Quick Hits

My initial plan for this three-day President's Day weekend was to load up on some movies I had missed out on in 2010 and have three days of non-stop movie marathons. I decided to be a little more productive and a little less couch potato-ish, but I did manage to see a few movies--some old, some new--this weekend, so I thought I'd write up some brief thoughts on those.

And yes, I'm hoping to get part two of "The Directors" up with my thoughts on "Raising Arizona," but more than likely that feature will gain more speed after I've moved into the new place. Lots of moving and wedding prep going on here.

Anyway, here we go:



Tango and Cash

I know this 1989 Sylvester Stallone/Kurt Russell action-comedy has its fans. But while it has its moments, I have to imagine this was the moment that the wisecracking supercop genre of the late-80s/early-90s hit its breaking point.

Tango (Stallone) and Cash (Russell) are two of LA's top cops. Tango is a sharply-dressed businessman who stays in the cop game "for the action" while Cash has the t-shirt, stubble and haircut of the K-Mart version of Martin Riggs. The two are unorthodox in their methods, playing chicken with a semi truck or crushing a perp's windpipe with a chair to get answers but, somehow, the press heralds them as heroes. It goes without saying that Tango and Cash hate each other. I'll give you five seconds to wonder whether they must overcome their differences and become friends to stay alive.

An LA drug kingpin (Jack Palance) has had enough of the two cops meddling with his "billion dollar business" and pays off the city's legal system to frame the two for murder and put them away in an only-in-the-movies prison where the leaky walls are made of stone and criminals rain flaming rolls of toilet paper down from the ceiling. Tango and Cash not only have to survive in, but escape from, this hell hole and then track down the man who put them away.

The plot is wafer thin--I can't exactly explain how the cops are transferred from their cushy federal prison to this Shawshank-esque nightmare any more than I could tell you how exactly they track down the bad guy to his compound at the end of the film. The script seems to be less concerned with plot mechanics and more about ensuring Tango and Cash have a ready supply of wisecracks at their disposal. There's not a single line in this movie that isn't matched two seconds later with a smart alec remark. Some of these, such as Tango remarking "Rambo was a pussy," are good for a chuckle. Others, such as "I think that with your IQ, you're unarmed and still very dangerous" land with a thud.

This comes down, actually, to the casting of Stallone and Russell, two actors who seem to have very little real chemistry together. Russell seems more at home as the wild card, slovenly detective and the one-liners flow a little easier from him. Stallone, asked to wear fancy glasses and suits, looks out of his league. Whereas Bruce Willis and Mel Gibson were able to deliver one-liners well enough that they felt like extensions of their characters, Stallone's wooden acting here makes it all too apparent the lines were crafted. There's no attitude or panache to the wisecracks; just the feeling that the screenwriters really wanted to have audiences leave the theater with quotes on their tongue. Aside from a funny FUBAR reference, however, it doesn't really work.

The film coasts on some fun action sequences, particularly a brutal "Lethal Weapon"-esque brawl in the prison's laundry room and a very over-the-top, but enjoyable escape from the penitentiary. The flick is definitely part of Warner Brothers' "overkill is underrated" mentality from the late 1980s and indulges in all the excess these films shared. There's a bloody fight in Cash's apartment, the prison is filled with sparking, exploding generators and the bad guy's hideout features monster trucks and halls of mirrors, which the cops destroy with their own pimped-out police RV. It's utterly trashy and ridiculous, but I'm sure every male who ponied up the dough for "The Expendables" last summer probably has a special place in their heart for this flick.

It's definitely a guilty pleasure, and it works much better when focused on the action sequences. Unfortunately, director Andrey Konchalovskiy is convinced he's making an action-comedy, and it's the latter that lands with a thud. The wise cracks hit their mark only about 50-percent of the time. Even worse, though, is the scene where Cash escapes a strip club by dressing in drag or a misunderstanding where Tango thinks Cash is having sex with his sister (Teri Hatcher).

There are slight charms to be had here, as I said. But I've met many who refer to this flick as a bona fide action classic and, I'm sorry, I just don't see it. Stallone and Russell don't have the chemistry to pull of a "Lethal Weapon" buddy comedy and it doesn't have the confidence to be as trashy and guilty as a "Last Boy Scout." It may not be totally FUBAR, but it's far from the best work these guys have done.



The Sunset Limited

I think both Tommy Lee Jones and Samuel L. Jackson are fantastic actors who too easily succumb to type-casting. Before waking up this decade and delivering some of his finest work in films like "In the Valley of Elah" and "No Country For Old Men," Jones spent nearly a decade coasting on the Laurels of his no-nonsense character from "The Fugitive," sometimes successfully ("Men In Black") sometimes woefully ("Man of the House.") After Tarantino turned him into the coolest cat in Hollywood, Jackson milked that persona for all its worth, which is how he's turned into a caricature of himself in "Snakes on a Plane" or the current Marvel films.

It's extremely refreshing to see these actors shed their crutches and deliver some of their strongest work in ages in "The Sunset Limited," an HBO adaptation of Cormac McCarthy's two-character play, directed by Jones. Featuring only the two men in one cramped apartment, the film is a powerful acting showcase that delves into some of life's deepest questions, leaving no one with easier answers.

Jones plays White, a professor who attempted to kill himself by hurling himself in front of a train. Jackson is a poor ex-con named Black who saved his life and taken the broken man up to his apartment. Black, an evangelical Christian, feels it's his calling to save White. White, an atheist, not only has no belief in God but no faith in humanity. He reasons that it's not only wrong to assume that we are our brother's keeper, he believes that the very existence of humanity continually proves that people are beyond saving. These beliefs fuel a gripping 90-minute discussion of philosophy, theology, race, culture and the things that keep us going in our darkest moments.

When adapting a one-room play for film, the tendency is to find a way to open up the story to keep the narrative moving and visually appealing. Jones, however, does the opposite and takes advantage of the restrictions McCarthy places upon the story. The apartment is small and constrictive, with outside din often wafting in from out doors. As the two men confront each other and find themselves defending and questioning their own beliefs, the apartment begins to feel smaller, trapping and cornering them so they have nowhere else to look but at the other person. It lends a sense of tension and urgency to the discussions which are, quite literally, life and death discussions.

Jackson has been buried in his cool persona for so long that it's surprising to see him here as a humble, poor ex-con. There's a warmth about Black; he's not portrayed as a lunatic who hears voices but as a man who strongly holds to his convictions and won't be deterred, no matter what you might throw at him. Sometimes he speaks softly and gently. Other times, he mocks and chides White. In one blistering scene, Black launches into a prison story and loses himself in the narrative, Jackson's voice booming and screaming in that way only he can do. It's been so long since he's been this engaged in a performance and it's riveting.

Jones, with his hang-dog face, largely plays the part of a man broken. He has nothing to believe in. He used to believe culture would be his salvation but now he watches it be destroyed by a world that is marching toward oblivion. Jones captures this brokenness perfectly, but also filters in the pride that White feels, the belief that his problems matter more because of the insights his education has offered him. In the film's final moments, he is given a dizzying monologue in which he reveals the reasons for his despair and the strength of his convictions. "The only thing I'll never give up," he says, "Is giving up."

It's a fascinating performance piece, fueled my McCarthy's pitch-perfect dialogue. The writer may be far from his comfort zone of wide vistas and unending Western landscapes in this New York apartment, but his themes of religion, despair, hope and apocalypse are all present here. McCarthy seems fascinated by the way these two belief systems clash against each other and the questions each one presents. Atheists may seem to be the most cultured and intelligent, and yet the end for White is one of cynicism and despair. For believers like Black, their faith has given them hope and a reason for living, a belief that people can be redeemed and the world made better. But faith, by definition, is not always certainty, and the film presents the dilemma of what believers face when their faith is not always rewarded and answers aren't always given to them. "The Sunset Limited" gives us two men with opposing beliefs, neither of whom are willing to back down from their convictions and what happens when those outlooks violently collide.

I found the film riveting, one of the most intelligent and profound looks at faith, unbelief and hope that I've seen in a long time. In some of the strongest work of their storied careers, Jones and Jackson knock this one out of the park.



Unstoppable

Perhaps next to the collaboration between Tim Burton and Johnny Depp, the partnership between Tony Scott and Denzel Washington is the most frustrating director-actor team-up in Hollywood.

At times, the two have given us some solid action thrillers, such as "Crimson Tide" or "Man on Fire." Other times, you get "Deja Vu." I don't know what frustrates me more--the tendency that Washington has to coast in these films, playing the same lovable curmudgeon over and over, or Scott's tendency to edit his films like a meth addict.

Their latest collaboration, "Unstoppable" is actually one of the pair's better films. Washington is definitely giving the same performance he's given Scott before, but he's balanced by Chris Pine in a strong co-starring role. Pine is a rookie train conductor tagging along with Washington's engineer on his first day of work. Washington's character has just been given his forced retirement notice and is understandably irked at having to show this young upstart the ropes.

While the two are out bickering on their route, a series of mishaps has caused a train elsewhere in Pennsylvania to start barreling down the tracks without a conductor. This train, the size of the Chrysler Building, is carrying eight cars' worth of toxic, highly combustible chemicals. And, of yeah, if it hits the bridge in the town where Pine lives, it's likely to fly off the rails and eradicate everyone there.

When I first saw the previews, I assumed it had to be a parody. After all, how much can you do with a train? It goes one direction. I actually thought this would be a "Speed 2" descent into self-parody, with ominous shots of the train heading closer and closer to town as people fumbled about what to do.

The final product, though, is actually fairly plausible (although I question of much of this is actually inspired by a true story). Scott fumbles a bit when showing how a lazy conductor loses control of the train, but he gets a great deal of suspense from shots of the train narrowly missing another train full of children or of employees speeding up alongside the locomotive trying to climb aboard. There's a pretty nifty sequence where one worker tries to be helicoptered onto the moving train which, of course, ends in disaster. After all, the train is "Unstoppable."

When he ascertains that the railroad commission intends to derail the train, Washington knows that it won't work. So he decides to catch his locomotive up to the runaway car, hitch onto it and bring it to a stop. It's crazy and dangerous, of course, but this is a Tony Scott movie, so of course it has a good shot at working.

The story moves just fast enough for us to keep from questioning much of it. It's fun, loud and flashy, but Washington and Pine are both likable enough in their roles to keep us invested. Likewise, Rosario Dawson, as a control room manager, keeps things grounded enough for us to maintain our suspension of disbelief. Scott eases up on his editing here and actually delivers some coherent action sequences.

The film relies a bit too much on the perspective of the media covering the train chase; in the film's final hour, I'd say a good 45% of the scenes are shown from the perspective of news cameras. And while I don't disagree that the media would be all over a disaster like this, the omnipresence of news choppers is a bit distracting in many of the action sequences. A romantic subplot between the Pine character and his wife is also a bit cliche.

Still, the people who see this film want to simply see Denzel stop a fast train. They won't be disappointed. "Unstoppable" ain't art, but it does give the people what they want.

Movie Review: "The King's Speech"

Just edging out fear of death, the fear of speaking in public is the world's No. 1 phobia. As Jerry Seinfeld once put it, that means for the majority of people, if they were at a funeral they'd rather be in the coffin than giving the eulogy.

Using that very relatable fear, director Tom Hooper accomplishes a remarkable thing with "The King's Speech": He makes us understand, empathize and share emotions with a man whose life should be far removed from our own understanding.

That man is King George VI (Colin Firth), who took the throne in the early days of World War II after his brother (Guy Pearce) abdicated the throne to marry a twice-divorced American woman. Being king was the farthest thing George, known to his family as "Bertie," ever wanted, even though the film suggests that he was probably the better son for the job. But in this new age, as radio takes the world by storm, kings are expected to be polished, dignified speakers. And Bertie has a problem-he's plagued by a horrible stammer that makes even normal conversation impossible.

We first see this in effect back when Bertie is just Prince Albert, freezing up in mid-speech at a sporting event. Scarred by the event, the young prince turns to a variety of doctors who offer up a number of remedies that don't work - including putting hot marbles in his mouth. Hoping to find any possible help for her husband, Bertie's wife (Helena Bonham Carter) contacts Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush), a failed Australian actor who helps those with speech defects. Logue at first offends Bertie with his refusal to treat the monarch differently than anyone else - he expects the prince (then king) to meet him at his own quarters and addresses him as friends, by first name. But the two tentatively strike up a professional relationship that turns into one of King George's closest friendships.

While "The King's Speech" is, at heart, a typical "triumph over adversity" tale, what's admirable is how ably Hooper also incorporates a touching study of a friendship and a fascinating look at history, as Germany prepares for war and circumstances maneuver Bertie to the throne. The titular speech does not simply provide a climax, but is the culmination of the various narrative threads that have been weaving in and out of the story. It comes about organically and not simply as an oratory version of the film's "Big Game." I was quite impressed how well Hooper, best known for his work with HBO's "John Adams" miniseries, sucked me in with this personal story and then taught me a thing or two about history in the process.

Most notable, however, is the showcase the film provides for Firth and Rush, who both deliver career-best performances. Portraying a character with a speech defect can be tricky, but Firth makes Bertie's stammer seem natural and creates a sympathetic character - a scared, self-conscious man who can't even read his daughters a bedtime story, let alone inspire a nation. I've never been tempted to cheer because a character completes a sentence, but Firth's climactic scene at the microphone is every bit as inspiring as Rocky's bout with Apollo Creed.

In many ways, Rush has the easier job as the quirky doctor and he does get quite a bit of humor with Lionel's eccentricities, particularly in a scene where he gets the monarch to spit out a stream of curse words to relax his speech. But there's a warmth and empathy Rush brings to the role, making Lionel not simply a good doctor, but a kind one, and a good friend to the king. Carter is also wonderful as a woman deeply concerned for and supportive of her husband.

"The King's Speech" could easily have been stilted, dry and boring. But in the hands of this cast and crew, it is a funny, inspiring and wonderful triumph that climaxes in one of the year's most uplifting endings. It is definitely worth talking about.

I would normally end this by telling you see either "True Grit" or "The King's Speech." But I know how the holidays get and, chances are, four hours away from the family may be a nice escape. So treat yourself to both of these films - they are wonderful year-end gifts.

Movie Review: "The Town"

In 2007, Ben Affleck took many by surprise with his nuanced and gritty directorial debut “Gone Baby Gone.”

The adaptation of Dennis Lehane’s best-selling novel was a tough and twisty examination of crime in a Boston neighborhood. It earned Amy Ryan a Best Supporting Actress Oscar nomination and convinced several critics that Affleck’s skill behind the camera might be strong enough to put the “Gigli” jokes to rest once and for all.

With his sophomore follow up “The Town,” Affleck may have also earned the right to have “Jersey Girl,” “Paycheck” and the Animal Crackers scene in “Armageddon” stricken from his record. Keeping his eyes on Beantown, Affleck crafts one of the most riveting crime thrillers in years and delivers one of the strongest performances of his career.

The film is set in Boston’s Charlestown neighborhood, an area known for having more bank robberies than any area in the country. Heists are a way of life to Charlestown boys, who seem to inherit it from their fathers the way others take on the family hardware store.

Doug MacRay (Affleck) is one of those boys. His father in prison for a murder-robbery, MacRay is a washed up hockey player and drug addict who now organizes robberies for an Irish crime boss (Pete Postlethwaite). As the film opens, MacRay and his crew commit a brutal bank heist, taking manager Claire (Rebecca Hall) hostage before leaving her stranded by the ocean.

Upon learning that Claire lives only four blocks from the gang, MacRay’s hot-headed partner Jem (Jeremy Renner) suggests silencing the witness. MacRay, hoping to keep the situation from turning violent, offers to follower her and see what she knows. The two strike up a relationship that has Doug beginning to reconsider his criminal ways, all while Jem tries to convince him to take on a big score and an FBI agent (Jon Hamm) pieces together the new string of robberies plaguing Boston.

This is all well-tread territory and Affleck doesn’t try to reinvent the genre. What “The Town” may lack in originality, it makes up for in reliability.

I was one of the reviewers impressed with “Gone Baby Gone,” but Affleck outdoes himself here. The film, beautifully photographed by Robert Elswit (“There Will Be Blood”) is a slick, energetic affair. The action sequences move with an electricity reminiscent of Michael Mann or William Friedkin, particularly a chase through Boston and a blistering climax inside Fenway Park.

It’s easy to crash cars, shoot guns and blow things up, but Affleck also knows how to play out the film’s quieter scenes, knowing just how long to hold a shot and deliver the suspense and emotion the moment calls for. An encounter between Doug, Claire and Jem at an outdoor bistro is fraught with tension, with the entire scene hinging on whether Claire will notice a tattoo on the back of Jem’ neck. The scene plays out with delicious suspense, thanks to both nimble directing and strong performances by Affleck, Renner and Hall.

Despite some unfortunate career choices earlier a few years back, Affleck has always had a strong screen presence, delivering solid performances in films like “Chasing Amy” and “Changing Lanes.” As Doug, Affleck ably captures the weariness of a man born into crime, raised by criminals and proceeding fatefully into the underworld. Claire provides a glimmer of goodness, intelligence and humanity into Doug’s world, forcing him to think that change might be possible. But his convict father (Chris Cooper) and Jem serve as reminders that Doug is a street kid and that leaving behind the crime-ridden Charlestown streets would not be seen as escape, but abandonment. In a way, it’s the anti-“Good Will Hunting.”

Hall is solid as Claire, and Hamm is terrific as the driven as the FBI agent on Doug’s trail whose ethics may be slimier than Doug’s. Cooper, relegated to one scene, still manages to impress and bring a gravity to the film. But it’s Renner, hot off “The Hurt Locker,” who steals the show, taking the cliché “live-wire” character and giving him a sense of misguided honor and a willingness to do anything at all to stay out of jail and keep his friends nearby. It’s a fantastic performance and Renner creates a terrifying character.

Affleck loves his hometown and, as in “Gone Baby Gone,” he makes Boston a central character in the film. His characters are defined by their settings, wearied and beaten-down by family histories that have played out in the city for years. Elswit’s photography captures Beantown in all of its glory; Boston hasn’t looked this good since “The Departed.”

The film balances its action sequences and relationships well, rarely bogging down in exposition and keeping the breakneck scenes plausible and comprehensible. Affleck allows his characters to breathe and grow without sacrificing the film’s pacing. Only in the final moments does the tone slip from his grasp, turning what should have been a hard and gritty ending into something a bit too cheesy and sentimental. As much as I love “The Shawshank Redemption,” that’s the last film I should have been thinking of at the end of “The Town.”

There’s nothing about “The Town” that hasn’t been done before. Where it succeeds, however, is in taking those familiar elements—the robber with one last job, a chance at redemption and a vicious partner—and playing them out with tension, skill and drama. You may have seen it all before, but rarely is it done this well.

Review: "Dear Zachary--A Letter to a Son About His Father"

The DVD cover for the documentary "Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father" describes it as a true crime story.

While the description is technically accurate--the film deals with the surprising twists in a murder trial--it fails to prepare viewers for the harrowing journey ahead. Alternately infuriating, touching, poignant and devastating, "Dear Zachary" is one of the most emotionally wrenching film experiences I've ever endured.

When his best friend, Dr. Andrew Bagby, was found murdered in a parking lot, filmmaker Kurt Kuenne decided to pack up his camera and travel cross-country to interview those who knew his friend. It may have been his way of coping, but Kuenne soon came upon another reason to make the film--the woman who was alleged to have shot Bagby, a jealous ex-girflriend, revealed that she was pregnant with his son. Bagby's mission, as the title states, shifted; the film would now be a testimony to a man deeply loved by friends and the only son of two caring parents; it would be the introduction to a father that young Zachary would never know.

The twists and turns the film takes--some victorious, some frustrating and some downright horrifying--could never have been foreseen by Kuenne. Like the best documentaries, the events that occur and the people involved would be deemed too unbelievable for most narrative films. And the sledgehammer viewers receive to the heart is one that couldn't be delivered by overwrought melodrama or manipulation.

On the surface, the film provides a gripping and angry look at the Newfoundland criminal justice system. Bagby's parents are told early on that the courts move slow but surely they weren't prepared for a case that would force them to be uprooted from California to Newfoundland as they waited for their son's killer to face trial and endured an arduous custody battle. What starts as being almost comical in its inefficiency turns into a portrait of a deeply-flawed court system that failed the victims' family and did much more harm than good.

As a piece of activism or true crime drama, "Dear Zachary" would be an effective work on its own. But Kuenne's film is about so much more. On a deeper level it's about the impact the death of one person has on those left behind. Kuenne grew up as a filmmaker and his best friend was always in front of the camera. In the glimpses we have of Andrew, we see a likable, funny and self-effacing young man. A touching montage describes him as the guy everybody wanted as his best friend. A former fiancee remembers him lovingly and his parents are haunted by the tragedy and challenged by a new mission--to keep Zachary out of the hands of the woman who killed his father.

Kuenne isn't a polished filmmaker. Sometimes he succumbs to visual and audio tricks to hammer home a point and other times his camera work is sloppy. While these things would normally derail a film, here they lend it poignancy. Kuenne isn't making a film to gain notice--this is a personal mission to remember his friend, to express how his life was touched by this man. When Kuenne's voice cracks and he breaks down in sobs during narration, it doesn't come off as manipulation but as genuine anguish and sorrow. I found myself not only caught up in the courtroom antics but actually mourning the death of a man I never knew...the descriptions of friends and family and the glimpses we receive of Andrew made me see him as a man I would have loved to have as a friend. Kuenne may have set out to make a film about a father but he creates a touching portrait of a man beloved by everyone.

But what elevates the film to greatness is the courage displayed by Andrew's parents, David and Kate Bagby. Early in the film we learn that the Bagby's, upon learning of the death of their son, planned on coming home and killing themselves; without their son, life was meaningless. Yet they find the courage to go on, uproot themselves to another country and fight for custody of their grandson. It's a battle filled with beautiful moments of bonding and moments filled of the darkest moments anyone could ever endure. The Bagby's could be forgiven for not wanting to appear in such a personal film. Yet they are candid, recalling their son's finest moments and describing the horror of going to identify his body. When the film reaches its darkest passages--indeed, passages where I alternately screamed at the TV and broke down in sobs--they erupt in moments of self-doubt, viscious anger and despair. But they also remain good, loving and friendly people who are deeply loved by Andrews friends and their new neighbors. What starts as a murder mystery and then devolves into a portrait of a man turns into a poem of courage and heroics by David and Kate who, in my opinion, are two of the most heroic people to ever appear on screen.

I fear that many reading this review will think they know exactly what happens in the film and think they have it pegged. They don't...even as I was on the lookout for twists and turns I never anticipated where this movie would take me, both in terms of its structure and the emotional places it asks us to accompany the Bagby's to. This is not an easy film to watch but it is one that must be seen. "Dear Zachary" is a great film.