Monthly Archives: July 2015

Mark Wahlberg, Hollywood Pinup

Sure he’s got a slew of forgettable films, interchangeable even (do you know the difference between 2 Guns and Shooter?) but you have to admit, he’s also got some interesting blips.

Ted 2 is not an interesting blip, by the way. It’s pointlessly unamusing with all the same inane cameos as Entourage.

Palette cleanser!

Mark Wahlberg is a pretty straight-forward guy. He’s often not so much acting as working. You know, just showing up, gettin er done, home in time for spaghetti. He doesn’t always pick his projects with much judiciousness, he gets as many wrong as he gets right, but the stuff he gets right is actually pretty great. Like, two Oscar nominations great. Who would have guessed?

Blip: Boogie Nights – He was pretty good in Basketball Diaries and I suppose even in Renaissance Man, but Paul Thomas Anderson put Marky Mark on the map with this ode to the porn industry. Wahlberg’s portrayal is fearless and unassuming and no one saw it coming. The entire cast is stunning but few could have anticipated how well Wahlberg would hold his own against heavyweights like Julianne Moore and Philip Seymour Hoffman

Blip: I Heart Huckabees – I heart this movie right to death. David O. Russell gave Wahlberg a juicy part in Three Kings but this movie really hits it out of the park for me. His character is such an interestingly layered mix of macho and whimsical, fevered and confused. He’s a man on the cusp but manages to play his existential crisis with sincerity and commitment.

Blip: The Departed – Mark Wahlberg nearly steals the whole show for me in this one. The ensemble is crazy packed with exceedingly good performances, but his angry, explosive detective really takes the cake. He stole scenes not easily stolen. He clearly relished the role of Sgt. Dignam and you’ll find yourself not able, or willing, to take your eyes off him.

Blip: The Fighter – Christian Bale is probably the acting antithesis of Mark Wahlberg, being all method and shit. Bale took home an Oscar for his part but Wahlberg gave a captivating performance as well, throwing himself into the role and taking a pay cut just to get the thing made.

Is it weird that the guy who did the worst Transformers and talks to a vulgar teddy bear is neck in neck with Damon and DiCaprio for best actor of his generation? Of course it is. But his grosses are consistent and these flares that he keeps sending up, these blips of excellent roles, well, they’re coming regularly enough that you have to wonder if they’re not just blips. What if Marky Mark is the real deal?

Magic Mike XXL

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(You don’t have to watch this video, you should just hit play and let this be the soundtrack for the post)

I saw the first Magic Mike accidentally-on purpose and barely lived to tell the tale. I’d never meant to see the movie. Not my thing, and aside from a mild curiosity about Mr. McConaughey’s involvement, I could have lived a happy life never having seen it. But then one (Canadian) Thanksgiving we were drivi first ng home from Boston having just watched the Patriots slaughter the Broncos and stayed the night in a hotel (motel? Holiday Inn?) with very limited options. We ordered a not very good pizza and settled in to watch a not very good movie.

I’m just not titillated by male strippers. I’m not often titillated by the male body, period. I enjoy my husband’s body a great deal and could drink him in all day long, but that’s different. It’s not fetishistic. I have never seen a man who looks good in a thong. Never. And last night in Magic Mike XXL I saw at least a dozen buff men dancing around in them, and nothing. Well, not true. Nothing would be an upgrade. I was turned off. It’s a turn-off. And when the thing that’s meant to be sexy ends up soliciting a laugh instead, you’ve pretty much killed the moment.

And there was A LOT of moment-killing in this movie. Because the truth is, I’m not really excited by male dancers either. I mean, I’m pretty sure that 98% of male dancers are gay, and about 99.9% of male strippers are gay, and somehow this movie assembles America’s only hetero male entertainers into one beefy troupe, sharing chest-waxingly, body oilingly super straight good times. Me? I prefer a man who can’t dance. Can’t, but will. A man who can dance will always arouse my suspicions.

And while we’re at it, I’m not really into the whole hard body phenomenon either. I get that I’m supposed to find it attractive, but I just don’t. That body makes me think this guy is going to take me to dinner, order a salad with dressing on the side, and then pick at it while he sniffs at my bleeding steak. And that he’ll spend three hours a day at the gym, leaving me to watch The Mindy Project alone. And that his eyes will seek out his own reflection instead of mine. And what use is a man who isn’t checking me out?

So yeah, Magic Mike isn’t exactly aimed at people like me. I think it’s marketed to housewives but appreciated by a certain 10% of men who shall remain nameless. But they’re definitely doing their best to draw a female audience; certainly the female fans in the movie are more robust than ever, covering a multitude of body shapes and colours and ages (and a sinfully wonderful though underused Andie McDowell), speaking directly to the audience it hopes to tap. And this sequel is a little les magicgif s self-conscious than the first. It doesn’t get in on the joke exactly, but it takes itself a little less seriously, or at least that’s how I’ve interpreted the lack of script or plot.

Sorry Channing Tatum and company (the boys who didn’t have speaking parts in the first film but who must step up to fill the holes left by Matthew McConaughey and Alex Pettyfer in the second), but you aren’t exactly known for your improv prowess. But we all know the scenes between dance numbers are just filler, and this isn’t really even trying to be a movie so much as a soft-core musical montage. But every time the music started up, I blushed and averted my eyes. Oh lord, I’d think, again? Yes, again. And again. And again. There’s more self-fondling, shirt-ripping, edible props, self-tanner, and earnest eyebrow plucking than you can shake a stick at. Tatum’s convinced that you think he’s handsome in his backwards cap, and it becomes ubiquitous. There are so many gyrations with penis stand-ins that I couldn’t make eye contact with anyone for hours after leaving the theatre. I’m not a prude, I just have a low tolerance for people embarrassing themselves. I’m not sure if I’ve just seen the gayest straight movie or the straightest gay one, and it doesn’t really matter. This is just not a sausage party I care to be invited to.

Movies Based on Classic Literature (No Poems, No Plays)

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Thursday Movie Picks seemed tough this week at first. How many adaptations of really great books come close to doing their source material justice? I’m just proud of myself that I was able to come up with 3 without any Jane Austen.

The Grapes of Wrath (1940)– Probably my all-time favourite adaptation of a novel, director John Ford is just the right amount of faithful to Steinbeck’s classic. Screenwriter Nunnally Johnson was smart enough to know when best to let scenes play out nearly word for word as it did in the novel just as well as he knew when to let the movie when changes were needed. In 10 Movie Moments That Took My Breath Away, I listed Ma Joad’s burning of the old family photos as one of my all-time favourite scenes but now wish I had used the penny candy scene. There are so many perfect scenes in one of my favourite movies based on one of my favourite books.

Apocalypse Now (1979)– Francis Ford Coppola put his career and sanity on the linein his re-imagining of Conrad’s Heart of Darkness set during the Vietnam War. With all the script and cast changes that plagued the production, it’s a Hollywood miracle that Apocalypse Now is even watchable, let alone an American classic. Even the Marlon Brando part works for me.

Clueless (1995)– It’s easy to forget that Clueless is a modern adaptation of… damn. Okay, I guess I couldn’t completely escape Jane Austen. It’s supposed to be an adaptation of Emma, the only book of my three picks that I have not read, so I’m not sure how faithful it is. I’m guessing not very. But it is hilarious, quotable, and one of the few teen comedies I can think of that encourages us to learn a new word every day. It also features a young Paul Rudd (who has barely changed), an adorable Brittany Murphy, and a scene-stealing performance by Dan Hedaya.

I Missed Him Again?!?!: Annie Hall and Why Jeff Goldblum is my Polkaroo

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According to IMDB and the closing credits of Annie Hall, Jeff Goldblum appears in the film’s LA party scene and I always forget to watch out for him. Watching the credits about twenty minutes later, I always throw up my hands in frustration thinking “I missed him again?!?!”

Annie Hall has a lot of moments like that. It’s another movie that I make a point of revisiting about once a year and, unlike Citizen Kane, I rarely look forward to it. I seem to keep remembering Woody Allen’s examination of a relationship that’s run its course as more depressing than it actually is. I remember Alvy’s anxieties, Annie’s depression, and how sad it is to watch these two inevitably grow apart. Sure, this is 1977 Woody Allen (long before his movies started becoming no fun at all) so there are lots of laughs throughout to make it all go down easier but surely I must see all those coming by now.

What I keep forgetting, besides that I’m supposed to be on Goldblum watch, is how many funny moments Allen works in. Some are funny because they’re true, others because they’re outrageous, but nearly every scene hsa something to laugh about. So many of them still catch me off guard after all these years. This time it was “You’re what my Grammy would call a real Jew” that really got me. I even somehow forgot all about Christopher Walken’s scene. There really are a lot of gifts for the audience in this movie and, watching it today, I realize what a positive note it ends on. I’m already looking forward to next year.

You won’t get away from me next time, Jeff Goldblum!

Happy Canada Day!

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It’s rainy and gray in the Nation’s Capital (a perfect movie day, some might say – Magic Mike, anyone?) and what better way to celebrate our fine country’s 148th year than with a great source of national pride – Blame Canada, as it appeared in the glorious 1999 film South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut.

This song was actually nominated for an Oscar that year, controversial because how on earth would they perform let alone televise a song that contained the gleeful use of the word FUCK? So they called in Mr. Squeaky Clean himself, Robin Williams, who turned his back to the audience at the crucial moment and allowed a backing chorus to gasp in its place. They left in all the best insults against former first lady Margaret Trudeau, Bryan Adams, Celine Dion, and of course that bitch Anne Murray too (who went on record as officially “not offended”).