This week at the movies
THIS WEEK AT THE MOVIES...
-Something called, “The Mortal Instruments: City Of Bones” comes out. I didn’t see it, I don’t know what it is, and I really don’t care. The story involves magic and shit, but all I know is that it takes place in a Brooklyn populated almost entirely by magical white people.
-Wasn’t enamored with “The World’s End,” and I think this fully completes my evolution from nerd to bully. I no longer enjoy this sort of thing; I loved “Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World,” but “Hot Fuzz” and now this leave me with the feeling that I’ve crashed someone’s party and realized their definition of fun is much narrower than mine. The basic idea is sound enough, involving fortysomethings completing a joyless drinking ritual, not realize they’re enabling their arrested development louse of a friend. And discovering their hometown has become homogenized and shut them out is ripe for a comedy. But this element is a bit too loud and broad: no one points to an Appleby’s sign to suggest a new, generic world order, but they might as well, as these characters trade lightning fast quips too practiced to reveal any organic humanity. And the central sci-fi threat is heavily undercooked, allowing for endlessly repetitive scenes of this unglamorous group barreling over robot baddies in a way that reminds of all the poor American action stars in the early aughts who were expected to learn wirework acrobatics overnight: this shit just ain’t exciting.
-I’m writing an essay where I delve into this a bit more, but “You’re Next” is little more than the latest sadistic murder-fest from sub-talented indie filmmakers. What it wants to be is a portrait of the cycle of violence, given that the targeted family of a home invasion is rich due to a military defense contractor, and that a couple of the masked killers “served together.” What it is seems more accurate to the maturity levels of all involved: a nihilist version of “Home Alone” with a bunch of Kevins.
-Sad to say that I didn’t buy a minute of “Drinking Buddies,” the latest from Joe Swanberg (who, I confess, awesomely takes an arrow to the back and keeps moving in “You’re Next”). This is a mostly improvisational (you can tell) story about two couples intertwined. Jake Johnson is seeing Anna Kendrick, while Olivia Wilde is dating Ron Livingston, and the tension at work at the beer distillery between Wilde and Johnson is obvious, though it’s clear he likes her, and she’s happy sending him to the Friendzone™. Then, Livingston implausibly makes a pass at Kendrick despite zero chemistry shared, and these almost-adults struggle to address their feelings, instead acting like mopey assholes, and eventually drunk, belligerent ones. From the non-alcoholic physiques of these guys, to the unlikely pairings, to the fake chit-chat banter, I didn’t believe a second.
-I’ve only seen the culturally-condescending American cut of “The Grandmaster,” one that reportedly under-emphasizes the nationalism of the story and plays up the tertiary involvement of Bruce Lee to the narrative while clipping over twenty minutes of footage. And yet, Wong Kar-Wai remains one of the world’s most sensual filmmakers. The story feels slim, an afterthought: the picture is paced by the separation of action sequences, doled out with grace and comfort. But this isn’t even an action picture, but a ballet: when Tony Leung folds into his character of Ip Man, his kicks and punches feel like dance moves. The non-lethal aspect of many of the picture’s battles suggests a poetic eroticism, particularly in the scenes with the forceful Leung and the gorgeous Zhang Zi-Yi. Their bouts of combat, lightened with flirtation, are some of the most romantic moments of the year.
-Brie Larson is a reason enough to see the sweetly nuanced “Short Term 12,” though the acting here is uniformly excellent. This is the harsh-edged world of group homes for wayward kids, not the impenetrable fortress of other films, but a roost constantly threatened with evacuation by a touching clan of affected, and affecting children. “Short Term 12” wisely opens with a few jokes and the introductions of a group of counselors (including the seemingly accidentally-unsettling Remi Malek) before tiptoeing into the world of children abused, misused, and discarded by harsh homes. The resolutions in the third act feel pat, an attempt to button a messy emotional fugue state inhabited by these characters, but otherwise this is a sharply realized film that I’m certain will be remembered at year’s end.
-It’s been over a year and a half since I’ve seen the sexy “Una Noche,” but the marketing department didn’t forget, sticking my quote on their trailer. Super flattering! This is the story of two Cuban friends, one who dotes over his growing-into-teenagehood sister, the other a tourist thief starting to notice the flexibility of his sexuality. Maybe I have that wrong. God, it’s been awhile. I also saw this in the middle of the Tribeca Film Festival - I see like thirty movies in two weeks when I go to that fest. All I remember is intensity, sweat, sex, love, sweetness, danger, great music, and bursts of violence. And that last twenty minutes, which are gorgeous and fascinating. In other words, this movie’s got everything. Take my word for it: the folks at IFC Films thought you should anyway. Don’t be a dick, read my review.
-I remain agitated by the French film “You Will Be My Son,” an affecting, intense drama about faked lineage and familial discontent. Niels Arstrup is a complete asshole winemaker, an undereducated man of the land who has geared his company towards untold success. His son, meanwhile, was properly educated in the act of wine preparation and conservation, and is more than ready to inherit the business. But asshole dad not only doesn’t trust this book-smarts B.S., but it’s clear he thinks his principled son, who wakes early to exercise and speaks softly and kindly, is a wimpy nerd. This would be a laugh riot if made in America, but instead, it’s a harsh melodrama about a man’s permanently broken relationship with his father, which worsens as Arstrup attempts to adopt his friend’s grown son in order to have a “rightful” heir for his vineyard. An extremely well-made, but intensely upsetting movie. You can read my review here.
-Good for Josh Duhamel and Dan Fogler. They wanted to prove they can be more than Dipshit Alpha Male and Fat Comic Relief, so they went into the desert and came back with “Scenic Route.” It’s an overly-obvious movie about two best friends constantly yelling at each other. You can click here to read my review.
-Something called, “The Mortal Instruments: City Of Bones” comes out. I didn’t see it, I don’t know what it is, and I really don’t care. The story involves magic and shit, but all I know is that it takes place in a Brooklyn populated almost entirely by magical white people.
-Wasn’t enamored with “The World’s End,” and I think this fully completes my evolution from nerd to bully. I no longer enjoy this sort of thing; I loved “Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World,” but “Hot Fuzz” and now this leave me with the feeling that I’ve crashed someone’s party and realized their definition of fun is much narrower than mine. The basic idea is sound enough, involving fortysomethings completing a joyless drinking ritual, not realize they’re enabling their arrested development louse of a friend. And discovering their hometown has become homogenized and shut them out is ripe for a comedy. But this element is a bit too loud and broad: no one points to an Appleby’s sign to suggest a new, generic world order, but they might as well, as these characters trade lightning fast quips too practiced to reveal any organic humanity. And the central sci-fi threat is heavily undercooked, allowing for endlessly repetitive scenes of this unglamorous group barreling over robot baddies in a way that reminds of all the poor American action stars in the early aughts who were expected to learn wirework acrobatics overnight: this shit just ain’t exciting.
-I’m writing an essay where I delve into this a bit more, but “You’re Next” is little more than the latest sadistic murder-fest from sub-talented indie filmmakers. What it wants to be is a portrait of the cycle of violence, given that the targeted family of a home invasion is rich due to a military defense contractor, and that a couple of the masked killers “served together.” What it is seems more accurate to the maturity levels of all involved: a nihilist version of “Home Alone” with a bunch of Kevins.
-Sad to say that I didn’t buy a minute of “Drinking Buddies,” the latest from Joe Swanberg (who, I confess, awesomely takes an arrow to the back and keeps moving in “You’re Next”). This is a mostly improvisational (you can tell) story about two couples intertwined. Jake Johnson is seeing Anna Kendrick, while Olivia Wilde is dating Ron Livingston, and the tension at work at the beer distillery between Wilde and Johnson is obvious, though it’s clear he likes her, and she’s happy sending him to the Friendzone™. Then, Livingston implausibly makes a pass at Kendrick despite zero chemistry shared, and these almost-adults struggle to address their feelings, instead acting like mopey assholes, and eventually drunk, belligerent ones. From the non-alcoholic physiques of these guys, to the unlikely pairings, to the fake chit-chat banter, I didn’t believe a second.
-I’ve only seen the culturally-condescending American cut of “The Grandmaster,” one that reportedly under-emphasizes the nationalism of the story and plays up the tertiary involvement of Bruce Lee to the narrative while clipping over twenty minutes of footage. And yet, Wong Kar-Wai remains one of the world’s most sensual filmmakers. The story feels slim, an afterthought: the picture is paced by the separation of action sequences, doled out with grace and comfort. But this isn’t even an action picture, but a ballet: when Tony Leung folds into his character of Ip Man, his kicks and punches feel like dance moves. The non-lethal aspect of many of the picture’s battles suggests a poetic eroticism, particularly in the scenes with the forceful Leung and the gorgeous Zhang Zi-Yi. Their bouts of combat, lightened with flirtation, are some of the most romantic moments of the year.
-Brie Larson is a reason enough to see the sweetly nuanced “Short Term 12,” though the acting here is uniformly excellent. This is the harsh-edged world of group homes for wayward kids, not the impenetrable fortress of other films, but a roost constantly threatened with evacuation by a touching clan of affected, and affecting children. “Short Term 12” wisely opens with a few jokes and the introductions of a group of counselors (including the seemingly accidentally-unsettling Remi Malek) before tiptoeing into the world of children abused, misused, and discarded by harsh homes. The resolutions in the third act feel pat, an attempt to button a messy emotional fugue state inhabited by these characters, but otherwise this is a sharply realized film that I’m certain will be remembered at year’s end.
-It’s been over a year and a half since I’ve seen the sexy “Una Noche,” but the marketing department didn’t forget, sticking my quote on their trailer. Super flattering! This is the story of two Cuban friends, one who dotes over his growing-into-teenagehood sister, the other a tourist thief starting to notice the flexibility of his sexuality. Maybe I have that wrong. God, it’s been awhile. I also saw this in the middle of the Tribeca Film Festival - I see like thirty movies in two weeks when I go to that fest. All I remember is intensity, sweat, sex, love, sweetness, danger, great music, and bursts of violence. And that last twenty minutes, which are gorgeous and fascinating. In other words, this movie’s got everything. Take my word for it: the folks at IFC Films thought you should anyway. Don’t be a dick, read my review.
-I remain agitated by the French film “You Will Be My Son,” an affecting, intense drama about faked lineage and familial discontent. Niels Arstrup is a complete asshole winemaker, an undereducated man of the land who has geared his company towards untold success. His son, meanwhile, was properly educated in the act of wine preparation and conservation, and is more than ready to inherit the business. But asshole dad not only doesn’t trust this book-smarts B.S., but it’s clear he thinks his principled son, who wakes early to exercise and speaks softly and kindly, is a wimpy nerd. This would be a laugh riot if made in America, but instead, it’s a harsh melodrama about a man’s permanently broken relationship with his father, which worsens as Arstrup attempts to adopt his friend’s grown son in order to have a “rightful” heir for his vineyard. An extremely well-made, but intensely upsetting movie. You can read my review here.
-Good for Josh Duhamel and Dan Fogler. They wanted to prove they can be more than Dipshit Alpha Male and Fat Comic Relief, so they went into the desert and came back with “Scenic Route.” It’s an overly-obvious movie about two best friends constantly yelling at each other. You can click here to read my review.