Thursday, May 16, 2013
Friday, May 11, 2012
Friday, May 4, 2012
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Edgar Allan Poe’s final week on earth is a mystery, even to this day. The Raven is a cinematic midrash of Poe’s last week alive. The sparkle of gorgeous costumes, the shine of lovely cinematography, and luminance of a strong supporting cast cannot escape the black hole that is John Cusack as Poe, the vacuum that is James McTeigue’s direction, and the suck that is Poe’s dialogue.
The much loved poet, but much loathed man Edgar Allan Poe (John Cusack) returned to Baltimore to win the hand of his love Emily Hamilton (Alice Eve). While he is in Baltimore, a killer uses his stories as a blueprint for killing and to get Poe’s attention. Poe’s personal connection to the killings goes far beyond that of inspiration to the killer.
There is something special about a movie that can transport you back in time and The Raven certainly does that. The sets scream late 1800’s America with hints of opulence and gobs of unfairness. The costumes are equally transportative. The costumes are like time machines for the audience wrapped around the actors.
The supporting cast saved The Raven from full cosmic collapse. Even though their dialogue was often unnatural and unconvincing, they delivered them with conviction. Kevin McNally is especially rewarding as Maddux, the editor of The Baltimore Patriot and verbal abuse victim of Poe. Luke Evans gave Detective Fields a professional passion that gave some depth and urgency to the movie. It was not their fault that writers Ben Livingston and Hannah Shakespeare provided them with a script that even the most obtuse person would realize is incredibly awkward and unnatural.
Livingston and Shakespeare wrote Poe like a thirteen year old stoner attempting to be sardonic but incapable because they lack the intelligence, depth, insight, or experience to take apart the self esteem of anyone without a suicide plan. As a result, Poe is constantly coming across as a dullard trying to come across like a literary genius, not a literary genius speaking down to lesser minds. I am certain Livingston and Shakespeare were trying to make Poe a total douche bag, but they don’t have the vinegar to fill the bag.
John Cusack does not give the character any sting or sour either. Endearing douche-baggery is a challenge for any actor to pull off successfully and Cusack fails at both. Cusack’s performance was as sharp and deep as a sock full of soup. He cannot muster the insecurity that makes sarcasm necessary, the malice to make it effective, or the impatience that comes with genius. Instead of embodying what they writers attempted to convey, he perfectly embodied and exaggerated what the writers actually created; a junior high schooler’s characterization of a meanie-pants.
James McTeigue should have worked with Cusack, Livingston and Shakespeare on giving the main character some depth. He was too busy ordering eyeball, teeth, and earring shots from the camera operators to bother improving Poe. Alice Eve’s eyes, the actor who plays the killer’s teeth and eyes all deserve their own credits. There must be fifteen minutes of slobbery teeth, and gushy eyeballs on screen.
About five minutes into the film, the man sitting next to me fell asleep and started snoring. We rode the elevator out of the theater together and he offered that he enjoyed the movie. Had sleep been part of my The Raven experience, I may have enjoyed it as well.
A pretty costume coating cannot change an overwhelming truth; The Raven is a masterful manifestation of mediocrity.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Thursday, July 22, 2010
CIA agent Evelyn Salt’s (Angelina Jolie) life is thrown into turmoil when her loyalty is questioned in front of her bosses by a man named Orlov (Daniel Olbrychski) who claims to be an agent high up in the Russian government. They accuse her of knowing about the murder of a Russian dignitary. Worse, she knows that her husband, a Mike Krause (August Diehl), a German arachnologist, is in danger from the people who think she’s betrayed them. Like a caged animal, she breaks out of her surroundings, to find her husband.
When I left the theater after seeing Salt, I all could hear was the eternally true expression; two wrongs don’t make a right. While the acting could pass as adequate, the writing and directing left that adage bouncing around my brain. The writing was shallow and lacking any emotional connection, even though it was obvious that there was an attempt to pull on our heart strings. Writer Kurt Wimmer tries to throw curveballs at the audience but only succeeds and t-ball quality pitches. The actions of the characters range from perplexing to downright strange.
The director, Phillip Noyce, couldn’t elevate the action scenes to a level to compensate for the thin writing. The actors, most of which were convincing and interesting, just had nothing to work with. They were like Olympic divers trying to do triple pikes off a six inch high diving board into a puddle; a bloody belly flop is inevitable.
Noyce should be nominated for the “Use of Stereotypes: Costumes Award”. One could create a drinking game around spotting a Russian. Every time he wants to plant an inference about Jolie’s character, or the other spy characters, there is a clumsy use of fur. American’s can’t be credited with the greatest international understanding, but even to us, using furry hats to tell us something about the character tells me that Noyce thinks we have the culture understanding of a bowl of soup.
I spent more time shifting in my seat than captivated. My fingernails suffered no nibbling from intense emotion but came out of the theater especially clean from the preening they experienced during Salt. I was so disinterested during Salt, I deliberately focus myself on the movie and had to stop myself from writing the review in my head in the cinema.
The ending of Salt left me shaking in fear. It was the only time in the movie that I felt truly, deeply rocked by emotion. Just as I could feel the wave of relief that the movie was finally coming to an end, the ending was a tsunami of terror washing away all my hope.
Angelia Jolie kicks major cross-continental ass, but the fight choreography and killings add nothing to the overall story. In the end she was the unfortunate Olympic diver. Salt’s answer the age old question: What’s worse than an action movie with no plot? A boring action movie with no plot.
Friday, July 2, 2010
While out hunting, Katara (Nicola Peltz) and her brother Sokka (Jackson Rathbone), of the water tribe, find a frozen sphere with a boy and his floating beast of burden inside. When he escapes the bubble, the brother and sister realize he is different. He is an airbender. Aang (Noah Ringer) is the last of the Air tribe. Aang is not just the last of his kind, he is what the world has been missing to keep the world in balance. When the leaders of the Fire Tribe realize Aang is alive, they dedicate their resources to hunting him down.
A bender is a person who can manipulate the elements of the earth. There are earth, fire, water and wind benders. They control the elements using what appear to be martial arts forms. Much of the movie is the characters using these forms. Occasionally the forms get a bit tiring because there is a disconnection between the motion and the effect, but generally, they are beautiful expressions of discipline. More than just the forms, the fight choreography is captivating. There are transitions between live and computer generated fights that are hard to spot.
In fact, there is no shortage of pristine aesthetics in The Last Airbender. Director and M. Night Shyamalan paid extraordinary and particular attention to the way movie’s visual story. The settings, across an entire world, are rich with cultures. Each group of people and place has their own clothing, terrain, and lifestyle. The differences between different places and people range from subtle to blaringly obvious.
Shyamalan’s most obvious point is that not respecting the sacred is not only immoral, but has world changing consequences. As an atheist, I spent the entire second half of the movie rolling my eyes at how evil those who do not respect the gods are portrayed. M. Night Shyamalan’s opinion about atheists is that 1: We put power first, 2: we don’t care about the world, and 3: we will take, take, take without remorse. It wasn’t enough for him to show spirits that show up for work, it was not enough to show the heroes as warriors of their spirits, no. He had to go a step further, showing those lacking a reverence for the supernatural beings of this realm as so ruthless that they are willing to sacrifice everything for power. Shyamalan can blame us evil atheists all he wants to, but he is only showing his complete inability to escape the restraints of his faith, not the truth of the matter.
The thinly veiled theological biases aside, The Last Airbender is full of lines dumped in the middle or end of a scene that make no sense. Twenty minutes will go by, I’d be lost in the beauty of the movie and the kung fu, when BAAM – a line, usually delivered with all sincerity but horrible timing, that made me go cross-eyed. In one particularly memorable scene, out of nowhere, one character waits fifteen seconds after the last line is delivered and then orders another character to do something so obvious, it didn’t need to be said. She might as well have said during a fight, “Hit that guy.” Every time one of those dump sentences popped up, I checked out for a moment, unable to suspend my disbelief. M. Night Shyamalan then had to earn my trust again, taking time and energy that should have been applied to being emotionally involved in the story.
If you are a theist who wants to watch fights in pretty places, The Last Airbender is just the movie for you. For my ten bucks though, I demand writing that doesn’t make it impossible to care about the story.