Monday at the Movies - May 14, 2018

Welcome to another installment of “Monday at the Movies.” This week, a trilogy concludes.

The Trip to Spain (2017)– After trips through Northern England and Italy, Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon are at it again in Michael Winterbottom’s third in the Trip trilogy, ostensibly reviewing restaurants but actually drinking in local culture and antagonizing each other in games of impressions and good-natured joshing. Three films in, The Trip to Spain shows some signs of wear, like a sauce that’s been on the pot a bit too long and is simmering a little thin. Where The Trip to Italy had a good laugh at the idea of just redoing the first film on the Italian peninsula, Spain feels more compulsory, intruded upon as it is by more constructed narratives (a subplot about Steve’s son) and a real head-scratcher of a conclusion that veers into weird satirical endlessness. The trip, though, has always been more the point of these movies than their destinations, and Spain does introduce a number of great bits, including a pit-stop amid a poor man’s Jurassic Park and an exceptionally apt James Bond reference apropos of Brydon’s preposterous choice of hat. The real stars of the film end up being, to the surprise of few, the impressions, chief among them Marlon Brando as the Spanish Inquisition by way of Python, a clapping Mick Jagger (who attempts his own Michael Caine impression), and Roger Moore, who on various occasions serves shellfish and narrates the history of the Spanish Moors as though they were his own family. A sort of “oh, this again” appearance by Yolanda the photographer does visualize the genius metaphor of Coogan as Don Quixote, with Brydon as his Sancho Panza, a gag that could have carried the film like Italy’s reference to The Godfather, Part II, but Spain doesn’t go there. Instead, it ends up somewhat less than the sum of its parts. I don’t anticipate (but would welcome) a fourth film to extend some of the matter of this film, but I do think that Coogan and Brydon are some of the most consistently funny comedians on film, even if this Trip seems less hysterical than the preceding two.

Sidebar: is this film the only time that the word “apotheosis” has been used as an insult? (Steve jeers that Rob’s “small man in a box” represents “the apotheosis of your career.”) A remarkable achievement in and of itself.

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

Monday at the Movies - April 16, 2018

Welcome to another installment of “Monday at the Movies.” This week, a movie described by the Hollywood Reporter as “the Godfather 2 of road movies.” 

The Trip to Italy (2014)– The Trip was a miniseries turned film about Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon, a pair of comedians playing fictionalized versions of themselves, touring the English countryside, reviewing restaurants, and antagonizing each other. Its sequel is the best kind of sequel – more of the same, self-aware of the absurdity of just doing it again, and just as riotously funny as the first. Coogan and Brydon continue to one-up each other on every topic from careers to impressions (on the latter, they’re in Italy, so you can imagine the Godfather allusions that proliferate, including one direct reenactment), from philosophical observations to precise trivia about seminal English poets. The pair have an undeniable combative chemistry, which really manifests in the deleted scenes, where they occasionally break “character” and laugh at the absurd rhetorical circles into which they chase each other. Where Coogan was more the straight man in the first Trip, exasperated by the ease with which Brydon can trigger a laugh, here he’s more laidback, more ready to get in on the fun, as when a conversation about Batman delves first into dueling Michael Caine impersonations before musing on the fact that Tom Hardy is “in a contest to see who can be the least understandable.” A subplot about infidelity is surprisingly sobering in The Trip to Italy, wallpapered over though it is by a stammering Hugh Grant impression, and one wonders if director Michael Winterbottom is musing about boorish vacuity or if he’s likening the fictional avatars to the storied biographies of the poets they’re chasing. There is a third film, The Trip to Spain, and the laughs-per-minute quotient here guarantees that the third will be well worth seeing.

That does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you 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 - April 9, 2012

Welcome to Week Fifteen of “Monday at the Movies.” We’re back to the three-film template with three “genre flicks”: a musical, a meta-mockumentary, and a remake.

Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008) – I have a hesitant affection for the Saw franchise (mostly redeemed by Tobin Bell’s star-marking performance), so this Darren Lynn Bousman rock opera is something I’ve orbited but to which I’ve never committed. While I’m no foe of musicals, the cast seemed a mixed bag: Paul Sorvino and Anthony Head on the one hand, Paris Hilton on the other. All told, Repo! is an odd hybrid of Sweeney Todd and the Saw franchise, with a dollop of dystopia thrown in for set dressing. Make no mistake – this is an opera, with generational rises and falls punctuated by bombastic solos and Sondheim-esque talk-singing. Sorvino is Rotti Largo, the dying organ transplant baron in search of a new heir after his brood (including Hilton as the surgery addict Amber Sweet); he finds one in Shilo (Spy Kids alum Alexa Vega), the daughter of his top organ-collecting repo man (Anthony Head). Among the film’s greatest strengths is its highly stylized look, ready-made for the Hot Topic crowd, and its rich plot, whipping between multiple threads which all tie together at the opera-within-an-opera finale. Unfortunately, though, the runtime is a little brief, and each plot thread is introduced with an exposition-heavy montage which might have been better served with a more extended flashback or musical sequence. Additionally, the film will turn off many with its gruesome violence (blood flows, intestines spill, and a face even falls off) and its musical style (more rhythmic slam poetry than melodious harmony), but I found it an enjoyable enough 90-some minutes.

Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story (2006) – Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon (best known as “those guys in the Michael Caine impressions video”) star in this metafictional adaptation of Laurence Sterne’s famously sprawling proto-postmodern novel, at once a filming of the book and a mockumentary on the making of said filming. After finally reading Tristram Shandy, I went back to the film, and my suspicions were confirmed – the film has many more jokes for those in the know, but it’s at its best when Coogan and Brydon are turned loose upon each other in a battle of one-ups-manship and celebrity impersonations. We begin with a riveting conversation in the makeup chairs, move to a half-hour adaptation of the first few volumes of the novel, and conclude with a failed preview screening of the failed film. There’s about 45 minutes that are almost entirely negligible, dwelling on Coogan’s self-caricature and ruminating a bit too much on the unfilmability of the novel. As a result, it’s easy to get distracted once the film stops showing the straight adaptation segments, especially in the moments when Coogan and Brydon are kept apart. There are a few clever bits, as when Gillian Anderson is cast to play the Widow Wadman, but this is a plot that doesn’t get as much attention as it ought. I’ll say this, though; rewatching Tristram Shandy has reminded me how much I still need to see The Trip, in which Coogan and Brydon team up for a restaurant road trip.

12 Angry Men (1997) – Having glowingly reviewed the Sidney Lumet original last week, I was delighted to see that the remake is available on YouTube. I was even more delighted by the all-star cast – Jack Lemmon, George C. Scott, Ossie Davis, and James Gandolfini, among others. But almost immediately I realized this was a case of a remake which doesn’t do enough to distance itself from the original, nor does it remain slavishly loyal in apparent devotion. Instead, it’s an indistinct reflection of the original, right down to imitative line readings (especially from Tony Danza as Juror #7). While Lemmon does gravitas without even thinking about it, he’s a far cry from Henry Fonda, and even Scott doesn’t improve upon the performance of Lee J. Cobb. Indeed, the only performance which adds something to the film is Mykelti Williamson’s turn as Juror #10; here the white supremacist Ed Begley is replaced by a lapsed member of the Nation of Islam, spouting bigotry against the Hispanic defendant. This clever update, however, is overshadowed by the fact that the film frequently oversimplifies itself, telling instead of showing, as when Juror #3’s bias against the defendant is verbalized instead of implied (as in the original). While it’s in theory a good idea to put contemporary actors into an old classic, when they don’t turn in a new or interesting product, even Juror #12 – straight out of Mad Men – couldn’t sell it to an audience. Stick with the original; this one’s guilty of stagnation.

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

The Other Guys (2010)

Let's have a few more laughs and one more cop film before Depp Week kicks off. Here's the movie that dethroned Inception from its perch at the top of the box office. And while I'm certainly not going to suggest The Other Guys is the stronger film, it's got a lot of laughs, and it's a solid choice for a trip to the theater if you've already seen Inception (sorry, Cats and Dogs 2).

Writer/director Adam McKay continues his series of collaborations with Will Ferrell (a series which began with Anchorman and continued into fellow funny flicks Talladega Nights and Step Brothers, the latter two introducing John C. Reilly to the mix) here, with Ferrell as desk cop Allen Gamble. After the spots for "top cop" are made vacant at the precinct (thanks to clever surprising cameos by Samuel L. Jackson and Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson), Gamble and his partner Terry Hoitz (Mark Wahlberg) find themselves in the running to fill the open celebrity shoes - much to the consternation of their stressed captain (Michael Keaton). Gamble and Hoitz find their big case when a scaffolding permit violation leads them to Gordon Gekko-esque David Ershon (Steve Coogan) and an investment scheme that's skimming money from... well, somebody.

It's been MUFMW [(Mostly) Unintentional Food Metaphor Weekend] here at The Cinema King, and so I'll keep it going by saying that The Other Guys is, like many of Adam McKay's other films, a root beer float: two things at once, both tasty and cohabiting without overpowering each other. We have the root beer of a comedy film here but the ice cream heart of a cop film. And if I can stretch the metaphor a little further, the comedy part (the root beer) runs out first; about halfway through, The Other Guys becomes more of a straightforward police movie (ice cream) without losing sight of the comedy roots that make the first half of the film a gutbuster. That's not to say that the second half is less funny; it's just more cop conscious. Perhaps the best example of this divide is Sam Jackson's presence in the early scenes of the film, providing some of the deepest laughs ("Did someone call 9-1-Holy s**t?") but exiting quickly, leaving the film to be something a little more earnestly police-centric.

Fortunately, all the performers are well-equipped to handle the switch. Though Ferrell is obviously more comfortable with the funny stuff, moments when Gamble grows serious are reminiscent of his stellar turn in Stranger Than Fiction, proving that he's a little better than Michael Cera at switching off the "goofy" setting. Wahlberg, conversely, is more at home as the cop, but he wisely draws on his role as Sgt. Dignam in Scorsese's The Departed (which, if you haven't seen it, is pretty much the greatest movie ever made) to create a compelling police character with a prominent funny bone. Though Coogan is finely restrained (a far cry from Tropic Thunder and Tristram Shandy), the master of comedic timing in the film is Michael Keaton, who's already earned high marks from me for his role as Ken in Toy Story 3; Keaton is fantastic as the exasperated Captain Gene, juggling punchlines about a bisexual DJ son at NYU and a side job as a manager at Bed Bath & Beyond without ever feeling forced. I'm not saying this is an entirely compelling character, but Keaton's delivery certainly prevents the character from feeling like a mere receptacle for outrageous subplot after outlandish character trait. (One final note - is it a rule that Eva Mendes can only appear in cop movies? She's plenty funny as Gamble's "plain" wife, but it's a little jarring that I've only tagged her name in posts about cop movies.)

I want to go back briefly and reexamine the root beer float claim. No, I'm not going to strain the metaphor any more (though you'll probably see the phrase come up several times more on this blog), but I do want to talk a little bit about how movies can be two things at once - and do that well; failure to do so is, after all, one of the most frequently recurring complaints on this blog. I claimed that Anchorman, Talladega Nights, and Step Brothers all do this; Anchorman begins as a slapstick frat pack flick but becomes a commentary on the battle of the sexes, Talladega Nights changes gears between egotistical satire and satire on the cult of celebrity, and Step Brothers lampoons conventional sibling rivalries before metamorphosing (or, as the phrase goes, taking the shape of a unicorn) into a thoughtful meditation on growing up. For some, this can be jarring, but I think McKay's screenplays do a decent job of handling the left-hand turns that I've come to expect - and appreciate - from his work. Kudos, then, Mr. McKay, for doing what I've often said might be impossible. Now if you can get Megan Fox to actually act, then we're in business.

Until then, just keep making funny movies; I'll be in the front row until my sides split.
The Other Guys is rated PG-13 "for crude and sexual content, language, violence and some drug material." I thought it was all pretty tame; there are a few lines between Ferrell and Mendes that push the envelope, and a few sexual jokes crop up, but the most omnipresent objectionable content is the coat of cocaine that envelops Ferrell's red Prius.