Film Review - PAIN AND GAIN

Despite years spent devolving into parody, there was always a sliver of hope that, given strong material, Michael Bay was capable of proving himself more than just a shallow exploiter of explosions. Alas, that optimism dies hard with Pain and Gain, a stupid, unpleasant and tedious patchwork consisting of all the director’s most mean-spirited and gaudy fixations, including rampant misogyny and homophobia, toilet humor and distastefully-portrayed violence, blown up to hideous new heights. And the worst part? The potential was here for something genuinely clever and cool! All it needed was competent hands to guide it.

Inspired by a real-life Florida case, Pain and Gain stars Mark Wahlberg as Miami Beach local Daniel Lugo, a sociopathic personal trainer who sees his ripped physique as an embodiment of the American dream and yearns for more. After attending a seminar by an infomercial huckster, Lugo is transformed into a “doer,” and recruits two of his gym buddies – ex-con Jesus freak Paul (Dwayne Johnson) and sexually dysfunctional steroid case Adrian (Anthony Mackie) – to bilk crooked entrepreneur Tony Shalhoub out of his millions. Kidnapping and torturing him, the trio experience short-term success, but it isn’t long before ugly unexpected complications rear their unwanted heads.


The strangeness of this story is undeniably intriguing; however Bay – working from a script by Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely (Captain America) – cuts the film’s legs out almost immediately by blowing its main “based on true events” conceit. There’s no believable reality in Pain and Gain; it’s a garish world populated by grotesque caricatures, where busty, slutted-up Maxim models constantly linger in the background and everything glistens with artificial music video sheen. With Fargo – the director’s oft-mentioned influence – the Coen brothers slyly inserted the “true story” tag as a dry joke to convince the viewer the not-totally-unbelievable insanity actually transpired. Here – where that promise is actually authentic! – the helmer fumbles the gimmick by creating a effort that doesn’t support it.

This tonal miscalculation wouldn’t be so bothersome if the movie entertained. Yet it doesn’t. Great black comedy requires a light touch and sophisticated edge the director doesn’t grasp. Pain and Gain is lumbering and meandering (it runs over two hours), effectively killing all comic momentum. The humor rarely transcends the Bay standard – an explosive diarrhea sight gag got the biggest laugh at my screening – and nets more misses than hits. Unlike Spring Breakers, which weaved a similar tale while skillfully ridiculing its heroes, this film’s stabs at incisive self-awareness are undercut by its dumb sledgehammer obviousness and obnoxious crassness.

The actors (futilely) do their best to right the capsizing ship. Wahlberg has actually rarely been better – there’s definitely some Diggler DNA in Lugo – and him, Johnson and Mackie make a decent touched-in-the-head team. Chasing them, Shalhoub is hyper-sleaze personified and a terse Ed Harris, as a P.I., is the only character who seems human. In a fairly thankless role, Rebel Wilson is funny and oddly sweet as Mackie’s lusty nurse girlfriend.

It’s sad to see so much visibly-engaged talent wasted on a misguided passion project this mind-numbing. Collapsing under the crushing weight of its own botched crazy ambitions, Pain and Gain leaves only a weird, visually dynamic shell devoid of emotion, tension or depth. And again we’re left wondering if Bay, an obviously gifted stylist, will ever conjure up a picture that brings as much brain to the table as brawn. On the evidence of this effort, it’s probably wise not to hold our collective breaths.

1.5 out of 5

*Originally published at BeatRoute Magazine.

Film Review - SPRING BREAKERS

It takes balls to make a film that takes disapproving aim at an entire generation. But it takes even bigger balls to fashion one that cleverly disguises itself as an empowerment message for those it’s so visibly perturbed by. Such is the case with Harmony Korine’s Spring Breakers, a chaotic, pulsing napalm bomb of disdain and awe that stares curiously into the hyper-sexed, hard-partying soul of Generation Y America and finds only superficiality and apathy. This is cinema as incisive, subversive social criticism, clad in slutty exploitation clothing and scored to Skrillex.

Following a numbing near-pornographic opening credit sequence of hedonistic beach bash debauchery, Spring Breakers introduces a quartet of vacuous nubile college students – Selena Gomez, Ashley Benson, Vanessa Hudgens and Rachel Korine - who yearn only for escape from the tedium of their existence. Financially strapped, the girls turn to armed robbery for cash and book it to Florida, where they become entrenched in the booze-soaked reverie of the annual festivities. Fate takes a turn for the weird, however, when a drug bust inadvertently draws them into the realm of Alien (James Franco), a grilled and blinged-out rapper/gangster with dreams of moving up in the underworld. Soon, the bikini babes are donning ski masks and packing shotguns, giddily intent on living the thug life, the hell with repercussions!

A provocateur from day one, when he penned Larry Clark’s Kids at the age of 19, Korine isn’t a particularly subtle filmmaker (the male gaze is cranked up to intentionally creepy extremes here), yet he is a fearless one. Trapping the audience in his female protagonists’ warped, stunted headspace, he subjects us to their banal thoughts, which are often drearily repetitive, disconnected from reality (“Pretend it’s a video game or a movie!”) or amoral. One sequence features a voice over from Gomez’s Faith – the one sorta-good-girl in the group – wherein she describes the “spiritual” experience she’s having in un-self-aware, trite drivel. Today’s entitled American youth, the director seems to argue, lack imagination and insight, and share no contemporary artistic common ground profounder than Britney Spears (whose auto-tuned anthems feature in two key scenes).

If the film is intriguing in its first half, it becomes utterly entrancing once Franco’s Alien commands center stage. Visually repulsive, slurring his words through a stoned drawl, he’s a true darkly comic original; a societal outcast with a tragic backstory (determining whether its fiction or not is part of the fun) who learned everything he knew from his black crime boss friend (Gucci Mane). Rejoicing in his cliché material possessions – including nunchuks, guns and TVs that play Scarface (of course) on a loop – he’s a clown in wolf’s clothing, unprepared for his new charges’ dangerous detachment from reality. Franco masterfully disappears into the flashy role, and Spring Breakers ignites every time he’s free to cut loose and do his thang.

Korine hasn’t created an easily digestible work here. This is a picture destined to be misinterpreted, ridiculed and dismissed by many. But those tuned into its queasy wavelength will discover likely one of 2013’s most remarkable efforts; a movie that dares you to revel in its gaudy orgy of bad behavior while slyly flipping off those who would do just that. Spring Breakers lives boldly in the moment, and mournfully shakes its head for the future.

4 out of 5

*Originally published in BeatRoute Magazine.

Film Review - G.I. JOE: RETALIATION

There’s one sequence in G.I. Joe: Retaliation that exemplifies exactly what a decent G.I. Joe movie should be. Brave ass-kicking good guys Snake Eyes (Ray Park) and Jinx (Elodie Yung) have kidnapped Cobra baddie Storm Shadow (Byung-hun Lee) from a mountain lair and, during their rapid descent, are pursued by a squadron of katana-wielding ninjas decked out in matching crimson outfits. Racing across the snowy, craggy terrain via zip-line, swords slash flesh, body parts pound into jagged rock, and casualties plummet helplessly into the ominous foggy abyss. Played entirely in tense silence, this fast and furious set-piece is pure popcorn silliness; comic-booky in the best way and filled with fun little bursts of giddy imagination.

Alas, rather than construct an energetic story around these ten cool minutes, director Jon M. Chu (Step Up 3D, Justin Bieber: Never Say Never) and Zombieland screenwriters Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick use it as a crutch to prop up one of the most embarrassing examples of fan-film moviemaking in recent memory. Cutting loose most of the material established in Stephen Sommers’ campy 2009 guilty pleasure Rise of Cobra, the trio has crafted a dumb, convoluted adaptation of the 1980s animated show/toy commercial that’s short on thrills, laughs or surprise, yet brimming with pandering shout outs. Want to see a Cobra H.I.S.S. tank realized (and blown up) on screen? You’re in luck! Looking for memorable characters or crazy over-the-top combat? Best search elsewhere.

Picking up shortly after the tragic Nano-mite War depicted in Rise of Cobra, Retaliation finds Duke (Channing Tatum), Roadblock (Dwayne Johnson) and co. tracking down nuclear warheads in Pakistan, at the order of counterfeit U.S. president Jonathan Pryce (who is being impersonated by sinister master of disguise Zartan). However, shortly after completing their assignment, the fighting force is ambushed by Cobra forces and almost entirely wiped out. Only Roadblock, Lady Jaye (Adrianne Palicki) and Flint (personality vacuum D.J. Cotrona) remain, forced to go underground and scout out a means of taking down their country’s imposter leader and the newly freed Cobra Commander (Luke Bracey). They’re aided in their top-secret operation by General Joe Colton (Bruce Willis), the original Real American Hero, and ninja warriors Snake Eyes and Jinx – who have their own mystery to unravel regarding the murder of the former’s beloved sensei.

Drastically scaled back from the mega-budget excesses of its predecessor, Retaliation aims for a more realistic vibe - the Joes use actual ammunition, as opposed to lasers, and real world political events are referenced - while nonetheless packing in ludicrous nonsense like explosive lightning bugs and a sci-fi-ish subterranean prison fortress that apparently houses only two convicts. The clashing tones don’t work. Just when we’re starting to chuckle – as when RZA pops up as Blind Master, spouting hilarious ninja lore jibberish – the picture retreats back to the mundane. There are an extraordinary number of scenes of characters hanging out in nondescript locations spouting mind-numbing exposition at one another. Fine, if it were well written, but the dialogue here rarely rises above wretched. Even the comedic banter (“’Prepare for extraction?’ What are we? Teeth?!”) is cringe-inducing.

While the original cartoon may not have been high art, it could be at least counted on to supply plenty of engaging larger-than-life personalities. Retaliation’s greatest failing is that no one on-screen is very charismatic or interesting. Sure, Johnson is enjoyable. However, this says more about his inherent likeability as an actor than the project (for further current evidence of this phenomenon see exhibit B: Snitch). Tatum and fan fave Snake Eyes are sadly underutilized, while newcomers Flint, Mouse (Joseph Mazzello) and Jaye - who spends most of the film in various states of undress - are woefully vanilla. And the less said about Willis’s paycheck appearance, the better. It’s highly probable defibrillator paddles were needed to jolt him to life each day on set. Even bitchy old Cobra Commander disappoints - a killer costume in search of an identity. Only an eye-poppingly possessed Pryce and Ray Stevenson (using a bizarro southern gentleman drawl as the assassin Firefly) seem to understand what kind of movie they’re in and revel in the absurdity.

All might be forgiven, had the film delivered on the action front but, aside from the aforementioned vertiginous dust-up, Chu comes up woefully short at crafting memorable battles. The shootouts are generically staged, free of excitement, and the physical clashes are a sad continuation of the current shaky-cam/spastic editing trend. It’s a sign of Retaliation’s incompetence that it even manages to make the climactic sight of Johnson decimating Cobra minions in a heavy-duty one-man tank boring.
It’s frustrating how unremarkable G.I. Joe: Retaliation truly is. The flick doesn’t even manage to suck on the amazing level of its other foul Hasbro cinematic brethren Battleship or the Transformers trilogy. No, this is a nothing movie; a soulless corporate product that aspires only to keep the brand name in the public consciousness another couple years. Mission accomplished, I guess. Hoorah.

1.5 out of 5

*Originally published at BeatRoute Magazine.  

Film Review - OLYMPUS HAS FALLEN

Had Steven Seagal not collapsed so spectacularly into the parodic fat Elvis phase of his career a couple decades ago, Olympus Has Fallen might have wound up being a really kickass Under Siege threequel. For here is one of the most ludicrous, straight-faced entries in the “Die-Hard-in-a-[Insert Confined Location Here]” action subgenre in years; an absurd throwback to ’90s kill-em-all extravaganzas that honors its forebears while still being a really solid, memorable formula entry. No cheesy fourth-wall-breaking winks or sad attempts to nab the youth market (*cough* The Expendables *cough*), just two hours of skillful hard-R carnage, pyrotechnics and irresponsible ultraviolence. Thank the movie gods for minor miracles.

Beefy, hulking Gerard Butler confidently occupies the eye of Olympus’ hurricane, playing Mike Banning, a top-notch Presidential guard (“He moves mountains or dies trying!”) relocated to the Treasury Department after a tragic nighttime accident on an icy bridge. However, he abruptly proves to be the country’s only hope when President Asher (Aaron Eckhart) is taken hostage by a North Korean extremist icily played by Rick Yune. Conveniently trapped alone in the terrorist-ruled White House, Banning stealthily begins picking off adversaries, intent on protecting the President’s son (Finley Jacobsen) and liberating his former boss. He’s aided from afar by Speaker of the House Morgan Freeman, who understands the full magnitude of the arch-villain’s cataclysmic plot against America’s fair people.


Eschewing the tedious shaky-cam/rapid fire-editing aesthetic that has plagued contemporary action films, director Antoine Fuqua (Training Day, Shooter) goes for a more classic feel, conveying his considerable mayhem in relatively clean, comprehensible shots. Dodgy CG aside – there is a really cruddy-looking plane crash early on – the action in Olympus feels refreshingly old school, with a good handle on geography and cause and effect. It’s also exciting! And the violence is brutal and impactful (critics who fretted over Zero Dark Thirty’s portrayal of torture may have an aneurism watching Banning interrogate two bound-and-gagged goons). The script, by newcomers Creighton Rothenberger and Katrin Benedikt, won’t win any awards for its clunky dialogue or logic, but there’s genuine rising tension; the more things go wrong, the more we’re pulled in and the climax doesn’t disappoint.

As a tough-guy hero, Butler isn’t one of our more charismatic stars. That said, his terse delivery and blunt force physicality serve him quite well here. He’s a dependable lead, with a few choice quips, who we believe is capable of stopping a small army single-handed. Offering strong support is Eckhart, as the resilient, iron-willed commander-in-chief, and Dylan McDermott, demonstrating amusingly snaky attitude as an aging Secret Service man. Freeman, Angela Bassett and Robert Forster cash paychecks with admirable gravitas as Banning’s top-rank advisors, while a gutsy, electric Melissa Leo – seemingly unaware that she’s acting in a big, dumb B-movie – compellingly endures horrific trauma as the captive Secretary of Defense. Look no further for a portrait of true professionalism, folks!

Silly and energetic, this picture should make for a great opening-weekend crowd experience, where its unironic blend of overkill, cornball flag-waving and endearing over-earnestness guarantees to produce no shortage of laughs and fist-pumping enthusiasm. It’s often easy to dismiss films like this, but Fuqua has crafted a fun shoot ‘em up and it’s worth recognizing a job done pretty damn well. Now, will someone please get started on the inevitable (and welcome) sequel, Olympus Has Fallen Harder?

3.5 out of 5

*Originally printed in BeatRoute Magazine.

Film Review - A GOOD DAY TO DIE HARD

A Good Day to Die Hard is a chaotic portrait of one man’s wearying struggle to keep his head held high while braving a seemingly unconquerable bad situation. Unfortunately, this time around, it isn’t really perpetually unlucky NYDP cop John McClane being run mercilessly through the ringer before our eyes. No, its series star Bruce Willis, who trudges through his fifth tour of Die Hard duty wearing the tired, reluctant frown of an actor well aware that he’s a long, sad way from Nakatomi Tower.

Wandering through a gauntlet of slapped-together noisy nonsense constructed by the hacky 20th Century Fox lackey duo of helmer John Moore (Max Payne, Behind Enemy Lines) and screenwriter Skip Woods (X-Men Origins: Wolverine, The A-Team), Willis smirks dutifully, however the surly spark is gone. The once ornery John McClane has been replaced by a largely emotionless killing machine that unflinchingly mows down villains by the dozen and walks away from near-death experiences with nary a scratch. As an entry in a franchise built around the concept of a flawed, all-too-human hero dragging himself through hell while bitching all the way, A Good Day to Die Hard misses more notes than a tone-deaf kazoo novice.

Going international for the first time, McClane’s latest body count-clocking escapade sends him to Russia in order to attend the trial of his estranged son Jack (Jai Courtney), an undercover CIA agent secretly assigned to protect a political prisoner (Sebastian Koch) from his deadly former colleagues. Fate intervenes, though, when the courtroom is demolished by armed mercenaries and the two quarreling relations are thrown together on a desperate chase to recover a top secret file containing, uh, top secret stuff! About nuclear weapons and so forth! Of course, this being a Die Hard picture, there are plenty of hazards on the road to massive property (and collateral) damage-causing victory and familial fence-mending, including an evil hot babe (Yuliya Snigir – whose heavily advertised motorcycle gear stripping scene is absent from the finished film. Just sayin’!) and a tattooed soft shoe routine-performing thug (Radivoje Bukvic).

While all these elements sound workable on paper, A Good Day to Die Hard is depressingly lazy and uninterested in delivering the classic elements that have kept the series vital. McClane feels neutered, transformed into a one-note destructive tagalong without any good wiseass quips or apprehension, and he’s stuck with a wooden ally devoid of dimension. Courtney is a capable physical presence – as evidenced in Jack Reacher – yet his underwritten character only serves to underscore the fact that, as a sidekick, he seriously lacks the charisma of Samuel L. Jackson or Justin Long.

Worse, the bad guys this go-around are flat-out disposable bores. Die Hard has a rich history of eccentric villainous personalities, and these anonymous jokers feel like placeholders for more memorable, layered antagonists. They aren’t threatening or compelling – their master plan is labyrinthine in its ludicrous convolution – and the waves of masked pop-up henchmen resemble easy obstacles in a video game.

As an example of unrelenting action spectacle, the picture strains vainly to reach the low bar marked “competent.” Moore doesn’t have any personality behind the camera, and his large-scale set-pieces – executed by an admirably committed team of stuntmen and technicians – suffer for it. The rushing impact of an early extended sequence of multi-vehicle annihilation is weakened by sloppy editing that makes a mockery of geography and dulls the coolest bits. The same can be said for the climactic assault, which features abundant gunfire and deadly helicopter hijinx but – minus an ambitious final pyro-happy money shot – not a whole lotta excitement.

Say what you will about the series’ previous sequels, there were at least conscious attempts made to push McClane into clever new places and create explosive scenarios that topped what came before. This lame entry doesn’t even try for innovation; it’s a generic, forgettable product churned out by filmmakers ill-fitted for handling the responsibility of the beloved property they’ve taken ownership of.

For the Die Hard brand, this is anything but a good day.

2 out of 5

*Originally published at BeatRoute Magazine.

Film Review - PARKER

Jason Statham is such a charismatic force-of-nature presence that it’s painful to see his considerable kick-ass talents pissed away on middling C-grade junk. Seemingly born a couple decades too late, he’s a natural movie star who could have shared the Action God throne with the big three, Arnie, Sly and Bruce, in the gloriously pumped-up ’80s and ’90s. Imagine him occupying his own crazy Total Recall, Rambo or Die Hard picture, as opposed to Killer Elite, Transporter or The Mechanic. Ah, what might have been…

His latest, Parker, doesn’t even come close to reversing this woeful trend. A limp, bottom drawer adaptation of Donald E. Westlake’s beloved literary antihero – who previously shot up the silver screen in 1967’s Point Blank and 1999’s Payback – this film is perhaps the worst entry in Statham’s not-exactly-stellar filmography since 2007’s atrocious War. I’ll leave you to ponder that one for a minute.

Sleepily directed by Taylor Hackford (Ray), Parker casts Statham as a low-level thief who, during a daring daylight costumed county fair robbery, is double-crossed and left for dead by his crooked associates, headed by The Shield’s Michael Chiklis. Hell-bent on revenge, the rapidly recovered bastard-with-an-honour-code tracks his dangerous quarry to Palm Beach, Florida, where they’re planning an even larger con. Aiding Parker on his brutal quest is struggling real estate agent Jennifer Lopez, who yearns to gather enough cash to move out of her wacky mother’s house. Obviously, it goes without saying that, by film’s end, bullets will have been unloaded en masse, necks snapped and middle-aged sex symbols disrobed. Not necessarily in that order.

Unfortunately, whereas previous cinematic takes on the character produced blackly funny, mean crime thrillers, Parker is almost remarkably toothless and plodding. The characteristic Statham icy attitude and coiled violence is overwhelmed by a DOA screenplay, which spends an inordinate amount of time going nowhere – J.Lo’s floundering job and home life receive a baffling amount of attention – only to climax on a note of perfunctory, unsatisfying chaos. There’s no inspired anarchic spirit here. No willingness to revel in nasty, blood-spattered fun (like Statham’s decent 2012 effort Safe did).

Frankly, this is a blip of a movie; 118 minutes of tedious, dim-witted nonsense that dissipates into thin air the second the credits role. The star deserves better, as do audiences. At the end of the day, the only thing Parker succeeds at is making off with is your precious time and money.

1 out of 5

*Originally published at BeatRoute Magazine.

The Top 10 Best Films of 2012

1) DJANGO UNCHAINED – Quentin Tarantino could have easily just rested on his laurels after 2009’s incomparably incredible Inglourious Basterds. However, proving once again why he’s the most exciting working director, the former video clerk wunderkind delivered a bloody, furious love letter to Spaghetti Westerns that also serves as a fiery, pissed off middle finger to America’s horrific slavery past. Featuring stellar iconic performances from Jamie Foxx, Christoph Waltz, Leonardo DiCaprio and Samuel L. Jackson, Django Unchained gleefully tramples down taboos, cliches and genre conventions, fearlessly blazing an uproarious, surprising and gripping trail straight into the heart of movie geek heaven.

2) THE FLAT – One of 2012’s most emotionally profound movie experiences, Arnon Goldfinger’s haunting documentary The Flat sees the Israeli filmmaker unraveling a truly shocking connection between his Zionist grandparents and a high-ranking Nazi officer circa WWII. As he interviews key players throughout Germany, and uncovers startling new revelations, we’re given a deeper understanding of the country’s generational divide in dealing with the appalling impact of the Holocaust. Moving and passionate, The Flat poses huge provocative questions that linger with the viewer long after the credits roll.

3) SILVER LININGS PLAYBOOK – The best ode to the works of Billy Wilder in a long time, David O’Russell’s side-splitting, winningly romantic comic exploration of bipolar disorder and dysfunctional family dynamics was a rapturously joyful time at the movies. Populated by an awe-inspiring cast – with particular attention owed to the radiant and unfathomably talented Jennifer Lawrence – this is a feast of delicious dialogue, served up with bite, love and razor-sharp wit. Silver Linings Playbook doesn’t merely make you smile. It leaves you uncontrollably beaming ear-to-ear.

4) THE AVENGERS – This really shouldn’t have worked out this well. Yet, glory of glories, Joss Whedon’s Marvel franchise team-up spectacular was that oh-so-rare popcorn blockbuster that had smarts, pulse-quickening action and plenty of cool to spare. Admirably character-driven in plot, humour and epic battle sequences, The Avengers is everything one could ever hope for in such a grand creative venture, with enough fist-pumping “Awesome!” moments to fuel a dozen typical Hollywood tentpoles. If you wanted to have spellbinding fun at the movies in summer 2012, Whedon and his mighty team were the only heroes worth championing.

5) THE GREY  – A primal existential howl, Joe Carnahan’s wilderness survival tale is a red-blooded portrait of lost souls, led by alpha male Liam Neeson, navigating an icy, wolf-infested purgatory on their exhausted way to relief and, possibly, redemption. As poignant as it is thrilling, The Grey is a victorious culmination of the previously uneven director’s testosterone-fuelled obsessions. It doesn’t just entertain mightily; it cuts to the bone as harshly as a chilling blast from an oppressive Alaskan winter windstorm.

6) THE MASTER – Paul Thomas Anderson’s bizarre meditation on religion and man’s animalistic nature was the most intriguing cinematic conundrum of 2012. Buoyed by masterclass turns by Joaquin Phoenix and Philip Seymour Hoffman, The Master is almost gleefully audience-unfriendly. Leisurely-paced and aloof, it takes us on a discombobulating odyssey of discovery that ultimately leaves us unsettled and scratching our heads, left to draw our own conclusions. That said, the impressive power of The Master isn’t its ability to worm its way into your head, so much as how it irresistibly lingers there long after the initial journey is over.

7) THE RAID: REDEMPTION – This propulsive blast of hyperkinetic madness should have been called “Hey Hollywood, You’re Doing it Wrong!” Gareth Evan’s Indonesian beat’em up orgy is the epitome of B-movie action brilliance; a taut, eye-poppingly violent 100 minutes of expertly directed chaos, frenetic martial arts madness and bone-crunching brutality. Is it high art? Hell no! But who cares when the results are this go-for-broke exhilarating?!

8) THE DARK KNIGHT RISES – And so, the Bat at last soared into the triumphant sunset in Christopher Nolan’s ambitious, challenging and, yes, occasionally unwieldy, The Dark Knight Rises. Staggering in scope and bursting at the seams with ideas and torn-from-the-headlines parallels, this was the Feel Bad blockbuster to end all Feel Bad blockbusters; a gloomy, dread-soaked and utterly mesmerizing march through the vicious, crumbling canyons of beloved ol’ Gotham City. Although it didn’t match the near-perfection of 2008’s The Dark Knight, Rises was an engrossing and inventive trilogy capper, wonderfully told.

9) THE IMPOSSIBLE – Unfortunately overshadowed by its odd white-washed casting decisions, Juan Antonio Bayona’s wrenching real-life disaster story is an achievement of devastating atmosphere and soaring, soul-tugging emotion. Starring an impressively raw Naomi Watts and Ewan McGregor, The Impossible sickeningly recreates the 2004 Thai tsunami and its tragic aftermath, chronicling the powerful story of one family’s unimaginable endurance and torturous path to reunion. Admirably naturalistic, this is a devastating work of virtuoso filmmaking that speaks to the unconquerable power of the human spirit.

10) KILLER JOE – Few actors had a better year than Matthew McConaughey. While Magic Mike may have gotten him the most attention, it’s his work in William Friedkin’s blackly hilarious hillbilly noir that truly stuns. Playing a corrupt lawman with an appetite for underage girls, McConaughey is a sweaty, swaggering illustration of reptilian sleaze; an untouchable creep living it up in a trailer trash paradise of immorality and perversity. Killer Joe is a minor miracle of absurdist ugly cinema, with a climactic dinner scene that may forever turn you off of KFC. Seriously.

Honourable Mentions: ARGO, CABIN IN THE WOODS, CLOUD ATLAS, LORE, MOONRISE KINGDOM


*Originally printed in BeatRoute Magazine.

Film Review - JACK REACHER

“I’m not a hero. I’m a drifter with nothing to lose!”

That amazing line, spouted by a surly Tom Cruise, is merely an appetizer for Jack Reacher, a veritable smorgasbord of stony-faced, hard-boiled dialogue imbued with the gravitas of a Shakespearean actor savoring Hamlet. It’s a study in absurd tough guy poetry, lacking the self-awareness of Tarantino or Mamet, but delivered with so much oomph that you can’t help smiling. Especially when Werner Herzog shows up and starts icily reminiscing about chewing off his frostbitten fingers…

Based on the novel One Shot by Lee Child – the ninth entry in the so-far 17-volume Reacher series – the picture is a delightfully analog ode to the old school crime thriller; an energetic exercise in reliable noir tropes gussied up with high wattage charisma and low key cool. Not a whole lot makes sense, but who cares? You don’t take in a film like this for logic, so much as to revel in Hollywood grit, violence and badass attitude. And on that front, Reacher delivers with style.

Written and directed by The Usual Suspects scribe Christopher McQuarrie – who previously helmed 2000’s underrated rough-edged gem The Way of the Gun – Jack Reacher casts Cruise as a no-nonsense former military investigator who lives like a modern day wandering samurai, off the grid and free of human attachments. Drawn into the case of a mass-murdering Pittsburgh sniper, he quickly draws the attention of both the gunman’s public defender (Rosamund Pike – dressed like a teenage boy’s erotic fantasy of a female professional) and the local criminal element, personified by a dead-eyed, and invaluable, Herzog. Of course, it isn’t long before punches are being hurled and classic cars are squealing at high speeds across the asphalt. Did I mention not all is as it seems, either?

There’s very little you haven’t seen before here, yet, thanks largely to the intense dedication of its magnetic lead, the film fires along at an admirably strong clip. The Cruise Show may not be as potent a draw as it once was, though there’s no denying it’s a show that still works. And, because McQuarrie surrounds him with a stellar supporting cast – including Richard Jenkins and Robert Duvall – and has a terrific instinct for macho atmosphere and action, this star vehicle hums like a well-oiled engine, muscular and brimming with confidence.

Jack Reacher won’t set the multiplex ablaze with originality or bold innovation. However, it’s a solid and engaging red-blooded B-picture that exceeds expectations, offering a few surprises and thrills in the process. And, you know something? Sometimes that’s more than enough.

3.5 out of 5

*Originally printed in BeatRoute Magazine.

2012 In Review: The Year of the Genre Film

Although our uneven current cinematic year hasn’t quite shuffled into history, and several high profile releases remain unseen, one critical truth shines through: the ambitious genre film reigned supreme in 2012. Certainly, genre films have always been a fertile ground for unconventional storytelling, veiled commentary and directorial experimentation, but this particular calendar year saw them stretched, twisted, challenged and celebrated in fascinating and boldly engaging ways. The results were pictures predominantly aimed at general audiences that sought to push the boundaries of what mainstream entertainment can strive for. And, man alive, did movie fans ever reap the benefits.

If Christopher Nolan revolutionized the superhero epic with 2008’s The Dark Knight, 2012 continued the trend of filmmakers tackling iconic characters in order to craft magnificent, reverent blockbusters with (*gasp*) brains. Joss Whedon transformed a canny business idea into the delirious bubblegum nirvana The Avengers, a superhero team-up extravaganza that used lovingly rendered pop characterizations and witty banter to elevate a silly straight-from-the-panels alien invasion story into pure kickass bliss. Picking up where he left off, Nolan returned to the Batman-verse with The Dark Knight Rises, closing out his trilogy with a dense, occasionally messy explosion of real world concerns, spectacle and brooding mythical exploration. Running at almost three hours, the picture nearly buckles under its own weight, yet emerges as an engrossingly compelling portrait of go-for-broke grand-scale moviemaking. Never one to be left out of a party, even James Bond amped up the sophistication factor, barreling through Sam Mendes’ thrilling, thematically rich Skyfall with renewed vigour and… existential angst? Shocking. Positively shocking.

And what of the year’s most insane and rewarding gamble, Cloud Atlas? Helmed by the Wachowski siblings and Tom Tykwer, this genre-hopping sci-fi book adaptation disappeared down a rabbit hole of loosely connected stories with the passionate purpose of making sense of the human condition and the impact we have on one another across time. By turns operatic, campy, exhilarating and sweet, it’s the type of Big Idea filmmaking that rarely exists outside of the art house theatre anymore. Which is a damn shame, as the trio of directors achieve something sublime with Atlas; a work of art that not only nails huge emotional and visceral beats, but leaves the viewer intensely pondering what they themselves take away from the material. Despite disappointing grosses, it’s a unique creation that will deservedly live on and occupy film discussions for decades to come.

Even on the smaller scale, there were gems aplenty to treasure. Brick director Rian Johnson finally
made the leap to the big time, gifting audiences with the innovative Looper, a sci-fi fable that remixed its pop-culture influences into something daring, brainy and original. Joe Carnahan’s bleak, haunting survival tale The Grey saw Liam Neeson battling both a ravenous pack of wolves and his own internal fury with the pitiless world around him. The gleefully bonkers Cabin in the Woods provided director Drew Goddard and producer Joss Whedon with a gore-streaked playground in which to eviscerate and pay tribute to the glories of gross-out monster movie cinema. TV adaptation 21 Jump Street, helmed by Phil Lord and Chris Miller, took a terrible buddy-cop concept and, thanks to dynamite comedic duo Jonah Hill and Channing Tatum, mined insanely-quotable meta comic gold. And who will ever forget Gareth Evans’ brutal Indonesian martial arts orgy The Raid: Redemption? That film offers definitive proof that Hollywood still has a lesson or two left to learn in the action picture dojo.

Certainly, there were misfires to be mourned and obsessively autopsied. Name a year where there aren’t. However, the majority were felled by storytelling fumbles, not small-minded laziness. Ridley Scott’s Prometheus, the most maddening of the bunch, promises so much before devolving into a nonsensical creature-feature mish-mash. The obscenely popular Hunger Games, which boasts a solid dystopian premise and a terrific, layered heroine, fails to coherently adapt the world created by author Suzanne Collins, while Disney’s visually impressive John Carter wanders blindly around in circles trying to figure out how to make Edgar Rice Burroughs’ classic stories relevant to today’s youth.

If nothing else, this year’s genre output stood out as a beacon of hope for intelligent filmgoers; a promising reassurance that – no matter the state of the Hollywood studio system – there’s enough breathing room for movies to take chances and think outside the market-tested boxes. We can still be surprised, touched and awed. 2012 has set a high bar. Come New Year, it’s going to be a lot of fun journeying back into the comforting dark recesses of the theatre to see what wonders are waiting to be discovered. Meet you there.

*Originally published at BeatRoute Magazine.

Film Review - RISE OF THE GUARDIANS

As an animation house, Dreamworks tends to rely heavily on a wash, rinse and repeat formula for its family entertainment, mixing light-weight storytelling with A-list star power and shallow pop culture references. Occasionally, the formula works, as in Shrek or Kung Fu Panda. More often than not, though, the results are instantly forgettable and, in the worst cases (Shark Tale, anyone?), grating. No wonder How to Train Your Dragon was such an abashed joy: it was the rare entry in their catalogue to focus on heart, imagination and storytelling over exhausted market-tested gimmickry.

While their latest, the generically titled Rise of the Guardians (No, the owls of Ga’Hoole do not cameo), never soars to the breathtaking heights of the exhilaratingly loveable Dragon, it nonetheless makes broad, colourful strides in the right direction. Based on William Joyce’s "The Guardians of Childhood" book series, Rise boasts a premise that is ingenious in its kid-pleasing appeal: Santa Claus (called North and played by Alec Baldwin), the Easter Bunny (Hugh Jackman – a cheeky highlight in rugby hooligan mode), Sandman and the Tooth Fairy (Isla Fisher) are a top secret super-team responsible for protecting Earth’s ankle biters. Their greatest foe? Pitch Black (slyly silky Jude Law), better known as the Boogieman, who seeks to weaken the Guardians’ powers by polluting children’s sleep with nightmares.

Once Pitch’s threat is recognized by Guardian head honcho The Man in the Moon, he inducts Jack Frost (Chris Pine) into the group. Resembling a sullen My Chemical Romance fan in his form-fitting blue hoodie and skinny jeans, the reluctant silver-maned Jack longs only for friendship and the recovery of his lost memories of creation. Of course, in order for him to complete his Hero’s Journey and defeat Pitch Black, he must discover the importance of teamwork and, more importantly, his own importance in the fanciful minds of young believers everywhere.

Although the film was directed by longtime storyboard artist Peter Ramsey, executive director Guillermo del Toro’s (Pan’s Labyrinth) darkly quirky presence that looms largest over the film. Rise of the Guardians is a lush visual feast of stunning unusual settings, from North’s Yeti-run toyshop (the dim-witted elves basically just take up space) to Bunny’s Easter Island-like fantasy land of mobile stone eggs and vibrant rivers of decorative dye. Real attention has also been paid to making these established characters feel new. The filmmakers have a lot of fun putting their own spin on seemingly familiar sights, such as the tattooed North’s gravity-defying sled, Tooth Fairy’s cute diminutive helpers and the trails of ornate ice emanating from Frost’s magical staff. The mute Sandman – who speaks in pictographs – proves the greatest spectacle, however, in a climactic sequence that’s utterly breathtaking.

If only the script, by David Lindsay-Abaire (Robots, Rabbit Hole), was as stellar as the sumptuous 3D imagery. After a gorgeously haunting opening introducing Jack, Rise of the Guardians sort of pleasantly plods along, from action beat to action beat, before finding its rhythm around the hour mark. Yet, once the gears have lined up, and the central message regarding the significance of belief and wonder kicks in, the weighty emotions are so warmly communicated that it’s easy to forgive the narrative shortcomings. A few more polishes and this might have been a great movie, as opposed to just a really good one.

Ultimately, this film and its heartfelt themes should play like gangbusters to both its target audience – who will be swept up by the beloved iconic leads and clever eye candy – and their nostalgic parents. Rise of the Guardians may not belong among the best modern animated motion pictures, but its touching, dazzling and dynamic. There’s purity to its intentions and, when it comes to family fare, sometimes that’s the most desirable gift you can hope for.

3.5 out of 5

*Originally printed in BeatRoute Magazine: http://beatroute.ca/2012/12/04/rise-of-the-guardians/