Exceeds
Low expectations did me a solid this weekend at the movies. I had heard from the internet (less reliable) and particularly Maggie and Kyle (more troubling) that the Tron sequel wasn't so good, so my already-medium expectations, based more on "that looks cool" from the trailers than any sentiments of "they better not fuck up Tron," weren't astronomical. Nonetheless, I bought tickets to see the 3-D IMAX version of Tron: Legacy with Andrew, Jon, Tom, Nathaniel, Patrick, and Marisa well over a month ago and go to 68th Street way early for line picnic and checking out the girl who made her own light-up Tron jacket and accompanying memory discs.
I've seen the original Tron twice and nodded off both times; it actually strikes me something like its fellow 1982 release Blade Runner in that it is visually engaging and has some neat story elements but doesn't really get me involved emotionally, although in the end of course I can appreciate Blade Runner more even if I personally prefer any number of other influential-or-not sci-fi movies. Tron: Legacy really does treat the movie as some kind of legacy, far moreso than necessary, and basically imitates its flimsy, not particularly exciting story to the letter, with updated visuals and its own special brand of George Lucas/James Cameron-level dialogue.
The thing is, though, it really, really doesn't matter. I'm not even saying it doesn't matter the way I say that dumb dialogue doesn't matter in the Star Wars prequels (or the older Star Wars movies, for that matter) because I think the Star Wars prequel stories actually have pretty strong storytelling, good pacing and interesting characters, whereas I would not apply any of those precise terms to Tron: Legacy. The thing is, Tron: Legacy is really, really cool-looking. It just looks spectacular. On a real non-digital IMAX screen, it looks even more spectacular, because it's the first movie in awhile to bother with almost filling one of those giant-sized spaces (it goes near-full IMAX for I'd say at least 30 or 40 minutes total), and the fidelity to old Tron results in some of the most arresting and crazy-looking half-cartoon retro-futuristic big-screen imagery since Speed Racer. The actual filmmaking isn't as inventive as it was in Speed Racer, but it's a pleasure just to sit and look at this thing.
The actors aren't too bad, either. Garrett Hedlund is pretty boring, especially because his lead character is such an amalgam of other boring heroes as well as some demographic considerations, but Jeff Bridges is obviously having fun, though not as much as Michael Sheen, who has made it his business to have the most fun in some very silly movies. Even Olivia Wilde, who I kind of assumed was just eye candy, is pretty enjoyable as the token lady ass-kicker with an awesome haircut, playing the part with wide-eyed enthusiasm rather than the usual stoic mystery.
The attempts at creating a whole mythology, well, I find it hard to care about that stuff unless it is pretty awesome and not delivered via thudding exposition, so no go here; some interesting gestures towards cool sci-fi ideas, but nothing really developed in an interesting way that keeps the story from pure point-a-to-point-b stuff. The world of Tron is visually immersive but doesn't do much for my brain or even my imagination. So I didn't care very much about what was happening... but I cared even less that I didn't care. I see a lot of movies that fail to make me care about the plot or the stakes or whatever, and very few of them are as cool-looking-and-sounding as Tron: Legacy.
Advance word, both general and friend-specific, on How Do You Know was even worse and, like Tron Harder, I can't make any kind of case for this being an excellent movie. But I can say that I enjoyed it. James L. Brooks is one of those filmmakers who spends a ridiculous amount of time and money making movies that are mostly just people (albeit played by highly paid actors) sitting around and talking, and as a director, he's been off of his Terms of Endearment/Broadcast News peak for quite some time. How Do You Know isn't as awkward or overlong or muddled as Spanglish, but in terms of rhythm, it may be his most stilted, weirdly staged movie. It was shot by Janusz Kaminski, but unlike Funny People, where Brooks heir Judd Apatow made nice-looking use of Kaminski's visual style, How Do You Know just looks like a standard glossy rom-com with a little less overlighting and a little more streaming white light in a few scenes. It's not as outright clumsy as the likes of The Proposal or When in Rome; its filmmaking flaws are less tangible than that. It feels unaccountably creaky, like a movie filmed quickly or on the cheap, even though it was neither.
As a writer, though, Brooks is still pretty interesting. That's not to say that this is his best script, either, or even close to it; in fact, it feels very much like a draft without the kinks worked out. Brooks always deals with neurotic characters, but these -- a softball player (Reese Witherspoon) who's aging out of the game; a pro pitcher (Owen Wilson); a floundering businessman (Paul Rudd) and his imposing father (Jack Nicholson) -- are uncommonly chatty and self-analytical even for a Brooks ensemble. How Do You Know is mostly talk, a lot of talk, and when it's not, it's people getting ready to talk, or trying to convince someone else to open up and talk, or returning to a conversation after walking out on it.
This makes for a slow pace, definitely, and some awkward moments, sure, and maybe even a little bit of irritation as this goes on and on (though not, at under two hours, as long as Brooks could go). But Brooks still has a witty, odd touch with dialogue -- as much of it there is, I enjoyed listening to a lot of it -- and I found Witherspoon, Rudd, and Wilson all quite lovable and funny. More than anything, I appreciated watching a romantic comedy where the relationships aren't based in goosed-up stock/fake conflict, like a guy and a girl who get on each other's nerves at first but then an attraction grows, or a guy and a girl who have been friends forever and never thought of each other that way until blah blah blah. In How Do You Know, even the jerk who obviously shouldn't wind up with the heroine (Wilson) has his charms, and isn't written or played as a villain. There isn't a lot going on in the movie in terms of story, but I actually cared about characters winding up together, and how it would happen, and to a greater degree than any number of recent attempts to class up the rom-com genre (Love and Other Drugs and Morning Glory are both slicker, but I'd much rather catch parts of How Do You Know again on cable than either of those). It's a nice feeling, and, sadly, a rare one.
I saw a couple of the other weekend releases beforehand: when my own press connections faltered, Marisa got us into a Westchester screening of Rabbit Hole, which I really liked and did not consider grief porn at all, not least because jesus christ, can we stop calling everything porn? I'm starting to feel like people who use variations on "blank porn" are not really very familiar with what pornography is like. That's the only explanation I can figure beyond the usual sheepiness of snarky writers, which also led to a bunch of people saying "the funny" for a bunch of years. Anyway, Rabbit Hole is really good and sort of restores my faith in Nicole Kidman, although in truth none of the usual stuff (Bewitched; Margot at the Wedding; Australia) hurt my faith in her at all, but it had been a few years since she gave a truly stellar performance.
I also saw Yogi Bear. This one, finally, did not exceed my expectations (though I suppose it's something that it didn't sink even further below them, either). I must be doing someone a kind of minor, stupid service, because whenever I post a review of a movie like Yogi Bear, it gets way more bitly clicks than a movie like Rabbit Hole. Though I expect that my review of Gulliver's Travels will not be afforded such a distinction (by the way, does anyone want to see Gulliver's Travels for free tomorrow night?).
I've seen the original Tron twice and nodded off both times; it actually strikes me something like its fellow 1982 release Blade Runner in that it is visually engaging and has some neat story elements but doesn't really get me involved emotionally, although in the end of course I can appreciate Blade Runner more even if I personally prefer any number of other influential-or-not sci-fi movies. Tron: Legacy really does treat the movie as some kind of legacy, far moreso than necessary, and basically imitates its flimsy, not particularly exciting story to the letter, with updated visuals and its own special brand of George Lucas/James Cameron-level dialogue.
The thing is, though, it really, really doesn't matter. I'm not even saying it doesn't matter the way I say that dumb dialogue doesn't matter in the Star Wars prequels (or the older Star Wars movies, for that matter) because I think the Star Wars prequel stories actually have pretty strong storytelling, good pacing and interesting characters, whereas I would not apply any of those precise terms to Tron: Legacy. The thing is, Tron: Legacy is really, really cool-looking. It just looks spectacular. On a real non-digital IMAX screen, it looks even more spectacular, because it's the first movie in awhile to bother with almost filling one of those giant-sized spaces (it goes near-full IMAX for I'd say at least 30 or 40 minutes total), and the fidelity to old Tron results in some of the most arresting and crazy-looking half-cartoon retro-futuristic big-screen imagery since Speed Racer. The actual filmmaking isn't as inventive as it was in Speed Racer, but it's a pleasure just to sit and look at this thing.
The actors aren't too bad, either. Garrett Hedlund is pretty boring, especially because his lead character is such an amalgam of other boring heroes as well as some demographic considerations, but Jeff Bridges is obviously having fun, though not as much as Michael Sheen, who has made it his business to have the most fun in some very silly movies. Even Olivia Wilde, who I kind of assumed was just eye candy, is pretty enjoyable as the token lady ass-kicker with an awesome haircut, playing the part with wide-eyed enthusiasm rather than the usual stoic mystery.
The attempts at creating a whole mythology, well, I find it hard to care about that stuff unless it is pretty awesome and not delivered via thudding exposition, so no go here; some interesting gestures towards cool sci-fi ideas, but nothing really developed in an interesting way that keeps the story from pure point-a-to-point-b stuff. The world of Tron is visually immersive but doesn't do much for my brain or even my imagination. So I didn't care very much about what was happening... but I cared even less that I didn't care. I see a lot of movies that fail to make me care about the plot or the stakes or whatever, and very few of them are as cool-looking-and-sounding as Tron: Legacy.
Advance word, both general and friend-specific, on How Do You Know was even worse and, like Tron Harder, I can't make any kind of case for this being an excellent movie. But I can say that I enjoyed it. James L. Brooks is one of those filmmakers who spends a ridiculous amount of time and money making movies that are mostly just people (albeit played by highly paid actors) sitting around and talking, and as a director, he's been off of his Terms of Endearment/Broadcast News peak for quite some time. How Do You Know isn't as awkward or overlong or muddled as Spanglish, but in terms of rhythm, it may be his most stilted, weirdly staged movie. It was shot by Janusz Kaminski, but unlike Funny People, where Brooks heir Judd Apatow made nice-looking use of Kaminski's visual style, How Do You Know just looks like a standard glossy rom-com with a little less overlighting and a little more streaming white light in a few scenes. It's not as outright clumsy as the likes of The Proposal or When in Rome; its filmmaking flaws are less tangible than that. It feels unaccountably creaky, like a movie filmed quickly or on the cheap, even though it was neither.
As a writer, though, Brooks is still pretty interesting. That's not to say that this is his best script, either, or even close to it; in fact, it feels very much like a draft without the kinks worked out. Brooks always deals with neurotic characters, but these -- a softball player (Reese Witherspoon) who's aging out of the game; a pro pitcher (Owen Wilson); a floundering businessman (Paul Rudd) and his imposing father (Jack Nicholson) -- are uncommonly chatty and self-analytical even for a Brooks ensemble. How Do You Know is mostly talk, a lot of talk, and when it's not, it's people getting ready to talk, or trying to convince someone else to open up and talk, or returning to a conversation after walking out on it.
This makes for a slow pace, definitely, and some awkward moments, sure, and maybe even a little bit of irritation as this goes on and on (though not, at under two hours, as long as Brooks could go). But Brooks still has a witty, odd touch with dialogue -- as much of it there is, I enjoyed listening to a lot of it -- and I found Witherspoon, Rudd, and Wilson all quite lovable and funny. More than anything, I appreciated watching a romantic comedy where the relationships aren't based in goosed-up stock/fake conflict, like a guy and a girl who get on each other's nerves at first but then an attraction grows, or a guy and a girl who have been friends forever and never thought of each other that way until blah blah blah. In How Do You Know, even the jerk who obviously shouldn't wind up with the heroine (Wilson) has his charms, and isn't written or played as a villain. There isn't a lot going on in the movie in terms of story, but I actually cared about characters winding up together, and how it would happen, and to a greater degree than any number of recent attempts to class up the rom-com genre (Love and Other Drugs and Morning Glory are both slicker, but I'd much rather catch parts of How Do You Know again on cable than either of those). It's a nice feeling, and, sadly, a rare one.
I saw a couple of the other weekend releases beforehand: when my own press connections faltered, Marisa got us into a Westchester screening of Rabbit Hole, which I really liked and did not consider grief porn at all, not least because jesus christ, can we stop calling everything porn? I'm starting to feel like people who use variations on "blank porn" are not really very familiar with what pornography is like. That's the only explanation I can figure beyond the usual sheepiness of snarky writers, which also led to a bunch of people saying "the funny" for a bunch of years. Anyway, Rabbit Hole is really good and sort of restores my faith in Nicole Kidman, although in truth none of the usual stuff (Bewitched; Margot at the Wedding; Australia) hurt my faith in her at all, but it had been a few years since she gave a truly stellar performance.
I also saw Yogi Bear. This one, finally, did not exceed my expectations (though I suppose it's something that it didn't sink even further below them, either). I must be doing someone a kind of minor, stupid service, because whenever I post a review of a movie like Yogi Bear, it gets way more bitly clicks than a movie like Rabbit Hole. Though I expect that my review of Gulliver's Travels will not be afforded such a distinction (by the way, does anyone want to see Gulliver's Travels for free tomorrow night?).