Transformers, National Treasure 2, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Eastern Promises
Hello all! I thought of two more great character actors to add to my list: Seth Green and Christopher Walken. I'll edit my earlier post to put them in later. In the meantime, though, it's Wednesday, December 9th, and today's old reviews are:
National Treasure: Book of Secrets
4 stars
For some reason, recently I have gotten the impression that people are encouraged to feel guilty about enjoying "dumb" movies--movies that will never be nominated for an acting or directing Oscar, movies that are not about some form of personal angst or struggle, movies that contain no particular social commentary, movies that do not feature Meryl Streep, Denzel Washington or at least Michael Moore. In short, we aren't supposed to enjoy movies that just aim to be fun to watch. Maybe it's just me, but doesn't that seem a bit counterintuitive? Before Citizen Kane and Casablanca and even Star Wars were dissected by critics with metaphorical depth-sounders, didn't people just go see them to have a good time? And I'm not talking about movies that go too far in the other direction, either, movies like the Jackass series (that equate fun to disgustification), most Billy Bob Thornton flicks (which equate it to humiliation) and torture pornos (which equate it to mutilation). I'm talking, in a word, about National Treasure: Book of Secrets.
This movie does not pretend to be believable, deep, soul-stirring, or even sexy--not because it does not know how to be, but because at root it does not have to be. It's clean adventure a la Indiana Jones, with a touch of The Da Vinci Code thrown in, and for the thrills it wants, that is quite simply enough. It doesn't even need a PG-13 rating, let alone an R, to excite and tantalize.
Cast-wise, Nicholas Cage is in his element here (and despite my other reviews of him I mean this in the best way possible) and his repartee with Justin Bartha's Riley Poole stands on hilarious par with that between lead and sidekick in Live Free or Die Hard. Diane Kruger is absolutely awesome as the smart, independent bombshell who can't quite control her inner nerd when a historical puzzle is dangled before her, and she and Cage match well, especially considering most of what they do is argue. But the real scene-stealers in this film are the old-timers. Harvey Keitel expands perhaps ten minutes of screen time into an entire movie presence, Jon Voight and Helen Mirren can only be described as perfect, and Ed Harris does slime and sleaze with some inner nobility the way only Ed Harris can (see also The Rock and A History of Violence). Is it farfetched, over-the-top and just a bit silly? Sure it is, but as I said with Crank and a few others, if you care about that, you're probably in the wrong theater.
This is exactly the kind of movie we are supposed to feel guilty for watching and enjoying. But you know what? I sure don't. I may even go watch it again.
---
Mr. and Mrs. Smith
3.5 stars
For a while there, I almost thought Hollywood had forgotten that Brad and Angelina look much better on the big screen than on magazine covers in the checkout of our local grocery stores. In watching Mr. and Mrs. Smith, I was very glad to discover otherwise, as it has been my philosophy for some time now that actors should be watched when on the job, not off. (See also Jennifer Love Hewitt.)
More to the point, it was while watching this film that I first really saw how watchable both Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are--and as more than just pretty faces and figures. I've seen them both in other movies, but for some reason this one brought out their best, especially for Jolie, as here she was much sharper and cleaner than I've seen her elsewhere. Pitt, for his part, was dynamite in Snatch and Fight Club, but seeing his fire temporarily stifled by suburbia actually made it burn that much higher. And while I'm praising the two leads individually, let me also praise them collectively, for mastering the absolute bewilderment of discovering a spouse's secret identity while simultaneously revealing one's own. With two less serious characters (and actors), that process could have degenerated into slapstick catfighting; both Jolie and Pitt held their self-respect, clearly realizing that no matter how shocked and angry their characters were about being deceived, neither one had a moral leg to stand on.
That process of realization, frustration and reconciliation makes the movie. Without it, Mr. and Mrs. Smith would just be another moderately clever action flick with a few suburban mockeries thrown in for seasoning. But with it, the film becomes both deadly serious and devastatingly funny. Now all that need to happen is a solid sequel: Mr. and Mrs. Smith Go to Washington.
---
Eastern Promises
4 stars
David Cronenberg has done it again. Eastern Promises, his movie about Russian mob culture in London, has more depth and power than the Thames River, in which one of its corpses winds up. Unfortunately, it also moves almost as slowly. What Cronenberg likely meant as a deliberate pace, matching with the deliberate Russian natures featured in the film, came out flowing more like molasses than vodka. But really, in a film so overflowing with character depth, cultural symbolism and gradually-building suspense, the pace gradually ceases to matter as the viewer is drawn into the movie's many layers.
Eastern Promises opens with two contrasting scenes, one of death (a man is murdered in a barber's chair; eat your heart out, Sweeney Todd), and one of life (an anonymous young woman gives birth). The dichotomy between these two scenes set the tone for the rest of the film, which explores a culture in which life and death cross each other as closely as the Soviet hammer and sickle. Life and death are represented in the two main characters, a midwife and a driver who disposes of corpses. They make up the two faces of Armin Mueller-Stahl's spellbinding mob boss Semyon, who rapes and murders a young sex slave, then plies the film's heroine with homemade borscht and teaches his nieces the violin. And they are juxtaposed in almost every scene change: a baby, then a killer; a throat-slitting, then a 100th-birthday celebration. Juxtapositions and dichotomies rule this movie.
Eastern Promises addresses the crossing of a world where everyone is what they seem with one where no one is. Naomi Watts' Anna is passionately innocent and straightforward about her altruistic goal of finding the family of the baby she delivered, but grows frustrated and scared when the kind old Russian restaurant owner who offers to help her (Mueller-Stahl) slowly reveals his implacable, cold-blooded side. Viggo Mortensen, in his strongest, most mature and most captivating role yet (and ETA, his first Oscar nomination), claims to be "just a driver" when he is clearly anything but, and also confuses Anna by showing her the one thing she does not expect from a mobster like him--kindness.
As if all that weren't enough, this movie is also about promises, promises made to young Russian girls that never get kept, promises that mobsters make to each other, promises that individuals make to themselves. It's about the effects of what people do when they are too arrogant to think about the effects of their actions. It's about two people who have nothing in common but their common situation. And most of all, it's about making the viewer think. To this last end, Cronenberg has removed anything remotely tourist-like from the movie's London (making it almost unrecognizable as Western Europe) colored the film in grays and browns, and put an incredible action scene in a movie that is not really an action flick. He and Mortensen also made an exhaustively accurate study of Russian prison tattoos, a culture unto itself and a significant presence in the movie.
Eastern Promises is not a movie that entertains for entertainment's sake. It does not grab audiences with explosions; it sneaks up behind them and slits their metaphorical throats. That said, the depth of this second project uniting Cronenberg and Mortensen speaks to something deep inside of its viewers, drawing them slowly in until they are just as much on the edge of their seats as they would be in Live Free Or Die Hard. It's not an easy movie to watch, but it's well worth the struggle.
---
Transfomers
3.5 stars
Confession time: I never played with Transformers when I was a kid. (I was always more of a Ninja Turtle guy.) So when this movie came out, I had no perspective on its background, and was so bemused by the frenetic excitement I observed in moviegoers that I held off on seeing it until it came out on DVD, preferring not to be trampled on my way into the theatre. Adding to my reluctance was the fact that Michael Bay directed Transformers, and the last big Michael Bay blockbuster, Pearl Harbor, was so egregiously tacky that Trey Parker and Matt Stone dedicated a whole song to its lampooning in Team America: World Police. So while I didn't exactly expect Transformers to flop, I was a bit apprehensive about it. Fortunately, I soon found out I didn't have to be.
Movies are by definition at least somewhat escapist. So are toys. So it came as no surprise that this film, essentially a movie about toys, was quite farfetched. The surprise was that it was not the Autobots and Decepticons that seemed so unrealistic, nor their interactions with the humans. The Autobots' non-understanding of such concepts as parenthood, lawn care and stealth, just for one example, were completely alien, but acted (programmed?) and voiced very humanly; the result was both somehow believable and very funny. What was unrealistic, ironically, was much of the human element of the film. Shia LaBeouf brought great wounded dignity to his misunderstood nerd-turned-hero, Megan Fox was clearly easy on the eyes, and the British/Australian hacker chick was clever, but none of them were given enough to do. Even LaBeouf didn't do much besides run around, despite doing it very well. Also ironically, while Jon Voight's Presidential performance in Pearl Harbor was one of the few saving graces of that movie, in Transformers he was shoehorned into an earthbound resurrection of Bill Pullman's role in Independence Day: a sad waste of an excellent actor that dragged Transformers a bit further down.
All that said, however, Transformers did not need all of those elements to succeed. Manifestly its selling points were: great CG effects, which it had in spades; eye candy, provided by the cars, the robots and Megan Fox; and bringing to life a beloved toy franchise with lots of explosive robot combat, which not only entertained but took most audience members back to their respective childhood playtimes. Like many summer blockbusters, Transformers is not a critic's movie, but a fun-loving, popcorn-eating, kid-at-heart's movie. And as such it was an enjoyable thrill ride, despite being directed by Michael Bay.
Until next time,
FBS
National Treasure: Book of Secrets
4 stars
For some reason, recently I have gotten the impression that people are encouraged to feel guilty about enjoying "dumb" movies--movies that will never be nominated for an acting or directing Oscar, movies that are not about some form of personal angst or struggle, movies that contain no particular social commentary, movies that do not feature Meryl Streep, Denzel Washington or at least Michael Moore. In short, we aren't supposed to enjoy movies that just aim to be fun to watch. Maybe it's just me, but doesn't that seem a bit counterintuitive? Before Citizen Kane and Casablanca and even Star Wars were dissected by critics with metaphorical depth-sounders, didn't people just go see them to have a good time? And I'm not talking about movies that go too far in the other direction, either, movies like the Jackass series (that equate fun to disgustification), most Billy Bob Thornton flicks (which equate it to humiliation) and torture pornos (which equate it to mutilation). I'm talking, in a word, about National Treasure: Book of Secrets.
This movie does not pretend to be believable, deep, soul-stirring, or even sexy--not because it does not know how to be, but because at root it does not have to be. It's clean adventure a la Indiana Jones, with a touch of The Da Vinci Code thrown in, and for the thrills it wants, that is quite simply enough. It doesn't even need a PG-13 rating, let alone an R, to excite and tantalize.
Cast-wise, Nicholas Cage is in his element here (and despite my other reviews of him I mean this in the best way possible) and his repartee with Justin Bartha's Riley Poole stands on hilarious par with that between lead and sidekick in Live Free or Die Hard. Diane Kruger is absolutely awesome as the smart, independent bombshell who can't quite control her inner nerd when a historical puzzle is dangled before her, and she and Cage match well, especially considering most of what they do is argue. But the real scene-stealers in this film are the old-timers. Harvey Keitel expands perhaps ten minutes of screen time into an entire movie presence, Jon Voight and Helen Mirren can only be described as perfect, and Ed Harris does slime and sleaze with some inner nobility the way only Ed Harris can (see also The Rock and A History of Violence). Is it farfetched, over-the-top and just a bit silly? Sure it is, but as I said with Crank and a few others, if you care about that, you're probably in the wrong theater.
This is exactly the kind of movie we are supposed to feel guilty for watching and enjoying. But you know what? I sure don't. I may even go watch it again.
---
Mr. and Mrs. Smith
3.5 stars
For a while there, I almost thought Hollywood had forgotten that Brad and Angelina look much better on the big screen than on magazine covers in the checkout of our local grocery stores. In watching Mr. and Mrs. Smith, I was very glad to discover otherwise, as it has been my philosophy for some time now that actors should be watched when on the job, not off. (See also Jennifer Love Hewitt.)
More to the point, it was while watching this film that I first really saw how watchable both Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are--and as more than just pretty faces and figures. I've seen them both in other movies, but for some reason this one brought out their best, especially for Jolie, as here she was much sharper and cleaner than I've seen her elsewhere. Pitt, for his part, was dynamite in Snatch and Fight Club, but seeing his fire temporarily stifled by suburbia actually made it burn that much higher. And while I'm praising the two leads individually, let me also praise them collectively, for mastering the absolute bewilderment of discovering a spouse's secret identity while simultaneously revealing one's own. With two less serious characters (and actors), that process could have degenerated into slapstick catfighting; both Jolie and Pitt held their self-respect, clearly realizing that no matter how shocked and angry their characters were about being deceived, neither one had a moral leg to stand on.
That process of realization, frustration and reconciliation makes the movie. Without it, Mr. and Mrs. Smith would just be another moderately clever action flick with a few suburban mockeries thrown in for seasoning. But with it, the film becomes both deadly serious and devastatingly funny. Now all that need to happen is a solid sequel: Mr. and Mrs. Smith Go to Washington.
---
Eastern Promises
4 stars
David Cronenberg has done it again. Eastern Promises, his movie about Russian mob culture in London, has more depth and power than the Thames River, in which one of its corpses winds up. Unfortunately, it also moves almost as slowly. What Cronenberg likely meant as a deliberate pace, matching with the deliberate Russian natures featured in the film, came out flowing more like molasses than vodka. But really, in a film so overflowing with character depth, cultural symbolism and gradually-building suspense, the pace gradually ceases to matter as the viewer is drawn into the movie's many layers.
Eastern Promises opens with two contrasting scenes, one of death (a man is murdered in a barber's chair; eat your heart out, Sweeney Todd), and one of life (an anonymous young woman gives birth). The dichotomy between these two scenes set the tone for the rest of the film, which explores a culture in which life and death cross each other as closely as the Soviet hammer and sickle. Life and death are represented in the two main characters, a midwife and a driver who disposes of corpses. They make up the two faces of Armin Mueller-Stahl's spellbinding mob boss Semyon, who rapes and murders a young sex slave, then plies the film's heroine with homemade borscht and teaches his nieces the violin. And they are juxtaposed in almost every scene change: a baby, then a killer; a throat-slitting, then a 100th-birthday celebration. Juxtapositions and dichotomies rule this movie.
Eastern Promises addresses the crossing of a world where everyone is what they seem with one where no one is. Naomi Watts' Anna is passionately innocent and straightforward about her altruistic goal of finding the family of the baby she delivered, but grows frustrated and scared when the kind old Russian restaurant owner who offers to help her (Mueller-Stahl) slowly reveals his implacable, cold-blooded side. Viggo Mortensen, in his strongest, most mature and most captivating role yet (and ETA, his first Oscar nomination), claims to be "just a driver" when he is clearly anything but, and also confuses Anna by showing her the one thing she does not expect from a mobster like him--kindness.
As if all that weren't enough, this movie is also about promises, promises made to young Russian girls that never get kept, promises that mobsters make to each other, promises that individuals make to themselves. It's about the effects of what people do when they are too arrogant to think about the effects of their actions. It's about two people who have nothing in common but their common situation. And most of all, it's about making the viewer think. To this last end, Cronenberg has removed anything remotely tourist-like from the movie's London (making it almost unrecognizable as Western Europe) colored the film in grays and browns, and put an incredible action scene in a movie that is not really an action flick. He and Mortensen also made an exhaustively accurate study of Russian prison tattoos, a culture unto itself and a significant presence in the movie.
Eastern Promises is not a movie that entertains for entertainment's sake. It does not grab audiences with explosions; it sneaks up behind them and slits their metaphorical throats. That said, the depth of this second project uniting Cronenberg and Mortensen speaks to something deep inside of its viewers, drawing them slowly in until they are just as much on the edge of their seats as they would be in Live Free Or Die Hard. It's not an easy movie to watch, but it's well worth the struggle.
---
Transfomers
3.5 stars
Confession time: I never played with Transformers when I was a kid. (I was always more of a Ninja Turtle guy.) So when this movie came out, I had no perspective on its background, and was so bemused by the frenetic excitement I observed in moviegoers that I held off on seeing it until it came out on DVD, preferring not to be trampled on my way into the theatre. Adding to my reluctance was the fact that Michael Bay directed Transformers, and the last big Michael Bay blockbuster, Pearl Harbor, was so egregiously tacky that Trey Parker and Matt Stone dedicated a whole song to its lampooning in Team America: World Police. So while I didn't exactly expect Transformers to flop, I was a bit apprehensive about it. Fortunately, I soon found out I didn't have to be.
Movies are by definition at least somewhat escapist. So are toys. So it came as no surprise that this film, essentially a movie about toys, was quite farfetched. The surprise was that it was not the Autobots and Decepticons that seemed so unrealistic, nor their interactions with the humans. The Autobots' non-understanding of such concepts as parenthood, lawn care and stealth, just for one example, were completely alien, but acted (programmed?) and voiced very humanly; the result was both somehow believable and very funny. What was unrealistic, ironically, was much of the human element of the film. Shia LaBeouf brought great wounded dignity to his misunderstood nerd-turned-hero, Megan Fox was clearly easy on the eyes, and the British/Australian hacker chick was clever, but none of them were given enough to do. Even LaBeouf didn't do much besides run around, despite doing it very well. Also ironically, while Jon Voight's Presidential performance in Pearl Harbor was one of the few saving graces of that movie, in Transformers he was shoehorned into an earthbound resurrection of Bill Pullman's role in Independence Day: a sad waste of an excellent actor that dragged Transformers a bit further down.
All that said, however, Transformers did not need all of those elements to succeed. Manifestly its selling points were: great CG effects, which it had in spades; eye candy, provided by the cars, the robots and Megan Fox; and bringing to life a beloved toy franchise with lots of explosive robot combat, which not only entertained but took most audience members back to their respective childhood playtimes. Like many summer blockbusters, Transformers is not a critic's movie, but a fun-loving, popcorn-eating, kid-at-heart's movie. And as such it was an enjoyable thrill ride, despite being directed by Michael Bay.
Until next time,
FBS