Monday at the Movies - September 30, 2013

Welcome to another edition of “Monday at the Movies.”  With Halloween fast approaching, it’s time to get into a spookier mood, so today a sequel of sorts to last October’s haunted Halloween.

Room 237 (2012) – On paper, at least, I make my living by interpreting, at best observing significant patterns and at worst “reading into” things.  So for someone like me, Room 237 is a spellbinding documentary about what Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining really means.  The Shining is a film on which I had to do a complete 180 regarding my opinion, due in large part to the hermeneutical depth one can plumb with this film.  The theories put forth in this film range from the plausible to the endearingly absurd; one credible theorist posits that the film is about the nature of evil (sure), while another points to the prevalence of Native American imagery as a commentary on genocide (well, now that you mention it...).  Sidebar:  My favorite is the one about how Kubrick faked the moon landing while filming 2001: A Space Odyssey, with The Shining as his covert confession.  While some of the interpretations are quite clearly out there – and this documentary obviously knows it (one dubious theory is followed by a clip of Jack Nicholson intoning, “Whatever you say, Lloyd”) – the real fun of the film is in seeing the enthusiasm these interpreters have for their pet theories and in the way that Room 237 returns frequently to its source material to show the audience what the interpreters are seeing (highlighting, for example, the native iconography in the freezer).  But at the end of the day, what I really enjoyed about Room 237 is how similar it is to watching The Shining with a group of friends, each as invested in the act of interpretation as I am.

That does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We won't see you here next week, since next Monday is the Double-Oh-Seventh of the month, and I happen to have a date with The Spy Who Loved Me...

Monday at the Movies - September 23, 2013

Welcome to another edition of “Monday at the Movies.”  I’ve been doing an annotated bibliography on the novel and awaiting details about the third entry in the trilogy of adaptations, so this week we present a review that really ought to have gone up on September 2.

Atlas Shrugged: Part II (2012) – I’m on record as being an admirer of Ayn Rand’s magnum opus, an 1100-page treatise on railroads and free-market capitalism.  And I even liked the first film adaptation, marred by a low budget and poor marketing though it undeniably was.  With a full cast overhaul for Part II, I wasn’t optimistic, but perhaps as a result I ended up enjoying this one more than I expected.  Make no mistake, though; this isn’t a full movie but rather quite clearly a middle entry in a six-hour three-part narrative, so don’t come in looking for a one-and-done.  As heroic Dagny Taggart, one of the last holdouts in a crumbling dystopia, Samantha Mathis is capable, though she lacks that snarky edge that Taylor Schilling brought to the role in Part I.  Similarly, Jason Beghe’s Hank Rearden is gruffer and more of a heavy than Grant Bowler in the first (who I contend was perfect casting).  But as Francisco d’Anconia, Esai Morales is head over heels a better choice than Jsu Garcia, giving the role all the mystique and theatricality it deserves; d’Anconia is essentially Rand’s Bruce Wayne, and Morales plays the character’s apparent contradictions to the hilt.  (But remember, “Contradictions do not exist. Whenever you think that you are facing a contradiction, check your premises.”)  These movies have been hampered by low budgets, though the inclusion of more character actors from TV (like Ray Wise, Paul McCrane, and Diedrich Bader) has given us some great casting for Part II.  While these films likely only hold the attention of the converted, let’s hope Part III ends on the high note the novel deserves.

That does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you here next week!  

Monday at the Movies - September 16, 2013

Welcome to another edition of “Monday at the Movies.”  This week, the closest we come to reviewing TV shows (at least, for now).

In the Loop (2009) – Leave it to the Brits to turn the run-up to the Iraq War into a madcap update of Dr. Strangelove.  Not quite a movie version of the brilliant BBC series The Thick of It (the same cast appears, albeit most playing different roles), In the Loop finds spin doctor Malcolm Tucker (Peter Capaldi) very much out of said loop, struggling to contain the press frenzy surrounding the offhand remarks of a Cabinet minister (Tom Hollander) who said that war in the Middle East was “unforeseeable.”  When the minister’s perpetual verbal blunders go viral, the pair find themselves drawn into the orbit of Lt. General Miller (James Gandolfini) and Linton Barwick (David Rasche), two American politicos on opposite sides of the dove/hawk aisle.  In the Loop is laugh-out-loud funny, even when the characters aren’t trying to outswear each other; the kind of satirical buffoonery that made Dr. Strangelove gets a refreshing modern spin (pun intended) where the political world is a Baudrillardian nightmare of know-nothings and power vacuums.  The film is not the fastest paced movie you’ll see all year, but the real delights are to be found in the dialogue (most courtesy of writer/director Armando Iannucci’s Oscar-nominated script).  But as often happens in films like this, the incredibly talented cast is given free improvisational rein, lending the film flourishes like Capaldi’s practically melodious profanity-laden tirades or a delightful cameo from Steve Coogan as a disgruntled constituent.  In short, In the Loop is one of the smartest and funniest movies I’ve seen in a long time (and if I reviewed TV shows on here, I’d say the same for The Thick of It).

That does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you here next week!  

Monday at the Movies - September 9, 2013

Welcome to another edition of “Monday at the Movies.”  This week, it’s back to what we do best:  reviewing comic book movies.

Dredd (2012) – I’ll admit right off the bat that I’ve never seen the 1995 Sylvester Stallone treatment of the hyperviolent 2000 AD comics character, though I’ve only heard bad things.  If those bad things are true, I’m confident in saying that Dredd is a finer take on that character, but even better – it’s a solid film regardless.  Karl Urban stars as the titular Judge Dredd, a law enforcement officer with a permanent scowl and a relentless penchant for any-means-necessary punishment.  Training rookie Anderson (Olivia Thirlby) on a routine triple homicide, Dredd becomes the target of drug lord Ma-Ma (Lena Headey) in a locked-down slum building.  First of all, Urban looks exactly like the comic book character (and it helps that he never removes his helmet), and he captures the no-nonsense sneer with aplomb.  I was less convinced by Thirlby’s portrayal of Anderson, though she holds her own by the time the film reaches its climax.  Major kudos go to director Pete Travis, who keeps the action sequences engaging without feeling like we’re watching a video game and who deftly walks that line between black humor and tonal inconsistency.  Indeed, the film takes itself just seriously enough that its violent excesses result in some fantastic eyeball kicks rather than a series of gory grotesqueries.  While Dredd is far from the A-list comic book entertainment we’ve come to expect from the likes of Nolan, Whedon, and (most recently) Synder, it’s a fine second-tier comic book movie in the same vein as Rodriguez’s Sin City – a tonally and visually faithful adaptation bringing the source material to life at the hands of (as Smilin’ Stan might say) some true believers.

That does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you here next week!  

The Man with the Golden Gun (1974)

After a lackluster debut in Live and Let Die, Roger Moore’s tenure as Bond was off to an inauspicious start, peppered with inopportune humor and a dated sensibility.  Though not quite perfect, The Man with the Golden Gun vastly improves on its predecessor for a more than enjoyable second outing with Moore.

James Bond (Moore) receives a death threat from legendary assassin Francisco Scaramanga (Christopher Lee), who vows to kill 007 with a bullet from his golden gun.  Facing a mandatory leave of absence from MI6, Bond instead opts to pursue Scaramanga across Asia, a quest less-than-ably assisted by secret agent Mary Goodnight (Britt Ekland).  But on Scaramanga’s secret island base – under the custodial care of his henchman Nick Nack (Hervé Villechaize) – Bond discovers Scaramanga’s real motives in the midst of a duel quite literally to the death.

I had good things to say about Roger Moore in Live and Let Die: surprising even myself, considering his reputation as an unpalatable Bond for today’s grim-n-gritty crowd.  Fortunately, those still stand with Golden Gun.  Moore’s Bond is different than Connery’s, less aggressive and more suave; he remains entirely capable, compelling, and convincing as an able-bodied (in every sense of the word) secret agent.  He delivers the one-liners with the right placement of his tongue in his cheek, but he’s equally at home firing a pistol or pursuing clues (more on those later).

More importantly, though, Christopher Lee is a phenomenally first-rate Bond villain as Scaramanga.  More than atoning for Live and Let Die’s rather limp villainous cast, Lee is the baddie we deserve – perhaps no surprise, considering his impressive thespian résumé.  Indeed, with anyone else wielding the titular golden gun, this film might have been a dull entry in the canon, but Lee’s presence elevates the picture into another stratosphere.  It helps that the character is exceptionally well-written, with fascinating motivations (even amid a slightly hokey technosabotage subplot) and – if we’re being totally honest – a really cool gimmick in the form of that some-assembly-required firearm.  Lee and Moore play off each other quite well; in a parallel universe somewhere, there’s a version of this film starring Sean Connery opposite Lee, but for now this one will do (although the Steve Coogan/Rob Brydon reinterpretation ain’t bad, either).

The less said about Britt Ekland, the better; she’s the worst kind of Bond Girl, the kind whose irrelevance to the plot is thrown into sharp relief whenever the screenwriters shoehorn her into a romantic scene with Bond.  Perhaps worse, it’s apparent that Ekland was not cast on the strengths of her audition tape; instead, it seems she was cast solely for the wardrobe change in the third act which restricts her to a skimpy bikini and makes her literally the butt of a joke about her incompetence as a field agent.  Similar jeers go to Clifton James as Sheriff J.W. Pepper, apparently on vacation in Thailand; this boorish caricature of a performance feels entirely out of place in this film, a brutal swerve toward lowbrow comic relief that’s as out of place as Larry the Cable Guy would have been in Skyfall.  (Please, Lord, don’t let any important decision makers see that idea.)

Ultimately what redeems The Man with the Golden Gun – Lee aside, of course – is director Guy Hamilton’s navigation of a screenplay that takes him back to his Goldfinger roots.  Like most of my favorite Bond movies, this one involves Bond searching out clues and evidence; neither he nor the audience has all the pieces when the film starts.  This air of mystery that Hamilton cultivates, even amid the irritating supporting cast and the grotesquely misplaced slapstick comedy, makes The Man with the Golden Gun an engrossing feature film, one that plays to the strengths of its leads and its director.  Compared to Live and Let Die, Golden Gun ends up being Moore’s (and Hamilton’s) finer hour.

But I hear the next one is even better?

The Man with the Golden Gun is rated PG.  The standard amount of gunplay occurs in this film, though a few headshots with bloody trickles are shown.  Bond seduces two women; two women are seen naked, though one is behind frosted glass, and the other is implied to be skinny-dipping.

James Bond and The Cinema King will return in a review of The Spy Who Loved Me (1977) on October 7, 2013!  (And would you believe I’ve actually never seen this one before?)

Monday at the Movies - September 2, 2013

Welcome to another edition of “Monday at the Movies” – this week, we review two films that are really quite draining in an entirely delectable sense.

Drive (2011) – Here’s a movie that’s way more intense than I was expecting.  In Nicolas Winding Refn’s Drive, Ryan Gosling plays a stunt driver, moonlighting as a getaway driver, who becomes embroiled in the underworld after falling in love with his neighbor (Carey Mulligan).  I don’t really know what I thought I was getting into; I’d only heard rave reviews, and I’ve never seen a Gosling performance I didn’t like.  But Drive is such an oddball captivating flick, its glacial pace tempered by Refn’s keen cinematographic eye – the result is something closer to There Will Be Blood than 2001: A Space Odyssey.  All this is not to say that the film is boring; rather, Refn directs the daylights out of some car chases without resorting to shaky cameras or even quick cuts, relying on the natural tension of the narrative and a well-placed close-up on Gosling’s steely stare.  Drive is undeniably Gosling’s show (Refn’s direction, though, giving a run for his proverbial money), but an astounding array of supporters – Mulligan, Bryan Cranston, Christina Hendricks, Ron Perlman, and Albert Brooks as a spooky mobster sans eyebrows – fill out the film with that who’s-who delight enjoyed by moviegoers such as myself.  But boy, is this a violent flick, with some of the most jarring violence I’ve seen in movies recently – and, remember, I loved Django Unchained.  But Refn’s use of violence is sparse, used to jar and interrupt and not to delight; essentially, it does what violence actually does in real life, which makes it all the more effective and/or disturbing.  Drive, then, comes highly recommended.

Take Shelter (2011) – Is there any working actor more intense than Michael Shannon?  He’s always wound tighter than Taft’s bathtub, but when that simmer boils over it’s explosively good fun to watch.  Take Shelter might have been a dull picture with any other front man, but Shannon does fantastic work in an Oscar-snubbed lead performance as Curtis, a family man haunted by nightmares of an impending apocalypse.  As his behavior becomes increasingly obsessive and erratic, Curtis risks alienating his wife (Jessica Chastain), who’s especially worried about the fate of their deaf daughter and what will happen to the family if Curtis’s burgeoning psychosis threatens his own employment as a construction worker.  This is not a movie where much happens; instead, the film relies on the capable performances of Shannon and Chastain, who are more than believable as beleaguered Midwestern spouses.  The film is undeniably Shannon’s, his clairvoyance/psychosis (depending on how you read the film) taking a clear toll on his wellbeing as he grimaces and twitches in quiet moments before squinting into the horizon or, in one of the film’s strongest moments, unleashing his manic frustrations on his friends.  While she stands in a long shadow, Chastain is the emotional anchor of the film, the audience’s point of interaction as voice to a thousand doubts and frustrations; I don’t know where she came from all of a sudden, but her work in the past few years (particularly Zero Dark Thirty) demonstrates that Hollywood needs more of her kind of actress.  More indie than blockbuster, Take Shelter flew low enough under the radar that more people ought to see it – especially those of us needing a little more intensity from General Zod.

That does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you here next week!  And don’t forget that this Saturday is the Double-Oh-Seventh of the month...