Review: Haywire (2011)

Directed by: Steven Soderbergh
Starring: Gina Carano, Ewan Mc Gregor, Michael Fassbender

With the twilight of his career looming precariously on the horizon, Steven Soderbergh seems to be amping up his game substantially to further strengthen his already prolific and well-above average standing within the realm of contemporary cinema. While last year’s Contagion was, for all intents and purposes, an able-bodied examination of a world thrown into chaos following a disease outbreak, it failed to leave a lasting impression despite positive critical reception and Soderbergh’s technical expertise. The auteur’s second effort from yesteryear, Haywire, of which was questionably postponed until this first month of 2012, is essentially a streamlined action-thriller that marks a vast deparature from Soderbergh’s previous offering and remains more engaging in light of its tendency to alienate viewers who aren’t fully invested in its lead character and often complex narrative.

As an action-infused romp in the vein of what we’re used to, i.e. James Bond and the like, Haywire aptly fits the bill in both being more of the same and yet a whole lot more. The film’s screenplay, penned by Soderbergh’s previous collaborator Lem Dobbs, prides itself on keeping us in the dark pertaining to just how and why femme fatale-for-hire Mallory Kane (Gina Carano) was sold down the river by the organization she’d worked for all the years prior to said incident. We’re fed a scrap or two of pertinent information here and there, but for the most part, the characters Mallory interacts with are mostly superfluous up until the truth behind their involvement’s revealed during its latter moments. An appealing gimmick, indeed, but in the grand scheme of things, and forgive me for beating a dead horse, the approach is sure to lose those not immediately taken by the proceedings, and intermittent flashes of the shady dealings leading up to the present aren’t particularly helpful right from the get-go.

Inherent (and appealing) complexity aside, it’s fairly easy to piece everything together as things move briskly along, the film amply utilizing its purposefully bombastic score and fantastic visual aesthetic to add considerably to its overall appeal. Haywire‘s expertly choreographed fight scenes are easily the film’s most compelling sequences, with Carano’s Kane physically dominating each and every bout with enough vigor to impress even the most battle-hardened of viewers. Her imposing premise and the character’s unending drive to clear her name are two of Haywire‘s more compelling and subsequently definining attributes, and the previously unchronicled sect of super-soldiers she works with remains captivating by way of how little we’ve seen this approach to your typical espionage-infused actioner.

The cast, notoriety aside, doesn’t really bring anything substantial to the table outside of Carano herself, proving to just about everyone that she’s a more than capable leading lady, if only within this particular niche of filmmaking. Given the obviousness of the initial trailers, the efforts of Fassbender are rendered negligible even though his character plays a vital role in the events surrounding Ms. Kane’s setup. The same goes for Carano’s unwilling accomplice, portrayed by Michael Angarano, her former collaborator/brief love interest (Channing Tatum), her boss (Ewan McGregor) and those he recently embarked on a shady backalley transaction with for his own personal gain (Antonio Banderas and Michael Douglas). Despite the majority of this ensemble cast failing to live up to Carano’s surprising conviction as the female lead, the characters themselves serve to aptly keep the ball rolling as Mallory’s quest for vengeance chugs along unhindered to the film’s gratifying climax.

In light of Haywire‘s blatant tendency to confuse those not willing to pay attention to the subtle intricacies of Dobbs’ screenplay, the film in question bears Soderbergh’s trademark flair while unabashedly flaunting star Gina Carano’s physical prowess as a mercenary-for-hire that simply won’t rest until her once flawless reputation has been restored. Both appealingly complex and littered with some rather stellar action sequences, Soderbergh’s latest effort is an artfully constructed genre film that transcends convention despite its more obvious shortcomings. It isn’t a masterpiece, but as an engaging, visually stimulating and flat-out original approach to a formula we’ve seen tackled now and again, Haywire stands tall at the front of the pack.

Rating: 7/10

My 10 Most Anticipated Films of 2012

We’re a week into 2012, and I feel comfortable enough sharing with you my most anticipated films of the remainder of the year. It isn’t anything special, and I’m sure there will be more to add as the proverbial diamonds in the rough make their rounds on the festival circuit, but in the meantime, these titles are those I’ve set my sights on. If you’re feeling bold, make sure to comment and voice your own picks. Enjoy!

Haywire (dir. Steven Soderbergh) – The twilight of his career looming precariously on the horizon, Mr. Soderbergh’s decided to tackle several niches of the cinematic spectrum he hasn’t entirely familiarized himself with. This time, the end product takes the form of an action-packed espionage thriller in the vein of Mission:Impossible, starring female MMA dynamo Gina Carano and quite literally every presently relevant A-list actor. The trailers look promising enough, and I assume there isn’t much to be said about the central story arc that hasn’t been found within similar films, but I have enough faith in Soderbergh to see this one through to its end. Haywire opens wide on January 20th.

Seeking a Friend for the End of the World (dir. Lorene Scafaria) – As a particularly grim yet supposedly comedic (at least mildly) take on your typical end-of-the-world scenario, Seeking a Friend for the End of the World boasts a pretty stellar ensemble cast and a premise that has always caught my eye regardless of poor execution. Little else is known about the project other than it focuses on a man (Steve Carrell) who takes it upon himself to seek out his former high school sweetheart after his wife flees in terror upon learning of an asteroid on a collision course with Earth. Seeking a Friend for the End of the World opens wide on April 20th.

The Five-Year Engagement (dir. Nicholas Stoller) – Given how much I adore both Segel’s brand of humor and 2008′s alternately hilarious and emotionally honest Forgetting Sarah Marshall, this second pairing (excluding The Muppets) of Segel and long-time partner Nicholas Stoller is an immediate sell, and the trailer unabashedly showcases the same seriocomic sensibilities I’ve always taken a liking to regarding contemporary, if more often hackneyed romantic comedies. Fingers crossed for this one, especially. The Five-Year Engagement opens wide on April 27th.

Moonrise Kingdom (dir. Wes Anderson) – It goes without saying that Wes Anderson’s latest would make an appearance on this list, but with a refreshing 1960s setting and central premise as peculiar as they come, at least for Anderson, I can’t help but wonder if Moonrise Kingdom will effectively mark a mild departure for the auteur while still sporting the trademark flair his earlier productions have always carried with them. Moonrise Kingdom opens wide on May 25th.

Magic Mike (dir. Steven Soderbergh) – The second of Soderbergh’s dwindling filmography to be featured on this list, I can’t quite grasp the auteur’s aim with the material, focusing on an upstart male stripper and his newfound mentor, of whom is portrayed by former male stripper and wooden actor extraordinaire Channing Tatum. Whether this will prove to be Soderbergh’s Showgirls or not is to be determined, but from the looks of things, it at least sounds interesting enough to warrant my attendance opening day. Magic Mike opens wide on June 29th.

Warm Bodies (dir. Jonathan Levine) – ZOMBIES. I’m sure we’re all sick and tired of the zombie apocalypse and its overbearing prevalence in Hollywood, however when regarding Jonathan Levine’s adaptation of the novel of the same title, think of Warm Bodies as a zombie romance, centering on the undead R as the consumption of a suicidal teen’s brain causes him to fall inexplicably in love with his victim’s girlfriend. Simple, yes, but the cult status of the novel itself and Levine’s direction should ensure that Warm Bodies receives the attention it deserves, even if it ends up being nothing but a misfire. Warm Bodies opens wide on August 10th.

Looper (dir. Rian Johnson) – Once again banking on a fledgling auteur’s initial success to serve as a precursor for future success, Rian Johnson’s dystopian sci-fi thriller stars one of my favorite working actors and boasts a particularly thin yet undeniably intriguing premise involving a contract killer’s obvious quandary in offing his future self. Looper opens wide on September 28th.

Savages (dir. Oliver Stone) – Oliver Stone and I have never really seen eye to eye. This aside, Savages, on the surface, seems to hold enough general appeal to push my unfavorable opinion of him to the side in an effort to enjoy this tale of two stoners who wage war against the Mexican drug runners that kidnapped their shared girlfriend. Absurd? Absolutely, but frankly, I don’t care; entertainment value is always worth the price of admission. Savages opens wide on September 29th.

Django Unchained (dir. Quentin Tarantino) – As a god amongst men, Quentin Tarantino has consistently produced some of the more worthwhile labors of the industry time and time again, and with Django Unchained, I doubt this particular trend will cease. Appearing to be yet another departure from familiar territory and starring an exceptionally well-rounded cast, waiting until December for this one will really test my patience. Django Unchained releases wide on December 25th.

Celeste and Jesse Forever (dir. Lee Toland Krieger) – Having been blown away by Lee Toland Krieger’s previous effort, a biting, exceedingly dark character study by the name of The Vicious Kind, I have especially high hopes for this one given Krieger’s apparent ability to deftly blend dark humor with straightforward melodrama. With Andy Samberg and Rashida Jones starring as the titular couple, this will also give Samberg a chance to prove to us that he’s at least mildly versatile in his acting abilities. Release date TBA.

My Top 10 Films of 2011

I’ve seen a lot of pretty terrible things this year both in and outside of theaters. A LOT. In fact, to say that 2011 in general was a pretty lackluster year for cinema wouldn’t be too far from the truth much to the chagrin of my closest cinephile cohorts. Aside from not seeing a good chunk of my top ten in theaters due to their very limited theatrical releases, this unfortunate defining attribute was most likely brought about thanks to a record-breaking number of adaptations, remakes and sequels, almost all of which were either unnecessary or a complete waste of time.

Agree or disagree, you can’t help but wonder just why the lesser-known, infinitely more worthwhile labors of the industry aren’t as appreciated as the next Transformers sequel always is. An oft discussed, moreover redundant topic as of late, however it’s always good to keep stuff like this at the forefront of your mind in an attempt to appreciate what actually deserves appreciation come awards season. It goes without saying that I didn’t quite get the chance to see everything I hoped to see throughout 2011, but the above average efforts I had the pleasure of seeing have rightfully earned their spots on this list for a multitude of reasons, even if I was partially let down by a handful of hopefuls.

Honorable mentions (in alphabetical order): 50/50, Crazy, Stupid, Love., Hanna, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2, I Saw the Devil, Mission: Impossible Ghost Protocol, Road to Nowhere, Source Code, Win Win

10. Bellflower (dir. Evan Glodell)

Having built from scratch every contraption featured in his debut effort, writer/director/star Evan Glodell was undoubtedly devoted to and infinitely invested in completing this visually compelling passion project. Likening a startlingly unceremonious breakup to the apocalypse on account of two best friends’ lifelong obsession with Mad Max, Glodell divides his sprawling, frequently distressing narrative into chapters, blurring the lines between gross over-exaggeration and reality with surprising finesse. Despite a noticeably amateurish cast that may or may not appeal to those who’ve had the pleasure of viewing this festival darling, the aforementioned visual panache contributed by Glodell’s handcrafted camera rig couples well with Bellflower‘s violent tonal shifts and intended feel. Negligible as some of the more emotionally-driven squabbles are in the wake of the more testosterone-fueled side of things, Bellflower does manage to have a heart as we follow Glodell’s Woodrow through an admittedly tough time.

9. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (dir. David Fincher)

Hard-hitting in its subject matter and masterful in its presentation, David Fincher’s adaptation of the best-selling source material is a true testament to the auteur’s abilities as a filmmaker. While the central story arc itself, in all honesty, is nothing more than a run-of-the-mill murder mystery, the proceedings are heightened substantially by Fincher’s raw, visceral visual flair, a pitch-perfect score and, of course, Rooney Mara in an unforgettable turn as the titular computer hacker. Although it sometimes inadvertently serves merely to outline the faults and obvious shortcomings of the novel itself, the film remains appropriately tense and engaging where it counts and never once feels like the nearly three-hour slog its run time suggests. Full review here.

8. Beginners (dir. Mike Mills)

“Cutesy” as it certainly and very often is, Mike Mills’ Beginners ability to deftly (if very subtly) address the existential crises we can find ourselves grappling with as constantly changing individuals ensure that the film remains touching as can be. While its self-indulgent, almost hip sense of style can prove to be alienating at times, an extraordinarily endearing cast of characters and the overbearing sweetness of it all pair wonderfully with Beginners‘ easily discernible underlying themes, even as some aspects of the narrative feel clumsily implemented or undercooked.

7. We Need to Talk About Kevin (dir. Lynne Ramsay)

A harrowing, purely visceral genre-bending effort from writer/director Lynne Ramsay, this adaptation of Lionel Shriver’s novel of the same title is as distressing as it is masterful in its artistic sensibilities. With simply stellar performances across the board, We Need to Talk About Kevin doesn’t once opt for easy answers as it examines the complexities of childhood and a mother’s inevitable feelings of self-loathing and questionable guilt on account of an unspeakable tragedy committed by her only son. Remaining steadfast in its intentions as the film bleakly chugs along to its undeniably gripping latter act, We Need to Talk About Kevin is as hard-hitting as it is a prime example of cinematic excellence during a year when we needed more like it.

6. Shame (dir. Steve McQueen)

Artfully constructed without being too heavy-handed in addressing the seriousness behind its central character’s perpetual struggle with sex addiction, Steve McQueen’s sophomore effort isn’t intended for the conservative or squeamish yet it almost perfectly illustrates this individual’s heartbreaking journey to the very bottom of an ocean of anguish. While Fassbender’s Brandon’s sexual escapades may often prove to be gratuitous in nature, the introduction of his sister Sissy, aptly portrayed by Carey Mulligan, insists that the film aims to address how difficult it is for these two severely damaged beings to coexist as much as it intends to hit home as a startlingly authentic, gut-wrenching portrait of a helpless sex addict. Full review here.

5. Moneyball (dir. Bennett Miller)

While on the surface appearing to be nothing more than your run-of-the-mill fact-based sports biopic, Moneyball admirably defies convention by effectively humanizing an otherwise straightforward snoozefest, allowing us to amply sympathize with Brad Pitt’s Billy Beane as his implementation of Sabermetrics into his ailing ball club’s allotted budget reaches far beyond a base level of understanding. Sure, baseball-centric shop talk predictably spews from the characters’ mouths at frequent intervals, yet it’s all presented in a way that can be easily understood and appreciated by fans of the sport and non-fans alike, remaining similar to last year’s The Social Network in its sheer level of engagement. As human emotions reign supreme over its equally more compelling sequences chronicling Beane’s mounting stress both on and off the field, the relationships that exist between central characters feel real, coupling wonderfully with everything else Moneyball has to offer including an absolutely fantastic pair of performances from Brad Pitt and Jonah Hill. Full review here.

4. Young Adult (dir. Jason Reitman)

Shining the spotlight on particularly detestable characters is admittedly a tough sell in Hollywood, which is precisely why using them as a film’s focal point is a lesser explored niche of filmmaking. With Young Adult, Diablo Cody and Jason Reitman unite once again to bring us a scathingly funny yet increasingly dark and morose character study examining the perils of prolonged adolescence. It isn’t necessarily the happiest of affairs, but Cody’s noticeable departure from her quirkier roots and Reitman’s steady hand behind the camera help us sympathize with this infinitely flawed individual despite her inability to simply grow up, making Young Adult a darkly unique affair that’s sure to polarize audiences, yet I found very little to dislike about Mavis and her alcohol-infused debauchery.

3. Like Crazy (dir. Drake Doremus)

Standing tall as an all-too-hard-hitting commentary on both the difficulty of maintaining (exceptionally) long distance relationships and the questionable permanence and understanding of true love, the film starts off shaky but quickly finds its proverbial sea legs. You really get a feel for how desperately these individuals long to be with one another; something that becomes particularly distressing as you come to realize just how difficult it is for them to avoid personal and professional growth at such a young age, both of which will undeniably have a detrimental effect on their already floundering relationship. All things considered, Drake Doremus’ semi-autobiographical anti-love story is agreeably traumatic, however to deny its general appeal from an emotionally resonant standpoint is damn near impossible given the charm and authenticity of the situations presented, mostly thanks to the fledgling auteur’s fully improvisational approach and a pair of knockout leads. Full review here.

2. Midnight in Paris (dir. Woody Allen)

Simultaneously establishing itself as both a love letter for its Parisian setting and a wonderfully insightful, fantastical examination of the human condition, Midnight in Paris is, simply put, pure bliss. While not as thematically dense as Allen’s past ruminations on similar topics, the notoriously neurotic auteur forgoes substance in favor of embracing a more whimsical and artfully constructed mash-up of several different eras of art and literary history. Remaining engaging in several respects as Allen’s trademark wit permeates this near perfect,  aesthetically flawless and plain fun examination of what it’s like struggling to find a sense of personal and professional self-worth during a time it begins to matter most. Full review here.

1. Drive (dir. Nicolas Winding Refn)

As both a self-satisfying passion project for all involved and a prime example of cinematic mastery in a time when we needed it most, Nicolas Winding Refn’s raw, breathtakingly and tastefully stylish Drive sits atop this list for all the right reasons. Standing tall as a captivating, ultraviolent neo-noir, Refn and the gang set out to make a film lover’s film that’s accessible and benefits endlessly from its appealing minimalistic subject matter, stunning locales and wonderfully implemented action sequences, all of which are complimented by a stellar soundtrack and pitch-perfect 80s-infused score from Cliff Martinez. Gosling reigns supreme as the super-imposing Driver, and stellar efforts from the supporting cast further benchmark this welcome rarity in the realm of contemporary cinema.

Review: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2011)

Directed by: David Fincher
Starring: Daniel Craig, Rooney Mara, Christopher Plummer

Considering roughly one out of four releases looming on the horizon are adaptations based on their best-selling literary mediums, this now tiresome trend has still managed to remain one of the more widely accepted ones in Hollywood. As for the wilder side of things, pre-existing foreign takes on their source material have been getting the A-list English language treatment as of late, making themselves inherently more accessible to a wider audience at the risk of discrediting what the original film had to offer. Make of this what you will, but the fact of the matter is last year’s Let Me In effectively set the bar high for this questionable new format, assuring us that director Matt Reeves’ ambition in pairing his signature style with literally the same central premise helped his go with the material come out on top. This time around, David Fincher has once again done the unthinkable in surpassing his effort’s Swedish-language counterpart in nearly every way, flaunting his renowned, impeccable visual flair to compliment the amount of general appeal his steady hand has managed to pump into the film’s rather mundane literary roots.

From the moment the dazzling introductory credits begin to roll, you can immediately assume that Fincher had no intention of letting his version of Dragon Tattoo fall victim to any number of criticisms that go hand-in-hand with the circumstances surrounding the production’s inception. Fully embracing the auteur’s ability to engross from an aesthetic standpoint while keeping even the most overstuffed and sometimes uneventful narratives moving along at a nice clip, the film never once feels like the slog its nearly three-hour run time suggests it should be. Remaining true to its roots as an appropriately brutal, remarkably tense piece of work even amid the source material’s by-the-books murder mystery framework, the film’s strongest suits become easily identifiable as true testaments to Fincher’s prowess as a visionary among those deemed less fortunate.

While not having seen the Swedish film in its entirety, I can only imagine that certain elements weren’t handled as deftly on account of this version’s flawless implementation of an equally flawless score to effectively set each and every mood as they wash over us in droves. As the plot inevitably thickens during the film’s admittedly most appealing second act, it’s quite surprising how utterly compelling the proceedings become given how mundane it all is on the surface. This aside, Fincher’s steady hand in nimbly splicing in relevant and simply stunning flashback sequences transform monotony into sheer entertainment as tension builds and builds right up until the expertly executed final reveal. All things considered, Dragon Tattoo eventually manages to falter as its final act ventures into the realm of the superfluous, incorporating what will appeal to fans of the novel while feeling a bit unnecessary to those captivated by the bulk of the proceedings.

By now, you’ve probably familiarized yourself with Miss Rooney Mara and the recognition she’s been receiving for her role as the troubled titular computer hacker Lisbeth Salander. As far as role committal goes, it’s easy to give credit where it’s due in acknowledging how captivating her performance is in nearly every regard, remaining in firm command of each and every scene even in the presence of her more recognizable male lead. While Craig’s efforts are noteworthy, Plummer and Skarsgard’s as well in light of their prolonged lack of presence, they simply can’t hold a candle to Mara given the cards her character’s dealt throughout the sometimes distressing events that take place.

Once again, Hollywood’s done a bang-up job in presenting us with an above average adaptation of a lackluster novel that’s been transformed into something spectacular by those behind and in front of the camera. Deftly blending his way with material of this type as the film remains brutal, gritty as such and wonderfully compelling regardless of the lackluster source material, David Fincher’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is quite the year-end cinematic achievement. With a simply fantastic, presumably award-worthy performance from Rooney Mara and serviceable efforts across the board from the rest of the supporting cast, the proceedings never once cease to draw you in despite a questionable adherence to some narrative fat that could’ve been trimmed for consistency’s sake.

Rating: 8/10

Review: Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol (2011)

Directed by: Brad Bird
Starring: Tom Cruise, Jeremy Renner, Simon Pegg

The Mission: Impossible franchise, despite its longevity and apparent popularity among those who don’t know any better, has had some trouble in figuring out just whether or not its next installment will be its last. Maybe it’s because each new director thinks they can outdo their immediate predecessor, or maybe it’s because the powers that be felt as if the films should merely stop taking themselves so seriously. Either way, M:I 3 was a welcome departure from the series’ convoluted roots, forgoing any semblance of valuable substance in favor of giving us hi-tech gadgetry to ogle, a textbook villain to hate for obvious reasons and a bare bones objective for the IMF team to tackle as grandiose action set pieces unsubtly litter the entire the production. To put it plainly, J.J. Abrams was on the right track outside of a questionable adherence to human emotion, and with Ghost Protocol, the series’ fourth (and hopefully final) director Brad Bird has done a bang-up job in implementing everything we’re expected to care about in relation to how much fun we’re expected to have.

For as purposefully over-the-top each installment’s been, but a small fraction of them have been at least partially grounded in reality, ensuring that while Mr. Hunt and the gang inevitably complete the task at hand, they still manage to take their fair share of licks in the process. Ghost Protocol rings the truest in this regard, regularly beating the piss out of Cruise’s titular character and his cohorts as one excellently choreographed action sequence segues almost immediately into the next. Thankfully, such a characteristic leaves little to no room for excess emotional baggage, and while the requisite amount is still present so as to give these hollow, one-track-minded individuals a heart, it all becomes negligible once things start to go bang all over again.

It goes without saying that the film’s ability to engage from a purely visceral, action-oriented standpoint is easily its strongest suit, and to try and perceive the laughably uninspired central story arc as something more than it is would be foolish on your part. I mean, if you’ve seen one post-Cold War threat of nuclear war against the United States, you’ve probably seen ‘em all. Wafer thin and sometimes ridiculous as the narrative becomes, Brad Bird manages string together each compelling, frequently tense scenario with surprising finesse, ensuring us that the last thing the film wants to do is take itself too seriously.

Coupled with an obvious overabundance of tech wizardry, the characters in M:I 4 are presumably black-and-white; portrayed with surprising conviction by Cruise and the gang while remaining likable as heroes or detestable as villains. While Cruise, Jeremy Renner, Simon Pegg and even Paula Patton do wonders with their respective roles, the film seems to center primarily around them preventing the nuclear apocalypse that’s been set in motion by an almost invisible mastermind, of whom has a peculiar, sometimes distracting lack of screen time. In fact, it isn’t until the film’s latter act that we really get a glimpse of Michael Nyqvist’s far less than intimidating Hendricks, forcing me to question just why the film would choose to do a complete 180 and forgo providing us with someone as ever-present as Philip Seymour Hoffman’s Owen Davian: an individual that made this film’s immediate predecessor as good as it was.

All things considered, Mission: Impossible Ghost Protocol is an action junkie’s wet dream. Combining stunning, expertly choreographed action set pieces with but a tinge of human emotion while remaining appealingly grounded in reality, Brad Bird’s first foray into the realm of live-action cinema is a pretty tremendous success. With fantastic performances across the board from Cruise and his supporting cast of underlings, the fourth film in this exceptionally long-running franchise is a true testament to what it could’ve been all along outside of an achingly mundane central premise and a not-so-compelling criminal mastermind at its core. Needless to say, it isn’t without its more obvious flaws, yet the entire production’s just plain enjoyable enough to almost force you to look past them.

Rating: 7/10

Review: Young Adult (2011)

Directed by: Jason Reitman
Starring: Charlize Theron, Patton Oswalt, Patrick Wilson

There’s no denying that Diablo Cody made a big splash with her unbearably quirky, timely and somewhat poignant debut Juno, winning herself an Oscar and subsequently establishing a name for herself in the process. While both the production in question and Cody’s sophomore effort (Jennifer’s Body) pride themselves on chronic overuse of pithy, self-indulgent dialogue, I began to alternately loathe her initial feature-length efforts and question her intentions with her latest, the Jason Reitman-helmed Young Adult. Much to my surprise, this second teaming of the previously dynamic duo yields a different type of success, of which prides itself on being an agreeably dark, exceptionally humorous and even socially relevant character study that examines an infinitely flawed individual in a masterful fashion.

Unashamedly designating detestable characters as a film’s focal point(s) has always proven to be a risky move, considering filmgoers simply will or won’t be able to withstand any and all amounts of self-detructive behavior and prolonged narcicism. Last year’s Greenberg was and still is a prime example of this, and while these two films remain similar on a base level, Reitman’s sojourn through this territory comes out on top thanks to a bold sense of self-realized originality. Focusing on one Mavis Gary as her overwhelmingly adolescent mindset and naivety drives her to foolishly pursue an old flame still residing in their hometown, a slew of blatant self-absorption and uneasy reunions ensue as things quickly (and predictably) don’t go according to plan.

Being a ghost writer for a fast-fading series of young adult novels, Mavis’ prose unsubtly begins to serve as a sort of romanticized metaphor for her life while she continually shows her true colors as a full-fledged adult embodying a rather scathing and immature past form of herself. Unlikable as the character should be and certainly is, Cody has so deftly and meticulously crafted this individual so as to make it hard not to sympathize her to some extent as she unwittingly digs herself into an even deeper hole. Confiding only in a former fellow student as her efforts to win back her high school sweeheart inevitably unravel at the hands of her grand delusions and burgeoning alcholism, Mavis’ escapades aren’t particularly dense from a thematic standpoint, yet a fantastic sense of humor helps the film strike a competent balance between the blackest comedy and something much more distressing.

As a rather divisive twist is implemented within the latter act; a twist I found to be most effective despite being a blatant effort to force us to pity our female lead, Young Adult benefits endlessly from some magnificent casting choices. The aforementioned appealing blend of disparate moods is amplified tenfold by Theron’s proverbial knockout performance, embodying each and every one of Mavis’ glaringly debillitating flaws with unrivaled conviction to help Young Adult‘s darker side hit that much harder. Patton Oswalt also establishes himself as a wonderful asset, bringing as much straightforward charm to the table as he does insight behind Mavis’ steady decline and increasingly ridiculous demeanor, while Patrick Wilson and the rest of the supporting cast round out the bunch to make Young Adult one of the more well-acted films of the past year.

As a refreshing departure from your typical black comedic effort, Young Adult shines almost endlessly as an alternately hilarious and rather bleak character study that treads where others clearly haven’t thanks to how bold the film is in its intentions. Flawlessly depicting the rotten, self-destructive individual at its core, both writer and director have achieved perfect harmony in effectively illustrating the perils of failing to grow up time and time again, forcing Mavis to continually fall victim to her already crippling naivety. With stellar performances across the board and a fairly effective climax that either will or won’t feel like a divisive emotional cop-out on Ms. Cody’s part, Young Adult succeeds thanks to its sheer deftness in tackling such an appealing, seldom seen and even timely central premise.

Rating: 8/10

Review: The Descendants (2011)

Directed by: Alexander Payne
Starring: George Clooney, Shailene Woodley, Amara Miller

Following a peculiar seven-year absence, Alexander Payne has burst back onto the scene with his latest and much-anticipated The Descendants. Given a nearly impeccable, virtually spotless track record in casually addressing the bleaker, emotionally driven aspects of the human condition while deftly blending in his now trademark wit, to expect nothing but the best from him is inevitable. In a rather surprising turn of events, Payne has instead less-than-masterfully provided us with a platter stacked high with mediocrity, leaving me in much dismay as I still scratch my head trying to figure out why The Descendants remains so clumsy in its sensibilities, continually forcing you to sympathize with the central characters in a sometimes tasteless, barely effective fashion.

Startling myself as I read back that introductory paragraph, I almost feel ashamed to express the many gripes I had with this particular 2011 hopeful. Reluctance aside, it’s hard to believe that any filmgoer enjoys being told what to feel by the central protagonist. While literal instances of this aren’t entirely present, this is the vibe we get from Clooney’s narration as the opening sequences unsubtly lay the groundwork for what’s to come within the next two hours. Is this nothing more than blatant adherence to the source material? Possibly, yet the film seems to falter in several other regards that prohibit it from being all it could’ve been.

Chronic hand-holding ensues as Clooney’s absentee father/husband stereotype bumbles through several cliched self-discoveries, most of which are brought about by several other factual rumblings dealing with the lesser-known niches of his estranged (comatose) wife’s life. During this time, we come to recognize Mr. King as a generally kindhearted individual, inadvertently yet mindlessly distancing himself from his daughters over the years so as to add another predictably resolvable issue to the script’s big fat sappy “To Do” list. For what it’s worth, the emotions exhibited during certain scenes feel authentic to the point where we can at least garner a favorable opinion of all involved, so it’s easy enough to just sit back and enjoy the ride thanks to this and Payne and the gang’s implementation of the film’s purposefully inappropriate and effective sense of humor.

Despite everything existing on a base level, leaving complexity behind in favor of spoon-feeding us each and every mood or catharsis, the film’s performances are generally where The Descendants manages to get its act together. Mundane as the proceedings often are, it’s hard to dislike Clooney’s Matt King even as one begins to realize that his wife’s coma was the only thing helping rekindle his sense of responsibility as a family man. He doesn’t always make the best decisions along the bumpy road to recovery and eventual redemption in his eyes and those of his daughters, yet you can’t deny Clooney’s commitment to illustrating this character’s initially disagreeable nature. Shailene Woodley has also been generating a lot of buzz for her “breakthrough” performance, and rightfully so, but truth be told, if you’ve seen one portrayal of a foul-mouthed rebellious teen you’ve probably seen ‘em all.

In the end, The Descendants is yet another prime example of how high expectations can sometimes lead to monumental disappointments. This in mind, Alexander Payne’s latest isn’t necessarily the year’s worst – it’s far from it, believe me – only its glaring inability to surpass convention as a typically sappy dysfunctional family drama keeps it from being something more. It has a certain charm about it that helps make the proceedings a bit more enjoyable if only on a base level, and Clooney’s dedication to flawlessly portraying the flawed individual at the film’s core is something to behold as Payne remains steadfast in his intentions with the script and source material. While equally funny and heartfelt like the auteur’s earlier efforts certainly are, The Descendants just can’t fit the bill as anything but ordinary.

Rating: 5/10

Review: Immortals (2011)

Directed by: Tarsem Singh
Starring: Henry Cavill, Mickey Rourke, John Hurt

People tend to swoon over Greek mythology. I can only speculate as to why, but something tells me that visually compelling bloodbaths and well-oiled, particularly massive male warriors are things that can be openly admired by both sexes, at least to some extent. Much to our dismay, visual feasts are precisely and solely what these projects are, what with last year’s Clash of the Titans and Zack Snyder’s 300 immediately coming to mind given the production credit that’s been drilled into our heads in the days and weeks leading up to Immortals‘ theatrical release. Fast and loose as the latter and most recent effort plays with the aforementioned mythos, Mr. Singh is ultimately forced to stretch a remarkably inane script to fit snugly within the film’s nearly two-hour run time, prompting one to think that maybe there isn’t much hope left for the subgenre after all.

Establishing itself as nothing more than wafer-thin schlock relatively early on, Immortals, like its spiritual predecessors, could’ve at least found partial solace in some agreeably engaging, era-appropriate dialogue, yet what we’re ungracefully presented with is a cheesy misinterpretation of what the screenwriters thought that was. Such a flaw should be negligible given the presumably testosterone-infused nature of it all, yet the characters themselves are so genuinely uninteresting, the general goings-on so mundane and embarrassingly one-track-minded, that there’s very little to appreciate even on a base level. Maybe I just can’t appreciate some good ol’ tyrant-king-seeks-ultimate-bow lore, but if you ask me, this drivel is completely devoid of valuable substance.

To its obvious credit, Immortals carries with it director Tarsem Singh’s established, signature visual style, however the film stills seems to be plagued by certain inconsistencies that take away from the otherwise breathtaking CG-infused locales. While the costume design is equally impressive from a purely superficial standpoint, what’s bound to come to mind at any point is the film’s propensity toward sporadic and gratuitous violent temper tantrums. I use the word tantrum of course to describe its tendency to frequently disinterest at long intervals before throwing a few arterial sprays and rolling heads into the mix for our satisfaction and variety’s sake. Collectively, these sequences are all we have to look forward to on account of how little these cookie-cutter characters have to offer otherwise, so the fact that the proceedings culminate in one magnificently choreographed brawl between gods and titans is at least marginally gratifying.

The performances in Immortals are forgettable at best, suggesting that the cast literally couldn’t do anything with a script as inept as the one Charley and Vlas Parlapanides have crafted for them. Cavill’s efforts are predictably admirable given his rising star status, if barely, yet the biggest and assuredly most disappointing aspect of it all has to be Rourke’s clear lack of emotional involvement and general interest in quite literally everything that’s going on around him. As King Hyperion, all the actor really has to show for himself are his mildly intimidating physical features, of which help him at least fit the part as the tyrant dead set on unleashing Hell on Earth thanks to a few dozen throat cuttings and bouts of physical punishment issued toward his incompetent subordinates. As for the Gods themselves, their peculiar lack of involvement throughout suggests that their efforts can almost be rendered null and void, which is almost precisely the case, but their valiant attempt to save the day during Immortals‘ particularly blood-drenched climax at least fits them into the same category as Sir Rourke, assuring us that no one really had any interest in at least attempting to make the best of the hand they were dealt.

As another prime example of squandered potential in year of chronic disappointment, Tarsem Singh’s Immortals carries the proverbial torch. While playing admirably fast and loose with an easily recognizable sect of Greek mythology, a simply dreadful, inconsequential and vastly uninteresting script unceremoniously diverts our attention from Singh’s mostly stunning sense of style and some breathtaking locales and set pieces. With characters as bland as they come and nothing going for it outside of some sleek, expertly choreographed blood-drenched sideshows, the latter of which may not even appeal to some, a vast majority of the proceedings are just too dull to recommend to anyone at all. In short, Immortals certainly won’t live on forever like the Gods at its core certainly should; it’ll vanish off the grid long before anyone even notices its gone.

Rating: 3/10

Playing Catch-up: The Home Stretch

After unceremoniously plopping myself down in a theater seat to suffer through yet another handful of 2011′s hopefuls, I found it necessary to return once more with my thoughts on some titles I’d missed upon their initial release. While a mixed bag all the same, a majority of what I watched was actually enjoyable, therefore my second go with this little experiment proved to be much more successful.

Beginners (dir. Mike Mills)

“Cutesy” as it certainly and very often is, Mike Mills’ Beginners ability to deftly (if very subtly) address the existential crises we can find ourselves grappling with as constantly changing individuals ensure that the film remains touching as can be. While its self-indulgent, almost hip sense of style can prove to be alienating at times, an extraordinarily endearing cast of characters and the overbearing sweetness of it all pair wonderfully with Beginners‘ easily discernible underlying themes, even as some aspects of the narrative feel clumsily implemented or undercooked.

Road to Nowhere (dir. Monte Hellman)

Functioning wonderfully as both a competent neo-noir and a multifaceted psychological drama that challenges as well as entertains, veteran auteur Monte Hellman’s latest is a diamond in the rough compared to heaping pile of 2011′s hopefuls. While the term “multifaceted” can often translate to “overstuffed,” Road to Nowhere‘s oft complex narrative structuring rarely ceases to entertain despite a penchant for self-indulgence and a tendency to altogether bewilder. If you want to stray from the beaten path, I highly suggest you give this off-the-grid gem a go, providing you’re willing to give it your undivided attention.

Captain America: The First Avenger (dir. Joe Johnston)

Bursting onto the scene just as I was about to recover from an adaptation overdose, Captain America stands tall as the most uninteresting pick of the litter as era-appropriate cheese galore and bland, uninspired action set pieces pave the way to mediocrity. To give credit where credit’s due, the performances are serviceable enough, adding enough general appeal to this overlong atrocity to at least stir me from my intermittent slumber. Regardless of what others might think, Thor easily surpasses this as the better Avengers-based effort of 2011, which isn’t saying much for either but can be construed as a compliment nonetheless.

Friends with Benefits (dir. Will Gluck)

I almost feel insulted to have witnessed the release of two identical, mostly uninspired romantic comedies in the same calendar year. Yes, I brought this upon myself, wholeheartedly even, however Will Gluck’s glaringly spiritual successor to Ivan Reitman’s No Strings Attached tries desperately to but literally can’t save itself from how painfully grating and predictable it is. Throw bustling locales at me all you want, but don’t expect me to not criticize your film’s choppy, inconsistent and mostly distracting editing techniques that a sometimes effective yet presumably vulgar sense of humor doesn’t rectify. If you’re looking for some dumb fun, unnecessary insight into the lives of our likable leads and a soundtrack that could make even the hearing impaired cry, look no further than Friends with Benefits, but please heed my warning and realize that the film is only half of that. I’ll let you decide which half that is.

Attack the Block (dir. Joe Cornish)

Joe Cornish’s adrenaline-fueled, low-budget alien invasion romp through the projects of a London suburb is alternately impressive and peculiarly underwhelming. Although it does the most with a meager amount of funds, Attack the Block, to me at least, is nothing more than what you’d expect it to be roughly ten minutes into the proceedings. It’s fun for what it is and stylish to boot, notwithstanding the mostly unintelligible dialogue that endlessly spews from the mouths of its cast of amateurs. Best of the year contender it isn’t, but for what Mr. Cornish’s modest genre flick lacks it makes up for by way of humor, a gleeful abundance of violence and a slick sense of style.

Review: In Time (2011)

Directed by: Andrew Niccol
Starring: Justin Timberlake, Amanda Seyfried, Cillian Murphy

As a fledgling filmmaker, Andrew Niccol quickly established a name for himself via an apparent ability to fuse human emotion and relevant social commentary together inside cleverly crafted settings. Granted, this success can only be attributed to his freshman and sophomore efforts, Gattaca and The Truman Show respectively, yet to say that the films in question were and are anything less than consistently engaging and insightful would be subject to dispute only by matter of one’s personal taste. After a couple of agreeably divisive projects, Niccol has returned once again to grace us with a not-so-subtle vision of a less than desirable future: one that sees us as humans substituting time for money as a clever yet oft clumsily utilized device that relies a bit too heavily on consistent criticism of our country’s current economic state.

Starting off promising enough, In Time is essentially a simple-minded examination of mankind’s descent into monetary class-based obsession. The ideas presented within the film’s opening act, while embarrassingly dead set on establishing themselves as the film’s flimsy framework, function effectively to an extent until the film attempts to engross us from a familiar sci-fi action-based standpoint. Sporadically entertaining as the proceedings sometimes are, Niccol tries his best to strike a competent balance between its half-assed humanistic sensibilities and a heavy-handed, overstuffed plot in a not so successful manner.

Pairing a textbook, emotionally vacant rags-to-riches tale that chronicles the unlikely rise of one Will Salas with an eventual Bonnie and Clyde-meets-Robin Hood-type plot trajectory, Niccol also can’t seem to figure out what he wants this film to be. While the action-oriented bits are spastic if impressive enough to at least hold your attention, the script is constantly bogged down by an ongoing identity crisis and socioeconomic undertones that are as subtle as a brick sailing through your bedroom window. Thankfully, it’s easy enough to admire Niccol’s ability to create, from scratch, the squalor-ridden and aesthetically sleek world our characters inhabit, yet what he fills this world with generally tends to bore rather than stimulate.

Justin Timberlake continues to steadily impress in roles that require him to take the proverbial wheel, portraying Mr. Salas with enough gusto to keep us at least mildly emotionally invested in his character’s plight and eventual rise to infamy. Seyfried as the privileged Sylvia Weis is nothing special as to be expected, however ample chemistry between her and the male lead assure that the aforementioned, overly familiar narrative twist remains somewhat convincing amid an inevitable and mostly unnecessary romance between them. The rest of the supporting cast is serviceable despite In Time‘s ineffective attempts to humanize most of the characters, Murphy a little more so than others, and all in all, they can’t really prevent or save the film from being the clunky mess that it is.

Wholeheartedly squandering what little appeal its central premise has early on in the proceedings, In Time relies a bit too heavily on one-sided, overbearing socioeconomic commentary instead of subtly addressing such an obviously relevant topic. Writer/director Andrew Niccol’s knack for incorporating an above average visual aesthetic into his work is undeniably present, however an overwhelming sense of emotional detachment and mildly entertaining snippets of suspense-laden action further add to the film’s ever-expanding list of woes. Some may find the film a little less than tiresome, but to watch it through from start to finish without drawing any of the uninspired comparisons I’ve made would be a hard feat indeed.

Rating: 3/10