True Grit - Original vs. Remake (Greg)

This is the beginning of a segment I hope to keep running, in which I pit recent releases against the works that inspired them. The remake of True Grit is a movie I've been looking forward to since I first heard about it, being a fan of most of the Coen Brothers' work and the original movie with John  Wayne. Since I haven't read the book, I won't make any judgments about which is the better adaptation.

The scripts follow essentially the same story. When Mattie Ross' father is betrayed and killed by his partner Tom Chaney, the young girl hires gritty U.S. Marshall Ruben "Rooster" Cogburn to track down Chaney and avenge her father's death. The two make an unsteady alliance with Texas ranger LaBoeuf and end up facing off not only against Chaney  but a criminal called Lucky Ned and his gang.

The remake sticks closely to the original for the most part but makes some changes that usually pay off. Beginning the movie in the aftermath of the father's death rather than before makes for a stronger opening, especially since the murder wasn't particularly compelling in the original film. The only thing the Coen brothers do to their disadvantage is try to force unusual bits of humor and satire into the script that often clash with the mood of the film.

The remake obviously looks better in terms of sets, costumes, and cinematography, but that's a given with the advantage of forty years and a bigger budget. That's not to say that the original looks bad, but it certainly feels dated compared to modern westerns, or even Leone's westerns. The remake takes some obvious visual cues from the original, which is a certain kind of praise in itself, but the Coen Brothers know how to expand and improve on the original visually. Both films are fairly sparse on music, but what little music they do feature is enjoyable and fits the atmosphere of the movies well.

The action is well done in both movies. Again the remake has the obvious advantage of time and budget but the original holds its own. If nothing else, John Wayne knows how to put on a compelling gunfight.

But the heart of both movies is the performances, and in that respect neither disappoints. Both Matt Damon and Glen Campbell are likable as LaBoeuf, with neither giving an obviously better performance than the other.

Mattie Ross, on the other hand, is a much easier comparison. Kim Darby certainly does justice to her role, playing a strong and likable heroine. She's convincingly tough, sharp-witted, and innocent without ever being naive, providing a good heart to a gritty tale. All of this, however, only serves as context when I say that Hailee Steinfeld absolutely blows her away. Steinfeld takes everything that works about Darby's performance and makes her character bolder, more clever, and at the same time more realistic. She sells her anguish and desire for revenge much more convincingly than Darby does. As far as memorable heroines are concerned, Steinfeld's Mattie Ross is almost in the same league as Ellen Ripley in Alien.

And now for the leading man. John Wayne and Jeff Bridges both do excellent jobs as the merciless U.S. Marshall Rooster Cogburn. Both play hardened, dissatisfied drunks with a hint of heart buried beneath a harsh exterior. The key difference is that that Bridges shows more grit, while Wayne shows more heart. And While Jeff Bridges adds more nuance to his character and the script gives him slightly more to work with, John Wayne is simply more likable in easily one of the best performances of his career.

The biggest drawback to Bridges' performance is his character's accent, which makes him sound nearly unintelligible. He mumbles through most of his lines, forcing the viewer to piece together whichever words they understand and hope they get the gist of his dialogue. This trend only gets worse when LaBoeuf loses part of his tongue in a gunfight, making much of the dialogue between the two characters a chore to understand. If Bridges has any other weakness, it's that he exaggerates his character's faults while Wayne implies and internalizes them.

So all things considered, both films are more than worthwhile and come very close to being genre landmarks. If I had to give a tiny edge to one over the other, it would be the remake, primarily for such an excellent performance by by Haille Steinfeld.

Score for both movies:

My Cousin Vinny (Day 5)

The next film is a comedy all about how accidental encounters, simple misunderstandings and tear-your hair-out coincidences can build up in the worst possible way. You know, like wanting to catch up on blog posts on the same weekend that a 7-9 team defeats the defending Super Bowl champs and the local Jets team defeats Manning in a revenge game as time expires. Yeah, NFL football is huge in my family, requiring a Farmville-like level of attention in order to not look utterly ignorant…And admittedly, being from a true Italian family, there were other convenient reasons for the delay in the next post.

DAY 5: MY COUSIN VINNY

To be quite frank, I am not sure how to review this film. Part of it is that I am embarrassed by how similar watching this film was to my encounter with Shawshank, in that I refused to watch it for a long time (You know where a bunch of people are a fan of something and you naturally feel compelled to be suspicious…e.g. snootily skeptical…about its worth in a begrudging-hipster sort of way? Anyone who has ever read Armond White knows exactly what I am talking about.), only for it to end up as one of my favorite films once I got (as my uncle would put it) my figurative head out of my ass and gave it a chance. And the other factor? Well…let’s just say that my family exhibits a great deal of the Italian-American macho mannerisms exhibited by Vinny and Company (I will get to that later), and as I try to write this, I find myself subconsciously comparing my family’s behavior to the film itself. In other words, on a personal level, it’s an awkward story for me to analyze (and if I give anything other than universal praise, I’ll never hear the end of it). None of this should be counted as a detriment to the film.

OK, enough rambling, here is the plot in vague tones, since a huge amount of the humor involves how the main characters get from Point A to Point B. Two New Yorkers, Stan Rothenstein (Mitchell Whitfield) and Bill Gambini (Ralph Macchio, who between this and Karate Kid, built a career out of playing the hapless victim of life’s misfortunes), decide to drive to UCLA for their next term of college and pass through Beechum County, Alabama. By chance, bad timing puts them in a seriously bad spot, when they grab food at a local convenience store and end up leaving with an arrest for murder. Unlike Shawshank, I am not spoiling anything in saying that the audience knows their innocence from the start; the fun is seeing how they are able to get out of such a situation. With the defense that “he’s family” (which, realistically, seems like a bit of a stretch), Bill decides that his cousin Vinny (Joe Pesci) could be their defense lawyer. So with his lovely-but-spunky fiancée Mona Lisa Vito (Marisa Tomei), Vinny comes down and…proceeds to screw up at every possible turn, completely unfamiliar with the Southern customs and anti-“big mouth” mannerisms necessary for Alabama court room etiquette (this…is a bit more likely). The fact that it is seen as even remotely possible (e.g. realistic in any sense) that Vinny could win the case by movie’s end is a miracle in screenwriting lore. Which you will hopefully notice between the repeated pain of your ribs from laughing so hard.

With this being said, two questions must be asked of this film in particular: Does the audience learn how much of a culture shock a New Yorker would face coming down there, and do the characters (on both ends) handle such awkwardness in a manner that makes this comedy serve its original purpose – namely, to laugh at its absurdity? On both counts, the verdict is a yes. At every turn between the checkpoints of the trial itself, the local population and environment are effectively used to show how out of his element Vinny is. Sometimes it only takes one time for a joke to hit home (Anyone want grits after this? Anyone at all? …I thought not.), and other times a joke is recycled several times over the course of the film (the arc regarding being able to sleep is actually quite well-delivered). But to writer Dale Launer’s credit, most of these little scenes play a big role in how the case unfolds and they almost always catches you off-guard. And especially in the courtroom, director Jonathan Lynn does a pretty good job (most of the time) in shooting said scenes in a way that lets us focus on what is being argued and not how it’s being shot. In other words, Michael Bay would NEVER be able to pull this off.

Their collective jobs here, however, are to bring out the best in the actors, because for all its pratfalls and fantastic dialogue, the bulk of the film hinges on how their respective characters come across…thank God Italians are not shamed. Despite the fact that Joe Pesci has played wanna-piece-of-me confronters like Vinny roughly, say, 573 times in his career, it is nice to see him gradually come to the realization that such an attitude alone will not help him here. In the couple scenes where he shows a little macho-laced vulnerability and (justifiably felt) insecurity, it works…eh, pretty well, which only makes his in-your-face moments in court all the more enjoyable. This added dimension is largely sparked by the presence of Marisa Tomei, who hits her role – as the fiancée who is subtly sweet and supportive, but openly won’t take any “horsepucky” – out of the ballpark. The chemistry between the two is thick as marinara sauce, and it really feel like the two enjoy bringing the best out of each other…which, by the way, is exactly why I do not mind her winning an Oscar for this film. And for those of you who think this sort of attitude would never work in a courtroom or family setting? I have experienced these sorts of “Italian time bomb” personalities all my life, and…yeah, they’re accurate.

In all honesty, I am not the sort who ever developed the same sort of New Yorker mannerisms that my family did, so I can perfectly understand if a film chock full of ‘em may turn some people off. And as for some of the legal inconsistencies in the film…I’ll refrain from comment. (All I will say is that in order to avoid mistrials, countersuits and terrible press in this day and age, no suspect would ever, ever, EVER be as poorly informed as the unlucky college students are in this situation, and it throws you out of the film a little.) But what’s a little exaggeration in a film like this anyway? I suppose it helps that those playing the Alabama locals, in particular the stern-but-fair Judge Chamberlain Haller (Fred Gwynne, who I mistook for a real Southern judge at times), hold their own and don’t come across as backwoods pushovers. And regarding the film as a whole, it’s got a bunch of memorable quotes, the originality of the script shines through, and…well, in all honesty, when I first saw Vinny handle this case on DVD, I rewatched the last 15 minutes three times in a row. I guess as the audience “jury”, he swayed me.

Score:

TOMORROW (DAY 6): APOCALYPSE NOW

Footloose (Day 4)

OK, first extensive weekend of film watching. Thank God my Steelers have until seven days from now to prepare….and that snow is starting to make mere retrieval of mail an act of practical senselessness. You’ll get icicles on your inner thyroid before you can scrape the frost off your mailbox, and I am only slightly exaggerating. I miss Hawaii, so let’s warm up with a dance film, shall we?

DAY 4: FOOTLOOSE

Oh jeez, snow fell at a rate of 2 inches per hour…good Lord…) Anyway, if you didn’t know any better, you’d say the Western town of Beaumont had a chill in the air, they move around so stiffly. But it is actually a coldness in their hearts that exists…Oh God, this is getting ridiculous…Think of a warm place…warm place…OK, ready now.

Footloose is actually a story I have encountered, in theatres and on video, several times over the past half decade, and it certainly exemplifies the whole outsider-changes-things-for-the better, cementing-role-as-teenage-girl-heartthrob, High-School-Musical-precedent formula we see about five or six times a year advertised in the big Multiplex today. This ancient version of that tale involves a Chicago kid named Ren McCormack (Kevin Bacon), who is moving with his mother to live with his relatives in Bible Belt Town, USA. I am not exaggerating here, since it is the sort of place where “church probation” is considered a major punishment to fear. And under this system, sparked by a tragic accident and encouraged by tough pastor Reverend Shaw Moore (John Lithgow), a ban on dancing is alive and not-so-well in town. With the encouragement of rhythm-inept best friend Willard (Christopher Penn…yes, Sean’s brother) and always curious about the mixed signals of Rev. Moore’s daughter Ariel (very…erm, distracting Lori Singer), Ren gets over his culture shock and finds himself an ambassador of a movement that can heal more people than he ever thought possible.

(*pulls up another blanket* OK, it is getting colder tonight, I am gonna make this quick.)

This is a weird one for me to review, because I do have a problem with this film – one that has very little to do with the ingredients the film contains. The acting works well enough and presents a gritty enough tone to seem realistic. Kevin Bacon displays enough subtlety, and raw enthusiasm for his cause, that makes his breakout fame following this film’s release well-deserved (even if someone else did do those warehouse dance moves). John Lithgow serves as a great spiritual (and I guess legal, in a theocratic sort of way) foe for Ren, using his full body language to display his full belief in his sermons’ teachings and wavering mannerisms (watch his eyes during some of the quieter scenes) to point out his uneasiness everywhere else. Oh, and Sarah Jessica Parker looks better in this, as Ariel’s friend Rusty, than she ever did as Carrie Bradshaw, I don’t care what anyone else says.

The songs also come across as catchy and effective in their synthesized, ‘80s-retro sort of way, especially tunes like “I’m Free” and the theme song by Kenny Loggins that seals his place in music history – despite him disappearing from the pop scene within a few years (and their playing the song THREE TIMES in the film!). The scenes showcase a great deal of energy, the story takes good turns, we get multiple kinds of villain types in the film…so what’s the problem? The story, simply put, tries to dip into too many areas and feels shallow in all of them. Roger Ebert, in his review (01/01/1984), points to three things that Footloose tries to do (albeit in a harsh manner): present a conflict occurring in town, introduce flashy teenage characters, and sometimes serve as a music video. I don’t have an issue with any of these elements, and sometimes they intersect quite well. But I point to another group of three:

1) Outsider-against-norm: Ren (with help of other flashy teens) attempts to find his place in a new environment, by bringing in something he naturally connects with (namely, dance) for the rest of the town to share.

2) Coping-with-loss: Reverend Moore and family attempt to struggle with a painful past, in order to reconnect with each other in the future.

3) Orwell’s 1984 for Kids: Demonstrate the importance of individualism and anti-censorship, even when such expression is discouraged (and vigilantly enforced) under religious or moral guise.

It is difficult for me to get into this without being spoiler-heavy, although I think many could piece this together by watching the trailer on Youtube. But my big problem is NOT in presenting all these storylines but in the varying emotional tones they each represent. Scenario 1 presents Ren as the underdog and makes the town (and Reverend Moore) seem like a hymn-crooning villain needing defeat…but so much is made of the lewdness and violence exhibited by some of the characters that it almost makes Rev. Moore’s warnings about corruption seem somewhat reasonable. Scenario 2 tries to show how such actions are seeded in pain, not through an innate desire for Main Street tyranny…but even when we find out the Moore family’s connection to the law against dancing, it is not consistently given the dramatic weight needed to make us sympathize with them all (in other words, play “sad and grieving” convincingly, Lori Singer!!!!). And as for the 1984-esque sense of being watched and blocking of censored material…well, it looked like the townsfolk had no trouble getting tapes when necessary, and with Internet getting Slayer and Tupac on any computer in seconds, this above all else really makes the film seem dated.

All this wouldn’t seem so disjointed if more time was given to flesh everything out, but I swear, about 25% of this movie consists of songs and dance montages – significantly undermining director Herbert Ross’ chances to move the story forward. This is why I strongly prefer the Footloose tale in the musical theatre forum, since it allows the characters to sing those same songs from the original film (and, in turn, use them to supplement their own development as characters). Plus, without such insights, it is hard to imagine such character turns as Sarah Jessica Parker looking for the nearest man to move around with on the dance floor…or Kevin Bacon taking on five dudes in a fight….you know what? Never mind, comment retracted.

Put simply, this is a classic case of a nostalgic film, one that clearly has flaws in consistency and usage of time…but that also has a great deal of charm and supplies a great deal of memorable scenes and songs that will stick with you even after your broken, aged hips prevent you from dancing anymore. And I do like that it has a unique message that does combine all three plotlines: in the end, even in pain or unfamiliarity or oppression, the choice to do what’s right is something we each are entitled and obligated to hold onto. No excuses, no copouts, just move forward. Next step for me? More blankets.

(Overall Score: 7/10, 6/10 if you are born after the 1980s.)

TOMORROW (DAY 5): MY COUSIN VINNY

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (Day 3)

In my mind, it is hard to admit when you have made a mistake in how you handle yourself, but harder still to adjust yourself in a way that gets rid of bad habits (namely, figuring out how to put aside a certain amount of time each day). I guess what I am saying is that I am sorry for the delays caused by vacationing and travelling, I promise to plan ahead better for those of you still interested in sticking around. However, I can hopefully take comfort in the fact that many people have difficulty breaking out of old behaviors too…including the characters in my next review.

DAY 3 – BUTCH CASSIDY AND THE SUNDANCE KID

It can be said that specific movie genres serve different purposes for the audience’s minds, much like different foods and spices trigger different areas of the tongue (or the stomach/heart, if Tums or Pepcid AC is not used). In inspirational movies like The Shawshank Redemption, you need at least one great scene that sends chills down your spine – in a way makes you feel allergic to your couch or to apathy in general (if you don’t know that scene in Shawshank, you haven’t seen the film or your heart is granite-filled). In comedies like Father of the Bride, the scenes do not need to be so realistic (You’re not looking for your father at your wedding reception? Really??), as long as the laughs are well-earned and you enjoy rooting for the character’s success (or failure). Both film genres tend to be fast-paced, filled with scenes that quickly build on one another to tell a moving story or cause your sides to ache.

Western films, upon my first impression, tend to be a little different. The climactic action scenes arrive eventually but there is much less urgency to arrive there, allowing the dialogue to spike your anticipation and emotional stake when guns (or sticks of dynamite) catch fire. This, it is highly important in a Western to have memorable, detailed characters that you can imagine in your living room – and then on a horse riding away with information or your ultra-thin money clip. Fortunately, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid serves as a great example of how to show, not describe, great protagonists.

We see Butch Cassidy (Paul Newman) as the notorious leader of the “Hole-in-the-Wall” Gang in 1890s Wyoming, while Sundance Kid (Robert Redford) serves as his closest companion (although it is hard to tell if he is part of Butch’s group or not). Butch gets by on wit and thinking ahead of the curve, while Sundance lets his rifle speak for him – quite effectively, it should be noted. After his leadership is tested and vindicated in a duel, Butch decides to capitalize on the idea of robbing the Union Pacific Flyer twice – in order to obtain more money when the second trip is not expected. But Butch’s plans tend to go…haywire at times, and the audience witnesses what happens when someone decides to use their money to fight back and pursue. With schoolteacher Etta Place (Katharine Ross) along for the ride, we are left wondering if Butch and Sundance can learn to follow a straight path – or if they will even have the chance.

Several key elements must be noted to understand why this film is so iconic, at least from what I could gather. The first is the absolutely phenomenal chemistry involved here; because in order to present a dynamic criminal duo from the rural West, it is not enough for them to bounce off a quirky joke or two over donuts. This can’t be some zany Rush Hour pairing, it has to look like these two are deeper than brothers – that they would kill and die for each other at the drop of a hat (and they often do). Newman and Redford both manage to do this while exuding their own unique personalities, Newman displaying Cassidy’s easygoing, fast-mouthed confidence and Sundance letting his quick (but nobly-intentioned…mostly) wit and body language get his points across. Their dialogue never falters as a convincing pair of marauding killers, and yet it still allows them to display sides that make them human and relatable…after all, who else today isn’t frustrated with what “straight living” in this economy gets you? It makes them worth rooting for, because they see it as simply a job, an exciting one and the only one they know…even as they swindle and hoodwink themselves into a corner. And the less I say about Katharine Ross’ introduction, the better, for it demonstrates everything you need to know about her personality in just one line and flip of her hair (or two).

But beyond how these characters are introduced is how they are sustained, and in turn, how we can relate to them. Now I absolutely must mention the musical montages here, which range from plucking string instruments to a “ba-da-da-da-dum” style of pseudo-singing that will ring bells of “Glee” and “Rachel Berry melodrama” to many young minds. I am SO sick and tired of how instrumental sequences, or interludes of any kind, have recently become no more than a chance to either (A) show the hipness of the film by presenting some cheap dance or pop song (I’m looking at you, Mr. Tim “Break-Dance” Burton!), (B) appeal to younger kids by trying to flaunt as many cool, new products on the screen (decimating artistic integrity for profit, we already have Hannah Montana for that!), or (C) as filler if the movie needs another 5-20 minutes to add (the latter if you made Disaster Movie). Like all else, in order to work, it needs to add to the story!!! And here, on several occasions, it shows the efforts and travels of Butch, Sundance and Company, in a way that keeps the film length acceptable and gets the gist of the plot development displayed, all without wasted dialogue or repetition. Big plus for use of photos.

And that is what a Western is all about, right? It does not matter if Butch and Sundance really did commit every robbery, or escape in every way displayed, or causes all those women to swoon in real life. In the 1890s and even today, stories often become exaggerated and legendary because of how they are often orally told…and that was just fine with people. The meaning and thrill of hearing the story is what mattered, not the literal truth alone. This film actually emphasizes that too, with its opening disclaimer, “Most of what follows is true.” And don’t any of you tell me that you never embellish in the same way. Does it matter if it was truly the worst traffic jam ever this morning? Do we really need to hear about every twitch and reflex made during a big play you made on your annoying co-worker at your company football tournament? Is anyone going to really ask exactly what measurements that attractive woman on the bus had? No, no, and….um, no, we can imagine ourselves. As long as a Western tells an effective story, the rest is all just fixings and trimmings on the ol’ turkey.

So while this film can drag a bit during some of the chase scenes, and may not serve everybody in today’s “need 500 Facebook posts to show I had a great day” generation, it is a nice reminder to see characters fleshed out gradually – on their terms and not ours.

Score:

TOMORROW (DAY 4): FOOTLOOSE

Father of the Bride (Day 2)

In the rush of feeling the discovery of a great, great film (and a hopefully decent film series) yesterday, I forgot to mention that there will be times that I will be travelling around. Depending on which time zone I am in, what passes for me as “evening” may be “man, it is so late and there is no way in Satan’s backyard I am going to stay up waiting for this post with an important class/meeting/hangover in 8 hours” for other people. So I am always going to try getting this in by midnight in the area I am in at the time…and it just so happens that Hawaii is where I am right now, for the wedding of my cousin. So apologies in advance if you read this on January 3rd; as this film indicates, the happiest day of a couple’s life can be the craziest for some of their far-travelling guests.

This one is for you, Chris and Ayako, many congratulations and feelings of love from me. It is my warmest wish that your blissful union lasts much longer than this blog does.

DAY 2: FATHER OF THE BRIDE

Some films on this list are ones that, admittedly, I am not seeing or critiquing for the first time. On the contrary, there are some I have watched so many times that I can recite many of the lines from reflexive memory (in a way, in all likelihood, similar to you remembering multiplication, Bible verses or Pokemon characters). This film happens to be one of them, for I have seen this on many different occasions throughout my life. It is one I enjoy. And since weddings are on the mind, it seems as good a time as any to reflect on the blessed occasion, and the insanity behind the scenes.

Even before we begin shopping for wedding rings and bearded ministers, chances are we have taken a great deal for granted growing up. When we had stomachaches or the flu, Mom knew how to create the perfect potion to make us feel better (hopefully accompanied by a blanket and soup). When we needed help with math homework or throwing a baseball, Dad always knew how to do everything perfectly. Life is never perfect for anyone, of course, but (for most of us, anyway) the adults we looked up to were perceived by us as invincible superheroes with boundless energy and Band-Aids. We were given the performance of “Upbringing: The Musical!” (maybe accompanied by screaming offstage) on a daily basis, never witnessing the chaos needed to create it. Planning weddings muse be very similar for you parents out there…boy and girl meet, they fall in love, he buys a ring, she buys a dress, they say I do. Sometimes, it is nice to get a taste of what we’re getting into, and this film should be required viewing for Mommies and Daddies-to-be…and not just because it is an easy Flintstone-shaped pill to swallow.

(Disclaimer time: before anything else, it should be noted that the 1991 Steve Martin version most people today know is a remake of the 1950 film featuring Spencer Tracy. This is the one I grew up with, and thus the one that resonates most today for me, so please bear with me if this is not the one you prefer. Hopefully, I will try to be fair in judging it.)
In this scenario, we are introduced to George Banks, an owner of a shoe company called Sidekicks, and he does not like change. He has lived in the same home in the same Californian community for decades, still looks fondly at the carved tree and tent-produced holes in the backyard, and clearly would push a “pause/replay” button on his life if he could. But most of all, he is a family man, someone who still sees his growing children as they were in pigtails, grass stains, and Justin Bieber-level voices and prefers it that way. Of course, nothing in a comedy can stay peaceful for long, and for George, the biggest cause of chaos is his daughter Annie returning from Rome with news of her engagement – and as we find out, not a very cheap one. Over the course of an hour and a half, glass windows break, budgets break, and at certain points, hearts break too. But honestly, if audiences cannot relate to a story about celebrations too big for their wallets, what can they relate to?

A film like this hinges on the central character being relatable enough for audiences to put loved ones in the story arc (in this case, fathers or anyone who has imagined them “preparing” for the first boyfriend brought home…insert joke about guns or Home Alone-level traps here), and yet goofy enough that they can laugh at how absurd – although not impossibly absurd – it would be if it happened to them. Steve Martin, who (at least for a couple decades) has often displayed an ability to make humor with a solid point, embodies George perfectly. I can imagine my dad with the same steely gaze and handgrips ready to break concrete when meeting my sisters’ boyfriends, ready to face the wrong guy but more afraid for when they meet the right guy.

George wants to be there for Annie, but he has his own hurdles to push through – from giving the fiancée the chance to prove he is “good enough”, to trying to find the right balance between handling finance and promoting romance, to ultimately realizing that letting his daughter go is not the same as losing his worth in her eyes. We understand, we all let go, we all let the snow fall. Martin’s mannerisms and sense of timing clearly display this, while moments like the basketball scenes prevent him from becoming too much of a caricature in the storyline. The supporting cast does its job as well. As Annie, Kimberly Williams-Paisley shows a great range of emotions that seems reasonable for a bride with a father going insane, while Diane Keaton’s Nina displays a sense of patience on screen that screams “Oh, I have handled this crap from my husband SO many times before! Remember the time at the pumpkin patch….?” And Martin Short…well, let’s just say that Fronk’s accent and quirks as the wedding coordinator will only appeal to some people, but those people will never stop quoting him.

All this said, however, sometimes the writing and Michael Shyer’s direction struggles to maintain that balance. On occasion, the jokes really do feel a little too over the top; I mean, “fasten your condom”? Really?? Even subconsciously, parents would do anything to repress that image from entering their minds around their kids. Put bluntly, all sex education aside, no dad would ever say that out loud, even as a slip of the tongue. Also, even though the jokes are gret in the scenes and there really is little wasted time on screen, there are logical issues with the sequence of events (all I will ask, trying to be vague, is how George avoided awkward conversation when visiting the in-laws) that actually brings serious questions into how the rest of the plot unfolds…which can take you out of the film.

Nevertheless, the remake really is a fun, easy-to-follow comedy and one that has a huge

nostalgia factor for any parent or anyone who wants to understand what their parents likely went through raising them. It is easy to root for the wedding to go well, because we all have (or will likely have) moments like George’s – where we wake up with confusion and spilled banana mush on our shirts, all while wondering where the years went as our kids pack their final bags for freshman year. I guess memories are sometimes worth a little more elbow grease every now and then…even if the wedding is taking place at 9:00 in the morning. All the best, Chris, you totally deserve what you’ve attained!

Score:

TOMORROW (DAY 3): BUTCH CASSIDY AND THE SUNDANCE KID

M Night Shymalan Retrospective (Part 4)

The Happening:

At first glance, The Happening is the sort of movie one might make if they wanted to make of parody of M Night Shymalan's style. The plot structure is standard B-movie fare: some mysterious but vaguely supernatural phenomenon is causing people to kill themselves in staggeringly large numbers, with some inevitably ridiculous explanation looming toward the end of the movie.

Like The Village, there's a collection of quality actors, like Mark Wahlberg, John Leguizamo, and Zooey Deschanel, but they all seem to be confused with how to deliver their awkwardly written roles. Wahlberg is never convincing as a biology teacher, and his attempts at lightheartedness and humor usually fall flat. Leguizamo is marginally better in this respect, but never memorable or more than even momentarily likable. Deschanel play's the wife to Wahlberg's character, but their relationship never has any real chemistry or compelling drama. Frank collison plays one of the fellow survivors of this disaster, and he has a constant expression of bug-eyed confusion as if he gave his entire performance while high.

The movie follows these characters and other survivors trying to outrun this strange phenomenon. The horror elements of the story are a complete gamble. Some of the suicides are genuinely unsettling and even terrifying, whereas others are downright goofy. On top of that, there never seems to be an appropriate level of panic to the situation. That aside, the overall adventure is passable and very occasionally even compelling. Occasional scenes, especially the more imaginative suicides and scenes featuring Leguizamo's character, partially live up to the potential of Shymalan's early movies. And the idea of taking refuge in a model house is admittedly clever.

The explanation given for the disaster -that plants are getting their revenge for humankind's destruction of the environment by releasing a deadly chemical - feels absolutely asinine. Unlike some of Shymalan's previous twists, it fails to add any depth or insight to the plot. And on top of that, it's not even revealed in a clever way. It also results in some completely absurd scenes, like characters outrunning the wind, which leads to a few unusual plot inconsistencies.

All of this results in a movie that ranges from decent disaster movie to complete self-parody. Not exactly a bad movie, but not one that I can recommend to anyone except maybe a fan of sci-fi channel disaster movies. Once again I'll credit Shymalan with ambition and the desire to do something different, but the execution shows some obvious signs of decline.

Score:

The Last Airbender

Before the reviews came in, I had high hopes for this movie. Being a fan of the cartoon series Avatar: The Last Airbender, I expected a brisk, light-hearted fantasy action series. As long as the show's plot structure was kept more or less intact and the and the film delivered some exciting magic-infused martial arts action, most viewers would be satisfied. What we got instead was not simply a disappointment, but a movie that's absolutely baffling in the extent and creativity of its ineptitude.

While Shymalan never seemed like an obvious choice for directing Avatar, I can at least see the logic behind this choice. M Night Shymalan has a reputation for getting great performances out of child actors, and he's known for dealing with the mythical and supernatual in realistic ways. Ironically, it's exactly these qualities that backfire the hardest in The Last Airbender. While all of the acting is uneven, the young actors playing the leads of Aang, Katara, and Sokka are particularly laughable. But like with the Star Wars prequels, I don't blame the actors when a weak script forces them to say and do asinine things. The dialogue goes beyond feeling unnatural; characters more or less just spit out plot points without bothering to formulate them into what can even loosely be called conversations. As a result, moments that were compelling on the show just end up feeling goofy in the movie. 

Characters are usually dumbed down to basic archetypes like hero, hero's friend, and bad guy. The Fire Nation, for example, are given no motivation in the movie, aside from being evil. And even this would be forgivable if they at least succeeded at being palpably evil. But when you cast The Daily Show's Aasif Mandvi in what should be an action villain role, disaster is pretty much guaranteed.

But at least this leaves Shymalan's mature eye for the supernatural, right? Wrong. Don't feel bad, I had high hopes too. The cartoon's interesting Asian-inspired take on magic and spirituality is dumbed down just like everything else. And the actual bending fails to impress visually. And even in 3D they feel more like pages from a pop-up book than anything with real depth and dimension. It's rare for a movie to make me yearn for the likes of Michael Bay, who can at least make special effects crash against each other in a fun and visually exciting way. The action is mostly pg-rated slapstick butt-kicking that's too lacking in violence or artistry for me to call martial arts. And the final battle scene just looks like a lot of people swinging weapons around aimlessly rather than something out of the classic fantasy action movies that The Last Airbender tries to emulate.

The one aspect of the movie that actually delivers is the set design. The Last Airbender features some beautiful sights and the occasional pretty special effect. The water tribe's fortress in the third act is spectacularly imagined and executed. And every once in a while, the fighting is actually passable. Unfortunately, this isn't nearly enough to save such an irreparably flawed movie.

I'd almost recommend seeing The Last Airbender because the full extent of its failure is almost an artform in itself. However, this is one of those rare movies that fails at being a good movie instead of succeeding at being a bad one. In other words, this could at least have been a guilty pleasure or an enjoyably bad movie, but the bottom line is that on top of its technical failures, it simply isn't any fun. For me, this isn't quite the disappointment that The Village was, but that's hardly any consolation at all.

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The Shawshank Redemption (Day 1 of Ian's 365 days of classic movies segment)

First, a brief preamble to this segment. 

Looking ahead at this project, in many ways, feels like trying to find the best way to crawl through five football fields of steaming, garden-fresh sewage. Regardless of how you trek through, smelling like peaches is probably not a realistic goal to have. But at the same time, a breath of fresh air can reveal itself in a way not truly savored before. I suppose for me, the primary element in said air would be perspective.

I love seeing films in theatres, but in many ways, I don’t truly know what I am watching. By that, I mean…I don’t know how to truly appreciate where cinema currently is, since I have no clue where it has been. You are talking to a guy who was raised in a house with three sisters, on a steady diet of Disney and The Land Before Time, to the point where I did not see The Wizard of Oz until my freshman year of college. This is my effort to rectify that. Some of these films I have seen, most I have not. But until further notice, I see myself as a writer first and a novice fan of cinema second, so bear with me in the upcoming year as I take a stab at stepping into the Ebert-esque role.

And now to the review

This is the film that was requested on Spill more than any other, by a significant margin. It is also one of the films that I have intentionally avoided like the proverbial plague of gonorrhea simmering in a frat party. Maybe it was a bit of improper judgment (OK, a great deal of it), but it felt like the premise of “guy goes to jail for killing wife, and endures more trials than Job, Harry Potter and Lindsay Lohan combined” did not sound very uplifting at all to me. So why is this film rated higher than any other on IMDB? Why did so many of my friends and family express shock at my skepticism towards its emotional impact? Well, I came, I saw the film, and at long last, I get it.

Because this movie essentially hinges on the manner in which vague plot details are unveiled, I will attempt to summarize it briefly without giving too much away. The film is initially set in the 1940s, when Andy Dulfrense is sentenced to life in prison for the brutal murder of his wife. Shipped off to Shawshank Prison, not much is thought of him by any of the hardened veterans there – least of all by a steel bar-lined, street-smart “go-to guy” named Red. But over the course of months and years, Andy proves to be someone with an unusual sense of resiliency stemming from some untapped, uncaged source. Any sort of fairy tales about prison life are quickly dashed for viewers, as visions of brutality, corruption and lust of several kinds fly across the screen – a vision of a different sort of society, where the “American dream” is not picket-fenced self-reliance but hardened survival. Andy stays alive.

Everything about the way Frank Darabont directs this film masterfully interconnects, with every spanning shot of the courtyard and every simple exchange of dialogue (or cigarettes) serving the larger purpose of telling an engrossing story. I planned to not get pulled into this film, but the ambiguous manner in which the prisoners regard each other is eye-opening. Everybody claims to be innocent behind those walls, everybody got screwed by a lawyer or a judge or a scumbag bearing false witness, so named offenses alone cannot be a judge of character. In a way not even fully seen in normal civilization, only actions determine how you are seen by others…and thus, every minute act done by Andy and Company holds a significant factor in how our perception of Shawshank Prison evolves over 2 ½ hours.

That being said, all the anticipation and buildup in the world cannot satisfy without the right actors delivering the product, and this is an example of a film perfectly cast. As the genius banker-turned-oppressed inmate, Tim Robbins successfully manages to convey a deft mix of sullenness and strength of will even when he is silently in the ordeals he endures. Complimenting his unquenchable idealism is the grounded realism found in Morgan Freeman’s Red, a trait that leads me to believe he could play an old, wise soul even when learning how to spell the word “soul” in grade school. I guess it is not just impregnated penguins whose stories are enlivened by his gift for smooth, emotionally-resonating narration.  

The range of the supporting cast does its job adequately as well; ranging from the comic relief William Sadler’s wisecracking Heywood to the Bible-justified authoritative hand of Bob Gunton’s Warden Norton, most scenes elicit the necessary reaction of inspiration or loathing necessary to pull you in – so that by the time everything is revealed in the final hour, you are hooked.

I have no shame in admitting that I have been a bit of a blubber-eye in many films, especially those under the names “Pixar” and “Don Bluth”. But it is very rare for a film to move me to that point even after the credits have rolled and I have walked out of the room. The way every little detail comes together seamlessly in the climactic scenes (albeit with a little too much time recapping information in flashbacks, in my honest opinion), you need to see this film at least twice to catch everything. But chances are, you will want to go back more than once anyway because of how it makes viewers feel.

I adore this film, and have rarely been so happy to be so convincingly proven wrong. And after thinking about it, even though I think everyone can get their own message from films like this, I think I understand a little of why this movie is so universally beloved (bear with me for a minute). Hopefully not giving too much away, one theme reflected on in Shawshank is how prisoners eventually get attached to the prison way of life. They make friends there, they learn lessons and build respect, and they do not need to hide their crimes because they are out in the open. Removing that foundation after decades of confinement is equivalent to having your very sense of direction pulled out from under you. It can cripple, it can kill. So it is tempting for criminals to find a way back in once they are out.

My guess is that even without literal bars, we all hesitate in a similar way. It is very hard to maintain a sense of optimism when what we’ve gained comfort from no longer works for us – whether it involves a new change in scenery, death of a loved one, betrayal by a trusted comrade, or simply a growing sense of cynicism. More than anything, this film appears to emphasize the fleetingness of the present moment’s sense of security – and that hope in itself, for a better future and a validated past, is really our best shot at grabbing onto something that can sustain us in any circumstance…With any luck, as I start this a very uncertain year in Hawaii and (likely) end it in England, Shawshank will be proven right in its belief: namely, that such hope found in others can be contagious. If so, no vaccine for this film’s view of the human spirit should ever be made. Please, see it now and enjoy the “now”. 

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Coming up next: Father of the Bride