February 26, 2007

A Brief Oscar Recap, Award-Style

Scorsese

Funniest Part: Jerry Seinfeld advocating movie theater littering, while the crowd laughed uncomfortably.

Scariest Part: Jennifer Hudson's jiggling cleavage during the Dreamgirls number.

Strangest PA Comment: That J-Lo is the best reason to upgrade to HDTV (a close second: that the Little Miss Sunshine screenwriter was once Matthew Broderick's personal assistant).

Best Comedy Killer: Tom Hanks, making an Alcoholics Anonymous joke.

Most Irritating Theme of the Night: Go, Three Amigos, Go!

Most Embarrassing Moment: When Coppola, Lucas and Spielberg were dubbed the "original" Three Amigos.

Most Telegraphed Moment #1: Martin Scorsese's (deserved) win, which was guaranteed when Coppola, Lucas and Spielberg were announced a couple of days ago as the Best Director presenters.

Most Telegraphed Moment #2: Jennifer Hudson's win, which was guaranteed the second the Best Supporting Actress award presentation (which usually kicks off the proceedings) was moved deep into the show.

Biggest Surprise: The Lives of Others winning Best Foreign Film over Pan's Labyrinth.

Best Part: Ellen DeGeneres' bit with Eastwood and Spielberg (a close second: the Jack Black-Will Ferrell-John C. Reilly number).

Worst Part: The goofy, time-wasting, this-is-why-the-show-runs-so-long silhouette dance sequences.

Moment that Best Epitomized the Oscars: The sound effects choir, which was bizarre, annoying, laughable and meaningless.

February 22, 2007

Notes on a Second Viewing – The Departed

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(Note: SPOILERS AHEAD)

- The impotent/viral dynamic between Colin (Damon) and Billy (DiCaprio)/Frank (Nicholson) is still the film’s funniest subtext, though I seem to have missed one of its key appearances. After Frank and Colin meet at Frank’s porn theater (where studly Frank waves a dildo at limp-dicked Colin), Colin is chased by Billy into an alley, where he attempts to stab Billy but instead accidentally and incorrectly knifes an innocent Asian man – another case of Colin’s inability to properly wield a phallic object.

- Vera Farmiga remains the weak link, not simply because her character’s romantic entanglement with Colin and Billy is ridiculous, but because it’s so insanely contrived and phony. Farmiga’s shrink Madolyn has no truly independent character traits – a (poorly Photoshopped) childhood photo of her on a horse is the only thing Scorsese gives the character in terms of detail or depth. She’s the epitome of a plot device, there only to lamely serve the development of the story and the two protagonists with whom she interacts. Farmiga makes the most of the “character,” but Madolyn’s presence barely adds anything to the film, and thus comes off as borderline embarrassing.

- In most reviews of the film (mine included), the Rolling Stones’ “Gimme Shelter” is the primary song referenced. Yet upon second viewing, the track that really gives the film it’s powerhouse oomph is the Dropkick Murphy’s propulsive, rambunctious “I’m Shipping Up to Boston,” which is used so brilliantly during the film’s delayed opening credit sequence – where Scorsese intercuts between Damon on the “outside,” and DiCaprio in prison – that it practically makes me want to jump out of my seat with excitement.

- Scorsese’s eventual operatic instincts (just like Nicholson’s flamboyant antics) didn’t bother me as much this time around, and his direction seems pretty great all the way through. After the first twenty minutes or so, however, no shot is quite as sweet as the one of Martin Sheen taking a slow-mo dive off a building rooftop – an image that once again made me gasp.

- The rat punchline at the end is not only too cheesy (and stupid) by half, but it’s completely unnecessary, and spoils what otherwise would have been a perfectly fitting final pan from Damon’s corpse to the state building/halls of governmental power to which he aspired.

January 29, 2007

Notes on a Second Viewing – A History of Violence

Ahov
• Though Cronenberg claims to have been unfamiliar with the film’s graphic novel source material, his compositions regularly invoke comic book panels – such as a Leone-esque shot from Tom Stall’s hip during his front lawn stand-off with Carl Fogarty (above), or a climactic master shot of the entranceway to Tom’s home in which Richie’s body lies flat on the ground and Mortensen’s gun-in-hand can be seen poking out of the doorway. That said, these comic book-ish compositions are themselves modeled after images from classic Western and crime films, two Hollywood genres that AHoV is both indebted to and interested in subverting/critiquing.

• I didn’t notice it the first time around, but the name “Stall” is a really nice touch, as it subtly captures Joey’s (ultimately futile) attempts to block/impede his violent (former) self.

• Ashton Holmes’ performance is still the film’s weak link, though the moment in which his breakfast is interrupted by Tom racing into the house (thinking that Fogarty has come to kill his family) exudes a measure of believably sudden, childlike fear that films rarely show (or accurately capture) in teenage characters.

• Cronenberg’s formal mastery is impressive throughout. But that opening, extended tracking shot of the two killers outside the motel (and in their car) is truly in a class by itself.

• Maria Bello really holds the film together as Tom’s wife Edie, and not just in the two incredible sex scenes. Her performance during the scene in which the sheriff confronts Tom about his true identity, and she backs up his lie, is superbly handled. Kudos also to Peter MacNeill as the sheriff, whose initial “So that’s the way it’s gonna be” smile when he realizes Edie is going to endorse Tom’s deception shifts to a look of uncomfortable, embarrassed meekness when Edie begins sobbing – the lawman caught between thinking that she’s lying, but incapable of calling her out because there’s a chance, however slight, that her tears (and story) are genuine and any further query might truly upset the situation.

November 22, 2006

Robert Altman, 1925 - 2006

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To cinema's everlasting benefit, he fought until the end.

October 08, 2006

Homer in the Water

Thanks to the syndicated television gods, I finally remember where M. Night Shyamalan "borrowed" the idea for Lady in the Water's hero-with-one-muscular-arm.

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Lady in the Water

Simpsonsarm_3
The Simpsons, Season 17, Episode 361, "Marge's Son Poisoning"

What was that about the film's "honesty"?

(Images courtesy of Yahoo! Movies and The Simpsons Gallery, respectively)

August 03, 2006

A Quick Note About Comments

Kranks6_2I appreciate the fact that many of you, my readers, feel compelled to leave comments - both positive and negative - about the many reviews housed on this blog. And most of you seem genuinely interested in having a civil discussion about film.

However, given the recent deluge of clownish comments left on this site, I thought I'd clarify a few things for the knucklehead minority:

1) I don't care what a film's Rotten Tomatoes score is. Critical or general popularity has virtually no bearing on my opinion. And as everyone knows, mass appeal isn't a barometer of worth - unless, of course, you believe that Coca-Cola is the greatest drink ever created, McDonald's is the greatest food ever created, and Tim Allen is funny.

2) I don't care what a film's buzz is. As Snakes on a Plane is making evident, advance word of mouth is created, at least in part, by film studios. And film studios are interested in selling movies, not in delivering honest assessments of their product.

3) Before making arguments in favor of/against films, try seeing them. It's usually a good starting point for a discussion.

4) I reserve the right to delete any comments I find excessively profane, offensive, dumb, or pointless. This isn't an open forum, it's a moderated one.

Thanks.

Sincerely,

The Management

March 30, 2006

Rocky, R.I.P.

35issueimage1My two-year run contributing reviews to alt-weekly The Rocky Mountain Bullhorn is over, as the newspaper went out of business in early February. Since I only learned about the paper going belly-up by checking out their site, I don't have any insider info about the publication's sudden demise. But it's nonetheless depressing to know that my reign as Northern Colorado's most beloved film critic is finally at an end.

(And if you're out there, Mr. Johnson, feel free to drop me a line - I'd love to hear how things are going)

March 06, 2006

Academy Award-amania

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At the urging of those many fans who enjoyed my Golden Globes running diary – well, okay, it was just one person, and it was via an email to my wife – I’ve returned with a similar by-the-minute log for the 78th Annual Academy Awards. The glitz! The glamour! The vapidity! And annoying red carpet reporter Billy Budd to boot! Yes, it was a truly nauseating event – and not just because I spent the three-and-a-half hour ceremony gobbling Peanut Butter Crème Double Stuf Oreos and drinking Vanilla Black Cherry Diet Coke. But why tease you about all of the evening’s excitement – and all of my sarcastic indifference – when you can read the first-hand details below? Thus, without further ado…

7:58 The pre-show madness concludes just as I sit down in front of the TV. My wife informs me that, at one point, one of ABC’s “reporters” told Terrence Howard, “You made us fall in love with a pimp.” Yup, I’m officially happy to have missed the red carpet coverage.

Still, moments before the show actually begins, I manage to catch Access Hollywood gnome Billy Budd ask Eric Bana what he’s hoping for tonight. “I hope to see a lot of blood spilled,” is his reponse. Too my chagrin, he doesn’t fulfill this dream by snapping Budd’s neck.

8:04 A video skit featuring former hosts is more amusing than it should be, especially when Steve Martin admits that he’s bypassing the festivities in order to make sure his gray wig-wearing kids don’t “grow up weird.” Letterman’s similar desire to watch out for Martin’s kids is even funnier.

_11351284381Then a bearded Mel Gibson appears from the set of his forthcoming Apocalypto, speaking in an obscure Mayan dialect while pacing in front of a cast of white powder-covered natives. After The Passion of the Christ, such behavior seems par for the course.

8:08 After a bumpy start, Stewart finds his groove, mocking this year’s Oscar theme “Return to Glamour” by referring to the less successful “Night of 1,000 Sweatpants.” Shortly thereafter, he derisively makes fun of the notion that piracy hurts movie stars’ earnings. This is good. I can only hope he’ll continue skewering the show’s (and participants’) pomposity.

Uh-oh, angry actor alert! Following a quick shot of Matt Dillon, the camera cuts to a mean-looking Joaquin Phoenix clapping a tad too aggressively. Then, after Stewart makes a crack about Walk the Line being Ray with white people – a first-degree groaner – Phoenix is shown with a stern “I am not amused” scowl on his face. Seems the guy is wound pretty tight. We may be only one more joke away from a Level 3 meltdown in which the actor snaps and kills a member of the Crash posse. Something to keep an eye on.

As for the movie montage about the “gayness” of classic Westerns (featuring clips from some movies without homoerotic elements) – well, let’s just say it felt similar to when a grandparent attempts to prove their hipness by repeating something they heard on MTV that they don’t really understand. Just awkward and embarrassing.

8:18 Wife: “Can we eat cookies yet?” Me: “Um, yes.”

8:19 What’s happened to Nicole Kidman? Giving out the Best Supporting Actor award, she doesn’t just look blond and gaunt; she looks like she spent the past year undergoing a Michael Jackson cosmetic makeover. My guess is that she’s trying to become pale to the point of translucence as a means of avoiding the insufferable behemoth that is TomKat.

But I digress. Clooney wins, thereby denying us the opportunity to hear William Hurt give a speech in his bizarro A History of Violence Italian accent. But a strange thing occurs during Clooney’s speech (and no, I don’t mean his blather about Hollywood’s history of championing noble causes) – music quietly but continuously plays throughout his speech. Could this be a subtle, preemptive attempt to rush winners through their tedious thank-yous? My fingers are crossed.

00011e5cfb9e133c86cf0c01ac1bf8148:27 Cue coincidence – not five minutes after I write the above comment, Tom Hanks appears in a pre-recorded clip about rushing winners through their speeches. Unsurprisingly, the funniest thing about the sketch is Hanks’ ludicrously long hair.

8:28 Ben Stiller does a strained bit in a green bodysuit while giving King Kong the Best Visual Effects Oscar. The recipient thanks Andy “Gollum” Serkis for “really giving us the heart of Kong.” Yeah, the heart that only a few die-hard Peter Jackson fanatics loved.

8:36 An old-looking, makeup-slathered Dolly Parton performs “Travelin’ Through” from Transamerica. Her voice sounds so-so, though such vocal problems could be attributable to her artificially engorged boobs, which seem to be creeping up her chest and straight to her throat.

Oreopeanutbutter8:42 I just gave myself the first Schager Academy Award for cleanly removing, with one giant lick, all of the crème from an Oreo cookie. And no, that was not a Brokeback joke.

8:50 Non-movie star Jennifer Anniston announces Memoirs of a Geisha is the winner of the Best Costume Oscar. The woman on stage proceeds to thank “the people of Japan.” I can only assume she’s thanking them for not totally freaking out over the fact that Rob Marshall’s film featured a bunch of non-Japanese actresses.

8:54 A montage juxtaposes based-on-real-life performances with photos of the actual people. If this isn’t an obvious way of foreshadowing Hoffman and Witherspoon’s Best Actor/Actress wins, I don’t know what it is. Oh, wait, you say it’s simply an excuse to show Gary Cooper embarrassingly mimic Lou Gehrig’s “Luckiest Man in the World” speech in The Pride of the Yankees? Well, I'm willing to buy that.

9:05 Morgan Freeman appears onstage wearing a black jacket, a white shirt and no tie. Why no tie? Because he’s Morgan F--king Freeman. And he does what he likes.

ANYWAY, in lieu of Maria Bello being robbed of a nomination – despite giving one of the year’s best performances – Michelle Williams should win Best Supporting Actress. Nonetheless, Rachel Weisz nabs the trophy for her turn in the wretched Constant Gardener, and proceeds to repeat the same stuff she said at the Golden Globes, praising director Fernando Meirelles’ “humanity” and novelist John Le Carré’s “unflinching, angry story” that “paid tribute to those who risk their own lives to fight injustice.” In keeping with the film’s condescending indifference toward Africa, Weisz’s speech contains no mention of the continent or its inhabitants.

9:14 Lauren Bacall can barely read the teleprompter and keeps stumbling over her lines (which is brutally discomfiting) while introducing a montage of film noir clips (which is totally out of place). I’m all for keeping the noir flame alive, but I don’t get the point of this segment. Unless, of course, the purpose was to remind everyone that today’s American stars and films don’t hold a candle to those of the ‘40s and ‘50s, in which case: Mission accomplished!

9:24 March of the Penguins wins Best Documentary, making me wish that the criminally un-nominated Werner Herzog would – in an echo of the abuse he suffered a few weeks ago – shoot one of the victorious French directors with a BB gun. This desire amplifies once the filmmakers, who are clutching huge penguin dolls, make weird noises into the microphone that they claim “mean ‘Thank You’ in penguin.”

Nicely summing up the scene, my wife blurts out, “Look at these idiots.”

69:33 My wife informs me that many polled Americans believe that their first amendment rights include the right to own a pet. These must be the same idiots who choreographed the just-completed, interpretive dance-and-burning-car-laden performance of “In the Deep" from Crash.

9:39 “Hollywood has never been afraid to challenge our beliefs,” says Sam Jackson. He forgot to mention that Hollywood has also never been afraid to use an awards show to pat itself on the back. Confirming the general idiocy of the proceedings, Jackson’s self-congratulatory statement is then followed by a montage of well-known “hot topic” movies that includes a clip from the paranoid global warming thriller The Day After Tomorrow.

“And none of those issues were ever a problem again” says Stewart. Nice. At least he’s committed to making fun of the event’s ridiculousness.

9:45 The Academy’s president says that films are better seen in theaters than on DVD. He’s right. But his attempt – in the wake of last year’s box-office slump – to motivate moviegoers to shell out $10 for crap like Big Mamma’s House 2 is so shameless and pathetic that I immediately begin thinking about getting on Kazaa and downloading another copy of Sharkboy and Lavagirl in 3-D.

(Note to the law: The above comment was a JOKE. I would never download something as mind-bogglingly inane as Sharkboy and Lavagirl in 3-D)

9:47 A smoking-hot Salma Hayek introduces Itzhak Perlman, who plays selections from the five Best Original Score nominees. Snooze. I think that if I had to sit in the audience during this stuff, I’d be compelled to use Gun Kata on the person sitting next to me.

What’s “Gun Kata,” you ask? Well, it’s a particular style of fighting that involves using martial arts while wielding firearms. Who came up with such a brilliant technique? Why, that’d be Kurt Wimmer, director of 2002’s Equilibrium and this past weekend’s Ultraviolet. And why would one want to use Gun Kata rather than karate or ninja throwing stars? As one excellent fansite explains:

It is of course impossible to see an oncoming bullet and dodge it, but an advanced Gunkata practitioner, known as a Tetragrammaton Cleric or Grammaton Cleric, can put himself in the least statistically possible place to be hit at each moment of a gun fight. Gunkata is based on a scientific analysis of bullet trajectory and range based on the mathematical possible outcomes of a gunfight.

What more can I say? This is obviously the 21st century’s first, great hand-to-hand combat innovation. And after watching Ultraviolet on Friday – which apparently features a more “realistic” brand of Gun Kata than Equilibrium – I think I’m going to dedicate my life to mastering the form.

And in a related note, I’m also training in another new fighting style as I watch the Academy Awards. It’s called Christmastree Kata, and I think you know who the creator is.

9:58 I’m pretty sure Brokeback just won Best Original Score while I penned the above explanation of Gun Kata. Its win, I fear, will only further encourage sensitive guitar players to seek fame and fortune by playing sad, soggy five-note songs on their acoustic axes.

9:59 Jake Gyllenhaal introduces yet another Chuck Workman montage, and this one, like the Academy president’s speech, is all about how movies should be watched on the big screen. Somehow, they seem incapable of grasping the fact that almost everyone watching this show is doing so on a relatively small television. But hey, why worry about such pesky issues when the real goal is just to run some more clips from the lame-o King Kong remake?

“Holy crap, we are out of clips. We are literally out of clips,” riffs Stewart after this latest montage, doing his best to undercut the show's (hot) air of self-satisfaction. Unfortunately, the Daily Show-style political ad spoofs are falling flat.

910:03 Jessica Alba looks great while handing out the Best Sound Mixing Oscar, but stumbles on her one line. In other words, it’s a typical Jessica Alba performance.

10:08 In a sweet, reverential bit, Lilly Tomlin and Meryl Streep engage in pseudo-spontaneous, overlapping dialogue while introducing honorary Oscar recipient Robert Altman. Though the Altman montage is rather predictable, it is – given the phenomenal body of work on display – nonetheless quite moving. I guess this is my opportunity to rant about Altman’s lack of directing Oscars. But the truth is that these film clips prove, much better than my snarky blog post could, the egregiousness of the Academy’s oversight.

10:18 M. Night Shyamalan directs a commercial for American Express. Unsurprisingly, it’s all about himself.

1010:20 During Three 6 Mafia’s rendition of Hustle & Flow’s “It’s Hard Out Here For A Pimp,” it becomes clear that the chorus’ lyrics have been changed from “a whole lot of bitches jumping ship” to “a whole lot of witches jumping ship.” This is almost as funny as the fact that they’re performing on the set of What’s Happening.

10:30 Jennifer Garner trips on her way to the microphone. Her new-mom rack is clearly the equilibrium-sabotaging culprit.

10:35 As always, the In Memoriam feature is sad. And as usual, the biggest applause goes to a minor celebrity like Pat Morita. Though in defense of Mr. Miyagi, the crane kick was almost as great a brawling innovation as Gun Kata. Almost.

10:38 Jews let out two consecutive sighs of relief after Will Smith says Paradise Now is from the “Palestinian Authority” (rather than from the non-existent “Palestine”) and then announces that Tsotsi is the Best Foreign Film winner.

10:33 Ziyi Zhang states that film is a visual medium that transcends language barriers, but does so in stilted English. Man, that’s just too easy.

Best Editing goes to Crash, a potential omen for future, bigger awards. Upon reaching the stage, winner Hughes Winborne says, “Paul Haggis – a force of nature.” What type of force of nature, however, is left open to debate.

10:45 Philip Seymour Hoffman wins, and is humble and genuinely moved. I, however, am literally jumping with joy over the fact that the show is only 2 ¾ hours long, and we’re already into the big awards.

10:55 It’s time for The New World’s only chance at Oscar gold, for Best Cinematography! And? And?!?! AND?!?!?!?!

And Memoirs of a Geisha wins instead. I’d jump out a window, or throw up – or both – if I put any stock in this stuff.

10:57 Best Actress winner Reese Witherspoon claims that, like June Carter always used to say, “I’m just trying to matter.” What she fails to realize is that Walk the Line matters about as much as my last nap.

11:08 It’d be nice to think Cronenberg’s A History of Violence might pick up a Best Adapted Screenplay Oscar, but no, we’re now into Brokeback Mountain anointment time. Larry McMurtry spends his time on stage infuriating the Academy by repeatedly referring to his Golden Globes speech. Then he tells everyone to always remember the greatness of books. Which is fine, except that this is a MOVIE AWARDS SHOW. So, you know, stuff it.

Accepting his Best Original Screenplay award, Crash’s Haggis says, “Art is not a mirror to hold up to society, but a hammer with which to shape it.” Which, I guess, goes a long way toward explaining Crash’s graceless bluntness.

11:15 Long-locked Tom Hanks arrives, thus providing another opportunity to gaze at the horrific hairdo that will doom this summer’s The Da Vinci Code. I mean, he looks like the kind of drunken Eurotrash creep you’d find slurring come-ons to female passersby at a Parisian café at 3am.

Best Director goes to Ang Lee, thus more or less solidifying Brokeback’s status as the eventual Best Picture winner. Revealing that he took acceptance speech lessons from James “I’m King of the World” Cameron, Lee grabs his golden boy and immediately says, “I wish I knew how to quit you.” Sheesh.

1911:22 We’re reached the end of the night, and it’s taken less than 3 ½ hours! That alone is something to celebrate. And to cap things off…CRASH WINS! Wow! Even presenter Jack Nicholson looks seriously taken aback by the news. And the auditorium is erupting in cheers. To say that the show ends on a shocking and controversial note is a massive understatement. The Academy just gave Crash its highest honor. Let me repeat: Wow.

And that’s that. People are happy. People are mad. People are sad. I’m exhausted. And come tomorrow morning, it seems likely that Paul Haggis will be the prime target of some serious, backlash-heavy critical bullets. To which one can only say – I hope he’s been boning up on his Gun Kata.

February 28, 2006

Great? Evil? Or Just Mediocre?

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Some of my colleagues at Slant think it’s the worst movie of the year, if not of all time. NY Press’ Matt Zoller Seitz and LA Weekly’s Scott Foundas (among others) more or less agree. Meanwhile, Roger Ebert and Oprah – to name just two high-profile figures – think it’s phenomenal, brilliant, and the best film of 2005. To which polarizing piece of cinema am I referring? Why, that’d be Crash, Paul Haggis’ Los Angeles-set racism drama that’s garnered numerous Oscar nominations, tons of other (largely meaningless, in my opinion) accolades, and a swift, brutal backlash from those who are convinced that – should it upset Brokeback Mountain at this Sunday’s Academy Awards to nab the coveted Best Picture trophy – it’ll become the most undeserving gold statuette winner in a category historically rife with undeserving winners.

Back in May, I wrote a rather schizophrenic – but ultimately positive – review of the film for Slant, claiming that although the characters were unrealistically forthright in their vocalizations of racist attitudes, and that although its narrative had too many connect-the-myriad-storyline coincidences, Crash’s “head-on depiction of people’s mistrust and disgust for those not like themselves is uncompromising.” I praised the film’s “confrontational bluntness” while stating that its “point about the complexities (and contradictions) of racist generalizations remains bracing,” and even went so far as to call it a “blistering and incisive portrait of urban alienation and intolerance that's largely unsullied by…painful didacticism.” All pretty bold statements, especially considering my stated reservations about the film’s visual style, its aping of Magnolia and, in my drawn-out opening reference to an Upright Citizens Brigade episode (which I still think is a hilarious bit of cinephile-skewering), its dunderheaded dialogue-delivered explanation of its own title.

An okay film that both stimulated and aggravated me – nothing wonderful, nothing awful. Yet half a year later, with the praise and vitriol amplifying to equally ludicrous degrees, I felt compelled – despite my disinterest in doing so – to revisit the film. And what, pray tell, did I discover? Pretty much what I expected. Crash isn’t as good as my three-star review rating implies; two stars, maybe two-and-a-half on a really generous day, would more than suffice. It’s a heavy-handed slab of moralizing moviemaking cut from last year’s well-worn cinematic liberal guilt cloth, and its solid performances from Terrence Howard and Thandie Newton are largely overwhelmed by the film’s unrealistic, pretentious and often-patronizing preachiness about race-relations. The cinematographic slow-motion still drives me nuts, the coincidences are convenient to the point of unbearable, and for all the blunt talk about those-who-are-not-like-us – which I still think, despite the lack of a believable context, has a provocative power – it winds up merely confirming the not-very-shocking fact that everyone harbors some unseemly stereotypical opinions.

That said, I nonetheless don’t see what all the fuss is about. Crash’s detractors act as if the film is a malevolent force corrupting our national conscience with dangerously misleading ideas about race, rather than simply going overboard in earnestly attempting to tackle how various societal groups think about, and interact with, each other. Even stranger is the argument that the film is so clueless about how true racism really manifests itself – not a contention I completely disagree with, mind you – that it could only be believed by a sheltered boob who’d never actually experienced racism first-hand – a patently absurd claim that’s pretty funny when coming from light-skinned intellectuals. Unabashedly manipulative it may be (especially with the child-in-peril scene, which I admit gets to my still-blossoming protective-dad heartstrings), and graceless at regular intervals, the film nonetheless seems to be driven by decent intentions, something one could argue isn’t true of The Constant Gardener or Syriana, two other misguided attempts to address pertinent issues.

So to recap: Paul Haggis’ movie is neither the best or worst film of the year. It exists in the same place as most of last year’s new releases – somewhere in the boring, forgettable, mediocre middle. Although I have to admit that, having now written 700 more words about a film I don’t really care about, I’m slowly beginning to develop my own case of Crash-aphobia…

February 17, 2006

When Titles Go Wrong

SnakeReally bad movies may be a dime a dozen, but really bad movie titles are surprisingly rare. Nonetheless, two upcoming films - one that's definitely happening, and one that seems to be little more than a rumor - have the potential to make bad movie title history. How studios decided to finance projects with such names is beyond me. But hey, I guess that's why I'm not a studio chief.

Snakes on a Plane - From the director of Cellular (?!?) comes this Samuel L. Jackson (?!?) vehicle about an assasin who, in order to kill a witness on a plane, opens up a crate full of snakes. No, I'm not kidding. I feel like I could spend hours making jokes about this film. The good people over at the Internet Movie Database's forums, however, have more than done the job for me.

Brutal Deluxe - If there's a God, I'm sure He wants to see this movie. Seriously. This simply has to happen.

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