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Reviews of what’s out now

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Cleanup in the East Wing!

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by George Wolf

 

Well, I believe I owe Olympus Has Fallen an apology.

Just a few months back, I labeled that film a pandering, if strangely entertaining, Die Hard in the White House.

Little did I know that White House Down was lurking like a crazy uncle waiting to show how much louder his bitchin’ Camaro is than your puny ride. This new presidential ass-kicking fest proudly lives by a bigger, louder, faster mentality, uncorking more of everything – the pandering, the wisecracks, the unapologetic Die Hardiness.

Channing Tatum dons the dirty wife-beater as John Cale, a D.C. cop on a White House tour with his young daughter when a paramilitary group invades. Naturally, John has been denied a spot on the Secret Service detail of President James Sawyer (Jamie Foxx) that very afternoon, which adds a redemptive angle to John’s heroics that the film wears like a manipulative badge of honor.

John and the Prez fight the baddies through every room, hallway and secret Marilyn Monroe love tunnel (patent pending) in the White House, recreating as many Die Hard moments as they can. Shoes off? Elevator shaft? Loved one held hostage? Cops mistakenly shooting at our hero on the roof?  Oh, yes, all that and so much more, as clever one liners give way to all-out comedy routines while bullets fly and rockets launch.

Director Roland Emmerich (Independence Day, 2012) displays his usual amount of subtlety:  none.  He keeps music swelling and flags waving, utilizing James Vanderbilt‘s script to deliver plenty of well choreographed, large scale action mixed with overblown speeches full of generic moralities.

And yet somehow, the unabashed ridiculousness and likable performances wear you down, and the over two hour assault on your objections calls to mind Russell Crowe in Gladiator.

“Are You Not Entertained?”  

Yes, a little.

Pass the popcorn.

 

Verdict-2-5-Stars

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J3Dnvay5S7w

New In Theaters

Elijah Wood in Leg Warmers?

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Maniac

by Hope Madden

Just a steel town girl on a Saturday night lookin’ for the fight of her life. Back in 1983, that song backed the legwarmers, sweat, quick feet, and water buckets of Flashdance, but originally, Michael Sembello wrote it about a different hot mess.

Sembello first penned the tune in tribute to 1980’s cult slasher Maniac. Mouth-breathing schlub Joe Spinell made waves with the low budget flick featuring a sympathetic(ish) protagonist whose mommy issues drive him to extreme behavior. Despite its obvious plot, poor acting and over-the-top misogynistic butchering (or perhaps because of these), the film maintains a lingering popularity.

French horror maestro Alexandre Aja (Haute Tension) – who produces and co-writes – leads the reboot that ups the budget, talent, and blood.

Elijah Wood fills in for Spinell as Frank, mannequin aficionado. Frank’s mom showed her maternal devotion in unseemly ways, and those mixed messages took their toll on the boy. As a result, migraines, anxiety attacks, lacking social skills and a tendency toward dismemberment mark Frank’s adulthood. (What is Frodo Baggins doing to that lady?!)

The basic plot remains intact, but Aja and his crew of writers update Frank’s tale in a number of ways, most of them for the better – and yet, there was a seedy charm to Spinell’s setting, the workaday world of New York, the retread doesn’t capture.

The acting is certainly superior, though.

Wood, in particular, crafts a genuinely sympathetic character. This feat is more impressive than it sounds, and Frank’s way with a hunting knife is not the only obstacle facing the actor. Director Franck Khalfoun chooses to adopt the killer’s-point-of-view, shooting the entire film as though through Frank’s eyes. We see only what he sees, meaning that we rarely even glimpse Wood except by way of reflective surfaces.

The decision works here and there. You are aligned with the killer, seeing events as he sees them. Given what it is that he sees (largely his own actions), Khalfoun simultaneously indulges and punishes our voyeuristic behavior.

The act of seeing through Frank’s eyes should make the character feel more real for us, as it ostensibly establishes a connection between viewer and character. It doesn’t, though. It articulates Frank’s disconnect from humanity by disconnecting us from Frank.

This could be a blessing, though. He is, after all, a maniac.

And he’s dancin’ like he’s never danced before! (Go ahead – try and get that song out of your head.)

 

Verdict-2-5-Stars

New In Theaters

Putting You There Where Things are Hollow

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By George Wolf

 

THE BLING RING

 

My son has lived in L. A. for almost a year. It took him all of two weeks as a Southern California resident to report, “Everyone here is so phony.”

Imagine growing up in that environment, and you might start to understand the treatment that The Bling Ring gives to some clueless teenage criminals.

In the late 2000s, a group of five Cali teenagers began burglarizing the homes of celebrities they admired, including their favorite “fashion icons” such as Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan. All told, the gang swiped about three million in cash and property before the popo caught up with them.

Writer/director Sofia Coppola, who of course did grow up in this environment, establishes the setting with the ease you would expect. It is a Petri dish of vapidity, so lacking in substance that one teen seems genuinely proud of the depth of thought displayed in his stated ambition to “have my own lifestyle.”

The line that Coppola walks so effectively is one that allows her to keep both sympathy and judgement at arm’s length. The mistake would be to equate the frivolity of the story with a lack of substance in the film itself. Yes its light, but there’s ironic fun to be had, and a pair of fine performances to appreciate.

As Rebecca, the group’s ringleader, Katie Chang perfectly embodies the blinding self-absorption of a young lady who simply cannot imagine anything wrong with always getting what she wants at any given moment.

And Emma Watson, taking a major step toward shedding her image as Hermione from Harry Potter, is fantastic as Nikki, who personifies her fame-obsessed culture by viewing a very public arrest as a springboard to running a major charity organization…”or perhaps a country.”

Though it marks a stylistic shift for Coppola, you can see how this crime story spoke to her. In films such as Lost in Translation and Somewhere, she examined fame introspectively. The kids in The Bling Ring got no time for that, but Coppola makes them oddly fascinating.

 

Verdict-3-5-Stars

 

 

 

 

New In Theaters

Escaping the Summertime Blues

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The Kings of Summer

by Hope Madden

School’s out! With their freshman year behind them, Joe (Nick Robinson) and Patrick (Gabriel Basso) have just the long, suburban Cleveland summer at home with their folks to look forward to. So they split.

The Kings of Summer sidles up alongside Joe and Patrick as they abandon the parents who make them crazy, and strike it out on their own in the woods between the golf course and the Boston Market. There, in the house they build from refuse and port-a-potty doors, they will decide what it means to be men. It’s just the two best friends and nature – and the unsettling, under explained and under developed third wheel, Biaggio (Moisas Arias).

Sundance loved The Kings of Summer, and there is a lot to find appealing. Director Jordan Vogt-Roberts captures a leisurely magic in the forest, filling the screen with lovely images that visually underscore the boys’ emotional tumult in a way the script fails to.

Like all good coming of age dramedies, Summer serves up well meaning parents who just don’t understand. Nick Offerman (TV’s Parks and Recreation) excels as Joe’s deeply bitter single dad, and the two actors perform beautifully together. They mine scenes for the kind of tensions that develop only after a lifetime of familial strife.

Megan Mullally and Marc Evan Jackson are a riot as Patrick’s gleefully overprotective sires, but the script begins to show real cracks as the broad (and often very funny) parental comedy bumps up against the lush and delicate indie drama the boys are generating. The parents would fit in Better Off Dead, while the kids lean more Stand By Me – a stylistic mishmash the film never really overcomes.

The film boasts a good number of laugh out  loud moments amid the tenderly wrought angst, but the humor masks deeper problems. Comic flashes serve to distract from weaknesses in the script, a fact most evident in the boys’ unusual cabinmate, Biaggio. Not a character at all, he’s a one-dimensional joke opportunity.

Vogt-Roberts keeps proceedings wholesome – a refreshing change for a coming of age indie – and every performance delivers. Kings of Summer offers a sweet, charming summer distraction. It just doesn’t do much more.

 

Verdict-3-0-Stars

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What’s In a Name?

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World War Z

by Hope Madden

Fans of Max Brooks’s novel World War Z are less likely to be disappointed than baffled by Brad Pitt’s big screen adaptation. The film has about as much in common with Shakespeare as it has with Brooks’s wonderful, fictitious oral history of the zombie pandemic. Still, it’s not a bad flick. Not at all.

Pitt plays Gerry Lane, ex-UN investigator pulled back into active duty to determine the cause of – and ideally find a cure for – the zombie outbreak that is decimating the world population and will otherwise spell our ultimate doom.

Pitt, who produced as well, teams with director Marc Forster, a filmmaker better known for moody drama (Monster’s Ball, The Kite Runner) than zombie adventure, but he handles the task with aplomb.

The film opens briskly, establishes empathetic, realistic characters (assuming you can forgive one wholly unrealistic and insultingly idiotic decision Forster’s team of writers drummed up for Gerry’s wife), then throws episode after episode of chaos at you until you’re breathless. Not a bad way to piece together a zombie movie.

Of course, this is not exactly a zombie flick. It’s not a horror film at all. WWZ is an intelligently crafted international thriller and action movie that happens to include zombies. Between Pitt’s caring investigator and Forster’s ability to maintain heart pounding urgency for two full hours, they pull it off pretty well.

Surprises abound (especially if you’ve read the book), and though there are images here and there that recall one Z-flick or another (28 Days Later, in particular), on the whole, the film creates its own niche.

Though seeing the 3D version is not ultimately necessary, the added depth gives visceral impact to the many helicopter shots of chaos below, while providing quiet scenes a sense of “what’s around that corner?” dread.

Indeed, tension and dread counterbalance thrill effectively in a flick that keeps you guessing, jumping, and rooting for an intelligent and caring hero.

It’s certainly a more kind-hearted imagining of the apocalypse than the one Brooks offered, where nations turned on each other, the greedy and superficial partied on as though they were immune, and governments enacted gut-wrenching action to try to stem the outbreak. Pitt and Forster – and their team of writers – pull a lot of punches Brooks was happy to land. Their intent was clearly quite different, and the result worthwhile. I guess it’s just the title they liked.

Verdict-3-5-Stars

 

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Revenge of the Monster Nerds

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Monsters University

by Hope Madden

Any mediocre Pixar release feels like a stunning disappointment, which may not be fair. No one bats 1000, and for every Cars 2 the animated giants release three Toy Storys. It’s an excellent swap, and to be fair, Monsters University is not quite Cars 2. Though similarities exist.

First of all, it’s a sequel to one of the studio’s lesser films. While 2001’s Monsters Inc. was imaginative, clever fun, it just doesn’t measure up to, say, Up. It wasn’t a work of groundbreaking, mind blowing, heart wrenching, hilarious genius. It was better than whatever other animators were doing that year, though.

But the competition’s only gotten stiffer in the last dozen years, and Pixar will need another unique and wondrous tale to really stand out. Or, they could just rehash the old Eighties staple Revenge of the Nerds for the 10-and-under set.

You may remember Mike (Billy Crystal) and Sully (John Goodman), two BFFs working the scare floor at Monster’s Inc., where children’s screams are harnessed for the energy to fuel Monstropolis. (Now, see, that’s clever.) Well, as it turns out, back in college the two buddies were actually rivals.

Both were scare majors, but while Sully lazily relied on his natural talents, Mike had to work hard. They didn’t get along, and wound up expelled with only one chance to get back into college: take a rag-tag group of losers and beat the other frats and sororities at a scaring competition. (Less clever.)

Wildly predictable plotting leads to a handful of moderately funny gags, but the film does boast a few genuine strengths.

For instance, Helen Mirren plays the terrifying dean. Helen Mirren is never a bad decision. Other solid voice talent abounds, including Charlie Day, who steals scenes as Mike and Sully’s wrong-headed frat brother.

In true Pixar fashion, the film is also a visual achievement to behold, the monsters offering endless tactile and color opportunities for animators, who appreciated the challenge.

Directed by Columbus College of Art & Design grad Dan Scanlon, making his debut as an animated feature helmsman (he’s previously directed a documentary and a short), the film charms and entertains in a forgettable way. It’s the best solution so far this summer for wee ones, but this isn’t that Pixar gem that will stay with them until they have kids of their own.

Hell, they’ll probably forget it by the time Despicable Me 2 opens.

 

 

Verdict-2-5-Stars

New In Theaters, Uncategorized

Ado Worthy

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By George Wolf

 

Okay, so Joss Whedon can write and/or direct TV shows, animated classics, horror homages, superhero blockbusters, you name it. Wouldn’t it be funny if he took a stab at Shakespeare?

It is funny, and thoroughly entertaining.

With Much Ado About Nothing, Whedon again shows his storytelling instincts are dead on, regardless of the genre. Shakespeare’s classic comedy about love and deception is given a present-day makeover, employing a game cast of Whedon favorites to create a playful, satisfying romp.

Bringing the bard into a modern setting can be tricky, whether on stage or screen, and admittedly, it does take a few minutes to get used to hearing “by my troth” being bandied about a stylish kitchen. Hang in, and it won’t take long for you to fall for Whedon’s ensemble.

The wordplay is frenetic, some of the most clever Shakespeare produced, but there are also very funny stretches that rely heavily on physical comedy. The cast delivers with a gleeful enthusiasm, and Whedon adds amusing touches such as having one pivotal scene set amid snorkeling, giving it a new, Wes Anderson-esque hilarity.

Amy Acker (TV’s Angel, The Cabin in the Woods) and Alexis Denisof (Angel/The Avengers) shine as the adversarial would-be lovers Beatrice and Benedict, while Nathan Fillion (Serenity) nearly steals the movie as the easily offended inspector Dogberry. These actors, like nearly all in the cast, have a history with Whedon, and the mutual comfort level gives the entire adaptation a breezy, confident feel.

Artfully filming in black and white, Whedon doesn’t shrink from the play’s dark corners while giving the wonderfully comedic aspects a new, updated energy.

Turns out, Shakespeare fits Whedon about as well as Thor’s hammer or Sheriff Woody’s boots.

 

Verdict-4-0-Stars

 

 

 

 

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Marling Heads in Interesting Directions

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The East

by Hope Madden

If we’re honest, I think we are all either secretly impressed by and quietly frightened of Anonymous, or we’re openly impressed by and quietly frightened of them. I personally haven’t done much to draw their ire – I haven’t rigged an election, abused a teen, or even misused Wikipedia for my own malicious gain. Yes, I broke into my neighbor’s house when I was 8 and stole a bunch of Barbie clothes. It’s true – they might come for me for that! But you don’t have to be a potential target to worry over unchecked power, no matter how much genuine good a group does.

That conflict is the heartbeat of Brit Marling’s new film The East.

Marling is a filmmaker to watch. She’s co-scripted three films in which she’s starred, each offering an intimate, thoughtful, refreshingly off-kilter perspective.

In this work, Marling plays Sarah, an undercover agent working for a corporate counter terrorism firm. She combats terrorists combating big business. In her first assignment, she infiltrates the anarchist collective The East, a group using an “eye for an eye” approach to retaliate against eco-destructive corporate greed.

Early on, the film feels sometimes lazily scripted, as happenstance and coincidence play too large a role in Sarah’s investigation. But the film mostly overcomes these faults. Co-writer/director Zal Batmanglij builds tension well, and – as is often the case with Marling’s work – the film is not taking you exactly where you think it is.

Marling’s finest performance has been as the guru at the center of Sound of My Voice – also co-scripted and directed by Batmanglij – but she hasn’t yet disappointed. Here she possesses a veneer of calm that makes the inner conflict that much more provocative.

It helps that she’s joined by such a strong cast. Playing Sarah’s mentor, Patricia Clarkson is exquisite, as always. Ellen Page plays against type and succeeds, and Alexander Skarsgard shines, as well, in a tough role that requires him to be at once admirable and despicable.

The East is a finely tuned thriller with a thoughtful story to tell. What looks at first like heavy-handed liberalism morphs into  moral ambiguity by the second act, but Marling’s not done yet. She makes some interesting choices, and as this film points out, the choice is always there to make.

Verdict-3-5-Stars

 

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Because After Midnight, They’re Gonna Let It All Hang Down

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Before Midnight

by Hope Madden

The third installment of what may be the most understated trilogy in cinematic history, Before Midnight catches up with Jesse (Ethan Hawke) and Celine (Julie Delpy) – American writer and French muse – almost twenty years after their first meeting on that train.

Those two romantic kids Richard Linklater followed around Vienna back in 1994’s Before Sunrise, then again through Paris in 2004’s Before Sunset, are now a timeworn couple with kids on vacation in Greece. If nothing else, the pair does visit lovely spots.

For all the similarities in the three films, though, Linklater and his two leads/co-writers take the story in a very natural yet risky direction. The first two installments are among the most unabashedly romantic indie films ever made.

Before Midnight, on the other hand, is far more of a meditation on relationships – the compromises, selfishness, joys, tedium. This is untrod ground in Hollywood, where films find inspiration in either the beginning or the end of a romance. That long slog in the middle, though, that’s hidden from view.

As Celine and Jesse struggle with the consequences of their youthful decisions and wrestle against the weight of middle age, they take some time to examine their lives, flaws and desires. They talk it out.

This is certainly the talkiest film released this weekend, as it relies entirely on conversation to tell its story. There are times when the dialogue feels self-serving. At other times, it gives the film too pretentious an air. On the whole, though, these characters are recognizable in a way that is rarely achieved in film.

Delpy’s performance is particularly courageous, as she’s willing to be unlikeable in the way we all are when we’re feeling particularly bitter and put-upon. Hawke equals her performance, allowing Jesse’s entire demeanor to change in relation to Celine’s mood; after years together, he can predict what’s coming and maneuver to calm the storm. Their unerring take on couplehood is often unsettling, and it brings authenticity to every scene.

Warts and all, Before Midnight is a sort of miracle. It revisits beloved characters with subversive honesty, embraces mid-life without pretending it to be something other than what it is, and finds value in the struggle to remain inspired by your own love.

Verdict-4-0-Stars

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What – No Solomon Grundy?

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Man of Steel

by Hope Madden

Ever since Christopher Nolan’s smashing success rebooting Batman, a stripped down, gritty Superman seemed to be in the cards. But is it possible to Nolanize Superman?

Nolan produces and gets a story credit for Man of Steel, but unlike the flawed, oh-so-human Batman, Superman is hard to really care about because he isn’t human at all. He’s perfect. He’s God, basically. You can’t relate to him.

But Nolan, script writer David S. Goyer, and director Zack Snyder decide to just embrace those messianic qualities and see where that gets them. Hell, they even set the granite jawed hero in a church, a stained glass Savior over his shoulder. But in deciding to emphasize his perfect nature, they keep the audience from relating to him.

To keep fans happy, Snyder squeezes in all the necessary elements. Some, however – the Daily Planet, Lex Luthor, Metropolis, even the name Superman – get little more than a fly-by. He’s more interested in following the farm boy who was really an alien, and watching him struggle to uncover his identity and purpose.

Henry Cavill dons the red cape this time around, looking either rugged and outdoorsy (Clark Kent) or crisply matinee idol-esque (Kal-El). He looks good either way, but all he’s really asked to do as an actor is look good, exacerbating the distance between the character and the audience. For actual acting, Snyder has the rest of the cast.

The always reliable Amy Adams gives Lois Lane a much needed modernization, while Russell Crowe classes up the joint as Supe’s natural father.

A wondrously apoplectic Michael Shannon is on hand to inspire awe as the villainous General Zod. He’s after Supe because of an utterly preposterous piece of lazy screenwriting … I mean, a gift the boy took with him from Krypton. And Zod will exterminate the entire human race to get it. Well, he’ll probably exterminate us all anyway, but first things first.

Snyder and Goyer – who, incidentally, co-wrote the Dark Knight trilogy – balance the SciFi nonsense with a lot of superficial political jabs and even more comic book nerd nods. (Check the lettering on that satellite.) It’s all part and parcel of their mishmash approach, which works as often as it doesn’t, surprisingly. Unfortunately, they let the pacing bog here and there, and go into Wham! Bap! Zonk! overkill in the climax.

It’s a fresh take on the stale classic, but Snyder’s no Nolan, and Superman’s no Batman.

Verdict-3-0-Stars