Rock the Kasbah

by George Wolf

“Star Waaaaars! Nothing but Staaar Waaarrrs!”

It’s been nearly forty years since Bill Murray’s Nick the Lounge Singer crooned on SNL. Wouldn’t it be a kick to check in and see how life has treated Nick Ocean?

Rock the Kasbah could have been that movie. Too bad, because instead we get a few solid moments of Murray lunacy amid the wildly unfocused whitewashing of one courageous woman’s journey.

Murray is Richie Lanz, a struggling L.A. talent agent who catches a break when his client/secretary Ronnie (Zooey Deschanel) gets booked on a USO tour…in Afghanistan. Ronnie quickly regrets entertaining in a war zone, so she hires local mercenary Bombay Brian (Bruce Willis) to get her out of the country post haste.

While Richie is trying to figure out a way home himself, he’s befriended by a native cabbie (Arian Moayed), the local hooker with a heart of gold (Kate Hudson), and two crazy ammunition peddlers (Scott Caan and Danny McBride).

It’s all silly, contrived and only mildly amusing, but when a job offer from the ammo guys takes Richie to Pakistan, he hears the young Salima (Leem Lubany) singing and instantly decides he needs to introduce her to the world.

Richie is told singing in public would bring a death sentence for Salima, but she stows away in his cab back to Kabul, and defiantly auditions for the TV show Afghan Star.

It’s all built around real events in the life of Setara Hussainzada, who still faces death threats after revealing her face and competing on Afghan Star. Her story has been told in two documentaries – 2009’s Afghan Star and 2010’s Silencing the Song – and is certainly deserving of a serious dramatic treatment. Though she does get a nice acknowledgment before the credits, screenwriter Mitch Glazer and director Barry Levinson are more interested in the “white savior” angle and creating a comedy vehicle for Murray.

Thud.

Characters disappear at will, plot lines are invented and ignored, no one really seems interested, and the Kasbah is left more bored than rocked.

“Please let these Star Wars……staaaaaaaaay!”

If only.

Peace Officer

by George Wolf

By the time you’re halfway through Peace Officer, you’ll be ready to nominate William “Dub” Lawrence for Attorney General, Chief of Police or whatever post will put his sensibilities and intelligence to the best possible use.

Lawrence is a former Utah sheriff who founded the local SWAT team that, in a cruelly ironic twist, killed his son-in-law. Since that day, Lawrence admits he has become a man possessed by the search for justice, not only for his family, but for others who have suffered from the militarization of American law enforcement.

It’s a topic that’s extremely polarizing and easily derailed with inflamed rhetoric, but co-directors/co-writers Brad Barber and Scott Christopherson wisely use Lawrence’s calm, measured demeanor as a perfect anchor for their balanced take on a vital issue.

How, and why, did we get the point where tactics and weapons of the military are standard issue for police forces across the country?

The film’s strength lies in its nuance, and in its refusal to provide snap judgements. Rather than looking to vilify police officers, the goal here is to understand how the system itself has become untenable, all but guaranteeing continued tragedies.

It’s not a fun conversation, but it’s one that’s long overdue.

Peace Officer may speak softly, but it’s hard to imagine an American film that is more urgent.

Drunk Stoned Brilliant Dead: The Story of the National Lampoon

by George Wolf

If you only know National Lampoon as the two words that came before “Animal House” or “Vacation,” director Douglas Tirola has many stories for you.

His documentary Drunk Stoned Brilliant Dead: The Story of the National Lampoon, opens your eyes to the star-studded journey that turned a college parody magazine into what Judd Apatow calls “the Muhammed Ali of modern comedy.”

It all began at Harvard in the late 1960s, when students Doug Kenney, Henry Beard and Robert Hoffman were the editors behind a parody of Mademoiselle magazine. More successful parody issues followed, until Kenney and Beard got the backing they needed to make their Harvard Lampoon a national publication.

By the early 70s, National Lampoon was an important counterculture voice, remembered by John Goodman as being “sharp, crystal clear, and above all, funny,” while Kevin Bacon recalls seeking out the magazine for one reason: “breasts.”

Tirola, who also co-wrote the film with acclaimed writer Mark Monroe (The Cove, Sound City), has a good sense of how to use the goldmine of archival footage he’s assembled. As the National Lampoon brand expands to stage shows, radio hours, albums, a production company and movies, there are priceless never-before-seen clips of John Belushi, Bill Murray, Chevy Chase, Gilda Radner, Harold Ramis, Christopher Guest and more, all years before stardom.

But beyond a greatest hits collage, Tirola’s main focus is the print version, and the behind-the scenes frenzy that led to touching a nerve in an era where “people defined themselves by the magazines they read.” Valuable first-person interviews are included, as well as numerous scrapbook-style images and animation showing how the spirit of National Lampoon influenced popular culture from attitude to advertising.

More movie clips would bring more hilarity, but DSBD is still plenty funny while being infinitely informative. Brisk, energetic, nostalgic and, yes, tragic, it’s a fitting ode to a groundbreaking bunch of misfits.