Sherlock Holmes (2009)

Review:

If you want to know what Guy Ritchie’s “Sherlock Holmes” is like, imagine “Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels” or “Snatch” and then put them in the late 1800s and add Sherlock Holmes. If you are imagining the most kinetic cinematic rendition of “Sherlock Holmes” ever, you’re probably not far off the mark.

Indeed, “Sherlock Holmes” doesn’t relent too much. It keeps a rapid pace and doesn’t quite care if you’re not connecting the dots as quickly as Sherlock Holmes. Robert Downey Jr. plays Holmes with a sort of manic dishevelment. His own living quarters at 221B are a mess but his mind is forever organizing minute details and usually alienating a friend or two in the process.

Watson (Jude Law) is an intelligent sidekick, always feeling obliged to lend a hand or a prognosis. Instead of the typically daft Watson of cinema history, Law plays Watson with a certain cunning and wry humor that a hero like Holmes desperately needs.

The plot of the film seems half baked. It concerns an evil occult leader Lord Blackwood (Mark Strong) who is hanged for murdering five women in a sacrificial ritual. When Blackwood mysteriously returns from the grave, Holmes is called in to investigate. As is typical in all mysteries, the villain gets away with a bunch of crimes is foiled before he can perpetrate the biggest crime he was intending to commit the whole time. Sorry if I gave away that this film ends with Holmes triumphant.

The real strength of “Sherlock Holmes” is its look and energy. The sets are marvelously macabre and Ritchie does a good job synthesizing them with a CGI rendition of 1800s London. The cinematography is energetic but never confuses the action – I particularly enjoyed when Sherlock Holmes anticipates his next eight moves in a fight and then executes them with flawless precision. I also liked a scene in a butchery that served as a throwback to the old silent film cliché of a damsel in distress tied up and being conveyed towards a buzz saw.

Rachel McAdams plays Ira Adler, the presumed love interest of Holmes but she seems more like an afterthought; her only real purpose in the film is to give precedent for a sequel. But in the end, if you can just sit back and relax, “Sherlock Holmes” is pure popcorn and you’ll like it.

Rating:

On a scale of one to Casablanca this film is a “Matrix Reloaded” (2003).

Rationalization:

Don’t enter this movie thinking that by its end you’ll come out wiser, or better, or more thoughtful, or with your thoughts provoked. “Sherlock Holmes” is an action movie with a slight mystery at its center. There are some excellent sequences and great one-liners, but it never instills you with the same terror or wonder that you find in other mysteries like “Rear Window” (1954) or “Se7en” (1995) but it is way better than most action movies coming out today (i.e. “G.I. Joe: Rise of Cobra” (2009))

Christiane F. (1981)

Review:

I will be the first to admit I’ve been watching a lot of movies about drug addiction lately. It all started when I watched “Bad Lieutenant” (1992) and saw how truly horrific, poetic, and informative a movie like this can be. “Christiane F.” (1981) is another such horror story. If “Bad Lieutenant” can be considered a film about ascension, “Christian F.” would be a chronicle of the descent.

The story is a simple one and has been told countless times in film (“Traffic (2000),” “Requiem for a Dream,” (2000)). It’s about a girl who becomes addicted and to feed her addiction turns to prostitution. What makes “Christiane F.” such a remarkable film is the stark realism with which it is told, and the fact that Christiane (Natja Brunckhorst) is 14.

Bored with her life and living in Berlin with her oft absent mother, Christiane begins her descent by first visiting a night club where she experiments with valium and LSD. She meets a boy her age named Detlev (Thomas Haustein) who is addicted to heroine. One night after a David Bowie Concert (David Bowie plays himself and provides the film with its soundtrack) Christiane smokes some heroine and is soon thereafter hooked.

She soon finds out that Detlev funds his junky lifestyle by prostituting himself to men on the street. Instead of taking this as maybe a warning, Christiane learns from his behavior and quickly becomes a prostitute herself.

What is so harrowing about this film is not the story itself but the images it evokes: a man jumping over a bathroom stall to steal Christiane’s fix, a subway station filled with zombie-like youths, and perhaps the most startling vomit scene since “The Exorcist” (1973).

I think the image that will stick with me most is when Detlev and Christiane go through a withdrawal together. Their sweaty bodies churn on the bed, they heave and moan, and it all looks like a living hell. This scene is made all the more potent and painful by the scenes that directly follow. You realize how gripping their illness really is.

If ever you consider trying heroine please, please, please first see this movie. And if you can’t find this movie, go read “Naked Lunch.”

Review:

On a scale of one to Casablanca this film is a “Moolaade” (2004)

Rationalization:

“Christiane F.” is a film that works as a compelling story but also as a PSA. Its message is real and its purposes are not exploitation. It does not make the lifestyle of a junky look cool in the least. The film is littered with the sketchiest of places – bathrooms, subway stations, run down apartments and club basements – and these settings match the junky’s quality of life. When released in 1981 “Christiane F.” was a massive hit with the younger audiences, hopefully for the right reasons. The film exposed the underbelly of drug culture in Berlin and hopefully opened many eyes to a plague that exists all around us. It’s also a true story.

Me, Myself, and Irene (2000)

Review:

“Me, Myself, and Irene” (2000) is a bitter attempt to put the ol’ comic spin on ‘Doctor Jeckyl and Mr. Hyde.” Unfortunately, while not necessarily having a bad premise, “Me, Myself and Irene” descends into that realm of shocking jokes that shock for the sake of being shocking and ultimately wind up being not that shocking at all. When, in the first twenty minutes of the film there is a shot of Jim Carrie relieving his bowels on a neighbors lawn and a cut away to chocolate soft serve ice cream, well, not much else is going to phase you in a film.

Jim Carrie plays Charlie, an outlandishly nice state police officer from Rhode Island. Due to his incessant niceness, everyone in his community abuses and uses poor Charlie, including his wife who leaves him for a black midget limousine driver. This leaves Charlie with a lot of pent up rage and three black children to raise. As these things tend to go, Charlie snaps and unleashes his alter ego Hank who is a ripe bastard and terrorizes the town and everyone he meets. The first few scenes with Hank probably merit the biggest laughs of the entire picture.

Eventually, Irene (Renee Zellweger) comes to town and must be transported back to New York State to be arrested and of course, Charlie/Hank is given the task of escorting her upstate. As you can probably guess, both Charlie and Hank want to sleep with Renee Zellweger and so the film locks into a semi-amusing love triangle consisting of Jim Carrie’s elastic faces and Renee Zellweger.

Also, some guys are chasing Renee Zellweger for some reason. I wish I could elaborate on why, but frankly, I have no idea and don’t care enough to read the synopsis on IMDb. The bad guys somewhat irrelevant to the focus of the film and only serves as a means to keep Charlie and Irene on the run (the guys that are chasing them are Chris Cooper and Richard Jenkins, two great actors, here choosing throwaway roles).

And so, for most of the film, we find ourselves watching Jim Carrie make jokes about dildos and killing a cow. As per usual, Carrie’s physical work is impressive and his zaniness is appreciated, but the content is utterly sub-par. This is the second time Jim Carrie has worked with the Farrelly Brothers and it is my recommendation you stick to their first collaboration.

Rating:

On a scale of one to Casablanca this film is a “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III”

Rationalization:

The whole time I was sitting there I kept thinking ‘Come on, lets get better. You can do it. Come on” but it just didn’t get better. The highest praise I can bestow upon this film is that it has some amusing gags. Probably my favorite part of “Me, Myself, and Irene” was Charlie’s street talking and intelligent children discussing their prospects for college. Then again, these characters later sodomize a cop with a chicken. In another movie, that would be horribly disturbing. Here it tries to pass as humor.

(Don’t worry, this is not to suggest the Ninja Turtles rape people with chickens. It is not the ninja way to do such things)

Up in the Air (2009)

Review:

Jason Reitman’s “Up in the Air” has been described as a story for today, a meditation on loneliness, and a dissertation on how globalization has at once made the world smaller and much larger. My dad thought the movie was about rejection. I thought the movie was about settling for less. Some see it as a film about careers; others see it as a film about opportunity. All these assessments are true and work in accord with one another, making a surprisingly potent film. Such is the wonder of Reitman’s third feature picture.

George Clooney plays Ryan Bingham, a self described “Termination Facilitator.” Companies hire him to come and lay off their employees in a time of downsizing. Bingham spends a vast majority of his year flying from city to city, staying in a new hotel each night. Along the way he meets the sexy Alex Goran (Vera Farmiga), another professional traveler who also shares a love for life on the road. They hook up and soon after whip out their computers to find when they’ll be in the same town again.

Matters are complicated when Natalie Keener (Anna Kendrick), a recent college graduate, comes to Bingham’s company and introduces the practice of firing people over the web. Feeling his road warrior lifestyle is threatened Bingham takes Keener on the road to show her the ropes of their field. Anna Kendrick, most notably having played Jessica in the “Twilight Saga” shines like a true star in this film. She has a meltdown in a hotel lobby that is comedic gold.

As can be expected, George Clooney plays Bingham with that confidence so customary to a George Clooney role - and yet, this time his confidence is severely challenged. He plays a man that must face times that are changing faster than he is willing to change himself.

“Up in the Air” is all inclusive concerning the facets of how we live today. It ranges in topic from our post 9/11 insecurities to the inner depths of unemployment and ultimately to the incontrovertible fact that we die alone. This film is not a comedy, though it has several laughs. It is a consideration of what we need to live happily and how hard those things are to obtain.

Rating:

On a scale of one to Casablanca, this film is a “Fargo” (1996).


Rationalization:

I entered the movie theater expecting to have an uplifting comedy that would reassure me everything would be ok. As it turns out, “Up in the Air” is not that movie, and consequently, I left the theater feeling sucker punched in the jaw. Not a hard sucker punch, but one I wasn’t expecting. In fact, I would go so far as to say I was feeling blue after seeing this movie for the first time. “Up in the Air” resonated with me. It made me feel something and made me feel deeply. What more can I ask from a movie?

Bad Lieutenant (1992)

Review:

I won’t lie. I didn’t know about this movie until I heard about Werner Herzgog’s remake “Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call, New Orleans.”. I saw the trailer for Herzgog’s film and thought it looked hilarious and twisted - a movie about the most corrupt cop imaginable, starring Nicholas Cage. Then I found out the film was a remake and the original “Bad Lieutenant” starred Harvey Keitel and was praised by Martin Scorsese and Roger Ebert as one of the best films of the year. I had never heard of it, so it naturally became a curiosity. I decided to check it out.

What I found was one of the most distressing and profound movies about drug addiction I have ever seen. I’ll brag about my chops for a second – I’ve seen “Traffic” (2001) and “Requiem For a Dream,” (2000) I’ve seen “Trainspotting” (1996) and “Pineapple Express” (2008) but none of these drug films had the gut wrenching impact of “Bad Lieutenant.”

At the heart of “Bad Lieutenant” are two questions: Can we be redeemed? And if yes, should we be redeemed? Like with most good films, there is no definitive answer in the movie, just ideas.

The plot is deceptively simple. Keitel plays the nameless Lieutenant. He is addicted to crack, compulsively gambles, and is a sexual deviant. His wife and children all but ignore him and he meanders haplessly through the seedy underbelly of New York City, a lost and dangerous sinking ship.

When a nun is brutally raped the Lieutenant begins a muddled investigation into the case. He is soon confronted with a personal crisis of faith when he learns that the Nun has forgiven her assailants; that she will not testify against them even though she knows who they are. The Lieutenant has never seen such an act of grace and it launches him into actions that might suggest salvation is possible for anyone, even for him.

Rating:

On a scale of One to Casablanca, this film is a “The Third Man.”

Rationalization:

“Bad Lieutenant” explores the sewers of the world and the people who walk in them. It is a case study in how low our species can sink into depravity. The film looks on in awe at humanity’s most despicable and noble qualities, suggesting that perhaps our vices and virtues are two sides of the same coin – that coin being the human soul, of course. All the while, “Bad Lieutenant” shocks you, it repulses you, and most importantly it makes you think.

Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer (1986)

Review:

This is the only film that has ever offended my college roommate Robby. Although, I’m not sure offended is the right word. Perhaps a better word is ‘disgusted.’ Now, a little background on Robby – I lived with him for two years in College and I can say assuredly that his sense of humor is the most depraved, raunchy, and vile I have ever encountered. Needless to say, we had a lot of good laughs together. So when Robby told me about how this film affected him, I decided I had to see it. What sort of sick phantasmagoric film would this have to be to upset Robby?

So I watched it on the same day I watched “Bad Lieutenant.” They could have been a double feature together.

“Henry” had a rocky start. No distribution company was willing to distribute it. It was too violent and horrific for the 1986 crowd. By 1989 it finally found a distributor and has since gone on to receive substantial edits and censorship for its various home video releases.

Now having seen it, I understand why it has such a notorious reputation, but in the end, I didn’t feel all that affected by it. Maybe I’m desensitized more than I realize (probably) or maybe the movie simply isn’t that great.

Directed by John McNaughton, “Henry” unflinchingly tells the tale of Henry (Michael Rooker), a man who kills for no other reason that to kill. Henry’s roommate Ottis soon joins him on his violent escapades. All the while, Ottis’ sister Becky finds some attraction to Henry but remains oblivious to his bloody hobbies.

There is one particularly infamous scene in which Henry and Ottis slaughter an entire family and videotape the massacre. This scene is emblematic of the whole film. It is an unblinking portrayal of realistic, unequivocal violence. These types of murders really exist. You can read about them in the news every day.

My problem with this film does not lay with the violence or tone of the film. It derives from the character study itself. Henry is unchanging and therefore uninteresting. When we meet him he is a violent killer and when we leave him he is a violent killer. He is never pursued by the police or forced to confront himself. There is a brief scene where he stares into a bathroom mirror, perhaps trying to look into his soul, but that’s about all the introspection we get out of him.

This movie reminds me of a poor man’s “No Country for Old Men.” Its statement is that evil exists in everyday life in a very real way, but the film never allows any elbow room for the moral parameters that allow us to engage and feel moved by a character. I never felt much about Henry at all.


Rating:

On a scale of one to Casablanca, this film is “Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith.”


Rationalization:

I really, really wanted to care for this one like I’ve cared for films before, but it just didn’t move me like I wanted it to. In the grand scheme of things, “Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer” almost does the trick but falls short. I don’t care how artsy the film, in order to have an effective story, someone in the story needs to change – even if it’s just the dog. .
Without change you have a static image of a human being and that’s not a story, th

Bridget Jones's Diary (2001)

Review:

You know, this is a nice movie, and that’s about the end of it. As far as the subgenre of Romantic Comedies goes, it is no “Annie Hall” (1977) or “When Harry Met Sally” (1988) but “Bridget Jones’s Diary” holds its own.

Probably the greatest asset to this movie is Renee Zellweger’s performance as Bridget Jones. There has been a rising trend this millennium to depict women not as vamp, prostitute, or virgin, but as the insecure, imperfect semi-attractive type who has long existed in our social circles but until recently, had not made it to the big screen. The immediate example that comes to mind is Tina Fey’s character on the show “30 Rock” Liz Lemon. You could argue that in some regards, Bridget Jones is the mold from which Liz Lemon was cast.

In most films, the female character’s humor is derived from wit, unintelligence, or sexual prowess. In “Bridget Jones’s Diary” the humor comes from Bridget Jones’s constant struggle with herself. She is slightly overweight, she smokes and drinks too much, she is unlucky in love and not quite a wordsmith. How she blunders her way through various social gatherings and situations provides for us the laughs. In one particularly funny scene, Bridget has been invited to a “Tarts and Vicars” party. She arrives dressed as a Playboy bunny only to find that, unbeknownst to her, the theme of the party has changed to a semi-formal affair. Some of the best scenes are simply Bridget’s attempts at self-improvement. I liked Bridget Jones.

And then come the men. Hugh Grant and Colin Firth play the base to Bridget’s love triangle. Hugh Grant is Daniel Cleaver, Bridget’s boss whom she begins an affair with after flirting via email. Firth plays Mark Darcy, a lawyer and childhood friend of Bridget’s. They meet again at a holiday party and Bridget promptly makes a fool of herself. And so with the two opposing men in place, the plot spins into action with the looming question: who will Bridget choose?

One of my pet peeves with movies like this is how nothing seems as important to the heroine as finding a good man and keeping him. This is not necessarily a bad premise for a film, I just feel it limits the character’s potential just like any woman who measures her worth by men will limit her own potential. Its no that I didn’t enjoy the performances by Firth and Grant (I have a very soft spot in my heart for Hugh Grant), its rather that I would have liked to see Bridget get her life together without the main incentive being to find a good man.

But, I suppose in the end, if a film decides to be a romantic comedy, you must accept it and appreciate it for what it is. And “Bridget Jones’s Diary” is funny even if it does boil down to a formula. I guess I just want to see a popular comedy where the woman’s life doesn’t revolve around her men.

Rating:

On a scale of one to Casablanca, this film is a “Die Hard 3”

Rationalization:

It’s entertaining and should be seen if you can. If you’re a die hard (ha!) Romcom fan, it’s a must. But does it move the cosmos and rearrange our perception of time, does it make us really think and grasp for inner truths? No, not really. It’s a fine entertainment, and ultimately that’s just fine.

Bad Lieutenant - Port of Call: New Orleans (2009)

Review:

In Werner Herzgog’s “Bad Lieutenant – Port of Call: New Orleans” Nicholas Cage represents a brutal incarnation of New Orleans, post-Hurricane Katrina. He is a mess, brutally confused and thrown into a downward spiral, in part because of the hand he’s been dealt in life.

I admit, I have not seen many Herzgog films – only “Grizzly Man” – and he’s a director that’s been on my ‘to do’ list. I always find it interesting though, when a foreign director does a film about America and its culture. Holding the outsiders perspective, they are able to see and convey things we might not understand about ourselves. “Bad Lieutenant – Port of Call: New Orleans” strikes me as a film made by a foreigner, foremost because it depicts a progressive stance on a demonized illness called drug addiction.

Most films about drug addiction follow the same trend. They track the downward spiral of their subjects and it invariably ends in redemption or failure, sobriety or death. There seems to be no middle ground – and indeed, there may not be– but what I like about “Bad Lieutenant” is that it stops short of a final resolution for Cage’s character. One of my favorite lines in this movie is one of the last lines: “I have good days and I have bad days,” a sentiment all addicts can understand.

The plot of “Bad Lieutenant” isn’t as essential to the film as its overall feel. The film takes place in a brooding New Orleans. Nicholas Cage plays Terence McDonagh, a police officer who, in the immediate aftermath of Katrina, injures his back while rescuing a prisoner trapped in a flooded jail cell. His doctor prescribes him Vicodin for the pain and six months later McDonagh is addicted to cocaine (and whatever else he can get ahold of). The central story in the film is McDonagh’s investigation into the drug-related homicide of a family. But this isn’t really important. The central story is really the chaos of McDonagh’s life. He spends his days stealing from the evidence room, stealing from drug dealers, snorting drugs, and gambling away money he doesn’t have. His only refuge seems to be found in his prostitute girlfriend Frankie (Eva Mendes) who provides a sense of understanding and security for his entropic soul.

“Bad Lieutenant – Port of Call: New Orleans” by no means approves of McDonagh’s behavior but it regards him with a certain sense of wonder and sympathy. I think the grander message in “Bad Lieutenant” is that drug addicts are like flooded New Orleans – in need of our help but more often than not, brushed aside.

Rating: On a scale of one to Casablanca, this film is a “The Shining” *

Rationalization:

Any film that knows its characters in spite of their irrationality or inexplicability creates a powerful portrait. Knowing that some dark nights in the human soul are unknowable is one aspect of a great character study. Nicholas Cage works up a fine frenzy in “Bad Lieutenant – Port of Call: New Orleans,” and in the end, despite his addictions and illicit behaviors, when he asks “Do fish dream?” we smirk because beneath all his malevolence he is just another of God’s wounded creatures.

*it is duly noted this film is a semi-remake of Abel Ferrara’s 1992 film “Bad Lieutenant” but aside from the obvious fact that they portray drug addled cops these films are very dissimilar in theme and story.

The Cook, the Thief, His Wife & Her Lover (1989)

Review:

I had never heard of this film until I happened upon a review of it by Roger Ebert. Usually trusting the famous critic, the enthusiastic review intrigued me enough to seek out the film. It also didn’t hurt that Helen Mirren (the Queen) and Michael Gambon (Dumbeldore) are the stars.

“The Cook, the Thief, His Wife & Her Lover” tells the tale of these four characters. Each night, Albert the Thief (Michael Gambon) and his Wife Georgina (Helen Mirren) eat at the same elegant restaurant with Albert’s cronies and yes men. They are served exquisite French food by Richard the Cook (Richard Bohringer), a man quietly reserved and compassionate. On one particular evening Georgina spots a stranger reading a book quietly at a table. This is Michael (Alan Howard) and he will soon become her lover.

Based on this set up alone it sounds like innumerable other films. We already know what is to happen: the terrible husband will find out about the affair and all hell will break lose and lives will almost certainly be lost. Essentially, this is what happens. But the way in which it happens makes this movie like no other movie I have ever seen – both in its brilliant visuals and in its shear audacity.

The visuals make “The Cook” et al. a feast for the eyes. Director and Writer Peter Greenaway employs the camera with such repetitive and strategic precision that when the camera behaves in a certain way, for instance making a long dolly from the interior of the restaurant into the kitchen, a particular sense of horror descends upon the viewer (I’ll get to the horror in a moment). The camera is moving along willingly with the action, but you’re not sure you want to go with it.

The set pieces are masterful and otherworldly. Most of the film takes place at the restaurant – in the dining hall, the kitchen, the bathroom, and parking lot. Each area has a specific color that dominates the scene. The dining hall is red to represent danger, the kitchen is green to represent safety and so on and so forth. So like the movements of the camera, the colors also cue the audience into how it should be feeling at a particular moment. Nothing good ever happens in the dining room or the parking lot and you learn this very quickly.

Now, on to the horror and audacity of “The Cook, the Thief, His Wife and Her Lover:” I cannot recall a film viewing experience when my mouth has been more agape for a longer period of time. Albert the Thief is perhaps the most heinous villain I have ever seen in a motion picture. Nothing he does has even a morsel of kindness in it. He is violent, pig headed, rude and ignorant and he is the centerpiece of this film. From beginning to end, there is hardly one act of depravity that he does not commit – including cannibalism and torturing a child. This really is one of the most horrific movies I have ever seen.

And yet…

And yet this is one of the most beautiful films I have ever seen also. It is surely haunting and I will never be able to erase some of the images it branded in my head, but it is still such a gorgeous film. When I watched it, I kept thinking Quentin Tarantino and Wes Anderson must both have seen this movie and taken it to heart.

I realize, I have not mentioned much about the Cook and how he relates to the lover’s triangle. About him I will say this – without the Cook, this movie would be an exercise in depicting cruelty in a beautiful way. The Cook is the spirit of compassion and mercy. Without him and his crucial decisions throughout the film, there would be nothing to save and the Thief would reign supreme.

Rating:

On a scale of one to Casablanca, this film is a “Gosford Park” (2002)

Rationalization:

This film creates such a definitive world in its two hour span. It is clearly not based in the real world, and yet somehow you end up believing in it and fearing it just like it was the real world.“The Cook, the Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover” is an extraordinary example of completely enthralling cinema. If you fall in its trance, no matter how much you want to turn away, you can not. It is too thought provoking and horrifying. You will get lost in this world and leave unsettled. Good luck to those who get through it.

I just realized both “The Cook” and “Gosford Park” have Michael Gambon as stars. Who knew?

Igby Goes Down (2002)

Review:

“The sharp edge of a razor is difficult to pass over; thus the wise say the path to Salvation is hard” -Katha Upanishad

This is the epigraph to Somerset Maugham’s novel “The Razor’s Edge,” a book Igby refers to in passing during the course of the film. It is an epigraph that also would fit “Igby Goes Down,” the closest adaptation of Salinger’s “Catcher in the Rye” the cinema has ever seen.

Igby (Kiernan Culkin) is a career ne’er do well. He has flunked out of several of the east coast’s finest private schools and lives permanently in the shadow of his over achieving brother Oliver (Ryan Phillipe) and his cruelly domineering mother (Susan Sarandon). When faced with another term at a private school, Igby decides to run away and hide out in New York City. He squats in the studio of Rachel (Amanda Peet), a troubled artist addicted to heroine and inclined towards abrupt, casual sex. Claire Daines plays Sookie, a lover and kindred soul for Igby – the type of girl that might be good for Igby if Igby really knew what was good for himself. Jeff Goldblum plays D.H. – a New York real estate tycoon and Igby’s Godfather.

All of these characters form a tapestry of relationships predicated on alienation and sexual encounters. No one in this film is exactly a nice character but you can sympathize with almost everybody.

As D.H. Jeff Goldblum has the second most intriguing role behind Igby. Here is a man we never quite figure out, but we see clearly he is Igby’s antithesis and Oliver’s role model. D.H. is a vicious man with an air of aristocratic fakery that Igby loathes.

And then at the heart of this film there is Igby’s father Jason (Bill Pullman). Seen mostly in flashbacks, we come to understand that Igby loves his father with a compassion he could never find for his mother. When Jason exhibits a schizophrenic meltdown in front of young Igby, it left the boy traumatized.

“Igby Goes Down,” like “Catcher in the Rye,” “The Razor’s Edge” and so many similar stories before it, is ultimately about trying to outrun death and the final impossibility of it. Igby rejects his private schools, his upper class lifestyle, and his family in a vain attempt to reject and distance himself from the tragic descent of his father.

As can be expected, Igby seeks refuge in New York City and finds no refuge at all.

Rating:

On a scale of one to Casablanca, this film is a “Harvey” (1950)

Rationalization:

This film is a contemporary documentation of that timeless quest to find something outside of the self – expression of the hope that you are not the end of the line for you. I think everyone goes on this soul-search now and again, maybe not in as dramatic a way as Igby or Elwood, but nonetheless. And this is why stories like “Igby Goes Down” work on a fundamental level. It speaks to the fears and dreams about escaping who we are in an attempt to understand life better. Can such a thing actually be done? Probably not, but is the journey itself worth it? Maybe.

Lolita (1962)

Review:

Stanley Kubrick’s Lolita seems to me a work in progress. I may also be biased because I am such a fan of Nabokov’s novel. His book swirls with passion and whimsy and darkness; it’s a lyrical novel whose controversial material would make it hard for anyone to translate into a visual medium. With this in mind, Kubrick’s Lolita is a strong attempt at forging film history, but Kubrick had not yet perfected the poetical cinematography of his later films.

The story of Lolita is widely known and ultimately simple. A European scholar, Humbert Humbert (played by the stoic yet vulnerable James Mason) takes up residence in the house of a widow and her teenage daughter, Lolita. While living there, Humbert becomes obsessed with Lolita (Sue Lyon). For lack of a better word, he falls in love with the young girl, who is aware of his infatuation and even takes advantage of it. In one revealing scene Lolita asks Humbert to eat a piece of scrambled egg from her hand. Hesitantly, this college professor bends to her will, eating the egg from her hand like a dog.

Eventually, by unlikely circumstances I will not go into, Lolita and Humbert become lovers and end up traveling the country together. The brilliance of the story resides not in the actual events, which sometimes have the tendency to become melodramatic, but in the relationship of Humbert and Lolita. Kubrick and Nabakov (who wrote the screenplay) concisely convey the conflict in becoming both father and lover to the same person.

But the film does not move with ease. Kubrick or his editor find it necessary to fade to black after nearly every scene. These fades make the movie seem to be linked as vignettes, not a flowing whole. It feels jumpy. This is troublesome when compared with the concise poetic rhythm of Nabakov’s prose in the original novel. I know it is not right to compare a film to a book as they should be judged by different criteria. But the reason Lolita the novel succeeds is that the language allows you to understand how a scholar like Humbert could slide so far and so easily into a pedophilic relationship; the poetry disguises the crime, and that’s precisely the point; its what makes Humbert understandable. Kubrick and Nabakov, in this film, do not capture that same poetry that can render Humbert sympathetic to the audience. Humbert’s love seems abrupt and his jealousy seems even more so. If Kubrick had already possessed the fluid grace, and poetry of 2001: A Space Odyssey, Lolita may have been a great film. As it stands, it is a very good film, but not one to change the course of history.


Rating:

On a scale of one to Casablanca this film is a "Gangs of New York" (2002)

Rationalization:

"Lolita" is a valid attempt at capturing a notion of good and evil that floats adrift in space. Although it is mere speculation, I believe if Kubrick had made "Lolita" at the heigh of his career, it could have been an absolute masterpiece. I believe this for two reasons - 1) In 1962, Kubrick was approaching but had not hit his artistic stride. With his next film, "Doctor Strangelove," he would find a voice full and confident and never look back. Unfortunately "Lolita" missed this train. 2) The early 60's was not a good time for films with the potential to scandalize. If "Lolita" had been made in the 1970s or 80s Kubrick would have been able to be more explicit about the sexual relationship between Humbert and Lolita and the film would have triumphed.

Idle Hands (1999)

Review

“As usual, marijuana saves an otherwise disastrous day,” exclaims a character at one point in Rodman Flender’s "Idle Hands". Indeed, marijuana may have saved their day, but it certainly doesn’t save this movie. There are two reasons I decided to watch this film: 1) I was bored, tired, and it was on. 2) It has the enjoyable Seth Green in it. With these criteria in mind, it was a reasonably entertaining film. But holding it up to the higher standards of the horror-comedy genre, "Idle Hands" doesn’t make the grade.

The film opens with promise. A middle-aged couple gets in bed, talk briefly about their lazy son Anton, and then turn off the light. Then the wife screams. On their ceiling in glowing blue tape reads “I am under the bed.” I won’t go into any details, but needless to say, both of these people end up dead. The lighting in this opening sequence is also quite eerie, reminding me of Mario Bava’s “The Drop of Water” from his film "Black Sabbath" (1963). But after this promising open, Idle Hand takes a turn for the worse.

We meet the lazy son, Anton (Devon Sawa) who has dropped out of school in order to smoke more pot and watch TV. His two best friends, Mick and Pnumb (Seth Green and Elden Henson) are about as lazy as Anton, save that they still go to school. Anton also pines after the cute neighborhood girl, Molly (Jessica Alba) but is too shy to talk with her. This of course, is all rudimentary comic set up –losers try to find a way to hook up with a hot girl. But Idle Hands has a twist. You see, it turns out Anton has been so lazy that the devil has possessed his right hand and now that hand kills people without the consent or control of Anton. Thus with the rudimentary comic set up combined with the evil murdering hand, we are supposed to have a comic-horror movie. Unfortunately the movie proves far too uneven.

Idle Hands would have done better with its content if it had stuck to either comedy or horror. As a comedy, there is only so far a murdering hand can take you for laughs. As a horror film, the secret is out too early that Anton’s hand is the killer. It does not allow for the gap in knowledge that makes a scene or a movie really scary. The only consistently good aspect of this film is a non-sequitor of a decision. Anton kills his friends Mick and Pnub very early in the movie. But they somehow come back from the dead after refusing to go to heaven. Seth Green and Elden Henson steal the show by simply becoming stoner zombies who frolic through the film completely aware of their undead nature, and yet not caring. They are the spirit of comedy-horror in this film. Not the hand.

Oh yes, and Vivica A. Fox plays a secret priestess who’s life mission is to kill devil possessed hands. This role is a Tarantino-character wannabe and proves it. So on the whole, "Idle Hands" is harmless drivel that might have been more. I suppose thats the fate of a lot of films though.


Rating:

On a scale of one to Casablanca this film is a "Jurassic Park 3"

Sometimes you just watch a film and ask "Why? Why?!" and often times if you've watched a film long enough to ask that monosyllabic question, you realize there is some potential brimming under the surface. If there's no potential in a film, you've probably turned it off long before you could even formulate an exasperated question about the film. I didn't turn off "Idle Hands." Nay, I watched the entire thing, and even did laugh on occasion. But in the end, the experience left me feeling like I had watched nothing but a missed opportunity to be better.

The Bad News Bears (1976)

Review:

Kids are universally unpredictable, inconsistent, and undisciplined. Perhaps that is why there never seems to be a want of material when it comes to sports movies about kids. But so often, kids in sports teams fall into terrible clichés –the rebel kid who’s also the best player on the team, the girl who is usually the second best player on the team, the abused kid that doesn’t stick up for himself, the runt; the list goes on. But director Michael Ritchie’s The Bad News Bears transcends the genre (perhaps in part because it helped invent it) by realizing kids are more nuanced people than we often give them credit for.

The movie’s success rests entirely in Walter Matthau, a career grump, who never ceases to amuse. Matthau plays Coach Morris Buttermaker, a minor league baseball has-been who is hired by a father who’s son did not make the little league baseball cut that year. Buttermaker, a boozer and cigar smoker always short of cash, takes the job reluctantly and without any heart. You get the sense that deep down this is a man who loves baseball but has had his heart broken by it. The world of professional sports has exiled him to a career of cleaning pools and coaching baseball rejects.

The Bear’s first few games are obviously a disaster. Buttermaker gets drunk at practices and the team suffers for it in their playing. It is not until Buttermaker sees the disappointment in his team after a forfeited game that he starts to take his job seriously. He enlists the daughter of an old girlfriend (a young Tatum O’Neil) to be The Bears’ ringer. Soon, a local motorcycle hoodlum joins the team as a star hitter. And with these additions, the Bears become a formidable force of the little league world. Of course this is Buttermaker’s journey ultimately. Matthau plays the character with a grizzly gentleness about him. He never has a succinct epiphany or an acknowledgement of his restored love for the game, but that’s what makes him human; that’s what makes Buttermaker’s conversion to a good coach actually powerful.


The Bad News Bears does not rely on gimmicks or preachy lessons about how to play the game with a good attitude. This movie has cheating, violence, cursing, drinking, smoking – pretty much everything you would hope would be in a sport’s movie. Foremost it allows the kids to be kids. For the most part, they are all fully realized characters that want to have fun in spite of their self-doubts. But most of all, they want to be able to look up to their coach with pride. Held together by a good script by Bill Lancaster (who reportedly wrote it with the coaching of his father Burt Lancaster in mind), "The Bad News Bears" revels in exploring the glory and cruelty that trickles down even into the little leagues of America’s favorite pastime.


Rating

On a scale of one to "Casablanca" this movie is a "To Have and Have Not" (1944)


Rationalization:


This is a perfectly good movie that stands on its own merits. Its probably one of the best films in the sub-genre. But as far as its relationship to all other films in the universe, you could probably find a better, more worthwhile comedy to watch. Choosing to watch "Bad News Bears" over "Doctor Strangelove" would be like choosing to watch "To Have and Have Not" over "Casablanca" (You should probably see all four of these films listed here by the way). And if one day while you are perusing the selection of DVDs at your local Library and "Bad News Bears" looks appealing, there is nothing that should stop you from grabbing it and enjoying the hell out of it.

Child's Play 2 (1990)

Review:

Before launching into this review, I must make two confessions of bias: The first R rated movie I ever saw was Child’s Play 3 and thus there is a certain nostalgic room in my heart for the series. Secondly, there is a bigger but hidden room in my heart where I house my unabashed love of Slasher Films. I can’t tell you what it is about those movies that bring such a smile to my face. No wait. Yes I can. They’re so humorously nihilistic – but usually not in disturbing ways, more often than not they’re just ridiculous nihilism. And so, I’ve seen a lot of them. I can tell you the best installments of all the great slasher series. Here's my comprehensive list of the best ones in each series:

Friday the 13^th – the best in the series are 2, 4, 6 and Freddy vs. Jason.

Nightmare on Elm St. – 1, 2, 3, New Nightmare, and Freddy vs. Jason

Halloween – 1, 2, 4, 5

Saw – 1, 3

Scream – 1

Texas Chainsaw Massacre – 1

Child’s Play – 1, 2

Now, here’s my formal acknowledgement that as far as art and the cinema go, these films are by no means high art. They are entertainments that unwittingly convey the message that even good people get killed horrendously for no reason sometimes (you see, its nihilism!) and the villain usually gets away (you see, nihilism!) and this assures yet another profit-turning, creatively bankrupt sequel in the near future (nihilism!).

Now, on to Child’s Play 2. We all fear dolls. Let’s face it. They are creepy, creepy toys. Perhaps one of the reasons Barbie has remained so popular for so long is that of the doll kingdom, she is the least creepy. Regardless, there is a long filmic history of evil dolls coming to life, starting as far back as 1945’s “Dead of Night” and continuing in television with “The Twilight Zone” and somewhere along the way Chucky was invented and launched the “Child’s Play” franchise.

Let us review the first film quickly. A serial killer named Charles Lee Ray (Brad Dourif) in an act of desperation, puts his soul into a doll. Thus Chucky the evil doll (also voiced by Dourif) is born. He finds his way into the hands of young Andy Barclay and decides he wants to deposit his soul into the child before he is permanently trapped in the doll’s body. Mayhem ensues.

Alex Vincent returns as young Andy Barclay in “Childsplay 2.” And he still can find no one to believe that his doll is a murderous psychopath. Since the events of the first film he has been taken away from his mother while she undergoes a psychic evaluation and he now lives with well-meaning foster parents.

Meanwhile the original Chucky doll, complete with Charles Lee Ray’s soul, is reconstructed by The Good Guy Company to make sure the doll is not in fact evil. Well, guess what? He is evil and still intent on finding a way to get into Andy Barclay’s soul. And voila – mayhem ensues.

This is by no means a great film – it is a marginally good film at best. But it is pure fun. One scene in particular, where Chucky murders Andy’s cold-as-ice teacher looks like its done by a virtuoso. Its one of the more memorable deaths in the series. And those poor, poor foster parents…What did they ever do but take in a troubled boy into their house? Ah, but there’s that slight nihilism I enjoy so much in these films. Not even being a good person exempts you from the wrath of evil.

The film is directed by John Laffia with some grace, given the material. The screenplay was written by Don Mancini, who invented Chucky for our viewing pleasure.

At the end of the day, you should probably be watching some foreign film instead of “Child’s Play 2.” But I know sometimes at the end of my day, I don’t want to think too much, and this movie is great for that.

Rating:

On a scale of one to Casablanca, this film is “Il Deserto Rosso” (1964).

Rationalization:

Many would kill me for making this rating, but in my mind “Child’s Play 2” and Antonioni’s “Il Deserto Rosso” are mirror images of each other. “Child’s Play 2” is a crappy film that you might want to check out for some laughs. “Il Deserto Rosso” is probably a masterpiece but it just sucks and you shouldn’t check it out.

But now you’re probably going to want to see “Il Deserto Rosso” out of curiosity. You can thank me later.

Nashville (1975)

Review:

“We are Nashville…Please somebody sing!” These are the pleading words of a desperate musician in Robert Altman’s panoramic film, Nashville. A whirlwind exploration of the country music industry, Nashville proves to be more an exploration of America during a period of political and social uncertainty.

Unlike the more sacrilegious rock and roll, country music has always been invested in nostalgia: missing home and loved ones, pride in one’s family and country, and the belief that God is watching. Altman uses this music as the gateway into the plethora of characters in this film that collectively represent Nashville and America. Nashville has a strange and unlikely centerpiece. It is not the recording studio or one particular musician but instead an independent party’s campaign for the presidency. Although we never see him, Hal Phillip Walker is the presidential candidate the film orbits. He has already won three primaries, promising the abolition of the Electoral College and removal of lawyers from Congress. He now seeks to win Tennessee’s primary by holding a large rally at which Nashville’s most famous country stars will perform. But, as is so typical in a Robert Altman film, aside from that underlying plot there is a plentitude of subplots. Most involve the country musicians struggling to gain recognition while others struggle to keep it. Henry Gibson plays Haven Hamilton, a former country legend whose fame is now on the wane. Ronee Blakely plays Barbra Jean an angelic country phenomenon on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Both these actors play their characters with a note of pity that is often overshadowed by their large egos and dignity. Another fine performance is Lily Tomlin as Linnea Reese, a choir leader and neglected wife, who struggles to be cheery with her deaf children.

But what links all these characters is not actually the music or the political rally. These characters are thematically linked by how lost they are. Selling themselves to causes and to demanding fans, these musicians have forfeited their personal sense of nostalgia and home that country music preaches. But with the addition of having each musician sell out to the phantom Presidential candidate Hal Phillip Walker, Altman makes the larger claim that it is ultimately America that has lost its sense of home. When we cannot trust the people in charge how can we sing a happy song and mean it?

Robert Altman has never made a light comedy or a heavy drama. His films are hard to classify. They are either brilliantly dark or intelligently hopeful. I can never decide. But regardless, Nashville will continue to speak to subsequent viewers, so long as politics and country music can coexist.

Review:

On a scale of one to Casablanca this film is a "Tender Mercies."

Rationalization:

I do not love country music, but I seem to love movies about country music. Strange phenomenon. I suppose you could say the same thing about serial killers. Anyways, this movie strikes a chord (Ha!) about the music industry and all its ins and outs - from the stars to the has-beens, to the fanatics. Its not quite a satire and not quite reality and maybe thats just where Altman's films always lay.

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles (1987)

Review:

I can’t exactly pin point why, but I have a theory that John Hughes understands more about the human psyche than most psychiatrists. For instance, he understands that there are but two ways to cope with travel: one is to go with the flow, not worry much, and have a good time. The other is to expect everything to follow a certain schedule and when that doesn’t happen, become enraged. And Hughes, in his delightful 1987 comedy, Plains, Trains, and Automobiles, pits these traveling behaviors against one another in a fierce battle of endurance.

The plot is simple. Businessman Neal Page, played by Steve Martin, is trying to fly home to Chicago from a business meeting in New York City. It is two days before Thanksgiving. At the airport, he meets Del Griffith, a talkative, innocently oblivious salesman. When their flight is cancelled, stranding them in Kansas, Del and Neal begin a haphazard road trip together. As suggested by the title, they employ many means of transportation but none of them proves fully adequate in getting them to Chicago.

An underlying theme for every road movie, be it Easy Rider or Road Trip, is that the journey itself is more important than the destination. Planes, Trains, and Automobiles is no different. There are sentimental moments where truths are uncovered, emotional breakthroughs occur, and your heart feels a little warm. But this film is not successful for those reasons. This film is a comedy and it knows that with confidence. Most of the comedy derives from Neal Page’s inability to accept his stranded fate and Del’s innate enjoyment of their situation.

Notice how many times Neal Page nearly gets killed in this movie. It happens more than once and it’s almost always his own fault. No matter how much he tries to gain control of his traveling situation, he never gets anywhere without Del’s help. This speaks to Neal’s larger problem. He is so caught up in his work and self-interest that he never gets anywhere in life. His children and wife perpetually sit at home waiting and longing for Neal to be a real presence in their life.

John Candy gives a wonderfully enthusiastic performance as Del. You can tell Del might be an infuriating character to sit next to on a plane, but in the end, you can’t help but care for him. Steve Martin delivers yet another a great performance as a man out of his element that can only express his frustration in mad gesticulations. With Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, writer and director John Hughes has tapped into the all too common frustration of travel and reveals how deeply human (and humorous) those botched plans can make us.

Rating:

On a scale of one to Casablanca, this film is a "Dog Day Afternoon"

Rationalization:

This film is more affecting than I thought it would be. I found it surprisingly touching. There is a room in my heart for things that leave sweet aftertastes and this is one of those films. John Hughes films have a way of doing that, honestly - maybe more often than I should admit. "Planes, Trains, and Automobiles" warms and alarms. And God, God Bless that John Candy. If he's not in heaven, I want nothing to do with it.

The Front (1976)

Review:

Martin Ritt’s The Front is a movie with a good heart suffering from indigestion. Fluttering between light comedy and slight drama, it never reaches the consistent tone one would hope from a film about Hollywood blacklisting. It weaves through funny one-liners but never can laugh at its main subject.

Set in the early 1950s, The Front stars Woody Allen in a rare appearance when he did not also write or direct the film. Allen plays Howard Prince, a lowly cashier who is always getting into financial troubles because of his bad gambling habits. Howard’s close friend, Alfred Miller (the name Miller, perhaps a nod to blacklisted author Arthur Miller), is a television writer recently blacklisted for his ties to the communist party. In order to keep working as a writer, Arthur, portrayed by Michael Murphy, asks Howard to be ‘the front’ for his scripts. After agreeing, Howard takes Arthur’s scripts to the network and passes them off as his own, taking a ten percent cut from the paycheck.

Soon the wily Howard, always looking for an extra buck, becomes the front for more blacklisted writers. He is soon haled as the greatest writer on television. But his fame has a cost. Blacklisted actor Hecky Brown, played by the legendary Zero Mostel, is enlisted by the network to spy on Howard, searching for any connection the mysterious writer may have to the communist party.

With the likes of identity swapping, entertainment spy games, and Woody Allen, one would expect this film to be an uproarious comedy. But the laughs never come to fruition. This film feels like a volcano of hilarity ready to burst, but instead we get only tremors from the great comedy that lay below.

For instance, when Howard is inevitably subpoenaed to appear in front of the House of Un-American Activities Commitee, he claims to his writer friends that he will not name names; that he has a plan figured out. Now, Woody Allen in front of the House of Un-American Activities Committee is a situation brimming with possibilities – especially if he has some screwball scheme to out the Committee as the xenophobic, art-hating bureaucrats they must be. But Howard’s plan simply proves a muddled attempt at dodging a bullet. There are no boisterous attacks, he does not cleverly outwit the system, and he does not attempt anything comically absurd. When Allen finally delivers the punch line of the scene, I laughed, but I did not stand up and applaud Howard’s supposed ‘sticking it to the man.’ At the climax of the film, I felt unfulfilled.

There are two problems with The Front. One is Woody Allen. Howard Prince has all the narcissism and self-interest of a typical Woody Allen character but he lacks the self-doubting, neuroses that make a usual Allen character so likeable. Howard transforms into the role of famed writer so easily that it feels like we’re missing out on the fun of a big identity crisis. The second problem involves director Martin Ritt and writer Walter Bernstein. We find out during the credits that Ritt and Bernstein were both blacklisted in the 1950s. It seems with The Front, these two men tried to find humor in the predicament of McCarthyism but could not fully commit to a farce about blacklisting. Perhaps it was too personal a subject or perhaps they made this film with too much of a moral poise. Regardless, the script and directing seem restrained. Zero Mostel is emblematic of this. He plays the troubled, alcoholic actor who becomes a martyr for the blacklisted. This is a mistake. If you have the volatile and loveable Zero Mostel in your project, you should make your audience laugh hard and then afterward make them think. The Front is a movie that tries to make you think before you laugh and it suffers for it.

Rating: On a scale of one to Casablanca, this film is a "Hollywood Ending"

Rationalization:

Its Woody Allen. Its pretty funny. Its not all it could be. I love Woody Allen and he really can do no wrong in my opinion, and yet he certainly can do mediocre. This film, in the grand scheme of all movies, is pretty good, and worth a second viewing if you happen upon it. Otherwise, there may be better things to explore. Go watch "On the Waterfront."

Judgement at Nuremberg (1961)

Review:

Many of the greatest war movies never approach the battlefield. They look at the causes and consequences of war, but never engage in the brutal action. Some examples of this type of film would be Altman’s MASH or Wyler’s The Best Years of Our Lives. These films look deep into the shadows of war but never let you see the monster itself. Consequently war becomes all the scarier.

Director Stanley Kramer’s 1961 film Judgement at Nuremberg is yet another example of such a film. With an all-star cast, including Spencer Tracey, Burt Lancaster, and Judy Garland, Judgement at Nuremberg explores the conflict between personal and national responsibility of the Nazi War crimes. The film chronicles a fictionalized Nuremberg trial in which four German judges are being tried for their adherence to Nazi law. Chief Judge Dan Haywood (Tracey) has been summoned from the United States to preside on a tribunal that will oversee the proceedings. Burt Lancaster gives one of his most solemn performances as Dr. Ernst Janning, one of the German judges on trial. In his stoic silence you can sense this man has been crippled by his shame. Actor Maximillian Schell, in an Oscar winning performance, plays Hans Rolfe, the young lawyer who defends the German judges with the troubled conviction that, “A judge does not make the laws, he carries out the laws of his country.”

Judgment at Nuremberg does not tap dance over moral ambiguities. Director Stanley Kramer and writer Abby Mann are not confronting easy issues and they know it. What truly makes this film complex is the exploration of the German people’s own responsibility in the war crimes. Can four men really be held accountable for war crimes when the German populace turned a blind eye? And how much guilt must we all assume if these men are not found guilty? These sorts of issues could never be explored on a battlefield of World War II. Only in a courtroom or in the streets of broken cities can the guilt and responsibility of war be most fully understood.

The film is also beautifully shot with great use of deep focus. Every frame seems reminiscent of detailed trial sketches. Judgement at Nuremberg can be called a courtroom drama but it travels so deep into the heart of a tragic war and a troubled nation that I can do nothing but think of it as a war film. Eloquent, troubling, and at times deeply disturbing, Judgement at Nuremberg will be remembered as a hallmark of war and courtroom dramas.

Rating:

On a scale of one to Casablanca, this film is a "Doctor Zhivago"

Rationalization:

The scope of this film is epic. The stark, unequivocal judgement about war and war criminals gives a lasting impression to the viewer. In modern films, the fog of war tends to invade all sinews and crevices of the moral world. Nothing is certain in the indifferent universe of the contemporary war film. But "Judgement at Nuremberg" restores a sense of restitution, distinctly drawing the line between right and wrong and having the audacity to say who is in the wrong.

My Dinner with Andre (1981)

Review:

Never have I seen a movie so simple and eloquent as “My Dinner with Andre.” Even with a plot so simple that it can be inferred from the title, this movie is a challenging and wondrous movie about everything. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a movie about everything that wasn’t also an allegory or parable in some fashion. “My Dinner with Andre” is not a parable or even a story – it is a conversation; one filled with life, death and all the ambiguity that lay in-between.

Wallace Shawn, portraying a semi-fictional version of himself, meets Andre Gregory, also portraying a semi-fictional version of himself, for dinner at an upscale New York City restaurant. Wallace is an unsuccessful playwright and Andre is a former theater director who has long since dropped out from the theater scene. Wallace has not seen Andre in five years. He made this dinner date at the behest of a mutual friend who had recently seen Andre crying in the street after watching an Ingmar Bergman film. Knowing his friend must be going through hard times, Wallace is naturally nervous about this dinner date.

That is the set up for the film and all that information is delivered in about the first five minutes. The rest of the movie is their conversation. At first, their discussion is dominated by Andre’s soliloquies about his travels abroad. He has worked a theater workshop in the woods of Poland, he has invited Tibetan monks to live with his family, he has participated in a ritual that simulated the experience of being buried alive – all apparently in the pursuit of what it means to be truly alive. It seems Andre has been seeking unfettered experience as a way to cope with the inescapable fact of death.

Wallace, when he finally gets a chance to speak, conveys a very different view of what it means to live. He believes that to have a cup of coffee in the morning that has no cockroach floating in it is the essence of life and enough to be happy for. Essentially, “My Dinner with Andre” debates didactic opinions on the best way to live. Andre represents the seeker, a visionary who believes behind all the madness and death of the world that there is something purely beautiful that we can and should seek out. Wallace on the other hand thinks we should live for what is present, appreciating what we have. He is a proponent for the mundane happiness in simply being.

"My Dinner with Andre" sounds like it could be a tiring exercise in pure pretension. Not so. It speaks thoughtfully to the conflicting question in every human mind: is this it or is there something more? And wisely, "My Dinner with Andre" ends with no concise answer.

Rating:

On a scale of one to Casablanca, this film is a "Crimes and Misdemeanors"

Rationalization

Thought provoking and actively searching the nature of our existence, "My Dinner with Andre" thinks on such a big scale it could only be conveyed in one very long, simple scene. I was very moved by this film and found myself thinking about it for many days after seeing it. If thats not the sign of a good film, I don't know what is.

Where the Wild Things Are (2009)

Review:

This is perhaps the best feature length film adaptation of a children’s book I have ever seen. That is not to say it is one of the best adaptations of any work ever – but among its class it reigns supreme. Think of the Dr. Seuss adaptations “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” (2000) and “The Cat in the Hat” (2003). Despicable. They make me want to hurl, wipe my mouth and then go read the originals. They do not capture the fun or the heart of either childrens’ classics. They’re just needlessly weird and stretched too thin.

Spike Jonze’s “Where the Wild Things Are” succeeds where those two movies failed. It triumphantly converts a ten sentence book by Maurice Sendak into a 100 minute film that explores and celebrates what it means to be a kid.

Everyone knows the story from the book. Max misbehaves and is sent to bed without dinner. He then imagines his way on over into the land of the Wild Things where he is declared their king, and then returns home. The film follows that basic format but Spike Jonzes and writer David Eggers have augmented the story to include what happens when Max becomes King of the Wild Things - they build a fort.

The Wild Things are an impressive synthesis of CGI and costumes. They are voiced by the likes of James Gandolfini, Forest Whitaker, and Lauren Ambrose and they are brought to life with distinct personalities and character flaws. The Wild Things do not operate as rational creatures. They are prone to mood swings and sometimes dangerous tantrums.

What I liked most about this movie is how it operates under the parameters of a child’s knowledge of the world. Though the film largely takes place in Max’s imagination, his imagination is not limitless. Max can only imagine what he understands about life and the world and wild things. For instance, when he and the Wild Things build the fort, they make it from materials that any child could employ to make a fort – namely sticks and mud.

The Wild Things also exhibit an array of emotions that make no logical sense. They are gripped with the sadness and rage that a child can observe but not interpret. In this way, the Wild Things come to represent all that is scary, wondrous, and unexplainable about the world in the eyes of a child, and for that matter, for the rest of us.

Rating:

On a scale of one to Casablanca, this film is a "Jurassic Park"

Rationalization:

"Where the Wild Things Are" is effective not because it is the most clever film of our time, but because it evokes a deep rooted nostalgia for what it was like to be a child - and not just the the good memories. The Wild Things are an impeccable integration of CGI and costume. Though they look like no creatures on this earth they looked real enough to believe in and that is all that matters when it comes to movies.

Home Alone (1990)

Review:

John Hughes used to work for an advertising agency. I can’t tell you what his exact job was, but I imagine it had to do with selling products in creative ways – such is my understanding of the advertising industry. Watching “Home Alone” again reminded me that John Hughes was an Ad man. Why, you ask? Because “Home Alone” is perhaps the most perfect film ever made in regards to advertising. Not only does it have a cute kid at its helm (Makauly Culkin), it also preaches to the lowest common denominator of humor – slapstick. And then in the end, the film, gosh darn it all, has a heart. A goddamn heart.

It’s pretty easy to sell a product that has a cute kid in it with bad guys falling down while family values are maintained during Christmas. No wonder it was one of the top grossing films of all time.

And you know what? I really like this film. I think it works. Written by John Hughes and directed by Christ Columbus, “Home Alone” is a vehicle for Macaulay Culkin who possesses that rare quality in a child actor – charisma. He looks into the camera and winks, but somehow he doesn’t quite break that fourth wall. He lets us know he’s in on the joke but doesn’t sacrifice the momentum of the story. And he’s such a kid too.

Everyone knows the story by this point. Young Kevin McCallister is accidentally left home alone by his family who are on their way to spend Christmas in Paris. At times celebrating and at times distraught, Kevin proceeds to do the things we all might have done if left alone as a child – eat ice cream for lunch, watch scary movies, jump on your parent’s bed etc.

Then two burglars try to break into the McCallister home and rob it. But they are thwarted by devious, at times malicious, home-made traps set up by Kevin. The traps are what everyone really remembers about this film. They come out of left field. Most of “Home Alone” has a believable, non-violent sense of humor about it. And then suddenly Joe Pesci is having his head burned off. This sudden change of pace has drawn some criticism over the years, but I think it works. “Home Alone” is at heart bildungsroman - a story of a young boy coming of age. He thwarts the criminals and rises to the challenge of growing up and along the way he realizes that family does in fact matter. This film is like "Catcher in the Rye" for kids. Not really. But maybe...

Rating:

On a scale of one to Casablanca, I give it an "Igby Goes Down."

Rationalization:

While not a dark film per se, "Home Alone" captures some ominous undertones about the family - how easily it can disintegrate and how hard we all must work to keep them together. What I like about this movie is that I essentially believe it. The McCallisters sound like a real family and how they forget Kevin is not all that unbelievable. Its a comedy that could have spun out of control (like all of its sequels) but it develops and sticks to its themes and sells them to us.