So that happened: Wahoo Woes

By Hope Madden

It is officially baseball season. As a Cleveland Indians fan, I know that this will likely mean pessimism followed by spurts of joy and confidence, crushed mid-season and turned to heartbreak. (The difference between being a Tribe fan and a fan of any other Cleveland team is that tiny glimpse of optimism and joy.)

I can remember when those positive feelings followed the whole season long. Hell, I can remember when we did well season after season. Sigh. Now it’s mostly heartache and embarrassment, and sometimes it doesn’t even have to be baseball season.

Like, say, that time years ago when I visited my dad in Alabama. He’d arranged for me to meet up with his friend Randy Trailwalker one afternoon.

Randy made a living selling handmade goods at pow wows around Alabama and neighboring states. My dad had promised my son Riley I’d bring him back one of Randy’s coolest items. Dad thought Riley would be excited.

He was correct – Riley, then about 7, wanted a dreamcatcher.

I welcomed the chance to escape Dad’s place for an afternoon. I’m not saying I’d grown tired of the Game Show network or anything. I can watch Match Game episodes from 1960s at top volume all day long. But a few Gene Rayburn-free hours to talk at normal volume and peruse handmade arts sounded great.

Randy was awesome – incredibly nice and eager not to sell me ready-made gifts, but to teach me how to make them so I could teach Riley to make his own. Fun!

I made a dreamcatcher and I did not suck at it. We used really nice materials – turkey feathers, handmade beads, assorted groovy whatnot. Randy patiently walked me through the steps, then bagged up identical materials so Riley could make his own. Then we made a bravery bracelet, and bagged materials up for Riley. We also made some kind of fantastic necklace. Basically, I got carried away before I thought about price.

Randy insisted on taking no payment because he was so fond of my dad. I’d been warned this would happen, and my dad made me promise not to take advantage of his friend and to insist even more strongly that he accept payment. Which I was prepared to do. Sort of.

Randy was not about to tell me how much all this was worth, but even a dimwit like myself realized we’d far outreached the $20 I’d brought along. I decided to quietly leave a check behind.

Classy, right?

Then I remembered.

I have Cleveland Indians checks. Big ol’ smiling Wahoo face right in the center.

It really does sometimes feel like a curse.

For Your Queue: Soy Sauce and Bug Powder

Slim pickin’s in the new release category this week, but if you feel like getting really high, we have a couple of options for you.

John Dies at the End tells the mind-bent tale of a couple slacker vigilantes hunting the supernatural. Dave (Chase Williamson) tells viewers how the twosome came to “handle unusual problems,” and the story he spills comes together in shades of Cronenberg, Burroughs, and Phillip K. Dick, spun with the sensibilities of Sam Raimi circa Evil Dead. That, friends, is good company. And though director Don Coscarelli (best known for Phantasm, but personally beloved for Bubba Ho-Tep) can’t keep the trippy logic afloat for the whole running time, its “whatevs” style of clever remains surprisingly enjoyable.

As long as we’re breaking the time-space continuum, let’s hit 1991 and the David Cronenberg film so frequently referenced in John Dies: Naked Lunch. Bill Lee’s a kind of an investigator, a writer, and, of course, an exterminator. Warped, beautiful and repellant, Cronenberg’s take on the William S. Burroughs classic is a SciFi adventure into Interzone where sex, writer’s block, addiction, guilt, transformation, and bug powder mesh gloriously.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LxYxiVfNk6M

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dtflS5wCbjw

Outtakes: New Fangs for Old Vampire

By Hope Madden

The coolest vampire – and among the first – ever to grace the big screen gets a makeover this weekend, courtesy of composer Andrew Alden, and you can check it out at the Gateway Film Center (1551 N. High St.). At 2pm and 8pm Friday, March 29, Alden and his band The Andrew Alden Ensemble will perform a live accompaniment to F. W. Murnau’s magnificent silent film Nosferatu (1922).

An adaptation of Dracula, Nosferatu follows a vampire count as he sets his sights on a fair maid, relocating from his far off castle to a bustling European city and leaving blood drained corpses in his wake.

The film remains a horror mainstay for two reasons. Murnau’s immaculate direction was so far ahead of its time, wasting no shots and creating an atmosphere unseen at the time, that his film still feels relevant and fresh today. More importantly, he cast the bald, ratlike Max Schreck as the count, and in his bony hands, the creepiest vampire of all time came to be.

Andrew Alden agrees, and the 23-year-old composer felt inspired to use the story and Murnau’s undiluted vision to create a new musical accompaniment.

“I’m a huge fan of Nosferatu,” he says. “I watched it as a teenager, in the middle of the night watching terror classic movies. I was frightened and I thought it was wonderful. It’s just a great vampire movie, not like any vampire movie of today. “

Years later, studying music at Boston’s Berklee School of Music, an idea began to take root.

“I always loved movies, and I remember a light bulb going off,” he says. “I thought, why don’t I make my musical language take the form of the stories of these movies? I’ll take my music and, instead of using a story I come up with, I’ll use the story of the movie itself.”

Looking for a film in the public domain, Alden began his experiment with George Romero’s 1968 zombie classic Night of the Living Dead. Composing a new score to match the film took him about two months.

“I find I’m getting faster,” Alden says. “Nosferatu was particularly easy because it seems as though F. W. Murnau really thought everything out. Not too many shots seem like filler. Everything is driving the plot forward. The music was really easy to write.”

His contemporary chamber music ensemble, consisting of violin, viola, electric guitar, drums, piano, synthesizer and assorted other percussion, tours the country with five films Alden has scored. Along with Nosferatu and Night of the Living Dead, his band accompanies Phantom of the Opera (1925), The Lost World (1925), and Battleship Potemkin (1925).

“Even though we do five movies, I think the favorite is Nosferatu,” he says. “because the movie’s so great.”

Tickets for the Friday matinee run $10 in advance or $15 at the door, while the 8pm screening are $15 in advance and $20 at the door.

Originally published by Columbus Underground

Outtakes: Homegrown Actor Gone Wrong

By Hope Madden

Wildly original filmmaker Quentin Dupieux’s newest “no reason” film Wrong opens in Columbus this weekend. The director’s feature debut, Rubber, depicted a car tire on a murderous rampage.

I’ll pause and let that settle in for a second.

Dupieux’s laid back, loony style finds a slightly more accessible form in his latest effort. Wrong is a languidly paced, surreal comedy that follows mustachioed Dolph Springer (Columbus native Jack Plotnick) as he searches for his missing dog, Paul.

It seems straightforward enough, but rest assured, you have no idea where this is going. Importantly, Dupieux seems to.

“Quentin strikes a really interesting tone in this movie,” says Plotnick, who took a few minutes this week to speak with Columbus Underground about his new film.

The two had worked together previously on Rubber, which led to the second collaboration.

“He wrote the role in Wrong for me,” he says. “It was such a gift, and I was so touched and moved and excited.”

“He didn’t want me to feel that I needed to do the schtick I often do in some sitcom or Disney kids’ show. He wanted me to keep it very real,” he says. “And the funny thing is that the absurdity is so much clearer when people are treating it as though it’s really happening.”

While Wrong is certainly bizarre, Plotnick sees a lot of differences in the two films. “There are no exploding heads,” he laughs. “But there is a machine that can read the memory of a dog turd. It’s definitely off the wall, but in very thoughtful, absurdist way.”

Plotnick credits Dupieux’s craftsmanship as the reason his films are so strangely powerful. The filmmaker writes, directs, edits, often scores and photographs his own films.

“He’s his own DP (director of photography), and he’s a fantastic artist with a camera,” says Plotnick. “What I love about Quentin is that he loves breaking the rules of cinema, and this movie really does that. It’s liberating and refreshing, and I’m glad that audiences are catching onto it.”

The actor has been busy since Wrong wrapped, filming another indie, shooting another spot of his recurring role on The Mentalist, and even writing and directing his own movie.

“The big thing in my life is that I’ve directed my first feature film,” he says of Space Station ‘76. “It’s a SciFi dramedy that takes place in the future as we had imagined it in the 1970s, and it stars – this is the amazing thing –  Patrick Wilson, Liv Tyler, Matt Bomer and Jerry O’Connell. And I could not be happier with how it came out.”

Space Station ’76 will premier next year at the Sundance Film Festival. In the meantime, you can catch Plotnick in his quest to find his dog this weekend at the Gateway Film Center. And while Plotnick won’t be able to get back to Columbus himself this weekend to see the movie, he’ll be represented.

“My sister’s actually bringing like 20 people there for opening night.”

 

Originally published on Columbus Underground

 

 

No shirtlessness, no sparkling skin, same old story

By Hope Madden

A young girl, plunged into a supernatural adventure, is torn between the abiding love of two handsome, upstanding, oddly respectful young men. Whom will she choose?

Nope, this one is The Host, the newest effort by Twilight author Stephanie Meyer, who clearly has a one-track mind.

The earth has long been occupied by an alien race of Invasion of the Body Snatcher-style parasites. (Except these aliens are pretty, glowy guys, so expect a far softer ending. Indeed, expect an ending so soft, so convenient that it undoes any amount of credibility the film struggles to create.)

When Melanie (Saiorse Ronin), one of the few remaining humans, is captured, her will to live and be herself makes it difficult for her alien parasite Wanderer to take her body over completely. Now the two battle it out over control of the body, as well as dating decisions.

Both crushes (Max Irons, Jake Abel) keep their shirts on – just one of the ways director Andrew Niccol finds to tell a more understated, less creepy version of basically the same story as Meyer’s unforgivably popular Twilight.

Another huge difference – the great Saiorse Ronin stars. Perhaps you think it’s a bit premature to call a 19-year-old great. You are incorrect. Ronin is a phenomenal talent, and while The Host may not be her best effort, she is certainly superior to the material.

Most of the film consists of Ronin (in voice over) fighting with Ronin (in the flesh), as she plays two characters trapped in the same body. The performer possesses a calm control that grounds not only her performance, but the film itself, elevating the silliness to something surprisingly watchable. (I’m not going to lie, you’re better off just renting Hanna again.)

While Ronin helps to make the content palatable by sheer force of talent, Niccol can’t manage the same. His film plods ever onward, often filling the screen with beautiful images, but never finding any forward momentum. Trimming 30 minutes from his 125 minute run time would have helped a great deal.

But then, we’d have been spared some of the bludgeoning of Meyer’s wisdoms aimed at today’s young women. What can we learn? You must fight to be who you are, girls! Also, prejudice is bad. And violence – violence is bad.

And, of course, wouldn’t it be exciting if two hot boys wanted to kiss you at the same time?

2 stars (out of 5)

Wait a minute – Kristen Stewart can act?

By Hope Madden

It is hard to believe Jack Kerouac’s seminal buddy adventure On the Road has not been made into a film before now. It makes sense that director Walter Salles was the filmmaker to finally tackle it, since his The Motorcycle Diaries was sort of Che Guevara’s version of the same existential, cross-continental, life-defining trip. For Road’s Sal Paradise (the author’s alter ego), though, this trip ended in the birth of America’s Beat Generation (as opposed to Latin America’s interest in Communism). But still, you know, important stuff.

Paradise (Sam Riley), of course, strikes up a bond with enigmatic wild man Dean Moriarty, played by Tron: Legacy’s Garrett Hedlund and based on Kerouac’s buddy Neal Cassady. The rest of the tale sees the author outlining the interweaving lives, intimacies and inspirations of the various Beat writers, changing their names without truly concealing their identities.

While the entire cast has big shoes to fill, Hedlund is most challenged. Moriarty/Cassady presents a larger than life character to try to portray. Both Hunter S. Thompson (in Hell’s Angels) and Charles Bukowski (in Notes of a Dirty Old Man) depicted Cassady as a tragically beautiful, untamed spirit. Take note: if Bukowski and Thompson think you are wild…you, sir, are the real deal.

Hedlund strikes a nice pose, but he hasn’t the guts to pull the character off. High energy, good looking, a little damaged, but hardly the magnetic force of nature that inspired so many writers.

Riley fares a bit better as the artistically needy Paradise, and Twilight’s Kristen Stewart surprises the shit out of everyone by doing a fine job as young sexpot Marylou.

They’re joined by a host of excellent cameos, including Viggo Mortensen as Old Bull Lee (based on William S. Burroughs), and an especially nutty Amy Adams as his wife Jane (based on Joan Vollmer).

Salles makes the most of the cast he’s got, and his poetic way with a camera saturates the picture with a lovely, nostalgic quality. He mixes in frenetic party scenes, fluid road sequences, and enough  bongo and snare to remind us we are witnessing the birth of the beat. Still, having inspired countless other adventures, On the Road doesn’t feel too fresh, and Salles can’t uncover the vitality that fueled this landmark road trip in the first place.

He has crafted a very pretty film, competently assembled and pleasantly performed. Really, On the Road should amount to more than that.

3 stars (out of 5)

Needs More G.I. Joementum

 

by George Wolf

 

At the risk of sounding too much like Grandpa Simpson…In my day G.I. Joe had Kung Fu grip and that was all and we liked it!

Before G.I. Joe:  Retaliation started to roll, Hope asked me if I knew any of the characters besides good old Joe. Since the long ago days when I played with the action figures, it seems there was a cartoon and one previous movie. Though I was vaguely  aware of 2009’s The Rise of Cobra, I have to admit I didn’t know Cobra Commander from Cobra Kai. Sweep the leg!

The point is, this G.I. Joe sequel is ridiculously bad, only redeemed by one sweet mountainside action sequence and the curious moments where it seems to know how bad it is and lets some self-aware humor sneak in.

If lines such as “Soon the world will bow down to Zues,” and “Storm Shadow, tell us Zartan’s plans or die!” sound more suited for Saturday-morning fare, A) you’re correct and B) you’ll be disappointed to learn this dreck was written by Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick. These guys wrote the sublime Zombieland, and knowing that hurts my heart.

Director Jon M. Chu brings a resume loaded with the Step Up movies and a Justin Beiber concert film, which makes perfect sense. Retaliation sports the volume, pace, and emotional depth of a frenetic music video.

Oh, there’s Dwayne Johnson and Bruce Willis, finally deciding to team up since they’re in every other movie anyway. Johnson flexes well and makes sure the Under Armour logo gets screentime, while Willis lands some good one liners, especially when he insists on calling the female Joe “Brenda” even though her name is Jaye. And ladies, you get Channing Tatum (with a fake facial scar – rugged!) for a full 9 or 10 minutes!

Most of Retaliation truly seems aimed at kids, with just enough silly narrative and sophomoric exposition to keep things moving from one scene of extreme bloodless violence to the next. Then, just to throw the adults a funny bone, a joke about taxes or North Korea comes flying in from left field.

The biggest joke, though, was on me, as I actually stayed through the credits thinking there might be an extra scene.

2 stars (out of 5)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bSX2oxLdcWA

So, So Wrong

By Hope Madden

Quentin Dupieux’s feature film debut Rubber offered a character study, of sorts. The film took the point of view of a discarded car tire on a murderous rampage.

Huh.

Wrong, his follow up effort, seems more straightforward: Dolph Springer (Columbus native Jack Plotnick, wonderful) has lost his dog, Paul. He wants to find him.

How might he find him? Perhaps with the help of a machine that reads the memories of dog shit.

The important thing to understand is that you’re not likely to understand what’s going on, and that’s OK. Dupieux does. Everything in every shot has been expertly placed to heighten both the sense of suburban familiarity as well as the feeling that all things here are askew.

It’s this level of utterly nonsensical lived-in logic that elevates Wrong far above spoof or satire, to a true place of artful absurdism.

Plotnick, as the audience’s vehicle through this madness, strikes the perfect balance between the regular Joe baffled by the insanity around him, and a willing participant. His understated, tender performance allows the weirdness to blossom around him without overtaking the character. He just wants to find his dog, dammit, and therefore, we do, too. Oh, Paul!

Not every piece of lunacy works. A love interest side story begins brilliantly, but as the tale spins onward, it creates an separate, less interesting but equally nonsensical narrative. One of these wildly spinning yarns is enough to keep track of, and Dolph and his dog are far more intriguing than not-Dolph and his girlfriend and that guy that keeps half painting cars.

I’m sorry, what?

Misfires aside, some elements (the opening sequence, in particular) are genius. Most of the characters – especially one cop character, played with fantastic zeal by Mark Burnham – are endlessly fascinating and could conceivably carry a film all their own. (Indeed, the spinoff Wrong Cops, starring Burnham, is Dupieux’s next film to be released.)

But there is no denying the enigmatic pull of this film. It’s as beautiful as it is odd, and Plotnick’s carries the lunacy so beautifully that you can’t look away.

The film may not suit everybody’s taste. It’s a comedy, and a funny one, but it casts a spell more than it tells a tale.  Still, there are absolutely no other films out there like those being made by Quentin Dupieux, which is reason enough to give Wrong a try.

3 1/2 stars (out of 5)

Don’t Expect a Happy Ending

By George Wolf

 

The Gatekeepers, a 2012 Oscar nominee for Best Documentary, finally debuts in Columbus this weekend, and it proves to be a fascinating, informative, and often frustrating take on the complex state of world affairs.

Israeli director Dror Moreh presents the first ever interviews with the six surviving former heads of Shin Bet, Israel’s intelligence agency. Through their frank recollections and candid revelations, we not only get valuable history lessons, but sobering reminders of how these lessons apply to today’s headlines.

As you might guess, at the heart of the film is the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, and Moreh traces it as far back as the Six Day War of 1967, when Israeli forces conquered Syria, Jordan and Egypt. Though tensions go back much further, the case is made that it is around this time that Shin Bet began to focus on what were, in their view, terrorist attacks against Israel.

The smart bomb strikes depicted in Syriana and the intense manhunts of Zero Dark Thirty come to life through stunning archival footage and the occasional reenactment. This blood is real, and the rationale for spilling it becomes clouded as the former Shin Bet leaders open up about what they’ve learned.

Moreh doesn’t pass any judgements on why the men finally agreed to talk, but it isn’t hard to draw your own conclusions.

Telling phrases such as “One man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter” give you a glimpse into the souls of men who have come to doubt the very philosophies they once risked their lives for.

Though it does get a bit dry toward the end, much of the film is nothing short of riveting. The men, after all they’ve seen, do seem to favor the “separate state” solution, but there are no easy answers provided and no happy endings expected.

Instead, we are left with an air of tragic futility as The Gatekeepers, even coming as it does from a distinctly one-sided perspective, courageously questions allegiances, motives, and history itself.

 

Verdict-4-0-Stars

 

 

For Your Queue: Mumblecore Madness

If you’re a fan of the “mumblecore” then A) we’ll just call you “Mumble Cory” and B) a film you might have missed in its limited run is now on DVD, and we’ll pair it with one of the best of the mumblecore genre.

The Comedy is a character study about a character you will instantly hate. Swanson (terrifically played by Tim & Eric’s Tim Heidecker) is a trust-fund brat who spends his days drinking, boating, and embracing every chance to be offensive. Make it past the halfway point, and the ironically-titled film becomes strangely hypnotic.

Director/co-writer Rick Alverson is after a sort of subversive honesty, perhaps even grasping for answers to the types of questions raised whenever another white male goes on a shooting spree.

Hanging out with a guy like Swanson for 90 minutes isn’t easy, but you might be glad you made the effort.

If you’re looking for something slightly more accessible, Cyrus (2010) might the film for you. Still clearly a mumblecore flick (written and directed by the auteurs of the style, Mark and Jay Duplass), the film still follows a relatively well-established story arc and stars actors who actually act. John C. Reilly wants to date Marisa Tomei (who doesn’t?), but her relationship with her adult son (Jonah Hill, in a triumphant performance) is beyond complicated. One profoundly uncomfortable comedy follows.

 

Hope Madden and George Wolf … get it?