Monthly Archives: December 2014

Locke

This movie has a forgettable title. I just tried to watch it two days ago and was startled to realize that in fact, I’d already seen it – it’s that Tom Hardy movie that I really liked.

Luc told me to watch this movie, told me he liked it, and liked Tom Hardy in it. Having seen it, I realize those are one and the same. Tom Hardy IS the movie. It’s just him in a car, his movie to make or break, and fortunately, it’s a very good performance.

Basically, you get the impression that this guy is super methodical and exact, but on the eve of some great big event in his career, he gets a phone call that means his whole life is about to unravel. So we, the audience, get in the car with him, and go for a ride. And somehow, during the course of that one little road trip, we come to know Locke fairly well. And maybe that’s true of all of us; we show our true colours when we’re under fire. And this guy’s got some serious fire, but also a bluetooth, and he uses this car ride to try to douse some of the flames. And no matter how hot it gets (okay, I’m going to stop this metaphor now), Locke is calm and precise and quiet. Kudos to Hardy, and to the director (Knight) for placing him so well. It sounds like this movie could feel monotonous but Knight cuts between the different crises to riveting effect.

I thought the ending was weak, and kind of abrupt. You get so invested in this guy it comes as shock that he might actually reach his destination and leave his car. And we get left behind.

What did you think?

Live Blogging Sin City: A Dame To Kill For

5 Replies

WARNING: MAJOR SPOILAGE AHEAD

Oh hello, old friend. Less than two minutes in and we have our first dead body. Love the feel of these movies, it’s instantly cool. Mickey Rourke as “Marv”. Familiar growl. Loving the stark contrast of the snowfall in black and white. This narrative is reminding me very much of the first one. Like, a LOT. Like, am I accidentally watching the first one?

Nope. It’s the second one. Jessica Alba’s still sexy. How many babies does she have now? Damn.

Oh shit. Man on fire. “Burning meat.” This explains the first dead body – a weird sense of vengeance. Good citizenry on Marv’s part. Ooooh, lots of breaking glass as he flies through the windshield. I hope that means this movie was released in 3D. Aaaannnnd there’s our first explosion, 4 minute mark.

Oooh, getting arrowed half to death, the noosed the rest of the way. And first slit throat, 5:10. White blood gushes toward me and splashes me with the fact that Marv has just murdered a “brand name” – and he happens to be wearing his coat. Oh that Marv. Conveniently can never remember a damn thing.

Credits: lots of old crew back. Some new faces. Tragically no Clive Owen. Stupid. Jeremy Piven? Seriously? Oh fuck. What have I gotten myself into?

Oooh, cool effect on the shuffling deck of cards. Like that.

Joseph Gordon Levitt. I like him. No replacement for Clive Owen, mind you. Looking very young in black and white. Not nearly jaded enough for this movie. He does have the smug asshole look down though. Been practicing that one in the mirror, eh, Joey?

I was super relieved not to see Rory Gilmore in these credits. Now we’re in a bar where we see some colour on the purty, near-naked ladies. Painted lips. Redheads.

Room full of card sharps. Look like white collar criminals by day. Still wearing their bankers’ shirts. Some heavy shit gambling going on in here. And Joey’s already raking in the chips while Jessie’s in another room with sexy laces all up her thighs, spying on the poker as it plays. Oh, Joey’s playing “the senator”. For HIGH stakes. Bound to be trouble. Jessie’s got a gun. Joey’s got the goods and leaves with lots of coin. A cop player warns him to run – he can’t protect him.

Jessica Alba’s back to dancing. Using the gun as a weird prop. And here enters King Willis. Jessica Alba is nearly ready to shoot the senator as he leaves but doesn’t. Bruce mentally whispers for her not to avenge him. It’s very dramatic, the mental whispering.

JGL is showing his floosie a good time on the town but then his credit cards go mysteriously bad. They’re beign followed and it “smells all wrong.” He confronts the thugs, as big as bulls, and takes them both down. Now he looks clean cut but menacing, a few hairs out of place. He gets into a car with the senator to “go downtown.”

“You made a fool of me, boy.” The senator is displeased. He’s brought pliers, so others will know that they shouldn’t fuck with power. Oh, yup, those fingers are messed the fuck up! And now he’s shooting him, just for good measure. Now everyone else will knowthe senator’s a super sore loser. What the what? Turns out JGL is “one of his” – ie, the senator’s son. One of many bastards apparently. Shit. Son vows vengeance and knowing this movie, there’ll be plenty of it.

Josh Brolin (Dwight) now, creeping on Ray Liotta and some young blonde. He vows this is the last time because his wife is making threats. Doesn’t stop him from taking her dress off. Josh Brolin taking secret pictures. Didn’t need to see Liotta’s ass, and neither do you. After one last (short) fuck, he’s forced to kill the girl to keep the secret so out comes the gun and – more breaking glass! – Clive Owen’s shitty replacement flies through the skylight to smash Liotta’s face in and save the dame, who, it turns out, is not a blonde, but a REDHEAD.

Some coloured neon lights in “old town”. More throaty narration. Dwight brings the photos to Liotta’s wife, having left him beaten and handcuffed to the bed. He’s dramatically remembering some terrible thing that he did (but not sharing it with us) – must be pretty bad because he calls himself a monster and screams into the night while kneeling next to a cliff. SUPER GODDAMNED DRAMATIC.

Back at the office, Dwight gets a call from Ava. Goes to meet her at a saloon. Jessica Alba (Nancy) is dancing in a red wig. Ava appears, blue coat, worth the wait. As tall as he is. Has been thinking of him. He still cares. She gets whisked away for unpleasant business. Dwight tries to talk himself out of it but has to follow her. Spies on her naked. Glorious. Worth the price of admission. Dwight is so enthralled by her luscious buttocks slicing through the pool water he gets surprised by henchmen and falls off the roof. She allows him to be beaten. Badly.

Tossed out of a car, looking pretty rough. His mustang mysteriously returned to him. Ava naked (with a cigarette) in his bed. Shadows in all the right places. Offers herself to him. He threatens to bash her teeth in. This seems to turn her on. He does in fact smack her good before they kiss. Blowie implied, reverse cowgirl, and then more standing around naked, her beautifully on display, him mercifully shadowed. Tells Dwight that her sadistic rich husband allows her to run away only because he knows she’ll always be found, and then disciplined with her transgressions. And then Manute shows up, or has always been there, and though he’s recently enjoyed beating the crap out of Dwight, he does it again, for good measure. More breaking glass as Dwight goes out the window.

Nancy in chaps. Dwight and Marv at the bar. Drinks. Dwight tells Marv about Ava and his eyes “go killer red.” They charge her compound. Two beasts beat the living crap out of each other. More breaking glass. One literally plucks a pulsing eyeball out of the other. Luc can tell by the look on my face that I’m not liking this bit. Meanwhile, Dwight seeks out the evil, rich husband who’s sitting around in his sexy satin robe. Some red blood. Ava is not really covered in a diaphenous robe that’s pleasingly see through and nipplerrific. She accuses Dwight of murdering an innocent man. Apparently this was her plan all along, and he’s made her a rich woman. She shoots him, vowing never to make her living on her back again. Boy he sure fell for her tricks. Aaaaand breaking glass. Jeez. You know you’re having a bad day when you fly through a window for, what? the third time?

Oh hot damn! Bullet in the eye. Didn’t need to see that. Love how he’s still breathily narrating away though. Tough old bugger. Eye for an eye, eh?

Ava is crying to the cops, fingering Dwight for the whole thing, wearing a few more clothes and not as much smutty lipstick. Tells them a whole tall tale. Jeremy Piven is as annoying as I imagined. Maybe more.

Marv is getting Dwight to a guy he knows who’s good with bullets. The girls of Old Town come out with their guns drawn. Rosario Dawson (Gail) in a weird S&M luchador mask.

Ava is naked again, in the bath. Smutty lipstick in place. Detective calls her. He’s also naked. The better to masturbate by? He’s “thinking about her” (this is code for has wood). She “can’t bear to be alone” which is code for : I wish to manipulate you and he and his wood go running.

Gail and her weird mullet just knew he’d be back. And deadly little Miho! Um, dude, she doesn’t recognize you because a) you used to have 2 eyes and b) you used to be handsome Clive Owen. Miho doesn’t kill him because he saved her ass when she was 15. It is unclear why she was threatening to kill him in the first place. He’s hanging around for “more surgery.”

The detective is of course in love with Ava. Is so turned on by her describing a fictitious rape that he has to fuck her on the spot (um, sensitivity training, anyone?) Even Jeremy Piven is disapproving. Detective humps like a dog. Dwight calls and she answers mid-hump. He’ll be coming for her soon. Ava wants the detecting to kill Dwight, but only if a) he’s a man and b) if he wants to ever fuck her again. Jeremy Piven for some reason just doesn’t understand and so he must die: shot through the eye. 3 eyes in under an hour, folks! Show of hands – who’s doinga happy dance that Piven’s already dead?

Oops. Detective puts gun to his own head. Misses his eyes but this one’s gone too.

Ava’s already loving up on warty mcwarterton – Stacy Keach unrecognizable as Wallenquist – who counsels her to procure Dwight’s suicide, and a suicide note confessing to her crimes. Luckily (I assume), Rosario Dawson is undercover (or simply making a quick couple of bucks) as a waitress at this shindig so when a sketchy dude gets off the train and meets Manute, she’s there to meet him in a blonde wig. The wig budget on this movie must be incredible. Rivals the prosthetic eye budget I bet.

And it turns out sketchy train dude is in fact Dwight, post-op. He has floppy hair now. Like Clive Owen? Except you wish! Manute sees right through the ruse. Henchman does not see through Rosario’s southern accent (possibly the leather bustier is helping). Miho, hiding in the trunk, swords him right through the neck. Sounds wet.

Guess who’s naked again! “You can’t make a sale without showing the goods.” Ava comes on to him and he actually has to steel himself not to fall all over her. Huge explosion. Breaking glass. Oh no, pretty naked girl will have scars! Wait, was that an arrow through the eye? Oh! Multiple beheading!

Manute is cocky – takes 6 shots, but not a single head wound. Four more will kill him though (again, I assume). The only 2 left standing, Dwight and Ava celebrate with a kiss. Their tongues are still touching when he pulls the trigger.

Hey. Little JGL is back, knocking on Doc Brown’s door. Doc Kroenig in this movie, I guess. Same crazy hair though. Jesus. “Sterilizes” the scalpel with a nice dirty rag wipe. Extricates the bullet in young Johnny’s leg. Trades his shoes to have his fingers straightened. It’s pretty awful. Now he’s shoeless and it’s raining and he’s feeling pretty sorry for himself when he remembers – the girl!

He goes to her, but daddy’s already gotten to her. Severed hand on the table. Wait. Two severed hands. And there’s her head. Severed. Little Johnny dives through an (open) window to escape. And all he can think about is gambling. Yes, gambling will be his salvation.

Oh shit. Lady Gaga and Madonna’s 1984 eyebrows make an unwanted appearance. She should stick to flushing her music “career” down the toilet. She gives him the buck he needs to get back int eh game.

Tracks daddy down. Gets into the game. Is dealt some good cards, real good, but keeps folding. Pourquoi?

He goes all in. Daddy has 4Kings. Baby has 4 Aces. Oh damn. Little Johnny wins and gets a bullet in the head. But it was a moral victory, right?

Meanwhile, Nancy is visiting Bruce Willis’s grave. He whispers more advice to her as his ghostly self. The senator is fixing to do away with her next – blames her for his yellow son’s death (remember the yellow dude from the first movie?). She’s been hitting the bottle, and the target range.

Nancy wants to show ghost Bruce Willis how she can take down a senator by “going crazy” and like all crazy women, she cuts her own hair. The senator pays her a visit and brings a good old fashioned switchblade. Seems to have the same obsession with making ladies scream as his yellow son. But the apparition was just a dream? I guess that’s why no one lost an eye.

Next stop on the way to crazy town: smashing your face into a mirror. Using broken mirror shard to cut own face. She’s all stitched up like Frankenstein’s monster and recruits Marv for backup. He’s game. An unexplained motorcycle gang is no obstacle at all.

“There’s no reason to leave anybody alive. Nobody’s innocent.”

When did Nancy learn to shoot a crossbow? She must be watching The Walking Dead. Marv just pops someone’s head. Like, crushes it until it bursts open. And chalk another one up for the eye count. Mirrors continue to be Nancy’s nemesis – she gets confused and in her undoing, the senator shoots her, then sexually harrasses her while she’s down.

Bruce Willis’s ghost to the rescue! The senator sees dead people. Nancy regains upperhand and kills him. Dirty rotten town. Roll credits.

What did I think?

This movies does little to improve upon the first.

“Rehash” comes to mind.

Tries to use women as more than props but given the nudity of our femme fatale, I’m not sure they’ve won any points.

Decent, I suppose, but hollow. The first one felt almost ground breaking, and this one just rode on its laurels. If you have 7 years between films, the audience is going to expect something more. Up the ante. This was just cashing a cheque.

Starred Up

3 Replies

I’m a sucker for any art form that has grit, character, heart and integrity. Starred Up has it all. Set in a modern day prison (Mark, this is what a real prison looks like) the story picks up as a 19 year old (Jack O’Connell) is sent to an adult prison for an undisclosed crime. From the beginning I was enthralled by the young O’Connell who not only plays his character with intensity and accuracy, but manages to be quite endearing regardless of his aggressive and sometimes unpredictable behaviour. It doesn’t take time for O’Connell to feel at home within the penitentiary walls. It’s almost like coming to prison was all part of a master plan to reunite with his estranged father. The cast, which I did not recognize by name but rather by previous works is composed of Rupert Friend (Homeland) Ben Mendelsohn (The Dark Night Rises, Killing Them Softly) is also quite stellar. Mendelsohn, who is serving time in prison, is tasked with playing O’Connell’s caring but ultimately inadequate father.

As part of the prison routine, O’Connell is forced to attend group therapy. In comes Rupert Friend, an ultra-caring counselor who seems to have O’Connell’s best interest at heart and shows hints of a checkered past himself and turns out to be our delinquent’s only chance at redemption. It’s safe to assume O’Connell has very little upbringing. His strengths consist of aggressiveness, fearlessness and a strong will to stand up for himself amongst a cohort of rapists, murderers and thieves.

For me, the true villain of this film is poor parenting, which left me with existential questions. For example, is it fair for a child to be thrown in prison because his father was an incompetent fuck? Is the prison system the right place for most criminals? Especially young ones. Are there any decent alternatives? And also, why is prison culture something we accept as a society? We are all aware that people get raped, stabbed, shanked, shived, beaten and even killed in prison. So why is that acceptable? Because they’re are criminals? That doesn’t fly with me.

Throughout the movie the director, David Mackenzie, tackles themes of abandonment, social justice, family and in the end our humanity. We all go through trials and tribulation but unfortunately who you were born to will, more often than not, tell you what your trials will be and what tribulations await.

I totally recommend this film to anyone who enjoys good cinema. The script, the cinematography (which I know very little about) the acting, and the soul of this movie were all very satisfying to me.

7.5 out of 10

Chef

The Theory of Everything

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Finally a movie that answers the age-old question: Does Stephen Hawking watch Dancing with the Stars?

Okay, no, it doesn’t answer that. But go ahead and assume yes.

More like, is Stephen Hawking kind of a dick?

You go into this movie knowing that, whatever else, there will be a sure thing on your ballet for this year’s Oscar pool: Eddie Redmayne has already won. You may be less prepared for the fact that at times this movie feels like a companion piece to Interstellar (and I mean that in a good way) and that when the lights come on during the end credits, you’ll be caught in a packed theatre with tears still wet on your face.

This movie is strikingly well-lit. I loved the lighting, the glow, it felt romantic, and helped you remember that in fact this is not so much a biopic as a love story between Dr Hawking and his first wife, Jane. Eddie Redmayne was fairly forgettable in Les Miserables but absolutely claims the screen in this role, capturing expressiveness even in stillness, and showcasing joy and wit not easily conveyed. Felicity Jones, as Jane, may take a back seat on paper, but her performance stands up every bit to his. It’s a subtle portrayal, but strong and sure. Stephen Hawking, the concept, the icon, belongs to us all, but Felicity Jones reminds us that he is a man, and once, he belonged just to her. And there’s so much vulnerability and heartbreak, as a couple once deeply in love are forced into the caretaker and reluctant patient role that chafes for both of them.

I haven’t read Jane Hawking’s book upon which this movie is based. She wrote an earlier one that was much less forgiving, painting Hawking as controlling and almost dictatorish, and you can kind of pick up hints of that even in this second, gentler version, his manipulation of events, his reluctance to express gratitude.

When Stephen and Jane are still a very young couple, Hawking’s father tries to warn her away, saying that this will not be a battle but rather a defeat. He’s wrong and he’s right. Because there is a battle. Stephen outlives the projection by 50 years (and counting). But love is simply not enough. We see love grow, and then wither. And so this movie works much better as a study of love’s ability to withstand challenges than as a traditional biopic. Because I have read A Brief History of Time, and though there are touches, this movie is really “science lite”. It glosses over some pretty major milestones if the measure is the man, and not his marriage. But this is not a story about the failure of marriage because even as it crumbles, it seems a triumph that it lasted at all, and certainly as long as it did.

I wondered what Marsh would make of this movie – he won an Oscar some time ago for his documentary, Man On Wire – but would his work translate? If this was anything other than a story of real, living people, of a living legend in fact, it would be less dazzling. Certainly we’ve got a couple of knock-out performances and some very pretty things to look at, period wise, and even a few well-timed chuckles and some gorgeous gothic backdrops, but pulled together, does it make a Best Picture? It’s hard to say, because of course this isn’t just another period romance, this is the Stephen Hawking story, or at least a piece of it, and it feels incomplete for having just skirted around the outside of his genius. The thing that makes him most remarkable is remarked upon the least, and that feels a bit hollow. I still liked this movie tremendously, and was moved by it, but I suppose I also mourn for the many missing pieces.

Gone Girl

8 Replies

I didn’t like the book. It was too slick. You see it coming a mile away. It felt like an airport book done up in a fancy dust jacket so we’d mistake it as “lit”. It wasn’t.

The movie? Trash. But exquisite,moody, sexy, noir trash that you can almost picture in a fast-talking, black and white, Hitchcockian way. Which is maybe what it should have been. Or maybe what it aspired to be.

It’s juicy and entertaining. The who-dunnit aspect is over surprisingly quickly, which is probably for the best since the book relied on the reader being really really dense and the movie gives us a bit more credit.

The movie succeeds with its portrayal of the media coverage of the disappearance of a beautiful blonde woman. Of course they’re going to jump allll down Ben Affleck’s throat, and of course Ben Affleck is a pretty good choice to play someone being hounded viciously by press (not to mention the brilliant casting of his chin!). The woman who does the Nancy Grace impression is spot-on. Rosamund Pike is also well-cast, and both she and Affleck handle their ever-evolving characters with subtety and competence. As an audience, we are constantly asked to re-assess what we feel about them as we learn more and like them less. Affleck excels at smug; Pike does chilling with panache. You can believe in the polarity of the characters, and that’s the hinge of the movie.

There’s a creepiness lurking about in this movie, even during the flashbacks to better times. They’re flirty, but they’re also just playing a game, and then that game gets serious, and then it gets out of control. Enter NPH, a slimy character if ever there was one. As much as I love me some NPH, I could have done with less of him in this movie, and more of Tyler Perry, playing a suave and yummy lawyer who takes the reins and steers Affleck confidently into manipulating the media.

The questions in this movie will make you squirm (although, the sheer length of the movie may already have had you squirming anyway). Do we ever really know our spouses? Can we? And what is “true self” anyway – if we present ourselve very carefully and consistently one way, isn’t that what we mean by “identity?” And if nothing else, the movie’s ending will leave you in agony. Sweet, sweet agony.

Interstellar

9 Replies

Chris Nolan is a closet softie, and a not-so-secret fan of the happy ending, and has now twice been given the opportunity to kill of Anne Hathaway and not taken it. Spoiler Alert! Catwoman lives!

I recently sat in the very packed IMAX theatre at SilverCity for three hours that didn’t quite feel as long as they were because Nolan packs a lot in his punch and there wasn’t much I would cut. Even from the vague trailers, you knew going in this was going to be an epic story.

Confession: I came out of the movie very frustrated with a certain paradox that the audience is just supposed to accept because some space cowboy told us so. It felt like lazy story-telling to me.

And also: this is a cold movie. You’re going to want to bring a sweater.

Back to the story. We are presented with a very dusty, dirty future where the only viable crop left is corn (sidebar: as someone who grew up among the rows of corn in a small town named after it, this feels to me less like the future and more like hell). McConaughey is a not-too-happy-about-it farmer when he stumbles upon an underground bunker containing not only NASA, but mankind’s only hope for survival, aka, a secret mission to outerspace! And even though just moments ago this mission was going full steam ahead without him because he didn’t even know it existed, his help becomes so necessary that, with the burden of extinction on his shoulders, he leaves his motherless children behind (in the grouchy old hands of John Lithgow) and takes off for the stars in a search for a suitable planet to call home.

Then this film becomes about difficult choices. They’ve got to be made. And so characters constantly wonder aloud – to whom do we owe the most, our children, our species, ourselves? Oh man. So hard. And as my lovely sister pointed out, in case you missed an important decision being pondered, the music swells in all the right places, and very probably, someone will begin dramatically reciting a Dylan Thomas poem though they will miss its point and use it in all the wrong contexts. But they’re scientists, goddammit, not artists. Scientists who miss glaringly obvious data for convenient plot twists, but still.

And the film is also about time. Not just time-is-running-out, though it is that too – the people on earth will not survive beyond existing generations. They are starving and suffocating. It’s about this “relativity” concept, how time runs differently out there, and just one ditzy-damsel-Anne Hathaway moment can cost McConaughey a decade with his kids. Those are maybe the most real moments of the film, when he’s just a father grappling with time’s passage, the agony of a sacrifice bigger than he ever knew or understood.

So yes. I had problems with how Nolan explains away the essential question of the film. He sets up something vague yet plausible but then ruins it with ego and pathos. I hated the basic premise of let’s throw away this earth and find another to rape and pillage. At times the film is downright bad (the “love transcends all” theme seems forced and childish and simplistic, and the ending is a little too Hollywood for my taste – Nolan, I expected better), but it’s also quite quite good in others. Visually stunning for sure. Haunting. Beautiful. Lonely in the right ways. And contains many nuggets of interest that are sure to be water-cooler talk for the rest of the month at least. Warts and all, it’s worth the watch.

St. Vincent

4 Replies

Reviewed by Jay

The plot here has the potential to be revolting – sweet lonely kid next door befriends curmudgeon; the world becomes a slightly better place. Luckily, in the hands of Bill Murray, the script mostly escapes cliche and is often sublime. This is Bill Murray at his Bill Murrayest. Nominate him for an Oscar right now. He won’t win, but it’s honour, blah blah blah.

Murray has great chemistry with the kid. But then again, if you stayed through the credits, you know he’s got great chemistry with a house plant. His character’s a mess, often literally (“Where’s all my dirt?), often bleeding and badly bandaged. Naomi Watts was a bit of a head-scratcher, playing a pregnant Russian hooker (with a heart of silver? bronze? aluminum?) with an accent verging on cartoonish. Melissa McCarthy is great in her role of newly-single mother. She feels a bit wasted on the role, playing it very straight, although it does bring welcome relief from her recent flood of obnoxious characters. Chris O’Dowd, playing man of cloth\teacher, is criminally underused. The audience eats him up every time he’s on screen. The kid is a delight, and not too obviously acting, so I’d like to shake his hand for that.

Bill Murray makes this movie. Kudos to the director for knowing he’s got a star vehicle and for finding the exact right star – the only star – for the role. Bill Murray does eccentric grumpy old man quite well. It’s a hoot to watch, every time. But it’s the tiny moments of gruff tenderness that blow you away.

It’s a little long for a comedy, but if a little long means Bill Murray bumbling his way through Bob Dylan, then so be it.