MY BLOODY VALENTINE 3-D (2009 - HORROR REMAKE) *** out of *****
(Holy shit!!! That pick-axe actually flew out of the screen! Or maybe I shouldn't drink so much vodka before going to the movies....)
CAST: Jensen Ackles, Jamie King, Kerr Smith, Tom Atkins, Betsy Rue, Megan Boone, Kennth Tighe, Edi Gathegi.
DIRECTOR: Patrick Lussier
WARNING: Minimal SPOILERS and flying pick-axes - straight ahead...
By the mid-80's, the slasher genre which had roared to life with the success of HALLOWEEN in 1978, was starting to sputter like my first car. Weakened by too many substandard entries, and hampered by too few successes like A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET, the genre was in a steep decline. Eventually, it would flame out completely - and remain pitch-dark until 1996, when SCREAM re-ignited the genre with a vengeance. I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER, SCREAM 2, I STILL KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER, and URBAN LEGEND soon followed and were all bonafide hits. It appeared as if the slasher genre had been revived.
Unfortunately, as with the earlier wave of slasher films, the films started to wear out their welcome. By the time URBAN LEGENDS: THE FINAL CUT and VALENTINE were released at the beginning of the decade, the box-office wasn't being set on fire by them the way SCREAM and the earlier post-modern slashers did. But just when it appeared that the slasher genre was dying yet again, some genius decided to kick it up a notch - and start remaking the classic slashers.
Soon, remakes of HALLOWEEN, PROM NIGHT, HALLOWEEN 2, and BLACK CHRISTMAS were terrorizing the mutliplexes. With the exception of the BLACK CHRISTMAS remake, most of these "re-imaginings" fared well at the box-office. With the back catalog being so ruthlessly plundered, it was only a matter of time before the "remake scavengers" would find another slasher film truly worthy of remaking, er, re-imagining. Yes, folks, I am talking about that slasher flick which has special place in my, uh, heart: MY BLOODY VALENTINE.
Basically using the original film's framework of a tragic mining accident triggering a subsequent murder spree, the remake doesn't diverge too far from the previous plot. What it does different, of course, is the 3-D angle. This means a lot of chase scenes and attack sequences with characters running at the camera or weapons being jabbed at you. Fortunately, the sequences are all suspenseful and well-executed, and you don't mind the gimmicks. The movie also plays just as well in 2-D, by the way.
As with the original, a love triangle anchors the film. And like before, it's between old friends Tom Hanniger (Jensen Ackles) and Axel Palmer (Kerr Smith), and the woman they both love, Sarah (Jamie King). Tom has come home to try to face his demons - and sell the family business which just happens to be the mine. Turns out there are some people that will do anything to keep this from happening. And when the murders begin anew, so do the questions. Is the killer Harry Warden, sole survivor of the mining accident? Is it one of the townspeople who wants to stop Tom from selling the mine? Or someone else?
Find out for yourself. But don't forget your 3-D glasses. And watch out for that pick-axe!
BUT, SERIOUSLY: While the original MY BLOODY VALENTINE was chock-heavy with atmosphere and moved at a brooding pace that accentuated the dread, the remake is far more kinetic and propulsive. This isn't a bad thing, as we get a lot of chase scenes that are edge-of-your-seat caliber. Indeed, one of the things I wished the original did more was show the killer miner going after more people in extended chase scenes. We get that there.
The cast takes the material seriously, which helps a long way in building and maintaining suspense. Jensen Ackles is merely okay as the hero, but this is made up for by the soulful Jamie King as Sarah. As with Lori Hallier from the original, King makes a compelling heroine whom you are firmly on the side of. She ably suggests the internal conflict over the men in her life, and the external terror over the murders. It's a fairly layered character she plays, and King pulls it off. As for the third point of the triangle, Kerr Smith as Axel is a good blend of authority, decency, and intensity - and he more than makes up for Ackles's somewhat low-key presence. The rest of the cast is competent and, as with the three leads, approach their various roles with conviction.
Bottom line: MY BLOODY VALENTINE 3-D is an above-average remake of an above-average slasher film. While the original was more of a moody, slow-building type of horror film, the remake is a more twisty, adrenaline-charged thriller ride that gets your blood going. They have different strengths, but both work well in their own ways.
MY BLOODY VALENTINE (1981 - HORROR) *** out of *****
(You'll never open a Valentine's Candy box without hesitating ever again.)
CAST: Paul Kelman, Lori Hallier, Neil Affleck, Keith Knight, Alf Humphreys, Cynthia Dale, Helen Udy, Carl Marotte, Don Francks, Larry Richards, Patricia Hamilton.
DIRECTOR: George Mihalka
WARNING: Some SPOILERS and lots of Valentine's Day desecration right up ahead...
In 1978, an independent low-budget film titled HALLOWEEN became a huge box-office smash, grossing something to the tune of $45 million, which - given HALLOWEEN's miniscule budget - was practically an AVATAR-level achievement. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating slightly, but it was still a huge deal. Especially for a film that everyone was sure would tank, given its rather hoary premise of three babysitters terrorized by an escaped mental patient on the titular holiday.
All that by way of saying that HALLOWEEN's unexpected success basically spawned the Slasher genre as we know it. Sure, Alfred Hitchcock planted the first seeds in 1960 with PSYCHO, and his Italian equivalent, Dario Argento, further stoked the fires with his own baroque and artful thrillers like DEEP RED (1975) and THE BIRD WITH THE CRYSTAL PLUMAGE (1970). Canadian director Bob Clark also laid more groundwork with the brilliant BLACK CHRISTMAS (1974).
The fact remains, however, that it was HALLOWEEN that set the slasher-movie tropes which would be imitated repeatedly: (1) a masked killer terrorizing (2) a group of teens/college students who are (3) partying in some isolated location during (4) a significant event or holiday, and who (5) get killed one-by-one in often gruesome fashion, until (6) only one character - usually a girl - is left to battle the killer.
These films had lovely titles like PROM NIGHT, THE BURNING, FRIDAY THE 13th, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME, THE PROWLER, FINAL EXAM, MADMAN, THE DORM THAT DRIPPED BLOOD, TERROR TRAIN, NEW YEAR'S EVIL, VISITING HOURS, and CURTAINS - to name just a few. Most of these films were decent, but only one or two were good enough to even stand in HALLOWEEN's immediate proximity. One of those films is MY BLOODY VALENTINE.
Taking place in the isolated mining town of Valentine's Bluff (seriously - the town is called that), the story involves a tragedy that caused the town to stop celebrating the holiday for 20 years. If you're wondering what the hell could be so bad that such a tiny community would give up some solid potential revenue, allow me to regal you with the saga: see, on Valentine's Night 1960, two irresponsible mining supervisors were in such a rush to get to the annual Valentine's dance that they deliberately left behind half-a-dozen miners still working in the tunnels below. An accident occurred, causing a cave-in that buried the poor sods. Ooops.
After weeks of trying to dig through, the rescuers finally broke through to the men. What they find is enough to make you switch to mixed greens for the rest of your life: only one man survived, and he did so only by - here's the lovely part - eating his buddies. Right, then. Would anyone care for a second helping of Hamburger Helper? Anyway, the man's name was Harry Warden - and he promptly went nuts and was committed. But not for loooooooong...
The following year, Harry Warden did the following: (1) escaped from the asylum, (2) put on his old mining garb complete with helmet and lamp, (3) visited the two surpervisors, and (4) ripped their hearts out and (5) placed them in Valentine's Candy boxes, with a (6) warning to the townspeople to never - ever, ever, ever - have another Valentine's Day dance. Otherwise, he'll come back and make like Darth Vader infected by the rage virus from 28 DAYS LATER. Needless to say, the townspeople politely agree.
Flash forward to the present, which is 1981. Evidently, the townspeople of Valentine's Bluff have grown the cojones to start planning the first Valentine's Day dance in 20 years. Either they think that: (1) Harry Warden is dead and buried and is no longer a concern, or (2) they think he is still alive but have a death wish, or (3) they all got really stoned one night and completely forgot about the mining cave-in and the subsequent killing spree and Harry's deadly warning. If the latter is the case, they're about to get a reminder. Yes, sir...
Sure enough, a vicious killer in a miner's helmet and suit starts decimating the townspeople. The first victim is some hot blonde chick who gets shoved into the business end of a pickaxe. The second victim is the organizer of the dance, Mabel Osborne (Patricia Hamilton), who gets her cavalier ass tossed into a dryer on high heat for defying Harry's ultimatum.
These two incidents are enough to make Chief Newby (Don Francks) turn to Mayor Hanniger (Larry Richards) and go: "Dude, this reminds of that shit from, like, twenty years ago when that one dude got stuck in the mine and ate all those other dudes, then killed those two dudes with a pickaxe, cut out their hearts and stuck 'em in a box, and then warned us not to hold another Valentine's Day dance ever again, or else he would totally... Oh. Fuck."
Long story short, Dumb and Dumber decide to, ahem, cancel the dance - but they don't say it's because of Harry Warden. They say that Mabel had a heart attack (uh, I guess you could say that) and it would be disrespectful to continue with the festivities. Yup, they decide to keep the murders under wraps, for fear of "starting a panic." I guess it's better to leave the populace in the dark about the pickaxe-wielding psycho miner lurking among them. All the better to cause more murders, you know? If you're starting to think that Chief Newby got his training from the same academy that matriculated Barney Fife, don't worry - he did. Good news for unintentional comedy. Bad news for the good citizens of Valentine's Bluff.
Naturally, the young folk of Valentine's Bluff don't take kindly to either the dance being cancelled - or the Chief's lame-ass explanation for it. So, being young and willful, they do what young and willful kids do the world over when specifically told not to do something: they fucking do it, anyway. If you're thinking that the dumb-asses go ahead and have their Valentine's Dance, but in secret, then you clearly have had to put up with a few of them in your time.
Needless to say, this is a supremely bad idea. You don't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out that Harry Warden is going to crash the party and make mincemeat out of most of the guests. The "who's-who" of the walking dead are: (1) T.J. (Paul Kelman), brooding and sexy prodigal son recently returned to Valentine's Bluff after not making it on "the West Coast"; (2) Sarah (Lori Hallier), winsome and sweet blond chick who is torn between T.J. and (3) Axel (Neil Affleck), surly blonde guy who looks like Aaron Eckhart's hick cousin; (4) Hollis (Keith Knight), fat bastard who has an inexplicably hot girlfriend named (5) Patti (Cynthia Dale), who is obviously psychic because right before the party she says, "My dress is cut down to here! Slit up to there! I may not get out alive!"; (6) John (Rob Stein), a pal of T.J and Axel's who is, uh, hung like a horse; (7) Sylvia (Helene Udy), a petite chick who is after John because of, um, obvious reasons, and (8) Howard (Alf Humphreys), the kind of dumb shit who is neither cute enough nor funny enough nor smart enough to get away with the pranks he's constantly pulling. Needless to say, he dies - painfully. As well he should.
Anyhow, there are others who also get targeted by our pickaxe-friendly killer, but the above 8 folks are the main players. Who among them will live? Who will get skewered? Who is wielding the pickaxe? Is it Harry Warden? Or someone else from the past? Or from the present? Is Neil Affleck really Ben Affleck's love child with Aaron Eckhart? Why do I find that strangely erotic? Do I need help?
Find out if you dare...
BUT, SERIOUSLY: While it's no HALLOWEEN, MY BLOODY VALENTINE comes with a whole attitude and atmosphere all its own. The script cleverly tweaks some of the standard slasher tropes - and makes them almost fresh. For example, instead of suburban teenagers or sophisticated college students, our main characters (and victims) are blue-collar workers who look to be in their mid-20's - at least.
Also effective is the bleak small-town atmosphere hanging over the proceedings. If I lived in that town, I'd get the hell out just like T.J. did. It also helps that MY BLOODY VALENTINE was obviously not filmed in a studio or anywhere in California. The settings feel authentic and look real, evoking the true ambiance of a humble, anonymous, northern mining town. This distinctive flavor sets the film apart from many others in the genre.
As far as the cast, they are all believable as imperiled victims - with each of them turning in reasonably vivid performances. The standout is Lori Hallier as Sarah. She makes for an engaging heroine - both strong and human at the same time. The likability of the cast is key in many of the scares. We become reasonably involved with them to the point that we don't want them to cross paths with the psycho miner. One sequence in particular near the end, involving a chase through the mine along moving rail cars, is particularly harrowing and rivals anything in HALLOWEEN.
In the end, MY BLOODY VALENTINE is more than a HALLOWEEN-ripoff because it bravely tries to tweak some of the slasher conventions in an effort to produce something that's, at least, a little different - but still a lot scary. It succeeds.
THE GRUDGE (2004 - HORROR REMAKE) ****1/2 out of *****
(Here's a thought, jackasses: leave the fucking house. What's that you say? That won't do any good? Because the ghosts will just follow you to the ends of the Earth? And kill you there? Sorry. Never mind...)
CAST: Sarah Michelle Gellar, Jason Behr, Kadee Strickland, William Mapother, Clea Duvall, Ted Raimi, Rosa Blasi, Bill Pullman, Takako Fuji, Grace Zabriskie.
DIRECTOR: Takashi Shimizu.
WARNING: Minimal SPOILERS and more freaky Japanese bug-eyed ghost chick antics.....
"It never forgives. It never forgets..." goes the tagline for THE GRUDGE, the smash-hit American remake of JU-ON, the 2002 Japanese horror film that, itself, was a worldwide success. Throwing out the usual conventions of the Haunted House genre (ghosts just looking for peace, safety outside the house, benign endings) JU-ON essentially ripped up the rulebook and gave us: (1) a never-ending curse, (2) a vicious trio of ghosts who (3) relentlessly target and terrorize anyone who disturbs their space, and (4) an extended network of characters who are linked by the fact that they are so very, very fucked.
The setting is still Tokyo, and the basic framework is still the same, but with Americans in most of the major roles. As with JU-ON, the plot revolves around an ordinary-looking Tokyo house that was the scene of a gruesome murder-suicide three years ago. The house then becomes the source of a virulent curse that ensnares: (1) a social work student (Sarah Michelle Gellar), (2) the American family now living in the house (William Mapother, Clea Duvall, Grace Zabriskie), (3) the executive sister (Kadee Strickland) of the head of that family, (4) the social work student's boyfriend (Jason Behr), (5) a college professor (Bill Pullman), (6) the professor's wife (Rosa Blasi), (7) and the Japanese detectives who investigated the original slayings.
The setpieces are the same as the original - but somehow even more frightening. If you've seen JU-ON then nothing about the American remake will surprise you. But it's still a terrifying ride. Will any of these characters escape the curse? Will the ostensible heroine (Gellar) somehow placate the ghosts and escape their wrath? Don't hold your breath...
See for yourself. But don't watch it alone. And, for the love of God, don't watch it with your cat. You see, one of the ghosts is a cat - and everytime that fucking thing yowled onscreen I had to endure Casper, my own little furry demon, jumping on my neck - claws bared - and screaming "Who dat?! Who dat!?" right in my ear. Bastard.
BUT, SERIOUSLY: Essentially, THE GRUDGE is JU-ON with mostly Americans in the role. As good as JU-ON is, though, I prefer the American remake because of: (1) a more polished presentation, (2) a more streamlined plot, and (3) more relatable characters, due to their being American. Having lived in Japan for over 2 years, I could sympathize with their disorientation in the sometimes strange and often surreal world of the Land of the Rising Sun. Indeed, this sense of dislocation as felt by the foreign characters adds another layer of unease to the proceedings.
Also, by paring down some of the plot threads, director Takashi Shimizu (who also directed JU-ON) creates a more elegant and seamless story. JU-ON had so many different threads that the plot got a little confusing here and there. That might have been Shimizu's intent back then, but he now creates a stronger film by focusing on a slightly smaller group of characters. The result is a film that is non-linear, hypnotic, but never confusing. And all the more frightening because of the sharper clarity of focus.
The cast of American actors is skilled and confident. I have never been warm to Sarah Michelle Gellar, but I liked her take on Karen, the social work student. She's quietly strong, with just the right amount of spunk and vulnerability. As her increasingly-confused (and terrified) boyfriend, Jason Behr does well in his limited role. William Mapother, Clea Duvall, and Grace Zabriskie are all good as the doomed family that moves into the cursed house. Bill Pullman and Rosa Blasi are equally solid in their pivotal roles as, respectively, the professor who inadvertently triggers the events leading to the haunting, and his bewildered wife who ultimately tries to help Gellar unravel the cause of the curse.
The best character - for me, anyway - is Kadee Strickland as the sleek and savvy executive who is also the sister of William Mapother's character. The sequence that shows her being terrorized in her deserted office high-rise, then in her apartment building's elevator, and finally in her locked apartment, is probably the most terrifying sequence in both JU-ON and THE GRUDGE - or any horror film of recent memory. This chilling set-piece further drives home the point of both films: once you're in the crosshairs of these ghosts, nowhere is safe...
THE GRUDGE is that rare remake that is actually better than the already-good original. It's a modern masterpiece of horror. And makes me think twice about going back to Tokyo on holiday.....
And, just like the original, do not watch this movie with your cats.
JUON: THE GRUDGE (2002 - JAPANESE HORROR) **** out of *****
(Here's a thought, jackasses: leave the fucking house. What's that? You don'ta speaka or underastanda Engrish? Well, I guess you guys are fucked, then.)
WARNING: Minimal SPOILERS and freaky bug-eyed Japanese ghost chicks straight ahead.
"When someone dies in the grip of a powerful rage, a curse is born...
The curse gathers in that place of death....
Everyone who encounters it - will be consumed by its fury."
With the above freaky quote begins the absolutely terrifying and brilliant Japanese horror film JU-ON, which is the Japanese word for "grudge." That word is entirely appropriate, basically describing a relentless trio of malevolent spirits who basically pursue and kill anyone who trespasses on the scene of their deaths - a completely non-descript middle-class home in Tokyo, Japan where a murder-suicide occurred three years ago. But this ain't no ordinary haunting, folks. Far from it. So very far from it.
Before JU-ON came along, even the most terrifying haunted house film was hampered by one little inconvenient constraint: the protagonists could ultimately solve their problems by - say it with me now - leaving... the... fucking... house. Sure, sometimes they were in a financial bind and couldn't just walk away (THE AMITYVILLE HORROR) or were locked in because of their own stupidity (THE HAUNTING) or were snowbound (THE SHINING) or just had a death wish (THE CHANGELING) or were just bored out of their skulls (WHAT LIES BENEATH). But, in the end, when worse came to worst, our heroes all skedaddled out of there when it became crystal-clear that the ghosts meant business.
With JU-ON, however, leaving the house doesn't solve anything because - here's the brilliant part - once you enter the house, you are "marked for death." Yup, those ghosts will follow you everywhere - your apartment, your office, your favorite restaurant, your favorite bathroom stall - until they finally get your ass. Then the location of your death becomes a new "Ju-on" - and the curse spreads like a virus from there. So much for just running out the door, eh?
The center of the curse is that deceptively-ordinary-looking house in Tokyo. Evidently, a husband murdered his wife and son (and their, um, cat) - then killed himself. As you can imagine, this was about as helpful in raising the house's value as a Samurai burial ground being uncovered beneath it. Essentially, this is when the curse begins - and anyone who enters the house aftert that becomes a target by the Three Musketeers of the Japanese Netherworld.
JU-ON is really an ensemble piece, with multiple protagonists jostling for attention. Their stories are also told in a trippy, non-linear fashion that jumps back and forth through time - and really makes you question if your cat has been slipping some everclear into your water bottle. Story threads loop back on themselves - or dead-end abruptly, only to be picked up again when you least expect it. The result is a heavily surreal atmosphere of dread and foreboding - anything can happen to anyone at anytime.
Some of the folks who finds themselves ensnared by the curse are: (1) a social work student, (2) a family that moves into the cursed home, (3) the executive sister of the head of that family, (4) the cops who investigated the original massacre at the house, (5) the social worker's best friend, (6) three school girls who investigate the story as an urban legend several years later, and (7) many others. As you can see, this curse gets around.
I'm going to refrain from sharing anything else from y'all - except to say that the less you know about the shocks and scares (and there are many) of JU-ON, the more you will jump in your seat and scream like a girl, prompting your stocky white cat to give you a look of utter disgust. Not that I've had that happen to me. Ahem.
BUT, SERIOUSLY: Speaking plainly, JU-ON: THE GRUDGE will smother you with its claustrophobic atmosphere and get under your skin. The creators finally give us a haunting you can never escape from, because these phantoms just keep on coming - like the energizer bunnies of the underworld. And they often pop up where you least expect them. It doesn't matter where you run, because it's just a matter of time until they get you. The scariest set-piece is the one involving the executive sister who is terrorized first in the house, then her office highrise late at night, then her own apartment where she.... well, you'll just have to see for yourself. Let's just say a locked door will never make you feel safe ever again.
Regarding the cast, they're all pretty good. Then again, it's hard to accurately gauge their performances in Japanese, but they all appear credibly terrified. Director Takashi Shimizu expertly creates a mounting sense of dread and an off-kilter vibe that is further enhanced by the twisting, non-linear storyline. This method of telling the story echoes Dario Argento's own surreal effort from INFERNO (1980). In that film, a similar ensemble of characters were united by the common thread of an obscure legend - which spelled doom for most of them. In JU-ON, the unifying factor for the characters is the cursed house - which contaminates them all with what is basically a death sentence.
The only misgiving I have is that the plot has one thread too many. Shaving off one or two of them would have helped the story be more streamlined and elegant. The subplot about the three schoolgirls investigating the urban legend of the house many years later could've been saved for a future film - as the 2004 American remake wisely did.
Bottom line: JU:ON - THE GRUDGE is a ground-breaking haunted house film that takes the horror out of the haunted house - and puts it wherever you are. In other words, you can run - but you can't hide.
In honor of one of my favorite snacks, next week will be "a Jelly-Bean grab-bag" week. Which means: all sorts of flavors in one bag. Yup, anything goes, baby. Any genre, anytime. And this won't be the last "Jelly-Bean grab-bag" week. Because variety is the spice of life.
# 79 - WHEN IN ROME: 2010 (AKA: ITALY IS MY FAVORITE COUNTRY. DEAL WITH IT...)
# 80 - DESPICABLE ME: 2010 (AKA: BLOFELD ADOPTS)
# 81 - THE LOSERS: 2010 (AKA: ZOE SALDANDA PLUS CHRIS EVANS EQUALS: MY, IT'S GETTING HOT IN HERE...)
# 82 - UP: 2010 (AKA: THE BALLOON THING IS COMPLETE BULLSHIT, BY THE WAY...)
# 83 - BASIC INSTINCT: 1993 (AKA: HOW'S MY COOCH LOOK IN THIS LIGHT?)
# 84 - THE FULL MONTY: 1997 (AKA: YOU, SIRS, ARE NO CHRIS EVANS, SAM WORTHINGTONS, OR RUSSELL CROWES)
# 85 - MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE: 1999 (AKA: THE LAST TIME I TRACED A LETTER TO ITS MYSTERIOUS OWNER, HE DEFINITELY DIDN'T LOOK LIKE KEVIN COSTNER)
Well, the weekend was bound to end (damn it). But at least it was a fun one. On the reviews side of the house, the Chick Flicks are all in the can, and the Horror/Horror Remakes are a third of the way there.
Please expect the following schedule on Monday and Tuesday:
8/30/10 - JU-ON: THE GRUDGE and THE GRUDGE
8/31/10 - MY BLOODY VALENTINE and MY BLOODY VALENTINE 3-D and (if I'm lucky and successfully avoid certain people who must be actively trying to keep me from writing by waving vodka under my nose) PIRANHA 3-D.
Come Wednesday, we can start September with a brand-new week's worth of reviews... schedule to post shortly...
THE HAUNTING (1999 - HORROR REMAKE) ** out of *****
(Here's a thought, jackasses: leave the fucking house. What's that? You lost the keys to the padlocked gate? Sounds like you disphits have a problem. Ta ta...)
CAST: Liam Neeson, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Lilli Taylor, Owen Wilson, Virginia Madsen, Bruce Dern, Marian Seldes, Alix Koromvay, Todd Field.
DIRECTOR: Jan De Bont
WARNING: Some SPOILERS and the most unsubtle ghosts this side of hell, right up ahead...
When it was announced in the late 90's that producer Steven Spielberg planned to remake the 1963 horror hit THE HAUNTING, I was pretty stoked. I'm a fan of the THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE, the novel by Shirley Jackson that THE HAUNTING was based on. With a cast including proven leading man Liam Neeson, then-rising star Catherine Zeta-Jones, proven quirky talent Lilly Taylor, and then-rising comedian Owen Wilson, the remake looked like nothing could mar it.
Then they hired Jan De Bont to direct. De Bont was a cinematographer before making the jump to directing with 1994's surprise hit, SPEED, and it's not-so-surprise dud of a sequel, SPEED 2, in 1997. To be fair, SPEED 2 wasn't as bad as many have suggested. If anything, it's almost as kinetic and propulsive as the original film. Which is exactly why Jan De Bont should never have been allowed near the remake of THE HAUNTING. I shall explain later.
Basically, it's the same set-up as the 1963 film: Hill House is a mansion in New England with a sinister history of supernatural phenomena - the kind of place that whackjobs will drive hundreds of miles just to snap a picture of. Sometimes, those whackjobs have Ph. D's. The particular whackjob in question is Dr. David Marrow (Liam Neeson). Dr. Marrow, just like the original's Dr. Markway, is a scientist. However, unlike Markway, he doesn't want to study supernatural phenomena - he wants to stud y the psychology of fear. The only reason Hill House comes into play is that Marrow needs a suitably spooky place to conduct his experiment, which is: invite several subjects to Hill House for what is supposed to be an insomnia study - only he's really studying how spooked they are by the house and its stories.
If you're thinking this is just a tad unethical, and that Marrow is one of those colossal academic pricks who will do anything to get his name in a journal, then join me in anticipating the moment much later in the movie when Marrow will get his ass handed to him. Trust me - you'll enjoy it. Anyhow, the group of sleep-deprived dorks that have fallen for Marrow's schpiel are: (1) Eleanor Vance, a shy and lonely woman still mourning the death of her mother; (2) Theo, a blatantly bisexual beauty who is forever gazing upon Eleanor like she's a slab of Prime Rib; (3) Luke (Owen Wilson), a quip-a-minute hipster/slacker that you just can't wait to see iced; and (4) Todd (Todd Field), a guy who, well, he doesn't have much personality and ends up skipping the whole Hill House Beer Blast so let's not even worry about him, shall we?
Oh, and there's also Mary (Alix Koromvay), Marrow's assistant who is also the only other person who knows the not-so-good doctor is pulling the ol' bait-and-switch on these lab rats. Unfortunately, as soon as they arrive in Hill House, Mary starts to freak out a little. This could be due to either: (1) the house's ridiculously over-the-top decor/feng shui that offends the eye so much a blind person would run screaming from it; or (2) Mr. and Mrs. Dudley (Bruce Dern and Marian Seldes), the caretakers, are even creepier than the ones from the 1963 film; (3) Mary is feeling guilty for helping Marrow hornswaggle the unsuspecting group; or (4) Hill House is as fucking haunted as surely as Chris Evans is a smokin' hot slab of man-meat.
Turns out that # 4 is the case. Right in the middle of a particularly laughable hissy fit, Mary gets her comeuppance: the ghosts decide to teach her to be less of a drama queen - by slapping her in the face with piano wire. Boo-yah, bitch. Unfortunately, this just causes Mary to be even more of a drama queen, so Marrow rolls his eyes and commands Todd to drive her to the hospital. Todd, seeing the (ghost) writing on the wall, quickly agrees. As they drive off, Marrow yells, "I expect you to be back soonest!" Too bad he turns away too soon to see Todd and Mary's "Finger" salutes sticking out the window.
Suffice it to say, the rest of the film chronicles Hill House's attempts destroy the remaining quartet of Marrow, Theo, Eleanor, and Luke. Unlike the first film, though, which insisted on keeping the ghosts ambiguous and possibly a figment of the characters' imaginations, the remake basically turns them into a phantom version of A CHORUS LINE. If the ghosts were anymore visible and active, the fuckers would be doing high-kicks up and down the stairs while twirling batons and gargling tequila. It's all hilarious and great to look at - but it ain't scary.
Anyhow, Marrow does get his comeuppance when the others figure out that he duped them into thinking the whole thing was an insomnia study. To justify his deception, he gives Theo a high-minded and patronizing speech about how he did what he did to, ahem, find out "why people do what they do, why they feel that they feel." Needless to say, Theo cuts him off by slapping him. Obviously having heard this shit from Celine Dion before - and sung better.
Does Hill House kill 'em all? Do some of them make it out alive? Does Marrow get sued by the survivors for everything from manslaughter to wearing boring sweaters? Does Theo make a pass at Eleanor? Does Luke join them in a threesome? Should I go make a booty call because I'm getting horny? The answer to all these questions except the last one is: maybe.
The answer to the last question is: where did I put the fucking phone?
BUT, SERIOUSLY: What a missed opportunity. A classic source film just ripe for updating/reimagining, a talented and attractive cast, a producer named Steven Spielberg, and a generous budget. So what the hell went wrong? Well, for starters, they could have hired a director skilled in building atmosphere, dread, and mood. While Jan De Bont is definitely skilled at kinetic action and propulsive suspense, he is not a horror film director., and THE HAUNTING needed someone who could create a gradual build of terror, instead of desperate and misguided machine-gun bursts of noise and special effects to try to generate fear.
Too bad, because the script was half-way decent, incorporating potentially intriguing new elements as the covert psychological experiment on fear, and having Eleanor unravel the mystery of Hill House. Indeed, the character of Eleanor as written by David Self and portrayed by Lilli Taylor is a much more sympathetic person than the shrill and irritating version played by Julie Harris in the 1963 version. To be fair, back then Harris reportedly wanted to play Eleanor in a different manner, but director Robert Wise insisted on his own interpretation - which, evidently, is what we saw in the movie. Shame.
If the film has any kind of redeeming quality, it's the performances. Liam Neeson is a solid, if unremarkable, lead. Catherine Zeta Jones is very likable as Theo, the bisexual artist who senses the pain and loneliness in Eleanor and reaches to her in kindness and, perhaps, attraction. This possibility is supported by the rumor that a love scene between Theo and Eleanor was deleted to secure a PG-13 rating. I believe it, because the chemistry between Zeta-Jones and Taylor seems to hint at hidden fires left burning. Owen Wilson is welcome comic relief as Luke, and has some great lines. Finally, Lilli Taylor provides the only reason this film doesn't get a *1/2 (crap) rating. Her take on Eleanor is warm and appealing, and makes us want to root for her survival. Unfortunately, her climactic confrontation with the ghosts of Hill House are awkwardly staged and directed. Sigh.
In the end, what this remake needed was a director who understands horror films and the art of building fear. Instead, it got an action-movie director who tries to scare the audience by throwing things at them and screaming "BOO!" at the top of his lungs. Bad move. Oh, well...
WARNING: Some SPOILERS and lots of things going bump, boo, and bang in the dark....
Utter the name "Shirley Jackson" before any confirmed fan of supernatural/ghost novels, and they will likely either jizz or cross themselves. You see, Ms. Jackson was the author of a little novel called THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE. Released in the late 50's, the book dealt with a 90-year old mansion in the most remote part of New England. And not just any 90-year old mansion - but one with a troubled history of mysterious deaths and occurrences. The novel was such a runaway success that it spawned two films: a very good one in 1963 and a very shitty one in 1999. But first things first...
At one time owned by a tycoon named Hugh Crain, Hill House has seen two of his wives die mysteriously. After Crain's own death, his daughter Abigail basically grew to be an ancient spinster in the house, eventually succumbing herself to whatever fucked-up influences lurk within its walls. Not long after Abigail's death, her caregiver (who inherited the house) inexplicably hangs herself. And Hill House has been abandoned since. So, in summary, the place ain't exactly Disneyland.
Years and years later, a quartet of foolish dipshits show up to, ahem, investigate it's mysterious phenomena. This group is comprised of: (1.) Dr. Markway (Richard Johnson), some sort of scientist who is trying to rationalize ghostly phenomena - that is, when he's not standing around trying to look like Sean Connery; (2) Eleanor Vance (Julie Harris), a repressed spinster who is so high-strung and prone to violent shouting you have to wonder if she's the reason Prozac was invented; (3) Luke Sanderson (Russ Tamblyn), a carefree lad who expects to one day inherit Hill House and is forever hitting on (4) Theo (Claire Bloom), a sleek and seductive city girl who seems more interested in - gasp! - Eleanor. Way to be ahead of your time, Theo baby. Flip that straight girl...
Also in the house are its caretakers, Mr. and Mrs. Dudley (Valentine Byall and Rosalie Crutchley). Mr. Dudley barely has any screen time so, far all I know, a piece of furniture named Valentine Byall played him; concerning Mrs. Dudley, well, she has more screen time and I frankly wish she didn't - mainly because the bitch is fucking creepy and prone to saying things to our heroes like, "We leave at 6 PM every night. Before it gets dark. The closest house is 9 miles away. If anything happened, no one could hear you. In the night. In the dark." Thanks, you demonic bitch, for the warm fuzzies. Now fix our fucking dinner and go back to your coffin in town.
At any rate, Markway's strategy for investigating Hill House seems to consist of having his team: (1) wander around the house, (2) stare like dumb shits at the paneling, (3) argue with one another, and (4) occasionally listen to him give some techno-philo-psycho-babble bullshit about "cold spots" and even more boring Hill House history. Very scientific, dude. I can see you planned this project well.
Anyway, Eleanor promptly begins to go ape-shit. Not surprising since the following things occur: (1) someone - or something - repeatedly slams what sounds like a whole blue whale against her and Theo's closed bedroom door, (2) someone - or something - scrawls HELP ELEANOR COME HOME PLEASE on the front hallway wall, (3) someone - or something - moans and groans from down the hall like he's getting the Blowjob of the Century, and (4) someone - or something - grabs her hand in the dark and squeezes it until she screams, "Stop it, Manny Pacquiao!" Okay, maybe it isn't Pacquiao - but it sure as hell felt like someone with powerful fists.
Is Eleanor going crazy? Are the others trying to push her over the edge? Is Hill House really haunted? Is Markway just trying to punk them? Or is Hugh Crain really back to kick some ass? Who will live? Who will die? Why the fuck don't they just get the hell out of the house? And - most importantly - will Eleanor and Theo finally get down for some hot girl-on-girl action? Well, let's just say that - as with the book - not all these questions are answered, with most left to the imagination. And, since this was the 60's, you can forget about Theo and Eleanor making like Denise Richards and Neve Campbell in WILD THINGS. And just because it stars Catherine Zeta Jones, don't think you'll see any skin in the limp 1999 remake, either.
BUT, SERIOUSLY: In a word, THE HAUNTING is, well, rather haunting. Taking a simple "team-investigates-haunted-house" scenario, but painting it in ambiguous and eerie tones, director Robert creates an terrifying film that is all the more effective by not showing the horror lurking in the dark - and just implying its presence. Which made things far more terrifying.
THE HAUNTING has some very frightenting set-pieces: (1) the attack by an unseen force on Theo and Eleanor's bedroom door, (2) The group finding the message scrawled on the hallway wall, (3) Eleanor being awakened by the ghostly moans and whispers from down the hall, (4) the mysterious "hand" that grips Eleanor's in the dark, and (5) the climax on Hill House's driveway. While these sequences may seem quaint and old-hat compared to modern horror films, the are noteworthy for paving the way for future horror films. Sadly, none of the the films that came after could duplicate THE HAUNTING's sense of dread and foreboding - especially the pathetic remake.
The cast is uniformly fine. Richard Johnson makes for a cool, level-headed hero as Markway. Russ Tamblyn is suitably flip and light as Luke. As for the women, Claire Bloom turns in the most intriguing performance as Theo, a woman who is either bisexual or lesbian, but never telegraphs this. Instead, she conveys a lot with cat-like movements, mysterious smiles, and knowing looks. Even with feline ambiguousness, though, Bloom also manages to get across Theo's genuine concern for Eleanor.
As the pivotal center that the plot comes to revolve around, Julie Harris as Eleanor Vance turns in a performance that is shrill in some parts, sympathetic in others. For the longest time, I found the character hard to like, given as she was to screaming like a banshee at the slightest provocation. I used to think that this was Julie Harris's acting choice. Recently, however, I found out she disagreed with how director Robert Wise wanted her to play the character. However, not wanting to rock the boat, Ms. Harris just went along with his plan. The result is a heroine that I am ambivalent over. In the end, you can't help but sympathize with her, but she does try your patience occasionally. I have to wonder how Julie Harris wanted to play Eleanor. My gut tells me she would've toned down Eleanor's hysterical side somewhat - which would have gone a long way in making her more appealing.
Bottom line: THE HAUNTING is a solid haunted-house flick that deserves its reputation. Unfortunately, it would be followed in 1999 by one of the most ill-advised, ill-conceived, and ill-executed remakes ever.
THE SWITCH (2010 - ROMANTIC COMEDY-DRAMA) ***1/2 out of *****
(This is what happens when you get drunk and play musical chairs with specimen cups filled with cum - a game also known as "Jizz Roullette")
CAST: Jennifer Aniston, Jason Bateman, Thomas Robinson, Juliette Lewis, Patrick Wilson, Jeff Goldblum.
DIRECTOR: Josh Gordon, Will Speck
WARNING: Some SPOILERS and inappropriate use of semen right up ahead...
THE SWITCH stars Jennifer Aniston and Jason Bateman, and is a love story. But not necessarily between the two of them - at least not at its core. While the film does deal superficially with Wally Mars's (Bateman) conflict over his hidden feelings for best friend Kassie Larson (Aniston), this movie is more than just about "a-love-that-dare-not-speak-its-name," which is a done-to-death romantic comedy staple and, unfortunately, a common headache in real life. Nope, this movie has a more unconventional angle and is really a love story between Wally and Sebastian (Thomas Robinson), Kassie's son. The "romance" is of a paternal nature, as Wally slowly starts to realize that the kid just might be - horrors! - his.
How the fuck could this have happened? Especially since Wally and Kassie have never, you know, fucked each other's brains out? (well, at least not in ten years) Glad you asked, young Jedis. See, Kassie was apparently approaching the dreaded 4-Oh as a Singleton and - I guess, having seen J. Lo's THE BACK-UP PLAN - figured that shoving a turkey baster filled with some stranger's well-studied cum up her coochie to kick-start her ovaries was a good idea.
However, when Wally offered to have her use his, um, batter she basically laughed and told him to get real. Reasons cited by Kassie for not wanting to employ Wally's "swimmers" include, but are not limited to: (1) he's neurotic, (2) hypochondriac, (3) stubborn, (4) argumentative, (5) sarcastic, (6) and turns into a Class-A Loon when drunk. In other words, my Dream Guy. But I'm not the one shoving up a turkey baster up my coochie. Well, you know what I mean.
Anyhow, not exactly finding the idea of a little Wally popping out of her womb a pleasant one, Kassie instead opts for the sperm of a Viking god named Roland Orensen (Patrick Wilson). Tall, blonde, gorgeous, and with biceps that you just want to rub olive oil on before pole-dancing with, Roland is a fucking hottie. Hell, I want to have his babies.
But, like I said before, I'm not the one playing "Pin the Cum-Filled Turkey Baster on the Coochie." It's Kassie - and to celebrate the event she throws a (I swear I am not making this shit up) an "insemination party." Complete with sperm-shaped confetti and a Viking helmet for Roland to wear when it comes time for him to - well, I'll just come out and say it okay? - jack off like a champ into a dixie cup, the affair is downright surreal and horrifying in equal measure. All I can say is: wow... and I thought I was kinky. Apparently, I ain't got nothin' on Kassie the Colossal Freak.
Unfortunately, Kassie's also made the colossal mistake of inviting Wally, who proceeds to do the following: (1) annoy Debbie (Juliette Lewis), Kassie's other best friend; (2) get drunk like the proverbial skunk, (3) meet Roland and (4) end up feeling inferior to him, so much so that (5) he fucks around with the sperm sample when he finds it in the bathroom, and (6) accidentally spilling the, um, goods down the sink, causing him to (7) jack off to Diane Sawyer's picture, leading to (8) an orgasm that's just big enough to replace the, uh, spilt spunk. So, basically, as Wally himself opines later to colleague Leonard (Jeff Goldblum), he hijacks Kassie's pregnancy. Got all that, or do you want the Power-Point presentation mailed to you?
So, long story short, Kassie unknowingly puts Wally's splooge into her turkey baster, does the deed, gets pregnant, then promptly tells the Wallmeister that she's moving back to Minnesota to raise the kid. But, naturally, Wally can't risk losing her by confessing that he: (1) not only loves her somethin' fierce, but also (2) switched Roland's Viking jism for his decidedly non-Viking own, which means (3) he is the father of her unborn child, which would probably (4) cause Kassie to rip his testicles off and replace his eyeballs with them. In other words, he just smiles through his pain and let's her move to Minnesota, while he stays in The Big Apple and loves her from even further.
Cut to seven years later, when Wally - who hasn't exactly been living on Cloud 9, emotionally - gets a call from Kassie out of the blue. She tells him that she and Sebastian - Wally's sperm which is now walking and talking - are moving back to NYC because of promising job offer at ABC. Yes, I forgot to mention that Kassie is some sort of reporter. Wally's so happy that he blows a load right in his pants - right there on Madison Avenue. Okay, not really. But the look on his face certainly suggests it.
So, Kassie and Sebastian return to the City That Never Sleeps. However, Wally's joy at meeting them for dinner is quickly dampened when he discovers that Sebastian is: (1) stubborn, (2) opinionated, (3) neurotic, and (4) generally a sarcastic bastard. Basically, it's like someone: (1) cloned Wally, then (2) shot him with that Shrinking Ray Gun from DESPICABLE ME, and (3) put this new miniature clone right across the dinner table from him. How's that for surreal?
This is the beginning of Wally's slow recovery of his memory from Kassie's insemination party seven years ago. With Leonard's help, Wally uncovers the shocking truth that... he's a fucking pig who shoved his erupting dick into a dixie cup to correct a drunken mistake that, evidently, resulted in Sebastian, AKA, Wally, Jr. This is also, however, the beginning of the love story between Wally and Sebastian, as the two bond and get to know each other in a way that every father and inadvertent son should. And, although he doesn't say it, you can see Wally also thinking about finally facing Kassie and turning that "love-that-dare-not-speak-its-name" to the "love-that-jumped-on-Kassie-and-spanked-her-ass-to-show-her-who-Daddy-really-is."
Unfortunately, something throws a huge (in more ways than one) monkey wrench into that little program of his: the arrival on the scene of Roland. Yes, our Viking sperm donor is now divorced from his wife and has set his sights on Kassie and what he thinks is his son. Never mind the fact that Roland and Sebastian look as similar to one another as Robert Redford and Jaden Smith. It seems that Wally's got some serious competition - and some serious explaining to do, real soon, if he wants Sebastian to know who his real Pops is.
How this all unfolds, I'll leave to y'all to uncover. I will say this, though: how Kassie could not be even just a tad suspicious, when Sebastian is basically a mini-me of Wally, is absolutely beyond me. I hope that ABC doesn't make her an investigative journalist, because how the fuck can she uncover any mysterious conspiracies when she's tripping over gigantic clues in her own house - and completely missing them?
Moral of the story: next time, don't make such a production of shoving a cum-filled turkey baster up your coochie, lady. Low key is, well, key.
BUT, SERIOUSLY: Pleasantly offbeat and unconventional, THE SWITCH benefits greatly from the nice, easy rapport between Jason Bateman and Jennifer Aniston. Make no mistake, though: this is Jason Bateman's movie through and through - as it is really Wally's story, with Kassie more on the sidelines. Much like her role in LOVE HAPPENS (good movie, awful title), Aniston is a trigger for some of the plot's more important points, but spends more time in the background while her co-star's main story unfolds.
In this case, Wally's gradually-developing relationship with Sebastian is the emotional track that THE SWITCH moves assuredly on. All their scenes together are warm, funny, and touching. Watching the highly-structured and not a little neurotic Wally slowly realize that he's sired another life form is a joy to watch. Even more resonant is Wally's slow discovery that Sebastian is, well, a lot like him. There's nothing more joyous in life in than watching your children, nieces, and nephews display some of your (hopefully) more positive traits as they grow up. It's like part of your soul living on in them. The scene wherein Wally tells Sebastian about how he never knew his own father or what he was like - and the way that Sebastian responds in such a loving way that mirrors how Wally would have responded himself is a perfect example of this.
Indeed, watching Wally hold back his tears and emotions because he just might give away his secret love for his son is a bravura example of fine acting from Jason Bateman. This just proves what Kevin Costner once said: great acting isn't always about expressing an emotion - sometimes, the most heart-breaking thing to see is someone trying to hide or suppress a powerful emotion, especially love. All of Wally and Sebastian's scenes together prove that - they simultaneously lift you and break your heart.
As for the other main star, Jennifer Aniston is fine. Like Julia Roberts, she usually stays within a defined ranged of acting - but does it well. In her hands, Kassie is likable and engaging - although you do wish you knew a little more of her history with Wally. Fortunately, Aniston ably suggests hidden levels to their relationship that may not have been on the written page. Like the look she gives Wally one night when they are drinking wine on her couch - a look that suggests she's aware that they have potential as something more than friends, but may not necessarily have the courage to do anything about it. Aniston suggests all this without saying a single word and, as far as I'm concerned, it proves wrong her detractors that say she can't act.
Patrick Wilson does interesting things with the role of Roland. Ostensibly the "other man," Roland could easily have been an unlikable jerk with no nuance or dimension. Wilson, however, turns the character into a sympathetic blend of insecurity, bravado, and wounded pride. You can tell he really wants to make a success out of his relationship with Kassie after the disaster of his first marriage, even if it is - in the end - for the wrong reasons. Juliette Lewis is her usual kooky fun self as Kassie's blunt best friend, while Jeff Goldblum is downright hilarious as Wally's droll work pal, Leonard. We need Jeff Goldblum in more comedies, man.
But the best performance, after Jason Bateman's, goes to Thomas Robinson as Wally Jr., - er, excuse me, I meant to say Sebastian. Armed with the most melancholy and expressive brown eyes, Robinson takes a role that could have tried nerves - and turns it into a funny breath of fresh air. Most child characters in film are basically adults walking around in kid's bodies, and Sebastian could have easily come across as that in the hands of a more cloying and precious child actor. Instead, Robinson bravely plays all of Sebastian's rough edges, instead of smoothing them down. The result is a kid who is believably willful, intelligent, feisty, but also exceedingly sensitive and loving around those he trusts. I expect good things from Thomas Robinson in the future.
Bottom line: THE SWITCH is basically a Bro-mance - a love story between a difficult man and a difficult kid who, when they are together, are the easiest of soulmates. And it just might be one of the best love stories I've ever seen.
EAT PRAY LOVE (2010 - ROMANTIC COMEDY/DRAMA) **** out of *****
(Julia Roberts, basking under the Roman, Indian, and Balinese suns...)
CAST: Julia Roberts, Javier Bardem, Viola Davis, Richard Jenkins, James Franco, Billy Crudup, Tuva Novotny, Luca Argentere, Christine Hakim, Anakae Lapia.
DIRECTOR: Ryan Murphy
WARNING: Some SPOILERS and shameless travelogue shenanigans right up ahead.
How willing and able you are to tolerate the cinematic version of Liz Gilbert's runaway bestseller, EAT PRAY LOVE, is commensurate to how much you loved the book - or if you didn't like the book, how much you are willing and able to forget about it while watching the movie. If you'll recall, the book chronicled a year in Gilbert's life as she traveled to Italy, India, and Indonesia to "find" herself in the wake of back-to-back relationship meltdowns.
There are those who view the book with a cynical eye, chiefly because it's not as if Gilbert made her travels, learned something profound, decided to write about her experiences, and then sold the project. No, she embarked on her journey under contract from a publisher. In other words, it was somewhat of a calculated move. And for a book that's supposed to be about one's emotional honesty and self-discovery, there's something about that pre-meditation that used to bug me.
Another reason I am not keen on the book is because I actually read the first half of it, and while the Italy portion was entertaining and relatable (mainly because I lived there for nearly three years), I just couldn't get into the account and stopped reading. Or, as a friend whom I will call Clark Kent exclaimed after his girlfriend made him read the book: "Oh. My. God. Do women actually think like this?!" Priceless. Fucking priceless. I could've kissed him for such a brilliant line. The guy is a genius comedian and doesn't even know it.
So... when I decided to catch the movie version starring Julia Roberts as Part 2 of a 4-Part hot date (no, not with Clark Kent - he's like a brother to me), I psyched myself to approach the task in the same way I now approach everything in life: be open to the moment and see what happens. And what happened was quite strange: I liked the film very much. Sure, it's no UNDER THE TUSCAN SUN, but it did what I was afraid it wouldn't make me do: forget about the book.
The story opens with Liz Gilbert (Julia Roberts) jumping out of her crumbling marriage to the rather eccentric Stephen (Billy Crudup), and right into a soon-to-be-crumbling fling with the even more eccentric (and younger) David (James Franco). Evidently, Liz has never truly been on her own and decides that she needs to see what that might be like. So, against the advice of her best pal (Viola Davis), Liz decides to become an International Woman for a year. Italy, India, and Indonesia, here she comes! Presumably, the negotiation with the publisher happened sometime after she spoke to her pal and when she bought the plane tickets. And even more presumably, the publisher had great faith in Gilbert's psychic ability to predict she'd be living a grand story. Ahem.
At any rate, Liz's first stop is Rome, Italy - which is (arguably) one of the most beautiful cities in the world, filled with (definitely) the most beautiful people in the universe. And with a face like Julia Roberts, Liz has her pick of Italian stud-puppies - and can spend the next four months walking around bow-legged if she wanted to. Unfortunately, after the train wrecks of her last two relationships, Liz isn't in Italy looking for sex. Which, to me, is fucking incomprehensible. It's like going to Paris and not bothering to see the Eiffel tower. Nope, what she's there for is... food. Which is more comprehensible. Anyhow, Liz meets Sofi (Tuva Novotny), a pretty Swede who is: (1) banging a gorgeous Italian named Giovanni (Luca Argentere); (2) acts as Liz's new BFF, (2) teaches Liz to order cappucino and pastries like an assertive Roman, (3) joins her in gorging on pizza and pasta, and (4) most importantly, helps Liz shop for fat clothes when all that gorging on pizza and pasta catches up to them like a mutha-fucka.
Next on Liz's itinerary is India, where she goes to study meditation (or something) at an ashram presided over by David's guru. There she learns the following: (1) yoga is overrated, (2) meditation is boring, and (3) American women have absolutely nothing to worry about since (4) they don't get married off to total strangers by their dipshit parents the way Indian women do. Tutti (Anakae Lapia) is one such bride, and Liz provides her some moral support in face of what is sure to be a fate worse than marrying someone of your own free will - which is pretty bad to begin with (unless, of course, you're marrying Clark Kent). Liz also meets Richard (Richard Jenkins), a surly Texan who insists on calling her "Groceries" as a nickname. This is because he sees Liz chowing down like a starving cannibal in the cafeteria. What groceries have to do with Liz being a glutton is a goddamn mystery to me. Why not call her "Curry Vacuum Cleaner" or "Aloo Gobi Bottomless Pit?" I have an appetite worse than Liz's and no one has ever called me "Groceries." Ever. "Tape Worm Tool," yes. "Groceries," no.
Last on Liz's agenda is Indonesia, where the most eventful, er, events take place. For starters, in the movie's most touching thread, she befriends a Balinese woman, Wayan (Christine Hakim), who is divorced with a daughter. Apparently, divorce has a much higher penalty in Eastern cultures than the West - and usually for the woman. Wayan is practically an outcast in her country, despite being an intelligent, confident, and kind person. This sobers up Liz a bit, giving her pause about her own status as a divorcee - and making her realize she doesn't have a fucking problem in the world, after all.
Meanwhile, Liz also finally decides to get jiggy with a man. At last. I was starting to think that her vagina had decided to retire. The lucky guy who gets to open shop down there again is Felipe (Javier Bardem), a Brazilian in the "import-export" business. For Liz's sake, I hope it's not the import-export of cocaine or some other illegal substance - otherwise she'll have a lot more in common with Bridget Jones than Pretty Woman.
Anyhow, it's there in Bali that Liz is finally forced to make a decision: let someone into her heart again? Or go back to the States, safe and secure - but also empty-handed and, well, horny? Let's just say that after one romantic comedy in which Julia Roberts didn't get the guy (MY BEST FRIEND'S WEDDING), the cinematic gods weren't about to stiff her again. And let me just say that EAT PRAY LOVE ends with a sunset - and a boat sailing off into it. And, suffice it to say, the occupants are not cocaine smugglers. You do the math.
BUT, SERIOUSLY: It's not so surprising that I ultimately succumbed to the charms of the movie version of EAT PRAY LOVE. I should have seen it coming. After all, I love the following: (1) Julia Roberts; (2) female-centered fims, (3) films about people who travel to foreign locales and are transformed by the place and people; (4) and "happy endings" - even though I believe they are more like "happy moments." After all, there is really no such thing as an ending because what we often mistake to be an ending is often just the beginning - of a new story. And that story continues on after the sunset...
And so it goes with EAT PRAY LOVE. Despite my own reservations about the book and Clark Kent's wonderfully brilliant quip about it (don't be fooled by Clark's quip, though, because the girl he marries will be the luckiest in the world - make that the luckiest girl in the universe), I allowed myself to be open to the film and where it would take me. And just like Liz Gilbert, it took me to some great places - with the best tour guide one could ask for: Julia Roberts.
There are those who complain that Julia Roberts is always Julia Roberts. You know... that unique blend of vibrant humor, earthy sexiness, cool beauty, and melancholic undercurrent. My response? So what? Her persona is so winning and unlike anyone else's that I say let her be the same from movie to movie. If it works, let it keep working. Julia's schtick doesn't get old. Unlike, say, Michael Cera who is always the same from film to film - but also annoying as all get out.
As the undisputed center of the movie, Julia Roberts infuses the role of Liz with humanity, humor, and humility. Recalling Diane Lane's voiceover in UNDER THE TUSCAN SUN, director and co-writer Ryan Murphy delivers similar narration here to act as a guide through our heroine's three-part journey - and the many things that occur along that journey. Some touching highlights: (1) Liz bonding with Sofi on a pizza-scarfing trip to Naples (Viva, Napoli!) then (2) shopping for jeans that will fit their, uh, fuller sizes; (3) a Thanksgiving dinner, American-style, where Liz's Italian friends bid her farewell; (4) Liz bonding with Tuttii and assuring the younger woman that she sees good things for her and her new husband; (5) Richard finally opening up to Liz about his reason for being at the ashram; (6) Felipe confronting Liz about her fear of being vulnerable and opening up to anyone; and (7) the most touching of all: Liz writing to all her friends everywhere (including the ones she met in Italy and India) to help raise funds so that Wayan and her daughter can finally have a small home of their own. If you don't tear up at this last scene, then you need to check to see if you have still have a pulse.
As for the cast around Julia Roberts, they match her scene for scene and hold their own quite nicely. Viola Davis is a refreshing voice-of-reason as Liz's best friend, while both James Franco and Bill Crudup are distinctive as the men who finally (indirectly) push Liz to go solo for a year. Tuva Novotny as Sofi and Luca Argentere as her boyfriend, Giovanni, are the most memorable players from the Italian chapter of Liz's travels.
Richard Jenkins and Anakia Lapae are the highlights of the Indian chapter. The scene where Liz tells the nervous Tutti on her wedding day that she had a vision of Tutti and her groom "looking at each other with love and kindness" for the rest of their lives is such a powerful scene I had to look away from the screen. It's like what I tell another friend whom I will call Milla Jovovich (because she looks like her) about her relationship with her boyfriend: "Always be good and kind to each other, no matter what. No matter what."
Finally, the Indonesian chapter heralds the arrival of Javier Bardem and Christine Hakim, two performers who knock their roles out of the park. Bardem could have easily been just another vanilla romantic lead, but he portrays Felipe with such unexpected vulnerability and welcome quirkiness that you can't help but wish Liz would just wake up, get over her fears, and marry him already. But the film's most rewarding relationship is between Liz and Wayan, the healer who quietly endures an enormous burden imposed upon her by a culture that apparently does not like assertive women. Watching two divorcees - divided by culture, but united by common experience - develop a genuine friendship, and then watching one help the other in a hauntingly sweet act of kindness, is both life-changing and life-affirming.
Presumably, Liz actually did rally her friends around the world to help her ostracized and impoverished new friend get a small house for her broken family to call their own. If that's the case, then I am now a loyal fan of Liz Gilbert's. I set aside all reservations I had about the book. And will read that damn thing immediately.
In the end, what Liz learned is that every journey, every person encountered, every experience lived, is a clue to what you're looking for. You just have to be open to it all. Only when you open up, will you find it.
Happy Friday night, folks. Just a quickie (ha ha) to let you know that the subject reviews will post tomorrow. Then all seven of the Horror/Horror Remakes reviews will hopefully post on Sunday. Which will get me caught up and back on schedule.
That is, unless I decide to go hiking and mountain biking with some buds. We'll see. Kidding - my journalistic responsibilities come first.
But it's supposed to be gorgeous on Sunday... Hmmmmm... A dilemma...
A GOOD YEAR (2006 - ROMANTIC COMEDY) ***1/2 out of *****
(Did I drink too much wine - or does that waiter actually look like Russell Crowe? And if so, will he do a Gladiator strip-tease/lapdance if I give him $50 bucks?)
CAST: Russell Crowe, Albert Finney, Marion Cotillard, Tom Hollander, Abbie Cornish, Archie Punjabi, Didier Bourson, Isabelle Candelier, Valeria Bruni Tedeschi, Kenneth Cranham.
DIRECTOR: Ridley Scott.
WARNING: SPOILERS and mucho eye candy straight ahead - human, scenic, and architectural.
It's easy to say when I first became a fan of Russell Crowe. It was definitely before GLADIATOR (2000) turned him into the mega-star that he is. It was definitely not after I'd seen him in VIRTUOSITY (1995) or THE QUICK AND THE DEAD (1994) which were two of his first roles on these shores. While Crowe had a strong presence, delivered solid performances, and was more than equal to the veterans around him (Denzel Washington, Gene Hackman, Sharon Stone), his roles in VIRTUOSITY and THE QUICK AND THE DEAD weren't the kind that sets an actor apart from the pack - or make people whisper: "My. God. Who. Is. THAT!??"
Then, in 1997, he starred in L.A. CONFIDENTIAL as troubled LAPD cop Bud White. I don't know about the rest of the world, but this is when I got hooked on Russell Crowe. As White, Crowe was a dazzling combo of brute strength, boyish vulnerability, and surprising decency. White's complicated romance with fellow damaged soul Lynn Bracken (Kim Basinger) was the bruised beating heart of the film, and is what most people remember the most from L.A. CONFIDENTIAL. All around the world you could practically hear everyone whispering about Russell Crowe: "My. God. Who. Is. THAT!???"
Flash forward almost ten years later and we find Crowe playing yet another troubled soul. This time he's playing Max Skinner, a highly successful London trader who is also - if his rivals and colleagues are to be believed - the AntiChrist. And that's just fine by Max. In his mind, no one gets ahead by being nice. Indeed, so ruthless and ambitious is Max that he boldly defies the "gentleman's agreement" between the various trading houses - and makes a killing during an eventful day's trading by bending the rules. Evidently, someone forgot that they're not dealing with a gentleman. Not even close.
Max wasn't always like this. In flashbacks, we see him as a kid (Freddie Highmore) spending summer days at his Uncle Henry's (Albert Finney) chateau in Provence. Uncle Henry is the kind of uncle that everyone picks as their favorite: permissive, yet not a pushover. Young Max learns quite a bit from Henry, not the least of which are: the importance of a smart blue suit, the different kinds of wine, the art of playing chess, and how to lose gracefully at tennis. Actually, Henry doesn't quite succeed at teaching young Max this last one. Which is the first sign that Max will grow up to be quite the remarkable asshole.
So - back in the present, we find Max riding twin waves of adoration and accusation over his ethically-questionable trading tactics. Seems that an investigation is underway to determine whether what he did was allowable. For his part, Max treats this news like someone just told him his favorite TV show is being pre-empted for a broadcast of David Blaine making the London Bridge disappear: he rolls his eyes and sees what's on elsewhere. And what he finds is: a letter from a French notaire delivering some rather upsetting news. No, it's not about David Blaine making the Eiffel tower disappear as his next trick. The bombshell is that Max's beloved Uncle Henry has passed away.
Max grieves for, oh, a millisecond before his ruthlessly pragmatic side kicks in. He commands his terminally droll assistant, Jemma (Archie Punjabi), to arrange a trip for him to Provence. As soon as he arrives in South Frogland, he discovers that the rental car Jemma got for him is a (wait for it) Smart Car. Yes, folks. She gets him a car that he can barely fit one toned buttock in. And heaven forbid that he makes the mistake of sprouting a boner while trapped in the Moving Sardine Can, because the fucking thing will likely explode from internal pressure. Hilarious, Jemma. Ballsy, too. Because, see, I was once an executive assistant myself, and if I had pulled that kind of shit on my boss (who was the nicest guy this side of the Cascades), he would have decapitated me and fed my heads to the seals at the Seattle Aquarium. Imagine what a certified prick like Max Skinner is going to do to Jemma when he gets back to London. Girl, you better hide that ass.
After several years of trying to navigate his way through the Tuscan, er, Provencal countryside, Max finally finds his Uncle Henry's estate, which - apparently - is named "La Siroq." Which must be French for "The Owner of This Chateau Has a Nephew Who is a Remarkable Asshole." Oh, and excuse me, but the what the fuck is up with Europeans naming their houses? When you figure this out, please let me know. Or maybe we Yanks should start doing the same - so that on weekends, I can invite friends over to the shoebox of a flat that I live in by saying, "Yes, dah-lings, I am having a dinner party at Dickhaven on Friday night. Won't you come? RSVP, though, because there's very little street parking outside Dickhaven. And Dickhaven's garage? Do not get me started, dah-lings. Otherwise, living at Dickhaven is, well, paradise. Hoorah, Dickhaven!"
But enough of Dickhaven, and back to La Siroq... Max's plan is simple: (1) sell LaSiroq, (2) go back to London as soon as possible, and (3) continue being a remarkable asshole. Unfortunately, several things happen which put a nice fat turd in that proverbial punchbowl: (1) Max's boss, Sir Nigel (Kenneth Cranham), suspends him - which forces Max to (2) stay longer in Provence, where he gets to know (3) the caretaker, Duflot (Didier Bourdon) and (4) his wife (Isabelle Cantelier), who tell him that La Siroq is their home and (5) his Uncle Henry would be rolling over in his grave if he knew what his remarkable-asshole nephew is planning to do.
Further complicating matters are, ahem, two women who suddenly figure prominently in the plot: Fanny Chenal (Marion Cotillard) and Christy Burns (Abbie Cornish). Fanny is a ravishing and boner-inducing French chick whom Max nearly runs off the road because he's so busy fiddling with his... Palm Pilot. No, that is not code for "penis." He really is trying to check his emails - which is good because, as I mentioned before, if he would have seen Fanny and sprouted a boner while sitting in that cramped Smart Car, it would have surely exploded. She gets revenge on him later, however, when he falls into an empty pool (don't ask) with no shallow end or ladder (said don't ask), and Fanny wanders by and turns on the water valve in an attempt to drown Max (ask away). For his part, Max responds in that timeless way that men respond to beautiful women who treat them like shit: he falls in love with her.
And Christy? Well, turns out that Uncle Henry was somewhat of a he-whore, and bedded anything with an orifice that could pass for a vagina - on both sides of the Atlantic. Christy's American mom was such a person (and even had her own honest-to-goodness vagina - bonus!). All this by way of saying that Christy might be Henry's daughter which means - you got it - she would technically own La Siroq. Leaving Max in the precarious position of not only (1) losing his job in London, but also (3) losing La Siroq to his possible cousin, and (3) losing his quickly thawing heart to Fanny.
The rest of A GOOD YEAR charts Max's transformation from ruthless carnivorous careerist - to sweet and gentle soul who rediscovers his innocence through La Siroq and the people around it. What are you rolling your eyes for? It could happen. Anyhow, Max comes to a point where he must choose between cheating Christy out of her inheritance and selling La Siroq before returning to London - or settling down permanently in Provence with Fanny. Hmmmmm.... Let's think about this: stay in rainy, damp, crowded city filled with people with bad teeth? Or move to sunny, warm, gorgeous countryside and relentlessly fuck hot French chick?
Pack my bags. Now.
BUT, SERIOUSLY: Coming across like a variation on UNDER THE TUSCAN SUN, A GOOD YEAR is a refreshing dip into some relaxing and soothing cinematic waters. The gorgeous Provencal countryside is almost a character in itself. Ridley Scott (director of ALIEN, BLACK RAIN, GLADIATOR, BLACK HAWK DOWN, HANNIBAL) seems like an unusual choice to direct a romantic comedy, but he acquits himself well. He brings a brisk, masculine pace to the story - which is matched by a brisk and thoroughly masculine performance from Russell Crowe, himself an unusual choice for a romantic comedy protagonist. In the end, though, these unexpected elements succeed in making A GOOD YEAR appealingly offbeat and quirky. Russell Crowe, in particular, makes Max's journey of self-discovery particularly compelling to watch. Crowe makes Max so magnetic that even when the character is being an asshole extraordinaire, you can't help but be drawn to him like a moth to the flame. But this is no one-note performance, because Crowe is able to also show Max's deepening feelings for La Siroq and the various folks he encounters in its vicinity - especially Fanny.
Speaking of Fanny, this was the first film that I noticed Marion Cotillard (INCEPTION) in, and I can see why they cast her: she's a very skilled actress. Fanny is a nice blend of fiery passion and reticent vulnerability. You can see why Max would fall for her. As Christie, Max's unexpected cousin, Abbie Cornish is fine. However, I would've preferred if Christy had been turned into a male character. Don't get me wrong - I am and always will be an advocate of more female roles in films. However, having Christie constantly flitting on the edges of the Max-Fanny romance creates a sort of odd tension that would have been side-stepped if the character had been made into a young man. This would have created an older man-younger man, mentor-protege type of relationship that would have mirrored Max's connection to his Uncle Henry. Plus, it would have made the Max-Fanny romance more distinctive. Meanwhile, the rest of the cast is quite good, especially Tom Hollander as the closest thing that Max has to a friend. Special mention should also got to Archie Punjabi, who is simply terrific as Max's personal assistant. You can tell that under her tart impatience toward her boss lies deep affection (platonic, of course).
In the end, while it's not as good as UNDER THE TUSCAN SUN, A GOOD YEAR succeeds because of its talented star and the talented director guiding him. While some may write this off as just a pretty travelogue with beautiful people cavorting within it, I find it to be a reasonably well-made piece of light entertainment that finally answers the question of: "I wonder what would Russell Crowe be like in a romantic comedy."
Hello, folks. Had hoped to post A GOOD YEAR tonight but, well, had to answer the call of The Vodka Fairy. At any rate, with the weekend coming, I intend to get caught up with the last of the Chick Flicks reviews, as well as the Horror/Horror Remakes reviews. Once I get caught up, it'll be back to the review-a-day marathon.
Unless The Vodka Fairy gangs up on me with The Whiskey Wizard. Then all bets are off...
But, for now, expect tomorrow to hear about why Russell Crowe should be declared the Eighth Wonder of the World. Why? Because any guy who can topline a chick-flick without losing a centimeter of nutsac is worthy of it. More on that and A GOOD YEAR tomorrow.
ONLY YOU (1994 - ROMANTIC COMEDY) *1/2 out of *****
(I didn't think it was possible to make a crappy movie set in Italy. I was wrong. So wrong. So very, very wrong.)
CAST: Marisa Tomei, Robert Downey Jr., Bonnie Hunt, Fisher Stevens, Joachim De Almeda, Billy Zane, Adam Lefevre, John Benjamin Hickey.
DIRECTOR: Norman Jewison
WARNING: SPOILER and severe nausea-inducing factors straight ahead.
You'd have to search hard and dig deep to find a romantic comedy with a heroine dumber and more annoying than the waste-of-space-specimen heading up the cast of characters of ONLY YOU, Norman Jewison's beautifully-photographed Italian travelogue-cum-train wreck. Actually, that's doing her and the movie far too much justice. Faith Corvatch (Marisa Tomei) isn't even a half-baked character. Not even a quarter-baked. Hell, I think she's pretty much still all dough. It's as if someone took all the obnoxious character traits of your typical romantic comedy heroine - and all the obnoxious romantic comedy traits - and dumped them into this "script." Somehow, all the positive traits were forgotten.
We first meet Faith in a classroom teaching Italian to a bunch of private school kids. This is actually a very horrifying prospect because: (1) Faith, a supposed educator, is filling the students' heads with crap about destiny and soul mates and other stuff that most of us stopped believing in back in junior high, and (2) they will quite likely somehow retain some of this bullshit, even with the "did this bitch actually graduate from college?" looks they give each other.
Turns out that Faith has pretty much been a whackjob her whole life - and all because she knows who her, ahem, "soulmate" is supposed to be. See, when she was, like, twelve or something she and her brother used a Ouija board and asked it who she would marry. That answer is not Robert Redford, or Kevin Costner, or Russell Crowe, or Chris Evans - but the decidedly unknown "Damon Bradley." Which has got to be the most boring name ever. Later the same year, a five-and-dime gypsy at the local carnival tells Faith the same thing, and this is enough of a second opinion for her to basically chuck aside any grains of salt she might have had on the side as a precaution.
But time passes - as time does - and Faith grows up to be the lunatic teacher that we witnessed in the classroom, spreading bullshit about how "the gods cut us in half - split us right down the middle - and now we must find our way back to each other." Right. Clearly someone has been having too many SLEEPLESS IN SEATTLE/WHEN HARRY MET SALLY marathons. But instead of taking it all as just entertainment, she took that shit as if it were a training video on how to humiliate yourself in pursuit of an impossible ideal.
We find out that Faith is engaged to be married to Dwayne, a podiatrist who's quite boring. We know this because: (1) he looks boring, (2) he acts boring, (3) he talks boring, and (4) he even moves boring. Oh, and he might be somewhat of a prick to boot, because he conspires with his mom to have Faith wear her old wedding gown - without Faith knowing until very late in the game. Hence the "conspires" part. Naturally, Faith takes this about the same way she'd take the news that her wedding will be presided over by Dr. Kevorkian. In other words, not well.
All these petty concerns go out the window, though, when Faith gets a phone call from an old friend of Dwayne's who says that he can't make the wedding because he's on his way to Venice on a business trip, and apologizes profusely for it. None of which would normally matter, because having friends not make your wedding is not exactly a deal-breaker. Except when you're Faith Corvatch - and the friend's name is... Damon Bradley. Then you go: (1) apeshit-crazy, (2) grab your sister-in-law Kate (Bonnie Hunt) who's having marriage issues with your brother, (3) and buy two tickets to Italy - where you proceed to stalk Damon from Venice to Rome to Positano on the Amalfi Coast. And if you're the audience, you either: (1) shake your head at the dumb and dumber antics of Faith, (2) wonder how such a smart gal like Kate could have married into such a intellectually-impaired family as the Corvatches, (3) try to get some pleasure (futilely) out of Robert Downey Jr., who shows up as an American tourist who (why?) falls for Faith, or (4) try to focus on the gorgeous Italian countryside, which would still look lovely even through a mud-spattered windshield.
Does Faith catch up with Damon? Does he turn out to be Mr. Right? Does Robert Downey Jr. provide a reason for his character to fall for such a hopeless loon like Faith? Does Kate finally have enough of the kindergarten antics of her sister-in-law and ditch her to go back to the States? Does Faith realize what a dingbat she is and marry the boring podiatrist as punishment? Find out for yourself - but make sure it's through a dollar rental.
BUT, SERIOUSLY: There are two things that almost keep ONLY YOU from sinking into the "crap zone": (1) the breathtaking Italian scenery, and (2) Bonnie Hunt's exquisitely nuanced performance as Kate, the sensible and sardonic foil to Maria Tomei's irritatingly naive and histrionic nitwit of a heroine. Unfortunately, I can (1) look at all the videos and pictures I have of Italy if I am jonesing for all things Italiano, and (2) if I am jonesing for Bonnie Hunt, I can watch JERRY MAGUIRE, a movie where she wasn't the only good thing. So, in short, ONLY YOU fails to ascend from the "crap zone."
With the exception of Kate's world-weary take on relationships, nothing about this film is realistic. Even with the fairly contrived conventions of the romantic comedy genre, ONLY YOU still manages to come across as utterly slapdash and artificial. The main problem is a main character who is utterly lacking in charm. Faith Corvatch is such a "head-in-the-clouds" whiner that whatever goodwill I had for her was completely gone before she even hit Italy. The character might have had a chance with someone like Julia Roberts or Sandra Bullock or Meg Ryan playing her - someone who could make the character's flaws and foibles endearing. Unfortunately, as talented as Marisa Tomei is in most other roles (Ms. Tomei is an Oscar-winner and three-time nominee, after all), she just isn't cut out for this kind of role. When she tries to act all breathy and ethereal, she comes across as fake. When she tries to act feisty and formidable, she comes across as unlikable. Roberts, Bullock, or Ryan might have been able to manage the balancing act and keep audience sympathy, but Tomei - while exceedingly lovely - does not.
As Peter, the fellow yank who instantly falls for Faith, the normally-reliable Robert Downey Jr., is similarly unconvincing. It's never clear why Peter is knocked on his ass over her, and their interactions accordingly are both flat and false. What we have are two actors trying in vain to work with a story and characters that ultimately fail them both. Indeed, everytime Bonnie Hunt shows up as Kate, the two main stars suffer in comparison. And Hunt is not onscreen enough to redeem this film. Add to this the highly spurious message of the film - that if you just meet that "right person " everything will work out - and you basically have a film that is pat and artificial in all areas except for where Bonnie Hunt's character is concerned.
Pity... because that Italian scenery, and those Italians cavorting within it, are absolutely beautiful.
In honor of PIRANHA 3-D's release last weekend, next week's reviews will focus on older horror films and their recent modern remakes - some great, some okay, and some... well, let's just say, "Thank God for the FAST FORWARD button."
# 73 - THE HAUNTING : 1961 (AKA: THE CARETAKERS ARE CREEPIER THAN THE HOUSE)
# 74 - THE HAUNTING : 1999 (AKA: THE INTERIOR DESIGNER NEEDS TO CHECK INTO DETOX AND TAKE THE DIRECTOR WITH HIM.)
# 75 - JU-ON - THE GRUDGE : 2003 (AKA: THAT GLARE ALL YOU GOT, GHOST-BITCH? COME ON! BRING IT!)
# 76 - THE GRUDGE: 2004 (AKA: AMERICANS IN JAPAN EQUALS FUNNY DEATHS)
# 77 - MY BLOODY VALENTINE : 1981 (AKA: FALLING IN LOVE WITH A COAL-MINER IS MURDER)
# 78 - MY BLOODY VALENTINE : 2008 (AKA: GET YOUR FUCKING PICKAXE OUT MY POPCORN, DUDE!)
Busy weekend, busier week, thus far. So please excuse the tardiness of the Chick Flick Reviews... The following reviews shall post by Friday, August 27.
# 69 - ONLY YOU (1994)
# 70 - A GOOD YEAR (2006)
# 71 - EAT PRAY LOVE (2010)
# 72 - THE SWITCH (2010)
Also, the review list for this current week will be released shortly - and will all post over the coming weekend. If I could just learn to say "no" to the call of The Social Monster and The Vodka Fairy...
FLIPPED (2010 - FAMILY/ROMANCE) ***1/2 out of *****
(You're never too young to learn that love is more than just another four-letter word...)
CAST: Madeleine Carroll, Callan McAuliffe, Rebecca DeMornay, Anthony Edwards, Aidan Quinn, Penelope Ann Miller.
DIRECTOR: Rob Reiner
WARNING: Minimal SPOILERS and "he said, she said" shenanigans right up ahead.
Ah... love. What the hell is it? Why do we invest so much time and effort and angst into something so volatile and unpredictable? Where does its capability to turn us into googley-eyed idiots come from? Well, I'll tell you what, why, and where: it's because we humans are colossal masochists. We just don't know it. How else to explain an emotional act that is tantamount to putting on a blindfold, and then sticking your hand into a hole that could either be: (1) filled with soothing, calming, fragrant lavender water; or (2) a school of starving piranhas who also just happen to be having a really bad day? And, as our next review attests to, this self-mutilating tendency starts early in life.
FLIPPED is set in the 50's and tells the story of adolescents Juli Baker (Madeleine Carroll) and Bryce Loski (Callan McAuliffe), next door neighbors, and how a chaste love story develops between them over the years. Actually, the story pretty much starts out one-sided. It all begins when Bryce moves into the neighborhood as a 7-year old . Juli's family lives right next door, and the moving truck is just too big to escape Juli's sharp-eyed vigilance. She zooms over to offer her assistance in unloading the truck, friendly as bumblebee on ecstasy (and about as annoying), but Bryce's dad (Anthony Edwards) pretty much tell her to buzz off (Ha-Ha, get it? "Buzz" off...). Bryce, obviously a shit off the old block, basically gives Juli the stink-eye and shows that he will one day grow up to be man's man - by hiding behind his mom. Unfortunately, Juli makes the gargantuan mistake of interpreting this as shyness - and the chase is on, baby.
And so begins years of Juli doing the following to Bryce: (1) trailing after him in school like an adoring puppy-dog that just doesn't understand the meaning of "leave me the hell alone," (2) shooting him googley-eyes that would make even Satan blush, (3) sniffing his hair from behind him in class to soak in his "watermelon-scented" shampoo, (4) and making weekly deliveries of, um, fresh eggs to Bryce's doorstep. You see, Juli's family is one of them eccentric and quirky families that you find mostly in movies (or south Seattle) who have chickens in their back yards. And where there are chickens, there are eggs. And where there are eggs, there are unending offerings to the altar of the Brycemeister. And who gives a fuck about his cholesterol?
Unfortunately, Bryce doesn't quite treat these gifts in the way that Juli would like. Nope, at the behest of Dad the Asshole, he chucks those babies in the garbage every week - usually right after Julie drops them off. If you're thinking, "wow, that's cold," wait until you hear what happens when Juli finds out the truth at around the time they are 13. Basically, she ignores Bryce from then on, so hurt is she by the fact that her eggs haven't been used for egg salad at all, but rather to weigh down trash bags. Things get even chillier when Juli's favorite sycamore tree - which she would climb daily to, I guess, spy on Bryce - is chopped down, after Bryce fails to join her in an attempt to keep the city from toppling it.
That's the last straw. If you thought Catherine Trammell (BASIC INSTINCT), Elektra King (THE WORLD IS NOT ENOUGH), or Camille Montes (QUANTUM OF SOLACE) were dangerous ice princesses, those bitches ain't got nothin' on young Juli Baker, who basically proceeds to drive Bryce crazy by... ignoring him. Yup, she just goes about her daily life as if he doesn't exist, and as if she doesn't hear him when he speaks to her. Bryce, being a guy, gets some serious whiplash from this jarring (to say the least) 180 degree curve ball. The thought that the girl who panted after him since he was 7 now acts as if he's something that got stuck to the bottom of her shoes is, well, fucking scary. Wait, that would be an insult to things that actually get stuck on the bottom of Juli's shoes, because she actually takes the time to take care of those. Nope, Bryce is even lower than that in her regard now - if that's possible.
Not to spoil the story any further but - needless to say - being a man, Bryce spends the next year doing the following: (1) missing Juli somethin' fierce, (2) realizing he loves her after all, (3) and doing whatever it takes to win her back. Like a typical guy who didn't realize what he had when he had her. Which is, I guess, a stalker. Which is what he becomes to win her back. Hence the title. What? Did you think it was called FLIPPED because Bryce finally got sick of Juli blowing kisses at him and gave her the International Sign For Fuck Off and Die? Nope, it's because the dipshit ironically fell under her spell. Or as Nietzsche opined, "When being chased by someone like a fucking puppy, be careful that they don't pull any voo-doo crap on you, because you might just fall under their spell in the process - and end up chasing them like a fucking puppy." Or was that Hallmark. I forget. Whatever. Watch the movie. It's cute.
BUT, SERIOUSLY: Simple, sweet, and soulful, FLIPPED is a minimalist love story that gains a lot of mileage from taking the worn-out tale of "boy-meets-girl" and makes it fresh and timeless again by telling it from the point-of-view of two thirteen year olds. Honestly, I wasn't sure what to expect when a friend and I attended this screening. Part of me was hoping for a movie that would be about how the "The Finger" gesture evolved through history. But with Rob Reiner (STAND BY ME) directing and not Trey Parker and Matt Stone (SOUTH PARK), that's not likely to happen. What we got instead was a lovely romance that hits home because of its direct, no-frills presentation - and the truth at its core: love is crazy and knows no rules.
Madeleine Carroll and Callan McAuliffe are solid as the leads. Carroll, in particular, continues to prove what a find she is. Combine her work here with her performance as Kevin Costner's precocious daughter in SWING VOTE, and there's no denying her talent. In SWING VOTE, her believably touching relationship with Costner was the film's grand centerpiece - a feat that she is just as much responsible for pulling off as her talented and more experienced co-star. In FLIPPED she once again proves to be equal to the task of holding up her end of the screen. McAuliffe, whom I have never seen in anything else before, more than holds his own. He easily navigates the path from skittish and bashful in the first part of the film when Juli's attentions basically smother him, then to penitent and chastened when Juli turns her back on him after his betrayal, and finally to lovesick and soulful when he realizes just how much he really cares for her. McAuliffe makes Bryce's transformation seamless and exhilarating to follow.
The rest of the supporting cast is comprised of familiar and experienced faces: Aidan Quinn and Penelope Ann Miller as Juli's eccentric but modest parents; Anthony Edwards and Rebecca DeMornay as Bryce's borderline-snooty parents. The characters these veterans play have their own issues to deal with, but they graciously give center stage to the two young leads, never drawing too much attention from them. After all, this is Juli and Bryce's story.
So... the big question? Is Bryce only chasing after Juli because she stopped chasing him? Is he just proving the adage that the thrill is in the pursuit? Will he lose interest as soon as she gives in to him? Or does he really love her? Did he really love her all those years but was so intimidated by her actions that he buried it? Did he only realize it after he hurt her? Did this wake him up?
The thing is we'll never know. Because the movie's ending is actually the beginning of the real story. But FLIPPED's tagline provides a clue: "You Never Forget Your First Love."
