movies filter: Critical Focus

Go Or No Go Speed Racer!

Fri, 09 May 2008 18:51:12 GMT

Reviews for "Speed Racer" (opening today) are, to use driving terms, all over the map.

The Good: Time's Richard Corliss: "'Speed Racer' announces the arrival of the virtual movie. If you watch the film overwhelmed by the assault of seductive visual information and wonder what you're seeing, here's the happy answer: the future of movies." [Actually that sounds kind of scary]

The Bad: Onion AV Club's Scott Tobias: "Borderline-experimental in the way it challenges the limits of perception. It's forward-thinking, visionary, and much of the time unwatchable."

The Ugly: San Francisco Chronicle's Mick LaSalle: "If this action extravaganza represents the future of movies, it's going to be a sad, dead and awful future."

The Ugliest: Salon's Stephanie Zacharek: "This isn't a picture filled with wonder and a sense of fun; it's so jaded and crass that I almost wonder if it's a highly unscientific experiment designed to gauge how little audiences will settle for these days. Manic and multicolored, Speed Racer is an excess of nothingness."

Blonde Moms...Of Death!

Thu, 08 May 2008 15:56:59 GMT

I love it when film writer/cultural philosopher/blonde booster Erik Kuersten preaches from his singular mountaintop -- this time championing/quivering in fear over cinematic blonde moms of death (just in time for Mother's Day).

Sayeth colleague (and fellow Swede -- I hear you brother) Kuersten:

"It's mother's day and as I was watching MULHOLLAND DRIVE just now for the millionth time, it occured to me that my love for cinema would not be nearly so fierce if not for my own mother was not a natural blonde, Swedish to be precise, and if you don't know what that means, it's a mix of tenderness and disinterest, the teutonic fire that burns not out nor warm nor long... and it's what cinema is! For psychological subtext there's Hitchcock and Lynch - Naomi Watts, the mother of mirrors hallucinating in her dirty bathrobe while we hover as camera lens ghosts at her hem line, or Marnie in PSYCHO or Melanie in THE BIRDS, creating this sense of unfulfillable longing-- we can never please her so we spend our lives creating shadow plays to distract ourselves... stuffing birds... a curious hobby, and not as expensive as you'd think, until they attack everyone as manifestations of Jessica Tandy's ferocious id."

Read the rest of his story here. Covering moms from "Persona" to "Poison Ivy" -- this is good good stuff.

--posted by Kim

Blockbuster Bombs

Wed, 07 May 2008 08:18:32 GMT

MSN' Sean Nelson's blockbuster smackdown!

Summer is here, and with it blockbuster season at the movies. Big events this year include the return of Indiana Jones and "X-Files" agents Mulder and Scully, Hulk and Batman sequels, a film version of the '60s TV series "Get Smart," plus vehicles for funnymen Mike Myers, Will Smith, Eddie Murphy and Will Ferrell, and a rash of other big budget extravaganzas.

Odds are good that many of these pictures will prove popular with moviegoers, who, as we all know, will see just about anything a good ad campaign tells them to. Odds are even better that many, if not most, of these films will suck, hard.

There are plenty of reasons movies conceived to be big moneymakers don't age well -- the cheap thrills, special effects and so-called "high concepts" associated with blockbusters tend to wear thin on repeated viewings, and once the marketing wears off all that's left is a dim memory of being pandered to for a couple of hours in a room full of strangers. You can't even really blame the filmmakers, except in some cases (see below). After all, the more people you have to please, the less you're able to say.

In fairness, not all blockbusters are bad; take a stroll down the top 20 moneymakers of all time and you're likely to find several titles that qualify as legitimate classics. But as studios feel the pressure to put up bigger and bigger numbers, the bigger hits start feeling like bigger disappointments as years (and DVDs) go by. Here's a list of some of the box office's worst successes, with a couple of lifetime achievement awards included to dishonor two repeat offenders.

"Star Wars" Episodes I, II, III (1999, 2002, 2005)
This tale has been told many times, but it bears repeating. When George Lucas reopened the Pandora's box of his "Star Wars" series to make three "prequels" for a new generation of consumers, he ruined everything. Even the original trilogy now feels like some kind of weird suppressed memory. Looking back, weren't they kind of chintzy and awful, too? They certainly are now with all the digital changes Lucas has added. But, by contrast with the new trio, Episodes IV, V and VI are "The Godfather" I and II and "Citizen Kane"! Forget Jar Jar Binks -- "The Phantom Menace," "Attack of the Clones" and "Revenge of the Sith" were all born dead, victims of lazy and cynical writing, filmmakers more interested in technological breakthroughs than in captivating viewers and, ultimately, a lack of vision. Lucas knew people would come see anything that said "Star Wars" on it, so he killed the goose to see where the gold came from. Even the force can't save him now.

Read his entire (dis) honor roll here.

--posted by Kim

Friday Night At The Movies

Fri, 02 May 2008 17:50:36 GMT

--"Iron Man" receives raves. I have high hopes. It's Robert Downey Jr. and he rarely lets me down, even in bad movies but, please "Iron Man" -- don't disapoint. Just don't.

--Whereas "Made of Honor" well...ouch. I like the new, er... "hot" Patrick Dempsey and all (OK, so I never watch "Grey's Anatomy" and I never will...) but anyway...maybe he should go back to his geeky "Can't Buy Me Love" days. Remember those times oldsters? When Dempsey was a dork?

--As for "Redbelt." I don't need reviews. David Mamet made a movie about ultimate fighting. I'm first in line.

--posted by Kim

Hot For Tony

Wed, 30 Apr 2008 15:43:35 GMT

It's hot. I'm driving out to the desert (to work). I'm in a crappy mood. There's only one thing to do -- get my Tony Montana/"Scarface" on. Why does this over the top, shattered American Dream always make me feel better? (And it's not just La Pfeiffer in those fantastic slinky clothes -- and by the way -- it was her 50th Birthday yesterday --Happy 5-0 Michelle.). Anyway, I need to think about this:

“What's he got that I don’t?” asks the ambitious Cuban émigré Tony Montana — a focused young man whose intense drive for power and wealth will propel him into a rise and fall of epic proportions. Cocksure, flashy, broadly smiling and with a charismatic personality that simultaneously frightens and impresses people, Montana, the 'Scarface,' of the title, will swiftly rise from the hardscrabble have-nots to the luxurious haves, only to devolve (to quote that other reckless vision of American prosperity, Britney Spears) into a gimme more — far more.

Viciously directed by an inspired Brian De Palma and written with gloriously unsubtle gusto by Oliver Stone, the much-quoted “Scarface” (reworked from Howard Hawks’ original 1932 masterpiece starring Paul Muni) is now a rightful classic. In telling the story of Montana (played by Al Pacino), who with his best friend, Manny (Steven Bauer), covets and chases ultimate success and power, De Palma revels in the conspicuous consumption and unhealthy realizations of an especially fractured American dream.

The film opens in the early ’80s, when Fidel Castro allowed boatloads of emigrants out of Cuba, many of them from emptied jail cells. Montana enacts his first deed (or misdeed) by snuffing out a fellow prisoner in return for citizenship (“I kill a communist for fun, but for a green card, I gonna carve him up real nice”). He soon becomes right-hand man to Florida drug lord Frank Lopez (a terrific Robert Loggia), whom he will supersede in innumerable ways (including stealing his wife, Elvira, played by a memorable Michelle Pfeiffer).

With bodies left behind, Montana ascends to massive wealth and stature only to crash — spectacularly so. Unhappy with his unfulfilled wife, obsessed with his baby sister, Gina (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio), and having cast out the one man he can trust, his best friend Manny, Montana precipitates the film’s tragic, much quoted finale with his overzealous attitude. If you’ve never heard “Say hello to my little friend,” then your first viewing of “Scarface” will be quite a ride.

A remake that ranks right alongside its original, “Scarface” (released in 1983) is wonderfully excessive, supremely stylized, vulgar, splendidly acted (especially by a bravura Pacino) and, often, weirdly beautiful. Teetering just over the edge but contained enough to maintain a sense of realism, the movie is stunningly operatic yet gritty and real. With a lot of bark and an equal amount of bite, “Scarface” isn’t just a movie but a bloody, brilliant experience.

--posted by Kim

Reels On The Rocks

Wed, 30 Apr 2008 05:20:06 GMT

With "Iron Man" and "Hancock featuring heavy-drinking protagonists, MSN's Don Kaye looks at some of the most memorable drunks in movie history:

In the movies, we've tended to like our vices simple: Illegal stuff, like cocaine and weed, is almost always bad, but alcohol and cigarettes were acceptable, even cool, for a long time. Drinking especially used to be played almost solely for laughs -- isn't hiccupping, falling down and waking with a hangover hilarious? It wasn't really until 1945, when Billy Wilder directed Ray Milland in "The Lost Weekend," that the idea of alcoholism as a disease and the perils of the bottle became legitimate dramatic material on the big screen.

Since then, alcohol has had a mixed career in movies, with famous comic and tragic roles. That continues this summer, but with, ahem, a twist as alcoholism enters uncharted territory: the realm of superheroes.

"Iron Man," starring Robert Downey Jr., brings to the screen the pioneering Marvel Comics character of Tony Stark, who developed an alcohol addiction that nearly destroyed everything in his life, including his defense business and his career as a superhero. Stark's battle with the bottle added a depth and vulnerability to his character that had rarely been explored in comic books before, and Downey's Stark will begin to manifest the roots of his problem (although his descent into full-blown alcoholism is a development tentatively scheduled for the sequel).

On the comic side, July's "Hancock" will feature Will Smith as the titular superhero, alcoholic and homeless, whose image is rehabilitated by a public relations consultant (Jason Bateman) and who tries to find his place in the world again.

Depending on whether their films succeed or fail both commercially and artistically, Tony Stark and John Hancock have a good chance of joining our list of the screen's most famous -- or most memorable -- drunks.

Don Birnam (Ray Milland) -- "The Lost Weekend" (1945)
Billy Wilder's "The Lost Weekend" attacked the problem of alcoholism head-on, long before the entertainment industry and polite society itself acknowledged that dependence on booze was a legitimate issue. The film was built around Ray Milland's Oscar-winning performance as a blocked writer whose three-day bender turns into a nightmare. Milland, who ended his career in B-level horror pictures, was never better than in this crackling, confrontational film, which exposed both Birnam's and society's hypocrisies about the way we medicate ourselves, yet did so without taking a holier-than-thou stance. Wilder and Milland forced us to take a long, hard look in the mirror the next morning -- and wonder if we should have had that last "one for the road."

Read more of the dipsomaniac honor roll here.

--posted by Kim

Best In Show

Thu, 24 Apr 2008 15:21:08 GMT

Though her name hasn't been mentioned much since her Oscar win, forget Diablo Cody's ex clothes shedding shenanigans, my kind of stripper can be found here -- in the Paul Verhoeven/Joe Eszterhas world of "Showgirls:"

Here’s the deal with “Showgirls” — it’s not a bad movie. Over the top, laugh-out-loud hilarious, gleefully depraved, extraordinarily bizarre, trashy, cheesy, ruthless and vaguely exploitative, yes, but definitively bad? No way.

So why I’m discussing the infamous, universally loathed/universally cherished (by cultists) flesh fest as a primo piece of so-bad-it’s-good cinema may seem confusing, and yet … kind of perfect. If you take the time to truly think about the picture (after your eyes have adjusted to all that hair-whipping sexuality, campy cat fights and glittery pasties), you’ll see that the movie’s badness is really the point — that director Paul Verhoeven (who directed the superb satires “RoboCop” and “Starship Troopers”) and writer Joe Eszterhas (writer of psychosexual classics “Fatal Attraction” and “Basic Instinct”) cast their larger-than-life characters in a satirical cross-pollination of “All About Eve” and “Valley of the Dolls,” only their dead-serious players weren’t in on the joke. Or were they?

The story (oh, the story!) finds one hot-tempered, hamburger-devouring babe named Nomi Malone (Elizabeth Berkley, who at this point was most famous for the teen sitcom “Saved by the Bell”) hitchhiking her way to Sin City with hopes of fulfilling her dream of becoming a Vegas showgirl. But like every hard-working heroine we’re rooting for/want to see naked, she’s got to pay her dues, and since hot bod Nomi can dance, she winds up working the pole at a low-rent strip joint. Though the tacky club is miles away from the glamour of a chorus line, she never loses her drive, knowing that sex is her currency and sin is negotiable. So when smirky, sexy big-name star showgirl Cristal (Gina Gershon) and a sleazy hotel talent director (Kyle MacLachlan) discover Nomi’s talents, she makes her move toward the big time, and gets her shot.

Nomi covers the bases while clawing her way to the top. Backstabbing, sexual favors, drugs, female bonding and female destroying all come into play in sequences that are almost inspirationally fulsome in their excessive drama and overacting. But Nomi’s entire life is about overacting. The way she eats, the way she dances, the way she makes love — all are a performance turned up to full volume. Set against Las Vegas, a city that doesn’t know the meaning of subtlety and moderation, the nutty actions of Nomi and company make absolute sense.

So, with this, I have to state again that “Showgirls” isn’t a bad movie. Or a “so bad it’s good” movie. It’s actually quite brilliant. And if you can’t follow that kind of praise for a movie about strippers, I’ll just parrot Nomi and say, “It doesn’t suck.”

--posted by Kim

All Of Us Under Its Spell: The Muppet Movie

Thu, 24 Apr 2008 05:14:28 GMT

“The Muppet Movie” holds up almost better than it has any right to. Yes, there’s the nostalgia factor, those warm childhood memories of watching Kermit, Fozzie, Miss Piggy, Gonzo and the rest on evening TV, memories that would probably make us adore the movie even if it didn’t meet our adult expectations.

But, in fact, “The Muppet Movie” does meet our adult expectations — and then some. A movie that’s as good-hearted, silly and childlike as it is subversive, absurd and progressive, “The Muppet Movie” is one of those rare television-to-movie adaptations that gives a back story but dips and swerves into so many different experiences that you hardly feel like you’re watching anything remotely television-like. Which truly was in the spirit of the TV show — there was nothing quite like it.

And there never was (or has been) anything like “The Muppet Movie.” The picture (the first of a series of live-action movies featuring Jim Henson’s famed creations) works as a road movie, wherein croaker Kermit leads the story of how the Muppets found each other. Kermit is a simple boy frog living an idyllic life in a swamp, where he plays his banjo and sings — most memorably the lovely “Rainbow Connection” (written by Paul Williams), a song that nearly rivals “Moon River” in its bittersweet beauty.

After he’s encouraged to follow his dreams (by, of all people, Dom DeLuise, who just happens to be hanging around the swamp), a road trip ensues (starting with Kermit on his bike — a sight that nearly knocked me out of my theater seat as a child). Kermit’s off to Hollywood, but not without speed bumps along the way, chief among them a predatory businessman (Charles Durning) who seeks the talented Kermit to represent his frog leg empire.

After fantastic musical numbers, many adventures, numerous close calls and memorable celebrity cameos (including Steve Martin, Richard Pryor, Bob Hope, James Coburn, Madeline Kahn and Orson Welles), Kermit realizes that the world outside of the swamp isn’t exactly like him — sweet. But when looked at with the right spirit, it’s not all that bad, either.

The most charming leap from TV to the big screen, “The Muppet Movie” is an unusual but ultimately poignant picture that is, for some of us adults, even more touching today.

--posted by Kim

Maxim's 300

Wed, 23 Apr 2008 21:27:54 GMT

I could get all snobby on you here and throw out the "Citizen Kane," the "Contempt" the "Battleship Potemkin" but you know and dude...If you haven't seen "The Big Lebowski," you should be dead. What the eff is wrong with you?

Nevertheless, Maxim (better known as the Sarah-Jessica-Parker-is-the-ugliest-woman-on-the-planet magazine -- such gentleman!) gives us a list of 300 movies you must see before you die (which, naturally, includes "The Big Lebowski").

So here's the link.

Think of it what you will. I'm not sure what to make of it because...Those Maxim fu**s! "This whole fu**ing thing... I did not watch my buddies die face down in the muck so that this fu**ing strumpet..."

Sorry...when my inner Walter Sobchak comes out, this agression will not stand...

--posted by Kim

Crushing The Classics

Tue, 22 Apr 2008 22:48:02 GMT

David Fear musters up the courage (and believe me, it takes courage) to take down some of filmdom's most beloved "classics." Since I sliced through all those overrated romantic movie classics (and on Valentine's Day!), I feel for you Mr. Fear -- be prepared for the hate mail.

Here's a sample of his story:

Like the accepted canon of English Lit 101 touchstones, there's an unofficial list of classic American movies that gets passed down to each new generation of film lovers. "Citizen Kane," "Casablanca," "The Wizard of Oz," "A Streetcar Named Desire," "Singin' in the Rain" -- these are rightfully considered the high points of Hollywood's output. But if you revisit that roll call of yesterday's greats on a regular basis, you're likely to run across a few flicks that don't stand up to the test of time. There are true landmarks, and then there's the stuff that's been dubbed "classic" yet leaves you scratching your head as the credits roll. Wow, you think: So this is what I'm supposed to think of as "the best"?

We call the members of this latter category the "Unclassics": movies that have been coroneted as the crème de la crème over the years but, frankly, no longer cut the mustard. The following 10 titles are all commonly name-checked as films of high quality and lasting value; we'll respectfully suggest that their status may need to be re-evaluated.

After polling a number of critics, colleagues and fellow cinegeeks, we've determined that 1970 is the cutoff point, and everything after that falls under the heading of "modern classics." If you've got suggestions for a list of "modern unclassics" -- and there are more than a few -- send 'em on in. (Link here to heymsn@microsoft.com.)

10. "Love Story" (1970)
"What can you say about a 25-year-old girl who died?" asks the opening line of this sudsy, sentimental melodrama. We wonder: What can you say about a 38-year-old movie that's so badly made, yet is still so beloved? It's a simple narrative -- boy meets girl, boy and girl get married, girl contracts a terminal disease and boy becomes very, very sad -- told in the sappiest manner possible, and many refer to this Oscar-nominated romance as the last great old-school Hollywood weepie. But this blockbuster boasts some seriously stilted performances (Ryan O'Neal's moody Oliver is merely wooden, whereas Ali MacGraw's doomed Jenny is downright oaken), a tinkling-piano score by Francis Lai that will give you diabetes, and truly wretched dialogue. That includes the line that the AFI listed as one of its top 20 quotes of all time: "Love means never having to say you're sorry." Maybe not, but after rewatching this inexplicably popular tearjerker recently, we feel filmmaker Arthur Hiller still owes us an apology.

9. "Arsenic and Old Lace" (1944)
On paper, the combination sounds fantastic: Frank Capra directing Joseph Kesselring's Broadway hit about two murderous old biddies, with a script by Julius and Philip Epstein and starring Cary Grant. But, though Capra had no problem delving into the darker side of humanity (see the last half-hour of "It's a Wonderful Life"), gallows humor was not his strong point. His handling of Kesselring's play turns the macabre farce into a stagy, broadly rendered mess. The first time John Alexander's deranged Teddy Roosevelt-wannabe yells, "Charge!" and flies up the stairs, it's amusing; by the 110th time, you want to scream. Though Grant's fans have a soft spot for his performance, the star's prodigious talents are squandered here. An actor with impeccable comic timing, he's forced to resort to the sort of shameless mugging that would give the cast of "Three's Company" pause, which only gets worse once Peter Lorre and Raymond Massey show up. There are at least a dozen major works that the director and the star made during the period known as Hollywood's Golden Age; why people insist on including this misjudged collaboration among them is a mystery.

Continue reading his list here. Mr. Fear even ticked me off by including George Stevens' "Giant." "Giant"?! Those are fighting words David!

--posted by Kim

Friday Night At The Movies

Fri, 18 Apr 2008 17:31:15 GMT

The Judd Apatow produced/Nick Stoller directed/Jason Segal starring and co-writing (and apparently real-life-living) comedy "Forgetting Sarah Marshall" is getting mostly good to rave reviews. It's funny. But what kind of funny? The differing takes:

Ty Burr is laughing from the throttle of his stomach: "Like 'The 40-Year-Old Virgin,' 'Knocked Up,' and 'Superbad' before it, it delivers belly laughs that explode from the meeting of wit and shock."

Michelle Alexandria finds it funny to not be, as they say, busting a gut: "The funny thing about this movie is, that it's not that funny. Oh, you'll get a few chuckles, but it's not laugh out loud funny. It actually tries to be a little subtle and show more heart."

Hmm...maybe it's just explosively subtle and they can call the whole thing off? Is that possible?

--posted by Kim

Knocked Out: Judd Apatow

Thu, 17 Apr 2008 18:37:03 GMT

From Jim Emerson's Judd Apatow ("Welcome to Apatowland") essay at MSN Movies:

"Writer/director/producer Judd Apatow, the man Entertainment Weekly recently crowned the 'Smartest Person in Hollywood,' has made a solemn promise to put at least one penis into every movie he makes from now on. He's slipped penises into his pictures before, of course: all those obsessive-compulsive drawings in "Superbad," his own on comically disconcerting display in 'Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story,' and Jason Segel's for a humiliating breakup in 'Forgetting Sarah Marshall.' Sometimes, too, his films include breasts and vaginas. And there are perfectly good reasons for that. Not the least of which is that all genitalia and externally visible glands are funny.

"Apatow was created when his dad's ... well, you know how that works. He has built himself into a powerful Hollywood brand name by mashing together the sweet and the randy, the smart and the sophomoric, and the masculine and feminine psyches (and their anatomical playgrounds). Apatow earned his reputation as a writer and producer on 'The Ben Stiller Show' and 'The Larry Sanders Show.' After building up his farm team on a pair of brilliant but underwatched cult TV shows about high school ('Freaks and Geeks') and college ('Undeclared'), he finally found an audience in movies as a producer of the Will Ferrell comedies 'Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy' and 'Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby.' As a writer, director and producer, he and his collaborators have reinvented popular goofball comedy, and particularly romantic comedy, with 'The 40-Year-Old Virgin,' 'Knocked Up,' 'Superbad' and, now, 'Forgetting Sarah Marshall.'"

Read the entire essay here.

--posted by Kim

DK Holm Fundraiser

Tue, 15 Apr 2008 08:13:36 GMT

Here's the deal: No matter what I adore writer DK Holm.

We've been through a lot during our (ten? More? Oh my God!) years as friends and colleagues, and have spent hours discussing everything from our love of the movie "Klute" (seriously, DK and I are unnaturally obsessed with "Klute"), to our fascination with the homoeroticism of "Brute Force" (we spent an entire Skype call watching the movie together -- DK pointing out every single damn bit player on screen -- even singing along with Sir Lancelot's "Calypso" character) to our never-ending defense of Lindsay Lohan's career to, of course, numerous cinematic disagreements (too many to list here).

Since moving from Portland to Los Angeles, I've had to change my phone plan three times to accommodate our conversations and we've became, oddly, even closer. So when I learned my friend had come down with esophageal cancer, I was deeply concerned and yet, knowing how strong DK is encouraged he'd be OK.

However, being a freelance writer (and a great writer), he is indeed facing what he's called, "the American nightmare" -- no insurance.

Oregonian film critic M.E. Russell has put together a site alerting friends and colleagues of Doug's situation, "uninsured and facing thousands of dollars in medical bills for chemotherapy and surgery." To help these costs, colleagues and friends have put together a fundraiser.

Here are the details:

When?
Sunday, April 27, 2008, starting at 7 p.m.

Where?

Cinema 21
616 NW 21st Ave.
(503) 223-4515

Cost?
Suggested donation at the door is $10.

What will happen during the fundraiser?

An evening of entertainment, wine and hors d’oeuvres -- plus a silent auction featuring local artwork, restaurants, vacation rentals, and more.

Who's on the entertainment roster?

Pink Martini frontman Thomas Lauderdale on piano
A screening of the latest film by "Collectors At Large" director Patti Lewis
Dover Weinberg and friends
Steve Cheseborough
Portland luminaries reading some of D.K.’s most deliciously vitriolic reviews and hate mail

What will be sold at the silent auction?

Original art by Tom Cramer and other local artists who have generously donated their work.
Restaurant and theater packages, dinner and hotel packages, and overnight beach packages, including:
Dinner for two at Cassidy’s with two tickets to Portland Center Stage
Dinner for 4 at Kenny & Zuke's Deli in the Ace Hotel
Dinner for 4 at the Aalto Lounge
3 VIP packages -- including dinner and a stay at the Hotel Vintage Plaza and Pazzo Ristorante

I want to help! Who can I call?
To pitch in, to contribute silent-auction items, for more information, or for press inquiries, call Cindy Mason at 503-866-7951.

Can I make a direct contribution to Mr. Holm?
Yes. Make check payable to "Doug Holm" and mail to:

Doug Holm
P.O. Box 4146
Portland, OR 97208-4146

Read more about the fundraiser and check out all of DK's writing and books here.

--posted by Kim

Brilliant Blue Kentucky Girl

Mon, 14 Apr 2008 23:30:42 GMT

Here's my write-up on one of my favorite biopics. If you don't like it, you're going to "fist city":

Michael Apted’s biopic “Coal Miner’s Daughter” is an intriguing work of contradictions that tie together so seamlessly, one is almost surprised by just how affecting it is. Among the contradictions: The movie is refreshingly honest yet wonderfully mythic; it’s gorgeously filmed, at times glamorous, yet down-home, gritty and grindingly real; and it’s rags-to-riches conventional yet incredibly unique, avoiding easy hillbilly stereotypes and folksy Southern niceties.

In fact, the movie’s a lot like its subject, legendary country singer Loretta Lynn, a young woman from the Appalachian Mountains who remained married to her teenage love and sang to the good-old-boy country music establishment with womanly candor while creating some of the genre’s most feminist-oriented songs. Take a listen to her controversial “The Pill” (about, yep, birth control) or “Fist City” (about beating up the woman running around with her man) or, years after the 1980 picture, her album “Van Lear Rose” — made with assistance from White Stripes mastermind Jack White — and you perceive a woman of singular passion, cleverness, will and mystery.

And the movie taps right into these elements of Lynn with a subtle, yet inspirational, power. With a fantastic Sissy Spacek playing Lynn (and singing all of her songs splendidly), the story takes us through the typical biopic tropes without feeling typical. Lynn is a sexually innocent child-bride in 1948 when she marries Doolittle Lynn (Tommy Lee Jones), an ambitious man who goes against the wishes of Loretta's father (Levon Helm) by moving his daughter far from home. The two have children, but not much of a life, and after giving Loretta a guitar as an anniversary present, Doolittle almost inadvertently unearths his wife’s boundless talent. From then on, it’s up and up and up.

What makes “Coal Miner's Daughter” so much different than other by-the-numbers biopics is its view of Lynn’s background. With British documentarian Apted (famous for the “7 Up” series) at the helm, the film looks at the hills of Kentucky with an intriguing mixture of exotic beauty and unromanticized sharpness. Not once does the movie make Lynn’s underprivileged family members appear simply quaint or depressingly poor, instead showing their struggle and charming grit, much like Loretta and Dolittle, particularly during the couple’s journey toward stardom. And the cast is brilliant — with Spacek giving a tour de force performance that spans many years, many triumphs and a few tragedies. A lovely tribute to an exceptional artist, “Coal Miner’s Daughter” does Loretta Lynn’s life, just as she sings in her iconic song, proud.

--posted by Kim

BadAzz Musings

Thu, 03 Apr 2008 03:32:22 GMT

No matter who you're voting for this election, one thing is for certain -- when it comes to pointing out the critical mistakes of presidential candiates comparing themselves to famous movie characters, David Walker rules.

From BadAzzMofo:

"Presidential candidate Hillary Clinton was campaigning in Philadelphia, where during a speech she compared herself to Rocky Balboa, the iconic boxer first portrayed by Sylvester Stallone in the 1976 film Rocky. 'Let me tell you something, when it comes to finishing a fight, Rocky and I have a lot in common. I never quit. I never give up. And neither do the American people,' said Clinton.

"I’m sure this must have been an inspirational moment to all of Clinton’s supporters, as the candidate cast herself in what has become the archetype role of an underdog refusing to throw in the towel. But has anyone stopped to consider that in the original Rocky, he lost the fight to Apollo Creed (Carl Weathers). I mean…I hate to be a stickler for details, or the party pooper who rains on the parade, but when push comes to shove, comparing yourself to someone who tries really hard, but still loses, is not the best campaign strategy. Think about it. She basically told the world, 'I am like the guy who busted his ass to win the heavy weight championship, but still got his ass served to him by a black man.'”

--posted by Kim

Richard Pryor: Live And Alive

Tue, 25 Mar 2008 21:00:41 GMT

One of my favorite stand-up films and albums, "Richard Pryor Live on the Sunset Strip":

The year was 1981 and Richard Pryor, that groundbreaking genius, that innovative, influential trash-talking/truth-telling original king of comedy, was already a star. He’d released numerous inspired comedy albums, enjoyed big-screen success, most notably with Gene Wilder in “Silver Streak” and “Stir Crazy,” and his standup concert, “Richard Pryor: Live in Concert” (released as a film in 1979), had sealed the deal — this guy’s beyond-brilliant comedy had made him one of the most important humorists of the 20th century.

But back to 1981, back when he walked onstage at the Hollywood Palladium in a red suit and black bow tie and, at the start of his routine, with a clearly nervous disposition, went there. And not just there, as in all of the bold subjects Pryor was known to examine with brash humanity and riotous hilarity (racism, sex, politics and then some), but to the incident, the nearly fatal “accident” that left 50 percent of his body covered in burns. “Have you ever heard of a motherf---er burning up freebasing, other than me? If nobody else burned up freebasing, why do you think it happened to me? I did not burn up freebasing; I burned up because I quit freebasing.”

By covering his monumental act of self-destruction, by delving into that day on June 9, 1980, when the comedian lit himself on fire while freebasing cocaine, and the drug addiction leading up to that infamous moment, Pryor created a routine of such confessional brilliance that it remains unsurpassed to this day.

But what makes “Richard Pryor Live on the Sunset Strip” (released as a movie and album in 1982) so exceptional and important isn’t simply Pryor’s discussion of his inner demons lit up for the world to see. It’s how he approaches such searing self-examination. Discussing topics ranging from prisons to the Mafia to messy relationships to an extraordinarily moving epiphany while in Africa (Pryor decided to never use the N-word again), the comedian wants his audience to think as well as to laugh. And with his unflinching and, at times, heartbreakingly honest vulnerability, Pryor not only makes us think about the emotional and moral shakiness of the human condition, but the shakiness within our selves. How many comedians can make you laugh until you cry, then make you genuinely cry before getting you to laugh again?

“Live on the Sunset Strip” isn’t just funny, it’s a profound experience.

Read two other favorites (and vote!) here.

--posted by Kim

Friday Night At The Movies: A Bitter Drill-bit To Swallow

Sat, 22 Mar 2008 00:37:12 GMT

--Reviews for "Drillbit Taylor" are...ouch. John Beifuss writes, "The first film from the Judd Apatow Productions assembly line that feels like it came off an assembly line: 'Drillbit' is to Judd Apatow as 'Harry and the Hendersons' is to Steven Spielberg." Wesley Morris complains, "The makers of 'Drillbit Taylor' aren't so much interested in a movie about the tyranny of bullies as they are completely turned on by the violence they inflict." And my pal M.E. Russell (or is it my pal Shawn Levy? Who wrote this review?) is a man after my own heart: "Do yourself a favor. Rent 'My Bodyguard' instead."

--Still...old "Drillbit" is receiving better reviews than the latest Asian remake, "Shutter" (from the Thai picture of the same name, a film I haven't seen but am willing to bet is superior to the American remake...just a hunch...)

--Angela Bassett stars in "Tyler Perry's Meet the Browns." One, no one will care what the critics have to say about it because audiences love Tyler Perry's movies. And two, Angela Bassett is in it -- need more Angela Bassett on screen.

--And then there's '60s icon Marianne Faithful as a 60-something sex worker in Sam Garbarksi’s "Irina Palm" (in limited release) which looks most promising. As Prairie Miller wrote, "Garbarski combines social satire, hand jobs, feminism, and romantic grace to create a tenderhearted tale of found love and female empowerment. And he actually pulls it off, give the guy a hand. On second thought..." Oh come on...did you have to go there?

--posted by Kim

Have 'Gub' Will Travel

Fri, 21 Mar 2008 20:35:55 GMT

One of my favorite mockumentries, "Take the Money and Run":

As funny and innovative as Woody Allen’s hilarious mockumentary “Take the Money and Run” is, the movie still has the power to make me tremendously sad. I realize that discussing the depressiveness of a comedy about the world’s most inept criminal may seem an odd way to celebrate one of film’s greatest mockumentaries — a cinematic genre that, “The Blair Witch Project” aside, is almost required to be funny — but it’s this down-and-out poignancy that has made the picture stick with me all these years.

“Take the Money and Run” was also the very first Woody Allen movie I ever saw (it would frequently pop up on network TV), and I think all those pre-cable, lonely childhood TV viewings add an emotional hue (brown-tinted) to my memories. But apart from my own recollections, the picture’s low-budget grittiness, mixed with Allen’s singular observations and Marx Brothers-inspired humor, gives the comedy an, at times, surrealistic look at desperation. Any fans who remember the picture’s memorable bank hold-up gag — during which the unruffled teller can’t read Allen’s stick-up note, insisting the crook spelled the word “gun” as “gub” — know what I mean. Even those attempting to threaten and rob the world can’t get by without suffering life’s day-to-day indignities.

And Allen’s Virgil Starkwell has suffered his share of indignities. With formal voice-of-God narration by Jackson Beck, we learn about Starkwell’s background. From nerdy kid who so irritated his parents with cello lessons that they threw the instrument out the window, to petty thief, to terrible pool hall hustler, to spectacularly unsuccessful bank robber, to husband (married to pretty Janet Margolin), to poor man nearing starvation — Starkwell’s unlucky life is a true-crime fiasco. He’s such a loser, in fact, that when his parents are interviewed for the film, they don Groucho Marx noses and glasses to hide their identities.

That’s just one of many jokes that range from amusing, to hilarious, to wonderfully absurdist in this little movie that packs a much bigger wallop today than was probably originally intended. Far ahead of its time, and not appreciated enough within both Allen’s legendary canon of work and the genre of mockumentary, “Take the Money and Run” is something of a slap-dash masterpiece. The great Christopher Guest — with his involvement in “This Is Spinal Tap” (co-wrote and starred in) and “Waiting for Guffman” (co-wrote, starred in and directed) — is usually considered one of the real innovators of the mockumentary, but he must give credit to Woody Allen. And “Take the Money and Run” has to be one of his favorite films. I wonder if it makes him sad, too?

Read the other choices (and vote!) here.

--posted by Kim

The Spacey Age

Tue, 18 Mar 2008 07:14:00 GMT

Where has Kevin Spacey been hiding himself these days? Sure, he turned up as a fantastically fiendish Lex Luthor in Bryan Singer's forgettable "Superman Returns... more" and added comic flair to the Christmas-time comedy "Fred Claus." But where are the great actor's John Does, Jack Vincennes and Lester Burnhams of filmdom? And, further (for those of us old enough to remember), where are his Mel Profitts?

They're all still hanging around, albeit most likely on stage, where the Oscar-winning actor has been (since 2003) artistic director of the prestigious Old Vic Theatre in London. Performing in productions ranging from Shakespeare's "Richard II" to Philip Barry's "The Philadelphia Story," Spacey has kept himself busy on the boards, while maintaining a low profile on screen. But with the gambling picture "21," which is based on a true story, Spacey returns as a brilliant math teacher and mentor to a group of card-counting MIT students as they take on Vegas. It should be a juicy role for an interesting actor who, stage or no stage, should be writ large more often. With this in mind, and anticipating a bigger return to the big screen, we honor 10 of Spacey's greatest performances. From serial killers, to disenchanted dads to Bobby Darin, he's created some legendary characters. Here's to hoping for a few more.

10. "The Ref" (1994) If you've seen Kevin Spacey's "Saturday Night Live" appearances, you know the guy is funny. So why he doesn't attempt comedy more often is a mystery -- he's a complete natural and wonderfully gifted. Proof positive lies in Ted Demme's "The Ref," a movie ... morein which criminal Denis Leary makes the regrettable decision of taking a squabbling couple (Spacey and Judy Davis) hostage in their own home. Dragged into the middle of the bitter pair's feuds, Leary endures Spacey's hilarious wrath, with lines that make you wince and laugh: "I'd love to run around and take classes and play with my inner self! I'd love the freedom to be some pissed-off criminal with no responsibilities, except I don't have the time! But you don't see me with a gun. And you don't see me sleeping with someone else. You think my life turned out the way I wanted because I live in this house? You think every morning I wake up, look in the mirror and say, 'Gee, I'm glad I'm me and not some 19-year-old billionaire rock star with the body of an athlete and a 24-hour erection!' No, I don't! So just excuse the s--- out of me!" Brilliant.

Read the rest of my picks of Spacey's best here.

--posted by Kim

Friday Night At The Movies: Not So 'Funny'

Sat, 15 Mar 2008 04:03:52 GMT

I know "Horton Hears a Who" and "Doomsday" opened today but the movie that's got me most curious is Michael Haneke's shot-for-shot re-make of his own brilliant, "Funny Games."

Like the 1997 original, the reviews for "Funny Games US" are incredibly divided. The Village Voice's J Hoberman wrote, "Professional obligations required that I endure it, but there's no reason why you should" while the Onion AV Club's Scott Tobias called the picture a "chilly and extraordinarily controlled treatise on film violence."

Stacie Ponder, she of the great Final Girl wrote an interesting piece that really understands and reflects on what Haneke is attempting to study with his uncomfortable (that's an understatement) picture.

Writes Ponder:

"Did I actually enjoy Funny Games? No, absolutely not. I didn't "enjoy" it at all. I marveled at the acting. I was astounded by what I was seeing. I took notes on Haneke's storytelling techniques. This, however, is one of the toughest films I've ever had to sit through...mind you, Haneke doesn't really show us any of the brutality. The aftermath- and we do see the aftermath- of the violence tends to be the raw emotional aftermath. You don't need to see a damn thing to feel for this family; it's mostly a dance of words, of anticipation, expectation, and tension.

"I commented afterward that I loved the fact that there was no explicit violence, that I could react so very strongly without it. Would actually seeing a helpless character get punched in the face have made me even more sympathetic? No, I don't think so. My viewing companion, however, was disappointed by the lack of explicitness. This shocked me, and we ended up talking about why she felt that way- which is, at least in part, the point of the film."

Read Ponder's entire piece here.

And...since I know what I'm in for, it's hard for me to say I'm excited about seeing "Funny Games" also, but I'm eager enough to think about why I'm so eager. I'm certainly curious regarding the director's shot-for-shot approach and how Naomi Watts, Tim Roth and Michael Pitt handle these roles, but...maybe I am excited. Also, I really need to think about why the film's horrifying yet beautiful poster stirs me so. It's unnervingly spectacular.

--posted by Kim

Hopelessly Devoted

Tue, 11 Mar 2008 21:48:23 GMT

One of my favorite sites, Noir of the Week, has just written up a movie I simply must see. Ralph Meeker, Janice Rule and Paul Heinreid?! Where has "A Woman's Devotion" been all my life?

The piece starts with a question regarding the picture's deservedness within the canon of noir:

"Any list of the classic attributes of this thing called film noir congers up images of high heels on wet pavement, dark & gritty urban landscapes, double crosses and that four lettered F word; fate.

"So how then do honeymooners frolicking on the sun splashed beaches of Acapulco cut the mustard as noir? In no less the works of noted noir authorities Mike Keaney and Art Lyons in their books on the subject; 'Film Noir Guide' and 'Death on the Cheap: The Lost B Movies of Film Noir' is this film found.

"As the debate continues to rage over the merits of style vs. theme we’ll have to op out for theme on this hard to find entry. The oft told tale of the unstable WWII vet plays out again with disastrous consequents for any female near our protagonist when a loud noise is heard."

Read the entire piece here.

And noir, not noir, noir-ish, whatever, I can't wait to track this one down. I'm devoted.

--posted by Kim

Their Satanic Majesties Request

Tue, 11 Mar 2008 20:37:15 GMT

Speaking of Rock N' Roll -- as in real, dangerous, sexy, brilliant Rock N' Roll, here's my take on the greatest rock documentary of all time, Albert and David Maysles' genius "Gimme Shelter," a movie that remains stunning:

Since we often need official markers to notate the beginning and end of our eras, there are many who believe that the music festival at Altamont Speedway, that infamous 1969 concert featuring the Rolling Stones on their North American tour, flat-out killed the 1960s. Or rather, the late 1960s, when peace, love, brotherhood and understanding weren’t just drug-addled hopes of hippies but real-life responses to turbulent times — when civic change and war protest were passionate issues.

And it’s tough to not view Altamont as both a dark climax to the late 1960s and the ushering in of a more cynical, dissolute era — the 1970s. Remarkably, this harsh time transition was captured on film in the brilliant documentary “Gimme Shelter,” directed by verité masters Albert and David Maysles (“Salesman,” “Grey Gardens”), filmmakers who surely didn’t know just how historic their picture would become.

The documentary and tour it presents begin innocently enough with Mick Jagger and company greeting Madison Square Garden (“Welcome to the breakfast show!”) before dazzling the audience with “Jumpin' Jack Flash.” But the movie begins to reveal a sense of foreboding, and as we watch the band members goof in their hotel rooms, record their lovely ballad “Wild Horses” (Keith Richards is especially moving here, lost in the music, the camera noting a hole in his boot) and arrange for the free Altamont show, we already know something terrible is going to happen. Watching the Stones’ reaction to playback of the eventual tragedy is fascinating — how affected are they by all of this?

During the ill-fated concert, in which a member of the Hells Angels (hired as security) stabs a black concertgoer, the Stones appear quite affected. But not because they know what is actually happening. Rather, the entire show feels on the verge of violence — something is clearly amiss as we watch Jagger attempt order with his rather helpless refrain of, “Brothers and sisters! Brothers and sisters!”

And yet, as disturbing as “Gimme Shelter” remains, the picture is a magnificent time capsule of a band at its peak. With Jagger strutting his stuff in his blue jumpsuit, Uncle Sam top hat and pink silk scarf, the Stones are pure live-wire, sass and sexy eloquence. (Perfectly, Ike and Tina Turner add to this eroticism with an obscenely genius performance at Madison Square Garden.) But watching the Altamont show, you also remember there was a reason why the Stones seemed debauched and sinister. After all these years, many still believe that “Sympathy for the Devil” played during the stabbing (it was actually “Under My Thumb”), which isn’t surprising. The forces of darkness were indeed summoned that day.

Read other takes on great Rock Docs (and vote) here.

--posted by Kim

Bloodsucking Brilliance: 'Nosferatu'

Wed, 05 Mar 2008 09:45:48 GMT

My favorite bloodsucker:

As proven by the combined efforts of German filmmaker F.W. Murnau and eccentric actor/notable freak Max Schreck, a movie needn’t have sound to be scary. Even when said movie features a version of the famed Count Dracula, a literary and movie monster renowned for his gothic dulcet tones, romantic, bloodthirsty promises of eternal life and the famous utterance, “Listen to them. Children of the night. What music they make!” When thinking things vampiric, howling wolves, squealing bats and screaming damsels are the sounds we hear, and this is morbidly wonderful but, again, not always necessary.

Poetic, horrifying and innovative compositions, atmospheric evil and the transformative powers of an actor appearing as walking death can chill our bones equally, if not more — particularly in the hands of a master. Such is the power of Murnau’s expressionistic silent-screen classic “Nosferatu,” a milestone in vampire cinema and a movie so creepy that its images linger in your mind long after you’ve soaked in its sinister magic.

Released in Germany in 1922, this first-ever screen depiction of “Dracula” was immediately met with controversy. Without permission, Murnau clearly adapted writer Bram Stoker’s immortal “Dracula” when he made “Nosferatu,” changing the name of Count Dracula to Count Orlok. Stoker's widow became litigious and all copies of the movie, including the negative, were ordered destroyed. Though kept out of America for seven years, copies did luckily survive, and we’ve been able to see the picture in various stages of restoration (though never pristine). But controversy aside, Murnau’s version is so unique, so cinematically innovative and so unparalleled that the resemblance between the literary work and the motion picture seems more an inspiration than mere copy.

Schreck (whose bizarre back story could fill another article) plays the titular character as a horrific vision of pestilence — long, jagged teeth, claw fingernails, emaciated frame, bald head and soul-sucking eyes; he is not the romantic Bela Lugosi/Gary Oldman Dracula of our gothic dreams. Not to take anything away from Stoker’s work or later film versions, including Tod Browning’s and Francis Ford Coppola’s fascinating adaptations and Werner Herzog’s remake of the Murnau film with Klaus Kinski in 1979, but “Nosferatu” remains, by far, the most terrifying and strangely beautiful envisioning of the fabled bloodsucking revenant.

The story follows the novel somewhat closely — an unlucky businessman must contend with Orlok after a real estate deal takes him into the depths of dark Transylvania. Orlok becomes obsessed after eyeing a portrait of the man’s wife (Orlok: “Is this your wife? What a lovely throat.”) and basically all manner of, quite literal, hell breaks loose. Through both Schreck’s brilliant performance and Murnau’s revolutionary style — including expressionistic sets, bold static camerawork and innovative use of jump cuts, exposures, stop-motion images and more — the picture casts a haunting spell over the viewer. So much so that one gets the feeling it was inspired not only by Stoker, but by the devil himself.

Read other venerable vampires (and vote!) here.

--posted by Kim

A.O. On Oscar

Tue, 26 Feb 2008 22:03:44 GMT

An interesting piece by A.O. Scott in which the New York Times critic discuses his wish that the Oscars had been cancelled:

"There is something of a consensus among critics — a disagreeable bunch, it should be noted — that 2007 was one of the best years for movies, American movies in particular, in recent memory. As a result the leading contenders for major Oscars have unusually solid aesthetic bona fides. Of course there are those who grouse about the endings of 'There Will Be Blood' and 'No Country for Old Men,' who find 'Juno' more grating than charming, who were baffled by 'Michael Clayton' or who were bored by 'Atonement,' but all in all it looks like an impressively strong field. Meanwhile the Writers Guild strike, which had threatened to encircle the Kodak Theater with picket lines and bury the Academy Awards in bad feelings, has been settled. The show will go on — Sunday night at 8 — and everybody’s happy.

"Well, maybe not everybody. I’m only slightly ashamed to admit that I found myself hoping that the strike would shut the Academy Awards down; that for once, in a year of such cinematic bounty and variety, appreciation for the best movies could be liberated from the pomp and tedium of Hollywood spectacle."

Read his entire story here.

--posted by Kim

The Cross And The Switchblade

Fri, 15 Feb 2008 10:33:45 GMT

My favorite psycho -- Harry Powell:

Robert Mitchum was and still is an American original who projected a natural-born charisma all his own. Brimming with understated talent (the kind that’s always underrated), the actor could run the spectrum from gorgeous leading man (“Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison”) to light comedian (“What a Way to Go!”) to war hero (“The Story of G.I. Joe”) to Western existentialist (“Pursued”) to flawed noir antihero (“Out of the Past,” “Angel Face,” “Where Danger Lives”) to aged, hardboiled hero (“Farewell, My Lovely”) with nary a trace of effort. Though he was quoted as saying he sleepwalked through many of his roles (and that heavy-lidded, laconic demeanor was a large part of his barrel-chested appeal), he did work at some of his big-screen characters. Nowhere is this more evident than in one of the actor’s greatest and scariest roles — as demented preacher Harry Powell in Charles Laughton’s masterpiece, “The Night of the Hunter.”

Adapting Davis Grubb's novel (with film critic James Agee as screenwriter) into an expressionistic children's fairy tale/nightmare, Laughton not only directed a movie, but cast an elegiac spell over the audience with dreamlike, angled compositions (by cinematographer Stanley Cortez), chilling religious motifs, dark humor, disturbed perversity and pure horror. And casting lovable, romantic Robert Mitchum was just another of Laughton's ingenious moves — the actor took viewers aback with his inspired, demonic weirdness, creating an unease that’s still palpable today.

From his first moment on-screen, there’s something off about Mitchum’s preacher — and that creepiness grows and expands with each succeeding scene. He’s handsome (which makes him even more frightening), he can sing hymns, he can preach the Good Book and he can seduce.

Here he ensnares lonely, vulnerable Shelley Winters with the intent of stealing the money her late husband recently lifted (the money is hidden in her daughter’s doll). After disposing of Winters (her underwater death scene is one of cinema’s most startling, yet beautiful, moments), Mitchum's faux reverend hunts down her two children (wonderfully played by Billy Chapin and Sally Jane Bruce) with big talk, questioning threats ("Where'd you hide the money, Pearl?") and finally just plain murderous intentions.

From the picture’s famous scene involving Mitchum's love-and-hate speech using tattooed knuckles, to the poetic shots of the children fleeing their pursuer down a dreamlike river, to the frightfully gorgeous way Mitchum sings "Leaning on the Everlasting Arms," especially with pure-hearted Lillian Gish — every moment of this picture and Mitchum’s performance is both scary and stunning.

Check out two other memorable bad guys (and vote) here.

--posted by Kim