Island of Misfit Toys: 2008

Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Word of the New Year

Spatchcock. Real word. Means making a turkey really fast. Spatchcock. I dare you not to laugh. Is this the point where we no longer question a phrase like "D'oh!" being in the dictionary?

Spatchcock.

A REAL WORD.

Tuesday, December 30, 2008

WALL-E

Part of the remembrance of film in 2008, good and bad, though this series will be admittedly shortened.

What can you say about a movie whose lead, a robot, manages to be the most heartfelt and emotionally true character of the year? Is it any surprise that WALL-E, arguably the best animated film of the last ten years, is a Pixar creation? I've grown up with Pixar, having seen their first feature film, 1995's Toy Story, when I was only 10, and I find myself more eager to see their latest now than I was back then. What is more exciting for a film buff than a studio at the top of its game, and what is more exciting for that company to be expressing emotions and images rarely touched in live action?

I will be the first to admit that hearing the quick synopses of Pixar's most recent films originally filled me with great unease. Their 2006 release, Cars, while a major achievement in animation (and a great way to show off a Blu-ray system) and a hugely successful merchandising property, is the film that impresses me least. After having watched the film more than once, I can say it's grown on me, but not in the same way that any of Pixar's other releases, even Monsters, Inc., have. Part of the issue remains the derivative plotline (switch out cars for humans, and Owen Wilson for Michael J. Fox and you have Doc Hollywood), and part of it is that the film meanders, perhaps appropriate considering the moral, but still a meander.

So when I first saw that their next film was about a rat who wanted to be a chef in Paris, it didn't matter that Brad Bird, the man behind The Incredibles, was the director. All I thought was, "Can they pull it off?" My faith was bolstered in watching Ratatouille, one of last year's best. Though the entire film still works wonders for me (even its shift in focus from Remy to Linguine halfway through, much as WALL-E seems to shift), it's the review by Anton Ego that solidifies my eternal love for this movie.

I vividly remember seeing the film last year the Saturday of its opening weekend, in a theater filled with families and, obviously, many children under the age of 10. I almost wish I wasn't old enough to fully appreciate Brad Bird's philosophical musings on the nature of the critic-artist relationship masquerading as a potentially evil character reading a restuarant review. Can you imagine what the kids were thinking? I wouldn't have grasped it, and I remember thinking that was exactly the point. That Bird and company could pull it off--making an animated film that's far easier to appreciate if you're not a kid--impressed me immensely. Though The Incredibles does touch heavily on adult themes, the main idea--that greatness is suppressed in favor of mediocrity--wasn't as developed as I hoped. Of course, that idea was shifted in place of some great action sequences, so I won't complain.

It was at the screening of Ratatouille that I saw the teaser trailer for WALL-E. I knew of the movie somewhat, that it was from Andrew Stanton, who'd been with Pixar for a long time and had helmed Finding Nemo. In fact, the teaser, which gave Stanton more face time than the title character, didn't garner my whole attention and some unease until the very end, when the film's title appears onscreen and is repeated by WALL-E himself. I sat up straight in my seat and wondered. Were these guys getting in over their heads? A movie about a robot with, if not knowledge of English, a strange and possibly creepy voice? After finally seeing WALL-E, I learned to stop being uneasy. My faith was bolstered again with this journey into the future.

To humor you, let's get the plot synopsis out of the way; WALL-E is a small trash compactor robot. His mission is to clean up Earth so it can be sustainable for humans again; the humans trashed the planet and have vacated it for a cushy space station. WALL-E is the only one of his kind left and is very lonely, until he meets EVE, a probe droid sent by the humans to check on the progress of the clean up. They fall in love, WALL-E first, and he ends up chasing her back to the space station, where much action takes place.

But before that action takes place on the Axiom, the humans' space station, what magic there is and in such a desolate place. Earth in 2800 is an awful thing to look at, the biggest landfill in the world. Thanks to sloth and gluttony, there's so much trash that skyscrapers can be constructed from it. How could this not be a turn off to viewers, not only in the brown-tinged landscapes but in its message? How to place a strongly worded message about promoting environmentalism? What Stanton did was something Pixar's been looking for: a memorable character. Yes, Woody and Buzz are memorable characters, but not lovable on the same level as WALL-E, the best character they've created.

Again, this has been something they've been trying for a while. First, it was Sully in Monsters, Inc. Then, it was Dory in Finding Nemo. Mater in Cars. Excluding Brad Bird's films, where lovable is not a necessary trait, Pixar has wanted to created someone or something kids and adults could latch onto. Lo and behold, a binocular-inspired Chaplinesque robot.

His charm is what pulls us through the first 40 minutes (yes, 40; it does take just under 40 minutes for us to be introduced to the humans of the future and, thus, any real dialogue), where not only is WALL-E the main character, but he is frequently the only character. Watching a robot play with a bra, a diamond ring, and bad showtunes shouldn't work, but dammit if WALL-E isn't the elixir. When EVE comes on the scene, her realistically crabby nature at her presumably futile job is a strong contrast for WALL-E's childlike optimism and determined focus. Getting struck by lightning, having a welcome gift snubbed...nothing truly wears him down with her.

Who knows? Maybe WALL-E knows instantly that EVE is a kindred spirit (or maybe just after she attempts to blow him to bits). That EVE warms to WALL-E is part of the magic this film holds, from her initial coldness and anger to humming his favorite tune to rouse him out of his stupor. Despite the criticism leveled at the film (mainly that the humans having such a major role in the film's second half), there are few moments in film this year to rival EVE and WALL-E's last scene; the emotion there in EVE is this close to heartbreaking.

Recently, there's been talk of the film getting nominated for Best Picture at the Oscars. No, it's not likely (though not as unlikely as you may think), but it's a film that lingers far more than earlier releases from the year, and even more so than some year-end releases (I'm looking at you, Slumdog Millionaire). Love in its purest form, between robots or humans or anything else, is a powerful bond, one we can link ourselves to as strongly as we do to anything else. I'm not sure that WALL-E will get a nomination for Picture (though I'd be thrilled if it does), but I am relatively certain its message, its characters, and its many perfect scenes and sequences will be thought of fondly in years to come, more so than the live-action spectacles being offered to us as Oscar fodder.

If Pixar can impress people so thoroughly this year with a lovestruck trash compactor, perhaps they'll do the same with their next release, May's Up. You want to talk about crazy premises? How's this: a 78-year old (Ed Asner!) decides to forgo a retirement home, so he lifts his house from its roots with thousands of balloons and flies to South America to fulfill his late wife's wish. Consider me psyched, and here's why: it's not that this is from Pixar...it's that I wonder if this film could be equal to or better than Ratatouille and WALL-E. Is it even possible? One can only, as WALL-E does every night, hope beyond hope and dream.

Four stars out of four

Resolutions for the New Year

So, here are a few resolutions of mine for 2009...

I resolve to lose 10 pounds.

I resolve to be less sedentary in my life, which is why I have to lose 10 pounds.

I resolve to be nicer to the cats.

I resolve to finish my novel by June 22.

I resolve to keep at least two of these resolutions for more than a month.

I resolve to write at least 20 pages per week on screenplays.

I resolve to write at least a little something about each and every movie I see this year, on this blog.

I resolve to make myself maintain this blog....wait a second, I think I've just been brilliant!

I resolve to play Wii Fit more than Rock Band 2.

I resolve to play less of the Wii in general.

I resolve to not be a completely frivolous spender.

I resolve to send more query letters out this year.

More to come, I'm sure, in the coming hours and days.

Diminishing Returns

So my wife has put Dreamgirls on, and though I still think the soundtrack is excellent, watching the 2006 Oscar winner for Best Supporting Actress, Jennifer Hudson, I'm finally able to say what many others have felt: not the best supporting female performance of 2006. I'm still willing to give Ms. Hudson the benefit of the doubt--her tiny role in the Sex and the City was awful and mildly racist for many reasons, and it was poorly acted. However, since the film is such a cesspool, I'm not going to make a judgment on her acting abilities.

But watching her performance in the splashy musical makes me think about another victim of diminishing returns, last year's little film that could, Juno. Watching it in the theater, I had a smile on my face throughout the entire film. Beginning to end, I was hooked; it was one of my favorite films of the year, though nowhere near as masterful as No Country for Old Men or There Will Be Blood; I knew that before I realized it was a film with a quick shelf life. That awareness came when my wife and I watched it on our new Blu-ray player (and if ever a movie did not demand hi-def, this is that movie); sure, the movie was funny, but the dialogue took longer to work. Even though I loved the film, the opening scene with Ellen Page and Rainn Wilson working with the quirky rat-a-tat dialogue falls even flatter, and things don't pick up until the scene where Juno tells her parents she's pregnant. Even then, the movie never works here as well as it did originally.

Of course, there's no why or how, no way to tell what film from this year, for example, will be championed on Day 1 and forgotten a year later. Movies gain and lose resonance frequently, but every year, one Oscar hopeful gets boosted up for no good reason. Was it hype that now somewhat ruins Juno or Jennifer Hudson for me? Maybe, but the only thing that's certain is that these two haven't picked up overall. Like most awarded movies, they're not being sufficiently remembered, but unlike some unfortunate cases when this happens for the wrong reasons, I think these problems aren't manufactured, and aren't wrong.

Eddie Murphy, though...he still deserved an Oscar for Dreamgirls. Shame he had to put the fat suit on so soon after.

Sunday, December 28, 2008

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Curious case, indeed. Of all the people to make a film that is easily connected with 1994's Forrest Gump, David Fincher, he of Se7en, Fight Club, and Zodiac, is not the first person who comes to mind. I wonder if the major leap made by the special effects and the manner of style that could be flaunted in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button that drew Fincher to the story, or something about his mortality, but here we are with Fincher's latest, but not his best.

Benjamin Button is a very good film that wants to be great, and comes very close. Though the film is a love story in an epic form, the emotions never fully cross over to the audience. Nothing feels wrong, but there is a distance between us and the characters on screen, partly because of how the magical realism of the concept is frequently the driving force of the story. We know that Brad Pitt will soon throw off the old-age makeup, and give it over to Cate Blanchett; how will we get there?

The story, taken loosely from a short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald, involves the strange birth of a boy on Armistice Day, the end of World War I, which appears to coincide with the creation of a clock that goes backwards. The boy is born in the body of a baby with the form of an elderly man; as each day passes, his body grows younger. His father, Thomas (Jason Flemyng), is initially revolted by his son's visage and leaves him on the back step of a retirement home in New Orleans run by Queenie (Taraji P. Henson), a kind-hearted woman who takes the boy in and names him Benjamin, looking past his peculiarity.

As Benjamin grows up, he meets Daisy, a little girl who visits the retirement home, and their blossoming romance pulls the story forward. Time passes through World War II, the 1950s, 60s, and 70s, as Benjamin and Daisy grow closer, then further apart, as one grows younger and the other grows older.

Benjamin's life is recounted in a diary being read by Daisy's daughter, Caroline (Julia Ormond, doing the best in a thankless and pointless role). Caroline reads to her dying mother in a hospital on the eve of Hurricane Katrina, which is essentially used here to tie together the idea of time passing no matter what happens. Unfortunately, this story works just as well without Julia Ormond and Cate Blanchett in scads of old-age makeup (it's impressive makeup, yes, but it's also unnecessary). It's a testament to the story's power that whenever we cut back to the hospital scenes, the film stops in its tracks.

Moreover, Pitt's performance, or Fincher's direction of said performance, or writer Eric Roth's characterization of Button, is strangely childlike and impassive. Benjamin has one major, truly life-altering choice with about 40 minutes left in the film, and Pitt's face is a blank slate, the same blank slate throughout the film. Maybe it's that the script is meant to make us feel little about the title character, but so it is. Roth's used the bare bones of Fitzgerald's story to construct a look, mostly, at the 1920s, 30s, and 40s, though some action does occur elsewhere. In that way, it's a companion piece to another of his works, Gump. Like that film's title character, Benjamin goes many places, has a generation-spanning love interest, and has a simple if positive outlook on life. The final montage of this film, though the most touching and evocative moment, wouldn't have been out of place with Tom Hanks as narrator instead of Pitt.

Why this film is garnering so much Oscar praise is clear; it's an epic, it's got beautiful actors, it's beautifully directed, it's a love story, it's about the 20th century, and on and on. For all the hoopla, this is a good film, not a great one.

Three stars out of four

Friday, December 26, 2008

Boxing Day

Yes, the post-holiday blues have already begun, as was evidenced by a disturbing lack of eggnog at the local grocery store; how much time did it take for the Safeway employees to not only vacate their eggnog stash but for them to also completely rearrange the dairy section to make up for the loss? Must have been a merry Christmas for them.

The doldrums set in now for me because I remember work awaits in a few days and the post-Christmas weekend remains mostly dead online anyway. The only way I beat the blues today was putting on, for the first time, my brand-new copy of The Dark Knight on Blu-ray. The truck flipping end-over-end midway through still sends chills through my spine. Whoof.

Thursday, December 25, 2008

The Best of '08

There's still a large part of me that can't shake the fact that, as much as I feel and know that The Dark Knight and WALL-E are the best films so far of 2008, they really shouldn't be.

Why shouldn't movies about a man dressed as a bat and a lonely robot in love be the best of the year? Well, no specific reason, but the way that Hollywood works, it's been a long time since the blockbuster was able to also be something more than a way to spend a couple hours on a sun-drenched day in June. That these two movies are still so resonant with enough people to be seriously considered as Best Picture contenders says much for their quality and even more about the lack of quality coming from the arthouse circuit this year.

Of course, after a year that produced such great small films like Once, There Will Be Blood, and No Country for Old Men, it's hard for current indies to top this kind of work. Still, most of the year's arthouse films, especially the most recent ones, aren't succeeding on as similar a level. Thus, Christian Bale and WALL-E sneak in.

Aside from these two films, the year has been disturbingly sparse in films that are actually great, ones worth remembering ten or twenty years down the line. The next best films for me were earlier entries: In Bruges and The Visitor, both propelled by stunning lead performances. That Richard Jenkins, the lead of the latter film, is brilliant as Walter Vale is not, in itself, stunning. That he, one of the prototypical character actors, was the lead of his own film is the stunner. Colin Farrell's hilarious and poignant performance in the former movie...that was a discovery.

2008's offerings have been relatively dry otherwise, with movies like Doubt and Milk featuring strong performances but lacking a strong core to stick with this viewer. Then there's Slumdog Millionaire, this year's Cinderella story, which has an abundance of flashy directing from Danny Boyle, and a heap of contrivances that have lead me to join the small camp of people who just don't get where the love for this movie is coming from. Have there been worse movies? Oh yes. Have there been better? Double yes. Now I know what those who didn't get Juno or Little Miss Sunshine were coming from.

The year's not over, film-wise. With Benjamin Button, Frost/Nixon, Gran Torino, Revolutionary Road, and Valkyrie just being released, I'm not giving up on movies this year; being in Phoenix and Flagstaff has also prevented me from seeing a few other indie films, which I'll end up remedying in the new year. My list of ten will hopefully include movies I genuinely loved or liked a lot, instead of just movies that have to go on the list because they are among the ten best I've seen, even if they're not more than good. Until then, I'll wait and wonder which, if any, movie will end up dethroning The Dark Knight as the best film of 2008.

Doubt

Doubt is a play that should probably not be a movie, which is unfortunate because, as is evidenced above, this is not advice well taken. Don't get me wrong: the movie has four truly accomplished actors working, for the most part, at the top of their game. But performance do not a good movie make.

It's ironic that the director of the film adaptation of the Pulitzer Prize winner, John Patrick Shanley, has surprisingly little faith in the source material, since he is also the film's screenwriter and the man who wrote the play. And yet, he relies on far too many heavyhanded symbolic flourishes, from imaginary feathers flying in the wind to purposely odd camera angles to lightbulbs popping out in the office where most of the film's action takes place.

Shanley's directorial choices are even stranger when considering that his top-name technical crew are among the best in the business; when you have Roger Deakins as your cinematographer and Dylan Tichenor as your editor, why should there be any problems with the technical aspect?

Despite all this, the acting in the film is mostly top-notch. I say "mostly" with regards to Meryl Streep, who certainly does much better here than her other 2008 film, the execrable "Mamma Mia!" Streep, however, continues to perpetuate the idea here that she searches for a way to integrate her gift of accents in just about every role. Not that her Sister Aloysius, a nun and Catholic school principal suspicious that her parish's priest is involved in a relationship with the only African American boy in school, shouldn't have an accent (the film is set in the Bronx), but Streep's well-known proclivity for voices fails here, as she sometimes sounds like she's from Noo Yawk and sometimes like she's just Meryl Streep.

The other three main performances, from Philip Seymour Hoffman as the potentially pedophilic priest, Amy Adams as an extremely innocent nun and schoolteacher who brings the situation to Sister Aloysius' attention, and Viola Davis as the African American boy's mother, are affecting and filled with genuine emotion. It's Streep who always feels a little fake here, always a bit uncomfortable in the habit she wears throughout.

The real problem, whatever there may be, lies with Shanley, who liberally adds some scenes in the school, mostly involving the kids in Sister James' (Adams) class. On stage, Doubt only has the four characters played by Streep, Hoffman, Adams, and Davis, and even fewer scenes outside Sister Aloysius' office. Why, then, does Shanley show us three different boys in Sister James' class, one who appears to be a bad seed but one who finds Father Flynn (Hoffman) to be creepy; one who's relatively nice despite shouting at his teacher; and Donald, the African American boy who sees Father Flynn as a father figure?

There's much too much buried under the surface of these scenes, something that adds to the intricacies of the adult characters, and something that takes away from whatever mystique there may be in Father Flynn's seemingly disturbing meeting with Donald in the rectory. I imagine Shanley knows what's going on here, but he should have let the actors in on the secret.

Speaking of secrets, a little has been made online about Philip Seymour Hoffman's reaction to what appears to be the most common question asked of him by entertainment press: did Shanley tell Hoffman before filming if his Father Flynn was guilty of an illegal relationship with Donald? What is most fascinating is exactly how definitely we know the answer to, if not that question, the general question that Father Flynn is a guilty man, a man who should not be near children. Is there really a mystery here, when the movie answers it so completely?

It's this knowledge that makes the final scenes a bit frustrating; what we are meant to glean from the scenes, the only ones where Streep is able to channel humane emotion, is that Sister Aloysius isn't just that horrible stereotypical nun who rapped our knuckles with her ruler. While Streep sells the emotion perfectly, the dialogue behind her tears falls flat.

With the Oscars around the bend, the acting in Doubt, especially that of Ms. Davis, whose one scene in the film is powerful and compelling enough to get her a nomination, deserves mention. The film itself, while posing many challenging questions (and for that, high praise is indeed warranted), will not resonate as well as its original production still does, with only a bare stage and four people whose words may save or damn them.