Review: The Dukes of Hazzard (2005)

The Dukes Of Hazzard
2005
100 minutes
Rated PG-13

by Scott Mendelson

It must be noted first off, that I am not even a casual fan of the original Dukes Of Hazzard television show, which lasted for 6 seasons starting in 1979. I vaguely remember snippets of the show, and I remember wondering just how someone could jump into a car through an open window with such ease, as it seemed rather tough in real life (I'm proud to say I never tried; I found other, non-media inspired ways to hurt myself back in the day). Thus, I can judge this new movie adaptation with an open mind. And what be thy judgment? Well, with all the talk about how it represents the glorification of ineptitude, the worship of fast cars and easy women, and how its success will somehow be a sign of the creeping conservative movement at play in the last several years, it must be said that the film is quite fun. It may in fact commit all of the crimes above, but it does so with a certain knowing panache, it winks at several genre conventions, and in the end, the moral of the story is actually one that the core 'red state' audience would do well to hear. It's not nearly as stupid as you'd think, and it's just smart enough to be almost subversive.

The plot, for those who care: Luke Duke and Bo Duke (a deadpan Johnny Knoxville and an overacting Sean William Scott) run moonshine shipments for their uncle Jesse (Willy Nelson, with absolutely nothing to do), with the occasional aid of cousin Daisy Duke (Jessica Simpson, seemingly challenged by her 20 lines and embarrassed by the obvious exploitation of her breasts and legs). Alas, fiendish schemes are afoot, threatening to tear their fragile existence asunder! The evil Boss Jefferson Davis Hogg (Burt Reynolds, looking trim and having fun) has used his influence and power to make a land grab of several large farms in the area, including the Duke House. What could Hogg's evil scheme be? What is its connection to the upcoming annual Hazzard stock car race? Will our Duke boys unravel the odious scheme and bring peace and tranquility to the Hazzard county, or will Hogg triumph, covering the land in darkness and despair?

First things first, the car chases, and there are a few, are quite exceptional and they all feel real, with a minimum of special effects assistance (there are some amusing chase outtakes over the end credits, reminding one of a Jackie Chan film, but with a car). About 40% of the jokes work, with an edge going to the pure comedy bits, as opposed to the gentle acknowledgment of 'hillbilly' cliches. One exception is the matter of the giant confederate flag that eventually adorns the General Lee. It is actually used for a very funny gag, but is ruined by an additional nasty joke that ends too soon to defuse or play on the racial discomfort that develops.

The oddest thing about the film is that, while it indulges in certain less than esteemed bits of southern folklore, it has something trickier up its sleeve. The film seems to revel in the usual liberal-bashing stereotypes. The good guys are dumb, poor, not bathed, and scornful of authority. The bad guys are smart, well dressed, clean, intelligent, and usually members of authority. So, it would seem that this is a usual 'Us vs. Them' saga, a battle between rich, educated city folks, and poor, bored, uneducated 'real Americans'. Yet, in the end, the film could easily be read as a metaphor for the whole absurdity of that idea. The main villain, Boss Hogg, masquerades as one of the 'real people', but secretly plots to steal their homes purely out of greed. Remember that stock car race I mentioned? Well, that's organized by Boss Hogg as a giant diversion so he can subvert the law to get his evil plan rubber-stamped.

So, basically, we have a movie aimed at the 'red state' demographic which involves a rich, cooperate bad guy who pretends to be 'one of them real folk' and uses the bread and circuses of a stock car race as a diversion so he can screw those 'real Americans' out of their property. And, in the end, it is big government and law and order that saves the day once the evil scheme is exposed. Readers of What's The Matter With Kansas? might be amused.

Whether this can be taken as a symbolic representation of 'god, gays, and guns' (the three 'moral issues' that are used as a distraction to get people to vote for the very politicians that will help insure that their children starve to death or go uneducated) can be debated, but the fact that this film seems to have such an important point -pay attention and don't fall for the distractions around you- is a bit of a shock.

On a slightly related note, this comes days after Jessica Simpson openly complained about ABC censoring and softening the real living conditions of the US troops that she and her husband went to entertain in Iraq for a TV special. With all the talk about how Simpson's popularity is a reflection of people wanting a boring, safe, squeaky clean sex symbol, it's worth noting that more 'daring' sex symbols like Brittany Spears never had the guts to make such statements, or even really think for themselves. She may be a lousy actress, but Simpson has moxy.

Obviously, one need not read this much into The Dukes Of Hazzard. On purely surface levels, it's a quick, light, squeaky-clean 'thrillbilly' comedy that is slightly funnier and slightly more exciting than most people expected it to be. Whether or not the mass, unthinking consumption of this film will cause it to be the very sort of distraction that it seemingly rallies against is a valid question. But the very fact that this seemingly assembly line product actually raises such a question makes it just that much closer to being art.

Grade: B

Review: The Island (2005)

The Island
2005
130 minutes
Rated PG-13

By Scott Mendelson

In this summer of remakes and sequels (to be fair, most of them thus far, like Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Batman Begins, and the upcoming The Bad News Bears, are quite good), Michael Bay's The Island attempts to stand out as an original. It sells itself as an original and mysterious sci-fi fable about beautiful people in a strange place, with mysterious happenings, and the mysterious connection to 'the island'.

Of course, as fetching as the ad campaign has been, there's just one problem. The film is a blatant rip-off or un-credited remake of 1979's The Clonus Horror. I won't go into the details, as it would spoil most of the surprises of this rip-off/remake/unintentional homage. To be fair, I have not seen The Clonus Horror, and apparently it's good enough to have been featured on Mystery Science Theatre 3000. So, thus, let us judge this version on its own merits. And on its own merits, it can be judged very simply. The Island has a terrific first 70 minutes, followed by a monotonous, plodding final 60 minutes.

The plot, as much as I'm willing to reveal (less than the later trailers)... Lincoln Six Echo (Ewan McGregor, going through the motions save for one bit I won't reveal) lives in what is apparently one of the last two safe places on earth. According to those that run this safety zone, the rest of the earth has been poisoned by an unknown catastrophe. These survivors are educated, fed, clothed, and kept in absolutely perfect shape, under the idea that they will eventually be selected via lottery to be sent to... (Drum roll...) the island, the world's last outdoor safe zone, where they will slowly repopulate the species. Lincoln, however, wants more out of his sterile, preschool like existence (male/female touching is prohibited, much like the social lives for many in the target demographic for this film), and he starts to question the basic foundations of his life. After his best buddy, Jordan Two Delta (Scarlett Johansson, not since Eight Legged Freaks has she been so regulated to pure eye candy) gets selected to go to The Island, Lincoln gets suspicious and discovers something... something so shocking that it will scrape your nerves screamingly raw! (That's my 1950s type bid for quote whoredom).

As stated above, the first 70 minutes of The Island are terrific. The setting is fascinating, the minute details of the enclave are rich and interesting, and the eventual revelations are completely logical and utterly plausible. While McGregor and Johansson are basically action figure stand-ins (not unintentionally, it should be stated), Sean Bean, as a scientist and the big boss of the containment unit, walks away with the picture simply by being Sean Bean and adding instant credibility (he is on the level of Gene Hackman or Morgan Freeman; he is incapable of giving a bad performance, no matter how good or bad the movie). Steve Buscemi, as an employee at the containment center and an alley of our heroes, chews scenery in his first major role in a few years (remember, back in the late 90s, when he was in every independent movie released?). Djimon Hounsou, as a private mercenary/bounty hunter, gets a big paycheck, though he is underused, and in context, his final meaningful staring glance seems to suggest less 'gee I guess this is how it ends' and more 'gee, I'm by far the sexiest man in this picture, so how come I don't end up with Johansson?'

What happens after those initial 70 minutes? Well, most of the plot is explained, and the film pretty much becomes non-stop action, with several major chase set pieces taking up the majority of the next 60 minutes. These action scenes are exquisitely constructed, fast paced and creative, and quite simply as boring as unbuttered toast. Since we don't really care about the fate of our two leads, and they really aren't real three-dimensional characters (again, can't be too specific here), it basically becomes 'chase of the stick figures'.

Still, even after the film tragically remembers that it's supposed to be a brainless Michael Bay action picture, there are several minutes sprinkled afterward that do remember that Michael Bay was trying to stretch. The film deals head on with the murky moral issues that it dabbles in, without offering any real answers. That the film's politics eventually lean a bit to the right doesn't win it any points, but previous Michael Bay films show him to be more Red State than Blue State (particularly Bad Boys 2, which flaunted the use of the Patriot Act and climaxed with the massacre of innocent Cuban civilians to facilitate an illegal police action in a sovereign nation by our alleged heroes). Again, I don't agree with some of the film's symbolic imagery, but that's not a deal breaker (I loathe the anti due-process and anti fair trial message behind The Devil's Advocate, but I find the film quite entertaining regardless). And the film does leave much to discuss for coffee or ice cream afterward.

In the end, The Island is another sci-fi parable that wrestles with the eternal question of what science can do versus what science should do. That the film doesn't come up with iron clad answers is commendable, that the film eventually dissolves into a brainless chase picture with boring leads is less commendable. So, see The Island. See Ewan and Scarlett run for their lives. See Sean Bean and know that he is one of the very best character actors around. See Steve Buscemi do the shtick you used to take for granted back in the 1990s. See Djimon Hounsou and feel inadequate. See a movie that is quite literally halfway decent.

And, whatever you do, when you see The Island, do NOT see, hear or be in the presence of the new trailer for the upcoming Red Eye. I've seen Red Eye, it's quite entertaining, but the new trailer literally gives away the entire film. You've been warned.

first 70 minutes: A-
last 60 minutes: C-
average: B-

Review: Fantastic Four (2005)

Fantastic Four
2005
98 minutes
Rated PG-13 (for one brief, nasty murder whose sole purpose was to help the film get that PG-13 and not a more suitable PG)

by Scott Mendelson

I went into Fantastic Four expecting the worst, as the buzz and initial clips were not promising. I was wrong. All hype and fan boy complaints about casting (it works well enough, with one exception) and general concerns about similarities to The Incredibles aside (Pixar, glorious streak of quality notwithstanding, has a habit of ripping off old ideas and making them better… Monsters Inc is to Little Monsters as Finding Nemo is to An American Tail), Fantastic Four is just a pretty darn entertaining comic book adventure film for the whole family. There’s very little profanity, and no real sexual content. There is only one major scene of real violence; an encounter in a parking garage that’s briefly shocking and violent, but not bloody or gory. And, content aside, it is about family, friendship, and loyalty (just like the original comic book).

Comparing the previews to the film, it’s obvious that Fox was trying to hide what a character driven and NOT action drenched movie it was. Quibbles of faithfulness to the comics (and there are things to quibble about), it is very faithful to the spirit and tone of the original books. The original book was basically a sci-fi adventure as family melodrama. Can four DNA-altered mutants live together and save the world together without driving each other crazy? And, gosh darn it, that’s what the movie eventually shapes into as well. The film is flawed; the dialogue is often ‘on the nose’, and the film feels chopped in places, leaving plot holes late in the film. But, glaring problems aside (the biggest of which I’ll go into below), the film works. It’s a close call, and I might not have been impressed, but I was entertained and I enjoyed the emphasis on drama rather than action.

The plot, for the eight of you who missed the trailers and have never ever seen a comic book… Five people go into space on an experimental journey involving DNA. Mistakes are made, ship goes boom, and the five are exposed to scary rays that resemble the Nexus from Star Trek: Generations (ya know, the one where they end up in the Nexus and, by the film’s logic, they never ever leave which means every Star Trek adventure from then on it takes place in that non-reality). Rather than being tossed into a time ribbon with Malcolm McDowell, their DNA is altered in differing ways.

Reed Richards (Ioan Gruffard, terrifically low key as the patriarch) becomes able to stretch his limbs any which way but lose. Sue Storm (Jessica Alba, not quite motherly enough, but not as bad as you fear) becomes occasionally invisible. Johnny Storm (Chris Evans, acceptable as a womanizing hotshot) gets the ability to catch aflame. And Ben Grimm (Michael Chiklis, full of regret and bitterness, giving easily the best performance in the film with the best material to boot) suffers as his entire body turns to stone.

Oh, and Victor Van Doom discovers that his skin is turning to metal, and he is able to control electricity. Just by those names, take a guess which one turns out to be the bad guy? You guessed the guy with Doom in his name? Can’t fool you! Of course, in the comics, his origin was a bit different. After scarring his face is a poorly thought out scheme to travel to heaven and talk to his dead mother (don’t ask, it was the 60’s dude!), he eventually took the name Dr. Doom because Dr. Doom is a really really cool name for a bad guy, and one of the main reasons for the guy’s 45 years of popularity among the geeks.

Alas, the film’s handling of Doom is easily the chief weakness and biggest disappointment. Sure, Alba isn’t great as Sue, but she is good enough. And yes, the special effects aren’t very realistic, but the cheesy FX actually gave the film a charming, old-fashioned feel. And the action scenes aren’t very riveting, but it’s always refreshing when more emphasis is placed on character than action. But, Julian McMahon is perfectly dreadful as Doom, spending most of the second half isolated and thus forced to poorly talk to himself in evil monologues. The other reasons for the character’s popularity, his rich background and cool caped costume, are sadly lacking in this film. His new quasi Lex Luthor-ish back story is lazy and boring. Truth be told, the film would have been far stronger to remove Doom from the plot, to concentrate even more on the readjustment of the Fantastic Family and to then have Victor Van Doom show himself in the final scene, ready to earn that PG-13 in the inevitable sequel.

In the end, the long awaited Fantastic Four is a solid B-level entry into the comic book genre. It’s fun, it’s well acted by most of the cast, and, in this summer of dark, gloomy spectacles, it’s a light bouncy adventure story that is faithful in tone and spirit to the classic comic book series from which it’s based. It’s surely not ‘Incredible’, nor is it even ‘Fantastic’. But, to use a little known comic book spoof from 2000, it is just barely ‘Special’.

Grade: B-

Review: Grizzly Man (2005)

Grizzly Man
documentary
2005
105 minutes
rated R

by Scott Mendelson

Grizzly Man concerns the life of one Mr. Timothy Treadwell, who spent 13 of his 46 summers in the Alaskan wildlife, living among the population of brown bears. His occasional filming of these creatures (and himself) provides the bulk of this film, with narration provided by director Werner Herzog. It is no secret that, in the summer of 2003, Timothy Treadwell and his then-girlfriend Amie Huguenard encountered one bear who was, perhaps, smarter than the average bear. This bear killed and ate them both. The fact that I just made a Yogi Bear joke here pretty much sums up my feelings about the character of Tim Treadwell and the quality of the resulting film on his life.

Grizzly Man is a long, slow, torturous journey through the last few years of the life of a very unpleasant and off-putting individual, whose naivety, ignorance, and paranoia are glossed under the disguise of genius or misguided romanticism. He claims to love these animals and respect them, yet he treats them not as awesome creatures to be respected and admired, but as little pets to be coddled and taken care of. He constantly talks to the bears (and several foxes) in baby-talk type syntax, like how one talks to an infant or their pet puppy. His naivety towards the world of nature shows throughout, most amusingly in his stated confusion when one bear fights another, or when a smaller animal is killed by a larger one. His world is a utopia where every animal lives in peace and no one ever needs food.

He also grows more and more paranoid about the humans around him, and his rage is constantly at the surface, a rage against a world that he seems to have abandoned, a rage against girls that wouldn’t date him, a rage against the park officials who really have no fault except daring to suggest that maybe Treadwell shouldn’t actually touch the bears on the nose so much.
At the film’s end, we are left with two disturbing questions. Would his rage have eventually been turned on the very bears he idealized? And, did his rage at humans, and rage at women, play a part in his own death and Amie Huguenard? Although Huguenard’s parents and friends refused to speak for her on this film, so our knowledge of her feelings and life are limited, we learn that she was scared of the bears, and that she was vocal about leaving the bears soon and leaving Timothy soon after. Draw your own conclusions about the coincidental timing of the death of a self-proclaimed martyr and the girlfriend who was about to scorn him.

So we are left with a 105-minute biography of a sad, pathetic crazy person, whose entire contribution to society amounted to several film clips with bears. We are told that he spoke to classrooms, but we never hear or see what he spoke about, and watching this movie one would be at a loss to figure out what wisdom about bears or life he could impart. It is telling that we, the viewers, will exit this film not a drop wiser about bears than when we entered. We learn nothing in this film, for this film has nothing to teach us.

Almost as frustrating as the naïve, pseudo-liberal rantings of a paranoid, self-loathing, narcissistic bear lover (these are the kind of ignorant fools that makes the rest of us progressives look bad), is the shockingly stilted and unprofessional construction of the film itself. Herzog’s editing choices are baffling, his constant narration is contradictory and undermining (if this man’s life is so interesting and worthwhile on its own, then why must every clip be explained in proper context?), and his interviews are horrid in their staginess and writing. The ‘performances’ of the participants genuinely feel staged, with ‘bad acting’ and showy emotional displays that seem to arrive 3 seconds after the proper cue (a scene in which Treadwell’s former girlfriend is given a watch is shocking in its un-lifelike presentation). Ironically, the only interview subjects who come off natural and comfortable are the few that openly criticize Treadwell and his ideology and lifestyle. And Herzog’s questions are easily the most leading questions that I have ever seen in a professional documentary.

Most shocking is Herzog’s insistence that Treadwell’s friend burn the audio from Treadwell’s violent death. We may not need to hear it (we don’t), and his friend may in fact be better off burning it, but for a researcher, a historian, a person searching for truth, to advocate and promote the destruction of evidence, evidence that probably invalidates my thesis from above (that we don’t hear any of the tape is part of what set my imagination running), is shameful and contradictory to his chosen role as a passive observer of truth.

So we have a poorly constructed film, about a hateful, boring, naive human being, who I disliked within 3 minutes of the film’s opening. Gene Siskel once said that no good movie is ever too short and no bad movie is ever too long. Well, Grizzly Man is very long. I have never walked out of a movie, but I stayed because I was seeing this film as a critic, and not as a casual moviegoer. For that, you all owe me a great debt. I sat through Grizzly Man, so you don’t have to. Instead, take the time to see any of the following far superior documentaries that you may not have seen: Hoop Dreams, Paradise Lost: The Child Murders Of Robin Hood Hills, Control Room, Super Size Me, Brother’s Keeper, or Four Little Girls. Of course, if you take my recommendations, you’ll then owe me twice, but I’ll let that last one slide.

Grade: D-

POST NOTE - after my review was written, additional screenings followed, and most of the critical community lavished astounding praise on this film, calling it among the best of the year, one of the best documentaries in years, etc. The common theme is that it was in fact a 'probing study of madness, a haunting story of a singular life, etc'. For a new critic, this was quite unnerving, as going against the grain on such a film could hurt longtime credibility. Ironically, the film fared so poorly at the box office that my review was never published and you are the first mass audience to see it. If you choose to watch this film (it will be on DVD soon), ask yourself this: "would this man's life been worth discussing at all if he hadn't gotten himself killed, thus failing at the one thing that made him even slightly interesting?"

Review: Thumbsucker (2005)

Thumbsucker
2005
96 minutes
Rated R

By Scott Mendelson

In the last several years, an entire sub-genre has emerged, that of the ‘disaffected young adult’ drama. They usually involve a unique and quirky teenage or young adult male, trying to find himself with a community that doesn’t understand him, parents that don’t nurture him, and usually an attractive girl that would gladly be with him if he had the courage to talk to her. They are usually smarter than the normal teen films, they aren’t filled with WB and MTV tested youngsters, and, alas, they often have a certain air of pretentiousness about them. Thumbsucker isn’t the best of this genre (still Rushmore), but it’s not overly quirky for the sake of quirkiness (the vastly overrated Garden State) nor is it too darn preciously geeky and emotionally empty for its own good (I’m looking at you, Napoleon Dynamite). It is a triumph. Often bending the rules of the above sub-genre, and playing its mild quirkiness as much for drama as for comedy, it contains several wonderful performances and several moments of well-earned emotional resonance.

Justin Cobb (Lou Taylor Pucci) is our disaffected teen in question. He isn’t reaching his academic potential, and his shyness hinders his communication skills. He also still sucks his thumb, which annoys his father Mike Cobb (Vincent D’Onofrio, in a terrific, painful performance full of words not said), since he sees it as a probable sign of weakness and a sure sign of escalating orthodontist bills. Keanu Reeves plays hippy-ish orthodontist Dr. Lyman and proves again just how naturalistic he can be. Of course, Reeves is always low-key and never becomes bigger than the role; which is why he, along with Harrison Ford and Kevin Costner, is often accused of being wooden. In an era where Roberto Benigni is an Oscar winner, naturalistic acting is often considered not trying hard enough. Yes, there is a girl (the normal looking Kelli Garner), but that story does not develop in anyway like one would expect.

The story kicks in after Dr. Lyman hypnotizes Justin into breaking the thumb sucking habit. That backfires, which leads to another solution, which also takes its toll on everyone around him. The revitalized Justin finds a potential calling on the debate team. This causes unspoken feelings of resentment for his Mr. Cobb, whose ego struggles with a son who may be ‘superior’ to him.

This middle act also involves Vince Vaughn with a brief, effective role as a slightly nerdy, but genuinely caring and smarter than he lets on debate-team coach. He’s ‘cool’ enough to buy his team beer before a big debate, but tough enough to rightfully scold the team when they abuse his generosity. The third act involves potent truths divulged; harsh realities laid out, but desperately needed confessions unuttered. What it really means if Justin breaks his habit I leave for you to discover, but this is not a film that claims to have all the answers about life, and that is one of its strengths. The film is inherently a character study where everyone gets a moment to shine.

Unlike other ‘disaffected young adult’ movies, Justin’s parents are completely supportive and loving, and are given full sympathy for their own mistakes, problems and discontent. This core relationship is strained; though there is obvious love for all, including the obligatory little brother Joel (Chase Offerle, who gets an incredibly honest and potent climactic confession about his role in the story). His father mourns over a high school injury that prevented his football dreams, and he struggles with feelings of spousal inadequacy. His wife Audrey Cobb (Tilda Swinton, understated and potent) tries to hide her feelings of general discontent by indulging a juvenile crush on a TV star (Benjamin Bratt, gently ribbing his onscreen image, and even he is given a scene of potent humanity). This bothers Justin, as he feels his mother is demeaning herself. There’s a sweet scene near the end where father and son share their admiration for Audrey; “How else could I get a woman like that to notice me, except by being her son?”

It is to the film’s credit that all of the problems are not resolved, even some of the more important ones. But by the end, we know that eventually, somewhere down the line, these issues will be resolved in a positive way, and the movie ends with completely earned optimism. Thumbsucker is a sweet, potent, emotionally rich character study, and it ennobles the sub-genre in which it is contained.

Grade: A-

Review: Meet The Fockers (2004)

Meet the Fockers
2004
111 min.
Rated PG-13 (crude and sexual humor, language and a brief drug reference)

by Scott Mendelson

Meet the Fockers is a primary example of an occurrence known as “sequel unnecessaryitis”. This is, of course, what happens when a movie makes a surprisingly large amount of money and thus, a sequel is created regardless of whether there is anymore story to tell. Meet The Parents grossed close to $175 million in the US back in October of 2000, far more than anyone had anticipated (to put this in perspective, this is as much as the original Matrix grossed in 1999, a number that in that case seemed to crown The Matrix as king of the world). So of course, since Universal lacks franchises (Van Helsing was so bad and unloved by audiences, it not only killed the idea of the Van Helsing franchise, but it permanently maimed the entire Universal monsters library… whoops), we have this follow-up just in time for everyone to have more or less forgotten about the original. So, enough about why it was made, is it worth your time, and most importantly, your money? The answer to that is, probably.

Simply put, Meet the Fockers is cheap, rehashed, overeager, strained, and wholly unnecessary. It is full of awkward, painful, wincing moments where one simply wants to close their eyes and not look at the screen. But, all that notwithstanding, it’s also pretty funny. The actors are all eager and game, and the additions to the cast actually marks an improvement, as certain cast members provide foils for characters who were short-changed the first time around. The plot, for those who missed the previews… An unknown amount of time after winning over his fiancée’s highly possessive and obsessive father, Greg Focker (Ben Stiller, generously ceding most of the comedy to his elder costars) now must introduce his future in-laws to his own parents, a pair of highly eccentric, overly emotional and coddling hippies (played with much gusto by Dustin Hoffman and Barbra Streisand). Will the obsessively authoritarian, stereotypically ‘conservative’, and patriarchal Jack Brynes (Robert De Niro, who seems to be better in comedies than in dramas these days) be able to make peace with the, overly jolly, permissive, stereotypically ‘liberal’, and matriarchal Focker clan? Yes, ladies and gents, we know have Dharma and Greg: The Movie!

As stated in passing above, much of the movie feels rehashed from the first film. Jack doesn’t seem to have changed at all, and he is just as viciously demanding of his family and of Greg as in the first film. Greg still gets into embarrassing situations, mostly not of his own making. And Pam Brynes, the fiancée (and one could argue, the Mcguffin of this series) is still barely a shadow in the story of her life. Teri Polo has a couple good scenes, but she really fails to make a presence of her own. But again, despite that, the movie works, if only because the actors are having such fun and are all in top form. Unlike the recent Ocean’s 12, the actors remembered to have fun IN the film, not just while making the film and publicizing the film.

There are a few noteworthy additions. First off, of course, are the new parents. While the sparring between Hoffman and De Niro is expected, although fun, the real fun comes with Streisand and Blythe Danner, as Roz Focker and Dina Brynes, respectively. Danner was as much a placeholder as Polo was in the first film, but her friendly rapport with Streisand gives her a much more vital role to play. The second major addition is that of Little Jack (played by the Pickren twins), a nephew of Jack and Dina. Again, using babies for comedy is cheap and easy, but Little Jack is used sparingly enough that his comic hits feel earned (alas, the best bit with him is given away completely in the trailer and TV spots, so try to avoid it if you can).

Despite suffering from 'sequel unnecessaryitis', this follow up is probably a better film than the slightly overrated original. With the exception of Polo, every major character is given a bit of an arc, and everyone gets to play in the comedy pool. The film is still about 20 minutes too long (the final act has an unnecessary complication, which prolongs the ending that has already been earned), and you might feel guilty for enjoying such a manufactured concoction, but a good time should be had by all. In closing, it’s a funny movie, even if it’s not a great movie. You’ll laugh, even while your brain is telling you that you’re being occasionally condescended to. So see it, enjoy it, and then go see Sideways afterward. You can laugh just as much and feel good about yourself as a moviegoer.

Grade: B

Why Senator Joseph Lieberman's MPAA crusade is counter-productive.

They say that no good deed goes unpunished. Well, according to certain members of Congress, the people who contribute the most should be punished, while the people who do nothing should not. Apparently, we can add to the list those who willingly and voluntarily give information regarding the content of their products to parents who are trying to find appropriate entertainment for their children. Introduced about one month ago, a new bill by Joseph Lieberman would financially penalize movie studios that allegedly market material deemed recommended for adults to kids. At a cost of $11,000 per day to the studios, the new bill is the latest attempt by Mr. Lieberman to prove that he really does know what is best for all of us. Specifically, it targets the MPAA ratings system (as well as the voluntary ratings system of the music industry and the video-game industry), which he claims often markets films rated “R” to an audience under the age of seventeen. In the general sense, he is correct in this finding, but he is missing the point.

The MPAA ratings system, implemented in 1968, is and always has been voluntary. It is not law, nor is it enforced on a greater level than a theater-by-theater basis. It is not a law and thus should not be held up as one, with the same penalties that come with violating laws. The system is primarily a tool for parents to decide what movies should or should not be viewed by their children. Under that banner, it is a most effective system. Sure, it has its problems (big studios get lighter treatment than the independents, sex is considered far worse than violence, etc), but as an informational system, it accomplishes its mission: to let a parent know more or less what to expect from a movie.

According to Lieberman, to market a product rated “R” to a teenager a false and deceptive business practice. The problem is, an “R” rated film, under the system, is not considered inappropriate for children. The wording specifically states: “No one under seventeen permitted without a parent or guardian.” Never has anyone in the business implied that all R-rated films are inappropriate for children. And considering that the bill sets no definitive standards for what “marketing to the young” would imply, the legislation would operate under a purely subjective banner of what is or is not an appropriate marketing strategy for a film with adult subject manner (“Better not make that explosion in the trailer too exciting! Better not use that music from that popular mainstream artist! Better not advertise during a time when kids MIGHT be watching!”). Aside from the subjective nature of the bill, this would-be law actually punishes the people who willingly provide ratings and information and holds them to a higher standard than companies that do not.

“By essentially punishing those who adopt voluntary guidelines,” Cary Sherman, general counsel of the Recording Industry Association of America, stated, “the legislation would have the unintentional result of discouraging participation in the successful parental advisory program.” Furthermore, if movie companies are prevented from freely advertising R-rated films and thus lose money as a result (which has already started to happen), they will simply find ways to allow more and more “objectionable” material into PG-13 rated films to attempt to by-pass the law. If Lieberman really wishes to prevent the flow of violence and sex into our children’s heads, he should get behind a new rating, an “A”, that would be given to purely adult films (but not pornography). And, to avoid the NC-17 debacle (which was supposed to be for true adult films but soon became as stigmatized as the X it replaced), Lieberman should encourage studios to release films, major theaters to carry films, and major media outlets to accept advertising for films under this new rating. If filmmakers are not afraid to make truly adult films, then studios will not force them to pigeon-hole adult content in greater quantities into their mainstream product in order to scrape by with that precious R or PG-13.

Preventing a company from advertising their art prevents that company from making such art, which constitutes de-facto government censorship. Shooting the messengers never solved anything. If the mighty Lieberman really wants to clean up Hollywood, he should encourage Hollywood to make films that are for adults, by adults, rather than forcing the studios to force-feed adult content into general entertainments.

Scott Mendelson

Less than Meets the Eye: more thoughts on Memento.

In regards to the backwards structure of this film, I will be referring to the order of the events as they occur in the film, rather than how they occur chronologically. Thus, the “beginning” is what happens when the film starts and the “climax” is what occurs around the 107-minute mark. And, if it needs to be stated, SPOILER WARNING from here on out.

Whenever someone asks a question relating to the meaning or point of life itself, the number 42 can be uttered in response as a cheap joke. If someone nearby laughs, then they obviously have read at least one part of the late Douglas Adams’ classic six-part Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy trilogy (no, that’s not a typo). * Set immediately after the Earth was blown up to clear space for intergalactic construction, the epic satirical saga dealt with the ultimate question and the ultimate answer. The big joke, of course, was that the answer to life, 42, was revealed about halfway through the first book. For the next four novels (and one short story), our intrepid explorers charted about the galaxy hunting down the question of life.

Review: Hannibal (2001)

Hannibal
2001
127 min.
Rated R (for occasional graphic violence, brief nudity, profanity)

by Scott Mendelson

Well, it’s official: Peter Jackson’s Dead Alive has completely desensitized me to any amount of gore any R-rated American horror flick can offer. Imported from New Zealand in 1993, Jackson’s zombie-filled horror-comedy classic contains perhaps more gore, blood, and guts than any movie ever made. When you’ve see a movie that climaxes with at least 40 minutes of zombies being graphically and creatively beheaded, getting their rib cages ripped out, being skinned, disemboweled, dismembered, and all other matters of jolly good fun, a throat slitting, a disembowelment, and a couple shots of man-eating boars eating men (among other bits) just doesn’t do it for ya.

This lack of grimy going-ons wouldn’t be a problem if Hannibal did not put so much stock in attempting to shock and repulse the audience with flashy gore. Alas, where Manhunter and The Silence of the Lambs (which isn’t nearly as violent or gory as you might remember it being) were character-driven suspense pieces where the violence was grimly realistic and the shocks came from what you did not see, Hannibal is basically a gross-out pic that aims merely to gross you out with over-the-top gore set-pieces. While Thomas Harris, author of the novels from which these films are based, used this operatic pop-comedy tone and over-the-top plotting to ridicule audiences who genuinely admired the murderous Hannibal Lecter, the filmmakers apply the same story yet still try to maintain that this is a serious work of art. Obviously, director Ridley Scott and co. didn’t get the joke.

The Silence of the Lambs, released almost ten years ago to the day, holds a place as one of my favorite movies of all time. It grossed $131 million, became only the third film in history to win the top-five Oscars (Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, Best Actress, and Best Screenplay), helped jump-start the genre of adult horror films, which had been in flux since Halloween positioned the horror film as a teen-based genre back in 1978. Alas, where Silence of the Lambs left its mark due to its myth-like quality (it’s often been called a great modern fairy tale), Hannibal tries for the same renascence but is constantly pulled back by the pulpy satirical qualities of the original novel. The filmmakers either should have been faithful to the tone of the book, or less faithful to the plot.

The plot is generally a three-pronged story that occasionally overlaps. The first thirty minutes sets up our heroine, Clarice Starling (played by Julianne Moore this time, but given little to do but sit in her basement office), as the fall-person for an FBI drug raid gone wrong (this is sloppy writing as there are several witnesses who can attest that other parties are completely at fault). To keep her under wraps while the media fries her, she is assigned to look into a new lead on Dr. Hannibal Lecter (again played by Anthony Hopkins, but unfortunately stripped of all malevolent cunning that made him so creepy, now becoming simply another intelligent movie predator), who has been hiding in Venice, Italy as an art scholar. Meanwhile, Lecter’s only surviving victim, Mason Verger: a wealthy, wheelchair-bound, facially disfigured (VERY disfigured) pedophile has offered a $3 million reward for his live capture so that Lecter can be slowly fed to several genetically mutated hogs. The unbilled and unrecognizable Gary Oldman, who plays Verger, has a ball chewing up the scenery oozing sleaze and bitterness, and the film makes an error in making him less of a major character than in the book, leaving the film without a major villain.

After a local Florence detective (played by Giancarlo Giannini in the film’s best performance) recognizes Lecter, he decides to make a play for Verger’s bounty. This pursuit through the streets of Venice takes up the entire second act and is the best portion of the film. This hour long passage nearly redeems what comes before and almost makes up for what follows. Dear Clarice spends the entire first two acts in her basement office listening to recordings of her past conversations with Lecter. A big tactical error is made is having Moore re-dub her own voice over Jodie Foster’s for these recordings, as it instantly reminds us that Moore is simply a replacement Clarice, and a much less compelling one. One can certainly understand why Foster passed on this one. It wasn’t the book’s ghoulish violence, or the wicked, “extended middle-finger” of an ending (which is slightly changed for the movie). The problem is that Hannibal’s Clarice is basically a one-dimensional agitated victim of a patriarchal government system. While Foster’s Clarice suffered (in a much subtler, effective manner) from the same system, Starling’s obvious intelligence, sharp instincts, and strong empathy is all but absent from Moore’s interpretation. If one had not seen The Silence of the Lambs, one would not have a clue as to why Lecter finds her so fascinating.

So, in the end, you have a gore-fest without the requisite gore, a thriller with few thrills (although a brief chase between a pickpocket and Lecter is genuinely gripping), and a character study with two-dimensional characters (save for Giancarlo Giannini’s Inspector Pazzi, as a man who’s fate occurs not out of greed, but out of duty and personal responsibility). Despite a terrific second act, winning performances by Giannini and Oldman, and a surprisingly subtle piano score by Hans Zimmer, Hannibal is just a big-budget slasher flick, without the required high body count and gory goodness. A slasher flick with big stars, an $80 million budget, beautiful scenery, and various references to the European arts is still a slasher film. Thomas Harris’ novel was a sick gag, a practical joke to all those who made Hannibal Lecter a heroic icon in the early 1990s. Unfortunately, Ridley Scott tries to trick us into thinking we are seeing something that is important, a deep, philosophical mediation on the nature of evil. Maybe Scott should have read the cliff notes too.

Grade: C

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Watching movies online

It is common knowledge that programs such as Napster, iTunes and Spotify have revolutionised the way most of us listen to and keep our music collections. Napster remains a household name, and is perhaps directly responsible for the lack of physical music collections in homes around the country.

Technological developments that have made hard drives get bigger, memory capacity on home computers more expansive, and broadband speeds faster have meant that there is little of now need for the humble CD for all but the most determined music aficionado or technophobes.

But can we imagine the same happening for films? In future will all films be watched online or stored digitally?

Probably the biggest stumbling block is the fact that the average file size for a film is much greater than that of a song. On average, a song file might be about 1 or 2 MBs, while a film can be as large as 1.5 or 2 GBs. Clearly there are storage issue: a film library is going to take up far more virtual space and be more of an effort to replace than our music libraries were in the last decade.

Nevertheless, broadband speeds are much faster than they were, and perhaps it is streaming services such as Spotify, rather than download programs that are setting the model for how we will come to watch films.

It is far more practical to watch movies online rather than downloading and storing huge files. Indeed, http://www.lovefilm.com/ have already begun to offer streaming movies in two ways. Most importantly, a flat fee allows for access to a huge library of films and TV shows, eradicating the need to own and store anything in your own home.

With the entire country connected to the Internet, watching films online is surely the future of watching films. Quick and easy, it removes any need to keep anything yourself and offers a much wider selection than you may ever collect yourself.