Shark Night, Apollo 18 – The Scary

This weekend is headlined by a couple of scary movies. While I am not a fan, I know there is a large contingent of stoners that love the gross and freaky. First is Shark Night 3D. The plot reads like a mini game for a smart phone. A group of kids have to get across a lake filled with hundreds of sharks before the sharks eat them all. But hey, it’s in 3D so you can waste a few extra bucks on some gory screams.

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The other ‘throw your popcorn in the air’ thriller is Apollo 18. By jumping straight to 18, this franchise leapfrogs Saw, which is only up to 8 or 9. Sadly, it is not another Tom Hanks in a closet movie(Uh.. Hollywood, We have a problem). Instead we get something that looks a lot more like Blair Witch on the Moon. This time the campers are astronauts and, due to foolish movie accountants, this one has the big bucks to have super scary special effects. Boo!

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Detective Dee and Gainsbourg – The Picks

The trippiest visuals this weekend come packaged in a Kung-Fu Epic meets Action Mystery. Detective Dee and the Mystery of the Phantom Flame sounds like a kids movie, but the trailer shows massive choreographed sequences in even larger CG fantasies. Some of the CG may be less than stellar, but the vision shines through. Should be fun if a bit of the green doesn’t destroy subtitled films for you.

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The other film creating a lot of buzz is Gainsbourg: A Heroic Life. A Retro Biopic about a super cool french musician. The presentation looks awesome and you know the music will be top notch. If you dig the music, which you should, then Gainsbourg should be a multi-sensory scooby snack

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The Debt

In the serious cinema category, we have Hellen Mirren in The Debt. Told as parallel stories of young Nazi hunters and their elder selves, it appears a fine film. I expect it raises some interesting moral questions with at least a few intriguing answers.

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Love and Orgies

In the more limited releases, there is a lot of sex this week. First is Love Crime. a quasi-french eroto-drama. You have to ask yourself if this is the kind of film you want to see in a dark room full of strangers. If the genre sounds interesting, I’d stay home and find a copy of The Swimming Pool (THC Review here), which seems darker and more original with fewer subtitles.

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If you like some laughs with your sexual boundary challenging cinema, A Good Old Fashioned Orgy might be your ticket. Overall it looks to be a mediocre effort. The Village Voice review shows that if you think really hard, it can be a fascinating ride, but deep thinking and orgies aren’t always compatible activities. Don’t worry. It is fun and transgressive, but certainly not pornographic.

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Finishing the naughty trifecta we have the Japanese film Love Exposure. If you think the Japanese are repressed and weird, here is a movie about a devout catholic japanese school boy’s desire to please his priest father by taking pictures of young girls underpants. It would seem to be formulaic, only I can’t say I know which formula.

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Trailer of the Week

This weeks TotW is from Martin Scorsese’s documentary about the dark horse Beatle, George Harrison. As some of the first mass market proponents of The High Culture, The Beatles have a soft spot in this searcher’s heart. Enjoy!

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1. Weekend Outlook 10/23

Firstly, Avatar gave me a big, blue boner. I can’t wait to see the Na’vi cosplayers at Comic Con this year. Though there won’t be maybe people who can pull off anything but “chubby Na’vi”. Those CGI fuckers had like 0% body fat.

The fact that I felt conflicted about Avatar is probably a good thing. I can’t just unqualifiedly say that I liked it. There was a ton that I did like; it looked lush and deep, and I wasn’t thinking “okay this is real, this is CGI”. It was extremely immersive and visually enjoyable. The technology and characters were like a pastiche of earlier James Cameron films, (Carter Burke! As easy to loathe today as he was in the 80s!) but that’s not a bad thing.  And the 3D was the least bad, most unobtrusive of any I’ve ever seen.  It seemed to push back the background rather than pulling out the foreground, deepening scenes instead of smacking you in the face with protruberances.

However, the story was simplistic, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Not every movie can or should be Fight Club or a Shyamalamamamanian piece or something like that. In fact, the simple story seems to be making a comeback lately, possibly as a reaction to the “what a tweest!” mentality that has been entrenched in Hollywood for the past decade or two.

Also, the message of environmental harmony and whatnot, whilst being a message I agree with, was brandished like a club and the audience was beaten severely about the head and neck with it. On the one hand this is bad. I can imagine the reaction of right-wing punditry shitting on Avatar as a product of liberal, hate-America-first Hollywood. It’ll turn some folks off. On the other hand, it strikes me as good. Hopefully, a fucking ton of little kids who might miss a more subtle message will be enthralled by Avatar and grow into adults with a deeply ingrained sense of anti-imperialism.

I realize that I liked just about everything about the movie. However it didn’t grab me by my viscera. It didn’t make me believe in the world. When the bad guys took down the Na’vi treehouse, yeah, there was an emotional response, a bit… like the way I feel when I see that video of the US soldier in the Iraq throwing a puppy off a cliff; ashamed of people in general. But when I was a kid I really REALLY got into this stuff. Now, I’m older and I can’t enjoy it the same way. So I guess my discontentment with the film is mostly within myself. Also, it concerns me a bit that our society (America, the West, Humanity in general) can empathize more with the big blue aliens on the screen in front of them than they can with real people half way around the world. But , if Avatar can kindle that empathy in a generation of children, that’d be damn good thing.

Avatar on IMDB

Addendum: I’ve now seen Avatar a second time, and it holds up, and in fact it even got better.  I was past all my expectations about what the movie would be and was able to immerse in the film (with the help of some herbal refreshment) and enjoy the Avatarness in all it’s glory.  My previous criticism still applies, but it’s extremely enjoyable as a moviegoing experience.  All around pretty enthralling, tho I still can’t get totally invested, with childlike fascination.  Which is good, because I’m an adult now, and I don’t want to wind up like the guy on the right in the picture above…

Also, I’m fairly certain I saw some blue nip-slips, but the Na’vi look so realistic that it’d feel tawdry to go on about it.

<Ahem>.

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The Oscar winner doing some publicity.

Starring Megan Fox, a front runner for Pot Pinup of the Year, Jennifer’s Body appears on the surface to be a straight forward film. It is situated between Jawbreaker, Carrie, Heathers, Scream and a whole host of edgy teen morgue comedies. But this one has an acclaimed writer!

As anything with Megan Fox, it is impossible to ignore her off screen antics and persona when watching her on film. In a recent New York Times article she said that her persona has been created as an offering for sacrifice. She talks of the characters she inhabits for the purposes of interviews. It is a fascinating article. Unfortunately, she hasn’t figured out how to translate that to her paying gigs. In Jennifer’s Body she has many more lines than she is used to, and sadly, it shows.

Before we crucify a whole film on Megan Fox’s malformed thumbs, we should sit down, bud up and take it all in. As I mentioned, the fascinating part of horror films to me and my high mind is the over arching metaphors uncovered in the carnage. The genre, along with scifi, is fertile for social commentary and dark revelations. I tried. I tried very hard, but Ms. Cody wasn’t willing to meet me half way. While the movie is a crafted teenie film with sexual themes, the only one that popped out was a possible conflicted relationship between the writer and her own womanhood. Every month raw sexual power is renewed in a sacrifice of blood. Both alluring and powerful, the socially integrated and less confident alter-ego struggles with her relationship to the bombshell man eater. In the end, these two are unable to coexist. This menstrual meditation still felt somewhat hollow.

The relationship between these poles, sex and responsibility, is the best fleshed out portion of the movie. When Jennifer’s friend, Amanda Seyfried, uncovers the demonic transgressions of her best friend, she is honestly conflicted. If you spin it together into some Fight Club-esque slurry (i.e. they are the same entity) it becomes more compelling. Joined together they create a moral quandary for the responsible psyche vs. the raw sexual power women posses, but the simplicity strains when set in a feature film.

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Archeology might posit that the delayed transition from child to adult was commensurate with the development of mind and culture. (Personally, I wouldn’t be surprised to find the shift fell from an early hominid penchant for the sticky icky.)

Kristen Stewart ('Em' in Adventureland) reenacts the early hominid breakthrough.

It is no accident that these personal stories resonate so frequently across boundaries, or that when we find a story close to our own, we cherish it with warm devotion. Either way, these tales have the deck stacked in their favor.

Adventureland is a softer side of the Superbad coin. Written and directed by Superbad’s Greg Mottola, it is set in a non-desrcript Pittsburgh and follows some 20-somethings through the summer of ’87 at the eponymous ramshackle amusement park. It never strays far from the script, but it also never drops sincerity.

James just graduated from college and has his eyes on the standard issue backpack trip through Europe followed by a stint in Ivy League grad school. Monkey wrench! His parents can’t finance his faux intellectual hipster lifestyle. James rolls home, tail between his legs and, like many modern sagas, find himself without sail or rudder.

Older tales would feature the youth confronted with trials and ordeals. Hercules, Theseus, or Galahad testing their strength and moral character. In the more recent era of The Graduate, Rushmore and The Goonies these tales shape a new ordeal. Reconciliation and putting aside childish things. Acknowledgement of the fucked up state of society, but a willingness to find a place in the world.

All of the characters, including the adults, in Adventureland are pulsating with this revelation. Like The Graduate, profession, future, romance and self are all at stake. Without a Minotaur what beast should we slay? Without a ritual, what tells a boy he is a man? It is almost post-modern. A self realization of an enmity in our social makeup towards passage, blessed or profane, becomes its own prize.

In the film, as in life, moments of separation and clarity are catalyzed by the green. As much of the characters’ lives are sprinkled with weed, so to is the essence of the film. In the same way Dazed and Confused introduced the concept “be a lot cooler if you did”, Advetureland puts the theory to practice. An affected deification of Lou Reed, with the proper mental alterations, becomes genuine as you are swept away in a Velvet haze. My own formative summer fits its teeth cogs right into the story. I get where they are coming from. The fellowship from a shared joint passed out of the screen.

For the level headed, it is another, if less zany, coming of age story from the Superbad guy. For the high minded, it is Greg Mottola’s sincere take on coming of age. One that finds roots in a little indica.

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I was intrigued, but the fine print sold it. Presented by David Fincher and Spike Jonze. From past experience, I knew that these two make movies (Fight Club and Being John Malkovich, respectively) that tickle the high minded. Directed by Tarsem, who previosly had done ‘The Cell’, this film promised some serious eye candy and that was enough for me.

Set in a hospital in Los Angeles circa 1915, The Fall tells the story of a young girl with a broken arm and another patient spinning yarns, to which the girl becomes enthralled. The Fall, essentially, is an exploration of shared hallucinations. The relationship between the story teller and the audience. How can the story manipulate. In the first order we can easily see how a story works from mouth to ear. His words vibrating into her mind and transforming into wonder. And this is the masterful moment of the film. That wonder captured with the fidelity of the young girls imagination.

With our belief in reality suspended, we too inhabit this incoherent juvenile fantasy replete with mythological transferences of the world we have yet to comprehend. While the psychological frame might be a bit flimsy, the imagery is certainly not. The film oscillates between the hospital and the fantasy epic. Just like the little girl, I find myself longing for more of the fantasy, just to see what it will look like. Shot across 18 countries and a wardrobe of increasingly bombastic costumes, the imaginary allegory is scintillating.

The only flaw is in the second order of the shared hallucination. The effect of the follower on the priest. The fantasy is tailored for the congregation. In this case, the solitary girl. As we move along, the act of telling the story and manipulating her mind creates a reverberation that strikes back at the teller. While the cycle does complete, it comes across without the sincerity we found in the first charming acts of the film.

From this audience member, I felt wholly like a member of the clandestine fellowship bringing the story to life, but as the film tried to incorporate deeper themes, it outstretched the skill of its makers. Where the first 3/4 of the film showed impeccable taste, the climax was strained and oddly bland.

With the right frame of mind, I strongly recommend The Fall for marinauts looking for some eye candy somewhere between The Princess Bride and Terry Gilliam’s more whimsical fare. If you are a stickler for crushingly real despair and could care less for arresting imagery, walk on down the aisle and find another box cover.

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Halloween is just around the corner, so we see several films dogging in on the holiday spirit. Cirque du Freak: The Vampire’s Assistant, Saw VI, Antichrist, and Stan Helsing.

The Vampire’s Assistant appears to have some style (and an impressive cast), but the story of a 14 year old stumbling into a carnival of circus freaks doesn’t appear to tickle the silly bone. The visuals doo look striking, but early word is it takes itself too seriously. I would save my shake.

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Saw VI – I trust you already know if this is a film you want to watch, although I’m sure if you want VI to be your first in the series, you won’t be missing that much.

Stan Helsing comes straight from the Scary Movie folk. I’m certain it will be another hokey spoof. While excruciating to most, spoof lovers might want to toke up, but keep those expectations 6 ft. under.

Lars Von Trier’s Antichrist is getting reviews proclaiming it gruesome, beautiful, genius, shocking  and a film that should never have been made. I love the sound of that, but it might be too heavy for the light headed, but if you like your horro films slow, bloody and with a heavy dose of psycholigical destruction, you might want to subject yourself to this indie flick, just make certain you have your shrink’s number close by.

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But it isn’t all doom and gloom this weekend. Hillary Swank plays one of the great inspirational women in history, Amelia Earhart. Well, it does kind of end badly, I’m guessing, but that hasn’t stopped the early buzz from being terrible. Amelia sounds like a definite pass.

From the PG set we have Osamu Tezuka’s ur-Manga Astro Boy in CGI animated feature glory. Unfortunately this one gets the dreaded praise “an entertaining film that should satisfy both adults and children”. Time may show this to be a psychedelic smorgasbord, but I am skeptical.

My personal roll of the dice for this weekend’s blazer is a documentary called Act of God. It ‘examines the effects of lightning strikes beyond just the physical.’ The hair on my arms is standing on end already.

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1. Weekend Outlook

Filled with the hipster trailer and marketing push, I’m fired up and ready to go. As the smoke clears, the credits roll. Every studio and production title screen has a hand drawn ‘MAX’ somewhere on it. Cute, but a bit forced. He goads his older sisters friends into a snow ball fight. They take it too far and his sister ignores him. His single mother ignores him for work (he thinks). Ignores him for the wine sipping suitor. It is a bit much.

In his landmark work, ‘Understanding Comics’, Scott McCloud discusses iconography and specificity. Iconic figures in illustrations lack detail. It allows the viewer to transfer their own experience onto that image. More detail is added to make a person or item special. Think of Winnie the Pooh. Pooh has almost no detail, but the trees in the background show the lines in the bark and leaves on the branches. Pooh bear can be anyone… even you. The Hundred Acre Wood, however, are a very specific place. The effect is fantasy teleportation. You imagine the inner life of the characters, but you do so in the distant refuge of Christopher Robbins.

Notice the lack of detail in Pooh's face compared with the bark and leaves of the tree.

In the book and the movie, Max (played by Max Records) wears a disguise. The purpose of a disguise is to obscure true identity. Spike Jonze short circuits the grid by placing Max in a set of circumstances that steer away from empathy by using logic. The movie shifts away from the universal of the book towards a very personal film about one boy in a stale cliche household.

Once we leave suburbia and move to Where The Wild Things Are, Jonze becomes much more comfortable. Some rumpus is had and there are striking scenes. The looks is often just short of spectacular. The creatures are a hybrid of college mascots on acid and computer generated faces. The eerie expressiveness of the faces paired with the clumsiness of their movement splits that hallucinogenic hair. The beasts’ social structure and personalities are obtusely discernible. Do they represent people in Max’s life? Are they components of Max’s psyche? As the THC tries to tie it together, nothing seems to stick. It doesn’t add up, and it isn’t supposed to.

And the music. I and a huge Yeah Yeah Yeahs fan, but that did get old, especially with the spectacular Arcade Fire trailer. The trailer showed magic where the feature showed fancy. Maybe it is a case of unrealistic expectations. I think, instead, we see a film that tamed the wild and pulled away from the human. It makes me want to watch the trailer again.

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High cinema increases empathy, and that strongly helps Where the Wild Things Are. Jonze has brought a film to the screen that is truly his and he should be proud of it, but it falls short of being a Max for everyone…. ROAR!

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Okay, full disclosure… I play in a zombie themed rock band. I’ve been on zombie walks. I watched Night of the Living Dead when I was 11 and my mom got us our fist VCR… so I’m a bit of a zombie enthusiast I guess. But I didn’t enjoy Zombieland for the zombies. They weren’t zombies in the Romeroean sense. They weren’t what zombie purists would call “real” zombies. They are infected like in 28 Days Later. Which is okay. It’s not really important to the story what kind of zombie they are. The zombies are really only a motivational McGuffin.

Zombieland revels in humanity after it’s fall. It has a subversive undercurrent in a similar vein to Fight Club. It has a joyous nihilistic tone that says it’s okay to “enjoy the little things” as the world collapses around you. Discordian humor served with abandon.
Zombieland is about a geek who, faced with the end of the world, falls back on his his habitual obsessiveness and finds it a winning survival strategy. He meets another survivor and they meet some chicks, and they all move along the road to nowhere together. They’re all aware that the world is pretty much over, but they continue like people would, for no other reason than that that is what people do. They make things okay by keepin’ on. There is an unexplored implication that there are plenty of other survivors in the world, isolated though they may be, just waiting to meet up. Zombieland is ripe for a sequel, but doesn’t require it. It sets up a zombie apocalypse with people living inside of it.

And those people kill zombies.

But this isn’t a gore movie. There is some ooze and gooze, but it’s not the focus; there’s comedic zombie abuse, an incredibly well done cameo. Zombieland manages to be entertaining, while carrying it’s undercurrent of anarchism and conveys a conceptual payload without getting all preachy and boring. It manages to cut a line between fun and stupid without being annoying.

It’s funny, it’s violent, and it makes me feel good about the world. It’s all fucked up, but it’s okay to have a good time.

Zombieland on IMDB

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Before the first frame goes, my expectations are for a boundary blurring, social mores testing, artsy flick. When I see that lineup coming, I reach straight for the glassware. Soderberg, more than any other filmmaker, has a knack for using budgets to make the right films. They aren’t always superb films, but you rarely feel that a few million more would have made it any better, or that he is flaunting excess in front of you.

Roll Tape. And…. Action!

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Smooth. Shiny. Hair set tightly by a professional. Someone whose familiarity with the craft shows in its practice through gradual numbness to the performance. That’s not High Class, though. High Class is when the effortless whim floats elegantly masquerading as joy, not banality. And when, if ever, it is genuine, it can be very compelling.

After the first collection of scenes, time comes into focus. It is sometime when the economic cracks were showing in the pillars on Wall Street. Right around the time when McCain suspended his campaign to single-handedly fix it. Ahead in the polls at the time, this perceived erratic naiveté, dropped him behind, and he would never recover.

Not knowing then what we know how, it was a time of crossroads. ‘Yes, we can’ was still chanted with the fervency of someone that ‘might not’. And this dialog is everywhere in the film. At points, it gets distracting.

The lo-fi, often hand-held, camera still catches excess. Chelsea (Sasha Grey’s stretch role as a young woman trading in the carnal) specializes in providing a ‘girlfriend experience’ or GFE. It is code in the escort world for a call girl that pretends to enjoy your company, go on dates, talk with you, and admire you… for a hefty fee. Through the voyeur’s lens, we peek at these Don John’s of capitalism, purchasing their own romances. A socio-economic enclave doused in money doesn’t seem shocking today. The fact that they use their wealth to purchase the best trim they can afford, even less so.

That plot can only go so far. But, there is a lot more. A boyfriend, who is a personal trainer. He strokes fat cat egos in creepy parallel to the sex trade. There is arc and fall. Tension and toil. And, it is enough to keep the movie together for its sub 90 minute run time. And, while Ms. Grey’s acting isn’t sending agent’s scurrying to her door, it fits in with the film.

The real gambit of the film is its timing and self conscious focus on the banking crisis. Decades from now people will be watching this movie to get a sense of what the world was like and what people were thinking as the economy unraveled and John McCain and Barack Obama sat in a dead heat. Well short of preachy, this still gets a bit redundant when the ganja has you tuned in already. Even the social commentary about the servant class of prostitutes and personal trainers lacks nuance.

The one element that did work for the high mind was this purple nurple of reality. Knowing that the lead actress is portraying a character with so many similarities to her own life blurs the line. Is it exploitation for Soderberg to pluck her from the San Fernando Valley and use her sordid past to sell a movie? Is it helping or enabling? Is it respectful or degrading? Maybe these are the questions we are supposed to ask when the lights come up.

Sasha has six more films to be released this year.Her next five films will be adult films. Then she is back in indie films. The credits read ‘mini-mart clerk #2’ (I did not just make that up).

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There is a lot to say about this Charlie Kaufman bit.   It is indubitably Haute, structurally resonant with flicks like I am Not There and Mulholland Drive, with enough layers, metafictions, mixed identities and inexplicabilities to keep you busy for its whole 2+ hour run-time .

Certainly if you blazed to those two post-modern twisty-turnies, you should put Synecdote: New York on your NetFlix queue.   If you considered Being John Malkovich an uncomfortable mindfuck, I’d suggest you shy away from this one unless and until you are ready for another shot at the rabbit hole.   Reading other reviews, it is clear that the initiated aren’t the only ones exclaiming “I have no idea whats going on!”.  So at least the green brigade can rest easy that we were expecting to be a bit confused and ride with it.   This film is unabasedly about death, illness, despair, loneliness, relationship problems, metaphysics, and heartbreak (among other things), so you can be sure that there are plenty of tasty treats along the way (just in case, bring your Hawaiian Sweet Maui Onion Rings and it will be all good.)

This is not to say that this is a fun film.  Perhaps a better way to describe it is “relentless”.  Absolutely nothing makes sense and yet everything hangs together-all at the same time.  Rumor has it that it was originally crafted as a horror film, and it certainly is that – if your idea of horror is the deep existential realization of your own inevitable personal death, the deep abyss that separates each one of us, the meaninglessness of both personal endeavor and personal identity, being powerless to prevent the destruction of all that you value or the pain of being utterly rejected by someone you love.  Synecdoche isn’t “about” these things, it “is” these things, pars pro toto.  Put *that* in your pipe and smoke it.   This isn’t a film so much as it is an upgrade artifact of deep existential experiences.  There really isn’t much more I can say about it – if you want more you pretty much have to watch it yourself.

Watching yourself watching.

That said, there is just one *tiny* thread in this tapioca tapestry that I want to pull on.  Namely, its implied historicity.   One main character is shown with a birth-date of 1965 and we are introduced to her with a daughter who is between six and twelve years of age.  That pretty much puts the opening of the film somewhere around 2005 (a date that I seem to recall is validated once or twice) with the main characters around 40.  They age in what appears to be a reasonable fashion as they go through their lives somewhere around their 80′s or so.  Thus, from all appearances, the film opens in 2005 and moves into somewhere around 40-50 years into the future.

So far, so good.  Except that as you look around the environment of “2005″ you see anachronisms or oddities that are in tension with that date.  Phones and televisions seem to be from the 70′s.  Homes are oddly run-down and over-crowded in a manner more reminiscent of the Great Depression.  [I don't want to mention the character who lives in a house that is literally "on fire" and comes complete with a guy who lives in the basement.]  You could chalk this all up as surrealist non-sense, except that it is amazingly consistent.  In fact, in a world that is frequently on frappe, this bizarre timeline seems to be one consistent anchor.

2010?

That means that as you progress through the timeline of the film you are seeing, very passively and through fish-eye lenses, some sort of Charlie Kauffman sci-fi vision of the near future.  So what does it look like?   The economy in this world seems bad – whole towns seem unemployed and available to work as cast members in an increasingly all-consuming “community theater”.  You still have MacArthur Genius Grants (that seem to be more like WPA projects than “grants”) and trips to Berlin seem reasonable, but things increasingly seem to be breaking-down, with elevators on the fritz and the elderly in old-folks homes left abandoned to (fail to) fend for themselves.  Overcrowded houses, failing infrastructure and technology on retro-grade.

Which is to say that it is frighteningly realistic, embedded as it is in such an apparently surreal context.  If you forward project a deepening economic recession, peak oil, crashing governmental institutions, etc., you end up with something that is at least tolerably close to the world that is painted entirely as a passive background to  Synecdoch: New York.  This starts to connect some interesting dots.  In spite of (perhaps indeed because of) the strangeness and madness of the world that Kaufman has created, the primary emotional aftertaste of the film is its intense Truthfulness.  The surface is a whirling, swirling postmodern swing-dance, but if you sit back and allow that tide to pass over you, watching the whole thing from your peripheral vision as it were, the deep, painful, raw reality shines on through.

Relentlessly

Look at that sly devil.

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