REVIEW: J. Edgar

J. Edgar (2011): Dir. Clint Eastwood. Written by: Dustin Lance Black. Starring: Leonardo DiCaprio, Armie Hammer, Naomi Watts and Judi Dench. Rated R (Language). Running time: 137 minutes.

2 ½ stars (out of four)

Leonardo DiCaprio assumes the titular role in J. Edgar, Clint Eastwood’s stately biopic about the former head of the FBI. The film consists mostly of routine biopic fare but also finds room for some deeply Freudian moments that flesh out some of the less factually certain details of J. Edgar Hoover’s personal life.

The film opens in the late 1960s as Hoover nears retirement and DiCaprio resembles Orson Welles’s Charles Foster Kane more than a little as he shuffles around Hoover’s Washington office buried under prosthetics. Hoover dictates his biography to a revolving series of interns and the film uses this framework to launch into flashbacks that detail the formation of the FBI and Hoover’s subsequent efforts to improve and perfect the Bureau.

In these flashbacks we are introduced to all the salient players in Hoover’s life: his personal assistant Helen Gandy (Naomi Watts), his mother (Judi Dench) and FBI Assistant Director Clyde Tolson (Armie Hammer). Meanwhile the film addresses still relevant issues of national security when they were in their formative years of debate and controversy. To what degree must the American people’s privacy be sacrificed in order to protect the country from its enemies? Hoover’s insistence on obtaining information at whatever cost can be viewed as a sort of early Patriot Act philosophy but Eastwood presents this from a historical, not allegorical, perspective.

Hoover also understood the importance of good PR and much time is spent on the media spectacle that was the Lindbergh baby kidnapping, one of the first opportunities for the then-young FBI to prove its worth to a captivated public. Eastwood also has some fun depicting the FBI’s tenuous relationship with Hollywood and the movies’ representation of gangsters and G-men. Many of these scenes engage in the self-conscious reminders that we are watching a historical drama that have become typical of a big-budget biopic. Some of these moments are playful (Hoover’s radical idea of creating a centralized database of so-called “finger imprints” is met with much reluctance) while others are tedious (when talking to Bobby Kennedy, Hoover has to clarify that he means the President when he says, “your brother”).

Though J. Edgar enters decidedly murkier territory in terms of historical accuracy when presenting Hoover’s personal life, the film finds its stride dramatically when it strays from the strict facts. Judi Dench smolders and snarls with maternal oppression as Anne Marie Hoover, whose relationship with her son (mostly depicted in scenes set in her bedroom) seems eerily intimate yet cold. Despite their closeness (Hoover continues to live with his mother long after most birds choose to leave the nest), she has little regard for her son’s emotions.

The same cannot be said of Clyde Tolson, whom Hoover takes on as his right-hand man early on and quickly forms a deep friendship with. Their relationship, which always seems on the verge of blossoming into something more but never quite does, provides J. Edgar with its emotional core; the pair’s scenes of understated flirtation are among the best in the film. Armie Hammer, whose face resembles that of a Ken doll – both rugged and smoothly plastic – had a star turn playing opposite himself as the Winklevoss twins in last year’s The Social Network and again reminds us how important a strong supporting performance can be. In his scenes with Hammer, DiCaprio loosens up and gives his portrayal of Hoover some much needed warmth and humanity. Underneath the hard-edged FBI director, DiCaprio finds an emotionally complex man.

Unfortunately the film never convincingly pulls these two halves of Hoover – the professional and the personal – into a coherent whole. The script, written by Dustin Lance Black (who won an Oscar for his Milk screenplay) feels disjointed. The film does not fully connect the anguish of Hoover, the private citizen, to the ambition of Hoover, the public figure; there is no Rosebud to provide us the narrative key into his life story. Had the screenplay been better focused, these contradictions of character might have made a scintillating portrait, but though the film offers some fascinating anecdotes and plenty of austere reminders of Hoover’s historical legacy, the man himself remains an elusive figure.

- Steve Avigliano, 11/18/11

REVIEW: A Very Harold & Kumar 3D Christmas

A Very Harold & Kumar 3D Christmas (2011): Dir. Todd Strauss-Schulson. Written by: Jon Hurwitz and Hayden Schlossberg. Starring: John Cho, Kal Penn, Neil Patrick Harris, Thomas Lennon, Amir Blumenfield and Danny Trejo. Rated R (An endless night of debauchery including drugs, cursing, sex and tasteless humor). Running time: 89 minutes.

3 stars (out of four)

In A Very Harold & Kumar 3D Christmas, Santa smokes from a bong, a claymation penis leaps off the screen and an infant tries every party drug your D.A.R.E. instructor warned you about, mercifully not all in the same scene. These are hardly the funniest moments in the movie nor are they even the most ridiculous, which should say something about the spectrum of insanity on display here. AVH&K3DC is ruder, cruder and in general escalates the crazy compared to the previous two installments of the stoner buddy comedy franchise. To say that the film was made to seen in a specific state of mind goes without saying, but the film, in its giddy willingness to do anything and everything for a laugh, gives off an intoxicating effect all its own. Just watching the movie gives you a sort of contact high.

Of course, none of the film’s THC-induced antics would work were they not funny. And AVH&K3DC is very funny. Its breakneck pace is a major asset to its success because no gag runs the risk of overstaying its welcome. Didn’t think that perverse twist on a classic scene from A Christmas Story was all that funny? Maybe you thought that bit about nuns crossed the line? Not to worry. That was already two jokes ago and the movie is onto something new. And unlike a lot of comedies that offer equivalent jpm (jokes per minute), the hit-to-miss ratio here is high in favor of laughter.

The manic pacing and style of the movie works also because the plot is pushed so far into the realm of the absurd that there is no chance anything will be taken too seriously. Writers Jon Hurwitz and Hayden Schlossberg (who have written all three films) have wisely upped the stakes with each passing movie (from a late-night trip to White Castle to a brush-up with the government in Guantanamo Bay to this) and have successfully kept the franchise fresh rather than retreading familiar material.

What’s truly astonishing though is how our hazy heroes, Harold (John Cho) and Kumar (Kal Penn), remain grounded in reality even as the world around them careens out of control. There are some genuinely touching moments between the two (usually offset by a gross-out gag to avoid sentimentality) and the strength of their friendship lies at the heart of these films.

As is typical for a Harold & Kumar film, there is also a dash of social commentary, though this outing’s racial-political consciousness is far more muted than before. The movie pokes fun at racial stereotypes and the casual prejudices people harbor in modern-day America but these concerns do not pervade the film’s humor, which mostly prefers to indulge in the raunchy and juvenile. Of the film’s women I will not elaborate other than to say that they are merely marginalized rather than degraded; take that for what it’s worth. AVH&K3DC is smarter than your average male-dominated raunchfest but isn’t trying to reinvent the wheel; it’s still very much in love with its lowbrow self.

The use of 3D is a silly gimmick but in a way (and bear with me for a moment here) is kind of groundbreaking. The effect, often toted as an immersive technology is self-consciously acknowledged in both the dialogue and its actual execution. In one scene, for example, a traffic cone is hurled toward us only to crash against the camera and crack the lens. The movie calls attention to the artifice of 3D and then uses that as a tool to further its self-referential nature.

The Harold & Kumar franchise continues to reshape itself in new and unexpected ways and if there is a fourth film (Neil Patrick Harris, again playing a hilarious Bizarro version of himself, flat out announces in this film that there will be a fourth) there may need to be a more substantial story, but this episode should not disappoint fans of the previous two. It is a wild and reckless blur of a movie that defies my better judgment and admittedly made me a laugh a whole lot. It understands the importance of brevity, doesn’t try too hard and is a wholly satisfying, smoky affair.

- Steve Avigliano, 11/9/11

REVIEW: Tower Heist

Tower Heist (2011): Dir. Brett Ratner. Written by: Ted Griffin and Jeff Nathanson. Starring: Ben Stiller, Eddie Murphy, Casey Affleck, Alan Alda, Matthew Broderick, Téa Leoni, Michael Peña, Gabourey Sidibe. Rated PG-13 (Language). Running time: 104 minutes.

½ star (out of four)

In Tower Heist, Ben Stiller plays Josh Kovacs, the manager of an upper crust New York apartment building called The Tower whose employees’ pensions are collateral damage in a Ponzi scheme that Josh invested in years earlier. The scheme’s mastermind is Wall Street billionaire Arthur Shaw (Alan Alda), a tenant of The Tower and personal mentor to Josh. Devastated by the betrayal and feeling responsible for the financial well being of his employees, Josh sets out to rob Shaw’s apartment and seek vengeance on behalf of the working class.

This would-be feel-good premise is fatally flawed by the film’s execution. Directed by Brett Ratner, who previously helmed the illustrious Rush Hour Trilogy, and written by Ted Griffin and Jeff Nathanson, Tower Heist features scene after scene of bad ideas that all look terribly expensive. The movie is clearly trying to cash in on current anti-Wall Street sentiments with a big budget action comedy and the result is as off-putting as it is unfunny. This is a multi-million dollar product being sold under the guise of blue-collar wish fulfillment, a hypocrisy produced by and starring one-percenters.

I say this not to fan the flames of cinematic class warfare but to reveal the absurdity of this bloated affair. How was it not obvious to Mr. Ratner that the mere price tag of an extraneous (and uninspired, I might add) car chase would undermine the moral of this supposed David and Goliath story? His approach would have seemed out of touch had it been even half as well executed as any of his Rush Hour movies. That the film is a lazy, unimaginative mess makes it something of an insult to its audience.

Even the stars of Tower Heist seem keenly aware of the turgid state of this production. Ben Stiller, who has written, directed and starred in a number of very funny movies, must have understood what a humorless disaster this script was. His performance lacks his normal energy and commitment to character; at times he looks almost regretful towards the whole thing. His costar Matthew Broderick, who plays a bankrupt ex-broker and assistant to the heist, is even worse. He looks so bored with the material you can almost see him planning out the rest of his day.

Then there is Eddie Murphy, who has a fairly minor role despite his prominence in the film’s marketing. He plays Slide, a small time thief who lives on Josh’s block. When time comes to get an expert to help with the heist, Josh naturally bails the only black guy he knows out of jail. Slide is a one-dimensional caricature and subject of several strangely dated race jokes. He wears a do-rag, describes how a homie of his was shot in the face and says the N-word exactly two and a half times for no comedically apparent reason. There is no hint of irony or self-aware political incorrectness about the character – just straight-up racist stereotype. Eddie Murphy’s appearance here depresses me more than any of the myriad of duds he has starred in over the last decade. If his performance gets any laughs, it is only because his fast-talking shtick is vaguely reminiscent of a once beloved comedian.

Tower Heist is a tired collection of genre clichés and half-baked ideas so insultingly bad that you want vent your anger out on the kid working the concession stand as you leave the theater. But don’t take it out on him. Tower Heist is not his fault. Believe it or not, as he stood idly selling $6 buckets of popcorn he may have even been more bored during the 104 minutes it took to watch Tower Heist than you were.

- Steve Avigliano, 11/9/11

REVIEW: Paranormal Activity 3

Paranormal Activity 3 (2011): Dir. Ariel Schulman and Henry Joost. Written by: Christopher B. Landon. Starring: Chloe Csengery, Jessica Tyler Brown, Christopher Nicholas Smith and Sprague Grayden. Rated R (Language and some bedroom foreplay). Running time: 84 minutes. 

2 stars (out of four)

Paranormal Activity 3 is a clumsy movie, an ungainly series of more or less detached scenes dutifully strung together into a something that only roughly resembles a narrative. The premise, warmed over from the last two installments, will be familiar to anyone who has seen one or both of those films: a spectral presence visits upper-middle-class suburbia and its phantom interactions with creaky doors and kitchenware are recorded with admirable thoroughness by a man with a camera fetish.

The footage of these paranormal shenanigans has been found and conveniently edited for us into a manageable 80-odd minutes though who found and edited the material is a mystery the film is not interested in solving. The opening scene reveals that the videotapes we are watching were stolen from the family in Paranormal Activity 2’s house so perhaps the phantom itself has gone through the trouble of editing the film! Or perhaps I’m asking too many questions.

The year is 1988 and the house haunted is that of Katie (Chloe Csengery) and Kristi (Jessica Tyler Brown), younger versions of the hapless heroines from Paranormal Activity 1 and 2, respectively. You will recall that the events of those films were not Katie and Kristi’s first interactions with the ghostly creature. The demon had previously plagued their childhood and the details of that initial encounter are the focus of this film.

The man with the camera this time is Dennis (Christopher Nicholas Smith), the boyfriend of the girls’ mother (Sprague Grayden). When young Kristi’s nighttime chats with an imaginary friend named Toby coincide with some unusual occurrences in the house, Dennis decides to set up a few tripods and use his totally neat VHS camcorder to get to the bottom of things.

What follows is a standard collection of “Boo!” moments, two of which are fake-outs so uninspired they actually consist of characters jumping in front of the camera and shouting “Boo!” These moments are effective, I suppose, but offer little that can’t be replicated by a visit to a haunted house. Clearly the filmmakers want to develop the mythology of the series (thus the prequel for this outing) but if this is the case there needs to be more intrigue and less cheap scares.

I don’t mean to say that an elaborate plot is necessary or even wanted for this sort of film. There is nothing inherently wrong with spooking audiences just for the fun of it. But there is a fine line between tension and tedium and too often PA3 confuses the two. For lengthy stretches of the film, nothing happens. Yes, this means you may be caught off guard when a scare comes but the effect is a little like lulling someone to sleep only to shake them violently when their eyelids shut. There is no craft or skill involved.

I will say that the last fifteen minutes are not awful. There is a decently choreographed and minimally annoying use of first-person shaky-cam (carefully edited to look like one long take) but the sequence stands alone. It is one scene of momentarily effective filmmaking, solid technique stranded without a narrative.

If you enjoyed the second film there is no overwhelming reason to skip this one. In a number of subtle ways, PA3 is more inventive than its predecessor but it is also less satisfying. The film is a mostly joyless execution of sudden movements and loud bangs, and ends abruptly without really going anywhere.

There is one other part of the film I want to mention, something that has become an odd trend in all the Paranormal Activity movies. There are scenes in this film when we watch Dennis watching the footage from the previous night. For what purpose would he film himself at such a moment? When would he ever need to go back and watch this? It doesn’t make much sense in the context of the film and isn’t any fun to watch. Part of me is tempted to interpret these scenes as some sort of odd, misplaced postmodern comment on a culture of pervasive recording and watching. Mostly though, I suspect it is simply misguided filmmaking.

- Steve Avigliano, 10/29/11

REVIEW: The Ides of March

The Ides of March (2011): Dir. George Clooney. Written by: George Clooney, Grant Heslov and Beau Willimon. Based on the play, Farragut North by Beau Willimon. Starring: Ryan Gosling, George Clooney, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Paul Giamatti, Marisa Tomei, Jeffrey Wright and Evan Rachel Wood. Rated R (language and some sexuality). Running time: 101 minutes.

3 stars (out of four)

In the months building up to a presidential election, the 24-hour news machine can feel so much like entertainment – politicians debate on live TV and commentators subsequently debate the candidates’ worth with sensationalized talking points and colorful graphics – that a film about the primary election process may almost feel redundant. Released in time to coincide with the growing media hullabaloo that marks the start of the 2012 presidential race, The Ides of March, a soapy political thriller directed by George Clooney, is less interested in the candidates of its fictional political world and the issues they discuss than the web of campaign managers and advisors who pull the strings behind the scenes.

At the center of that web for Democratic Pennsylvania Governor Mike Morris (George Clooney) is a talented young campaign manager named Stephen Myers (Ryan Gosling) and Paul Zara (Philip Seymour Hoffman), a campaign veteran and Myers’s boss. These two are responsible for getting the aforementioned media machine to work in Morris’s favor – that is to say, their favor – and ensuring a victory at the polls. Assisting them is a team of hard-working interns, including Molly Stearns (Evan Rachel Wood), daughter of DNC chairman Jack Stearns (Gregory Itzin).

The film focuses on a coveted primacy race in Ohio where Morris holds a tentative lead over Arkansas Senator Ted Pullman (Michael Mantell). An endorsement from one Senator Thompson (Jeffrey Wright), a powerful figure in the Democratic Party, would all but seal the nomination for Morris. That is, unless Pullman secures Thompson’s support first.

Posing a threat to the Governor and his team is Pullman’s campaign manager, Tom Duffy (a wonderfully gruff Paul Giamatti), who has his eyes on Myers. He wants Myers to jump ship on Morris’s campaign and work for him, but Myers is an idealist. He believes in Morris. This idealism prompts the derision of Ida Horowicz (Marisa Tomei), a New York Times writer who pries Myers and Zara for leads about their campaign strategies. She reminds Myers that Morris is a politician like any other and dismisses his faith in Morris as little more than starry-eyed naiveté.

Clooney’s Morris is a bit of an idealized figure. A staunch liberal, Morris proclaims that he is not a religious man but believes in the people’s right to practice any and all faiths. He calls for an end to America’s addiction to foreign oil, for industry-minded emphasis on burgeoning technologies, and for a revised economic system that ensures Americans pay their “fair share” of taxes. He is a frank, good-humored, sane and reasonable man. He is, in other words, an utterly unelectable figure in anything resembling the real world. Morris is a sort of Übermensch for Clooney, a romantic vision of his ideal politician. The improbability that such a politician could ever make it as far as Morris does in pursuit of the Presidency is not addressed in The Ides of March.

This unlikelihood is not so important to the film’s success, however, because Clooney’s ultimate message transcends political partisanship. His focus is not on the warring ideals that are currently causing our political system to sputter and stall but on the even dirtier infighting between career-minded advisors.

In its second half, The Ides of March flirts with soap opera levels of blackmailing and dirty laundry, which serves both to widen the film’s appeal to less politically-savvy audience members while also limiting the credibility of its arguments. Clooney need not go to such overdramatic lengths to illustrate how American politics are driven by personal ambition, though such sensational additions do make for an exciting movie.

As a director Clooney is sharp and confident and he stays focused on his cold perspective of the political game. The film’s visual style complements this; steely grays and blues are offset by the red and white stripes that necessarily pervade the background of a given shot.

The cast, it should go without saying, is exceptional. Philip Seymour Hoffman gives lessons on how to command the screen with characteristic effortlessness, and the ubiquitous Ryan Gosling continues to make a strong case for being the most reliable star of his age. (Your move, Leo.)

So although The Ides of March is a more than capable film, executed with skill and efficiency, it is also a difficult film to embrace. Clooney presents an unforgivingly cynical portrait of American politics but offers little in the way of hope for the future. If one wants to stay in the business of politics, ideals must be compromised (or thrown violently out the window as the case may be). Such news should hardly come as a revelation to anyone; what we need now are some suggestions on how to improve the state of things.

- Steve Avigliano, 10/10/11

REVIEW: 50/50

50/50 (2011): Dir. Jonathan Levine. Written by: Will Reiser. Starring: Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Seth Rogen, Anna Kendrick, Bryce Dallas Howard, Anjelica Huston, Phillip Baker Hall and Matt Frewer. Rated R (Medicinal drug use, language and sexuality). Running time: 100 minutes.

3 ½ stars (out of four)

50/50 takes typically melodramatic material and, with keen emotional insight and a collection of strong performances, avoids the cheap sentimentality that often comes with a film about cancer. Largely a comedy, the film takes time for some well-earned tear-jerking scenes in its last third. A product of Judd Apatow’s extended family (frequent Apatow collaborator Evan Goldberg produced the film along with Seth Rogen, who also co-stars), 50/50 explores the bonds of friendship (call it a bromance if you must), romantic love and family when put under the strain of a debilitating disease.

Adam (played by Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is a young Seattleite who works in public radio with his best bud Kyle (Rogen). Adam and his girlfriend Rachel (Bryce Dallas Howard) are entering the domestic stage of their relationship – she is flattered to learn he has made space for her clothes in one of his dresser drawers – though Kyle has some choice words regarding Rachel’s prudishness and Adam’s flagging sex life.

Still, life appears to be as good as it gets for a hip, well-dressed twentysomething such as Adam. That is, until he receives the unfortunate diagnosis from his doctor. He has a malignant tumor on his spine. The news creates serious ripples in his personal life and each of those closest to him react differently.

Kyle is perhaps even more distraught than Adam but, like a true friend, he is quick to provide distractions. Does Adam realize, for example, how easy picking up chicks will be when they hear he has cancer? Not to mention the medicinal marijuana. Rogen is in goofy best friend mode here (something he does exceedingly well) and his bumbling stoner cadence is just right to diffuse potential melodrama and lighten the mood for his pal.

The other members of Adam’s support circle are less reliable. Rachel may not be as prepared for the difficulties of chemotherapy as she claims and Adam’s overbearing mother (Anjelica Huston) only makes him more anxious with her persistent maternal worries.

Two older gentlemen Adam meets in chemotherapy, Alan (Phillip Baker Hall) and Mitch (Matt Frewer), offer a more understanding perspective. They know how painful the treatment can be and assuage Adam’s fears with jokes and homemade weed macaroons.

Adam also starts seeing a hospital therapist, Katherine (Anna Kendrick), a doctorate student still new to treating actual patients. She accurately identifies Adam’s reactions to the disease by pointing out the stages of shock and anger to him but her textbook approach is hardly comforting. Indeed, the two learn from one another and tiptoe around the patient/therapist relationship while laying the groundwork for a possible romance.

Kendrick, who received an Oscar nomination for her performance as a calculating but ultimately naive businesswoman in Up in the Air, plays a softer shade of that character here. She has a wonderful way of using the tics and fidgets of uncomfortable social interactions to flesh out a character. Underneath the cutesy-perky energy of her characters, she finds the tension between their emotional vulnerability and the sterile professionalism they have been told to exhibit.

As a lead, Joseph Gordon-Levitt skillfully navigates the film’s tonal shifts between comedy and drama. His shell-shocked response to the diagnosis works well as a comedic foil for Seth Rogen but Gordon-Levitt also has the chops to handle the heavier material. Adam’s silence is punctuated by outbursts of rage and fear late in the film as the gravity of his situation becomes clearer.

50/50 deftly examines the emotional turmoil of cancer treatment though it mostly does so through the familiar mechanisms of a romantic comedy structure. All of the pieces are in place – the best friend, the waning relationship and the new romantic prospect on the rise – but they are more effective here than in similar films because the emotions are authentic. Either 50/50 is a heartfelt drama that conforms to Hollywood conventions or a rom-com imbued with surprising genuineness. Whichever way you prefer to look at it, this is an entertaining and thoughtful film about the unexpected complications life throws our way and the strength of human connection in difficult times.

- Steve Avigliano, 10/2/11

REVIEW: Contagion

Contagion (2011): Dir. Steven Soderbergh. Written by: Scott Z. Burns. Starring: Marion Cotillard, Matt Damon, Laurence Fishburne, Jude Law, Gwyneth Paltrow, Kate Winslet. Rated PG-13 (Language and gruesome symptoms). Running time: 106 minutes.

3 stars (out of four)

During a quiet scene in Contagion, the new film from director Steven Soderbergh, I became acutely aware of every sound in the theater – every crinkle of a wrapper, every clearing of a throat – and realized the film was doing what it was intended to do.

Early on in Contagion there is a reference to Jaws that reveals the film’s aim. Similar to how that Spielberg classic played on our fear of the open ocean and made audiences think twice before the next time they went for a dip, Contagion takes a common fear – a worldwide virus outbreak – and crafts an effective thriller around it. We learn in the film that we touch our faces hundreds of times per day, (a point reinforced by frequent close-ups of hands), an unconscious habit that allows for the rapid spread of disease. With that information planted in our minds, each cough and sniffle in the film (deliberately foregrounded in the audio mix) become Contagion’s fin in the water – a sign of impending danger.

The film builds its queasy energy by assembling several storylines with characters that are connected by the mysterious disease. There is the American (Gwyneth Paltrow) whose business trip to Hong Kong may be responsible for the initial spread of the disease. Her husband (Matt Damon) and daughter (Anna Jacoby-Heron) provide the emotional arc of the film as they grapple with day-to-day life while the virus takes hold of the country.

On the bureaucratic end of things are Dr. Cheever (Laurence Fishburne) and his protégé Dr. Mears (Kate Winslet) of the Center for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) who investigate the disease in pursuit of a cure. Assisting in that goal are researchers Ian Sussman (Elliott Gould) and Dr. Hextall (Jennifer Ehle) as well as French correspondent Dr. Orantes (Marion Cotillard) whose investigation of the outbreak’s source in Hong Kong takes an unexpected turn.

Meanwhile, a vicious blogger named Alan Krumwiede (Jude Law) scrutinizes the CDC’s every move and makes allegations of a partnership between the government and pharmaceutical companies. He is a political revolutionary of the modern age whose shocking online posts bring new meaning to the phrase ‘viral videos.’

Krumwiede is one of the film’s many insistent (bordering on incessant) reminders that the film takes place in the present day. Information is obtained and spread through video surveillance, texting, Twitter and other technological advancements familiar to most Millennials. These contemporary details are pervasive to the point of being overwhelming, though perhaps that’s the point. Much of the film’s dialogue blows by in a flurry of acronyms and multisyllabic mouthfuls, a fair dramatization of information overload in the Internet Age.

Soderbergh handles this material well, though. His frenetic style makes sense of the chaos unfurling onscreen and pulls the film’s many characters together into a cogent whole. He balances tense scenes of frayed nerves and frantic phone calls with more sober moments of investigative reporting that plunge into the murky realm of geopolitics without getting didactic.

Emphasis on international affairs does lead to an inherent lack in human empathy. The film is more interested in presenting the inner workings (and subsequent failings) of government agencies than telling a story about individuals. Soderbergh explores the ways in which these agencies communicate with one another to find a balance between law and moral order when catastrophe strikes. Contagion is critical of the layers of red tape that prevent decisive action but never villainizes any of its characters.

On further reflection, the earlier comparison to Jaws is not a perfect one. In 1975, that film created – or at least propagated – a fear of shark attacks. The terror lurking behind every scene of Contagion, however, does not originate with the film but rather is one that has already attained a level of omnipresence in our lives. Whether the threat of a pandemic is just media noise or indeed the fate of mankind remains to be seen. Either way, Contagion thoroughly documents that fear for future generations and offers a chilling apocalyptic tale in the meantime.

- Steve Avigliano, 9/13/11

REVIEW: One Day

One Day (2011): Dir. Lone Scherfig. Written by David Nicholls, based on his novel. Starring Anne Hathaway, Jim Sturgess, Ken Stott, Patricia Clarkson and Rafe Spall. Rated PG-13 (Some sexuality and skinny dipping, but nothing too explicit). Running time: 108 minutes.

1 ½ stars (out of four)

One Day, a new Will They/Won’t They/Of Course They Will romance directed by Lone Scherfig and starring Anne Hathaway and Jim Sturgess, spans twenty years in the lives of its characters. Adapted by David Nicholls from his novel, the film begins on July 15, 1988, the day on which posh Brits Emma (Hathaway) and Dexter (Sturgess) are formally introduced following their college graduation. They nearly go to bed together but decide instead to just be good friends which makes One Day a sort of No Strings Attached or Friends With Benefits for audiences who prefer watching struggling artists to Ashton Kutcher.

The film checks back in with Emma and Dexter once a year on that same day – July 15 – and we follow their up-and-down, back-and-forth friendship that just might be the seed of a beautiful romance if they can ever get over themselves long enough to realize they are in a movie that demands they fall in love.

Emma is a shy, bookish girl who moves to London to become a poet and complains a year later that the city has “swallowed her up” when she is stuck waiting tables at a kitschy Tex-Mex restaurant. She both envies and resents (with equally strong levels of self-pity) the comparative success of her best friend and would-be lover, now a wealthy TV personality for a schlocky late night program. The film never adequately explains how Dexter gets such a cushy job, though he is quite charming in a sleazy way.

Jim Sturgess is just right for this type of character. His dashing looks (not to mention that accent, ladies!) give him a boy-next-door appeal that should be at odds with the character’s Casanova womanizing but somehow balance one another out in Sturgess’s sly smile. Anne Hathaway, a master of the shy, bookish girl (let’s not mention her accent, though!) is perfectly comfortable and oh-so-cute in her exasperated fits and dignified prudishness. The two are ideal romantic foils according to the opposites-always-attract logic of Movie Land.

Unfortunately, the script forces them to deliver a constant flow of exposition necessary to fill in the gaps between each July 15. Scene after scene the two young actors labor to spit out backstory in way that roughly resembles how people talk to one another. Occasionally, we learn that nothing interesting has happened since the previous year. At least once, a major plot point occurs during the in-between and is only casually alluded to despite its seemingly pivotal significance. Having such a crucial event happen off-screen would surely be the film’s biggest dramatic blunder were it not for the final twenty minutes, a contrived and predictable mess of an ending.

The problem is that One Day has nothing interesting to say about life and love; its observations about relationships are hackneyed and obvious. Time goes on, people change, life happens. And the film is just pretentious enough to believe these points can only be made through its tiresome structure. (It’s the same day – but different!) Last year’s Blue Valentine, an exceedingly better “love through the years” film, has similar things to say but understands how the nuances and complexities of human relationships shape our lives. By comparison, the characters in One Day are stiff, lifeless extensions of the plot.

Of course, Blue Valentine’s bitter take on love lost does not suit One Day’s sentimental aims. This is a hack job melodrama that places no trust in its audience to understand where emotional parts are. Strings doused in syrup accompany nearly every scene, overplaying the manufactured mush of the plot when it should be allowing its leads to actually, you know, fall in love.

As the film’s annual progression churns forward, helpful text pops up onscreen to announce what year we’re in, beginning in 1988 and only skipping a handful of years before arriving at July 15, 2011. (You remember, that long ago time of two months ago.) One Day also has an annoyingly persistent habit of depicting the 1990s and early twenty-first century with trite cultural markers. “I’ll never get a mobile phone,” Emma declares halfway through the film. A half dozen years later we see her with one of those hip Macbooks right around the time Dexter starts working for a trendy organic food company.

The worst of this occurs when, late in the film, Dexter reminds Emma that they once had feelings for each other. “That was in the late 80s!” she says to him, as if people actually perceive their lives in such rigid terms.

This moment is indicative of the film’s larger problems. One Day tries to build a tearjerker around its pseudo-wisdom about romance but misses the point of what a good weepie should be. We do not care whether or not Emma and Dexter get together, a death sentence for this type of movie. Instead of a love story we get two people talking at each other, explaining why they are or are not together. How romantic.

- Steve Avigliano, 8/29/11

REVIEW: 30 Minutes or Less

30 Minutes or Less (2011): Dir. Ruben Fleischer. Written by: Michael Diliberti. Story by: Michael Diliberti and Matthew Sullivan. Starring: Jesse Eisenberg, Danny McBride, Aziz Ansari, Nick Swardson, Michael Peña and Fred Ward. Rated R (Language, violence and nudity). Running time: 83 minutes.

2 stars (out of four)

In 30 Minutes or Less, a new comedy from director Ruben Fleischer, two would-be criminals strap a bomb to a stranger’s chest and force him to rob a bank under the threat of detonation, a premise that places the film in the company of a recent wave of action comedies that have been popular in the last few years.

In films such as Pineapple Express and this one (both of which feature actor Danny McBride) the best jokes stem from watching everyday incompetent shmoes realize that life is not like what they have been led to believe from their countless viewings of Lethal Weapon. This is amusing territory to be sure but when 30 Minutes or Less runs out of clever gags, it leans too heavily on its guns and explosives for laughs, a none-too-subtle way to cover for a lack of good material.

The victim of the aforementioned scheme is Nick (Jesse Eisenberg), a pizza delivery boy whose employer cruelly promises customers a free pizza if their order does not arrive in the titular time frame. Nick has a falling out with his childhood friend Chet (Aziz Ansari) over his interest in Chet’s sister Katie (Dilshad Valsaria), a plot device necessary to push the two apart before the forthcoming bomb situation draws them back together.

The architects of the deadly and poorly thought out plan are Dwayne (Danny McBride) and Travis (Nick Swardson) who want to off Dwayne’s father (Fred Ward), a ex-Marine hardass with a few million dollars in lottery winnings. Once his old man is out of the way, Dwayne can use his inheritance money to fund his dream business venture: a whorehouse that fronts as a tanning salon. First, however, the pair needs a hundred thousand bucks to hire a hit man (Michael Peña) who comes recommended by a stripper (Bianca Kajlich) Dwayne spills his guts to during a lap dance.

Eisenberg, fresh off his Oscar nod for The Social Network (there is a winking reference to Facebook in this film), reteams with his Zombieland director though he isn’t quite right for the role. There is too much of the nastiness from his take on Facebook mogul Mark Zuckerberg here and not enough of the neurosis from his Zombieland character. He is angry and spiteful when he should be bumbling and anxious.

The movie also features performances from a few comedic actors who are on the verge of becoming household names. The best of these is Aziz Ansari, a popular stand-up comic and TV actor who is about one good role away from becoming a star. There is something oddly likable about Ansari’s comedic persona; his hyper energy is fueled by the sort of faux-machismo that comes from watching too many action movies and rap videos (fitting that he should recently appear in a rap video). He poses as a tough guy but the act is quickly broken at the slightest sign of danger and he turns out to be as timid as any of us.

McBride and Swardson are more of a mixed bag. Their talents mainly lie in mining the lowest depths of privileged degenerates, which, I suppose, they are very good at though they are not always fun to watch. This is particularly the case when the script calls on them to deliver some pretty offensive one-liners. (The film is not shy about its sexist dismissal of its female characters and features a handful of racist comments directed towards Indians.) Coming from the mouths of such mean, unlikable characters, these lines are ugly rather than funny.

Entirely too much time is spent on this pair, especially in the opening scenes as the film needlessly depicts the two criminals devising their scheme. The movie might have taken a cue from the action movies it constantly references and launched right into the bomb and bank heist plot. Nick and Chet’s amateur robbery is great fun but gets limited to only a few scenes when it should form the basis of all the film’s jokes.

Ruben Fleischer’s Zombieland was a surprisingly smart and often very funny movie but here he places too much comedic faith in the wrong places. I appreciate the film’s economic running time but when a movie is this short there should be no wasted time, no extraneous scenes. Instead, 30 Minutes or Less squanders its 83 minutes as though as though unaware its main character could explode at any moment.

- Steve Avigliano, 8/14/11

REVIEW: Cowboys & Aliens

Cowboys & Aliens (2011): Dir. Jon Favreau. Written by: Roberto Orci, Alex Kurtzman, Damon Lindelof, Mark Fergus, and Hawk Ostby. Story by: Mark Fergus, Hawk Ostby, and Steve Oedekerk. Based on the graphic novel Cowboys & Aliens by: Scott Mitchell Rosenberg. Starring: Daniel Craig, Harrison Ford, Olivia Wilde, Sam Rockwell, Paul Dano, Clancy Brown, Keith Carradine and Raoul Trujillo. Rated PG-13 (Western & sci-fi action and violence). Running time: 118 minutes.

2 stars (out of four)

In Cowboys & Aliens, the latest from director Jon Favreau, the cowboys are dusty and the aliens are slimy. Anyone expecting anything else has walked into the wrong theater. The film delivers everything promised in its title (the ampersand stands in for “rescuing citizens who have been abducted by”) in a genre mash-up that, unless you are familiar with the graphic novel on which it is based, is admittedly original.

The premise is ingeniously simple. Why do movie aliens always attack Earth in the present day? Surely their spaceships and weaponry have been advanced for centuries so why not invade our terrestrial world in say, the late 1800s, before the Second Industrial Revolution begins depleting our celestially sought after natural resources?

This playful anachronism allows for some nice moments. When a metallic wristband suddenly starts beeping on Daniel Craig’s wrist, watch Paul Dano’s baffled reaction to the, um, alien sound.

Unfortunately, the majority of Cowboys & Aliens is not as noteworthy as its perfectly silly title. The film opens on a man with no name (Daniel Craig) waking in the middle of the New Mexican desert. He has a name, presumably, but he has forgotten that piece of information as well as how the aforementioned wristband got clamped onto his arm. He stumbles into a nearby town and meets a host of Western archetypes: the hotheaded son (Paul Dano) of a wealthy cattle driver (Harrison Ford), a sheepish bartender (Sam Rockwell), preacher (Clancy Brown), sheriff (Keith Carradine) and a mysterious beauty (Olivia Wilde).

A few of these people recognize Craig’s rugged face from a wanted poster sketch, which lands him in the town jail though he cannot recall his crime. Soon enough, however, bright lights descend from the night sky offering him a chance at redemption (not to mention an opportunity to use that thing on his wrist). The town gets pretty thoroughly blown up and about half its small population snatched up and whisked away by the spaceships. The next day, the cowboys embark on a mission led by Craig and Ford to save their fellow citizens.

The movie is considerably heavier on cowboys than it is aliens, even finding room for an Apache tribe led by their chief, Black Knife (Raoul Trujillo), to help the cowboys. This might lead some to think of the aliens as an allegorical replacement for Native Americans, making the film a sort of “Cowboys and Indian Symbols,” but that would be pushing a lot of unwanted subtext on the film. Cowboys & Aliens is more straightforward than that and I appreciate that the film is modest enough to not try and be anything more than the title suggests.

On the other hand, it’s a shame that with a premise as clever as this, the movie isn’t a little better. Cowboys & Aliens lacks the wit and humor of Jon Favreau’s Iron Man films, which is odd since the subject matter here might have lent itself to self-aware kidding even more. Harrison Ford, a master at cashing in on a paycheck while having some fun too, does his best to make up for the film’s mostly sober tone. You can just barely catch a little glimmer in his eye that shows he knows when he’s saying a bad line and when he’s saying a good and cheesy one. Playing a rough and gruff curmudgeon, he is responsible for the film’s few laughs.

At about two hours, the movie is too long considering it offers only the bare minimum in the way of plot. There are a number of well put together action scenes and the movie doesn’t really do anything wrong but I kept expecting something more. Some extra twist or turn, perhaps. But nothing like that ever comes and the movie is content to trot along with modest ambitions for the entirety of its running time. There are many worse ways to spend two hours but I don’t expect children to be playing “Cowboys and Aliens” anytime soon.

- Steve Avigliano, 7/12/11