Mikey *1/2
I remember watching me some “Mikey” at the tender age of eleven and some details about the film have always stuck with me, electrocutions and bow and arrows and Brian Bonsall from “Family Ties” playing the titular pint sized psychopath. The movie also has some pretty hot looking women in it too which wasn’t something I really noticed on my first go around at 11, but is something that helps tremendously when the movies admirably “getting down to brass tacks” opening slows down a little so we can see Mikey Trenton’s slow burning adolescent psychopath get all heated up for another round of mayhem. Brian Bonsall really elevates things with some foreboding moments here and there where his good manners and eager to please demeanor barely mask the maniac underneath. An IMDb search reveals that Brian Bonsall beat up his girlfriend a couple of years ago and skipped out on a Colorado court date regarding the same and to be honest, I’m not surprised because he’s so good in this role and he looks like a majorly smug little prick, so I guess way to stick with what you know.
Going back to the beginning for a moment, Mikey starts a fire in the basement while his baby sister watches then Mom shows up to slap some sense into Mikey and spirit his little sister away. Mikey talks about how much he hates his mom and his family then he gets mad at his little sister and steals her doll and throws it in the pool. When she steps on the diving board to retrieve the doll Mikey jumps on it so she falls in then he watches her drown, he then goes upstairs and tosses a blow dryer in his mother’s bath then the next shot cuts to him pouring marbles on the kitchen floor while waiting to pounce dear old dad. The payoff for dad’s death scene is great because it leads to a priceless line of dialogue from the detective on the case of Mikey’s family’s mysterious deaths, when the cop sees the father’s bashed in skull and the broken plate glass door he says: “well the door didn’t do that to his head.” The answer is a stunningly obvious “no shit!” but also indicative of the sense of cheesy fun that is missing from the film to make it truly memorable.
In fact, I wish the detective had been a bigger part of the story because it is the only time the movie seems to actively acknowledge how much disbelief we have to suspend in order for the idea of a murderous nine year old to work. It can be done and it can work, but if this guy can be hear to feed off our own misgivings it might make us more apt to enjoy it instead of saying that Mikey is being too ridiculously cold and calculating for a nine-year-old. His first murders seem like a temper tantrum gone awry, I mean he’s smart but it feels different when you don’t see it building up in him the entire time. Some of his calculating moves are kind of amusing, like when he calls a neighbor (Josie Bissett) and puts the phone next to a TV playing one of his filmed murderous rampages, it distracts her long enough that he can go over and kill her boyfriend. I also like how she is set up as the final girl but a simple shove and a “go home Mikey” is actually effective enough to get him to leave. I’ve never seen a less tense final showdown and it’s mainly because I’ve never seen a killer outright give up on someone before. Maybe he really loves her.
Mikey does still manage to take plenty of motherfuckers out though and he even gets tossed around like a rag doll a little bit so you get to see some funny and ultimately ineffective womanhandling of a child. I think "Mikey" has some missed opportunities in that he never imperils other children of his own age. He’s got a buddy that he gets cross with a few times and he never even tries to kill him, but he does steal his pet frog and murder his cat and sneak into his sister’s bedroom. Truthfully, I think killing women is Mikey’s big turn on, killing the men is probably just a necessary evil. In fact, if we were gauging Mikey’s victims by the people who show disdain and disinterest in him first then his body count would only consist of women.
“Mikey” probably isn’t as good as you remember it, but if the fact of it’s existence has ever stuck in your craw then if you’re like me you’re bound to end up watching it again and at least it has some pretty bitches in it that help alleviate the unkindness of time and memory to the movie.
On a more somber note, Mark Venturini, the actor who played the detective died in 1996 and he only had a handful of TV guest spots to his credit so if you ever see this thank him for making it that much more enjoyable. RIP, sir.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
You want this blood? Don't take this "Blood"
Blood: The Last Vampire (2009) [zero]
It’s been a while since I’ve engaged in such an egregious waste of bandwidth that it seems only fair and proper to tell you about it. The movie is a shitfest called “Blood: The Last Vampire” and it’s about a hundreds of years old immortal Japanese schoolgirl named Saya (Gianna, but not the one with naked pictures on the internet---she’s too top heavy for even some obviously CGI’ed stunts) who hunts demons for some mysterious government agency that goes in and cleans up after her when she dispatches ghouls. They also leave containers of blood in the fridge for her. The latest stop on her journey involves a high school on a military base where she kills some snooty blonde bitch and her fat friend while some general’s daughter witnesses it and becomes embroiled in the demon huntresses quest when she goes to confront her fencing/martial arts teacher for leaving her to the wolves. Her teacher and everyone in the bar turns into demons and then for the second time our little Japanese friend saves her ass before we discover she’s looking for a demon named Onegin who killed her guardian. Also, (spoiler) it turns out the demon is her mother, but this aspect is never milked for any grand tragedy.
If you can imagine a movie like this being awesome then I’d really like to see your version because what I saw wasn’t awesome in the least. It is perhaps the most pedestrian route you could take with a premise like this. There were moments that reminded me of “Versus” and “Underworld: Evolution” and while those films certainly vary in quality from pretty damn good to braindead kind of fun, it only succeeded in making me wish that I were watching either of those films instead. It also, made me sad that so few movies get to live up to their title. When I see a movie called “Blood: The Last Vampire” I want a film that feels definitive, like the last word in vampire movies with killer showdowns and martial arts fights but what you get from director Chris Nahon is a film that lacks any real energy, has a few cheap retreads like the confrontation with the winged creature on the mountainside road (the aforementioned “Underworld: Evolution” rip-off) and the samurai showdown in the forest (“Versus”) that somehow incorporates a childhood flashback that makes the scene hilarious. I liked the high energy of Chris Nahon’s “Kiss of the Dragon” with Jet Li, but I think a crucial missing ingredient to multi-national crossover success is the Luc Besson/ Robert Mark Kamen factor. Usually the two of them are only credited as screenwriters but perhaps they have more creative control than we imagine, even a misfire on par with “Transporter 2” has some energy and boasts production values that make it easier to label as something other than some sort of SyFy Channel product that accidentally got a somewhat small theatrical showing. “Blood: The Last Vampire” certainly boasts some incredible TV movie quality demon effects.
Also, the acting is not very good. Gianna’s english is terrible and there are plenty of other so-so performances and lots of older dudes that look like they’ve played politicians in crappy DTV stuff, but no one tries to do one single interesting thing with their characters. Maybe Chris Nahon doesn’t know English and the cast couldn’t communicate with him so nobody could spitball ideas to make things better so people kind of did their own thing and hoped all the elements gelled together in the final product, I don’t know for sure but if that is the approach they took then it cretainly didn’t work. And if they thought they had something good and just rolled with it then that too was a fail. This is not a good movie, I would not recommend that you see it on cable nor do I even feel the urge to recommend it for the completist who must see every Asian schoolgirl uniform available. I think perhaps it could cure your insomnia, but that’s about it.
It’s been a while since I’ve engaged in such an egregious waste of bandwidth that it seems only fair and proper to tell you about it. The movie is a shitfest called “Blood: The Last Vampire” and it’s about a hundreds of years old immortal Japanese schoolgirl named Saya (Gianna, but not the one with naked pictures on the internet---she’s too top heavy for even some obviously CGI’ed stunts) who hunts demons for some mysterious government agency that goes in and cleans up after her when she dispatches ghouls. They also leave containers of blood in the fridge for her. The latest stop on her journey involves a high school on a military base where she kills some snooty blonde bitch and her fat friend while some general’s daughter witnesses it and becomes embroiled in the demon huntresses quest when she goes to confront her fencing/martial arts teacher for leaving her to the wolves. Her teacher and everyone in the bar turns into demons and then for the second time our little Japanese friend saves her ass before we discover she’s looking for a demon named Onegin who killed her guardian. Also, (spoiler) it turns out the demon is her mother, but this aspect is never milked for any grand tragedy.
If you can imagine a movie like this being awesome then I’d really like to see your version because what I saw wasn’t awesome in the least. It is perhaps the most pedestrian route you could take with a premise like this. There were moments that reminded me of “Versus” and “Underworld: Evolution” and while those films certainly vary in quality from pretty damn good to braindead kind of fun, it only succeeded in making me wish that I were watching either of those films instead. It also, made me sad that so few movies get to live up to their title. When I see a movie called “Blood: The Last Vampire” I want a film that feels definitive, like the last word in vampire movies with killer showdowns and martial arts fights but what you get from director Chris Nahon is a film that lacks any real energy, has a few cheap retreads like the confrontation with the winged creature on the mountainside road (the aforementioned “Underworld: Evolution” rip-off) and the samurai showdown in the forest (“Versus”) that somehow incorporates a childhood flashback that makes the scene hilarious. I liked the high energy of Chris Nahon’s “Kiss of the Dragon” with Jet Li, but I think a crucial missing ingredient to multi-national crossover success is the Luc Besson/ Robert Mark Kamen factor. Usually the two of them are only credited as screenwriters but perhaps they have more creative control than we imagine, even a misfire on par with “Transporter 2” has some energy and boasts production values that make it easier to label as something other than some sort of SyFy Channel product that accidentally got a somewhat small theatrical showing. “Blood: The Last Vampire” certainly boasts some incredible TV movie quality demon effects.
Also, the acting is not very good. Gianna’s english is terrible and there are plenty of other so-so performances and lots of older dudes that look like they’ve played politicians in crappy DTV stuff, but no one tries to do one single interesting thing with their characters. Maybe Chris Nahon doesn’t know English and the cast couldn’t communicate with him so nobody could spitball ideas to make things better so people kind of did their own thing and hoped all the elements gelled together in the final product, I don’t know for sure but if that is the approach they took then it cretainly didn’t work. And if they thought they had something good and just rolled with it then that too was a fail. This is not a good movie, I would not recommend that you see it on cable nor do I even feel the urge to recommend it for the completist who must see every Asian schoolgirl uniform available. I think perhaps it could cure your insomnia, but that’s about it.
Monday, April 20, 2009
One is about money in the bank...the other one is
The International [**]/ State of Play (2009) [****]
Watching “State of Play” and “The International” on the same weekend is an instructive lesson in how to make the most of your premise and well…how to not. That’s not to say that the lesser film “The International” is awful just that at the end of the day it is bracingly irrelevant. In a time, when financial institutions fail us left and right and insurance companies like AIG are performing suspect business practices the movie doesn’t do much to stoke the fires of righteous indignation.
Louis Salinger (Clive Owen) is an Interpol agent perilously close to nailing a bank CEO for funding/funnelling funds for terrorist activites and, this could be something I missed but the key difference between this film and “State of Play” is that the money may be going directly to terror cells whereas “State of Play”’s intrigue involves the privatization of the military and whether or not a Congressman’s aide’s murder has anything to do with his crusade against a private contractor.
Louis works with a Manhattan DA named Eleanor Whitman (Naomi Watts) to help bring the bank down after an investigative colleague dies after meeting with an informant poised to give the details that will blow the case wide open. Most of the pieces are already in play and the film wastes very little time in tying up its loose ends which includes political assassination and assassin assassination. The latter act taking place in the Guggenheim in a dizzying but breathtaking action setpiece that merits the consideration of Tom Tykwer to helm a 007 picture. Even better is the satisfying bloodiness of the sequence, a necessity since the film otherwise fails to work the audience up into a lather.
It’s a nicely helmed, nicely paced and even nicely acted, Watts and Owen never fail to captivate and even Owen and Brotherhood’s Brian F. O’Bryne make a nice odd couple buddy cop/avengers act. But the problem is that I keep using the word nice and rarely using words like breathtaking or satisfying. That action scene though could give some good speakers a workout and if you’ve got about ten minutes to kill that shootout really is a thing of beauty. Escapism so relevant it’s irrelevant.
“State of Play” directed by Kevin McDonald is the kind of muscular picture you should rightly hope for when you’ve got so damn many talented individuals working on any one thing.
As I’ve said before, a Congressman’s aide is murdered, he’s persecuting a private military firm and his reaction to his aide’s death is just emotional enough that people are starting to see a story in the reaction. The congressman is Stephen Collins (Ben Affleck), the new hero on the hill until this latest tragedy and his greatest ally is former college roommate Cal McCaffrey (Russell Crowe) who despite angling for a story seeks the truth more than a headline. Along the way, Cal alternately butts heads with and molds into a bonafide journalist a gossip blogger named Della (Rachel McAdams).
Starting with a youth taking a fatal bullet and another passerby being hospitalized, the questions pile up when secrets about the aide are discovered and a couple more too convenient bodies show up. Maybe you’ll be playing the guessing game, but you might just be riveted by the cast: Helen Mirren is great as a no-nonsense ball busting editor, Russell Crowe does what seems like his millionth effortless and commanding performance in a row while the less seasoned but not untalented Rachel McAdams and tv stalwart Michael Jace of “The Shield” mange to hold their own and make distinct impressions just the same. Last working as the director of 2007s “Gone Baby Gone,” Ben Affleck brings the effortless charisma I admire him for to the role of an impassioned, compassionate man burdened by too damn many mistakes. It’s the kind of role that suits him better than a starring vehicle, though I’ll confess to having missed him only once theatrically since 1997s “Good Will Hunting,” and makes me wonder for how much longer the cinematic atonement of Ben Affleck must continue.
Having seen the first two hours of the British mini, the first hour of “State of Play” is a faithful approximation of the original and with five hours left of the British version I can only imagine and will probably later attest that the 2009 film is a model of efficiency that doesn’t waste a breath in telling its story. Adding to the unqualified success of the film is the screenwriting efforts of Billy Ray, Tony Gilroy and Matthew Michael Carnahan the respective writers of “Shattered Glass,” “Michael Clayton” and “The Kingdom.” It’s quite easy to feel their stamps on the final product as Ray brings an understanding of the tension inherent in newsroom dynamics while Gilroy’s “Michael Clayton” leaves you feeling a little hollowed out at the hard fought victories that don’t make you feel any better at the end. Carnahan has played the politics game in “Lions for Lambs” and to a lesser extent in “The Kingdom” but the film’s final moments are of the breathless what’s going to happen next nature of “The Kingdom.” It’s a beautiful convergence of screenwriters and for that matter actors, directors and editors.
Watching “State of Play” and “The International” on the same weekend is an instructive lesson in how to make the most of your premise and well…how to not. That’s not to say that the lesser film “The International” is awful just that at the end of the day it is bracingly irrelevant. In a time, when financial institutions fail us left and right and insurance companies like AIG are performing suspect business practices the movie doesn’t do much to stoke the fires of righteous indignation.
Louis Salinger (Clive Owen) is an Interpol agent perilously close to nailing a bank CEO for funding/funnelling funds for terrorist activites and, this could be something I missed but the key difference between this film and “State of Play” is that the money may be going directly to terror cells whereas “State of Play”’s intrigue involves the privatization of the military and whether or not a Congressman’s aide’s murder has anything to do with his crusade against a private contractor.
Louis works with a Manhattan DA named Eleanor Whitman (Naomi Watts) to help bring the bank down after an investigative colleague dies after meeting with an informant poised to give the details that will blow the case wide open. Most of the pieces are already in play and the film wastes very little time in tying up its loose ends which includes political assassination and assassin assassination. The latter act taking place in the Guggenheim in a dizzying but breathtaking action setpiece that merits the consideration of Tom Tykwer to helm a 007 picture. Even better is the satisfying bloodiness of the sequence, a necessity since the film otherwise fails to work the audience up into a lather.
It’s a nicely helmed, nicely paced and even nicely acted, Watts and Owen never fail to captivate and even Owen and Brotherhood’s Brian F. O’Bryne make a nice odd couple buddy cop/avengers act. But the problem is that I keep using the word nice and rarely using words like breathtaking or satisfying. That action scene though could give some good speakers a workout and if you’ve got about ten minutes to kill that shootout really is a thing of beauty. Escapism so relevant it’s irrelevant.
“State of Play” directed by Kevin McDonald is the kind of muscular picture you should rightly hope for when you’ve got so damn many talented individuals working on any one thing.
As I’ve said before, a Congressman’s aide is murdered, he’s persecuting a private military firm and his reaction to his aide’s death is just emotional enough that people are starting to see a story in the reaction. The congressman is Stephen Collins (Ben Affleck), the new hero on the hill until this latest tragedy and his greatest ally is former college roommate Cal McCaffrey (Russell Crowe) who despite angling for a story seeks the truth more than a headline. Along the way, Cal alternately butts heads with and molds into a bonafide journalist a gossip blogger named Della (Rachel McAdams).
Starting with a youth taking a fatal bullet and another passerby being hospitalized, the questions pile up when secrets about the aide are discovered and a couple more too convenient bodies show up. Maybe you’ll be playing the guessing game, but you might just be riveted by the cast: Helen Mirren is great as a no-nonsense ball busting editor, Russell Crowe does what seems like his millionth effortless and commanding performance in a row while the less seasoned but not untalented Rachel McAdams and tv stalwart Michael Jace of “The Shield” mange to hold their own and make distinct impressions just the same. Last working as the director of 2007s “Gone Baby Gone,” Ben Affleck brings the effortless charisma I admire him for to the role of an impassioned, compassionate man burdened by too damn many mistakes. It’s the kind of role that suits him better than a starring vehicle, though I’ll confess to having missed him only once theatrically since 1997s “Good Will Hunting,” and makes me wonder for how much longer the cinematic atonement of Ben Affleck must continue.
Having seen the first two hours of the British mini, the first hour of “State of Play” is a faithful approximation of the original and with five hours left of the British version I can only imagine and will probably later attest that the 2009 film is a model of efficiency that doesn’t waste a breath in telling its story. Adding to the unqualified success of the film is the screenwriting efforts of Billy Ray, Tony Gilroy and Matthew Michael Carnahan the respective writers of “Shattered Glass,” “Michael Clayton” and “The Kingdom.” It’s quite easy to feel their stamps on the final product as Ray brings an understanding of the tension inherent in newsroom dynamics while Gilroy’s “Michael Clayton” leaves you feeling a little hollowed out at the hard fought victories that don’t make you feel any better at the end. Carnahan has played the politics game in “Lions for Lambs” and to a lesser extent in “The Kingdom” but the film’s final moments are of the breathless what’s going to happen next nature of “The Kingdom.” It’s a beautiful convergence of screenwriters and for that matter actors, directors and editors.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Uncomfortable stirrings from within and without
Adventureland [****]
Almost always favoring the subtle chuckle over the huge guffaw, Greg Mottola’s “Adventureland” finds itself in the company of recent excellent films “Superbad” and “Nick and Norah’s Inifinite Playlist” about how we wear our insecurities on our sleeves and, at least, in the case of the latter how often we let our hearts fail us. Choosing instead to be merely okay rather than take the plunge that fulfills our heart’s desires.
James (Jesse Eisenberg) is a recent college graduate who finds his life’s path pre-grad school altered ever so slightly when his father’s demotion forces him to get a summer job at an amusement park populated by archetypes such as the slutty chick (Margarita Levia as Lisa P), the Russian author obssessed nerd (Martin Starr), the damaged girl attracted to all the wrong guys (Kristen Stewart, finally, ideally cast as Em), the married handyman (Ryan Reynolds) who is having an affair with the object of the hero’s burgeoning attraction, the douche, the married couple that manage the park (Bill Hader and Kristen Wiig) and, most importantly, the guy who punches people in the cock (Matt Bush). Anyone who has ever had a job before can recognize these archetypes, but anyone who has ever lived and breathed a job will appreciate the humanity that writer/director Mottola infuses each of these characters with. It’s helpful to recognize a type from a mile away, but to be reminded what it’s like to stand on the precipice of the twilight of youth and the spring of an uncertain adulthood is another thing altogether that not many writers/directors seem capable of capturing as we get older, more cynical and further removed from the wonderful, unobtainable simplicity of life that we once knew.
A couple of moments each involving our hero’s interaction with rivals to affection: Lisa P, who oozes sex but is rumored to be as pure as the virgin snow, reveals her greatest weakness to be her concern for her injured father and Connell, the married handyman who sees Em on the sly, offers advice on conversational dos and donts of first dates to James who is currently seeing Em. Shows not only a reverence for the memories of the time, anyone with a personality or name is impossible to paint as a villain, but understands that sometimes not every flaw is everyone’s problem. In some circles our greatest failings might be our inability to keep a secret or our zippers zipped. One thing the film does and maybe more so in the case of Connell than anyone else is compartmentalize. Lisa P sees Em as the villain in the Connell situation, a homewrecker while everybody else seems to be in silent agreement that Connell can’t be blamed because men are hardwired to fuck. Perhaps these concessions are made because nobody wants Connell to be the villain—he’s a nice guy. In fact, they’re all nice people.
Connell is one of the film’s two outright appeals to nostalgia. Proof that you can grow older, have responsibilities but keep that kick ass job of no particular importance and swim in a sea of meaningless sex…until it comes crashing around you. Then there’s Frigo the guy who punches people in the dick. He’s always doing it and sometimes even more immature things than that. He’s the guy who hasn’t made it to the “D” section of the dictionary so he doesn’t know what the word delusional means, but he hasn’t even realized things are changing enough that they can be missed. Either way, his dick punches facilitate a stirring within you that you don’t always feel but when it comes about it’s intense and when it’s gone all you want is to feel it again. That’s right, dick punches as a metaphor for the pangs of nostalgia deal with it.
Greg Motolla’s “Adventureland” is the first truly great purely 2009 release. It understands a few things about longing and the unattainable. Understands even more the pure invaluability of memories and what a good bit of regression does for those who really need it.
Observe and Report [***]
“Observe and Report” is a lot like the dick puncher in “Adventureland” that shit isn’t right but what it evokes is an honest to goodness uncomfortable stirring within you. Ronnie Barnhardt (Seth Rogen) is a deeply delusional security guard at a shopping mall who finds the exploits of a local mall flasher to be his ticket to the big time. In this case, big time means a lot of things: he’ll catch the pervert, win the respect of the local cops and become one, win the heart of the sluttiest girl in the mall (Anna Farris) and all will be right with the world. Ronnie’s got two problems, though: himself and the detective (Ray Liotta) assigned to the case who doesn’t appreciate Ronnie’s impeding his investigation every step of the way.
“Observe and Report,” like most recent comedies, exists in a world just south of reality where a guy can blow a pervert away in the climactic showdown while his boss looks on approvingly and tosses him the keys to the kingdom as the guy lays in a heap on the floor. People do heroin on the clock and skateboarding punks are beaten within an inch of their lives by overzealous security. You should try your best not to be surprised when I tell you there is a scene where security guards wax hopeful about being able to carry guns instead of tazers as they fetishistically polish phallus like guns. Note also that they are cracker jack shots who go for the head, heart and genitals always.
The laughs in the film aren’t the fast and furious kind you come to expect from the Apatow gang, but the kind of laughter you elicit because you don’t really know how else to react. It’s your deepest darkest fantasies brought to vivid, ugly life but it’s honest and for ninety minutes we get to forget about the crippling burdens of social contracts and we can laugh at the horror of swinging dicks in a mall, delusional psychos in a superhero drama (trauma?) of their own making. Still, the film isn’t without an irresistible romantic impulse upon discovering that the wheelchair bound coffee girl in the food court has been ridiculed to the brink by her boss, Ronnie threatens him with death and it’s a fantastic example of the one thing in the movie that is far from dead: chivalry. Ronnie is a loving son and a gallant protector, but it’s the kind of chivalry you don’t want to be on the wrong side of. Maybe I was wrong about the social contracts being burdensome perhaps we’ve just run out of reasons to uphold them or people crazy enough to do it.
Almost always favoring the subtle chuckle over the huge guffaw, Greg Mottola’s “Adventureland” finds itself in the company of recent excellent films “Superbad” and “Nick and Norah’s Inifinite Playlist” about how we wear our insecurities on our sleeves and, at least, in the case of the latter how often we let our hearts fail us. Choosing instead to be merely okay rather than take the plunge that fulfills our heart’s desires.
James (Jesse Eisenberg) is a recent college graduate who finds his life’s path pre-grad school altered ever so slightly when his father’s demotion forces him to get a summer job at an amusement park populated by archetypes such as the slutty chick (Margarita Levia as Lisa P), the Russian author obssessed nerd (Martin Starr), the damaged girl attracted to all the wrong guys (Kristen Stewart, finally, ideally cast as Em), the married handyman (Ryan Reynolds) who is having an affair with the object of the hero’s burgeoning attraction, the douche, the married couple that manage the park (Bill Hader and Kristen Wiig) and, most importantly, the guy who punches people in the cock (Matt Bush). Anyone who has ever had a job before can recognize these archetypes, but anyone who has ever lived and breathed a job will appreciate the humanity that writer/director Mottola infuses each of these characters with. It’s helpful to recognize a type from a mile away, but to be reminded what it’s like to stand on the precipice of the twilight of youth and the spring of an uncertain adulthood is another thing altogether that not many writers/directors seem capable of capturing as we get older, more cynical and further removed from the wonderful, unobtainable simplicity of life that we once knew.
A couple of moments each involving our hero’s interaction with rivals to affection: Lisa P, who oozes sex but is rumored to be as pure as the virgin snow, reveals her greatest weakness to be her concern for her injured father and Connell, the married handyman who sees Em on the sly, offers advice on conversational dos and donts of first dates to James who is currently seeing Em. Shows not only a reverence for the memories of the time, anyone with a personality or name is impossible to paint as a villain, but understands that sometimes not every flaw is everyone’s problem. In some circles our greatest failings might be our inability to keep a secret or our zippers zipped. One thing the film does and maybe more so in the case of Connell than anyone else is compartmentalize. Lisa P sees Em as the villain in the Connell situation, a homewrecker while everybody else seems to be in silent agreement that Connell can’t be blamed because men are hardwired to fuck. Perhaps these concessions are made because nobody wants Connell to be the villain—he’s a nice guy. In fact, they’re all nice people.
Connell is one of the film’s two outright appeals to nostalgia. Proof that you can grow older, have responsibilities but keep that kick ass job of no particular importance and swim in a sea of meaningless sex…until it comes crashing around you. Then there’s Frigo the guy who punches people in the dick. He’s always doing it and sometimes even more immature things than that. He’s the guy who hasn’t made it to the “D” section of the dictionary so he doesn’t know what the word delusional means, but he hasn’t even realized things are changing enough that they can be missed. Either way, his dick punches facilitate a stirring within you that you don’t always feel but when it comes about it’s intense and when it’s gone all you want is to feel it again. That’s right, dick punches as a metaphor for the pangs of nostalgia deal with it.
Greg Motolla’s “Adventureland” is the first truly great purely 2009 release. It understands a few things about longing and the unattainable. Understands even more the pure invaluability of memories and what a good bit of regression does for those who really need it.
Observe and Report [***]
“Observe and Report” is a lot like the dick puncher in “Adventureland” that shit isn’t right but what it evokes is an honest to goodness uncomfortable stirring within you. Ronnie Barnhardt (Seth Rogen) is a deeply delusional security guard at a shopping mall who finds the exploits of a local mall flasher to be his ticket to the big time. In this case, big time means a lot of things: he’ll catch the pervert, win the respect of the local cops and become one, win the heart of the sluttiest girl in the mall (Anna Farris) and all will be right with the world. Ronnie’s got two problems, though: himself and the detective (Ray Liotta) assigned to the case who doesn’t appreciate Ronnie’s impeding his investigation every step of the way.
“Observe and Report,” like most recent comedies, exists in a world just south of reality where a guy can blow a pervert away in the climactic showdown while his boss looks on approvingly and tosses him the keys to the kingdom as the guy lays in a heap on the floor. People do heroin on the clock and skateboarding punks are beaten within an inch of their lives by overzealous security. You should try your best not to be surprised when I tell you there is a scene where security guards wax hopeful about being able to carry guns instead of tazers as they fetishistically polish phallus like guns. Note also that they are cracker jack shots who go for the head, heart and genitals always.
The laughs in the film aren’t the fast and furious kind you come to expect from the Apatow gang, but the kind of laughter you elicit because you don’t really know how else to react. It’s your deepest darkest fantasies brought to vivid, ugly life but it’s honest and for ninety minutes we get to forget about the crippling burdens of social contracts and we can laugh at the horror of swinging dicks in a mall, delusional psychos in a superhero drama (trauma?) of their own making. Still, the film isn’t without an irresistible romantic impulse upon discovering that the wheelchair bound coffee girl in the food court has been ridiculed to the brink by her boss, Ronnie threatens him with death and it’s a fantastic example of the one thing in the movie that is far from dead: chivalry. Ronnie is a loving son and a gallant protector, but it’s the kind of chivalry you don’t want to be on the wrong side of. Maybe I was wrong about the social contracts being burdensome perhaps we’ve just run out of reasons to uphold them or people crazy enough to do it.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
For the children and because of them...
The Children (2008) [*]
How the hell is is that one does not like movies about killer children? Who can resist those mischievous grins when they're party to some real balls to the wall trouble like murder. Does anybody remember when Brian Bonsall of "Family Ties" took it to the house as a bow and arrow brandishing, throw a radio in the pool/hot tub certified psychopath? Maybe it's because I was a kid, but it was terrifying then and even now I have a cousin who looks eerily similar to the kid from "The Omen" remake and I dread the moments when he yanks my facial hair. Remember "The Children of the Corn" or Leif Garrett in "Devil Times Five"? Well take all those memories and hold on to them a little tighter because the Brits are about to fuck all those memories in the ass with "The Children."
Running only a scant 76 minutes, but paced and executed like it lasts as many years is set in the British countryside during Christmas and involves two families getting together, lots of screaming ass little bastards (home schooled, spoiled and nurtured in a frankly faggotty "no hitting zone"), almost as many stupid adults and one poorly reasoned explanation for why the kids are suddenly bloodthristy killers. I'll try and explain.
A little girl named Leah is sick, she's hanging out with her cousins and they cough on shit and share toys, people scream and another little girl coughs and wipes her findings on the pillow next to her, the camera zooms in on the stain and we see microbes or bacteria swimming all about. There's also the magical 99.6 on your radio dial which may or may not be a trigger for these children to start killing and then there's a scene where Leah slams a toy down repeatedly and stabs it while we cut to another child doing the very same thing to her own mother. Psychic link, radio trigger, mysterious disease? Why not all of them? It'll be more chilling if we don't explain it.
Also, everytime one of these kids runs around screaming, their parents come running to check on their children. A particularly stupid moment involves a kid named Paulie (the annoying, ugly William Howes) screaming on the monkey bars. His mom runs over to help him and as she reaches out to grab him, he keeps backing up and she keeps following him. He kicks her and she gets tangled up in the jungle gym and breaks her leg. Have any of these people for a second ever used their brain and said, "I don't want to deal with you when you're like this and just walked away?" It's a simple trick, if a kid feels like they're in danger of you ignoring them they'll change their strategy and/or behave. They might be old enough to kill you, but they're still young enough they don't want to be alienated from you yet. I can't vouch that these tricks will work on psychotic children, but they have obviously never been ignored before and it might shock the shit out of them.
Dinner table misbehavior is part of an elaborate scheme to get one of the adults alone outside and onto a sled so they can place a wagon just so that he can get his scalp ripped off by the gardening tool sticking out of the side as he sleds past. It's not exactly as visceral a moment as it could be, but Paul Hyett's F/X are a pleasant surprise-- child impalings, a skin flap that oozes blood when lifted and a nice broken leg are the highlights. Sadly, the film is edited to within an inch of it's life. Cutting away at the wrong time or providing pay offs a few scenes past their prime effectiveness.
Not every horror film can be a winner, but few waste their premise as soundly as "The Children."
Last House on the Left (2009) [***]
Another Wes Craven film hits it big in the remake sweepstakes. "The Last House on the Left" is the story of a vacationing family pushed to the limits over the course of a single day and night when they come face to face with a murderous gang seeking shelter from a storm only to walk smack into the middle of another one.
Krug (Garrett Dillahunt) is freed from police custody when his girlfriend and brother crash into the vehicle transporting him. The coppers are brutally put out of their misery and then the action cuts to the next day when the aforementioned vacationing family The Collingwood's (pa Tony Goldwyn, ma Monica Potter and daughter Sara Paxton) who after a hectic few months are looking forward to some peace and quiet out in the middle of nowhere.
Sensing that her parents haven't had much time alone together Mari (Paxton) offers to get lost with her friend Paige (Martha MacIsaac) who unwisely opts to buy some weed from a shoplifter in the store she works at, unwisely opts to stay at his motel room and get stoned and unwisely opts to get bled like a stuck pig (against her will) when we find out the dealer's father is our opening credits psychopath Krug.
"The Last House on the Left" resorts to pulling no punches early on, the early murder of the police officers is brutal and in a recurring bit Krug teases his victims with comforting images; as he strangles one cop, he dangles a photo of his children in front of him and when he kills Paige he insists that Megan offer her comfort as she dies because "her friend needs her." Dillahunt whom you might know from "Deadwood" or "Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles" is good at conveying a sort of robotic menace (I mean that as a compliment). He knows only to perform an act, every word seems calculated to lead to a certain end. Words, he understands, are a trigger and can lead to violence. Any sort of physical reaction or movement is designed to inflict pain and/or fulfill what would be a biological imperative in a normal person but is, in him, rote memorization learned from watching people interact.
When I watch films about civilized people getting righteously Medieval on the asses of their oppressors like "The Hills Have Eyes" or "Hostel" it seems like every moment is calculated to get the audience standing up and cheering by the time the hero fights back ("The Hills Have Eyes" screening I attended three years ago, elicited some cheers when Doug vanquished his first mutant baddie, come to think of it people liked it when the dog killed some of those the mutants as well) or at the very least feeling a catharsis of some sort. "The Last House on the Left" elicits what could arguably be called the correct response for a movie like this. The villains are not mutated creatures or businessmen who pay to torture but a regular roving band of psychopaths and an innocent(ish) kid. We witness things that make us want to want these people dead, but we feel hollow and nasty at the end just the same. No vindication only shame.
There are times when we die right alongside Mari spoiler! After her frank and brutal rape at the hands of Krug and watching her friend bleed to death the soundtrack is pierced only by silence, an intense disquiet haunts the audience as Mari summons the courage to run, she strikes Krug with a rock and she's off end spoiler! We see Mari taking broad strokes as she hits the water, successfully escaping, and the power of the image of the ocean as a symbol of woman, rebirth is not lost upon us then the bullet hits her in the back. We know this doesn't kill her from the trailers, but Iliadis' ability to dash our hopes so completely, to destroy the power of a symbol and never offer the proper victim a chance to fight back can't be denied. To that end, how effectively this picture utilizes cruelty is actually a plus.
Another way in which Iliadis' picture succeeds is in how it makes us feel complicit not just as people watching, but by having the Collingwood's execute a man together. Everything they do is not quiet enough to kill him; they have to improvise and when they fail to drown him in the sink they turn on the garbage disposal to mangle his hands and finally bury a hammer in his skull. Who knew it would take so much effort to kill a man? The implicit suggestion is that our darkest impulses are best left in the farthest corners of ourselves and to expose them with others, whatever the circumstance, is to expose the most shameful parts of ourselves.
How the hell is is that one does not like movies about killer children? Who can resist those mischievous grins when they're party to some real balls to the wall trouble like murder. Does anybody remember when Brian Bonsall of "Family Ties" took it to the house as a bow and arrow brandishing, throw a radio in the pool/hot tub certified psychopath? Maybe it's because I was a kid, but it was terrifying then and even now I have a cousin who looks eerily similar to the kid from "The Omen" remake and I dread the moments when he yanks my facial hair. Remember "The Children of the Corn" or Leif Garrett in "Devil Times Five"? Well take all those memories and hold on to them a little tighter because the Brits are about to fuck all those memories in the ass with "The Children."
Running only a scant 76 minutes, but paced and executed like it lasts as many years is set in the British countryside during Christmas and involves two families getting together, lots of screaming ass little bastards (home schooled, spoiled and nurtured in a frankly faggotty "no hitting zone"), almost as many stupid adults and one poorly reasoned explanation for why the kids are suddenly bloodthristy killers. I'll try and explain.
A little girl named Leah is sick, she's hanging out with her cousins and they cough on shit and share toys, people scream and another little girl coughs and wipes her findings on the pillow next to her, the camera zooms in on the stain and we see microbes or bacteria swimming all about. There's also the magical 99.6 on your radio dial which may or may not be a trigger for these children to start killing and then there's a scene where Leah slams a toy down repeatedly and stabs it while we cut to another child doing the very same thing to her own mother. Psychic link, radio trigger, mysterious disease? Why not all of them? It'll be more chilling if we don't explain it.
Also, everytime one of these kids runs around screaming, their parents come running to check on their children. A particularly stupid moment involves a kid named Paulie (the annoying, ugly William Howes) screaming on the monkey bars. His mom runs over to help him and as she reaches out to grab him, he keeps backing up and she keeps following him. He kicks her and she gets tangled up in the jungle gym and breaks her leg. Have any of these people for a second ever used their brain and said, "I don't want to deal with you when you're like this and just walked away?" It's a simple trick, if a kid feels like they're in danger of you ignoring them they'll change their strategy and/or behave. They might be old enough to kill you, but they're still young enough they don't want to be alienated from you yet. I can't vouch that these tricks will work on psychotic children, but they have obviously never been ignored before and it might shock the shit out of them.
Dinner table misbehavior is part of an elaborate scheme to get one of the adults alone outside and onto a sled so they can place a wagon just so that he can get his scalp ripped off by the gardening tool sticking out of the side as he sleds past. It's not exactly as visceral a moment as it could be, but Paul Hyett's F/X are a pleasant surprise-- child impalings, a skin flap that oozes blood when lifted and a nice broken leg are the highlights. Sadly, the film is edited to within an inch of it's life. Cutting away at the wrong time or providing pay offs a few scenes past their prime effectiveness.
Not every horror film can be a winner, but few waste their premise as soundly as "The Children."
Last House on the Left (2009) [***]
Another Wes Craven film hits it big in the remake sweepstakes. "The Last House on the Left" is the story of a vacationing family pushed to the limits over the course of a single day and night when they come face to face with a murderous gang seeking shelter from a storm only to walk smack into the middle of another one.
Krug (Garrett Dillahunt) is freed from police custody when his girlfriend and brother crash into the vehicle transporting him. The coppers are brutally put out of their misery and then the action cuts to the next day when the aforementioned vacationing family The Collingwood's (pa Tony Goldwyn, ma Monica Potter and daughter Sara Paxton) who after a hectic few months are looking forward to some peace and quiet out in the middle of nowhere.
Sensing that her parents haven't had much time alone together Mari (Paxton) offers to get lost with her friend Paige (Martha MacIsaac) who unwisely opts to buy some weed from a shoplifter in the store she works at, unwisely opts to stay at his motel room and get stoned and unwisely opts to get bled like a stuck pig (against her will) when we find out the dealer's father is our opening credits psychopath Krug.
"The Last House on the Left" resorts to pulling no punches early on, the early murder of the police officers is brutal and in a recurring bit Krug teases his victims with comforting images; as he strangles one cop, he dangles a photo of his children in front of him and when he kills Paige he insists that Megan offer her comfort as she dies because "her friend needs her." Dillahunt whom you might know from "Deadwood" or "Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles" is good at conveying a sort of robotic menace (I mean that as a compliment). He knows only to perform an act, every word seems calculated to lead to a certain end. Words, he understands, are a trigger and can lead to violence. Any sort of physical reaction or movement is designed to inflict pain and/or fulfill what would be a biological imperative in a normal person but is, in him, rote memorization learned from watching people interact.
When I watch films about civilized people getting righteously Medieval on the asses of their oppressors like "The Hills Have Eyes" or "Hostel" it seems like every moment is calculated to get the audience standing up and cheering by the time the hero fights back ("The Hills Have Eyes" screening I attended three years ago, elicited some cheers when Doug vanquished his first mutant baddie, come to think of it people liked it when the dog killed some of those the mutants as well) or at the very least feeling a catharsis of some sort. "The Last House on the Left" elicits what could arguably be called the correct response for a movie like this. The villains are not mutated creatures or businessmen who pay to torture but a regular roving band of psychopaths and an innocent(ish) kid. We witness things that make us want to want these people dead, but we feel hollow and nasty at the end just the same. No vindication only shame.
There are times when we die right alongside Mari spoiler! After her frank and brutal rape at the hands of Krug and watching her friend bleed to death the soundtrack is pierced only by silence, an intense disquiet haunts the audience as Mari summons the courage to run, she strikes Krug with a rock and she's off end spoiler! We see Mari taking broad strokes as she hits the water, successfully escaping, and the power of the image of the ocean as a symbol of woman, rebirth is not lost upon us then the bullet hits her in the back. We know this doesn't kill her from the trailers, but Iliadis' ability to dash our hopes so completely, to destroy the power of a symbol and never offer the proper victim a chance to fight back can't be denied. To that end, how effectively this picture utilizes cruelty is actually a plus.
Another way in which Iliadis' picture succeeds is in how it makes us feel complicit not just as people watching, but by having the Collingwood's execute a man together. Everything they do is not quiet enough to kill him; they have to improvise and when they fail to drown him in the sink they turn on the garbage disposal to mangle his hands and finally bury a hammer in his skull. Who knew it would take so much effort to kill a man? The implicit suggestion is that our darkest impulses are best left in the farthest corners of ourselves and to expose them with others, whatever the circumstance, is to expose the most shameful parts of ourselves.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Feast III: The Happy Finish [***]
After a lackluster second entry the gang that brought us “Feast” is back in top form with the third chapter of the trilogy-- a relatively brief entry that hits the ground running and made me realize “Feast II” was the breather and connective tissue we needed for an admittedly bizarre and kick ass sequel/possible finale. A few of the things set up in part two pay dividends in this entry—such as alien hybrids and pipes through the head—but a lot of the unexpected rears it’s head.
Doing their level best to survive the onslaught that started at the end of the last film our motley gang nails a few beasts then hole up in the town jail they tried unsuccessfully to occupy in the previous film. Therein they meet a survivalist named Shitkicker (John Allen Nelson, sublime) before things turn ugly and they vow to take the fight to the creatures. The gang befriends and escape to the sewers with a prophet named Short Bus Gus, who may or may not be able to control and communicate with the aliens.
In order to avoid spoiling a few truly great surprises I’ll tell you that a bizarre subculture exists down there in addition to the monsters and leave it at that, but I will tell you that the humor while keeping with the grand tradition of being “so not right” is actually funny again. My least favorite joke from the second film where a guy named Greg Swank sacrifices a baby to save himself has a long, irony laden and pretty damn funny pay-off where Greg lives through most of this film with a pipe sticking through his head and he’s disoriented, all his dialogue is unintelligible and subtitled and he thinks the surviving midget luchador from the last film is the baby he killed and this is his shot at redemption.
When I saw “Feast” in 2005 I admired the scene where a soldier was allowed to drink for free at the bar because the bartender was a World War II vet and respected what he did, it was a nice touch that felt pretty wholesome and American. The movie also had a kid getting eaten, old people getting interrogated and blown up and it was just good gruesome fun that embraced being an old fashioned bloody ass, bloody entertaining piece of joy. It also had some pathos to it, as one woman fights to survive to care for another’s child, two brothers band together to live, people had their reasons for wanting to survive and some did. It’s not easy to see that current going through the films but it is there.
Writers Patrick Melton and Marcus Dunstan like to keep you on your toes with some truly bizarre and unpredictable shit, but one of the surprising things they do is offer up a sense of fairness and balance. Things don’t always end happily for everyone as wars don’t always let heroes choose to die in a manner that befits them, but they see to it that those who deserve it and act selfishly find a way to meet their doom with unusually healthy doses of irony and agony.
About the only real negative I can say about the film is there is an extended strobe-lit sequence that stands in for the jarring shaky cam work of the first as far as bad directorial choices go and it’s frankly pretty damn irritating. That being said, I can pretty much eat the rest of this shit up.
Doing their level best to survive the onslaught that started at the end of the last film our motley gang nails a few beasts then hole up in the town jail they tried unsuccessfully to occupy in the previous film. Therein they meet a survivalist named Shitkicker (John Allen Nelson, sublime) before things turn ugly and they vow to take the fight to the creatures. The gang befriends and escape to the sewers with a prophet named Short Bus Gus, who may or may not be able to control and communicate with the aliens.
In order to avoid spoiling a few truly great surprises I’ll tell you that a bizarre subculture exists down there in addition to the monsters and leave it at that, but I will tell you that the humor while keeping with the grand tradition of being “so not right” is actually funny again. My least favorite joke from the second film where a guy named Greg Swank sacrifices a baby to save himself has a long, irony laden and pretty damn funny pay-off where Greg lives through most of this film with a pipe sticking through his head and he’s disoriented, all his dialogue is unintelligible and subtitled and he thinks the surviving midget luchador from the last film is the baby he killed and this is his shot at redemption.
When I saw “Feast” in 2005 I admired the scene where a soldier was allowed to drink for free at the bar because the bartender was a World War II vet and respected what he did, it was a nice touch that felt pretty wholesome and American. The movie also had a kid getting eaten, old people getting interrogated and blown up and it was just good gruesome fun that embraced being an old fashioned bloody ass, bloody entertaining piece of joy. It also had some pathos to it, as one woman fights to survive to care for another’s child, two brothers band together to live, people had their reasons for wanting to survive and some did. It’s not easy to see that current going through the films but it is there.
Writers Patrick Melton and Marcus Dunstan like to keep you on your toes with some truly bizarre and unpredictable shit, but one of the surprising things they do is offer up a sense of fairness and balance. Things don’t always end happily for everyone as wars don’t always let heroes choose to die in a manner that befits them, but they see to it that those who deserve it and act selfishly find a way to meet their doom with unusually healthy doses of irony and agony.
About the only real negative I can say about the film is there is an extended strobe-lit sequence that stands in for the jarring shaky cam work of the first as far as bad directorial choices go and it’s frankly pretty damn irritating. That being said, I can pretty much eat the rest of this shit up.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist [***1/2]
We’ve all been there before: admonishing never again until the next time. Nick (Michael Cera) is making an ill advised phone call to his ex-girlfriend Triss explaing why he isn’t at school, his reasons are multiple, flimsy and he’s making one last mix CD for her. It’s desperate but standard until you see him against the wall as he makes his afternoon phone call, his cheek nestled against a picture of his ex on a collage that adorns his wall. The viewer won’t know it at the time, but the journey of “Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist” will be better than its trailer lets on. I like Michael Cera and Kat Dennings, I think this movie is miles better than “Charlie Bartlett” and I think this film like “Superbad” deftly handles teenage insecurity, so the question is: why the fuck didn’t I see this thing until tonight? Sadly, I don’t have an answer.
A movie about two strangers who kiss, fight, search for one’s drunken friend who has run off under the mistaken impression that she has been kidnapped amidst an all night quest to find a band’s secret show seems like it would be some light fluffy fun (and it can be), but it never is just any of those things. Cera and Dennings as the titular Nick and Norah are warm and endearing characters, loveable and always at the ready with a quip but fully capable of revealing more depth. They aren’t over written and precious, they don’t have to keep up with the script it fits them.
The comedy of “Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist” is a mask and there are numerous telling moments in the film: such as the one where Nick has his cheek pressed against a picture of his girlfriend or the moments when after parting ways with Nick, Norah calls a friend named Tal (Jay Baruchel),who is a prick, but makes her feel good because he appreciates her sometimes or the moment when Norah asks how two people who can’t stand each other stay together for so long and Nick offers to call his parents to find out. This isn’t a romantic comedy about two people finding out they are perfect for each other, regardless of the fact that that happens to be true, it’s a story about how often our heart fails us and how we settle for being okay sometimes. The drunken escapades of Norah’s friend Caroline (Ari Graynor) suggest that obliviousness is a preferable alternative to throwing yourself out there for someone to trample on and Nick’s homosexual bandmates, who have brought a fellow named Lethario along for the ride, suggest as “Superbad” did before that there’s no love more uncomplex than man love.
“Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist” is a film that understands how big a role heartbreak, the folly of youth and settling for not being alone plays in our romantic lives, better than that I think it also understands what courage is. It takes lots of balls to put yourself out there and that fear that may send you into a retreat never goes away (the film’s final moments are a perfect example of this). The lucky ones among us just make an effort not to shit on or get shat upon.
We’ve all been there before: admonishing never again until the next time. Nick (Michael Cera) is making an ill advised phone call to his ex-girlfriend Triss explaing why he isn’t at school, his reasons are multiple, flimsy and he’s making one last mix CD for her. It’s desperate but standard until you see him against the wall as he makes his afternoon phone call, his cheek nestled against a picture of his ex on a collage that adorns his wall. The viewer won’t know it at the time, but the journey of “Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist” will be better than its trailer lets on. I like Michael Cera and Kat Dennings, I think this movie is miles better than “Charlie Bartlett” and I think this film like “Superbad” deftly handles teenage insecurity, so the question is: why the fuck didn’t I see this thing until tonight? Sadly, I don’t have an answer.
A movie about two strangers who kiss, fight, search for one’s drunken friend who has run off under the mistaken impression that she has been kidnapped amidst an all night quest to find a band’s secret show seems like it would be some light fluffy fun (and it can be), but it never is just any of those things. Cera and Dennings as the titular Nick and Norah are warm and endearing characters, loveable and always at the ready with a quip but fully capable of revealing more depth. They aren’t over written and precious, they don’t have to keep up with the script it fits them.
The comedy of “Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist” is a mask and there are numerous telling moments in the film: such as the one where Nick has his cheek pressed against a picture of his girlfriend or the moments when after parting ways with Nick, Norah calls a friend named Tal (Jay Baruchel),who is a prick, but makes her feel good because he appreciates her sometimes or the moment when Norah asks how two people who can’t stand each other stay together for so long and Nick offers to call his parents to find out. This isn’t a romantic comedy about two people finding out they are perfect for each other, regardless of the fact that that happens to be true, it’s a story about how often our heart fails us and how we settle for being okay sometimes. The drunken escapades of Norah’s friend Caroline (Ari Graynor) suggest that obliviousness is a preferable alternative to throwing yourself out there for someone to trample on and Nick’s homosexual bandmates, who have brought a fellow named Lethario along for the ride, suggest as “Superbad” did before that there’s no love more uncomplex than man love.
“Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist” is a film that understands how big a role heartbreak, the folly of youth and settling for not being alone plays in our romantic lives, better than that I think it also understands what courage is. It takes lots of balls to put yourself out there and that fear that may send you into a retreat never goes away (the film’s final moments are a perfect example of this). The lucky ones among us just make an effort not to shit on or get shat upon.
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