Gone Girl

"I thought writers hated clichés."

With his third film, Fight Club, David Fincher proved to be a master director of book adaptations, a skill he's now honed on four subsequent adaptations. In fact, fans of the director would have to agree that his only misstep since 1999 was 2002's Panic Room, a film which he basically made as a director for hire. For his sixth book adaptation, Fincher decided to tackle another recent bestseller. What makes Gone Girl so intriguing is not just the fact that he's working for the first time from a script penned by the book's author, but that he's adapting a work written by a woman, Gillian Flynn. Would this director, known for his hyper-masculine sensibilities, be able to bring to life a book so beloved by women everywhere? Read on to find out...  

On the day of their fifth wedding anniversary, Nick (Ben Affleck) and Amy (Rosamund Pike) seem to have drifted apart in irreparable ways. Rather than spend time with his wife prior to his shift at the bar they co-own, Nick spends some time alone, leaving Amy in the house by herself, the same way she spends most every day. A call from a neighbor prompts Nick to return home, only to find signs of a struggle and no sign of Amy. Two local detectives (Kim Dickens & Patrick Fugit) question Nick about the events leading up to Amy's disappearance, and Nick is soon in over his head with falsifications and half-truths, making him the prime suspect.

Nick's only confidant is his twin sister Margo (Carrie Coon), who believes Nick is innocent, but also knows that he's not being forthcoming with her. The events of the present are juxtaposed with Amy's diary entries painting a picture of marital bliss that slowly devolves into deception and fear of the man she loves so dear. As Nick tries in vain to prove his innocence, digging up any potential leads he can, including an old boyfriend (Neil Patrick Harris) whose relationship with Amy seems equally mysterious. With nowhere left to turn, Nick is forced to participate in Amy's annual tradition of sending Nick on a treasure hunt of their past year together, hoping it will reveal the clues he so desperately seeks, and eventually clear his name.

Whether you're going into the film having read the book or not, my sneaking suspicion is that most audiences will abhor this film. It holds a mirror up to the modern marriage in such a way that will disturb and linger with viewers long after it is over. Having read the book, I can appreciate the streamlining that Flynn was able to do to her story, and most especially for the humor that manages to seep into every crack of this pitch black narrative. It is incredibly well realized and pulls no punches, making for one of the more unsettling movie going experiences in some time, though I have no doubt that those who liked the book will also like the movie. It's intense when it needs to be, light when you don't think it could be, and overall a scathing indictment of the sacrifices people make to remain in a committed relationship. 

While his touch remains surprisingly light as a director, the little moments that Fincher manages to weave into the film make it unmistakably of a part with his unique mind. The second time we see Nick in the film, he's carrying the board game Mastermind under his arm, subconsciously tipping the audience in a particular direction. That he follows this with stunning revelations about Nick's overall incompetence is only further proof of the fun he's having leading you in one direction, only to strand you a moment later. One might even go so far as to mistake such trickery as contempt for the audience, but the sadistic glee with which Fincher misdirects and misleads will be immense fun for those who have read the book.

If you haven't read the book, I would only caution you not to make your mind up too early. The way that the film's first act plays out is full of all manner of chicanery, and having your heart set on something is only going to lead to heartbreak in this story. The film's second act is its strongest, with revelations coming fast and furious, and the film's pace taking on the momentum of a runaway train. The third act, however, is where the film becomes transcendent. It's going to aggravate viewers and even some fans of the book, who may not like the additions Flynn and Fincher made, but it really drives home the film's themes in all the best ways. The book's ending is intact, for those who didn't care for it, but my suspicion is that those who felt that way weren't ready to embrace such naked truths about the very nature of relationships. Never before has a bleak ending been hammered home with such joy.  

As for the performances, they are rock solid, top to bottom. This is the role that Ben Affleck was born to play; The conniving, good-looking, unappreciative dimwit who tries so hard to be a nice guy that he ends up alienating his most staunch allies. As one character remarks, it's in his marrow, and the ease with which he plays Nick gives one pause at both how naturally it comes and how well he nails it. Rosamund Pike truly lives up to the "amazing" qualifier her character's been saddled with her entire life. Simply labeling this a great performance would downgrade how absolutely perfect she is in every regard, making every facial expression, tic, gesture, and mannerism land with unrivaled authority. This is truly a "star is born" moment.

The supporting cast is equally fantastic, with Carrie Coon and Kim Dickens adding the best support by far. The biggest surprise, however, is how good Tyler Perry is in the role of Nick's high-priced attorney. As someone who's never thought much of Perry, as an actor or as a personality, I am happy to eat crow and say that he seems born to be in front of the camera. It's a thoughtful performance, every bit as calculated and disciplined as the rest of his oeuvre seems to be the opposite. It almost seems to go without saying that the work of cinematographer Jeff Cronenweth, editor Kirk Baxter, and composers Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross is top notch, but the way Fincher's creative team works together makes the film that much more incredibly to look at and listen to.  

Flynn and Fincher are a match made in heaven, if only because Flynn knows so well how to craft a story that plays into all of Fincher's strengths, and vice versa. While it's certainly the least "Fincher-esque" movie that he's made since Panic Room, it's equally satisfying to see him work so well in untested waters. The film is going to be a tough sell, and those who didn't like the book will find all of their same issues with it intact here. Those willing to hear and see harsh truths about themselves played out masterfully on the big screen, however, are going to find a film that both disturbs and entertains in equal measure, and often within the same breath.

 Gone Girl is one of the most wholly satisfying movies made in the last year, and I am literally giddy with anticipation to talk about it with others, particularly those who don't like it; And I suspect they will be legion. 

GO Rating: 4.5/5

[Photos via 

BoxOfficeMojo

]

Day 316: The Boxtrolls

"I regret so much."

Portland-based stop-motion animation house LAIKA truly has no equal in the animation world at the moment. They're not unlike Pixar was 20 years ago, taking big risks and praying they'd reap the rewards that followed from such daring choices. Sadly their films have not been the box office behemoths that virtually every other animation house in the world has produced. Rather than bend their sensibilities to more commercial prospects, however, they continue to create daring, challenging, beautifully crafted works of art that the general public will eventually catch up to in the long run.

And so it is with their latest effort, The Boxtrolls, based on Alan Snow's book Here Be Monsters, and it is their boldest work to date. With a grotesque beauty, the film tells a wholly original tale of family  and personal growth that finds time to pay homage to everything from The Wizard of Oz to Monty Python's The Meaning of Life.

Set in the fictional burg of Cheesebridge, which seems to reside in Victorian-era England, The Boxtrolls tells the story of Eggs (Isaac Hempstead Wright), a young boy snatched from his home as an infant by a group of mischievous trolls that reside in boxes. The town is lorded over by a white hat wearing aristocracy, led by the oblivious to everything but cheese Lord Portley-Rind (Jared Harris, sounding more like his father than ever). When an ambitious exterminator named Archibald Snatcher (a delightful Ben Kingsley) discovers that the boy has been taken, he makes a deal with Portley-Rind wherein he'll be invited to become a member of the aristocracy if he tracks down and eliminates all of the boxtrolls.

The boxtrolls are not what they seem to be, at least not in the narrative being fed to the town by Snatcher. As Eggs grows, he soon discovers the truth behind how he came to live with them, and Snatcher's plan to use these resourceful trolls for his own means. Now in his teens, Eggs teams up with Portley-Rind's daughter Winnie (Elle Fanning) to expose Snatcher and get his family back, but will Winnie's clueless father and the bloodthirsty townsfolk believe their version of events?

As mentioned earlier, The Boxtrolls is a gloriously grotesque film which revels in dirt, grime, and all manner of disgusting behavior. It should come as no surprise that a film set in the Victorian era refuses to shy away from the class struggles and squalid living conditions of the day, but to find such notions in a family film is every bit as revolutionary as it sounds. That the film is not sanitized for a generation of children raised on squeaky clean story lines, settings, and characters is bold enough in its own right, but to seamlessly weave social commentary into the film is nothing short of a miracle in this day and age. What LAIKA does that no other studio does is create a world in which danger to children is a very real thing, and they are forced to combat the ignorance of the adults that populate their stories.

This is what Roald Dahl, C.S. Lewis, and other titans of 20th century children's literature understood so implicitly about children. They want stories they can relate to, presented as fantasies they can cherish. I love Disney, Pixar, Ghibli, and about half of what Dreamworks does, but they give children what they want rather than what they need far too often (though Ghibli does have a better batting average than the others mentioned). Children lose themselves in worlds where they can relate the characters, but where the situations are only a half-step removed from things they may be dealing with in their own lives, like sense of self and standing up for what you believe in, and LAIKA does this with such consistency it's astonishing.

The Boxtrolls looks marvelous, and is a triumph of the form in every sense of the word. It's messy, fantastical, funny, and all of the things that a child would likely come up with on their own. From a design standpoint, it's a brilliantly realized world that feels not just lived in, but rather neglected and disrespected. It feels at times like watching children play with their toys in a messy room, and never fails to be simultaneously whimsical and authentic. The boxtrolls themselves are also a complete success from design to character, flitting about tinkering with things, making strange music, and truly working together for a greater good. The sight gags, including a recurring bit with a one-man band, are also fantastic, with enough humor aimed squarely at the adults in the audience to make it satisfying to every member of the family.

The voice work is also exceptional, with Ben Kingsley turning in one of his best performances in a career full of great ones. He delights in playing a villain, and when coupled with the garish design of his character, makes for one of the best antagonists in a long time. His trio of henchmen voiced by Richard Ayoade, Nick Frost, and Tracy Morgan are also hilarious, as is Simon Pegg in the role of a fairly pivotal character. It's a sharp script, with plenty of satire and appropriately low-brow humor that never feels pandering or lazy.

The Boxtrolls is perfect family entertainment. It will appeal to moms and dads, but most importantly, it will connect with kids in a way that so much of the disposable nonsense marketed to them could never hope to. Three films into their history, I feel comfortable calling LAIKA the most imaginative animation studio in existence, and I simply cannot wait to see what they do next. These films have an awful lot of heart, and they wear them brazenly on their sleeves. It's rare in this day and age that an animated film can succeed so completely, due to the large number of factors at play in their creation, but The Boxtrolls is another triumph, and everyone--even those without children--should see it as soon as they are able.

GO Rating: 4/5

[Photos via BoxOfficeMojo]

Day 315: This is Where I Leave You

"It's hard to see people from your past when your present is so cataclysmically screwed up."

Dysfunction is in. It's hip to be dysfunctional again, and it seems as if every film that deals with family these days more or less traffics in dysfunction. It's not interesting to deal with perfection as far as character dynamics go within a family, but lately it's been a pissing match to see who can present the most messed up family of them all, as if John Waters' Pink Flamingos has come to startling life. And so it is with the new film This is Where I Leave You, which features a cast of ace comedic talent and a script from Jonathan Tropper based on his book. The biggest question mark of all was director Shawn Levy, whose stock in trade is middle of the road fare like Night at the Museum and Date Night. Could he rise to the heights presented to him by another stellar ensemble, or would he fail them as he's failed so many great casts in the past? Read on to find out...

Judd Altman (Jason Bateman) is having a terrible run of bad luck. When the film opens, he discovers that his wife (Abigail Spencer) has been sleeping with his misogynistic radio show boss (Dax Shepard) for over a year, and to top it all off his father dies. When the Altman clan assembles for his funeral, their mother (Jane Fonda) tells them that their atheist father's dying wish was for his family to sit shiva for him, a Jewish tradition where a family mourns together for a full week. Judd's sister Wendy (Tina Fey) is the only one who knows about Judd's marital strife, but is dealing with her own distant husband (Aaron Lazar) and two small children, one of whom is taking potty training to new extremes. The oldest brother Paul (Corey Stoll) is knee deep in trying to get his wife (Kathryn Hahn) pregnant, and the youngest brother Phillip (Adam Driver) has just sprung his newest, and much older girlfriend (Connie Britton) on the family.

As the week wears on, long simmering tensions between them all are brought to the surface. Judd rekindles his relationship with an old flame (Rose Byrne) just as his wife reappears to share some shocking news with him, and the family begins to suspect that their mother is not being upfront with them about certain developments that have occurred in the last years of their father's life. But through it all, blood is thicker than water, lessons will be learned, tears will be shed, laughs will be had, etc. etc. etc.

The most immediate issue with This is Where I Leave You is that it seems perfectly content to not break any new ground. There's not a beat in the entire film that hasn't been done better elsewhere. Trying to condense a sprawling, multi-character book into a 103 minute film is always a challenge, and the film feels like it's trying to keep as much in as possible, at the expense of not really developing more than a handful of the characters. It becomes tedious at times, particularly in the bloated third act, and considering how far ahead every development is projected, it feels like a long slog toward a foregone conclusion. By unleashing a torrent of plot twists, seemingly one for every character in the film, it begins to feel like the writer and director are doing everything they can to maintain the audience's interest.

The real sin is that they didn't have to do any of that. With a cast this amazing, they could have simply let them loose and allow them to make up for the shortcomings behind the camera. Instead, one begins to feel for a cast given very little to work with, doing their best to not let the flop sweat show. The film does have some terrific moments, and watching comedic geniuses like Bateman and Fey go toe to toe with stellar actors like Fonda and Stoll is worth the price of admission alone, but one can't help but wish that they were given just a little bit more to work with.

The actors are more or less done in by their underdeveloped characters, and the lack of closure with virtually every character except Bateman's weakens the whole enterprise. Bateman is terrific, as to be expected, and his chemistry with Fey is the real highlight of the movie. Stoll does the best he can with the weakest of the main characters, and Byrne is sadly saddled with a more mature version of the ubiquitous manic pixie dream girl. Driver is perhaps the biggest revelation among the cast, showing that he works incredibly well in ensembles pieces, and always managing to land truthful moments with both humor and gravity. The rest of the cast is fantastic as well, adding up to one of the best ensembles in recent memory.

The main fault of the film is the direction. Levy is just not a capable director, and his insistence on constantly hammering in visual metaphors where they're not needed undermines the brilliant work of his cast. That's his m.o. however, casting very capable actors and then leaving them to fend themselves while he stages some hackneyed, first year film student set-up underscored with alt rock. It's a real shame because a better director would have really brought this film to life, and could have probably avoided some of the more rote aspects of the screenplay.

Overall, This is Where I Leave You rings of truth while still feeling wholly dishonest. It's incredibly well acted, and the script has some moments of verbal pizzazz, but it feels like a ground rule double when it could have been a home run with just a little more effort. It will land with a variety of audience members, most of whom can relate to the dysfunction on display, but it's simultaneously weighed down by contrivance and well-worn tropes. It's basically a funnier version of August: Osage County, and if that sounds appealing to you, then by all means, enjoy. The rest of us will just sit here quietly, hoping that someday soon, dysfunction will be presented not for dysfunction's sake, but because it's grounded in a universal truth about all of us.

GO Rating: 3/5

[Photos via BoxOfficeMojo]

Day 314: The Skeleton Twins

"Well at least she's sending us the light."

Arguably the two best, most versatile talents to come out of the post-Will Ferrell SNL era are Bill Hader and Kristen Wiig. They are perhaps the best one-two combination since Bill Murray and Gilda Radner, and their rapport with one another is almost preternatural. That made the prospect of seeing these two dive into heady subject matter in their first starring vehicle together since leaving the show all the more appealing. The Skeleton Twins is an interesting little film that will certainly afford an audience who has only seen these two goof around with one another to see them in a different light. 

 Maggie (Wiig) and Milo (Hader) are twins that have not seen each other in a decade. When the film opens, Maggie is preparing to off herself by consuming a large quantity of pills, but her suicide attempt is delayed when she receives word that Milo has just been hospitalized for also attempting to take his own life. Maggie invites Milo to come and stay with her in their old hometown of Nyack, NY, where Maggie now lives with her gregarious husband Lance (Luke Wilson). Milo reconnects with an old flame (Ty Burrell), though their past together remains shrouded in mystery for most of the film, and Milo also manages to get Maggie to open up to him about her various extramarital dalliances. But the secrets Milo continues to keep from Maggie, coupled with the meddling he begins doing in her life with Lance may doom their renewed relationship. 

Perhaps the most successful thing about The Skeleton Twins is the fact that it never shies away from being morose. It deftly balances comedy and tragedy, but always errs on the side of the latter, and the core quartet of actors is perfectly up to the challenge. Anyone doubting Bill Hader's acting chops will be pleased to see that he is as capable at drama as he is at comedy. He plays perhaps the most honest and realistic homosexual character in a film in a very long time, and manages to wring ethos out of every line delivery and mannerism. It is a gift of a role for this seriously talented actor, and one that will hopefully land him more thought provoking work in the future. 

Wiig also does very good work, though her character is harder to empathize with, making it the more challenging role simply by virtue of that fact. Their scenes together are the best in the film, and whenever Wiig is onscreen without Hader, she seems to struggle to find an identity. This is basically the long-winded way of saying that she's been better in other things. Wilson is terrific, and proves how under-utilized he is these days, and Burrell puts on a master class of playing a manipulative and selfish man that has yet to learn any lessons from his mistakes. 

Where the film flounders is in the heavy-handed symbolism laded on with reckless abandon by sophomore director Craig Johnson. His use of water as a constant symbol of isolation and despair is played out even before the opening title, and it only gets worse from there. The character work being done by these four terrific actors is constantly undermined by a director trying to showcase his visual flair, and it frankly bogs the entire film down. He is certainly done no favors by the cliche heavy script he penned with Black Swan scribe Mark Heyman, but it feels as if the finished script was a leaden rewrite of another, better, tighter script. It also bears several of the worst hallmarks of its producing team, Mark and Jay Duplass, whose mumblecore movies traffic in maudlin sentiment.  

The film thankfully doesn't overstay its welcome, clocking in just north of ninety minutes, but it ultimately feels like a great character study weighed down by a director looking to put together a sizzle reel of flashy directorial tricks. It's not a bad movie, but it certainly has the air of having been hijacked by a director looking to show off. If anything, it's a major league coming out party for Bill Hader, who does the best work of his still young career. It's not a film for everyone, but it's filled with enough small moments that are likely to land for audience members from all walks of life. It's just disappointing to see such great work being undercut by a director and producers who tried to bend it to their will. There's a great movie buried in here somewhere. If only they had hired a director who could've mined that greatness rather than obscuring it. 

GO Rating: 2.5/5

[Photos via BoxOfficeMojo]

Day 313: The Drop

"We're dead already... we're just walkin' around."

Very few writers traffic in low level crime and the effect it has on a neighborhood quite like Dennis Lehane. Whether it's in his most well known works like Mystic River and Gone Baby Gone, or in his short stories, Lehane is one of the best at capturing the never-ending cycle of crime that grabs people when they're young and never lets them go. His latest work to hit the screen, The Drop, is based on a short story titled Animal Rescue, and tells the story of a Brooklyn drop bar, a place criminals use to store large sums of money acquired through various unscrupulous means. 

Cousin Marv's is one such haunt, named after Marv (James Gandolfini), a former big time hood who is now simply an errand boy for Chechen mobsters. Marv's literal cousin, Bob (Tom Hardy) tends the bar, and also tends to himself, always keeping his eyes and his head down while seemingly never ceasing to watch everything going on around him. On his way home from work one night, Bob discovers a pit bull puppy who was beaten and left to die in a garbage can outside the home of a woman named Nadia (Noomi Rapace). Seeing in this puppy a kindred spirit, Bob nurses it back to health with Nadia's help, and the two form a tenuous relationship built on secrecy.

Back at work, the bar is robbed one night by two masked thugs, and the Chechen (Michael Aronov) whose father runs the bar puts Bob and Marv on notice to recover the five grand stolen from them. It isn't long before worlds begin to collide, and all of the various crimes perpetrated within the opening minutes of the film show their connection to one another. This is the film's greatest strength, tying all of these circumstances together and keeping the audience in the dark as to who has the upper hand and why. It's an interesting concept that never fails to keep the audience wondering what the motivations of various characters are, but it's also unfortunately the kind of film that requires a somewhat longwinded explanation in the third act. 

This is where the film's strengths suddenly become liabilities, which is unfortunate considering how well the first two acts play out. Hardy never fails to make Bob an interesting character, whose stoic demeanor conceals the fact that he's either a half-wit or an exceedingly dangerous individual, or perhaps some combination of the two. It's another fascinating performance by an actor who relishes the chance to play such a character, and Hardy delivers as always.

If The Drop is not wholly successful as a film, it's certainly not for lack of trying. It's impressive to see such verisimilitude in a film directed by a Belgian, Michaël R. Roskam, and populated with non-American actors playing Brooklynites (Hardy, Rapace, and the excellent Matthias Schoenaerts as the pit bull's former owner). It speaks to the universality of the themes at play, and thematically this is an incredibly successful film. Where it falls short is in the crucial elements of storytelling, from its sluggish pace to the multiple endings required to tie up every possible loose end. 

As a swan song for James Gandolfini, it's simultaneously comforting and a bit disappointing. Comforting because it's the kind of role that's right in his wheelhouse, allowing him to wield a sideways glance like a cudgel, but also disappointing because it is so close to the kind of thing he's done better elsewhere. However, to think of this film without a towering presence such as his would likely downgrade it substantially, which speaks volumes about what it is that he brings to the film. 

The Drop is a very good film that suffers from some contrivances and poor pacing, and much like Mystic River, would have been a better film had it ended five minutes sooner than it did. As a truthful look at the interconnectedness of various criminal elements, all of whom think they're operating independent of one another, it's endlessly fascinating and incredibly well-crafted. As entertainment, however, it falls short in several areas. Thank goodness Tom Hardy is as good an actor as he is, and the rest of the ensemble is just as accomplished, because they rescue the film from its own shortcomings. Ultimately it's a very good movie that can't help but elude greatness. 

Day 312: The Giver

"I like this map. Don't mess it up, I'll be wanting it back."

Published in 1993, Lois Lowry's book The Giver was a revolutionary if slim tale of a dystopian future where the inhabitants of a futuristic society lived in relative peace due to the removal of emotion from their lives. In 2014, every hack writer imaginable is creating dystopian future young adult books, so what once seemed like a novel idea feels like a Johnny come lately variation on a theme teens have been spoon fed for years. Nevertheless, these movies are a license to print money (for the most part), so of course now there's a movie version of The Giver, whether we wanted one or not. Could it buck the trend and actually be worth a damn, or would it succumb to the very notion of sameness which the book condemns at length? Read on to find out...

Jonas (Brenton Thwaites) lives in a community where everything seems perfect. There is no death, no pain, no emotion, and everyone's destiny is decided by a council of elders headed by the Chief Elder (Meryl Streep). When Jonas turns 18, he and his friends Fiona (Odeya Rush) and Asher (Cameron Monaghan) are given their roles in adult society. Jonas is selected to be the new Receiver of Memories, a position currently held by a wily old coot called The Giver (Jeff Bridges). His destiny is to be the one person in the society to carry the memories of all of human existence so that when the elders reach an impasse or need help making a decision, they can consult with him for guidance. 

It isn't long before Jonas begins to see his black and white world in color, and begins to slowly absorb emotions. There is a horrible truth about the society, however, that The Giver tries to keep secret from Jonas, but when it is revealed to him, Jonas decides that it is time to act. No longer content to let his friends and family be guided by an emotionless existence, Jonas makes a decision to try and free the people of his community from the bonds of oppression.

Admission time. I haven't read The Giver. My 8-year old daughter Clementine briefed me on all the pertinent information beforehand, but I just couldn't bring myself to read the book, hoping to let the movie introduce me to the world, and perhaps entice me to read the book afterwards. This is not a review of the book, so please don't accuse me of not knowing something that may have been fleshed out on the page. Also, at 35, I'm hardly the target audience for this film, which is another thing to bear in mind as you read my thoughts on it. I think that there are a lot of interesting ideas at play in The Giver, but none of them are given the time or space to be explored. It feels not unlike the Cliffs Notes version of the book, throwing ideas at you without giving you time to absorb them. Hell, at 95 minutes, there's not really time to absorb anything. The film is well-paced, but it's like saying you've watched an entire season's worth of a television series when in actuality you've only watched the "Previously on..." recaps that precede every episode.

The concept is interesting, but not explored in any meaningful way, and the film is well made but not very interesting. It's an odd dichotomy because it works fairly well as entertainment, but fails miserably as a parable exploring the ramifications of utopia. It also fails as art because it has a horrible digital sheen to it that just reeks of artificiality, and not in an intentional way as a commentary on the falseness of this perfect society, but rather as a film so tampered with in post-production, it feels and looks not unlike a student film shot with an HD camera. The word that kept running through my head throughout the entirety of the film was lame. It was just a lame movie, preaching a gospel of humanity while demonstrating a value system more in line with being a homogenized product, tailor made to reach as wide an audience as possible while failing to connect with any audience in a meaningful way. 

It was also a hopelessly convoluted film, one of those worlds where everything has a label that's six words long when two would suffice. Needlessly wordy terms like "Food Delivery People," "House of the Old," and "The Ceremony of Release" are bandied about as some sort of statement on human institutions, but yet again, nothing interesting is done with the concept so it feels like unnecessary fan service. Also, since this is a movie aimed at teens, that means they've got to up the ages a bit, so Jonas can't be twelve like he was in the book because god forbid pre-teens have any sort of decent role models. Instead he's got to be a hunk that all the teenage girls and their creepy moms can go gaga over. It's just further proof that movies are made by committee, and no longer the work of craftsmen and women that care about story and character above all else.

Jeff Bridges is perfectly fine in the title role, though his choice to deliver all of his lines like a stroke victim was horribly distracting. Meryl Streep also does good work, though even she's not immune to this recent trend of taking a respected actress and slapping a goofy wig on them so we know that this is science fiction (for other examples of this see Glenn Close in Guardians of the Galaxy and Julianne Moore in the upcoming Hunger Games movies). The teen actors don't fare as well, falling victim to their robotic original nature and overcompensating for it when they discover their emotions. I would also be remiss if I didn't mention Katie Holmes as Jonas' mother. Holmes' time away from acting did little to help her grow in any way, and she still feels like the lovesick teen she played fifteen years ago on Dawson's Creek.

The Giver isn't a bad movie, it's just a horribly lame one. It seems to exist primarily for fans of the book, who are also the most likely to up in arms over the artistic license taken by the filmmakers, particularly in the action packed third act. It's a moderately well directed film with a garbage script and some decent performances, but there's really no reason for it to exist, which is one of the worst sins a film can commit. I'll still read the book because I think that there's value in its message, but I would hope that kids the world over will choose to do the same because, frankly, they deserve better, more edifying entertainment than this film provides them with. 

GO Rating: 2/5

[Photos via BoxOfficeMojo]

In Memoriam: Robin Williams

"You're only given one little spark of madness. You mustn't lose it."

The past 48 hours have been some of the darkest of my entire life. I've now lived through the divorce of my parents, my own divorce, my children moving away to the other side of the country, and an awful lot of misery in my 35 short years on this planet. Granted there have been a lot of good times and good memories, but it's truly hard to put into words how deeply and irrevocably the news that Robin Williams had taken his own life hit me. I didn't start out to write a piece about myself, but I realized while researching this piece how ingrained in my life this man truly was. I didn't know Robin personally, but as anyone who prides themselves on their sense of humor knows, there's something truly amazing about encountering a person that you know in your heart of hearts is funnier than you are. My sense of the world was shaped by the people that made me laugh, and there are sadly very few people left in this wicked world that made me laugh as much as Robin did. 

Like many people of my generation, I was raised on television and movies, and Mork and Mindy was the first time I ever laid eyes on this manic bolt of energy that was simply unlike anyone else I'd ever seen. When I was told that this was the same man that played Popeye in that musical I loved so much, I knew I was a fan before I even knew what being a fan meant. I wanted to consume everything he did. It led me down some strange roads, to movies I couldn't appreciate at such a young age like Moscow on the Hudson and The World According to Garp, but I just wanted more and more and more of whatever it was that he possessed. The fact that there was a one inch thick piece of glass separating me from greatness was enough to fuel the fire of passion, creativity, and humor that dwelled inside me. 

Like all funny men, Robin sought to be something more. He sought to touch people absent the laughs, and he really began to pursue that with his late 80s and early 90s run that is by far the most fertile period in his acting career. His work in films like Good Morning Vietnam, Dead Poets Society, and The Fisher King, all of which unsurprisingly earned him Academy Award nominations, showed that with the right combination of character and actor, we could see real magic happen right before our eyes. This was someone to aspire to, to model a career on, to emulate, to imitate, to lionize, and idolize.

The 90s brought new frontiers for him to conquer. He basically turned voice work into a cottage industry with his performance as the Genie in Disney's Aladdin, and his work in The Birdcage gave all of us pause when he so effortlessly demonstrated how a brilliant comedian could play the straight man to utter perfection. Yes, there are films I'm purposefully ignoring, whether they be ridiculous comedies, or maudlin dramas, or even a dreadful combination of both, but when the work was good, it was second to none and that's what we all remember and strive towards. He finally won an Oscar for his wonderfully understated work in Good Will Hunting, and moved into the new century with a renewed sense of life and accomplishment. 

The three films he did in 2002 will be studied years from now as incredible contrasts in how an actor can simultaneously play on your expectations of him and brilliantly subvert them. One Hour Photo, Death to Smoochy, and Insomnia is the kind of triple threat an actor would kill for, and Robin got to do them all in one calendar year. His work would continue steadily over the next decade, though with varying degrees of success, yet his career was such that you always knew no matter how weak the work he might be doing today was, the promise of something amazing always lay right around the corner. In 2009, his longtime friend Bobcat Goldthwait gifted him with the role of a lifetime in World's Greatest Dad, a film whose eerily prescient subject matter makes it all the more difficult to even think about in light of his death.  

By all accounts, Robin was a selfless man in his personal life, always ready to lend a helping hand or a laugh to those in need. He made many an unheralded, unannounced, and spotlight free trip to entertain our troops in the Middle East, a passion that was ignited in him after his work on Good Morning Vietnam. Stories abound of his trips to comedy clubs to meet the owners, sign autographs, take pictures, and spend time talking to everyday folks. The fact that you've heard so many stories of people having met Robin in the last few days is a testament to how much he truly did care about those whose life and work were altered by him. 

All of this is leading me inexorably towards a discussion about his death. Robin took his own life as a result of a lifelong battle with depression. The last thing that anyone should do in this situation is rush to judge or label his death in any way other than to say what it was plainly a desperate act by a man who felt he had no other options. There is something inherently ironic about a man who brought so much joy to others being tortured by personal demons which finally got the better of him, but anyone that thinks that way doesn't understand what true, bone-deep depression does to a human being. Perhaps the reason it hit me so hard is because it's something I've also struggled with my entire adult life. 

It's so easy for someone to offer platitudes like "laugher is the best medicine" or "tomorrow is another day" to a person that wrestles with depression. It's difficult, nigh impossible, for someone that doesn't really know what depression is to understand how harmful such statements can be. We live in a culture that prides itself on bucking up and laughing off adversity, when in actuality, that's shit advice. Depression is a beast that can't be slain. It can be controlled, but it never goes away. It lays in wait for you to convince yourself that tomorrow really is another day and then it grabs a hold of you, and in many cases gets the best of you. Our society is so quick to write addiction and mental illness off as made-up problems, ones that aren't on a par with diseases such as cancer. The real shame in all of this is that if people would take the time to see the lateral nature of such problems, we might actually begin to find a way to eradicate them together, instead of working within bubbles where our own problems will forever trump those of another. 

My heart breaks to know that the same thing I struggle with every single day of my life took away a fellow soldier in our never-ending battle against it. Robin Williams was a genius, but at the end of the day, he was no more immune to this problem than any of the countless faceless others that succumb to its vise-like grip everyday in this world. The day that we stop casting aspersions and work together to understand one another as intimately as we think we do is the day we might see problems like this come to an end. If you think that this outrageously funny and talented man made a selfish choice by taking his own life, you are 100% a part of the problem. 

If Robin's death does nothing else for all of us, I hope that it teaches us to listen, to care for one another in such a way that we'll always be there for one another. In a day and age where your friends are reduced to nothing more than a number on a social media website, it couldn't hurt to actually try and give a shit about each other. Robin's life and work united us all in fits of laughter and tears of joy. I can only hope that his tragic death with similarly unite us in a spirit of knowing, caring, and understanding one another at a level that extends beyond 140 characters.

Rest in peace, Robin. You were truly one of a kind.

[Photos via 1, 2, 3, 4, 5]

Day 311: Into the Storm

"I spent the last week filming time capsule videos about the future, and now it looks like I don't have one."

The found footage film has gone through a lot of changes since The Blair Witch Project more or less introduced it as a cheap, moneymaking genre film fifteen years ago. As audiences have theoretically gotten savvier about questioning how and why certain things were being filmed, filmmakers have in turn created an ever increasing number of boneheaded explanations. While some of these films have succeeded, Chronicle leaps immediately to mind, most are an abysmal failure mainly because they become so beholden to the concept that everything else becomes secondary. Writers are now so consumed by presenting reasons for the movie existing in the first place that character, plot, and virtually all the basic tenets of screenwriting go out the window.

The latest found footage film Into the Storm decided to spice up the genre by mashing it together with another genre film that has just as many well-worn tropes, the disaster film. Could it succeed despite the overwhelming odds against it, or would it be another in a long line of missed opportunities? Read on to find out...

The residents of the small town of Silverton, Oklahoma are prepping for high school graduation. Donnie (Max Deacon) has been tasked by his distant single father Gary (Richard Armitage), the vice principal of the high school, to create time capsule videos for all of the graduating seniors which they can view in 25 years. Donnie has an unrequited crush on Kaitlyn (Alycia Debnam Carey), the most popular girl in school who just so happens to need help creating a video to land that big summer internship. Donnie offers his services and pawns off graduation filming duties onto his younger brother Trey (Nathan Kress).

A group of storm chasers, led by Pete (Matt Walsh), are making a documentary about tornados, but have yet to encounter one. Pete blames PhD Meteorologist--and single mom away from her daughter for the first time in her life--Allison (Sarah Wayne Callies) for being too scientific with the locations she's sending them to, and not using instinct enough to track the storms properly. Just as their funding gets cut, the group track the storm to Silverton, which at first seems as if it's going to be another dead zone. What no one in the town of Silverton is prepared for, however, is that the biggest storm in history is headed right toward them.

First things first, I really need to get this off of my chest before I go any further with this review, this is a god damned stupid movie. It might be one of the dumbest movies I have ever seen, and that is really saying something. The film mindlessly telegraphs everything that's going to happen, allowing anyone with even a cursory knowledge of poor screenwriting clichés to stay five steps ahead of every single character in the film. When Gary finds out that his son Trey is carrying a knife, even though he's not allowed to have one, he confiscates it from his son and puts it in his pocket because, well, he's going to need it later in the film. Just as Pete's about to fire Allison for her umpteenth bad judgment call, she turns out to be right on the money with her prediction. Will a casual mention by Donnie of childhood CPR lessons come in handy later in the film? Will the guy on the storm chaser team that almost quits because he fears for his life be the first to die? Will the most selfish character in the film be the one that makes the most selfless sacrifice at the end?

This is horseshit hack screenwriting 101 which is only further exacerbated by the fact that it's also forced to introduce characters that have access to cameras because they're going to need to cover every angle of the storm. Honestly I was shocked that Gary and Allison didn't end up together in the end, because it's basically the only trope the film manages to avoid, and then expects you to pat it on the back for dodging that one piece of flying debris. It's the kind of film that creates flawed characters solely to give them redemption arcs, and literally stops the action of the film cold to pay homage first to Twister then, bafflingly, to The Matrix Revolutions (which, like this film, are both Warner Bros. productions). It also takes itself so seriously that it doesn't even see the inherent comedy in having a cameraman chase his camera into the tornado, when five minutes earlier he was pissing his pants because he was afraid he was going to die while shooting the storm.

The visual effects are impressive, when they mercifully show up about thirty minutes into the movie, but they're not remotely worth sitting through such dross to get to. The film this seems to have the most in common with is 2010's Skyline, a film that was made by two visual effects supervisors who spent their lives watching sci-fi flicks and thought to themselves, we can make a better movie than these. If you've seen Skyline, you know how miserably they failed to do just that, and this film reeks of the same sense of unearned self-importance. If Michael Bay's career has proved nothing else, it's that the best visual effects in the world are utterly meaningless when they're in support of a story that's just not worth telling.

The actors are all fine, and do their jobs effectively, but none of them stand out. While the average person doesn't know who Matt Walsh is, I must admit I was a tad disappointed to see him playing such a humorless character when he's an hysterically funny and gifted comedic actor. Richard Armitage, freed from the confines of his Thorin Oakenshield makeup, is also serviceable, but looks distractingly like he could be Hugh Jackman's stunt double, and really doesn't give his character much time to transform into a decent guy, it just sort of happens all of a sudden. The atrocious script does him no favors, but it would have been nice to actually see an arc there rather than just a change of heart that's no more noteworthy than a light switch being flipped on.

Into the Storm is pure garbage. It's a film that falls victim to literally every cliché imaginable, except the one exception I already mentioned, and treats well worn territory like they're discovering the cure for cancer. It's one of those films where the opening scene lets you know exactly how ridiculous and clunky it's going to be, and if you're not on board by the time the title comes on screen, you're not likely to ever get on board. The found footage genre as a whole just needs to disappear. There's nothing left to discover, and even this film gives up on it at times, gaining camera angles and footage that was absolutely impossible given the number of people in the shot. It's a dumb film that has a blatant disregard for the intelligence of the average audience member, and those that can't recognize that they're being pandered to are likely the only ones that will get any enjoyment out of it.

GO Rating: 1/5

[Photos via BoxOfficeMojo]

Day 309: Lucy

"To knowledge."

The advertising campaign for director Luc Besson's latest film, Lucy, focused on the film's perpetuation of the myth that humans use only 10% of their brains. This pseudoscience has been around for decades, and has been the subject of numerous other films, the most famous of which is the ridiculously dumb 2011 film Limitless. No doubt, this is a big selling point for the film to countless people who still believe that's true, but to anyone that actually utilizes more than 10% of their brain, the film seemed hopelessly stupid. Could it rise above such low expectations, or would it be another in a long line of terrible movies that seem to think that they're smarter than they actually are? Read on to find out...

Lucy (Scarlett Johansson) is an American living in Taipei and dating a flaky drug dealer (Pilou Asbæk). When he tricks Lucy into delivering a mysterious suitcase to a mysterious and high-powered criminal named Mr. Jang (Min-sik Choi), he ends up getting Lucy involved in a world she was not prepared for. Jang uses Lucy, and a number of other people, as drug mules to deliver an experimental new drug to the major cities of Europe by stashing inside their abdomens. When Lucy runs afoul of some toughs, one of whom kicks her repeatedly in the stomach, the pouch of drugs inside her breaks open and enters into her bloodstream, causing her to gain power over unused portions of her brain. 

At the same time, Professor Norman (Morgan Freeman) is delivering a lecture on how humans only use 10% of their brains, and begins to hypothesize what the human brain would be capable of at various percentages of use. Lucy discovers his work and attempts to track him down to better help him understand what a human can actually do with increased brain capacity. She must also find the other drug mules and retrieve the additional supply of the drug inside them to help her continue expanding her mind, but she's in a race against time as Jang wants his drugs to be delivered safely to the dealers. 

The most surprising thing about Lucy is how it manages to let the audience know from literally minute one that it's going to revel in stupidity, but it's going to do so intentionally. I must admit that I was baffled by the first ten minutes or so, because it seemed as if it thought it was a deep and insightful look at nonsensical pseudoscience, when in actuality it was trying to signal to the audience that it was pure nonsense. I am not ashamed to to admit that I wasn't giving Luc Besson enough credit to create an actual fun, dumb movie, and I thought that he had deluded himself into thinking the 10% myth was actually true. The amount of absurd things that happen in this film show that he is intentionally messing with the audience and flipping the script on them. 

Lucy is a breath of fresh air in a summer filled with mindless action films that think they have something to say when in actuality they're even dumber than a rock. This film is gloriously stupid, and I mean that as high praise. The film belongs comfortably in the company of films like Crank and its sequel, and 2011's Drive Angry as a self aware dumb action movie. The key to the film's success is that it's actually a very smartly made film. It is well aware of how dumb it is, and it continues to push the boundaries of believability to see if you're willing to keep pace. I daresay that the very audience that will enjoy it the most is the audience most likely to avoid it for fear that it will take itself too seriously. In the wrong director's hands, the film could have been an unmitigated catastrophe, but Besson knows he's past the point of making high art (if he was ever at that point at any time in his career) and for once plays right into the audience's expectations rather than falling victim to them.

Scarlett Johansson is terrific in the film, nicely combining her ass-kicking prowess of her work for Marvel Studios with the stoic seriousness of her recent triumph in Under the Skin. She continues to surprise every time out of the gate lately, and she perfectly achieves what she sets out to do. Besson's shrewdest bit of casting, however, was having Morgan Freeman play the doctor who spouts off absurd talking points throughout the first half hour of the film. It lends the film the sort of faux-respectability it needs to perfectly subvert your expectations. Freeman's absolute dedication to the drivel he has to spout off makes the film that much better, and is a perfect example of how well Besson knew exactly what kind of film he was making. Min-sik Choi was also a welcome addition to the cast, and played his cartoonishly unstoppable villain with all the aplomb he's brought to his much more subdued work with Chan-wook Park. 

Besson is back in top form here as well, instantly erasing the terrible memories of last year's The Family. As a matter of fact, it only makes that film, and his work on it, look worse in retrospect because he could have been having a lot more fun with a premise that was equally absurd. Besson's never been the kind of director to dig below the surface in his films, and he seems gloriously aware of that with this film. The action set pieces are a wonder to behold, from a crack car chase through the streets of Paris to a hilariously awful use of a rocket launcher. He similarly manages to work wonders when he further subverts expectations by having Lucy use ridiculous mind powers to avoid a lengthy action sequence. It's a top notch piece of directing.

Make no mistake about it, Lucy is a stupid, stupid movie, but it's also insanely fun. It's remarkably well-paced, never lagging for a moment, and anytime it takes a diversion into explaining the the remarkable new abilities that Lucy will gain with increased brain capacity, it gets even dumber and more fun. It's the kind of film that feels like it was written by someone who audited a Philosophy 101 course and only attended class while high out of their minds. It's full of ideas and explanations that go nowhere and bait the audience into thinking that it's deep when actually it's dumb as a rock. Lucy is not a good movie, but it is fantastically fun.  

GO Rating: 3.5/5

[Photos via BoxOfficeMojo]