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The Hunger Games.
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You guys should really watch "Battle Royale". Same story, done better.Comment
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The Raid: Redemption
(AKA Serbuan Maut)
Directed by Gareth Evans.
2011. Rated R, 101 minutes.
Cast:
Iko Uwais
Donny Alamsyah
Joe Taslim
Yayan Ruhian
Pierre Gruno
Ray Sahetapy
Tegar Satrya
Iang Darmawan
Right from the start, the most important detail, one we haven’t even been explicitly told yet, is painfully obvious.
Within a few minutes we’re shown Rama (Uwais), a rookie cop and soon-to-be father, with what amounts to a SWAT team of 20 officers on their way to take down an apartment building run by the notorious Tama (Sahetapy) solely for the purpose of harboring fugitives. Yes, the bad guys will far outnumber the good guys. The crucial piece of info we’re not told can be easily surmised from what Rama says to the people at home, before reporting for duty. I won’t spoil it, you’ll probably figure it out on your own in a few minutes into your own viewing. There are several other “twists”. However, these are more along the lines of “well, duh” rather than “wow!” One character who plays a pivotal role is a tenant whom we have to doubt would ever be anywhere near this building. These things are a death-knell for a most movies. In The Raid: Redemption they barely matter.
What matters is that the time you spent reading the first paragraph is just slightly less than the total “downtime” you’ll have watching this flick. Catching your breath is only occasionally an option. What matters is you’ll be watching some of the most exciting, brutal and beautifully shot action to grace the screen in some time. The first half features a relentless assault of gunfire that would make John Woo proud. It’s all kicked off by one of the most amazing bullet-time sequences I’ve ever seen. The second half sees the shooting take a back seat to bone-crunching martial arts. One character even puts down his gun in favor of a fist fight, proclaiming “This is what I do.” Indeed, it is.
Non-stop action can become tedious and weighed down from dragging around a clunky narrative. Even worse, they just go on forever. I’m talking to you, Michael Bay. Here, the barely over 90 minute frame is perfectly suited to carry a flimsy, yet effective enough story while we ooh, aah and cringe at the visuals. It’s an action film that knows how long it has before losing us and wants nothing more than to assault our eyes. Mission accomplished on that front. For you action junkies, this is the stuff of your wet dreams. On the other hand, if you’re looking for things like depth, character development, witty dialogue, etc., they are not found nor welcomed here. And it’s still a great movie, just not for the squeamish.
MY SCORE: 8.5/10Comment
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Our Idiot Brother
Directed by Jesse Peretz.
2011. Rated R, 96 minutes.
Cast:
Paul Rudd
Elizabeth Banks
Zooey Deschanel
Emily Mortimer
Hugh Dancy
Rashida Jones
Steve Coogan
Shirley Knight
Ned (Rudd) is a lovable man-child who has three sisters: Miranda (Banks), Natalie (Deschanel) and Liz (Mortimer). True to the movie’s title, he’s arrested within a few minutes of us meeting him for selling marijuana to a uniformed officer. Yes, he sells weed to a cop in uniform. Fast forward to the day he gets released from prison. Not only has his job as an organic farmer vanished, but his girl has replaced him with a guy who could be his clone and kicks him out of the house. She won’t even let him have the dog he absolutely adores. With nowhere else to go, he goes back to mom’s house. Due to circumstances and opportunity he then winds up spending a little time living with each of his sisters. He accidentally wreaks havoc on each of their lives mostly by not knowing when to shut up.
Calling Ned an idiot is putting it mildly. The same applies to calling this movie idiotic. He’s presented as a charming dunce who has apparently never met a stranger. People freely confide in him things they’ve never told anyone else despite only recently meeting him. He can’t help but regurgitate what he’s heard to anyone who bothers to ask. In addition, he accepts any explanation given to him for things he sees with his own eyes as if he’s a three year old. The film merely plays on these things by dropping him into a vicious cycle. He moves in with one of his sisters, repeats something he’s been told or talks about something he’s seen and that sister’s life goes spiraling out of control, not they had any control to begin with. The sister then kicks him out and it’s on to the next house to repeat the process.
Allegedly, Our Idiot Brother is a comedy. However, very little of it is funny. Instead, we just roll our eyes in disbelief at how stupid this man is, wonder if he has some undiagnosed disability. Slogging through the movie is made all the more tedious because we can easily tell what this is all leading to. In case you plan on seeing this I won’t come right out and say it. I will ask you this: what happens in every other movie where a mentally challenged individual is surrounded by self-centered, busy people who think he’s a burden. If you know the answer to this question you’ve no need to bother with Our Idiot Brother.
MY SCORE: 3/10Comment
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We Need to Talk About Kevin
Directed by Lynne Ramsay.
2011. Rated R, 112 minutes.
Cast:
Tilda Swinton
Ezra Miller
John C. Reilly
Jasper Newell
Ashley Gerasimovich
Siobhan Fallon
Alex Manette
James Chen
The last sixteen years have been a living hell for Eva (Swinton). Things don’t appear to be getting better. She spends most of her days agonizing over what has happened during that time which culminates with her teenage son Kevin (Miller) in jail. She lives alone in a shabby little house that’s a wreck, both inside and out and goes to visit her boy quite often. The two mostly sit across a table and stare at each other. They don’t seem to be mother and son so much as they do a pair of adversaries inextricably stuck with one another and forced to behave. Through flashbacks we see pretty much Kevin’s entire life. It does indeed seem as if he’s hated her literally from day one of his existence. Soon, the feeling becomes mutual. However, realizing that a mom shouldn’t feel that way about her boy she continues to give her relationship with him the old college try. Unfortunately, the boy just seems evil.
It’s clear right from the beginning that Kevin has not just committed a crime, but done something especially heinous. It’s so bad that Eva is shunned by everyone in town. One lady even has enough gumption to punch her in the face and call her names as they pass each other on the street. For what it’s worth, Kevin doesn’t seem the least remorseful about anything. Didn’t I say he’s evil.
When I say evil, I don’t mean it in the way we normally think of when talking about horror flicks. Kevin isn’t possessed by some revenge-seeking demon or a host for the devil. He just seems to be a bad kid from the start. This dredges up the old nature vs. nurture argument. Was he born rotten or did life spoil him?
Truth told, We Need to Talk About Kevin isn’t actually categorized under horror. I’ve seen it called a psychological thriller, a drama and/or a suspense. Though it has elements of all of those, I wouldn’t say any of those descriptions is truly fitting. I would say it has as much, if not more, in common with fright flicks as anything else. It’s a horror made all the more unsettling because we’re too familiar with both the familial situation and the situation Kevin creates. It could be happening next door. The potential for this story to spring to life right before us, as it too often has, is far scarier than the prospects of some boogeyman in a dingy, tattered get-up disemboweling all of our friends while cracking witty one-liners. The terror comes from the context. That said, it’s not a movie you’d be pressed to watch alone in the dark. The sinking feeling it gives us has nothing to do with what might be lurking about just beyond our field of vision. It comes more from what we can plainly see but may not be willing to believe.
No matter which box we try to put it in, WNtTAK is unconventional. It, along with Eva seems to exist in a near constant dream like state like they’re both incredulous as to how things have turned out. There really is no plot, just the endless pain of her existence as flashbacks and current events alternate screen time. The other is never far from thought.
While the thematic occurrences are intriguing, they would be a hard sell if not for the amazing work turned in by Tilda Swinton. She’s perfectly perplexed at the mess her life has become. Not to be outdone are the three gentlemen handling the role of Kevin. While Miller handles the role in its final incarnation amazingly, he receives a great setup from the tykes who handle the younger versions. In particular, Jasper Newell, who plays Kevin between ages six and eight is remarkable. The two boys complement each other extremely well making for a seamless combined portrayal.
The pacing is a bit slow and the score, while moody, isn’t terribly exciting. This makes it a difficult watch for some. Regardless of which genre you think this belongs, you’re in the wrong place if you’re looking for a mile-a-minute popcorn flick. There is nothing wrong with those kinds of movies, I love plenty of them. However, they’re fleeting and light snacks. We Need to Talk About Kevin is heavy, stick to your ribs food.
MY SCORE: 8.5/10Comment
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I think your review of "Our Idiot Brother" is one of the rare times we disagree on a movie haha. I enjoyed it, but that's probably because I really like Paul Rudd and didn't go into it expecting any kind of great storylines.
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I like Rudd, too. I wasn't necessarily looking for a great story, but at least for it to be funny. Unfortunately, I didn't laugh much. Since I wasn't laughing I just passed the time by nit-picking it until it completely fell apart for me.Comment
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Roadie
Directed by Michael Cuesta.
2011. Rated R, 95 minutes.
Cast:
Ron Eldard
Jill Hennessy
Bobby Cannavale
Lois Smith
Catherine Wolf
Suzette Gunn
True to the movie’s title, Jimmy (Eldard) has been schlepping bags for the band Blue Oyster Cult ever since he got out of high school twenty years ago. We meet him on the day he’s been fired, desperately trying to convince them via cellphone to reconsider and take him on their next tour. Unsuccessful, he arrives back home in Queens to stay with the mother he hasn’t seen in quite some time. He runs into some old friends at a local bar and reminisces about old times. Eventually, long buried emotions and scars resurface. While Jimmy is an adult, it’s obvious he hasn’t really grown up. It’s clear in his constant need to pretend he’s a big shot. The standard lie he tells is he now manages Blue Oyster Cult and has even written and produced a few of their songs. That the band hasn’t been popular for a while makes it a story people willingly accept.
The other lie is he’s only in town for a day or so until he’s off to South America with the band. This makes Jimmy a hard guy to really like. What helps are the few moments of unbridled honesty that he musters. It is at these times we recognize him as passionate but insecure, filled with bluster about how road-hardened he is yet emotionally fragile. Years living on the fringes of the rock star lifestyle seems to have stunted his growth. It’s evident that his former classmates, ex-girlfriend Nikki (Hennessy) and her husband Randy (Cannavale), who used to give Jimmy a hard time, haven’t grown up that much, either. Even now, Randy insists on calling Jimmy by an unflattering nickname. Jimmy still carries a torch for Nikki and does a poor job hiding it. This manifests itself into the edge on which the rest of the movie teeters. Like his time with the band, this is one more thing he can’t quite let go. We know that he must, for his own sake, but fear he might be incapable. The situation is exacerbated because it appears the others won’t let it go, either.
By now, you should’ve gotten the idea that Roadie is a film built upon conversations. That means the acting has to be on point for this to work. There are no action or sex scenes to distract us from watching the people involved as opposed to just their bodies. Thankfully, all of the performers are excellent. In the lead role, Eldard delivers what is sure to be one of the most overlooked performances of 2011. It’s a role that demands him to ooze confusion and self-doubt. He presents us with a true man-child who is unfortunately staring blankly at a crossroads. No less effective are the two ladies in the cast: Lois Smith as Jimmy’s mom and Jill Hennessy as the one that got away. Smith is absolutely perfect. Hennessy’s Nikki mirrors Jimmy with her own tough exterior concealing a gooey center. She also has the added weight of being everyone’s focal point, which the actress bears well but the character does not. The showiest role belongs to Cannavale as Nikki’s loud-mouthed hubby. He’s a grade A jackass, the variety of which we all know at least one. He also gives us some comic relief, but the laughs are uneasy.
Like a lot of movies, one of the problems is the expectations set by its advertising. Once again, I have to refer to a DVD cover as the main culprit. This one exclaims ‘sex, drugs and rock-n-roll!’ and sets Roadie up as a rollicking musical drama. It is not anything of the sort. As already mentioned, there is no sex. There are a good deal of drugs, but the rock-n-roll consists of people playing really old records (yes, records) and passionately pontificating about them and the state of music. This drama made up of everyday people. It’s a character study which doesn’t really answer our most important questions. Instead, it leaves us to ponder them on our own.
MY SCORE: 7.5/10Comment
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Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows
Directed by Guy Ritchie.
2011. Rated PG-13, 129 minutes.
Cast:
Robert Downey Jr.
Jude Law
Noomi Rapace
Jared Harris
Stephen Fry
Rachel McAdams
Eddie Marsan
Geraldine James
Paul Anderson
Kelly Reilly
As is always the case, we find Sherlock Holmes (Downey Jr.) embroiled in the biggest case of his career. He’s matching wits with Professor James Moriarty (Harris) who appears to have connections to assassinations around the globe. However, his sanity seems to be waning when his right hand man Watson (Law) finds him in quite a disheveled state. After getting wind of what Holmes is up to, Watson makes clear that he will not help on this one because he’s getting married and leaving for his honeymoon tomorrow. Since a Sherlock Holmes adventure is nothing without Watson, it’s inevitable that our hero convinces his sidekick to tag along “just this once.”
With regards to the main plot, solving the case, A Game of Shadows works very well. It’s less convoluted and without the notions of supernatural occurrences of its predecessor. We get a bad guy who is an intellectual match for our hero. The two have some enjoyable back-and-forths. We also get some well-presented action sequences. Director Guy Ritchie doesn’t deviate from the visual style of the orginal, which he also helmed, and it pays off. The one carry over that doesn’t work quite as well is Sherlock’s ability to completely predict a momentarily upcoming situation. It’s okay for the most part but grows tired. The way Ritchie tries to inject life back into it, doesn’t actually help: it becomes a telepathic conversation between Holmes and his adversary.
The story surrounding the conflict is where AGoS falters. It masks its flaws with comedy that’s actually pretty well done. Though often settling on slapstick and cranking the homoerotic factor to 11, it’s fun and keeps things moving along. Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law work both aspects well showcasing wonderful chemistry throughout. While Downey has the flashier role, Law is perfect straight man. The pun is intended because I can crack homoerotic jokes, too. The problem lies within the part of the tale it brings up as rather prominent then abruptly drops. Okay, I didn’t really how punny that sentence was until I was actually typing it out. Sorry. Let’s move on.
Remember what I said about Sherlock’s sanity? Well, we never follow that thread. Doing so has the potential to provide the franchise with serious depth. However, the operative word is “serious.” Probably in order to keep ticket revenue fairly deep into nine digit territory, Guy Ritchie seems dead set against doing anything thought provoking. Whimsy, fisticuffs and chases rule the Sherlock Holmes universe. If that is indeed the case, the movie would’ve been better off not even mentioning that our hero might be a little off.
Honestly, I may be nit-picking a bit. Then again, that’s what you’re here for. Still, let’s not forget AGoS is a fun ride. As mentioned, Downey and Law are both great. Meanwhile, the action and humor makes the time go by pretty quickly. If you enjoyed the first movie, I see no reason you shouldn’t like this one. I will say it’s just a shade below its predecessor on quality. By the way, fans of the original Swedish version of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo get a nice treat seeing Noomi Rapace as our damsel in distress. It’s a role that requires very little of her immense talent, but I suspect it pays a lot better.
MY SCORE: 7/10Comment
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The only scene I really enjoyed in Sherlock Holmes 2 was the flashforward of the fight at the very end and when Moriarty stabbed Holmes with a hook. It was the only point in the film that revealed why he is Holmes greatest nemesis.Comment
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The BBC series Sherlock did a better job at showing why Moriarty is such a great match for Holmes.Comment
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Black Fist
Directed by Timothy Galfas and Richard Kaye.
1974. Rated R, 93 minutes.
Cast:
Richard Lawson
Dabney Coleman
Philip Michael Thomas
Robert Burr
Annazette Chase
Charles L. Hamilton
Denise Gordy
Richard Kaye
Ed Rue
Edward James Olmos
You know a movie is gonna be good and turrible, grammar and spelling intended, when it has two directors and goes by at least three titles. Such is the case with Black Fist, AKA Bogard, AKA Black Street Fighter, possibly AKA Homeboy. Legend has it that one of the main reasons for the multiple directors and titles is that the finished product is actually two crappy movies spliced together to form one mass of Blaxploitation goodness. Someone else will have to confirm all that for you. All I know is I’m about to have a ball! In keeping with genre traditions, I suggest completely ignoring any title which doesn’t include the word “Black.” With that in mind, let’s move on.
Before we actually get to the movie, we’ll just get the trivia round out of the way early. In other words, this is semi-interesting stuff I couldn’t find another spot for within the actual review. Some days, I suck. Anyhoo, Black Fist AKA lots of other stuff, marks the big screen debut of Edward James Olmos. Now that I know his long and wonderful career started here, I have even more respect for him than I had after my first viewing of the awesome American Me. He is only one of the former Miami Vice cast members in this movie. We’ll get to the other guy in just a bit. There is another bit of totally inconsequential info. Also making her cinematic debut is Denise Gordy: niece of Motown music mogul Berry, eventual wife and ex-wife of this movie’s star and baby-mama to the late great Marvin Gaye. Enough of this ‘Before They Were Stars’ crap, I’ve got a movie to talk about.
Our black street fighter with the black fist is named Leroy (Lawson). No disrespect to all the brothas named Leroy out there, but you can’t get any more stereotypical than that. This is a cause for pause, as in I’m pausing the movie to pop some popcorn and grab a brew. Gotta set the mood cuz I don’t know when the next time will be that I’ll have so much fun with my pants on and zipped up. Too much? Whatever.
Dig it, Leroy can’t seem to find a gig. He needs to make some bread cuz he’s got a wife to take care of…and a girlfriend. No jive. His game must be tight cuz this never becomes an issue. I would say this ain’t stereotypical, but I don’t feel like wasting any of my valuable sarcasm. Leroy has a constantly stumblin’ bumblin’ homie named Fletch. A quick look at Fletch reveals that this is obviously not Chevy Chase. Research the reference if you don’t get it. Hey, wait a sec. Oh snap! That over-acting dude is future Miami Vice star Philip Michael Thomas! Don’t get too attached to Fletch. He winds up dead. Ahem, sorry…Spoiler Alert! Well, not really. That he dies becomes relevant for a bizarre reason we’ll discuss later. For now, just know that Fletch hooks Leroy up with local gangster Logan (Burr). Of course Logan is white. Know your Blaxploitation!
Logan is into all kinds of stuff, but his pride and joy is his stable of bare-knuckle street fighters. He also gets a kick out of droppin’ N-bombs on his black employees, the highest ranking of which joins in on the fun. Talk about a house negro. Regardless, Leroy wants to be down. Apparently, there’s lots of bread to made bustin’ heads. Logan sets Leroy up with an audition fight. Our boy promptly takes a whoopin’, but Logan likes his spunk and hires him anyway. Since he’s not ready to take on the mean streets, Logan only has one thing to do: subject Leroy and us to a rigorous training montage.
Before too long, Leroy starts kickin’ ass and rakin’ in the dough. He’s doing so well, his down time is much more relaxing than it was before. Yes, this means another montage. This time we get to see him take long walks in the park and makin’ sweet sweet love with his wife then hangin’ out at the girlfriend’s crib countin’ stacks of money and makin’ more sweet sweet love. No jive.
You just have to know that happiness is short-lived. Suddenly, sleazy cop Heineken starts sniffin’ ‘round for a cut of Leroy’s winnings in exchange for not throwin’ the black street fighter’s black ass in jail. Woah, wait. The cop’s name is Heineken? Hot damn, I’m drinkin’ one of those right now! Woah, wait again. The cop is future co-star of so much stuff I care not to name, Dabney Coleman! I must say that, as a sleazy pig, he’s perfect. He’s even slimier than Logan, whom this eventually leads back to cuz that’s who he works for. My bad: Spoiler Alert! Doesn’t drinking imported beer from a green bottle make you feel more important? No? Just me? Forget it.
Leroy figures out the whole shebang and wants out, but not before he has one last big money fight. He lets it be known he won’t be sharing any of the proceeds when he wins. Brothas and sistas, you know tha man won’t let that slide. After the exit fight, Logan has someone try to kill Leroy by blowin’ up the dude’s car. Small problem with this course of action: Leroy’s not in his ride, but his very pregnant wife and her brother are. Dead. Oops. Woah, wait. Let’s back up a tiny bit. Before walking out to the car we see pregnant wifey sitting in the club that Leroy just bought with his black fists and drinking something out of a wine glass that was definitely not water. The 70s were great.
Did you see what just happened, here? For those of you so mesmerized by my skillful and imaginative prose that you somehow missed the unsubtle nuances of the story, I’ll explain. We have stopped watching a sports movie and are on to the revenge flick portion of our feature.
Ah, revenge flicks. You know the drill. Our hero has to question, beat down and/or kill a lot of people until he gets back to Logan. The first person to get the “Punisher” treatment is some cat with a heavy Hispanic accent who goes by the name Boom Boom. Apparently, Boom Boom got his name because he’s an expert…woah, wait. Oh snap! That over-acting dude is future Miami Vice star Philip Michael Thomas! No, I did not accidentally copy and paste, this is not any sort of typographical error and I’m not crazy. Philip Michael Thomas indeed plays two completely unrelated roles in the same movie without any makeup to disguise the fact and dies both times. Brothas and sistas, that last sentence could truly have been the entire review. It says far more than the rest of the masturbatory drivel I’ve spewed all over this delectable dreck. In case you missed the not-so-hidden meaning in the most recent of my brilliant statements, understand this: the only type of movie that would even attempt to pull off such tomfoolery is one that’s so bad it’s awesome! No jive.
MY SCORE: -10/10Comment
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