The Reel Movie Blog

Under no circumstances would I have paid to see a low-brow comedy Ben Stiller film, except that I was on Kauai while Tropic Thunder was being filmed. Don’t get me wrong- I am a Ben Stiller fan, but his gross-out movies usually succeed in grossing me out. As such, I did not expect much from TT, but I was impressed with Robert Downey Jr. cast as a confused actor playing a hackneyed black man. His character borrows from the Method Acting theory, a perennial favorite technique honed by Marlon Brando and Robert De Niro.

In TT, an unlikely grouping of meta-actors recovering from washed-up fame and dud films are lured into the Viet Nam jungle by an ambitious director to reenact a war veteran’s harrowing story. The stars of this action film embark on a satirical journey of self-discovery and personal identity, motivated by their love of acting and the lime light, and then survival itself.

Of course there were laughs. You can’t put Ben Stiller, Jack Black, and the expected-unexpected cameos in one movie and not let your guard down a little. Although Robert Downey Jr. stole the show as far as I’m concerned (he is now my favorite actor), it seems that everyone went to great lengths to conquer new territory. While a pasty white, overweight Tom Cruise might have intended to steal this show, and he was amusing, he merely succeeded in creeping me out even further. His repeated dance routine was funny at first, but then it kept going and I was distracted by the thought of the bill for Suri’s future therapy sessions.

And it seems nearly every effort was made to offend. Use of the word “retard” notably has some up in arms. Offensive language dominates the script.  There is racial stereotyping, blood and gore, a white actor in blackface, airborne toddlers- all in the name of profiling the Hollywood big-budget film industry, of course.

In between pyrotechnics and shouted curse words, Stiller flexes his biceps as the actors discuss their craft and why taking risks in their career is not always the best route (cut-away to Tom Cruise) and why maintaining dignity is a means of maintaining an audience (insert Jack Black farting here). Matthew McConaughey, flown in last minute while Owen Wilson was treated for depression, plays a desperate agent to Stiller’s Tugg Speedman, demonstrating that career insecurity permeates Hollywood strata and nearly everyone in the industry is working for accolades and positive affirmation.

Columbia Pictures espionage thriller Edwin A. Salt, once expected to star Tom Cruise, will be rewritten by screenwriter Kurt Wimmer as a return vehicle for Angelina Jolie, reports Variety. Philip Noyce remains attached as director and Lorenzo di Bonaventura and Sunil Perkash are producing.

The movie is set to premier in 2010.

Jolie is close to a deal to play the title character, a CIA officer who’s accused by a defector of being a Russian sleeper spy and must elude capture long enough to establish her innocence. She took a liking to it, prompting the studio’s decision to rewrite it. The trade adds that the project won’t require that much of an overhaul to suit her.

Edwin A. Salt will undergo a title change, obviously, and if everything falls into place, the film shapes up as a return vehicle for Jolie, who recently gave birth to twins. Another candidate for her return is the Lionsgate drama Atlas Shrugged.

Link

Cut to the Chase: Perfectly balanced.

Watching a great movie that clicks in all of the right places assures me that there is harmony in the universe. It is like marveling at a perfectly symmetrical design like the Eiffel Tower or a spider web. Life is really random chaos with no point. It is a relief that our human intellect stubbornly seeks and finds safety, reason and occasional serendipity in the face of an abyss. Without a sound mind, sanity is lost. To perform well, the struggle between genius and madness is universal. The endeavor of Philippe Petit is one of the most memorable.

The documentary Man On Wire recounts a French tightrope walker’s obsession to tread while suspended between the void of the World Trade Center Towers 1,368 feet from the ground. That’s the height of 228 six-foot men. Having trained for most of his life to perform this feat, he masterminded a plot with an adventurous team of experts and thrill-seekers to infiltrate the towers’ rooftops to get the wire across them. The illegal operation was as dangerous and complex as a robbing a heavy-guarded infrastructure like in Jules Dassin’s Rififi (1954) or, if you haven’t seen that one, Steven Soderbergh’s 2001 remake of Ocean’s Eleven. My only complaint about the break-in was that they didn’t pack a video camera to film the spectacle from such an awesome perspective view.

The scenes of the controversial incursion are narrated by the present interviewees while documented footage and dramatically staged footage bring us intimately to experience it. The black-and-white footage (always timeless) is integrated so well that documentary and the fictional realization becomes seamless. The director James Marsh has made an exceptional thriller and a visual poem about great dreamers whose vision threaten to capsize them unless they rise to act upon their desires.

This is a superb follow-up to Marsh’s 2006 directorial debut titled The King, a chilling docudrama about an estranged son (Gael García Bernal) who goes to depraved lengths to integrate himself into the new family of his born-again father (William Hurt - “How does that feel?”). The King was between Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris’ Little Miss Sunshine and John Hillcoat’s The Proposition on my top ten list of 2006. This year, Marsh is neck-to-neck with magician-like Errol Morris who too has made another invaluable documentary called Standard Operating Procedure.

Philippe Petit is a charismatic and animated character in his own right. “I have this childlike rebellion against those who say that I can’t do something, which is something that I felt very early in my life. I have more wisdom now than I did at the time, but when most of the world tells you that you cannot do something, what an incentive to prove them wrong.” Before this daunting venture he had walked between Notre Dame where one shot looks like he is floating in the sky.

One of Petit’s memories and certainly the most loveliest involves Annie Allix, his then-girlfriend: They both walk a wire suspended a few feet from his backyard together; relying on one other to grace across suspended in the midair. The romantic in me was cheered immensely by the sight. Allix then mused, “We both look like we’re plotting our next mischief”.

Reflecting on Petit’s stunt above the World Trade Center, no mention in the film is made about the all-known tragedy that took place twenty-seven years after the fact. There is footage early in the film that depicts the building of the World Trade Center which looks hauntingly like Ground Zero today. What an irony considering the still-troubled political climate a few years ago in New York (re: Freedom Fries) that in the early 1970s; New Yorkers looked agape and in wonder at a Frenchman.

The other star of this film is the composer Michael Nyman (The Piano, 1993), one of most exceptional and prolific in the past few decades. He is so distinctive that Hollywood studios unwisely dilute his work or stay away from him all together. Thankfully his collaboration with such cinema rebels like Peter Greenaway, Jane Champion, and Michael Winterbottom have contributed richly to celluloid.

His score for Man On Wire is an accumulation of reworked film scores he has done. Nyman loyalists will recognize segments from “Chasing Sheep Is Best Left To Shepards” (The Draughtsman’s Contract, 1982), “Sheep and Tides” (Drowning By Numbers, 1988), “Time Lapse” (A Zed and Two Noughts, 1985), and “Stroking, Synchronizing” (Water Dances, 1985). The last time I heard Nyman tracks incorporated in a motion picture was two years ago. The film in question was Michael Winterbottom’s Tristram Shanty: A Cock and Bull Story (2006), which also made my top ten list that year.

What an inspiration to play Nyman’s “Memorial” from Peter Greenaway’s masterpiece The Cook, The Thief, His Wife, And Her Lover over Petite’s highest walk. How fitting that it was Nyman’s music that Petite actually practiced his wire act in his backyard to. I often listen to Nyman’s jazzy scores when I illustrate. Nyman’s Baroque-affected work is so locomotive and minacious that it stirs up the most mishandled of hearts. “(Nyman) has one foot in the 1600s and the other in contemporary times”. You can never go wrong overlaying a Nyman piece over your own movie (I should know!). Nyman has recently held an exhibition of his photography work and influences called Sublime with the assistance of the design firm Volumina.

On August 7, 1974, Petite realized his dream and conquered the Twin Towers. I connected with Petite’s romanticism and his need to dream boldly. I was cheered by the extreme measures and unapologetic grand gestures he made to realize the unthinkable. To walk across the clouds. Take a moment and ask yourself if you would actually like to perform a similar feat? Having gone up the Empire State Building to scream out loud from the top of the world over the exquisite yearning to truly live. It was a minor gesture in the same vein. I was in complete sympathy with Petit when he accepted an invitation by a slender brunette to make love to her after having achieved his death-defying stunt. What can I say? Petit and I are French.

Man On Wire is currently in limited release.

Poor, poor Dubya. With only half-a-year of his presidency left, Oliver Stone has him in the cross hairs and is ready to fire October 29th.

Two months since we have gotten the all-type Bushism poster, now here is the trailer that has official hit: “You’re a Bush! Act like one!”

Looks like we’re going to see Dubya as all too human here. Much like how Stone saw Nixon in his excellent 1995 feature as a tragic figure worthy of Hamlet.

Hamlet: A man may fish with the Bush that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that Bush.

Just don’t skimp on the flaws, Oliver!

Switching faces from tragedy to comedy, here is the new trailer for Mike Leigh’s upcoming Happy-Go-Lucky. This one is made for the North American audiences so be sure to take a shot of Insulin Glargine.

Now this trailer is just dying to make this bittersweet British comedy come across as a sweet-and-low Julia Roberts vehicle. A desperate attempt turning indie gold look like mainstream schmaltz. It has the banal Disneyesque-pop music cues, the kid-friendly editing wipes (swooshing sound effects are not optional), the garishly bubblegum-polished graphics, and the voice-over narration of Don LaFontaine in syrupy mode. Is Miramax really stooping this low for a Best Picture nom?

News Flash: a dozen years ago Mike Leigh’s Secrets and Lies (1996) got the coveted nomination, so have a little faith!

The international trailer that I wrote about 3 months ago is far superior and actually feels like it has the fingerprints of Mike Leigh on it. The sophisticated animated graphics with the cute and gritty edge - check! An editing aesthetic that does not condescend - check! The quirky yet somber soundtrack by Gary Yershon - check!

Question: Am I the only one waiting for the melancholy soundtracks of composer and Mike Leigh regular Andrew Dickson (High Hopes - 1988, Naked - 1993, All or Nothing - 2002, Vera Drake - 2004) to be released?

Happy-Go-Lucky will speak for itself (in limited release) on October 10th.

Adolescence is a trial no matter what gender one is. The confliction can be so crippling that it damages and ultimately defines one as an adult. There have been many films, some good, about experiencing teenage angst and the need to break free or remain grounded. Either way can produce regret later in life. This film XXY has treaded new ground by presenting a teenager whose entire identity, both internally and anatomically, is unusual to a majority of people. Funnily enough, uniqueness of this case makes the experience all the more universal. The teenager is named Alex and is fifteen years old. Alex has a choice this summer that boggles one’s mind toward fantasy. The choice is whether Alex should resume the rest of life as male or female.

Alex is a hermaphrodite. Alex looks like a teenage girl but possesses the make-up of a boy that he/she has deluded with pills of estrogen. Alex is cared for by her parents Kraken (brilliantly by Ricardo Darín) and Suli (Valeria Bertuccelli) who live, for their child’s sake, in a wooden turquoise cabin near the seaside in Uruguay after having moved from Argentina. Her father works as an oceanographer who possesses a protectiveness, even for the wounded sea turtles he studies. The key for observing this challenging and brave film is by possessing the empathy that Kraken has. He is quiet, smart, unobtrusive, and lashes out only when someone endangers his child. Rarely has a father been portrayed on film with such loveliness.

There is an astonishing sequence late at night where Kraken seeks out a frank older man who presents pictures of himself as a child — pictures of girl! Kraken listens calmly and curiously to the difficult experiences of this struggling hermaphrodite. He is so involved with understanding his “daughter” that he is simply removed from prejudice: “Making her afraid of her body is the worst thing you can do to a child”. This character was so easy for me to gravitate towards.

Inés Efron portrays Alex with much bravado and vulnerability. She instinctively performs her character’s struggle with tendencies ruled by her intersex. Alex’s struggle is made more difficult by the arrival of Ramiro (Germán Palacios), his wife Erica (Carolina Pelleritti), and their teenage son Álvaro (Martín Piroyansky). Ramiro is a surgeon who has been invited over, whether Kraken ad Suli decide to inform him at all, to perform corrective sex surgery in secret. Álvaro and Alex form a fragile friendship as their lazy days on beach pass creepily by. The dialogue between the two teenagers is startlingly frank:

Alex: “I’ve never fucked anyone. Want to now?”

Álvaro: “With who?”

Alex: “With me.”

Álvaro: “You’re too young.”

Alex: “I’m only fifteen.”

Eventually there is a confrontation midway into the film where Álvaro and Alex are caught up in one another’s sexual crisis. They are compelled by their need to connect with each other as well as their own confused and highly guarded urges. For anyone who felt uneasy watching the emotionally mature Brokeback Mountain (2006), will probably suffer a Scanners moment when they witness how the tables turn in an act of mounting. The tone of the picture achieves the right balance of sentimentality and a hardened sense of reality. The characters are well rounded and respond realistically to their circumstances. They remain true to their human nature. Rawness is ubiquitous. The nakedness of the performers both emotionally and viscerally approaches the tact of Cathrine Breillat’s brilliant Fat Girl (2001).

Natasha Braier’s desaturated cinematography and its conscious color palette throughout the film is very effective. The picture ranges from black shadows and rich sepia hues at night to the daylight’s gray roads, near white sand, harsh blue sky with occasional splashes of green foliage. The main titles takes place underwater where strange alien-like creatures pulsate and blow bubbles amongst the web-like reefs. The intimidating tone of the film is more creepy than most of the generic suspense thrillers that came out this year. The music by Andrés Goldstein and Daniel Tarrab compliments by being subtly somber.

This film, winner of the Critics Week Grand Prize at Cannes 2007, marks the directorial debut of Lucía Puenzo, daughter of Luis Puenzo (Oscar nominee The Official History, 1986). She adapted her screenplay from the short story Cinismo by Sergio Bizzio. After much writing for TV and feature films, Puenzo arrives fully formed as a talented and visceral storyteller. How the characters deal with the aftermaths and revelations of their actions are executed without negligence while maintaining some ambiguity that they are reasonably unable to capture at that age. Somehow, Puenzo’s film bares resemblance to Kimberly Peirce’s searing Boys Don’t Cry (1999) and achieving a niche of its own. This is one of the best movies of the year.

The new Batman franchise revived by Cristopher Nolan into a more grown-up alternative to the old very cartoon-like Batman movies of yore has quite simply just worked. It all worked. I do have a few criticisms though of the recent incarnation “The Dark Knight”… I think the Joker was a little bit too serious. Heath Ledger played the part brilliantly, but no doubt it was a dramatic move away from how the Joker was always portrayed in the comics, cartoons and even the previous movies and the twist in terms of the Jokers deformed smile was very interesting. It would be cool for Nolan, in other incarnations of the Batman series, to provide a look into the history of The Joker and his exploits in Gotham.

The change, however, is welcome. Something like this should’ve happened ages ago, since the comics themselves have been regenerated to fit a more mature audience in terms of content. I have to admit though, that even though the previous Batman movies were below par, the Riddler played by Jim Carrey would fit really well into the current Batman Begins and The Dark Knight movies. I’ve already seen rumours that Johnny Depp is being cast as the next Riddler… a move which should be very interesting, given Depp’s performance with odd-ball characters like Willy Wonka in “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”.

The introduction of Two-Face was brilliant and the tie-in with Dent’s previous experience as an Internal Affairs agent was very ingenious. The new bat-mobile wasn’t a re-engineering of sorts, but rather made to fit into the story rather than previous attempts which gave him a new car every time a new version of Batman came about. This new series of Batman movies have made all previous versions look extremely childish and made all those big Hollywood stars who took the place of Batman and his nemeses look like idiots. Good show!

Kevin Costner stars in his best role since, well, Dances with Wolves, as blue collar worker Bud Johnson in Joshua Michael Stern’s Swingvote. Costner’s usual bland performance shifts to bring color and emotion to a rough-around-the-edges character that could easily become too caricatured, but he manages to execute this role just right, balancing humor with pathos and revulsion. It leaves me wondering why Costner doesn’t choose grisly, blue-collar roles more often. He even proves a passable vocal talent in a brief solo as the front man to the Half Nelsons, Bud Johnson’s Willie Nelson tribute band. (Willie Nelson has a cameo, along with countless news network stars and pop culture icons). This answers my question as to why Pierce Brosnan was chosen for Mama Mia: Kevin Costner was busy with another project.

Joshua Michael Stern recreates the absurd atmosphere of an election circus as two presidential candidates vie for one man’s vote. The only one who successfully sidesteps the steaming political landmines is Bud’s daughter, Mollie, played by Madeline Carroll. Amidst trained, polished politicians played by Kelsey Grammer, Dennis Hopper, Nathan Lane, and Stanley Tucci is a young symbol of contagious political idealism and hope.

Without wasting any opportunity for parody or satire, Stern delivers an intelligent message to apathetic or unregistered voters and American candidates.

Enjoy.

Source

Warning: The following song is infectious and cause the consistent humming of it for the next twenty-four hours.

Check out the sweet Japanese montage for Ponyo on the Cliff. This is the next Hayao Miyazaki feature film to come after Howl’s Moving Castle (2004). Hopefully the story of a fish princess longing to be human with the help of a five-year-old boy will be much more compelling than his previous effort. I am expecting to be blown away from the man who has made Spirited Away (2002), quite possibly the best animated feature of this decade. For the record, Brad Bird’s The Incredibles (2003) is a nose behind.

While I’m on the upcoming animated beat, here’s the trailer for Disney’s The Princess and the Frog. Love the princess! Feel the frog’s pain! But I’m not sold on the firefly. Even the New Orleans French Quarter setting is inspired. The film reunites directors Ron Clements and John Musker since their work on Hercules, Aladdin, The Little Mermaid, and the criminally underrated classic The Great Mouse Detective. The princess will be voiced by the very fine Anika Noni Rose (Dreamgirls, 2006). The reliable John Goodman (Barton Fink, 1991) will also do a voice.

After four years, this is the first traditionally hand-drawn animated feature film released by Disney since Home on the Range (Anyone remember it? Anyone?). Thank the 2D-gods that John Lasseter has been instrumental in getting the Mickey Corporation to reconsider forgoing the animation method that has been the backbone of their industry for over eighty years. Hopefully this will be Disney’s return to form right after all of that magic dust Pixar has been sprinkling over it. “Sorry, Tink!”

Closet ABBA fans will unite for the release of Phyllida Lloyd’s Mama Mia, and won’t be disappointed by the casting of Meryl Streep and Amanda Seyfried as the mother/daughter duo. The classic Broadway musical, set on a Greek island during the 1970’s is quickly transformed on screen as a present-day vintage tribute to glam rock.

As the film progresses, the characters crank up the glam at regular intervals until the wardrobe morphs from vacation seersucker to items from an attic raid. Amanda Seyfried is not just a pretty face, and gets to show off her vocal talent as an innocent bride-to-be, opposite her “aunt” Tanya played by the cougar-esque Christine Baranski. Donna and Sophie’s plots are paralleled, both flanked by identical supporting friends, until Donna/Meryl overshadows Sophie/Seyfried.

Streep proves once again that she is capable of anything- acting, singing, dancing, and leading a multi-generational female entourage with youthful leaps.

The same cannot be said for Pierce Brosnan’s vocal performance. It is lyrically evident that his character struggles with emotional pain, but it appears that singing is physically painful for Brosnan as well. It seems singing actually hurts him as much as it hurts the audience to listen. Given two solos, Brosnan was miscast for this role- and the costume glam getup doesn’t help him at all.

If Lloyd was looking for an all-star cast, or just someone to equalize Streep’s onscreen presence by sheer middle-age eye candy, perhaps she has learned her lesson and will hold future auditions according to musical aptitude.