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Reviews
Scandal (2012)
An Affront to Drama in Every Conceivable Way
There's a lot of trash on TV, but there are few shows that are this trashy that take themselves this seriously. Masquerading as sharp political espionage, and convinced of its own self-importance, 'Scandal' is a soapy hyperbole with empty and overly obvious observations that fall well short of its contemporaries. Kerry Washington and company crank up the performances to eleven, and the ceaselessly moving camera follows suit. When the show does take a break from the melodrama, and injects something resembling a plot, the wires quickly get crossed and the narrative strangles itself.
'Scandal' is marketed as a show for women, by women - Olivia Pope is the atypical 21st century female role model, but only in the most tokenistic of ways: i.e., the cut throat bitch who's struggling desperately to subvert her emotions. Consequently, there's a lot of screaming and teary eyes in this show, emphasized by a plodding, monotonous score, and undercut by stifling political correctness. In one sequence, Pope convinces one of her disgraced colleagues to role up his sleeves and stay on the team: "The Cyrus Beene I know doesn't hide in his half empty closet and wet his pants like a little bitch baby!" What follows is a painfully exaggerated and mostly yelled scene, which of course works out successfully for Olivia.
This marks the first time I've ever heard the term "bitch baby," and it is one of the shallowest attempts at political correctness I have ever seen. In a show that emphasizes the liberation of women, the term "bitch" would be too oppressive - so would "sissy," "nancy," "little girl," and numerous other terms that would be used in this type of exchange. On the other hand, "wuss" or "baby" would be too juvenile for adults in the White House to use. Thus, we arrive at "bitch baby," a compromise made by writers in a P.C. stranglehold. The show is comprised of similar exchanges and speechifying intervals, and to such an extreme that the characters may as well be addressing the audience directly.
Plots follow increasingly senseless logic, and become more and more convoluted. Everyone is backstabbing everyone, and it seems to be motivated by no reason other than to drive the plot (usually with a twist) forward. There are much smarter shows on TV right now, including "House of Cards," "The News Room," and other, more relevant shows with a strong female cast like "Orange is the New Black." These are shows with nuanced characters, and that are able to incorporate satire and commentary into a well-constructed narrative rather than awkward, soapboxing asides. Save yourself the time, and skip this garbage.
I Did It for Love (2013)
Comedy with Precision
"I Did It for Love" is in many ways the comedy version of "Dog Day Afternoon." It centres on hapless, amateur criminals who, given a different set of circumstances, might at once be your drinking buddies and their father-in-law's worst nightmare. Several stars align at just the right moment, and both hilarity and the unexpected ensue. Surrounding the would-be-robbers are a host of supporting characters, each of them serving an unexpected purpose; one that is no doubt calculated, but seemingly spontaneous. Plot, characters, music, and editing are all utilized to their full advantage, and create a tight comedy experience rare in a lot of student films.
The short is directed by Quinn Spicker, a Vancouver-based filmmaker with a number of successful films under his belt, including an adaptation of a Stephen King short story, "Harvey's Dream." From the get-go, this is a laugh riot of a comedy, incorporating elements of non-linear structure, mystery, romance, and a cosmic sense of situational irony. It's handled with precision and care, and a consistent tone throughout. The cast is all sensational, and embody their characters pitch perfectly. If you get a chance to see it, I highly recommend that you do: you'll have a great time.
Being There (1979)
Brilliant, Touching, Maddening, Saddening: Extraordinary.
"Being There" is the story of a simple-minded man named Chance. He has had no exposure to the world his entire life, save for the four walls of his master's estate, the garden he tends to, and the things he sees on TV. When his master, "the old man," passes away, Chance is let loose upon the world where his gentle, slow, and simple demeanour are mistaken for the thoughtful musings of an eccentric genius. With a sharp script that never preaches, this is satire at its best, and the performances are thoroughly moving as the film's reputation leads one to believe. What might surprise you, as it did me, is the film's poetic, and beautiful cinematography. However, I find this a difficult film to judge, as given its confounding status as a comedy, I found myself sooner driven to tears and anxiety than to joy and laughter. I don't mind that the film explores the full spectrum of emotions, I just wish that the experience hadn't been so one-sided.
The premise of the film - a simple man accomplishing extraordinary things - will be familiar to those who have seen the higher profile film, "Forrest Gump," a film whose similarities and dissimilarities to "Being There" I will explore later. The protagonist, Chance (Sellers), no doubt lives up to his name, as he is a victim of circumstance and coincidence. The only clothes he owns are antiques that happen to be back in fashion, and the body he occupies of a middle-aged man provides him with the unintentional guise of a distinguished, well-educated, and wealthy economic savant. He happens upon a rich woman and her husband, who also happens to be a well-regarded presidential adviser. When he introduces himself for the first time through a bout of coughing, the couple mistakes his name for Chauncey Gardner, and he accomplishes more in a matter of days under that alias than anyone could have dreamt for Chance the gardener. His influence becomes contagious, and even has a stake in the political arena. The script is satirical, ironic, cautionary, critical, and sharp. Rarely does it falter.
Sellers, as Chance, is the soul of the film. It's a brilliant performance, and one of the best ever captured. He is joined by a plethora of great supporting actors, including Shirley MacLaine and Melvyn Douglas, who are all aided by Hal Ashby's poetic direction, and the startlingly haunting cinematography of Caleb Deschanel. Ashby's world is one of pastiche, ass-kissing, and shallow surfaces. Unfortunately, each supporting character is made to be one of these types in some form or another, save for one character whom I will not reveal. Douglas and MacLaine exude boatloads of emotion, but as they are equally fooled by Chance's unwitting con as anyone else in the film, there's a certain shallowness that leaves them disappointingly empty. Given the context of the film (especially the last shot), this may be deliberate, but it is never the less dissatisfying, and also leads me to the film's one major flaw.
Unlike the aforementioned "Forrest Gump," no one in the film is aware of the fact that Chance is far from a genius; in fact, that in itself is a rather generous euphemism. Chance doesn't know that he's different, and neither does anyone else around him. It's the risk that at any moment the charade might implode that makes this film such an anxious and painstaking experience. "How will they react," you ask yourself, "when they find out they've all been fooled?" We learn early on that Chance is completely dependent on those around him; his very survival depends on the kindness of others, and how charitable could they possibly be when they realize the truth? It's this anxiety, and the spectator's omniscient perspective (we're in on the joke) that often dulls the humour. As such, watching Chance is like watching a lost puppy navigate traffic: he is a creature obliviously in control of everyone's life but his own. This is not to say, however, that "Gump" is the superior film. On the contrary, "Being There" trumps that film on every artistic level, but "Gump" benefited from coming second so that the master could not learn from his student.
In the end, "Being There" is an extraordinary feat on the levels of artistry, performance, writing, and satire. Though its comedic ambitions fall a little short, it is a film that you absolutely must see. To paraphrase the film's protagonist, you'll like to watch.
King Kong (2005)
Incredibly Underwhelming
It's fair to say that I had high hopes going into this film; perhaps they were higher than they should have been given the subject matter, and the history of bad King Kong remakes. But I figured if anyone could pull it off, it would be Peter Jackson, whose love for the big gorilla inspired him to make movies in the first place. Having seen the original film, which I regard more as an iconic landmark in special effects as opposed to storytelling, acting, or artistic achievement, I thought there was a lot of potential in the high budgeted Jackson remake. What was delivered, however, was an altogether underwhelming experience that sacrifices authentic emotional investment for congested, and meandering action sequences.
There's not much departure from the original, except a slight reworking of character, an extended back story for the humans, and of course, bigger and more plentiful action sequences. The story can be separated into three parts: the New York City prologue, Skull Island, and the Empire State Building climax. The first part of the film is tediously slow, and without much payoff. The fact that the main attraction, Kong himself, does not make an appearance in the film until about an hour in has drawn many comparisons to Steven Spielberg's "Jaws." This is a wrongful comparison, however, as the shark in Jaws might take an hour to actually appear on screen, but his actions are seen literally within the first five minutes of the film. Kong simply takes forever to show up, and the humans have little to do in the interim.
Jack Black plays Carl Denham, a somewhat sleazy, glory seeking filmmaker trying to save his dwindling career with a screenplay by Jack Driscoll (Adrien Brody), and a starving actress named Anne Darrow (Naomi Watts). Carl manages to persuade a shady crew of sailors, who are armed to the teeth, into venturing to the mysterious Skull Island, where Carl hopes to capture the most spectacular wonders of the world on his camera. As soon as they land, however, things go immediately awry, with a crew member being killed, and Anne being captured by the island's native, and very superstitious inhabitants. Here the story finally picks up, but the action is split between Driscoll's rescue party, and the interplay between Anne and Kong (who has taken kindly to the defiant blond). The problem, though, is that while the focus should be on Kong and Anne, there are far too many subplots within the rescue team, and one would be bereft to find anything slightly interesting about any of them. Having said that, when the paths cross between the rescue party and the giant ape, it becomes considerably difficult to sympathize with either party as both are excessively violent towards one another. Of note, as well, are the rather disturbing portrayals of violence in this film; though not excessively gory, the instances of death are quite gruesome, and more appropriate for a different film.
Jack Black has gotten considerable flack for his portrayal of Denham, and the common consensus is that he was miscast. However, I would extend this conception to every member of the cast, save for Watts as Anne, and Andy Serkis as Kong. Were the part of Denham to be slightly rewritten, and were the actor given better lines to speak (a weakness of Jackson and his writers), I actually think it could have worked. However, where I feel it could never work is with Adrien Brody as a swashbuckling, handsome hero (a young Harrison Ford, he is not).
By the film's end, I was expecting to shed a tear for the eventual outcome that everyone knows is coming, but instead I found myself incredibly bored by the long slog, and dragged out final sequence. What the audience gets from Jackson's King Kong is pretty much what they got for the original RKO picture: a special effects driven fantasy with shallow characters, and screenplay clichés. However, add to that considerable boredom, and the fact that this will not go down as a landmark in special effects achievement (nowhere near the level of Avatar), I consider this a minor picture, and a minor achievement. Jackson tried to repeat the wonderment of the original, and add to it authentic characters and emotions, but his failure at the latter most goal is what makes this experience interminable, and underwhelming.
Futurama (1999)
Hit and Miss, But with more Unique Story lines than any other Show
I don't think Futurama will ever go down in history as a landmark series, but the same thing can be said of other strong TV shows like the somewhat similar 3rd Rock from the Sun. Both shows feature premises that are outlandish, and sometimes alienating, but their content is nonetheless funny and entertaining. At its worst, the show is somewhat amusing, and at its best, it is nothing short of brilliant. It takes an open mind and a suspension of belief in order to like this show, but all throughout the series, the characters are fully realized, their actions are consistent, and the Universe is never dull.
What this show has working against it is that from the very first episode, audiences are bereft not to draw comparisons to The SImpsons; after all, the show features similar character designs (Bender=Robot Homer), the same creator, and in ways the same sense of humour. What this show has working for it, however, as is the same case as 3rd Rock from the Sun, is that it has infinite story possibilities. Were a show like Seinfeld, or The Simpsons (with the exception of Halloween specials) to include episodes involving time travel, alien invaders, or dimensional jumping, one would classify that episode as having certifiably "jumped the shark." However, the nature of the show is such that practically anything goes. What this allows for are remarkably complex, thought-provoking, and occasionally heartrending episodes with laughs to boot. One could call it a deliberately funny, and animated version of Star Trek.
Overall, this show comes up on the positive side of things. Of particular note are the episodes involving Bender's stint as the God of a micro-colony growing on his backside, a parody of Willy Wonka, and all the episodes featuring giant brains or insane inventions by professor Farnsworth.
Public Enemies (2009)
Surprisingly Disappointing
I'm an admirer of Michael Mann films, and when I heard about this project, I got quite excited by the prospect of the famously meticulous director working with the equally obsessive, and detail-oriented Christian Bale. Oh, and I suppose the idea of Johnny Depp as Dillinger in a high budget period piece didn't hurt either. Unfortunately, one can't watch a Michael Mann film without drawing comparisons to his best work, and on that note, it doesn't live up to the man's incredible standards.
Let's put it this way: it lacks the suspense and existential banter of Collateral, the character play and development of Heat, the action of Last of the Mohicans, and the simple brilliance of The Insider. It does, however, borrow many of the negative factors in previous Mann films: the too-conventional love story from Last of the Mohicans that feels rushed and poorly strung together, the pacing of The Insider, and the sometimes too-obsessive attention to historical detail as in the case of Ali. That brings me to my next point, which is that Mann obsesses over some very small details, making sure that they are authentic to the way history has written them, while taking huge creative liberties with others. What makes this frustrating is that it's hard to see the pay-off when he chooses to be creative, and when he chooses to get bogged down in details.
From a technical standpoint, I'm not opposed to the use of digital photography, which has proved itself as a dependable medium (Benjamin Button, Collateral, Sin City etc.); however, the choice of colour pallet and minimalist lighting makes this film incredibly ugly to watch, and is one of the few overtly digital quality films I've seen where you know for every frame that this wasn't film. I imagine that Mann did this in order to differentiate himself from other period films, like The Untouchables (DePalma), which depicts prohibition era Chicago in an all-too-self-aware grandeur. Having said that, it's still no excuse for some of the really poor setups where you can see the actors' make-up, which is distracting, and takes you out of the experience. And perhaps it was the theatre I was in, but I've heard many similar complaints about a bad sound mix. Due in part to this latter fact, I felt the movie lacked a sense of rhythm, and never quite found its stride.
In the end, this film is not as thought-provoking as Mann's previous works, and it really lacks the two-way head-to-head that Heat did so well. In that film, one got a sense of the cat- and-mouse struggle despite the two opposing leads sharing very little screen time. In this film, you know that Purvis (Bale) is chasing Dillinger, but you only know this because you're told; otherwise, it's really like two separate films, both of which lack any sense of urgency between either party to take the other out. It also lacks a great deal of excitement, even in what should be its most riveting moments. I still say see it, but go in without expectations, otherwise they'll be dashed.
Léolo (1992)
Laboriously Strange and Unique: You Might Hate it at first, but it Grows on You
One thing I'll say about Leolo is that you definitely won't forget it. Thankfully, though, and quite necessarily, I'm not limited to that single sentence. Love it or hate it, this is an experience that will stick with you, and which over time will most likely come up on the positive side of your filmgoing experiences. The film's protagonist, Leolo Lauzon, is a young French Canadian boy who claims to be a son of Italy, a notion he accredits to a miraculous encounter between his mother and a tomato grown in Italy. He is the youngest in his family, and at that stage in his life, he is also the most sane. In his spare time, he escapes the daily dysfunction of growing up by writing eloquently on scraps of paper, which he then discards, and which are then read by a local homeless man: the texts serve as the film's narration. Though essentially a story about growing up, this is a film that can be read from many angles, and whose thematic depths span everywhere between the themes of family, fear, hate, lust, and love. Yet, in spite of its broadness, the film manages to be simultaneously and paradoxically intimate, epic, far-fetched, and spot-on.
I watched this movie under the pretext that it was either THE best, or at least ONE of the best Canadian films ever made, and so my expectations were quite high. The other film that holds claim to this distinction is called "Mon Oncle Antoine," directed by Claude Jutra, and which I highly recommend. That film is the type you can watch and reflect on with an immediate love that will never wane over the passage of time. Leolo, on the other hand, is like a scape on the knee: at first it's painful and unpleasant, but soon it builds and forms into a scab that you find satisfying to pick. Excuse the obscurity of that analogy, but if you watch the film I think you'll find that it applies quite nicely.
Some might find Leolo alienating, others revolting, and some just plane weird. Personally, I recommend that you turn off your internal "parental discretion" metre, and just watch this film for what it is, which at times is the most visceral, human, and beautifully shot films you are likely to witness. In terms of cinematic indulgence, it might have a few equals, but there are none that do it better. Initially, I rated this movie a 4/10, feeling as though it was terribly overrated, but you know what? It grew on me. I find that on a fairly regular basis, this movie and particular scenes enter my mind, and they do so for all the right reasons. I find this odd, as many of the movies I claim to love do not do this very same thing, which I think says a lot about the substance and strength of this film. It tells me that the moments that might be considered exploitive or overly-explicit, and maybe even illegal, are there for more than mere shock. In closing, I simply have to implore you to watch this film, and though you may rue the experience the first time, take my word for it that you won't regret it, though that might take a few weeks.
RocknRolla (2008)
Like Tim Burton's "Planet of the Apes," There Won't be a Sequel to Explain This Crap.
It's been a long time since I've seen a film with no redeeming qualities, but "RocknRolla" is one of them. I would warn about spoilers, except I honestly don't know that there's anything I can spoil. Here we have a film that tries to be both "Pulp Fiction" and "The Departed," but a writer/director who is too far up himself to hear the absurdity of the dialogue, or to fix the over-complexities to a simplistic plot with an underwhelming climax. It's an ensemble piece, but the actors fail to mesmerize, and the characters fall short of memorable. Rather than aiding the narrative, the brief moments of non-linear storytelling tend to drag it rather than aid it. Now, I'm a moviegoer who is willing to forgive a weak script provided there are moments of intense action. I'm also a moviegoer who can thoroughly enjoy a well-acted, thought provoking film without a single special effect or action sequence to speak of. However, "RocknRolla" contains mediocre acting, mediocre action, horrendous dialogue, a terribly pompous script, and uninspired direction.
The way this film is structured, I wouldn't be surprised if Guy Ritchie fancies himself as the English Tarantino or Paul Thomas Anderson; after all, the massive amount of characters and subplots are both reminiscent of the aforementioned writer/directors. Having said that, at the end of the day, all of these things need to come together in the final act. While in a way they do in "RocknRolla," there are several plot elements that are far from being necessary, which leaves the viewer asking themselves "what the hell?"
All throughout the dialogue is painful, and the actors fail to strengthen it for the most part. Even though I giggled at some moments, those moments were hardly worth the time and effort spent watching the movie. I spent much more time rolling my eyes and trying to wrap my mind around the excruciatingly overcomplicated and scatterbrain plot.
Coming in at just under two hours, "RocknRolla" felt much more like three and a half. By the time I hit the halfway mark, I didn't care if I ever found out where the plot went, I just wanted it to end, and for all the characters to die together in an apocalyptic meltdown of some sort. What made everything worse is during the end credits, when the promise of a sequel is made. If the studios have any common sense, they will scrap anything with "RocknRolla" in the title from here on out. And as for you, I sincerely hope that you take my advice and avoid this movie.