Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004)

I’m a geek. I love the Harry Potter series. I rush out to see every one of the films just like I do to get each new novel.

That may change.

For me, this film was a bitter disappointment. At just over two hours in length, it’s not a short movie. But it still feels as though the production team went out of their way to make it as brief as possible. Azkaban contains a lot of important plot developments, too many to squeeze into the time that is allotted to this film. I left feeling like I’d watched an episode of "Benny Hill"—everything in fast motion. As a result, certain actions are stripped of their motivations and several crucial details from the novel are left out. For those who haven’t read the book, parts of the movie will be incomprehensible.

But I have to give credit where it’s due. Of all three films, this is the most visually stunning yet. The effects are grand; the camera work is masterful. Lighting is never inappropriate. The crew managed to capture the essence of the novel’s dark yet whimsical tone. If only they’d captured more of it.

Also, the talents of the young actors are really developing. One of my main qualms with the earlier two flicks was with Emma Watson (Hermione), who I’ve hitherto considered a poisonous actress. She does a truly fine job here, as does the cast as a whole. I hope that L.A.P. (Life after Potter) holds good things for all their careers, and believe that it will.

(And just as a sideline, what’s up with the ending? They take a detail from the middle of the book, slap it on the end, don’t bother to explain it, and have the movie abruptly just stop. That was my most hated moment of the film; I just couldn’t think of a segway into it. Hence the parenthetical paragraph.)

As any Pottermaniac knows, there have been five books so far and two more are planned to follow. Naturally, that means seven films in all. I can only pray that future adaptations are given the room to breathe that they deserve. J.K. Rowling’s books are filled with magic; they suck you in and make you beg for more. They leave the reader’s head spinning with delight. As opposed to confusion. Guys, let’s work on that.

(P.S. I just feel the need to confess that I went to see this movie wearing my U.C. Sunnydale t-shirt, which officially makes me one of the biggest nerds in the world. So what else is new?)


Delicatessen (1991)

I first saw this film years ago, and re-rented in on a whim today. I was so taken by it (again) that I had to share my thoughts on it.

Heard of Jean Pierre Jeunet? Maybe, maybe not. Okay, heard of Amelie? That’s a big “probably,” I’m guessing. Jeunet was the director of that marvelous work…marvelous, but not his best. Definitely the most user friendly, hence its success. It’s easy to relate to.

He also did an acclaimed film called City of Lost Children. VERY artistic piece, truly original. But a little too “out there” for mainstream tastes. It’s the Dali to Amelie’s Van Gogh—both beautiful, oh yes, but one more traditionally appealing than the other.

Which makes Delicatessen a…what, a Cezanne? Enough frigging metaphors. What I’m trying to say is that it is a near perfect balance of plot and artistry, falling squarely between the two other films. Although it takes place in a wild and speculative future, the actions of the characters are human and understandable. And funny. Really, really funny.

Jeunet is also a master of making images fit mood, and this film is no exception. Bleak, crumbling sets are juxtaposed with scattered bits of vivid color to show sparks of hope and life within apocalyptic surroundings.

And practically the whole film can be seen as one big Rube Goldberg device. Actions trigger other actions, everything interconnecting. I like that.

I tend to get carried away gushing about it, but I guess that Delicatessen isn’t going to appeal to everyone. Some viewers may find it too gothic and forbidding, despite the comic overtones. And, like pretty much any film involving THE FUTURE (cue echoey,. disembodied voice here) it requires more than a little suspension of disbelief at times.

But if you like a little science in your fiction, a little whistling past your graveyard, and a little foreign in your film, by all means go and rent this one. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry…you just may become a vegetarian. Have fun.
- posted by Jeremy @ 3:32 AM

 
On the BAFTAs: congrats to Lost in Translation for garnering much warranted praise! And a sad "I'm sorry" to Big Fish for being overlooked. And a big fat eye roll to the obvious laurels that went to LOTR. Nothing against the excellent series, mind. But (and this is from a base and non-critical standpoint) I'm getting sick of hearing about 'em. Sorry, but I'm actually looking forward to a world without new Tolkien-based movies...at least until they roll out The Hobbit.

The Triplets of Belleville (2003)

It took this film a while to come to The Triad, and it’s easy to understand why. It’s not conventional theatre fare: a feature length animation geared more toward adults than children. Canadian, no less. There’s little dialogue spoken, and much of it is in French—not subtitled; it’s not regarded as crucial enough to the plot to be so. And the plot, while not as fanciful as that of most “cartoons,” is farfetched to say the least.

With that said, this is one of the finest animated films I’ve seen, and certainly one of the best films I’ve seen within the past year. The style is at once retrospective and cutting edge; if some of the effects weren’t so spectacular (heat shimmering on pavement, an almost three-dimensional ocean), this film could be mistaken for a much older one. And I mean that in the best sense—its tongue-in-cheek whimsical style isn’t seen often enough in current and (dare I say it) American movies.

The characters are beautifully done, visually and otherwise. Many are made into purposeful stereotypes with comic results; the square shouldered identical Mafia men are my favorites. And the tendency of animated films to trivialize many of their characters' problems for comedy’s sake isn’t present here. It’s possible and simple to relate to the circumstances of each.

It isn’t perfect. Although it clocks in at only 82 minutes, the storyline drags in places. The dog Bruno spends a little too much time barking at trains, for instance. And I would like to have seen the world of Belleville explored a little more fully. The creative team must have gone above and beyond to develop this fantastic, intriguing city, and could have used it to greater potential.

I’d like to remind everyone that this film is an Oscar contender, and give it my full support. Granted I haven’t seen the much lauded Finding Nemo, so I can’t honestly say how this film measures up. But the critics are predicting a close one. I’d love to see this one win. It’d be great to hear people mumbling, “The Triplets of what???” before heading out to see it on the big screen.


Hollywood Ending (2002)

[Disclaimer: this is more of an overall Woody Allen analysis than a specific review. But I have important things to say anyway, so do read on.]

I’d waited a while to see this one, largely due to the lackluster Curse of the Jade Scorpion that Woody Allen turned out before it. But upon seeing the superior Anything Else and having my faith restored, I gave this one a shot.

It’s not bad. It’s fine. The casting’s fine. The direction, fine. It’s entertaining and well paced. There’s excellent use of lighting and scenery.

But is isn’t one of his best, which brings up a point. Let’s look at Allen’s last five feature written and directed films: Anything Else, this one, Jade Scorpion, Small Time Crooks, and Sweet and Lowdown. With the exception of the first, each one looks at human interaction within the context of a particular event or theme. This film utilizes a gag: let’s have a film director try to work blind. Jade Scorpion—neo (or pseudo) noir comedy is the milieu. Small Time Crooks, acquisition of wealth. Sweet and Lowdown is a mockumentary.

And out of these, Anything Else is far and away my favorite. Because its focus is strictly on relationships; the rest of the plot is secondary. There’s no running theme and no specific event that sets a tone. It seems to me that an uncanny understanding of male-female interaction is really Allen’s strength, and his films work best (for me) when that’s the real point.

I’m not saying that Woody Allen is a one trick pony, far from it. The man’s a cinematic god, no question about it. But think of his most critically well regarded films. Annie Hall. Hannah and Her Sisters. Manhattan. All can be viewed primarily as commentary on interpersonal relationships. The others are good. They’re just not necessarily as good.

But I digress, and how. Hollywood Ending is a good flick. It’s just not one of the great and celebrated “Woody Allen movies.” It’s straightforward comedy that a lot of people can appreciate. Nothing less…and nothing more.
- posted by Jeremy @ 4:23 AM

 
Bubba Ho-Tep (2004)

“Ask not what your rest home can do for you. Ask what you can do for your rest home.”
--Elvis to “Jack Kennedy” in Bubba Ho-Tep

The plot epitomizes shlock. Elvis isn’t dead; he’s in a rest home after switching identities with one of his impersonators some years ago. JFK is dead, but another home resident thinks that he isn’t—and that he’s the dead president himself. Together they must join forces to defeat an angry Egyptian pharaoh-spirit they call Bubba Ho-Tep, who is terrorizing Shady Rest by stealing the souls of its elderly…by sucking them out through their arseholes, no less.

It should be hilarious.

It’s not, really.

It has its moments. I got the giggles several times throughout the film, although they were at least in part due to my asking myself, “Am I really seeing this? Did they really make this movie?”

And Bubba Ho-Tep does at least work on that level: its own absurdity. Its shortcoming is that the plot description is funnier than the plot itself, which is just too thin to make ninety-odd (very odd) minutes more than a little entertaining.

I give it props for some really spiffy cinematography. A film that sells itself as pure farce could easily have skimped on artistry, but it doesn’t. It’s consistently an attractive thing to watch.

And I can’t pick at the performances. Even supporting roles are fleshed out well.

The most pleasant surprise, however, was that the characters’ personal plights were interesting in ways other than in their dealings with the spirit world. Defeating Bubba Ho-Tep is more than just an exercise in protecting their fellow geriatric buddies, it’s an act of self-redemption for both Elvis and Jack. And I was down with that; I bought it.

I guess I was just expecting a bit…more. There’s a very slow buildup to the anticlimactic climax. And I would have liked to see a bit more factual information about the story behind the mummy, which is only hinted at in one sequence. As diligent as the two gentlemen are about research, it would have been a sensible and (most importantly) interesting addition.

Should you see it? Yeah, sure. It’s not a waste of time. But wait for video.
- posted by Jeremy @ 1:42 AM

 
Laurel Canyon (2002)

Several years ago, I had a conversation with a friend regarding morality. She contested that there exist certain "gray areas" in which a person can function healthily disregarding conventional morals and standards for behavior. At the time, I thought that was simply a justification for "fast living" (if you will), a cop out and excuse for putting one's own pleasure above the feelings of other people.

Needless to say, now I know better. I've traveled within some of those gray areas myself, and they're nice places to be. Here's what I'm getting at: have you ever found yourself in a situation involving taboos--sex, drugs, maybe even violence--and been shocked at your own actions? Pleasantly shocked, even, at how far you would go?

Then you'll get Laurel Canyon, and you may well enjoy it. The idea of an upstanding, almost anal young couple (played here by Christian Bale and Kate Beckinsale) being corrupted by an immoral environment (here the world of Bale's mother, Francis McDormand; her boyfriend, Alessandro Nivola, and their circle) goes at least as far back as the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

This film, however, is unique in that it leaves the viewer guessing as to just where the chips will fall, and whether the protagonists will continue to plunge into temptation or adopt more conservative ways of life. All the while taking into consideration the basic humanity inherent within them, the ego that continuously struggles with the id.

How fitting that Christian Bale's character is a budding psychiatrist!

Although the plot is predictable to a point, certainly. Beckinsale's character is waaaay too straight laced not to fall in with McDormand's decadent crowd. And as soon as Bale sees the face of the woman at the traffic signal (Natascha McElhone), we know that they will tryst.

But these are petty details that don't affect the film's overall message. I admit, I was worried for a bit. Just before the film's conclusion I mentally yelled "STOOOOOOPPPPP! It's perfect to end right HERE!" And it did. I love it when that happens. It would have been tempting (and far too conventional for a film of this nature) to sew things up neatly. Because of this ambiguity, Laurel Canyon manages not to make value judgements. Neither debauchery nor conventionalism is endorsed. Instead, one gets the feeling that both should learn to co-exist, and to exist in moderation.

(Note to gay guys/straight girls: if you don't recognize Alessandro Nivola as one undeniably sexy bitch in this film, you'd better not tell me. I'll think you must be dead. Then I'll freak out about talking to a dead person and cut you off cold. Although talking to corpses is slightly less absurd than not drooling puddles over Alessandro.)
- posted by Jeremy @ 6:39 AM

 
GOLDEN GLOBE PICKS!

Upon scrutinizing the noms for the Golden Globe Awards, I realize that I've seen amazingly few of the films/series up for the honor this year. So I offer only two opinions:

1)Given the other entries, I hope/feel that Lost in Translation will clean up.

2) My faith in humanity will be restored if Arrested Development wins for best musical or comedy series. It probably won't. But it should. Let's face it, Will and Grace and Sex and the City have both earned their moments out of the sun.

And that's it. Other than that, I'll just watch and pretend that I'm hip to everything that's going on and not an introverted art house snob who could be made to believe that Cold Mountain is a documentary on Mount Hood.


Big Fish (2003)

In every conventionally made film (three part structure, more-or-less linear plotline, no involvement of Yoko Ono), there comes a point where the viewer makes a very important decision, one that will probably be the most important factor in forming an overall opinion of the project. That decision is more often than not unconscious, and should be. It’s the answer to this question: “How much do I care about these characters?”

Big Fish made me care. Oh, it made me care a lot. Enough to leave me in tears for only the fourth or fifth time ever watching a film.

Fine actor though he is, I had some doubts about Ewan MacGregor’s ability to portray the character of a fresh young Southerner. My worries were unfounded; his own talent coupled with the fine, genuine material to make the young Ed Bloom as easy to accept as a fourth glass of sweet tea at a barbecue joint.

Praising the work of Albert Finney as the elder Bloom is completely unnecessary. After all, has Albert Finney ever not done a character justice? What I’m getting at is that the film is well cast. That sums it up.

Going on plot and performance alone, Big Fish could have survived in excellence without the artistic eye of a skilled director. Ah, but it didn’t have to! Tim Burton is in full glory here, his surreal tactics as home as they’ve ever been in this exaggerated (or is it?) world of Ed Bloom’s past. He brings to life the classic tradition of the tall tale in one beautiful segment after another. However fantastic the story, it’s told with such childish glee and imagination that we want nothing more than to believe it, and can. I’ll bet that Burton and crew looked at the finished footage and questioned “fish stories” they’d heard themselves…and gave them a little more credence this time around.

But what kind of review would this be if no criticism was given? For me, the only aspect of the film that might want change is the notion of Jenny and the witch (Helena Bonham Carter as both) being somehow the same. I understand the purpose of the suggestion—lines between reality and fantasy being blurred, the futility of skepticism, blah blah blah—but it just doesn’t seem necessary, and seems too convoluted for the rest of the film. Then again, it does reinforce the film’s message: that there are sometimes more important things than literal truth.

Although we usually think along the same lines, in this instance I am disappointed with Roger Ebert (you may be familiar with him; he’s a critic of sorts, although his opinions aren’t tempered with the unadulterated and welcome freshness of an amateur’s). Unimpressed with Big Fish, his opinion was as much a shrug as a thumbs up or a thumbs down, dismissing the film as “doodling of a very high order” compared to Burton’s other work.

I think that Ebert reached my mentioned point of reckoning and just didn’t care, although that would have been impossible for me to do. Because art aside, I felt a personal connection with this film. And the presence or absence of that connection is key to appreciating it. I’m so glad that it was there for me.
- posted by Jeremy @ 3:13 AM

 
Gerry (2002)

Before seeing this movie, ask yourself three questions:

1) Do I like art museums?
2) Am I by nature a patient person?
3) Have I read Waiting for Godot? And did I like it?

If the answer to all three (okay, four) is yes, by all means see Gerry. It’s not so much a film as a semi-surreal piece of art to be absorbed and thunk on. Every scene is gorgeous, every single one. And I love that the film was written by the director and the only two actors in it (not counting extras). I don't know offhand of any other film that's such a complete collaberation.

However, be warned. I once jokingly conceived of a short film that involved me spending half an hour in a diner drinking coffee and staring at a pillow on the ground outside. It would end with my picking up the pillow and driving off.

That film would have more action than Gerry. No, really. It would.

Gerry is an easy flick to sum up: two guys named Gerry go hiking on a public trail at the edge of a desert, looking for “the thing” (we never know what it is; maybe they don’t even know). But they get bored and turn around. They promptly get lost in the desert and spend the next hour and fifteen minutes of the film walking around and trying to get out. One Gerry kills the other Gerry just before finding his way to the highway. And that’s it.

There’s very little dialogue during the 108 minutes, which leaves the viewer room to concentrate on the scenery. And also the little details—watch the proximity of the characters to one another, and check out those awesome camera angles. The murder scene itself is brilliantly filmed. It made me think of a parasitic vine slowly choking the life out of its host tree—without emotion, without sound.

Just for the record, there’s been some critical discussion of queer themes in the film. In interviews Van Sant himself has been ambiguous on the subject. My take on it is thus. Are the characters gay? Maybe. Is at least one character gay? Likely. But it makes no difference either way. Like so much else about Gerry, it’s a very vague thing.

If I ever mention Gerry to anyone who says, “I hated that movie. It bored the shit out of me,” I won’t hold it against them. It’s not everyone’s cup of cinematic tea. But I liked it. A lot. It made me think. And that’s something I don’t do enough of these days.
- posted by Jeremy @ 3:29 AM

 
Rat Race (2001)

Okay. I rented this one thinking that it would be sophomoric, low-brow, and basically just all around lame. I also thought that I might like it.

I was right on all counts.

I’m a Zucker brothers fan from way back, and that predisposed me toward Rat Race a bit. This effort—directed by Jerry Zucker, sans David—is a good example of the kind of comedy they do: slapstick, randomly goofy, and on occasion requiring Dramamine. Granted Zucker is only the director; credit for the writing belongs to Andy Breckman (credits include both SNL and David Letterman), but Zucker does a great job of eliciting the over-the-top, classic (read: somewhat dated) interactions of the actors that match the material well.

The film comes in at just under two hours, but the pace never slows. Remember the climax of Pee Wee’s Big Adventure? Pee Wee steals the bike back on the movie set, and rides into one catastrophe after another over the next few minutes? If you’d enjoy an entire movie of that, then Rat Race is your cup of tea. If not, then you’re with the critics on this one.

Yes, it’s mindless. And it’s uncultured. But screw all that. It’s funny.

(P.S. If you ever have a chance to peruse the DVD, make sure to check out the deleted scenes to see Cuba Gooding Jr. get folded up in a Murphy bed just before getting beaten up by Diamond Dallas Page. What a tragic cut to make.)

George Washington (2000)

Ah, David Gordon Green. The coolest thing to happen to the Old North State since Superchunk. He impressed me so much with All the Real Girls that I had to go back and see GW, his acclaimed debut.

It’s a wonderful film, truly. The gist: what would a group of poor, Southern, African-American (predominantly) preteens do if they accidentally killed one of their circle of friends? But it’s about more. What I took away from GW was the intense sense of struggle by the characters to overcome their unfortunate circumstances—being in the wrong town, with the wrong people, etcetera. And the power of a boy’s dream of being a hero, and his frustration at not knowing how.

But it ain’t perfect. It's identifiable as Green’s first film, as he falls into some pretentious traps that I’m sure a lot of well-educated, well-meaning filmmakers do. Too much voiceover. Too many quick cuts. And all the exterior shots are done in an orange hue that’s obviously meant to accentuate the harshness of the character’s environment. Which it does…obviously. It’s nice to know that he outgrows these tendencies before making ATRG.

And Green’s characters, although fully developed, tend to be somewhat idealized. In ATRG we ask ourselves, “Would these good ol’ boys really be acting so sensitive?” In GW it’s, “Would these twelve year olds really be acting so mature?”

But those weaknesses aside, it’s a gritty piece of stuff that deserves a lot of attention. Fie on those who’ve called Green’s films “indie films for the indie.” Because his plots are too relatable to be pigeonholed that way. I mean, c’mon. Hasn’t everyone wanted to be a hero…?
- posted by Jeremy @ 4:00 AM