Human Traffic? Hell-OO?!), I just don't understand how people can be so hard on this eighties masterpiece. Yes, MASTERPIECE! Sure, Masters of the Universe is a travesty of a film; a relentless Star Wars ripoff right down to the extraneous, unnecessary troops in Darth Vader helmets (although continuously foiling Skeletor's evil plan of domination, he continues to contract larger and larger groups of soldiers to do his dirty work, as if the amount of moronic troops is directly proportionate to the quality of destruction). But that's what makes it so great! For a film to be so bad it's unwatchable, to me, it has to be as shallow and boring as, say Groove. The characters in Masters of the Universe have goals to attain and motivation to carry through with. (Well, all except He-Man who could only be helping the rag-tag group of white trash Eternians for his own, altruistic purposes.) Aside from the speeder bike-esque hoverboard chase scene (which I think Highlander 2 actually ripped off! Someone else ripped off Masters of the Universe!!!) in which we see cardboard cutouts of the characters woodenly defy gravity to absurd levels, the film is actually put together rather well. The laser beams look cheesy, but the scenes are edited well, with continuity between the lasers and explosions. There's an impressive scene of Skeletor being escorted through a hole in . . . the universe? The fabric of spacetime? Even the heavy metal-playing cylinder that the two teens find is constructed rather well; very detailed. If you still can't get around the production value of Masters of the Universe, I believe it still may hold great entertainment value. I kept giggling whenever I saw Man at Arms, played by dinosaur Jon Cypher. Mental pictures of a steadily decomposing "Cypher" (like that's his real name) bouncing his grandchildren on his knee and telling wonderfully embellished stories about his time on the set, where many of his dialogue ideas were accepted by the director kept crawling through my head. Plus, he's got a bad wig and the worst moustache since Rollie Fingers'. I enjoyed staring at the moustache and imaging what it would smell like if I were to put my nose directly in it. Consensus: canned cheese. Plus, Dolph Lundgren is hilariously near-nude, Chelsea Field, as Teela, has some serious rage issues, and there are phalic symbols in every other shot. I would also like to point out that this is not a childhood revival review. I saw Masters of the Universe in theatres in 1987 and I hated it. My views and comments come from a recent screening a week ago. So blow $8 and take your chance on seeing something truly bad, like Groove. And spend the rest of the week complaining about how you actually helped such a piece of crap prosper financially. Or drop a dollar at your local Blockbuster, invite some friends over, and get some huge laughs off of a movie that may not be very good, but does what it's supposed to do: Entertain.
Nightwatch (1997)
Who Did It? Who Cares?!
The problem with so many "mysteries" of today is that the genre has been used up. In order to keep things fresh, mysteries (or as they're now FRESHLY called, thrillers) pick implausible murderers and/or set up ridiculous scenarios to throw you off track. Scream 2, while not technically a "mystery," is a prime example. Nightwatch follows in a similar, ridiculous vein. Is the point to entertain or to screw you over?
It's worth mentioning that Nightwatch has the longest shelf-life of any film at Dimension (and possibly ANY studio!) to my knowledge (although the Winona Ryder vehicle Lost Souls is sneaking up quickly). More than a year after seeing a trailer, the film was finally released to a handful of theatres and dumped quickly onto video.
The setup is good: law student Martin Bells (McGregor) gets a job as a night watchman at a hospital/morgue. Surrounded by dead bodies and an immoral, creepy friend (Brolin), Bells gets increasingly paranoid as he does his nightly rounds. Eventually local serial killings play their way into his life and he finds that he may be hunted.
It's not SO bad; director Ole Bornedal creates alot of good atmosphere and uses some great lighting and sets. And Nick Nolte is at first unrecognizable as Inspector Cray, physically and vocally. He seems to be the only actor mixing it up and having a bit of fun.
But the bad outweighs the good. Ewen McGregor annoyingly tries out an American accent (and slips more times than kids at a pool). Patricia Arquette's overbearing shortness and Josh Brolin's huge cranium are not hidden well (things that aren't apparent from decent camera work in True Romance and The Goonies, respectively). More than anything, the script is atrocious. Terrible dialogue (I actually turned red a few times) and silly plot points (I actually turned red a few times) leading nowhere bog the film down. I started reading a week-old newspaper during a dinner sequence! I've never seen the 1994 Danish version, but it appears that Bornedal's original script (which is highly praised) was glossed over in Hollywood by...Steve Soderbergh?! I'm surprised that such an accomplished director didn't have his name removed. I can only hope that the original version gives good reason for the killer picking on Bells.
Poorly acted, poorly concocted, and not directed well enough to contain attention, Nightwatch falls flat on its face. I would only recommend this film to people, such as myself, who recall seeing the same trailer for over a year in theatres and missed the actual release. Please forgive all involved if you are fans. If you are unfamiliar with any of the cast or crew, please give them a second chance! If you simply think that this looks like a good thriller, rent something else. Or watch three episodes of The Simpsons. Or read a bloody book. Or scratch your inner-thigh with a cheese grater for an hour and a half; anything to stay away from the mind-boggling boredom created by Nightwatch.