Saturday, September 10, 2011

The Tourist: A Review

THE TOURIST

What do you get when you combine four Oscar winners in acting, directing, and screenwriting with a three-time Oscar nominee and put it all together in one of the most beautiful settings on Earth?  An unholy disaster. 

The Tourist will go down in history as perhaps one of the worst films in the careers of all concerned: a slow, dull, lifeless affair that tries too hard to be a lot of things, except a good film.

Elise (Angelina Jolie) is a beautiful mystery woman being pursued by British Agent Acheson (Paul Bettany).  She knows the whereabouts of a mysterious criminal named 'Alexander Pearce'.  Despite relentless surveillance, she saunters away to Venice.  Having been given instructions by Pearce to find someone his height and have those trailing her think it's him, she settles for mild-mannered math teacher Frank (Johnny Depp).  Soon, the befuddled Frank finds himself being passed off as Elise's husband, but there is trouble afoot. 

A mole inside Scotland Yard has informed Sebastian Shaw (Steven Berkoff) that Pearce, who stole money from him, has been spotted in Venice.  While Acheson (without Topeka or Santa Fe) knows Frank is not Pearce, Shaw and his Russian henchmen don't.  With that, they go after Frank.

Elise helps Frank escape, but Frank, now apparently in love with her, knows she's in danger, so he attempts to rescue her from Shaw, even after he is caught by Acheson.  Eventually, they make an escape and we get one walloping twist about Frank that was both easy to discern and completely idiotic.


It's one thing to know what The Tourist was going for: a frothy romantic caper full of twists, mistaken and false identities.  It's another thing to see that it never appears to decide whether to take the material seriously or play it for laughs. 

The big reason why the story never gels is I think because of two of the three credited screenwriters.  On the one hand, you have Christopher McQuarrie, the man behind The Usual Suspects and The Way of the Gun is all for action and tough gangsters.  On the other, you have Julian Fellowes: he of the Gosford Park/Downton Abbey brand of light, witty British drawing room humor and the costume lavishness of The Young Victoria

How do you reconcile gritty with frothy?  Granted, both like a good twist in their stories, but in truth, what the viewer sees in The Tourist are two differing interpretations of one story trying to create a mash up but shortchanging both views. 

Take as a textbook example of where The Tourist goes wildly wrong: the scene where the Russian henchmen find our Frank.  Earlier in the film, Frank doesn't appear nonplussed in any way that a woman he's met less than a day ago is not only introducing him as her husband at her hotel, but putting him up in her lavish suite.  In any case, she's left the room, and Frank soon finds himself under siege.  He calls the Front Desk and attempts to tell them that there are men shooting at the door, but he does so in Spanish (at one point the Italian desk clerk compliments him on his Spanish).  In desperation as the two assassins are about to blast their way into the bathroom, Frank goes out the window in his pajamas and races across the roofs of Venice, until literally landing at a fruit market.



Let's start with the Spanish business.  Frank does not appear to understand the difference between Spanish and Italian, and while that might have been funny Depp delivers his lines in such a dull, bored manner it almost appears as if he were drugged throughout The Tourist.  If your character truly does not realize he's speaking Spanish to Italians he should do it in an almost enthusiastic 'ignorant American' manner where he truly believes he's speaking Italian, not in the mumbling manner Depp adopts. 

It also makes him look dumber than he is, given he's suppose to be a math teacher you would ascribe him some intelligence, and it ends up being pointless with no payoff.  No one appears to bother in trying to correct his mistake; it would have been funnier if anyone pointed out to him in Spanish that he was speaking Spanish not Italian.  The fact that everyone he spoke Spanish to appeared not to think anything of it just made no sense. 

You try to mix the excitement of a rooftop chase with the comedic elements of a bumbler, but you never buy it.  This is just one of the many times you try to mix elements of comedy with elements of action, but nowhere in The Tourist do you get the idea that the movie is either suppose to be funny or exciting.  Instead, The Tourist just ambles along, dragging scenes where not only is nothing really happening but everyone appears to be almost bored with the proceedings.   


The boredom extends to the two stars.  Depp is the worst of the two: he is dull, lifeless, unbelievably flat; as I've stated, he appears to be drugged because his line readings are in this mumbling monotone.  In every scene in The Tourist which he is in Depp doesn't seem to be capable of expressing any emotion whatsoever.  Given he is Johnny Depp, this is flat-out impossible.  Rather, the fault for Depp's dull performance lies equally between Depp's decision to play it in a lackluster way and director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck, who allowed him to make Frank a dull and boring man along with a bit of a wimp. 

As if to counteract Depp, von Donnersmarck decided Jolie would be the glamorous femme fatale to the Nth degree.  The problem in this case was that we got endless images of Jolie looking glamorous but that was it: she was only a model, not a person, let alone a character. 

To add to the misery of The Tourist, the scenes between Jolie and Depp appeared to have nothing between them except air to misquote a line from Singin' In the Rain.  I think it is instructive to point out that The Tourist appears to want to imitate North By Northwest in the repartee between a glamorous mystery woman and a befuddled average man on a train (this may be the ONLY time I refer to Cary Grant as an 'average' man, but I digress). 

In that film, the dialogue moved fast between Grant and Eva Marie Saint, we'd already established the situation with Grant's character and understood that Marie Saint's character was involved but didn't know at that point whether she was either a helpful or harmful person to Grant.  There's a wit and a sense of humor to the train scene between Grant and Marie Saint. 

In The Tourist, Jolie and Depp deliver their dialogue in a slow, still, forced, uncomfortable, and unnatural manner.  They don't appear to be actually speaking to each other; rather, they appear to be memorizing their lines as they go along.  When trying to have an amusing and clever repartee between two characters, it helps when the delivery of the lines are fast, with one almost jumping on the other.  When they go at a glacial pace, it's going to fail. 

Here is where The Tourist commits its greatest sin: for an action/comedy, it moves so slowly that by the time we get to what is suppose to be the climatic moment, the audience has been dulled into either sleep or mind-numbing disinterest in whatever is going on.   The whole film moves so slowly that we stop believing any of this is either possible, funny, exciting, clever, fun, or interesting. 

I'd like to speak on the minor characters.  When I saw Berkoff on the screen, the first thing I said was, "Is that General Orlov from Octopussy?"  Bettany is growling around as the determined agent but with no real reason as to why he is such mad pursuit of Pearce to where he is willing to work on the case despite being told not to by his superior (Timothy Dalton, appearing in only two scenes).  Throw in Rufus Sewell in a useless and mostly mute performance, and all these elements create one of the worst films of 2010 if perhaps of all time. 

Lest I forget, the score for The Tourist comes from James Newton Howard, who is the the archenemy of good film music, the Anti-Herrmann.  It attempts to be a cross of jolly and clever, but like The Tourist itself, fails in both respects. 

Finally, the sheer absurdity of both the plot and the totally ridiculous ending sinks The Tourist: we get a "twist" ending that simply defies logic and cheats because it never gives us the audience any evidence that what we're told about Frank could possibly lead us to accept that he really was Alexander Pearce.  You can have a twist ending, but play fair: give us hints or suggestions that said twist can be plausible, not arbitrary.

The Tourist has nothing going for it: no wit, no joy, no excitement, no point.  Not even the beauty of Venice is enough to make The Tourist watchable.

DECISION: F

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Kennedy Center Honors 2011: Some Thoughts


And the losing streak continues...

I'm turning into the Peter O'Toole of predictions for the Kennedy Center Honors: so far, out of the thirty-three names I've suggested for potential Honorees, so far none have been taken.  To my mind, it's a disastrous run.  However, the KCH committee has found time to honor someone who has done more to wreck American culture than anyone else by making Americans far more self-centered than they've ever been in their history.   Well, they had to salute the person who selected the President for us.

Now, I think it would be good to go over the names of all the people I've suggested for a Kennedy Center Honor.  They are:
Group One
  • Albert Finney (actor)
  • Phillip Glass (composer)
  • Sophia Loren (actress)
  • Bob Newhart (comedian/actor)
  • Betty White (actress)
Group Two
  • Shirley Caesar (gospel singer)
  • Gene Hackman (actor)
  • Mary Tyler Moore (actress)*
  • Peter O'Toole (actor)*
  • George Strait (country singer)
Group Three
  • Dustin Hoffman (actor)**
  • David Mamet (playwright)
  • Joni Mitchell (singer/songwriter)
  • Maureen O'Hara (actress)*
  • Christopher Parkening (classical guitarist)
Group Four
  • Jane Fonda (actress)
  • Harrison Ford (actor)
  • Sidney Lumet (director)*
  • Bernadette Peters (Broadway actress/singer)
  • Carly Simon (singer/songwriter)
  • Neil Young (singer/songwriter)
Group Five
  • Michael Caine (actor)
  • Reba McEntire (country singer)
  • Loreena McKennitt (Celtic singer/songwriter)
  • R. Carlos Nakai (Native American flutist)
  • Malcolm John "Dr. John" Rebennack, Jr. (musician)
  • Eli Wallach (actor)*
GROUP SIX
  • John Adams (composer)
  • Gloria Estefan (singer/songwriter)**
  • Herbie Hancock (jazz musician)**
  • Lionel Ritchie (singer/songwriter)**
  • Maggie Smith (actress)
  • Mike Stoller (songwriter)
Since I started writing on this, only one person, director Sidney Lumet, has died.  Now, this year's Honorees are:


  • Broadway star Barbara Cook
  • Singer/Songwriter Neil Diamond
  • Cellist Yo-Yo Ma
  • Jazz Musician/Composer Sonny Rollins
  • Actress Meryl Streep
As it stands, I don't have an issue with the recipients.  I'll be honest: first, I don't know who Barbara Cook is, but it should be remembered Broadway stars aren't for the most part household names.  Still, I figure to have been a Broadway star for so long deserves some recognition.  I also sheepishly put Sonny Rollins in the "he's still alive?" category.  However, as someone who is feeling his way across the world of jazz, I celebrate any recognition of this most American of musical styles.

In regards to Ma, frankly the question was never IF but WHEN he would receive a Kennedy Center Honors.  This is the biggest no-brainer of the group.  I would like to point out that at 55, he's the youngest Honoree of the group (and a good forty years older than one of my recommendations: Eli Wallach).  It also gives me hope that soon, the Kennedy Center will honor one of my favorite musicians: guitarist Christopher Parkening.  Ma is the cellist of our time, and probably the only cellist anyone can name.

Side note: I remember a clip for a spy show called She Spies where Henry Gibson was a guest star.  He played a villain who is holding our heroines hostage, demanding to know who hired them.  I think it was star Natasha Henstridge who responds, "Yo Mamma", to which a confused Gibson replies "Yo-Yo Ma?  You mean the cellist?"  It was a funny bit, and let's face it: A.) who else would be able to get a shout-out like that, and B.) exactly how many people would get the reference?

Meryl Streep: the Actor's Actress.  She is one of the few actors who can handle accents without it sounding forced, fake, or flat-out ridiculous (Angelina Jolie and Johnny Depp and my secret love Mia Wasikowska can do likewise I think).  Normally, I'm not a fan of accents; both times I remember Brad Pitt trying to sound like anything other than what he is (a Midwesterner) were so awful: his Austrian efforts in Seven Years in Tibet and that bizarre pan-European tone for Troy to my mind were awful actor indulgences. 

However, I never question that Streep isn't Danish in Out of Africa or Australian in A Cry in the Dark or Polish in Sophie's Choice. Sure, she' had some awful films (Death Becomes Her, She-Devil, Rendition, Lions for Lambs: the last two in an effort to find the biggest "I really hate the second Bush Administration policy" script), but on the whole, she just is brilliant in nearly everything.

Finally, Neil Diamond.  Honestly, who doesn't like Sweet Caroline or feel a little jolt when they hear America? Looking over his catalog, there are many good songs, songs that would inspire respect in many circles if not for the perception of Diamond as something of a lounge act (the sparkling costumes, perhaps?).  

The remake of The Jazz Singer did not help (the soundtrack is great, the movie...well, maybe if they'd called it The Rock Singer it would have helped a little).  I don't know why he is hated in so many circles.  I don't hate him because I don't know that much about him, but perhaps this recognition will show that maybe he is a good musician who has been unfairly beaten up.

Still, while I think the recognition for the 2011 Kennedy Center Honors are quite good, I can't help feeling a bit sad that The Betty White is still not a recipient.  However, I will keep putting up suggestions, knowing that eventually, the law of averages will favor me and I'll finally get one right.

January 2018 Update: Mary Tyler Moore, Peter O'Toole, Maureen O'Hara and Eli Wallach, all worthy of recognition, have since died.  Four other recommendations have been selected: Dustin Hoffman, Gloria Estefan, Herbie Hancock, and Lionel Richie.

See: sometimes I do know a bit more than they do.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Friends With Benefits: A Review

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS

I admire Justin Timberlake, not as an actor or even as a star.  Rather, my admiration of Timberlake comes from his stubbornness and obstinate belief that he is an actor.  I even admire my fellow critics who decided that Timberlake playing a version of himself in The Social Network somehow put him on the same level as a Sinatra: a singer who can act.   I may be in the minority on this, but somehow, I think I'm the last person left who thinks that Sinatra is both a better singer and better actor than Sexy Back, and moreover, that Mr. Back will never reach the same level of brilliance as The Chairman of the Board. 

Friends With Benefits is not just a follow-up for Timberlake's "brilliant" turn in The Social Network, but also the follow-up to Mila Kunis in her authentically brilliant turn in the brilliant Black Swan.  Having already seen No Strings Attached (a film with a similar premise) Friends With Benefits tries to do the former one better: it tries to be both a romantic comedy and an attempt to mock the very conventions of a romantic comedy film it dutifully follows. 

Dylan (Timberlake) and Jamie (Kunis) have been dumped by their respective girl & boyfriends in Los Angeles and New York respectively.  Jamie, a recruiter for companies, is attempting to lure Dylan to work at GQ Magazine.  After taking a meeting, Dylan takes the job, where he meets sports editor Tommy (Woody Harrelson), who in a 'twist' is gay. 

Dylan and Jamie become friends, and one night after watching a romantic comedy, he offers Jamie a proposition: a purely sexual relationship.  She agrees, and we get plenty of booty calls, even one interrupted by Jamie's lush of a mother (Patricia Clarkson).  Eventually, Jamie attempts a real relationship with Parker (Bryan Greenberg) whom she met at a park, but like always, it doesn't work. 

Dylan takes Jamie to California to spend the Fourth of July with his family: his sister Annie (Jenna Elfman), her son Sam (Nolan Gould) and his father (Richard Jenkins).  Dad has Alzheimer's, but even he knows what these two don't: they are in love and should be together.  Dylan and Jamie's relationship is strained due to his reluctance to be in a 'relationship', and after they stop talking to each other eventually they realize he/she is The One.



I figure that there was an attempt to be clever in Friends With Benefits by having the characters point out how modern-day romantic comedies follow certain standards: the arrival of one of the lovers at a departure station (airport, railroad station) at the end, having the music cue the emotions, ending with a peppy pop song to have the audience leave feeling good.  However, the script by Keith Merryman, David Newman, and director Will Gluck (from a story by Merryman, Newman, and Harley Peyton) is almost slavishly devoted to these very conventions and even throws in a few more: the almost requisite gay best friend, the cute kid, the ill parent. 

We also have a few others we don't expect.  Dylan, we're told, had extreme difficulty doing simple math and had to get speech therapy for a stutter.  Shortly after, we see Dylan incapable of multiplying 6 x 3 (I think he came up with 98) and lapse into a stutter.  However, this situation does not appear until after it's mentioned and only the adding returns once.  It's not a good thing to introduce something late in the film then to never mention it again.  If it had come up earlier and in a consistent manner it would have been believable.  As it stands, it's just a plot contrivance.


Where Friends With Benefits goes wrong is that the casual sex comes out of nowhere: the suggestion comes only after Dylan appears to look at Jamie with lust, making his idea more a request to fill his own desires than anything else.  Also, Jamie is remarkably quick to go along with this idea; she doesn't think about it, but goes along with it rather quickly. 

Side note: I wonder if this is just male fantasy given it was written by three men.

One thing that did concern me is the Parker subplot.  One imagines that the relationship she's started, which was done in a quick series of clips and appears to be actually genuine, one expects that Parker will be a love rival to Dylan.  However, that aspect is dropped pretty quickly and unrealistically.  We know it's done because, like all romantic comedies we know our two characters are going to be together, but to introduce it only to drop it so quickly just seems like such a waste of our time.

The performances didn't break new ground.  Sexy Back is still Sexy Back, the film allowing him to show his body and his singing skills but not his actual acting.  His delivery is remarkably passive but the film does allow him to mock John Mayer, so that gives him points in my book. What is interesting is that Kunis is giving pretty much the same rapid-fire delivery to her lines that she did in That 70's Show, almost as if she's running out of air and has to get everything out before the oxygen runs out. 

The secondary characters range from the useless to the downright creepy.  Harrelson is just there almost because like most romantic comedies we have to have a gay character in there.  However, he doesn't add much if anything to Friends With Benefits: he isn't called for advice, which I understand is the requirement of the gay character.  The little boy performing magic badly adds a 'cute' factor, but his ultimate reason for being is to provide a way to have one character overhear the thoughts of the other like most romantic comedies have. 



Oddly, both parents end up being creepy though for different reasons.  Clarkson's character is a near-hopeless lush that pops in and out to bring confusion as to what Kunis' character's ancestry is (Kunis is Ukrainian).  Jenkins appears to be specializing in dying or ill characters as he gave a similar performance as a similar character in Dear John, and he appears again to exist only to give Dylan a motivation to not commit. 

However, both Dylan and his dad appear to agree that Captain Chesley Sullenberger really didn't contribute much to the "Miracle on the Hudson", and this constant Sully-bashing is not only bizarre but almost mean-spirited and unnecessary to anything going on around here, as is the appearance of snowboarder Shaun White who keeps threatening Dylan with bodily harm. 

I digress to say we even ended Friends With Benefits with a musical number courtesy of a flash mob.  Talk about using conventions of a romantic comedy. 

The only bright spot was when Jason Segel and Rashida Jones appear in the romantic movie Jamie so loves.  They were overacting, but at least they were suppose to.  In fact, it seem that there were a lot of movies being shown or referenced in Friends With Benefits: when discussing their 'special relationship', we see Bob & Ted & Carol & Alice playing on a television.  When they are having sex for the first time, we see a poster for It Happened One Night (a gold standard in rom-coms, by the way). Later on, we see On The Waterfront playing in the background.  Were they trying to show us what better films look like? 

Friends With Benefits tries to have it both ways: mocking and adhering to rom-com conventions and failing at both. Its message: that you can't have sex without encountering emotional complications, apparently shocks the characters.  Why this is a surprise to anyone I don't know.  I don't think it's a terrible film, but it isn't one that is funny or clever or worth one's time.  In short, you won't benefit from this relationship.

DECISION: D+

Sunday, September 4, 2011

And The Honorees Should Be: Part 6. Kennedy Center Honors Suggestions

I've been making suggestions as to whom should receive a Kennedy Center Honors for some time, and it's a bit discouraging to see I'm batting zero.  One of my candidates (Sidney Lumet) has died since I mentioned his name.  However, I keep naming names, hoping against hope that each individual's achievements will be recognized.  Hopefully, this year's list of honorees will not only be worthy (sorry, Madame Winfrey) but will at last take my suggestions.  With that, I present my next batch.

John Adams
Born 1947

Few American composers have been as innovative as John Adams. There aren't many composers who would tackle as subjects for operas such events as President Nixon's visit to Communist China, a terrorist attack that led to the murder of an elderly wheelchair-bound man, or the Manhattan Project.  That Adams has with Nixon in China, The Death of Klinghoffer and Doctor Atomic shows he's willing to try to tie in the most grand of music with the most contemporary subject matter.  He continues to compose not just opera but music in the contemporary classical style. 



GLORIA ESTEFAN

She was the artist that opened the doors to the Latin wave in American music.  When the Hispanic population was slowly coming to its own, it was Estefan and the Miami Sound Machine began the melding of American pop and rock with the Latin style, bringing a new, and I'd argue, American style.  Surviving a horrifying bus crash, she came back to continue making music that is influencing new generations of American-born and bred Hispanic performers.


HERBIE HANCOCK

It's a strange thing to think that the best song for 'breakdancing' was from a jazz titan, but no self-respecting breakdancer would go without having Rockit playing in the background. Of course, I bet none of the kids spinning on their heads realized that they were doing it to jazz, but this is where Hancock's greatness lies.  He has been able to bring rock and jazz together into a sound that doesn't shortchange one for the other.  Hancock still is relevant to music: from jazz to pop and rock, he's explored and melded them all on a consistent level of quality.


LIONEL RITCHIE

As one listens to Lionel Ritchie's music, one starts to truly appreciate the artistry and talent in his songs.  Throughout his forty-plus year career, his songs have set the mood for romance.  He isn't afraid of going beyond a rhythm & blues style: Stuck on You is basically a country song, as is Lady, one of Kenny Rogers' signature songs.  While he specializes in ballads, from Three Times A Lady to Hello and Penny Lover, he also can bring upbeat numbers from his Commodores' hit Brick House to Dancing on the Ceiling.  One should also remember he co-wrote the seminal charity anthem We Are The World and has an Oscar for Say You, Say Me from White Nights



MAGGIE SMITH

She's the rare actress who manages to be the character while still being Maggie Smith.  She can do drama (The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie) and comedy (California Suite), winning Oscars for both; there are film based on the classics (Othello) and camp (the original Clash of the Titans). 

I hope that she won't be remembered only for Professor McGonagall in the Harry Potter films, but her career in film, on television (where I'd argue she specializes in grande dames), and stages both British and American.  All these merits pause to reflect on just how she has never failed to give a bad performance from the goofiest projects (Sister Act) to the most serious ones (Suddenly, Last Summer and Downton Abbey on television).



MIKE STOLLER

The recent passing of Jerry Leiber now makes it impossible to honor one of the most important songwriting duos in rock and pop music.  However, we still may be able to pay honor to one half of the legendary team Leiber & Stoller.  I'd argue that he and Leiber were one of the great songwriting teams in American pop music (putting them in the same league as Lennon/McCartney, Holland-Dozier-Holland, and going further to Rogers & Hammerstein, Lerner & Lowe, or Kander & Ebb). 

What would American pop and rock music be without the blues-tinged Hound Dog, the humor of Yakety Yak, the sadness of There Goes My Baby, or the tenderness of Stand By Me?  One thing that hasn't been commented on as much as perhaps it should is that R & B music, usually but not always associated with African-Americans, had its most memorable songs written by two nice Jewish boys.  In a certain manner, Leiber & Stoller's music showed that the barriers we placed on each other were no match against a beautiful melody and strong lyrics.

Well, that's it for this edition of my Kennedy Center Honoree suggestions.  When they are officially announced, I will comment on both those who were selected and continue to make more suggestions.

January 2018 Update:  Herbie Hancock was honored in 2013, and both Estefan and Richie were honored in 2017. The others as of this writing have yet to be selected.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

Colombiana: A Review (Review #257)

COLOMBIANA

In Colombiana, you have to accept a lot of things being plausible in order to be believable.  You have to believe nine-year-old girls can do parkour over the roofs of Bogota.  You have to believe women can execute (in every meaning of the word) great hit jobs with the greatest of ease.  If you're willing to accept a lot of things that won't make sense, Colombiana may be entertaining, not great, or intelligent, but entertaining in a witless and trashy way. 

Little Cataleya (Amandla Stenberg) is your average eight-year-old child in Columbia: her parents are in the drug trade.  After her parents are murdered by Marco (Jordi Molla) by orders of Don Luis (Beto Benites) she makes a daring escape to the U.S. embassy.  Giving information to the American authorities given to her by her father, she is taken to America, but once she gets here she makes another daring escape to Chicago.  There, she knows she has an uncle, Emilio (Cliff Curtis).  Cataleya has but one goal: to be a killer, especially of Don Luis and Marco.  Her uncle, however, wants her to be a smart killer, so he convinces her to go to an expensive private school by committing a random act of violence in front of witnesses.

Moving on fifteen years later.  Cataleya (Zoe Saldana) is now a professional assassin, but with every kill she leaves tell-tale signs that the killings, twenty-three so far, are the work of the same person.  FBI Agent Ross (Lennie James) is determined to find this killer, searching for "him" after "he" manages to kill a witness held in intense lock-up.  Cataleya, however, is still set on revenge against Don Luis and Marco, and these calling cards are a way to gain publicity to draw information as to their whereabouts. 

They are actually under the protection of the CIA in New Orleans, and once they discover she is still around, Marco begins a hunt for her.  Now, though she is a professional hit-woman, she also has a tender side, having an affair with Danny (Michael Vartan), an artist who has no idea who she really is.  Eventually, Cataleya gets Ross to help her find her enemies by putting the squeeze on both him and CIA Agent Richard (Callum Blue), where the two rivals have an explosive confrontation.



Colombiana is predicated on the audience accepting a whole group of completely unbelievable things being plausible, let alone realistic.  Take just the opening: little Cataleya goes from being a little schoolgirl into the Latin American version of Hit-Girl from Kick-Ass minus the costume.   The ridiculousness of believing a little girl can move over the rooftops of Bogota like she's a stunt double on Fast Five is only the beginning of Colombiana's stretching our accepting the storyline. 

A major piece of action in the film is when we see her carrying out a hit for the first time, executing an elaborate hit job with not just pitch-perfect precision, but with every circumstance working out exactly right to aid her in this daring plan.  In order for the entire sequence to make sense, we have to believe that not only does Cataleya make absolutely no mistakes, but that she has planned the actions of everyone else who unwittingly aids her, right down to the millisecond.  This is a lot to ask of us, but the fact that Robert Mark Kamen and Luc Brisson's script keeps doing this over and over again turns Colombiana from action to parody to farce.  She soon turns into this super-assassin, never making mistakes at every turn, and it does become hard to build suspense as to whether she will succeed if everything not only goes right but also goes her way.


Some things in Colombiana go beyond not making sense to being downright insane.  Little Cataleya has only one goal: to have her uncle train her to be a killer.  Uncle Emilio doesn't have any problem training a child to be a killer, but wants her to go to school to learn to be a smart killer (I figure how to plan these exaggeratedly grand hits).  He does so by pulling out his gun out in the open street, shooting a car that passes by, horrifying bystanders, and then offering to take her shopping and for a hot dog.  No one seems to ask if Emilio is teaching her by example on how to be a dumb assassin by having witnesses or by killing or at the least assaulting a perfect stranger.

There are some things that were a little hazy in Colombiana.  For a while I thought the people she was killing were tied to Don Luis.  It took a while to figure out that these were just contract hits.  I think the confusion came from the fact that she left her mark on her victims, which made it look like she was leaving messages for her archenemies.  All these contract hits actually serve to muddle her mission in getting revenge on Marco and Don Luis, and if Colombiana had kept the focus on this rather than trying to use them to get the FBI and CIA's attention, we might have had a much better film.  Why not have Cataleya work as a mole in the FBI to find where her enemies are?  That would have been a good twist.

Director Olivier Megaton (Megaton being the most fascinating name for an action film director) can make interesting action scenes (except for the final confrontation when Cataleya lays siege to Don Luis' mansion, which was underwhelming in its excess), but when it comes to his actors, he doesn't appear to take all that much interest in development. 

Worse is Vartan, who here is blank as the lovelorn Danny, as boring a character as we've seen in movies this year (side note: he reminded me of his role in Monster-In-Law, where there he played a remarkably dim and uninteresting character).  Molla has the sneer down pat as he did in Knight and Day, but since my first memory of him was as King Phillip II in Elizabeth: The Golden Age, I'm puzzled as to how someone who is a good actor appears relegated to villains and thugs. 

I digress to say that one thing that I find incredibly irritating is having a Maori play a Colombian.  Curtis' performance wasn't good to being with: the stab at the accent being at times exaggerated and forced, and his character popping in and out to give her assignments while disapproving of the goals she's been open about since she came to America. It makes Uncle Emilio contradictory: here's the next person you've been paid to kill, but you shouldn't try to kill the people who killed your parents.

I do think Saldana is a good actress, and I congratulate her for having an action vehicle to show she can be a tough chick.  She could handle the action sequences well, and she got as much as the material allowed her to ring the few attempts at human drama out of the script.  However, one feels she deserves more and better.

Colombiana isn't a very good film given the far-fetched nature of the plot and its even more outlandish execution.  However, for being forgettable trash, if you don't think on it much you can stop and smell the cataleyas. 

DECISION: C-

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Hereafter: A Review (Review #256)


HEREAFTER

As odd as it may sound, for a film about death, Hereafter is rather depressing, and slow, and boring.  When one explores the idea of life after death, you come at it from two views: it is real or it is not.  Hereafter decides that there is something 'out there', but doesn't provide any evidence for it.

Hereafter ties three stories which I've dubbed 'London', 'Paris', and 'San Francisco'.  We start with Paris (which I should technically call Thailand, but most that storyline takes place in Paris).  Journalist Marie (Cecile de France) is vacationing in Thailand with her lover.  While shopping for gifts for his children, she happens to find herself in the Tsunami of 2004.  She dies for a moment, and in that time she experiences a strange vision: a white light with people all around, including a girl she tried to rescue. 

Shift to San Francisco.  There is George Lonegan (Matt Damon), a working-class dock worker who has the power to communicate with the dead.  This ability once made him famous but it became too much for him, so he turned his back on his powers and has become a bit of a recluse.  His brother Billy (Jay Mohr) has persuaded him to give a reading to an important client of his.  With a touch, George is able to see 'the other side' and the dead can speak through him.  George hates this ability, and it cripples him emotionally.

Now to London.  Twins Marcus and Jason (Frankie & George McLaren) live with their drug and alcohol-addicted mother Jackie (Lyndsey Marshal), but despite this they love her deeply.  Both are thrilled when she finally takes steps to get self-treatment for her addictions, but after getting her medication Jason is harassed by hooligans for the medicine and his mobile (cellular) phone.  As he tries to flee, he is hit by a van and dies.


Paris is naturally traumatized by her near-death experience.  She decides there is a story here yet to be explored, so in her leave of absence from her job as a top journalist (the Diane Sawyer of France I figure), she decides to investigate the hereafter.  San Francisco just wants to live as normal a life as possible, taking night courses and hesitantly starting a romance with fellow student Melanie (Bryce Dallas Howard) before being talked by Billy into starting up his readings.  London mopes through life, losing his brother and his mother through her rehab, wearing Jason's baseball cap and consulting all sorts of quacks to try to contact his dead brother.  Ultimately, London is saved from the London bombings of 2005.

Eventually, all three stories converge: Paris manages to publish her book and goes to the London Book Fair to promote it.  San Francisco decides he needs to get away and, being passionate about Charles Dickens, decides to go to London, where fortuitously Sir Derek Jacobi is giving a reading of Little Dorrit at the London Book Fair.   London is taken to the London Book Fair by his foster parents to see a former foster child to help him through his troubles, and there London recognizes San Francisco.  London convinces San Francisco to give him a reading, and in return he finds Paris' address for San Francisco to hook up with (apparently in every way).

Each story has a terrible tragedy within it and Peter Morgan's script will eventually tie all these stories together (it wouldn't make sense to introduce them and not have them connect somehow).  I found that Hereafter reminds me of a funeral: the tone is reverential, quiet, somber, joyless and filled with a vague hope of "a better world beyond".  Death is a serious matter, a situation where sadness takes hold.


However, Hereafter does nothing to bring comfort or a sense of hope.  It asks questions about mortality but while offering a vague answer (there is something out there where all people exist and can communicate with us) the film doesn't give the viewer any sense that this is a good thing.  We all die, Hereafter appears to say, but we exist in a vague shadow existence.

Curious that I keep using the word "vague" to describe Hereafter.  I think this has to do with the fact that the film doesn't want to take a firm stand on the issue of the afterlife: it doesn't describe life after death as the traditional view of Heaven but instead gives us some 'mystical' view of the afterlife.  It's a bit like the ancient Greek view of Hades: the dead wandering about, conscious of who they are but really having nothing to do, nowhere to go, and no hope of things getting better. 

Here's where Hereafter goes wrong.  The entire premise of the film is insulting to both believers and non-believers.  For those that don't believe, the mere idea that there is an afterlife is anathema: once you die, you die.  That's it.  Game over.  You are food for worms.  As Melanie's lover Didier (Thierry Neuvic) tells her, the light goes out.

For those that do believe, it is blasphemy to contact the dead.  Spiritualism would be rejected in every way by Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.  Therefore, while all faiths may adhere to the belief in an afterlife, they certainly wouldn't go about trying to reach those in the great beyond, and certainly not by psychics and spiritualists.  With that in mind, the entire idea of George being correct, of someone being able to contact with the dead, is likewise anathema.

In a curious side note, the times there is some sort of take on death by a religious figure, it shows that faith-based views of death are wholly unsatisfying; the minister at Jason's funeral appears himself to not believe himself in an afterlife, rushing through the service to accommodate a Sikh funeral (which makes me think the British really are slipping back to some sort of paganism, but I digress).  When Marcus goes on YouTube to listen to Islamic and Christian views of the afterlife, neither give him comfort, with the former appearing to frighten him. 


It's to Clint Eastwood's credit as a director that he is willing to tackle such heady (and heavy) subject matter.  However, it's unfortunate that it opted for a more mystical take on the subject, of this idea that we do live on, but in some sort of shadow-world, one with no hope, no sense of purpose or justice; if everyone who dies goes into this shadow-world, then Adolph Hitler and Anne Frank are sharing the same space. I figure Rob Bell would believe Hereafter is accurate since it subscribes to his view of life after death, but again I digress. 

One thing that really sunk the movie was the ending: having Paris and San Francisco get together (and suggesting via a 'vision' that there will be a romance between them) is so out of left field that it rings false.  It is almost like having to say we have to end with a version of a positive note.  It also suggests that George is not only a medium, but can see the future, which we haven't had suggested before. 

Another digression: George Lonegan can see and hear from someone's dead relatives just by merely touching them, and all I could think of was that having sex for him must have been a nightmare; since sex involves touching someone all over, he wouldn't have enjoyed sex since he would be surrounded by dead people.  Granted, I'm being facetious, but if just by touching someone brings the dead to him, just imagine when he's rolling his hands all over someone.

As befits the subject matter, almost all the performances in Hereafter are somber and morose.  Damon was unconvincing as George, perpetually whining about his 'curse', always protesting he won't do any readings but somehow always getting talked into them.  The psychic doth protest too much, I thought.

De France was also serious as the journalist who wants to be hard-headed and realistic but who begins to wonder if there is something 'out there'.  The McLaren boys are appropriately depressing as twins who lose each other to death, but whom cannot be separated by it.

Now, the opening with the tsunami was quite well done and frighteningly realistic, but once we get over the shock of that tragedy and plunge into our story of the vagueness of postmortem existence (no pun intended), Hereafter becomes a heavy, downbeat, and dull experience.

The film appears to say, don't worry: there is life after death, but it's really an unhappy existence. Most people think of life after death in hopeful terms, of knowing that we will meet those we love again. Hereafter offers a different view: not only is life meaningless and absurd, but so is life after death.  There is a nihilism in Hereafter, a somberness in it that makes watching the whole thing less a meditation of what could or is out there in the great beyond and more a case for neither living or dying.

Hereafter instead is a rather hopeless film: one that says nothing about what is attempting to address.  There is no hope despite saying that we go on after we die. In knowing that no matter where we are, we will all eventually meet and connect with the dead, Hereafter is Crash For Dead People

DECISION: D-

Monday, August 29, 2011

Snow Flower and the Secret Fan: A Review (Review #255)

SNOW FLOWER AND THE SECRET FAN

I can't help thinking that somewhere in Snow Flower and the Secret Fan, a good movie was to be found.  Where exactly it went wrong is quite simple to find: it started almost from the beginning; the film to its detriment did not trust the audience, either those who had read Lisa See's novel on which the film was based on or those who hadn't. 

This mistrust of the audience comes from the fact that Snow Flower and the Secret Fan went from one story to two stories: the actual story about Snow Flower (Gianna Jun) and Lily (Bingbing Li) in 19th Century China and the story of Sophia (Jun again) and Nina (Li again) in 21st Century Shanghai.  To make things a bit more complex, both stories are basically the same.  I'm not opposed to parallel stories per say, but here, I think it wasn't necessary and only served to make things more muddled.

Let's start with the ancient story.  Snow Flower is from a wealthy family, while Lily is from humble origins.  In 19th Century China, they had the lovely custom of foot-binding, where young girl's feet were purposely bound to shape them into a circle.  What price beauty?  Out of the shape of the feet, a matchmaker could find not only the appropriate spouse but also a laotong, a sister for life to whom one could confide the deepest secrets to the other.  The code for the laotong is cryptic writing within fans they would exchange (hence the title).

Lily's feet are perfect misshaped, so she is married to the son of a wealthy merchant.  Snow Flower's,  not so much, so it's off to the butcher's: literally, she gets married off to one.  We go through their lives as the sensitive Snow Flower grows to accept her sorry lot while the sensitive Lily empathizes for her friend as they live through tragedy after tragedy.



21st Century Shanghai has pretty much the same story (except for the foot binding, mercifully no longer considered as beautiful as say, destroying Tibetan culture).  Nina and Sophia meet in school, the former a poor Korean girl who tutors her wealthy friend.  Learning about the Chinese tradition of laotong, they decide this is perfect for them (side note: what they called laotong we now call BFF.  The more things change...).

When we first meet them, Nina has just been promoted at her financial institution to the New York office, while Sophia has fallen on hard times.  A bicycle accident puts Sophia in a coma, leaving Nina devastated.  Going to her in the hospital, she starts uncovering Sophia's muddled life.  Sophia was working on a story about two girls in 18th Century China named Lily and Snow Flower, drawing from the collection of secret fans in her family's collection, while in her own private life she was in a on-off relationship with an Australian named Arthur (Hugh Jackman). 


Snow Flower and the Secret Fan intercuts between these two stories in Angela Workman, Ron Bass, and Michael K. Ray's screenplay, and the fact that they are so similar is one of the problems for the film.  It's a bad thing because just as you become interested in one story, you shift to the other.  Furthermore, director Wayne Wang never can quite bring these two stories together.  It looks like there were two films that were sliced together to make one.

While I wouldn't be a big fan of the transitional device of having Nina read Snow Flower & Lily's story as a way of going into the past section of the film, it at least would blend the two stories together better than how they ended up.  We also have to say that the Modern story has already so much in it, particularly of how Nina makes this discovery of who Sophia was and how she ended up to where she was, that their story almost makes the Ancient story of Snow Flower and Lily almost superfluous (and I think the Ancient Story was suppose to be the center point of Snow Flower and the Secret Fan to begin with). 

The Modern story could have been interesting in itself: a discovery of where Sophia's life started going wildly different from Nina's, of how two laotongs became separated but still held on to something of their friendship, even to where Nina would continue Sophia's work on her book.  By putting in two parallel stories together, we only end up short-shifting both.

The nadir of how Wang attempted to connect the stories of Nina and Sophia and of Snow Flower and Lily was when Lily and Nina literally meet, and I do mean literally: somehow Nina ends up, ever so briefly, in Lily's dining room.  It's one thing to get the symbolism of these two women, so similar but from different worlds and times, meeting.  It's another to have it make any sense in terms of the film we're watching.



One big problem in having these two stories in one film was that the transitions kept telling us where in time we were.  I note that the screen told us the year the Ancient story began (1829) then we saw "One Year Later", "One Year Later", Two Years Later", "Six Months Later" (the last one in the Modern story only).  I kept thinking that we as the audience would know time had elapsed, so why keep telling us over and over exactly how often it elapsed. 

Still, I won't lie: I think Snow Flower and the Secret Fan has much going for it.  Both Li (as the fortunate Lily and Nina) and Jung (as the highborn yet downtrodden Snow Flower and Sophia) gave decent albeit quiet performances (even though they basically played the same characters in both stories).

I also add that Jackman didn't appear to be there as some form of stunt casting or cameo, and we not only get the bonus of seeing Jackman on screen, but also hearing him speak in his native Australian accent, sing, and sing in Mandarin! His character did appear relevant to the plot (though not a big part of it). 

A film like Snow Flower and the Secret Fan also had the bonus of being a costume picture, and here, the rich Oriental wardrobe of pre-revolutionary China are beautiful, as is Rachel Portman's gentle score. I also note Zhuobo Fang as Mrs. Liao, Sophia's stepmother.  She is in turns haughty, traditional, snobbish, and when we last see her, a bitter, broken old woman.  It was a good performance especially given that it was a very small part. 

However, Snow Flower and the Secret Fan never made a strong emotional impact about what we're suppose to believe are lifelong friends.  This I think is because the Modern story sunk the Ancient story and vice-versa:  the hopping about from one to the other only ended up sucking the life out of each other like vampires devouring each other.

If we had gotten just one story or a better blending of both, we could have had a better film.  The film did get me to think about my own friendships, so that's a plus (that, and Hugh Jackman breaking into Mandarin song).  I think the frustration comes from the fact that it could have been more, it could have been better.  This film, sadly, won't win many fans.

DECISION: D+