Once Upon a Time in Mexico (IMDB) (Netflix)
When Robert Rodriguez finds a topic he likes, he mines it for all it's worth. Following the third Spy Kids flick, "Mexico" follows up El Mariachi and Desperado, completing the story (we think) of the musician/gunslinger. While all three films are essentially excuses for the same popcorn action, violence and humor, this time we get Johnny Depp, Willem Dafoe, Ruben Blades and Mickey Rourke, along with Desperado's Salma Hayek and El himself, Antonio Banderas.
The extra casting is welcome, especially Depp, who handles his role of a slightly out-of-control CIA agent with same wry humor as Pirates of the Caribbean, and brings some needed dialog to the proceedings (Mr. Mariachi's not a big talker). In addition to the usual evil drug kingpins, there's an evil general in the mix, and bigger political theme you didn't see in the first two films. Lots of shooting, lots lots of laughs, but lets hope this is the end of line.
Saturday, September 20, 2003
Matchstick Men (IMDB) (Netflix)
Nicholas Cage is an obsessive-compulsive compendium of mannerisms, phobias and tics (especially the tics), which makes it tough to be a smooth-talking grifter. Somehow he makes it work, though, and has a decent house and a partner (Sam Rockwell), but no life whatsoever. Running out of his medication sparks a chain of plot-propelling events, including meeting the daughter he never knew (Alison Lohman). Written by Ted "Ocean's Eleven" Griffin, and in a departure, directed by Ridley Scott, known more for action pics like Blade Runner and Blackhawk Down.
Con game movies are tricky to write, because if you reveal too little, the audience feels manipulated; reveal too much, the audience gets ahead of the story and loses interest. Having seen too many of these deals, I got ahead of the story about two-thirds in. While that certainly took the edge off the film's big payoff moment, the performances (Cage is perfect for his role, and the kid is impressively precocious) and the directorial skill carry the film home, albeit with less impact than intended.
A sap-free (in one respect at least) father-daughter flick that's ideal for those who get their kicks from figuring out the plot before they're supposed to.
Nicholas Cage is an obsessive-compulsive compendium of mannerisms, phobias and tics (especially the tics), which makes it tough to be a smooth-talking grifter. Somehow he makes it work, though, and has a decent house and a partner (Sam Rockwell), but no life whatsoever. Running out of his medication sparks a chain of plot-propelling events, including meeting the daughter he never knew (Alison Lohman). Written by Ted "Ocean's Eleven" Griffin, and in a departure, directed by Ridley Scott, known more for action pics like Blade Runner and Blackhawk Down.
Con game movies are tricky to write, because if you reveal too little, the audience feels manipulated; reveal too much, the audience gets ahead of the story and loses interest. Having seen too many of these deals, I got ahead of the story about two-thirds in. While that certainly took the edge off the film's big payoff moment, the performances (Cage is perfect for his role, and the kid is impressively precocious) and the directorial skill carry the film home, albeit with less impact than intended.
A sap-free (in one respect at least) father-daughter flick that's ideal for those who get their kicks from figuring out the plot before they're supposed to.
Lost in Translation (IMDB) (Netflix)
Being alone in Tokyo is a tough gig, whether you're an over-the-hill movie star doing some commercials that will only be seen in Japan (Bill Murray) or the wife along for the ride of her photographer-husband's business trip (Scarlett Johansson). There are so many people, no hiding that you're a foreigner, a language that you can't begin to decipher and the cab drivers wear white gloves while they pop open the passenger door from their seat (as the Brits might say, "Mind the steel panel hurtling for your naughty bits"). Directed by Sophia Coppola, who was widely reviled for her last-minute substitution performance in her dad's Godfather III, but lauded for her directorial debut The Virgin Suicides.
Having done Tokyo under similar circumstances, I can confirm that "Lost" nicely captures that truly alone feeling, reminding me that the scariest part is being forced to confront who you really are. The early scenes of Murray doing his whiskey ads are terrific, if perhaps too Murray-esque, and the relationship between him and Johansson seems authentic. The supporting characters and their performances are less nuanced, but a minor distraction. A nice little relationship movie that even guys will handle with aplomb.
Being alone in Tokyo is a tough gig, whether you're an over-the-hill movie star doing some commercials that will only be seen in Japan (Bill Murray) or the wife along for the ride of her photographer-husband's business trip (Scarlett Johansson). There are so many people, no hiding that you're a foreigner, a language that you can't begin to decipher and the cab drivers wear white gloves while they pop open the passenger door from their seat (as the Brits might say, "Mind the steel panel hurtling for your naughty bits"). Directed by Sophia Coppola, who was widely reviled for her last-minute substitution performance in her dad's Godfather III, but lauded for her directorial debut The Virgin Suicides.
Having done Tokyo under similar circumstances, I can confirm that "Lost" nicely captures that truly alone feeling, reminding me that the scariest part is being forced to confront who you really are. The early scenes of Murray doing his whiskey ads are terrific, if perhaps too Murray-esque, and the relationship between him and Johansson seems authentic. The supporting characters and their performances are less nuanced, but a minor distraction. A nice little relationship movie that even guys will handle with aplomb.
Sunday, September 07, 2003
September 11 (IMDB) (Netflix—not available)
Without expecting to enjoy the experience, I willingly accepted Sara K. "This will be good for you" Schneider's invitation to see this collection of short films on the most traumatic day in America's recent history. The subject had weight, the time lag would provide perspective on the event, and the global nature of the project would no doubt be educational.
I learned or confirmed several things; the easiest thing to lose in a short film is subtlety, much of the world is pretty pissed off at the United States, and, while I have any number of misgivings about the direction that the U.S. is taking, I don't take criticism from foreigners all that well. Afterwards, I was tempted to wallow in some Fox News flag-waving to even things out.
While four of the eleven films (from Iran's Samira Makhmalbaf, Mexico's Alejandro González Iñárritu, France's Claude Lelouch, and the U.S. entry from Sean Penn) were thoughtful, creative and/or powerful reflections on that day, many of the others seemed opportunitistic, heavy-handed political point-scoring exercises that will no doubt play better abroad. Sara reacted much more rationally, seeing an example of filmmaking's power to convey important messages.
Without expecting to enjoy the experience, I willingly accepted Sara K. "This will be good for you" Schneider's invitation to see this collection of short films on the most traumatic day in America's recent history. The subject had weight, the time lag would provide perspective on the event, and the global nature of the project would no doubt be educational.
I learned or confirmed several things; the easiest thing to lose in a short film is subtlety, much of the world is pretty pissed off at the United States, and, while I have any number of misgivings about the direction that the U.S. is taking, I don't take criticism from foreigners all that well. Afterwards, I was tempted to wallow in some Fox News flag-waving to even things out.
While four of the eleven films (from Iran's Samira Makhmalbaf, Mexico's Alejandro González Iñárritu, France's Claude Lelouch, and the U.S. entry from Sean Penn) were thoughtful, creative and/or powerful reflections on that day, many of the others seemed opportunitistic, heavy-handed political point-scoring exercises that will no doubt play better abroad. Sara reacted much more rationally, seeing an example of filmmaking's power to convey important messages.
American Splendor (IMDB) (Netflix)
You may remember Harvey Pekar from the first Dave Letterman show; he was the angry guy who didn't quite get the Letterman "this is all a big joke, just play along" schtick. While he was the most unlikely (and ultimately, unsuitable) of celebrities, Pekar's illustrated autobiographical musings American Splendor on life in the Rust Belt had become an underground classic. With Paul Giamatti as Harvey Pekar, Hope Davis as his equally neurotic wife Joyce, and Harvey Pekar as Harvey Pekar (the film occasionally jumps between the actors and the real people).
This was mostly a crowd-pleasing, self-referential comedy. Giamatti is scary-good as Pekar, almost better than the person, in the sense that it Alan Alda was said to have done a better George Plimpton than George Plimpton in Paper Lion. I could have done with less of the arguing between husband and wife, and more of the real Pekar, who naturally has mellowed over time, but in ways that make him more interesting, someone who looks at his angry past with pride, a little bemusement, and a tiny amount of regret.
You may remember Harvey Pekar from the first Dave Letterman show; he was the angry guy who didn't quite get the Letterman "this is all a big joke, just play along" schtick. While he was the most unlikely (and ultimately, unsuitable) of celebrities, Pekar's illustrated autobiographical musings American Splendor on life in the Rust Belt had become an underground classic. With Paul Giamatti as Harvey Pekar, Hope Davis as his equally neurotic wife Joyce, and Harvey Pekar as Harvey Pekar (the film occasionally jumps between the actors and the real people).
This was mostly a crowd-pleasing, self-referential comedy. Giamatti is scary-good as Pekar, almost better than the person, in the sense that it Alan Alda was said to have done a better George Plimpton than George Plimpton in Paper Lion. I could have done with less of the arguing between husband and wife, and more of the real Pekar, who naturally has mellowed over time, but in ways that make him more interesting, someone who looks at his angry past with pride, a little bemusement, and a tiny amount of regret.
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