Logan's Movie Blog

Midnight in Paris

I was pretty shocked and extremely excited to see that Allen’s newest film was playing at my local theatre. Unfortunately I’d listened to a few reviews of the film and had a few of the plot points spoiled for me. I will say it’s probably best not to know anything about the film before going into it, but even knowing what I did, I still greatly enjoyed it. Owen Wilson is Allen’s stand-in here, and he’s actually pretty good, easily the best he’s been since Life Aquatic or Royal Tenenbaums. He’s less neurotic than Allen’s leads usually are, though that’s still a major element to the character. The romanticism and sort of child-like wonder about the world (or, Paris in particular here) that are usually the complimentary traits to the neuroses are really prevelant here. The plot is very whimsical, something Allen isn’t exactly a stranger to, but here it seems so non-chalant. The acting, on top of Wilson’s great turn, is superb. I think spoiling any of the cameos would be criminal, so if you plan on seeing it, don’t look at the cast list. The way Allen film Paris is just breathtaking. As someone who’ll probably never get to walk the streets of that city I feel satisfied that I’ve seen at least a glimps of how beautiful it can be, and even how beautiful it was a century ago. The true genius of the movie though, is, of course, it’s themes. I’m not sure if this thought is limited to people that fall into the more artistic realm, but the idea that I (me, specifically) was born in the wrong era is something that has crossed my mind on any number of occasions. And to see that idea actualized on screen and to such great effect was really wondrous. Of course, the realization that maybe we all romanticize what we’ve never experienced is a kind of bitter-sweet reality, but ultimately it’s the right conclusion. The most magical elements of life- art, love, beauty, poetry-they are infinite, and to spend your life dreaming of the past is a waste of the present you’ve been given.

Vicky Christina Barcelona

Sexy isn’t the word that first comes to mind when describing a Woody Allen film. At least, not for me. But, that’s exactly what Vicky Christina Barcelona is. It’s bursting out of every frame. With a cool, suave, yet out-of-control lead performance by Javier Bardem and a neuroticly toothsome turn by Rebecca Hall and an entangled love story as only Allen can deliver, the film is equal parts hedonisitic and ascetic, while never judging one against the other. It’s interesting how Allen, very much a New Yorker, quentessentially so, is able to showcase and express ideals as European and so disconnected from what we believe and practice in the United States. It’s something that briefly shows up in Midnight in Paris as well. But, even as ridiculous as those concepts may feel, the characters keep you ingrained in the story. There’s never a point where you don’t want to see how these things are going to unfold. But, at it’s core, Vicky Christina is a love story; convoluted, foolish, irrational, altruistic and selfishly indulgent, everything love is supposed to be.

Cassandra’s Dream

Like “sexy”, Film Noir is not usually associated with Woody Allen, but it’s not entirely unfamiliar territory. Many of his movies contain elements of the genre, even the comedies. It is rare that he takes a direct approach with it, but when he does he excels at it. Cassandra’s Dream starts out relatively unassuming; the story of two brothers (played well enough by Colin Farrell and Ewan McGregor) who ultimately find themselves in over their heads in their day-to-day lives. Ian (McGregor) has met a beutiful woman and aims to impress her with his business sense and fancy cars, but it’s all a lie, he’s really just managing his father’s restaurant and borrowing cars from the garage his brother works at. Terry (Farrell) works as a mechanic and spends his spare time chasing lucky streaks and trying to keep his girlfriend unaware of his gambling problem. When they both find themselves in need of a large amount of money, Ian to finaly make himself legitimate and Terry to get himself out of a debt he can never repay, they turn to their uncle (Tom Wilkinson), who only asks one favor in return; they must kill a former employee. It’s a pretty straightforward film, never really straying from the beaten path. As with most crime-noir films it’snot really about the crime, it’s about the toll a decision like that can take on your life, the effect it has on your relationships, about the reaction of the characters, how far they’re willing to go and how they come to terms with what they’ve done. There may not be anything new to discover in it’s narrative, but a well told morality tale will always be something the world needs.

Scoop

Scoop is what most people consider “lesser” Woody Allen. I’m not really one of those people. Yes, it’s filled with rehashings of tropes and plots Allen has done far more with in infinitely better films, but I don’t think it’s fair to hold those things against this film. The plot, a college reporter on vacation gets the scoop of a lifetime from the ghost of an ace newshound, ropes a confused magician into her schemes and winds up involved with a man she suspects of murder. Like Hollywood Ending and Curse of the Jade Scorpion, Scoop is a lighthearted rendition of somewhat serious, but mostly silly material. I think Scarlett Johannson is fine here (not as great as she was in VCB, but fine) and plays well against Allen’s neurotic (what else?) magician. Hugh Jackman is easily the stand-out, if only because you never know which way his story is going, he’s just so suave, you want to believe everything he says. Ian McShane, playing the ghost, is the only real waste. I would have loved to see him and Allen switch roles, mainly just to give him more screen time. It’s a good time, a nice mystery (which falls into a trapping I tire of; it’s one you could never really solve, you’re never given all the information until the end) and has a decent amount of laughs. I suppose it’s the Woody Allen version of a Summer film. I don’t think anyone expects Tranformers 5 to change their life, and I’m not sure why you would expect every Woody Allen film to be a masterpiece.

Sweet and Lowdown

A pseudo-documentary about a fictional jazz guitarist, Emmet Ray, in the 1930s, Sweet and Lowdown is exactly what you’d expect from the title. Sean Penn puts in one of his least-obnoxious (Ironic, I think, considering that is one of the character’s biggest traits) performances as Emmet, making him simultaneously sympathetic and despicable. But, Samantha Morton absolutely steals this film, without ever speaking a word. Every time the movie, or Penn, rather, starts to reach that vanity point, Morton’s Hattie reels him back down. Yes, bio-pic’s, even fake one’s, should shine a big bright spotlight on their subjects; it helps highlight the greatness and allows the audience to spot the flaws, but it’s occasionally too much here. Even though Allen allows Ray to make some colossal errors in judgment and be a one-of-a-kind jerk, it feels a bit too buffoonish. All in all though, it’s a good movie, one that earned Oscar nominations for it’s leads. The guitar work, I should mention, is phenomenal, and makes this film a must watch for anyone who appreciates great music of any kind.

Sleeper

I guess it would be fair to say that Sleeper is Allen’s first (and only) foray into the genre of science fiction, though it lacks a lot of what most people would associate with that genre. According to the trivia for the film, Allen met with Isaac Asimov and Ben Bova to discuss the scientific feasibility of the world he’d envisioned. But, so much of that world is left unexplored, that it hardly seems like any of those discussions were transferred to the screen. Not to say that Sleeper isn’t enjoyable, quite the opposite really. The story, a man frozen in the past wakes up to find a future full of inept bureaucracy and a docile, child-like population. While I’m sure some of the finer plot points were derived from other works of sci-fi, I was amazed by how much modern movies and TV shows in the genre have borrowed from Sleeper, specifically Demolition Man, Idiocracy and Futurama. There are moments were the silliness can be too much, but it’s forgivable, seeing as this is one of his earliest works. Allen is all-around fun as Miles Monroe, playing his usual nuerotic character. I’ve stated before that I’m not the world’s biggest Diane Keaton fan, especially in her early years, but she’s mostly enjoyable here. It’s a fun, mostly funny romantic comedy.

Manhattan Murder Mystery

Another film where Allen takes on a somewhat unfamiliar genre, this time, well, it’s a murder mystery. Playing out as a sort of Nick and Nora Charles: The Elder Years, Manhattan Murder Mystery is a pretty effective entry into the cannon. Allen and Keaton (in a role I REALLY enjoyed her in) play Larry and Carol Lipton, a couple that slowly begins to suspect their neighbor Paul (a brilliant Jerry Adler) of murdering his wife. Carol, with the help of a long time friend (Alan Alda, also wonderful here) tries to piece the clues together, much to the chagrin of her husband, who has begun discussing her theories with one of his clients, author Marcia Fox (Angelica Houston, who plays smart, cool and sexy like nobodies business). I won’t spoil anything more, because there are some really great twists and turns in the story, and thought the end is a bit abrupt, the last half of the film makes for a really tense thriller. It lacks the depth of Allen’s more well regarded films, but it also abandons the silliness he likes to occasionally wallow in. It’s just a good, well made film, sometimes that’s enough.

Interiors

Interiors is the first of Allen’s films that didn’t feature him on screen in any way, and I think it’s the first film he made that was a straight drama, which may be why he isn’t in it. The story focus’ on three adult sisters and how their lives are unexpectedly changed when their father leaves their mother for a younger woman. At times it’s an interesting, somewhat frustrating look at how people do, in fact, judge the quality of their life by measuring it alongside someone else’s. The performances are solid, though occasionally droll and the direction and script are fine, but, mostly I was bored throughout, and I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe it’s because there was nothing relatable (for me) about any of the characters on screen. Maybe it’s because I went through a similar situation as a child, so watching three adults go to pieces because their parents divorced just put a sour taste in my mouth. Maybe it’s because I’d had so much fun with the previous films, the stark contrast of Interiors just turned me off. Either way, I didn’t enjoy the film much at all. It’s one I may try to revisit later in the marathon to see if my opinion changes.

I absolutely love that Woody Allen often throws little morality tales into his films, and I love it even more when the movies are pretty much morality tales outright. That’s mostly what I’m dealing with in Part Two of The Woody Allen Project, so let’s just get right to it.

You Will Meet A Tall Dark Stranger

Allen’s latest starts out fine enough, chronicling the love lives of two couples, recently divorced Alfie and Helena (Anthony Hopkins and Gemma Jones) and their daughter, Sally (Naomi Watts) and her husband Roy (Josh Brolin). It’s interesting how he approaches marriage from two different angles, one that’s fallen apart and is destined for reconciliation and one that seems to completely work only to end in tragedy. Alfie seeks comfort (and to recapture his youth) in the arms of a much younger woman, while Helena finds solace in the advice of a fortune teller, pushing her predictions on everyone around her. With their marriage drifting apart, Sally and Roy both begin eyeing other mates, while Roy struggles to finish his latest, long-awaited novel. Allen mechanically weaves through their foibles and fallacies, and even uses a narrator to try and speed along the process. The result feels a bit lazy and hastily put together. The film’s not without its merit, there are a few laughs (and one great performance by Antonio Banderas). Even when Roy meets a fitting end (don’t worry, it’s not death), I really didn’t care.

Small Time Crooks

The first half hour of Small Time Crooks is pretty funny, and occasionally hilarious. Mostly due to Elaine May, John Lovitz and Michael Rappaport. Ray (Woody Allen) and his band of dim-witted thieves decide to tunnel under a bank while Frenchy (Tracey Ullman) runs a bakery cover business above their operation. When the bakery takes off the gang decides to go legit and the movie becomes the story of what happens when white trash strikes it rich. May is the only bit of comedy that makes it to the film’s second half, and she really shines in her scenes. But, the idiots-with-money story that takes up the last hour isn’t really enough to keep you interested. Ultimately though, the message of being happy with who you are is a good one.

Broadway Danny Rose

A hapless talent agent attempts to reconcile his biggest client with his mafia-connected mistress before his big show. What he doesn’t know is that same mistress has convinced the talent to find a better agent. Easily my favorite Woody Allen film so far and one I might revisit quite often. Despite how their relationship ended, there’s no denying the chemistry between Allen and Mia Farrow here. Her too cool for the room attitude works so well with Allen’s nerdiness. And he uses the narration here to great effect. The moral of this one? Do good and good will come back to you.

Shadows and Fog

Possibly Allen’s most star studded film, Shadows and Fog is a brilliant mess. The story, which is mostly about a bookkeeper (Allen) wandering around the streets looking for a serial strangler, is all over the place. Characters are introduced haphazardly and nothing is ever really resolved. But, it works as such a brilliant metaphor for life that I fell in love with it…right up until the crazy ending. Now, I’ll admit that the metaphor didn’t really hit me until well after the credits rolled and I tried to make sense of it all, but once I got it, it just enhanced my love of it. I mentioned the cast, and everyone is exceptional, but they’re all pretty short on screen time. Here’s who shows up during the course of this 85 minute film: David Ogden Stiers, Mia Farrow, James Rebhorn, John Malkovich, Madonna, Daniel von Bargen, Donald Pleasence, Lily Tomlin, Jodie Foster, Kathy Bates, John Cusack, Andy Berman, Fred Melamad, John C. Reilly, Phillip Bosco, Kurtwood Smith, Fred Gwynne, William H. Macy, Wallace Shawn, Julie Kavner, Kenneth Mars, Richard Riehle and of course Allen himself. I guess this one isn’t so much a moral tale as it is that metaphor: we spend our lives wandering around in the fog, trying to make sense of it all, to see how we fit into the plan, stalking our own deaths. People stumble in and out of our scenes, sometimes helping us along the way and occasionally we get to return the kindness. Then there’s the end, where nothing we’ve learned makes any sense and if we’re lucky we get to join the circus as a magician’s apprentice.

One of my New Years resolutions was to actually watch MORE movies, and part of that included watching more documentaries. I usually avoid them because, well, the subject matter is too real and precious, and they can’t always be trusted. I don’t mind it when a work of fiction manipulates my emotions, but know that someone is documenting real life and editing it to their own benefit, it’s always bothered me. And, it can become sort of revisionist history if the filmmakers can’t be trusted. But, I’m sticking to my guns, so I tried to watch all the nominees for Best Documentary Feature. You’ll see I failed at one, but, hey, if it isn’t playing here, what can I do?

Gasland

This is a perfect example of what I’m talking about. Everything about this movie feels manipulative. Not false, but definitely manipulative. Basically it’s an exploration of what the drilling for natural gas has done to the water supply of the people in the surrounding areas and the dangers it represents to this nation and the world as a whole. Again, it all rings true, yes, the big bad companies are only looking out for their bottom line, yes they’re poisoning the water supply, yes it’s horrible, I hope it stops. But, it never asks the one question I wanted an answer to: WHY did these people sell their rights? I understand the first few, they just didn’t know any better. But, with just a little research, you could uncover facts that demonstrate the dangers of drilling on your land. So, all the people STILL selling to the companies? WHY? Money. Yes, when it comes down to it, they are victims, but a majority of them MADE themselves victims, and I don’t like that this issue is never addressed.

Restrepo

Documenting the 173rd Airborne in Afghanistan’s Korengal Valley, Restrepo is occasionally a tough movie to watch. It deals pretty frankly with death on the battlefield and the desire to find the meaning of it all and the violence can come swift and hard. But, it’s also a really moving account of what it really means to be brothers in arms and how bullets flying over your head can make the guy kneeling in the trenches next to you your new best friend. The reasons “Why?” are something everyone, military or civilian have wondered about, and some pursue them outright, but as Restrepo shows, there are no easy answers to that question and sometimes just knowing you aren’t alone in the quest is good enough.

Inside Job

After watching Inside Job, the only emotion I could really muster was vitriolic disgust. Going in I was definitely worried that it would be a far-Left breakdown of the global financial crisis, but by the time they get knee-deep into it, you realize that this is neither a Left, Right, Conservative, Liberal, Republican or Democrat issue, this is an issue of unchecked power. We live in a country where the government has been designed to never have too much control over any one thing. But while we argue over what the people we’ve elected should or shouldn’t do, the people who run the biggest companies in the country were robbing us blind. It’s a devastating look at the absolute chaos only a handful of people (comparatively) were able to wreak. So much so, that if it weren’t so devastating, it would be admirable.

Exit Through The Gift Shop

The absolute surprise nominee of the bunch, since the question of it’s veracity has plagued the movie almost since it debuted. The story of how a man set out to document the street art movement only to become part of it, Exit Through the Gift Shop is out-and-out fun. The zaniness of Mr. Brainwash is hysterical while still coming off as somewhat disturbing. Add to it the very dry, sarcastic tone of Banksy, and it’s just fantastic. But, there’s also a message behind the madness, though you can never be sure it’s intentional. The movie slyly asks a very interesting question: When, if ever, does it cease to be art and become just another example of crass commercialism?

Waste Land

The one I didn’t get to see. But, here’s a breakdown of the plot: At Brazil’s Jardim Gramacho, the world’s largest landfill, garbage pickers make a living scavenging among the mountains of discarded materials. Brazilian artist Vik Muniz, who uses trash to create his work, travels to the landfill to photograph the people whose livelihood is dependent on the things that others throw away.

Sounds interesting, and I plan to check it out when it hits DVD later this year.

Six years. That’s how long it took. In 2004 Mark Zuckerberg was just a guy that attended Harvard, and this year, in 2010, there was a major motion picture released about a significant portion of his life. He’s only 26 years old.

Director David Fincher jokingly called the film “The Citizen Kane of John Hughes movies.” And while the comparison might be lost on anyone under twenty or scoffed at by many a film buff, I’d say it’s pretty accurate. The title is meant to be ironic, a kid that barely has any friends comes along to redefine the very word. It’s pretty brilliant.

When they announced the “Facebook movie” film buffs issued a collective groan, but when you say a writer like Aaron Sorkin is attached to the script and land David Fincher in the director’s chair, the groan turns into a very curious “Huh?”

Fincher is a lot like Danny Boyle in that he’s constantly trying to redefine himself as a filmmaker. He pushes his own limits, he tries different genres, he never sets limits on his own creativity. And, like Boyle, sometimes he just doesn’t succeed. But, when he does, it’s a pretty amazing thing to watch.

To take a story that, essentially, is a group of people sitting around board rooms and spouting legalese at each other, and make it one of the most riveting pieces of cinema of the year takes true talent. And a script written by Aaron Sorkin. The man is a genius when it comes to dialogue. He uses words the same way a framer uses wood. Sure, the house looks lovely when it’s all painted and decorated, but it’s the beams you CAN’T see that keep the thing from crashing in on itself.

Jesse Eisenberg is getting a lot of recognition for his turn as Zuckerberg, and rightfully so. Dangerously close to Michael Cera-like territory, where he seems to just always play “that guy”, Eisenberg turns the tables and uses dry witted, too-smart-for -the-room nerdiness that people would have eventually crucified him with as a point of pride here, he completely owns it. Andrew Garfield turns in a solid supporting performance as Eduardo Saverin, Mark’s best friend turned enemy. He’s aloof enough to be empathetic and fierce enough to be believably heroic when he has to be. But, the best performance in the film belongs to Armie Hammer as the Winklevoss Twins. Something that could have easily come off as bully-ish and money grabbing, Hammer makes it not only tolerable, but easy to get behind as well.

It’s a rare thing to find a film that perfectly encapsulates the era in which it was set and filmed. Not to say there aren’t movies that don’t TRY, just that they usually fail miserably. Even rarer are films like this though, where the events we watch unfold are biographical, more or less.

I say “more or less” because of all the fuss that’s been made about Zuckerberg’s depiction in the film. If everything I’d heard going into the film was true, what I was going to see was a man out of control, obsessed with fame, fortune and sex. Played brilliantly by Jesse Eisenberg, the Zuckerberg we get is, instead, a socially awkward kid who is determined to prove to his ex-girlfriend, his peers, and to the world, that he matters. Now, I haven’t the slightest clue if that’s an accurate portrayal of Zuckerberg, but I think it nails the “new” model of man the internet has given birth to.

It has given us another reality where things like age, gender, beauty and money don’t really matter, because we are who we pretend to be. And, somehow, Facebook has legitimized this.

I’m not a ballet dancer. That’s fairly obvious, especially to anyone who’s ever seen a picture of me. So, there are things about Black Swan that I’m bound to just not understand, the least of which is why anyone would put themselves through that kind of torture. But, I do understand obsession, so I think I grasp the grander theme of it all. Still, after watching the film I was left scratching my head, muttering “I don’t get it?”

Technically, it’s a beautiful film. The dancing, to an untrained eye, is amazing, and it looks phenomenal. Aronofsky’s use of mirrors and reflective surfaces in almost every scene is intriguing, playing on the dual nature Swan Lake itself. And the score, by Clint Mansell, is brilliant. Some of the pieces are taken from Tchaikovsky outright and some are pieces of Swan Lake composed backwards and slightly distorted (something I learned, for sure, not something I actually noticed). Again, playing on the dual/mirror theme of the ballet itself.

But, I was never engaged by the film, or rather, the characters in the film. Nina (Natalie Portman) is so distant and cold that it’s hard to be empathetic towards her. Vincent Cassel’s Thomas (director of the production) never shrugs of the sleaze he’s shrouded with early on. Mila Kunis has flashes of excitement as Lily, but nothing to keep me completely interested in what she was doing or what might happen to her.

But, maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s a movie about people so far removed from reality that they can no longer function with the slightest bit of normalcy. Or, maybe it’s just a throwback to the more psychological horror films of the late Seventies. Either way, there isn’t enough here for me to praise or condemn. It’s a movie that has obviously found an audience, and I’m glad for it. Directors (and studios) should be rewarded for taking risks, for pushing the envelope. But, in the end I understood Black Swan, I just didn’t get it.

Both The Matrix and Fight Club hit theatres in 1999, making The Wachowski Brothers and David Fincher household names. Two years later, in 2001, Christopher Nolan made a name for himself with Memento and Richard Kelly released Donnie Darko to an unnoticing public. If you were inclined, you could even add M. Night Shyamalan to that list with his one-two punch of The Sixth Sense and Unbreakable in 1999 and 2000.

There are more that come to mind, but more than a decade later, these are films that people still hold up as prime examples of mind bending cinema. If these movies share only one common thread, it’s that they absolutely have the ability to make you doubt the world you find yourself in. It helps that they are expertly crafted and precisely executed by very, very talented people. Yes, once upon a time, M. Night was talented.

I remember seeing The Matrix in theatres, knowing nothing about it and sitting in the theatre absolutely transfixed. I felt exactly the same way watching Inception unfold before my eyes. Neither of them are perfect films, for sure; once you begin to understand the world they’re playing in, once you have the rules down, the expository scenes can seem to go on forever, but they are necessary evils. Besides, both the Wachowski’s and Nolan use the visual element to great effect during a good bit of the exposition, something to distract the eye while the brain is trying to understand it all.

Truthfully, though, I’ve seen Inception three times now, twice on te big screen the week it premiered, and I’m still not certain I know EXACTLY what’s going on the entire time. Don’t misunderstand me, I very much grasp the plot, I know WHY they’re doing what they’re doing, I’m just not sure HOW they’re doing it. Which, of course, is part of the fun.

The first time I watched it on DVD was with my sister. Before it started I asked her if she even knew what it was about, and like anyone who hasn’t seen it and managed to avoid the bigger plot elements, all she knew was that they could go into other people’s dreams. The first and only spoiler I gave her was that the technology behind this is never explained, only utilized, something I think Nolan was wise to leave by the wayside. The movie is already full of explanations, cramming in ten more minutes to explain the science would have been far past overkill. And besides, it’s not even remotely important, and neither is the plot really.

The most direct interpretation is, of course, that Inception is a heist film, only instead of stealing something (an idea) they have to plant something that was never there to begin with. It’s simply stated, but complex in execution. Planting an idea inside someone’s mind and making them think it was not only theirs to begin with, but something that they should act on, it’s an almost impossible task. You can lose yourself in thought for hours just trying to unravel the whys and hows (I have).

The characters are easily the driving force of the film though, not broader plot. But, they’re also my biggest problem with the film. Working as a whole they’re almost flawless, I love every bit of the team dynamic, but individually I thought some of them were kind of vapid. Two in particular, Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio) and Ariadne (Ellen Page).

First, let me say that Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Tom Hardy are the stars of the show. JGL’s Arthur gets, hands down, one of the best fight scenes in maybe the last decade. And Hardy’s Bond-gone-rogue portrayal of Eames is so fun and charismatic (not to mention his own moments of bad-assery) that I’m going back through the man’s filmography to check out his other work. But, neither character gets the amount of screen time they deserve. Most of Arther’s time is spent looking over Cobb’s shoulder (sometimes literally) and a portion of Eames’ is played by someone other than Hardy.

But, they got more time in front of the camera that Michael Caine, whose two scenes feel like a waste of talent, ditto for Pete Postlethwaite (who sadly died not too long ago). Cillian Murphy spends his scenes being duped, kidnapped and shot at, making him sympathetic, but not exactly fun to watch. But, he does get a very nice moment at the end. Ken Watanabi is fun, except when he’s spouting Yoda-like dialogue, so is Dileep Rao, and it was nice to see Lucas Haas and Tom Berenger, even if it was pretty brief. As for Marion Cotillard? Well, she’s one of those people I’d pay to see read the phonebook. She’s beautiful and warm one minute, violent and intense the next. She’s perfect.

Which brings me back to Cobb and Ariadne. I like both actors, I do. The first time I saw Ellen Page was in Hard Candy, and while she’s not done anything quite that edgy since, I think she’s extremely talented. But, she brings nothing to the character of Ariadne, and maybe that’s intentional. When she’s introduced she’s essentially a stand-in for the audience, a person who needs an explanation, so that we can almost understand what’s happening. She’s Neo. And that would be fine, except she’s never the central focus of the film (unlike Neo), and once they’ve dumped all info onto her (us), she’s pretty much relegated to standing around. She does have a great scene at the end, which I won’t spoil, but it just isn’t enough.

Then there’s DiCaprio. I’m one of the few who will admit to hating the guy in his younger years (outside of Gilbert Grape, of course) and coming 180 degrees in the last ten years or so. A lot of that has to do wit the projects he’s associated himself with, especially the directors, Scorsese in particular. Seeing him work with Nolan was definitely fun, and knowing that Nolan is the type to keep utilizing the same talent makes me hopeful that we’ll see hm in another film after he finishes his Batman trilogy. But, I just didn’t love Cobb, or even like him really. I understand him, but I never really cared about how his story (and it’s mostly his story) unfolded. Having seen Shutter Island several times before viewing Inception, I couldn’t help but feel that Cobb was DiCaprio re-hashing Teddy, just with a happier ending. The two characters are so similar, as are their arcs (through no intention of the directors I’d imagine), that I can’t help but transpose them.

All of that makes it sound as if I didn’t like Inception, which is far from true, I enjoyed it, immensely. I had my problems with the characters, but they are very interesting to watch, and while I think they do drive the movie, they aren’t the most important part of the movie. Most important are the themes, the truthof the movie. And, behind it’s semi-sci-fi, action-y character drama, Inception is about what drives us. Why do we do the things that we do? Do we push ourselves, or are we merely guided by the desires of others? The life we have, is it the one we settled for, or the one we dream about?

I’ve never seen Henry Hathaway’s 1969 adaptation of Charles Portis’ novel True Grit. Despite the fact that Rio Bravo is one of my favorite films, I’ve never been a big fan of Wayne’s. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m a child of the 90s, but the type of hero Wayne often portrayed never interested me. A squeaky clean image, someone who does what’s right, no matter the consequences; they’re noble and admirable traits, but a character that exhibits only those traits is pretty unrealistic, and usually boring. Even when he is playing somewhat flawed characters, it’s hard to separate Wayne from the image he spent a lifetime building. In fact, it’s Dean Martin’s Dude that first drew me to Rio Bravo; so much of the character lives outside of the frame. I guess that’s why I was so completely taken by Jeff Bridges’ portrayal of Rooster Cogburn.

So much of what we learn about Cogburn, much of it from his own boasting, is legend. What we see on screen is a man well past his prime, a drunk, a braggart, a fool, a coward and, yes, a hero, if only to Mattie Ross. He’s not the kind of man you look up to, but he is the kind on man that you understand, the kind of man you love inspit of his faults, or, maybe because of them.

On the other side of that you have Texas Ranger LaBoeuf, played by Matt Damon. LaBoeuf is everything Cogburn isn’t, and a few that he is. While Cogburn’s grandstanding comes off as earnest and hysterical, LaBoeuf’s is irritating and unnecessary. Something that makes for good comedy when he trades verbal jabs with Mattie, and occasionally with Rooster. But, his desire to BE that upstanding man of the law seems honest because of it. He’s that kid that grew up thinking the cowboys were always the good guys, and the very idea of Rooster Cogburn offends him.

Standing between the two men, upstaging them at every turn in fact, is Mattie Ross. Played by 14-year old Hailee Steinfeld, Mattie is an enigma wrapped in the flesh of a young girl. Stoic to a fault, fast-talking and more stubborn than Cogburn or LaBoeuf, Mattie Ross is very much a product of her environment. Consistently underestimated by everyone around, it’s her perseverance that proves to be the absolute driving force of the film.

That Josh Brolin was billed as one of the movie’s stars is a bit surprising. Tom Chaney, while a central character, only has about ten minutes of screen time. Like Cogburn, most of what we know about Cheney is word-of-mouth. A majority of which comes from LaBoeuf, who describes him as if he were whip-smart and as slippery as a snake. When Mattie protests, calling him dim-witted, LaBoeuf shrugs it off as an act and insists the man is a fox. But, in one of film’s sly-est bits of comedy, we see that Chaney probably isn’t even as smart as Mattie claims he is. You get the idea that Tom Chaney is a man that has survived solely on luck and his willingness to let others lead the way.

I’ve mentioned the comedy a few times, one of the trademarks of a Coen Bros. film, most of which is very dry and somewhat esoteric. In fact, after a friend of mine watched the movie he asked me “Is it supposed to be funny?” Having never read the book, I can’t say if that’s something the Coens brought with them or if it was intrinsic to the story to begin with. I will say that it breaks up the tension nicely, usually acting as a sort of calm before the storm.

One of the more disappointing oversights by the Oscars this year was Carter Burwell’s score here. According to the Academy, the soundtrack contained too many unoriginal pieces to qualify, and while I guess that’s understandable, it’s also baffling. A film based on a book that’s already been adapted once before can garner a ton of nominations, but a man who uses old hymn music, reconfigured as a completely effective score, is forced to bow out. Understandable, but baffling. That said, wow, this may be my favorite score of the year. There’s something completely unsettling and impressive about the way Burwell uses songs like “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms” and “What a Friend We Have in Jesus” to set the mood, and not just in the more light-hearted moments.

The other half of creating that mood is Roger Deakins cinematography. Like Burwell, Deakins is a frequent collaborater of the Coens, and as great ass all their films have looked (specifically No Country For Old Men), this might be their best in that department. Every frame is beautiful, and Deakins does an excellent job of capturing the desolation and emptiness of life in the West.

After watching True Grit I commented to another friend that movies like this were the reason I loved cinema. It’s the type of movie that draws you in. Maybe it’s not life-changing (so few movies are), but True Grit is poetry, it’s truth. And the truth, as they say, will always set you free.

There’s a scene, about thirty minutes in to The Kids Are All Right, where Jules (played by Julianne Moore) is discussing what to do with Paul’s (Mark Ruffalo) back yard. She tells him, “I’m not feeling minimal. I’m really liking more is more.” She’s talking about landscaping, but it’s a sentiment that I think encapsulates the movie pretty well.

Co-written and directed by Lisa Cholodenko, the movie is about what happens when two children, Joni and Laser, raised by a lesbian couple, Jules and Nic, seek out their sperm donor father, Paul.

The kids, played by Mia Wasikoska and Josh Hutcherson are believable. Wasikowska is far less stiff here than in Alice in Wonderland, and she has a pretty touching moment towards the end of the film that shows she can hold her own against the heavyweights. Hutcherson actually shows some real talent as well. Maybe he’ll shy away from drek like Journey to the Center of the Earth and The Vampire’s Assistant in the future.

Cholodenko does a great job of building the tension between the three parents. It’s something anyone who’s ever been on either end of a divorce would instantly recognize. Moore is spot on as the spacey, hippie-lite Jules, and Ruffalo is excellent as Paul, a sort of Fonzie for the modern age. You can really see how his “just-go-with-it, good vibes” mentality makes him a kindred spirit to Jules and at once at odds with Nic.

Which brings me to the absolute star of the film, Annette Benning. She won a Golden Globe for her portrayal as Nic, and if there’s any justice in the universe she’ll be taking home an Oscar as well. Easily the most complicated character in the film, Nic is both the hero and the villain, driving away her family while simultaneously proclaiming they’re all she wants.

The Kids Are All Right is an interesting exploration of an unconventional family, and a study in how we almost actively seek out ways to complicate our own lives.

What would you do to survive?

Whether it’s with our friends or in our own heads, that question has been bounced around a time or two in the course of our lives. It’s one most people will never have to answer. In 2003, after spending five days trapped in a canyon, Aron Ralston amputated his own arm, rappeled 65 feet down wall and hiked out out of the canyon. He was taken to safety by a helicopter six hours after severing his arm.

While that story makes for interesting segments on the news, it’s not something you’d think would make for excellent cinema. And, I guess in the hands of most filmmakers, it wouldn’t. Fortunately, Danny Boyle isn’t most filmmakers.

Boyle is the type of director who dileberately strives to be different with every film he tackles. There’s not any one thing, no trademark, that immediately comes to mind when you say “A Danny Boyle Film”. 127 Hours is as different from Slumdog Millionaire as Slumdog is from Sunshine. In a world where people aren’t just relagated to comfort zones, they seem to actively look for them, Boyle looks for opportunity to be daring and different. Sometimes he flourishes, sometimes he fails spectacularly, and sometimes he just accomplishes exactly what he sets out to do.

It helps that James Franco is along for the ride. Franco oozes charisma and charm as Aron; even when his ego gets the best of him, it’s impossible not to love the guy. He’s both self-effacing and cocky, and when he begins to lose his mind it’s those same qualities that keep you entranced by his plight. Those scenes, where we start to see Ralston reaching his wit’s end, are probably where the film is at it’s best. Boyle uses some pretty interesting techniques to convey Ralston’s unraveling.

At its core, 127 Hours is a simple story, simply told. It’s man vs. nature vs himself. It is exactly the movie you imagine it to be. Harrowing, desperate, exciting, cringe-inducing and, ultimately, hopeful.