Monthly Archives: December 2014

The Christmas Consultant

This year, Sean and I are getting on a plane pointed south for Christmas. We are fleeing snow and obligation and we’ll be sipping daiquiris instead of eggnog on a sandy, sunny beach.

This doesn’t really let us off the hook, though. Unwilling to forgo seeing our precious niece and nephew’s gleeful faces on Christmas morning, we’re hosting a pre-Christmas at our place before we leave. Sean’s birthday is in December, which means we’ll only have about a week between it and our little gathering to do the decorating, the baking, the shopping, the wrapping, the writing and sending of Christmas cards, cleaning the house finding the perfect tree, cleaning the house again of all the pine needles we’ve dragged in, the event planning. The event planning. Parties at our house aren’t some relaxed affair. They involve more courses than people, games with prizes, presents galore, and confetti cannons at the least. Luckily our jobs go on hiatus for the month of December. Ha. In fact, lots of jobs, including mine, go haywire for the holidays. And work brings its own obligations: office Christmas parties, and white elephant gift exchanges, and avoiding Linda’s fruit cake. So who among us couldn’t use the services of a Christmas consultant?

That’s what workaholic Maya (Caroline Rhea) figures when her new job is incredibly demanding, a dozen rogue relatives are on their way, and a big party has been promised in order to impress an important client. So she hires Christmas consultant Owen (David Hasselhoff) who oozes Christmas out his pores. He probably leaks Christmas carols out his butt. He grows tinsel out of his head. He’d really like to remove the reindeer antlers up Maya’s butt, but listen: she’s a working, harried mom trying to do it all and in swoops an obnoxious overgrown elf trying to mansplain her family’s Christmas to her. He’s getting lots of credit while also creating lots of havoc. Not to mention resentment, though come to think of it, resentment is kind of like a holiday staple. So maybe you should invite David Hasselhoff over for dinner this year. He can’t be much worse than your aunt Theresa.

The Goodbye Girl

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In 1977. A 30 year-old Richard Dreyfuss became the youngest ever to win the Oscar for Best Actor, a record he held until 2003 when a slightly younger Adrien Brody dethroned him. He was awarded this honour not for Close Encounters of the Third Kind, which was released that same year and still considered a classic, but for this rom com (I hate this movie already for making me use that term) from playwright Neil Simon. Marsha Mason plays Paula who arrives home to discover that, not only has her actor boyfriend left her, but he’s also has sublet the apartment to another actor named Elliot (Dreyfuss), leaving her and her ten year-old daughter homeless. Paula and Elliot reluctantly agree to share the apartment and they clash for awhile before falling in love.

What it’s lost with age. As soon as The Goodbye Girl begins, it ffeels old. The score, dialogue, and hammy acting all seem to come from a 70s cheesy sitcom rather than a Hollywood classic. I’ve always admired Simon as a writer and, when I don’t feel like cooking, I can sometimes be found in my local Indian restaurant reading one of his plays while I eat- often laughing out loud. But his lines are too often fumbled by the actors here and it’ll only be when playing some of them over in my head moments later that I realize that it was actually a great line.

What still holds up. Honestly, not much. Things pick up a llittle when Elliot shows up and, whether or not the performance is Oscar-worthy, Dreyfuss has a lot of fun with the dialogue and is almost always interesting to watch. Even he, though, is sometimes a little over-the-top for my taste. The funniest lines and the funniest moments are all his though. Watching him attempt to reluctantly play Richard III as flamboyantly gay is probably the highlight.

Bottom line. I hate to pick on a movie that is so old and inoffensive but I can’t see The Goodbye Girl having much to offer a modern audience. I don’t disagree with the Academy for giving Dreyfuss the Oscar that year, I just wish it was for Close Encounters.

The Raid 2

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To sum up my review of The Raid: Redemption, I loved pretty much every minute of it. Even after seeing it, I had no idea that it would even be released in North American theatres, let alone become so successful that they would make The Raid 2.

The sequel is, in many ways, a very different movie from the first. Having finally fought it’s way out, the series is no longer limited to the confines of a broken down high rise and we get to follow Rama through the streets of Jakarta as he continues his mission to take down the local underworld. Rama is now deep undercover and in completely over his head. While The Raid used the simplicity of its claustrophobic story to its advantage, The Raid 2 tries to be an epic crime story as Rama gets caught in the middle of turf wars and double crosses from within the crime family he’s investigating. Director Gareth Evans has a lot more characters to juggle this time around.

With all of Jakarta at its mercy this time, The Raid 2 is predictably even more outrageous this time around. If there aren’t enough hammer-wielding hot deaf female assassins for you in the movies you’ve been watching, you’re in luck! And- bonus!- her interpreter is a baseball bat-wielding hitman!

Evans has not lost his touch directing the fights and he proves just as capable with car chases and uses more elaborate set pieces that would not have been an option before, given the limitations of the first film’s settings. You can make a strong argument that this is the better of the two movies. It’s more ambitious, more violent (which is saying a lot), and left me feeling even more exhilaratied by the end. More conservative fans may find some of the final fights about a minute too long (unlike in The Raid, which was careful not to overstated it’s welcome) but you won’t hear me complaining. Movies that are as well-made as this are almost never this much fun.

The Raid: Redemption

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It was September 2011 and it was my first time at the Toronto International Film Festival. I decided to take a chance on an Indonesian martial arts film that was then just called The Raid. It wasn’t like any of the other premiers that I had been to. It started at midnight with an energy that felt like we were waiting for a concert – not a movie- to start. When the film’s stars took the stage to introduce it, many audience members were more eager to see them fight than speak, with some calling for them to “kick him in the head”.

The plot of The Raid: Redemption, as it’s known now, is as simple as it gets. A Jakarta Swat team raids a high rise crack house where an untouchable drug dealer is hiding out. Things- who would have guessed- go horribly wrong and the building’s residents kill all but a few cops, including a rookie named Rama, who will need to fight their way out with machete, axes, feet, fists, and elbows. (Everyone seems to run out of bullets quickly in this movie).

It’s not much but it’s all the story we need. The movie spends almost all its time dedicated to some of the best fight choreography I’ve seen in a long time. More importantly, director Gareth Evans knows how to shoot it. I’ve seen way too many action movies from disorganized directors who don’t known where to put the camera or editors who cut away too quickly to the point where it’s hard to tell who’s roundhousing who. Not here. Evans knows exactly what’s going on in every fight and wants us to too. It pays off. The bloodthirsty crowd at the world premiere cheered for every broken bone, every face smashed into a wall, and every throat that’s slit.

Many will be turned off by the violence. But for those with a bad case of bloodlust, first- if you get the chance to catch a Midnight Madness screening at Tiff, take it. Second, see this movie. The adrenaline will stay with you all day.

Love Actually

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I’ve actually started packing away my copy of Love Actually with my Christmas decorations every year, which limits my viewing of it to just once, annually. This is a necessary precaution because it’s way too easy for me to get swept away in this movie.

It feels like the ultimate romantic movie, possibly because in this movie Hugh Grant AND Colin Firth both get the girl. But for every frenzied makeout session, there’s also a cold, awkward peck on the cheek. Your heart breaks as much as it soars. There’s grand gestures, and well thought-out lingerie, slow dancing cheek to cheek, and enough first kisses to charm even the more cynical hearts.

But for me, this movie excels not in its romantic tropes, but in the darker corners. You don’t need this movie to tell you that Emma Thompson is superb, but it does confirm it. The scene when she’s in the bedroom, having just unwrapped Joni Mitchell instead of jewelry, is moving and real. Only a few moments (and even fewer tears) are devoted to her broken heart and we watch her pull herself back together to give her children a smiling, overbright Christmas. Only an extended hug for brother David belies just how much she’s hurting. This movie happens to take place in the weeks leading up to Christmas, and while the magic of the season seems to heighten the romantic aspects, and give courage to those who need it, it also highlights the loneliness, the forced joviality, the false cheer.

There’s probably some sort of personality test about which couple your root for in this movie, but I must confess, I also adore the non-romantic-couple bits: the sweet and silly bromance between Billy Mack (Bill Nighy) and his fat manager, the sacrifice of Sarah (Laura Linney) for her institutionalized brother, the shared grief and renewed bond between Daniel (Liam Neeson) and his young stepson.

I’ve been watching this movie for a decade and I still squeal at all my favourite parts: the papier-mache lobster head, the Rowan Atkinson gift wrapping, the Beatles sendoff, Hugh Grant dancing unselfconsciously, the falling in love by subtitles between Jamie and Aurelia, Martin Freeman warming up his hands for “the nipples,” Rick Grimes taking a break from zombies. This movie has it all, and I’ve certainly heard it criticized for being over-stuffed, but personally I wouldn’t know which subplot to cut. Sure it’s self-indulgent, but watching this movie every year is a gift I give myself.

The assholes will be reviewing their favourite holiday movies all December long, so stay tuned!

The One I Love

Lucky Them

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Toni Collette plays Ellie, a music critic who’s assigned to track down her musician ex-boyfriend. He disappeared over a decade ago, just as his career was taking off, and hasn’t been heard of since. She’s clearly still nursing old wounds: she’s a mess, personally and professionally. She has one-night-stands instead of relationships. But now suddenly she has to go ripping off band-aids with the help of an old flame and total creepster (Thomas Haden Church). Church is a cringe-inducing rich prick who’s decided to take up documentary film-making. Collette is an imposter with a veneer so thin even a complete stranger calls her on it between bites of wedding cake.

This movie is what would happen if last year’s mournful, Oscar-nominated Inside Llewyn Davis and Oscar-winning treasure Searching for Sugar Man got together and had a mediocre baby. Well, maybe mediocre’s a bit harsh. I love me some Toni Collette and she does a bang-up job turning this somewhat predictable coming-of-age-l into a relevant, layered coming-of-middle-age tale. Church allows her to bounce off his deadpan delivery, although she often seems reduced to grimacing when the script fails her.

The movie is purposefully slow. We really get a sense of Ellie’s stagnation as she is given a goal and then proceeds to ignore it for huge chunks of the movie. Instead of road-tripping out to find the ex-boyfriend, we explore relationships and maybe do a little growing up. All in all, this is a nice little indie flick that didn’t do much in theatres but will have a nice second life on Netflix. This baby doesn’t live up to its parents’ standards but when you run out of A material, here’s a nice solid B.

American Graffiti

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In 1973. After sitting on the finished film for six months, Universal finally got around to releasing this relatively low-budget surprise hit that was directed and co-written by a young George Lucas. Different in almost every way from the films that Lucas would later become known for, American Graffiti is inspired by memories of his youth cruising around Modesto, California while trying to pick up girls. Set in 1962 during the last night before two high school grads head off to college, four friends spend one last hilariously wild night driving around the strip trying to get laid, find someone to buy beer for them, and give a clingy 12 year-old the slip.

What it’s lost with age. Even what’s dated kind of works. Even at the time, the clothes and expressions were from what Lucas thought of as a more innocent time. How can you not love a movie with lines like “Don’t you think the Beach Boys are boss?” and “Go kiss a duck, marblehead!”? I do have to admit though that it was bizarre watching Harrison Ford as the cocky cowboy looking to race the fastest kid in town.

What still holds up. Pretty much everything. Lucas apparently wrote the script around the rock and roll music of the 50s and early 60s and the classics play throughout the entire movie through car radios and at the sock hop. The film follows several characters throughout this one night on the strip and the stories are constantly interesecting as our heroes run into each other often yelling through car windows. Everywhere they go, they seem to run into someone they know and before long the strip starts to feel like home for us too. This style keep s the pace as fast as an Indiana Jones film.

Nice surprise for modern audiences. George Lucas did make one classic film that he didn’t eventually ruin with prequels and sequels.

Bottom line. You can feel Lucas’ love for this time and place in almost every scene. But you don’t have to be nostalgic for the music, cars, and styles of the 50s and 60s to love this movie. It’s like Superbad with less dick drawings. I can’t think of many teen party movies that were made by such a celebrated and talented filmmaker. Rent it.

Guardians of the Galaxy

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Since the DVD release for Guardians of the Galaxy is next week, it’s the second best time to review the movie (and I missed the first best because this site didn’t exist in August). If you read my Frozen review you already have a hint at how much I love this movie and I wanted to share that with you.

Judging by the fact that this movie is the highest grossing one of 2014, I’m guessing a lot of you have already seen it. If you haven’t, what are you waiting for? It’s fantastic. It’s big and loud and mostly dumb, but it’s also funny and charming and heartwarming, with a lot of standout performances. Chris Pratt is awesome but to me the best part of the movie was Groot, and Vin Diesel deserves a ton of credit for his performance. He only had one line (basically) to say, and yet he really does make it mean so much more than I expected, he does somehow convey something along with it. So I was able to believe without question that Rocket really could understand what Groot was saying, because it seemed that the words “I am Groot” weren’t really as important as the sentiment that was attached. Going in, I knew the basics of the characters (though never read that comic) and was skeptical of the concept, but coming out I was satisfied. It totally worked and that has to be because of Vin Diesel. And having that character be a REAL character, not just CGI, helped me invest in the movie. Get ready to laugh out loud at Groot’s little smile after he impales about 30 bad guy foot soldiers at once, and feel a little sniffly at the climax when Groot’s words change just enough to sum up the evolution of these five outcasts from Groot and four selfish assholes/criminals to one kick-ass superhero team that can overcome anything (spoiler alert: they win in the end).

At this point comic adaptions are pretty played out (with a ton more to come) but this is one of the best there is and I wish I didn’t have to wait three years for a sequel (and I’m sure Marvel wishes it was coming out sooner too, but this movie was in no way a surefire hit). It’s a nice changeup from the superhero team movies we’ve already seen in that it doesn’t take an hour to get started (I’m looking at you, Avengers), takes a tongue in cheek approach that matches the characters perfectly, and is such a fun journey, and it fully deserves its rating of 21 space guns out of 10.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

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Full disclosure: I am Wes Anderson’s twin sister, and thus, incapable of impartial movie reviews.

Fuller disclosure: That was a bold lie. I’m just an uber-fan, but upon reflection I don’t want to accuse myself of impartiality. Yes, I love his movies fervently, I wish to live in them, but my esteem is earned. Wes Anderson never takes a night off. He earns it every time.

I was going to watch something new, and maybe I was going to like it, but this little delicacy presented itself as an alternative, and therefore it was the only alternative.

Wes Anderson introduces us to Gustave H, a legendary and well-perfumed concierge at the famous Grand Budapest Hotel, and Zero Moustafa, the humble lobby boy who becomes his most trusted friend. The story involves the theft (and recovery) of an invaluable painting and the battle over a will and a vast family fortune.

Immediately Anderson’s aesthetic draws you into this world, the colour palette is sumptuous and alive, and it’s like stepping into someone’s well-appointed dream. As always, the details are meticulously executed: the hotel’s shabbiness, the gritty grout, the choice of fonts, the embroidery, the mustaches, both real and drawn-on, the crest worn by Edward Norton and his army men of a little fox head greatly resembling a certain Fantastic Mr. Fox.

The movie is shot with three different aspect rations to help the audience differentiate between the time periods. The adventure is rapid-fire and the dialogue is virtually spat out. In fact, the rapid gunfire of dialogue is a problem when viewing the movie in a theatre: the laughs are so close together it’s sometimes hard to hear whatever comes next.

The characteres are vividly drawn and always so much fun to get to know – in this case, Ralph Fiennes plays a character playing a character who makes pretension feel absolutely charming. Tilda Swinton makes a grand dame indeed in her voluminous old age spots, old lady lipstick, and ridiculously piled hair. There are actually so many stars jam-packed into this movie that I’ll never be able to name-check them all. The enjoyable thing is that these cameos rarely (if ever) feel forced, instead it’s intoxicating and energizing.

It’s a caper-y type film and the plot covers a lot more ground than most of Wes Anderson’s films. But the crime is nestled within a sumptuous frame work and the whole film eats like one of Mendl’s delicious little cakes that are turned our so perfectly that Saoirise Ronan, who plays Agatha, said that making those little pastries convincingly was by far the hardest stunt she’s performed in any movie.

I’d like to say that this is possibly Wes Anderson’s best movie to date, but I feel that such an assertion would be a betray of sorts, like choosing my favourite among my dogs (which reminds me – great little Anderson in-joke moment: after killing a dog in nearly every other movie, Anderson finally sticks it to a cat in a manner so abrupt and cruel it can’t help but get a big, suprised laugh). It’s hard to find a movie that’s this entertaining, this varied and layered, and even if you watch it as a George Clooney edition of Where’s Waldo, you can’t go wrong.

Stay tuned for more Wes Anderson reviews – I won’t be able to resist.