Total K-O

Wahlberg in Bale play stepbrothers Ward and Eklund

                It was March 15^th, 2008 and I was stuck somewhere in a roiling mosh pit of drunken, sweaty Dropkick Murphys fans. Fearing for my life, I valiantly managed to untangle myself from the mass of tattooed arms and Converse sneakers, emerging safely to a quiet spot on the floor just in time to see Micky Ward throw a killer left hook. The band, being Quincy locals, created a poetic shout out to their friend and supporter by showing footage of his fights all throughout the concert, set, of course, to their anthem "The Warrior's Code". It was at that moment that I became aware of The Fighter.

                  I’ve seen Rocky, and Cinderella Man, and Million Dollar Baby. I’ve watched footage of real fights, and I'm familiar with the Golden Gloves. The Fighter isn’t unique because of its plot. It is a classic tale of desperation, misfortune, and a scrappy underdog from the wrong side of the tracks. The movie, much like Micky Ward, is separated from its competitors because of its heart. It took the skeleton of a tried and true (literally) story and created a work of art, complete with skillful acting, interesting cinematography, and spot-on accents.

                   First, the accents. I’m very critical of Boston accents in movies. After Vera Farmiga’s grating and forced attempt in The Departed, I was not expecting much from anyone other than Mark Wahlberg. Amy Adams stepped out of her neat box to play a tough but loving girlfriend, dropping her r’s like she’d been living in Lowell her entire life. Marky Mark, of course, poured on the Dorchester dialect, but the real hero was Christian Bale. He was so comfortable with his speech patterns that I stopped worrying whether or not he was going to slip up after about thirty seconds. Supporting roles like crack addicts, nasally Ward sisters, and even local legend Sgt. Mickey O'Keefe (played by himself) were performed by native actors.

                  Amy Adams gave a career-changing performance, and Mark Wahlberg was consistent and dedicated to his role, but the real accolades belong to Christian Bale. Tough accent aside, Bale went through a regimen of training for this film, including losing weight to play the drug-addled Dicky Eklund. Reportedly staying in character even while not on set, Bale transformed himself into the charismatic yet manipulative and illogical Eklund. With his haunting and bitter performance, Bale elevated this film from sports biopic to gritty and uncomfortable ode to the city of Lowell and its inhabitants.

                  There was something very real about the filming of this movie. No one looked airbrushed, the scenery was sharp and crystalline, and Wahlberg even denied a stunt double for the boxing scenes, drenching the film in a sense of actuality, of plausibility and authenticity that often comes from directors who are willing to let their art speak for itself. The Fighter is more than just another sports movie. Every member of the cast and crew clearly transferred all of themselves into the project; the emotion behind every time they came up short, each instance in which they almost made it, and all the chances that they never took oozes out of every line, every shot, and every detail. If Micky Ward is the Pride of Lowell, then The Fighter is undeniably the Pride of 2010 Cinema. 

"I heard you're a stepping stone."

Watch the trailer here: http://www.imdb.com/video/imdb/vi2330986777/

Are You A Catfish?

This weekend, I was finally able to find a screening of the highly-anticipated “reality thriller” Catfish. Having made the mistake of watching the trailer a week before its premiere, I was so curious as to what the mysterious twist, which according to critics would change my life, would be that I was willing to travel 45 minutes to find out. After 94 minutes filled with hand-held camera work, banter, and close-ups of Facebook profiles, I can promise you that my life is not changed. However, once separated from its previews, Catfish is an interesting film that stands on its own.

The film focuses on a professional photographer named Nev who begins a friendship with a young girl in Michigan after she sends him a painting of one of his photos. As their correspondence grows, Nev also creates relationships with other members of the family, taking a special interest in 19-year old Megan. When some of the family’s stories don’t line up, Nev and two filmmakers (brother Rel and friend Henry) decide to pay Megan a visit. As far as the rest of the plot goes, I really shouldn’t spoil it, I wouldn’t want to contradict the film’s tagline, “Don’t let anyone tell you what it is.”

The appeal of Catfish did not lie in fancy technology, particularly strong acting, or an air-tight plot line. The budget was extremely low, there were no effects and a very minimal score, and no one involved in this project will be winning any awards for cinematography. Yes it was cheesy, and maybe it was staged. The fact of the matter is that I do not care if this movie was real or fake. In spite of its shortcomings, however, I have not been able to criticize Catfish all that harshly.  The film had a certain je ne sais quoi, this intangible quality that forced me to like it. Perhaps for the same reason that I would root for the Cubs over my beloved Red Sox, I really wanted to see Catfish succeed.

I spent the majority of the film waiting for a shocking twist, some strange inciting moment, that would splash the plot with a little bit of clarity. And when that moment came, I was a somewhat disappointed. No axe murderer? No need for an exorcism? No ventriloquist with a host of cannibalistic dummies? The twist seemed anticlimactic at first, a letdown after the shock and awe promised in the trailer. But the more I think about it, the more I realize the movie could not have ended any other way. It was a sincere look at loneliness, at the truth, and perhaps most importantly, at the Facebook generation--global connection is just a click away.

The verdict? Go and see Catfish. If the film (I would call it a documentary, but inquiries are being made into its authenticity) is not released in more than a handful of cinemas, at very least rent it when it goes to DVD. But do not expect a gruesome crime scene drama filled with unspeakable accounts of human cruelty. Just watch, take it for what it is, and keep guessing  at the significance of the title.

Oh, and don’t watch the trailer.

No quotes, no preview. Just a recommendation.

A Valentine to Growing Up

Is it cool to like this movie? Does it make me a hipster if I admit to enjoying Spike Jonze’s adaptation of Maurice Sednak’s treasured picture book? I think it’s a common misconception that, in order to like this movie, one must be a twenty-something in possession of a liberal arts degree and an iPod full of indie bands. At the end of the day, Where the Wild Things Are is a coming of age story whose bittersweet charm is hard to ignore. 

This movie was far from perfect. I do not think I would have had the attention span as a child to sit through the 101 minute runtime, and my favorite movie was Born Free. There were certainly parts that dragged, (the scene in which the monsters decide whether or not to eat Max was far longer than necessary) and the characters sometimes felt underdeveloped, rushing inexplicably from mood to mood, but for a full length film adapted from a forty-eight page children’s book, the plot was surprisingly filled-out and contained an abundance of insightful moments.  

There are two reasons why I didn’t write this movie off as a flash in the pan of contemporary independent cinema. First, the visuals and scene compositions were stunning. One scene that stands out vividly in my mind is when Max is alone in his room, building his fort. The audience is allowed into this quiet, private moment, and without much work from the child actor, the feeling of creative potential tempered by isolation is beautifully conveyed. The majority of the scenes on the island are also breathtaking; Max and the monsters running to the very edge of the cliff, and Carol showing Max his miniature city remain among my favorites from the film.

Secondly, I am an absolute sap for stories about growing up. Some people were quick to write Max off as a trouble maker, a little brat who craves attention and will do anything to get it. However, I disagree with this interpretation. Max was neglected, and he sought acceptance outside of his family circle. He was brave, cunning, and resilient, and used his skills to enrich the lives of his new monster friends (for the most part). The part was acted honestly by Max Records, who brought energy and a certain sweetness to a role that could have been irritating in the hands of another. While some of my good will towards the movie was usurped by the obnoxious Judith (voiced by Catherine O’Hara), James Gandolfini in the role of Carol and Records both were able to create a touching relationship that overshadowed my annoyance with some of the secondary characters. Max ultimately learns the value of humility, truth, and character, while recognizing that there truly is nothing like family. While perhaps Where the Wild Things Are will not be the instant classic that was Toy Story 3, I believe that viewers will find in it a candid account of learning to fly, and will surely delight in this visual confection.

I was a little bit late to jump on the Where the Wild Things Are train because the book was never a childhood favorite. Maybe that’s the reason I was able to enjoy the movie; I had no source material against which to measure it. Darker than I expected, this movie felt as familiar as last winter’s sweater, but left a coppery taste in my mouth reminiscent of summer’s final golden afternoon. A beautiful tribute to those of us with rampant imaginations, a sense of adventure, and a secret awe of all things wild. 

I have a sadness shield that keeps out all the sadness, and it's big enough for all of us. 

Click here to watch the trailer: http://www.imdb.com/video/imdb/vi3225158169/

Worth Staying Awake For

The first five minutes of Christopher Nolan’s Inception were, in my humble opinion, some of the most painful moments in cinematic history. It was at that point that I realized I was in for an exceptionally good movie. When I decided to stop trying to figure things out, realized that this film would probably require more than one viewing, I opened my mind (get it?) for a terrifically enjoyable movie experience.

Where to begin? To try and review this movie without going into deep detail about the plot is going to be difficult, but I am not in the business of ruining twists and endings, so I will do my best. Inception explores the exploits of a team of, for lack of a better word, thieves who are able to enter a subject’s subconscious when they are dreaming and extract, and in very rare cases implant, information. It sounds cool, until one factors in the easy blurring between subconscious and reality, leading to a series of dangerous and compromising situations.

I knew none of this upon entering the cinema. In hindsight, it probably would have helped me to shuffle through the first few scenes—if I had had any idea what the movie was about, I most likely wouldn’t have felt like my mind was melting. This being said, there are dozens of layers to the plot; IMDB boards are buzzing with speculations regarding the tense and utterly maddening last scene (not that I read IMDB boards).

I was impressed with the acting, for the most part. I think that Nolan did a good job of highlighting each of the characters in the ensemble cast. It was interesting to see Leonardo DiCaprio, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, and Ellen Page all sharing the same screen, but each carried their role in a mature and thorough manner. I was glad that DiCaprio was able to shake off the rigidity and stiltedness that I believe he brought to Shutter Island. I don’t buy that Inception was the highlight of his career, but it proved that he’s earned the chops that make him a household name.

While the plot and the acting were the two most integral components of this film, there is much to be said for both the writing and directing. Yes, there were a few standard “action movie” lines, but the dialogue, for the most part, flowed naturally and seemed realistic, if not a little bit repetitive. In a similar vein, Nolan’s directing was not clumsy, throwing me back to his earlier film, Memento. His integration of mind-blowing special effects (slow motion, zero-gravity fight scene, an entire city folding into itself, etc.) with touching and realistic moments was tasteful and refreshing in light of recent steps backward made by others in his field.

Inception was definitely worth seeing, and I believe it is the type of movie that will stand up upon further viewings. A good movie is one that stays with me, that my brain has to systematically work through, even in the final moments before I drift off to sleep. Inception did just that. Sweet dreams.  

"What's the most resilient parasite? An Idea. A single idea from the human mind can build cities. An idea can transform the world and rewrite all the rules. Which is why I have to steal it." 

Watch the trailer here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=66TuSJo4dZM

Spoiler Alert: It's Awful.

                During long car rides or nighttime walks on the beach, my friends and I usually find ourselves involved in a game of choice, where players are expected to pick the less awful of two horrendous options. For example, I may have to decide whether I would rather freeze to death or drown. After my recent viewing of M. Night Shyamalan’s The Last Airbender,  I am a strong believer in the fact that no option my friends provide could be worse than the potential of ever having to see that movie again. If I had one opportunity to go back in time, complete with the ability to erase one event from my life, I would prevent myself from shelling out $11.50 to view what is, bar none, the worst movie I have ever seen.

                

             I will preface this scathing, and at very least strongly-worded, review by saying that I think the show is great. I recognize that it’s silly and kind of pointless/predictable, but at least it is entertaining, which is certainly more than I can say about the movie adaptation. I was not expecting a “good” movie. I knew that the script would probably be awful, and that the acting most likely would not win any awards, but no amount of cynicism could prepare me for the utter catastrophe that played out before me.

                

                   When I watch a movie, even if I don’t like it I try to find something positive it has to offer. At first, I thought that the action scenes would be interesting and visually pleasing. They were neither. For a movie about people who can physically control the elements in any which way they please, there was not very much “bending” going on. For every half-hearted blast of fire or water, there was a several minute precursor which I can only describe as a ballet routine. Maybe it was martial arts, and maybe I’m a jerk for not being able to see the art in it, but the long exercise made the already-kind-of-boring element bending even less exciting.

                

                   Similarly, I was ready to give the acting a chance. I was hoping that at least Dev Patel would be good, but I quickly realized that his film career went from Slumdog Millionaire to The Last Airbender. I almost don’t blame him for not even trying to act. The other characters, funny and vibrant in the show, were monotone excuses for their cartoon counterparts and made the 103 minute runtime almost unbearable. The plot was also non-existent, skipping from storyline to storyline with utter disregard for any sense of lucidity or tempo. Every comic bit from the series was left out, and the characters, even if they hadn’t been played like robots, were written to be shells of their developed selves (at least, developed for a children’s show on Nickelodeon).

                 

                I was actually excited for this movie. In my heart of hearts I knew it was going to be terrible, but even the twisted depths of my imagination could not predict how terrible. It’s almost like Shyamalan was playing a joke on the world. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so sad, didn’t take itself so seriously or make me so angry. It is safe to say that I have never been so disappointed with a cinematic experience in my long movie-viewing career, and I hope that I can recover from the shocking failure before I give up watching movies all together. If The Last Airbender is representative of where the American film industry is headed, consider me an expat. Seriously? Save yourselves.

It would hurt me too much to post either a trailer or a quote on this blog...

Childhood, Revisited

                Toy Story was, without a doubt, one of the most beloved and unrivaled classics of my upbringing. In my family, it was somewhat of a rite of passage. No one would ever explain the jokes, and with each new discovery came a better understanding of what may just be one of the sweetest stories ever told. When I first saw the preview for Toy Story 3, I could feel my heart breaking. I was no great fan of the second installment (although I really should watch it again), and I was worried that this third chapter would soil the great name of the trilogy.

                                                             I could not have been more wrong.

                

               Toy Story 3 is Pixar's magnum opus. It is the epitome of a charming send off to a treasured and adored piece of so many children's lives. While I was one of the oldest viewers in the theater today, it didn't matter. This movie was able to bring me right back to the time when I (theoretically of course-- I was much more of a books girl) played with toys, myself. It is a bittersweet, hilarious, and ultimately heartwarming exploration of the consequences of growing up and the small ways in which our childhoods stay with us for life. 

              To me, this is the perfect summer movie. While there were no new or shocking innovations in animation, it was classic, familiar, and welcome Pixar (at it's finest). The comfortable animation was complimented by a fantastic and clever script, one which had me laughing hysterically, and making an utter fool of myself, from the very first scene. 

  

              And the story! I am not going to go into detail about the plot because I wanted to know as little as possible before I got to witness it for myself. However, I was more involved in this movie than I have been in any other for quite some time. I loved the attention to detail, and the homages to films like Cool Hand Luke, which is a personal favorite. And even though I had my doubts, Andy grew up to be a pretty sweet kid. Asking for a more perfect ending would be like asking John Irving to change the fate of Homer Wells. It was just that good. 

            Here's my dirty little secret: I cried, like a baby, throughout the entire movie. I don't know if it was because the idea of college scares me more than any horror film, or because the thought of my childhood favorites being neglected tugged a little too harshly on my heartstrings. But I will say that, for the first time in my entire movie-watching career, I didn't mind that the waterworks weren't dammed. I do not regret crying one single bit. It is movies like this that make me the happiest--simple, honest, heartfelt. Hats off to Pixar for reminding me that devotion and patience are the best qualities I could ask for, and that moving on doesn't have to be that scary.

"And this... well, this is where I live. It's got a disco, it's got a dune buggy, and a whole room just for trying on clothes!"

Click here to view the trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v_FfHA5whXc

Enfin!

The 400 Blows has been on my interminable list of movies for almost a year. In my mind, it was the epitome of Film, with a capital “f”. It was one of those movies that I could casually name-drop in a room full of my peers, and I would instantly be labeled as a movie elitist, a snob, someone who probably knows the name of costume designers and why, exactly, Clark Gable was so difficult to work with. But mention it in a room of film students, and they would scoff at my immature understanding of French Nouvelle Vague cinema. In the end, I watched this movie just to see what all the commotion was about. And to be honest, I am almost entirely devoid of opinion (imagine that!).

I’ll keep it brief because a long-winded review stating my near-apathy towards a cherished film wouldn’t bode well for my credibility, and probably wouldn’t be very interesting, either.

There were several aspects of this film that I really enjoyed. First, the lack of meaningless dialogue was something I greatly appreciated. I am a words girl through and through, but I think there is something to be said for the art of body language, too. Fifteen-year old actor Jean-Pierre Léaud beautifully embodied the heartbreak and anguish of Antoine, a boy who just can’t seem to succeed, and he did so with a stunning range of facial expressions and mournful stares that gave nonverbal depth to his troubled character.

I also enjoyed the camerawork. This movie does not look professional. It’s what could easily be categorized as “artsy”.  The camera played its role exceedingly well, allowing for the audience to focus on Antoine or the object of his desire, whatever that may be in the current scene. The movie almost seemed like a documentary, but not in a motion sickness-inducing, Blair Witch kind of way. The way that The 400 Blows was filmed lends an element of realism to a movie that has ascended to mythical status.

Unfortunately, I didn’t find the plot to be anything spectacular. While there were moments I did enjoy, like when Antoine’s friend snuck him into the room with the gigantic, taxidermy horse, or when our hero turns in a plagiarized essay which he really didn’t mean to copy (it reminded me of Old School by Tobias Wolff), the majority of the plot is rather mundane. Now, I don’t really know anything about Nouvelle Vague cinema, so maybe the celebrated director Truffaut was making some kind of statement on urban life in the late 50s, but I never really felt anything for Antoine. I had a difficult time following the story with a heightened level of interest because the boy, although clever, seemed like a shell of a fully-developed person.

The score also left me cold. Yes, I will admit to thinking it was cute, but it was also painfully repetitive and, in my opinion, inappropriate for the majority of the film. Usually, I am in favor of recurring themes in an overall score, but the same piece of music appeared, unchanged, on several occasions.

Even though The 400 Blows will probably never make it onto my list of favorites, one of the movies I watch over and over until I know it by heart, I found myself grinning ear to ear when the credits rolled (I won’t spoil the ending). Who am I to criticize what is lauded as one of the greatest films of all time? Maybe I missed the point, and I’ll probably have to watch it again a couple of years down the road. For now, I’m content to be able to offhandedly mention this film and willingly accept the title of film snob.   


 "Every time I cried, my father would imitate me on his fiddle, just to drive me nuts. One day I got fed up and I knocked him out."


Click here to watch the trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i89oN8v7RdY