Filed under: Movie Reviews | Tags: gabourey sidibe, mariah carey, mo'nique, movie review, oprah, oscar, precious, push, sapphire
After a rollicking night of chasing cabs and paying tabs, Roommate and I slunk our hollow, hungover bodies to the local cinema (after being pumped, of course, with bellies full of breakfast sandwiches). Our pick? The critic-riddled Precious, the precocious front-runner of Oscar buzz and Oprah love. And thus, in fine fashion, we visited the snack shack in order to pilfer a number of crunchy napkins, and then proceeded to wad them into our mutual cup-holder for the impending sob-fest. And while both of us were certainly satisfied that our forethought proved wise, Precious was far from a tragic film.
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Precious winningly engages the audience by ripping its collective heart out, demonishly stomping on it, and spending the next two hours carefully sewing it all back together. Its titular character, played stunningly by accolade-onslaughted Gabourey Sidibe, both evokes and provokes quivering lips while tunneling through the massive challenges of living as an illiterate inner-city imp. Factor in the fact that she’s a single mother (her own father fathered) with a sickeningly sadistic mother of her own, and that collective heart is tugging at strings. Mo’nique slaughters her role as the aforementioned archetype, and a mustached Mariah Carey offers a cool and biting performance as a stony social worker fighting on behalf of our Precious. So when the credits began to roll, I sank deep into myself and could find only a few words to mutter to my silenced Roommate. I paused, wiped a wad of snot from my jowl, and posed the important question. “…Do I have raccoon eyes?”
Filed under: Movie Reviews | Tags: 2000-2009, best movies of the 2000s, decade, millennial, son of rambow, top films, top list
As I stoked through the ash and rubble of a plethora of naively nostalgic millennial lists begging to define this decade’s most contrived/artistic moments, I thought to myself, “I, too, can be prematurely trite and naive!” And thus, I delved into work, dutifully posing my new kitten in textbook-pensive sleeping position upon my stomach and donning my uber-geek-chic glasses that are just slightly too large for my face. I began typing in Murder-She-Wrote fury, stopping only to argue the semantics of the decade’s epoch with Boyfriend (“There was no year 0, therefore, a decade ranges from 01-10!”). And thus, I have conjured the likes of my ultimate list of films that shaped this decade: My Y2Kate. And while I’m big-headedly naming things after myself, I’ll subject you to my scroll, derived deep from the depths of my sacred Netflix account. The envelope, please:
About a Boy (2002)
Almost Famous (2000)
Adaptation (2002)
Amelie (2001)
Batman Begins (2005)
Before Sunset (2004)
Born into Brothels (2004)
Capote (2005)
Catch Me If You Can (2002)
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (2007)
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)
Gangs of New York (2002)
Ghost World (2001)
Gone Baby Gone (2007)
Goodbye, Lenin! (2003)
Half Nelson (2006)
High Fidelity (2000)
Hustle & Flow (2005)
In America (2002)
Inglourious Basterds (2009)
Kill Bill (Volumes 1 & 2) (2003-2004)
The King of Kong (2007)
Knocked Up (2007)
Lars and the Real Girl (2007)
Little Miss Sunshine (2006)
Lost in Translation (2003)
Love Actually (2003)
The Man Who Wasn’t There (2001)
Me and You and Everyone We Know (2005)
Millions (2004)
No Country For Old Men (2007)
O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000)
Old School (2003)
Once (2006)
Pan’s Labyrinth (2006)
Persepolis (2007)
Pieces of April (2003)
The Prestige (2006)
Punch-Drunk Love (2002)
Rachel Getting Married (2008)
The Royal Tennenbaums (2001)
Shaun of the Dead (2004)
The Squid and the Whale (2005)
Son of Rambow (2007)
Stranger Than Fiction (2006)
There Will Be Blood (2007)
Up (2009)
Waitress (2007)
Wet Hot American Summer (2001)
The Wrestler (2008)
Honorable Mentions: Sin City (2005), Moulin Rouge! (2001), Superbad (2007), Adventureland (2008), The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004), The Departed (2006), Big Fish (2003), Children of Men (2006), Spellbound (2002), Slumdog Millionaire (2008).
…What might be yours? Join the self-important party!
Filed under: Movie Reviews | Tags: clueless, forgetting sarah marshall, i love you man, jason segel, john hamburg, judd apatow, paul rudd, stella
It’s undeniable – Paul Rudd made falling in love with your former step-brother no longer “icky” when he charmed the wits out of every brain-dead tween in the 90’s hit Clueless back in the days of yore. And strangely enough, despite having depicted hapless husbands, nauseating newscasters, and sleazy summer camp counselors, he’s still everybody’s favorite guy. So perhaps it’s Rudd himself who lends a large helping hand to his newest love-child, I Love You, Man, because frankly, he’s just that damn likable. Sure, Man brings on the laughs – aided wholly by newly-wraught comic vet Jason Segel of How I Met Your Mother fame – but it’s certainly no side-splitting feat of fury that will keep you quoting for weeks.
What’s light and fun about I Love You, Man is that it doesn’t try too hard, which allows to film to glide through you – and, perhaps, over you – while trying to evoke just enough chuckles to get by. Rudd’s character is dopey while still dashing; he’s earnest and completely hopeless. The plot is nothing devastatingly brilliant nor is it painfully dull – it’s just a blip on the radar of weekend enjoyment. Director John Hamburg’s connections with those Stella fellas and Judd Apatow really ties the knot, while the film’s renowned names give it the extra jounce it needs to contend with the big boys. So while I kicked back and enjoyed a number of hearty, heartfelt laughs, I couldn’t help but notice that Boyfriend was less than impressed. Upon inquiring, he rated it, “a poor man’s Forgetting Sarah Marshall.” Yes, but Honey, in that film, Paul Rudd was so terribly underused.
Filed under: Movie Reviews | Tags: australia, baz luhrmann, brandon walters, down under, hugh jackman, Movie Reviews, nicole kidman, thanksgiving
A great many eons ago, also known as Thanksgiving, 2008, my tiny nuclear family decided to combine forces and canter off to the local cinema in order to take in the latest of familial-friendly flicks. And thus, we agreed upon Australia, a legendarily-long saga drawn to life by the keen but clandestine mind of the eclectic Baz Luhrmann. The film, aproposly titled from its largest master, throws a supercilious British heiress (a somewhat likable Nicole Kidman) into the depths of down under on the cusp of the Second World War after her prize husband, who owned a cattle-rearing lot, is killed. Enter dreamy drover Hugh Jackman, who’s got a bit too much grit between his teeth, and let the calamity unfold. As Kidman befriends the local aborigines, learns the dangers of the desert, and promises to make good of her late husband’s secret livelihood, she grows exponentially along with the rapidly-changing country in times of peril.
The first half hour of the film is exhaustingly Luhrmann – quick shots, nauseating close-ups, and awkward slow-motion bits that charmed audiences in Moulin Rouge! and Romeo & Juliet fall flat against the backdrop of death and poverty in war. However, the movie quickly matures with its characters, and its subsequent two hours are swooping, sweet, and haunting. The story thrives on its nearly preposterously-dynamic characters, who fuel the film with fiery intensity at every turn. And somehow, it all seems to work.
Australia is far from flawless – its length is daunting, especially after the audience is placed through apparent climax after climax, nail-biter after tear-jerker, and numerous calms after many storms. Villains are created and quelled too quickly, and an exhausting amount of dangers threaten a happy ending in constant rapid succession. However, the film is powerful, both in a cinematic and empathetic sense, and the once-floppy characters truly drive home sweeping bouts of emotion. The real treat of the film, however, is not the gorgeous costumes (which received an Oscar nod), the epic battle scenes, or the A-list Hollywood royalty employed, but rather the movie’s most diminutive star – Brandon Walters – as the orphaned aborigine who ultimately wins the hearts of Kidman and Jackman. Walters, an Australian native, had never graced the silver screen prior to this flick, but his haunting depth of character makes him the film’s most apparent gem. Overall, Luhrmann’s flick is worth the viewing, though it may not be worthy of earning a spot in your collection. If nothing else, it will make covet Nicole Kidman’s wardrobe and help you pick your next vacation destination.
Filed under: Movie Reviews | Tags: casino royal, daniel craig, gemma arterton, james bond, judi dench, marc forster, martin campbell, olga kurylenko, quantum of solace
In my true nature, I did indeed draft Boyfriend in order to scurry out and take in the newest of the re-birthed James Bond vehicles, in which Daniel Craig dons his best and most dashing of Bonds. The series – which, although it has only produced two films thus far, can still very well be pegged as an impending catalogue – promised a new foundation for the 007 empire with its starkly incredible debut Casino Royale just two years ago. Martin Campbell, the film’s director, brought forth a more humanistic – at times even fumblingly adorable – James with brick wall Craig, and we quickly washed away any trace of those dreadful Pierce Brosnan years with his nauseating cleft and gummy-toothed grin. The story was deep, dark, wet behind the ears; it was raw, twisting, enthralling. It was slick enough to slide right through you, but gritty enough to get caught up in your innards. It was a new Bond, a rebirth, an homage, and a new hope. Alright, so perhaps I really just loved this former flick.
However, not much of the same can be said for the second installment. With a new director at the helm, the film falls flat in story, jumbled in cinematography, and short of the finish line. Sure, I entered the movie theatre expecting to love it, no matter the actual outcome. And thus, I did not outwardly dislike the film whatsoever, but I did indeed find it to be quite a bland Bond, despite the efforts of thousands of over-the-top explosives. Bond himself seems to awkwardly adopt the “shoot now, ask questions late” theory and takes it nearly to the grave, and his leading lady (Olga Kurylenko) falls shy of being memorable due to a lack of epic flashbacks and general empathy. And just when we begin to think a new, more relatable Bond girl (Gemma Arterton) is going to be added to the mix, she is disappointingly retired long before she could reach her prime.
The problem with Quantum is that it feels underwhelming; it’s short on story, high on explosives, and riddled with drawn-out action sequences. We do not feel for the characters with the exception of Bond, and it becomes otherwise forgettable in the end. A friend and I agreed that this film would have been more excellently utilized as an epilogue in a Casino Royale two-disc special edition, and not as a full theatrical release. It would have greatly benefitted from a few meatier flashbacks as well as about a half an hour of grounded plot. And of course, we all could use a little more Judi Dench. Couldn’t we?
Filed under: Movie Reviews | Tags: bobb'e j. thompson, christopher mintz-plasse, david wain, Movie Reviews, paul rudd, role models, seann william scott, stella
Perhaps the surprise hit of the fall film season would be the comedy sleeper Role Models, a movie Boyfriend and I decided upon for a rainy afternoon matinee. Sure, the trailer looked amusing, and sure, I knew it would appeal to a certain crowd, having projected it to perform well at the box office, but perhaps not so well with the critics. Despite the pact that Boyfriend and I made a pact to never, ever, under threat of death by middle schoolers and soccer moms, visit a movie theatre on the perilous weekend, we made the trek in the name of mindless entertainment and stadium seating. Unsurprisingly, the theatre was packed to the gunnels like a sardine can. Our cooperative clairvoyance foresaw a bevy of cheesy, trailer-hitched jokes which would induce thoughtless belly laughs and cat calls throughout our collective audience (really, has no one seen a commercial for this movie before?). However, to our utmost surprise, we were the ones unable to control our laughter as a potential dud transformed into an uproariously good time.
The comedy’s dual protagonists, Danny and Wheeler (respectively, Paul Rudd and Seann William Scott) are sentenced to community service at Sturdy Wings, a Big-Brothers-Big-Sisters-esque program founded by a former crack addict (an obscenely hilarious Jane Lynch – honestly, is she ever not funny?). But what makes this film truly work is the relationship with their subsequent antagonists, also known as their “littles” (Christopher Mintz-Plasse and Bobb’e J. Thompson). The chemistry conducted between the four is undoubtedly golden; not a single one falls dead weight or outshines the rest. It’s perfectly balanced writing with a candid hilarity, polished off with spot-on delivery and rolling farce. Co-written by David Wain of Stella fame and Rudd himself, it incarnates moments from The Baxter and Wet Hot American Summer and merges them with the likes of Superbad and Knocked Up. Sure, the first thirty minutes were pitch-perfect for the trailer, but the subsequent hour delivers heart and prolific amounts of poignant profanity by the truckload, which somehow seem to work well together. I’d say it was even worth the wrath of the soccer moms.
Filed under: Movie Reviews | Tags: elizabth banks, jay and silent bob's secret stash, kevin smith, new jersey, quik stop, seth rogen, zack and miri make a porno
Having lived in Kevin Smith territory for some time, I have often been able to recognize nearly all of the filming locations he uses for his movies (except, of course, the ones he films out-of-state and tries to pawn off as the native land, a la Mallrats and Clerks II). Holden and Banky’s apartment in Chasing Amy is also known as the local record store Jack’s, and the cigarette-butt-laden boardwalks seen in Dogma are where Boyfriend and I jaunt off to on date night. The famed Quik Stop was where I’d stop for a soda when en route to work (and yes, it is as funky-smelling as one would assume). Local celebrities grace the insides of Jay and Silent Bob’s Secret Stash, and even Smith himself comes by every now and again to visit the local haunts or promote some new schtick. So when I learned that his latest foray didn’t even pretend to take place in America’s armpit, I was simply stunned.
Perhaps it’s because Zack and Miri Make a Porno doesn’t overtly attempt to brand itself with Smith-esque qualities; there are no recurring characters (actors, sure, but what else is Jason Mewes supposed to do?), the general smut level dips to an all-time low (or would it be an all-time high?), and it employs a great number of the usual Apatow crew, making it at times nearly indistinguishable from a run-of-the-mill Seth Rogen vehicle. However, for all its foibles, it has a lot of charm, most of which is mass-produced by platonic pals Zack and Miriam (Rogen and an adorably self-deprecating Elizabeth Banks). The jokes are forgettable, but they get you while they’ve gotten you. The script isn’t stellar, but it’s endearing, nonetheless. The motley crew of characters is unlikely, but it works. The film isn’t Kevin Smith, but it’s entertaining in the long run. It’s a sell-out that hasn’t jumped the shark, even if it has moved to Pittsburgh.
My final assessment? Sure, it’s worth the jaunt to the cinema. If nothing else, it’s a stellar chance to see a woman blow a bubble with her who-si-whats-it.
Filed under: Movie Reviews | Tags: arrested development, david cross, jason bateman, kat dennings, michael cera, Movie Reviews, nick and norah's infinite playlist
Call me a sap, but there’s something sacred about each and every actor who ever graced the television screen in the classically cult-ified exploit that once was Arrested Development. Now, don’t get me wrong – many of these faces were nothing new to me; I’ve been a fan of David Cross’s sketch comedy Mr. Show for years, and I couldn’t help but swoon over Jason Bateman in all of his lackluster roles. But AD iconized these meager actors, launching them directly into the hearts and fangs of a once-weary audience. And thus it was born: pure, unadulterated love. That is, of course, before creator Mitch Hurwitz cleverly pulled the plug post Season Three so as not to jump the shark. Ah, the days of yore are longingly missed, but one little glimmer of its legacy bravely lived on. And that, my friends, is Michael Cera.
I’ve been enamored with Cera since he uttered the words, “I thought you meant of the things we eat.” He’s been the uncomfortable itch you just can’t bring yourself to scratch; the underdog in us all, the adorable boy-next-door. Cera’s knack for delivery is what makes him such a sought-after commodity, and – what’s best about him – he carefully chooses his roles so as to maintain his independent credibility. So when I learned that he was to star in yet another film, I was expecting an Apatow gem. I catalogued the release date in my head, easily talked Boyfriend into taking me to the cinema, and waited for the awkward laughs to be released. But alas, Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist did not bring anything but the crashing and burning of a teen legend.
Sure, Michael Cera didn’t stray far from his normal mannerisms; in all honesty, he was truly not at the problem at the root of this evil. However, this film provided nothing more than a few cheap gags, a wash of plot, and an obnoxiously false belief that it is indeed worthy of the actors it employed. What irked me so much about this film was how it sold itself prior to release, making the masses believe it actually held some time of profound, heartwarming credibility. It seems that no one was one the same page when this waste of energy was created, and somehow, the casting agents and trailer editors weren’t even reading the same book as the rest of the crew. This film tried so incredibly hard to be poignant and snarky, but it could not rise above the ranks of unrealistic, unimportant teen movie. Any Gossip Girl actor would have more aptly suited the role of Nick, and the cantankerous Lindsay Lohan might have been a perfect Norah. If I wanted to see Just My Luck, I would have Netflixed it for free. I’d save the ten bucks.
Filed under: Movie Reviews | Tags: brad pitt, burn after reading, coen brothers, frances mcdormand, george clooney, john malkovich, Movie Reviews, richard jenkins
Well, of course, I could not stop myself from racing out to see the newest Coen Brothers foray that is Burn After Reading, but I had no trouble procrastinating on a review. Lest not one be too hasty; this particular breed of black humor comedy usually warrants a day or two to mull over its content before racing to report. I’ve always saved a special place in my dark heart for the Coen brothers, proudly calling Fargo and Raising Arizona two of my all-time favorite flicks. They have successfully created an empire unto themselves boasting two starkly varying genre of film that are both inevitably Coen by design – the bleak, black, and highly humorous (see: Barton Fink, The Big Lebowski, The Hudsucker Proxy), and the deep, dark, and unnervingly nuanced yet masterfully composed (a la: No Country for Old Men, The Man Who Wasn’t There, Blood Simple). Burn After Reading, which boasts a roundhouse of namely regulars such as Frances McDormand, George Clooney, and Richard Jenkins, falls neatly into the fangs of the black and the bleak.
Burn thrives on the incendiary foible that is the work of more than a few bumbling idiots. A hot-headed and recently wronged government operative (played nauseatingly well by John Malkovich) aims to pen his collective memoirs upon termination due to his “drinking problem” (“You’re a Mormon. Compared to you we all have a drinking problem”). When his personal files are discovered by a depressed and down-on-her-luck fitness instructor (McDormand), she employs the aid of her puppy-like pal (an incredibly wacky Brad Pitt) in hopes of exploiting what she believes to be of great importance. Enter George Clooney as a paranoid ladies’ man, and you’ve got a recipe for, well, a dementedly good time.
This certainly isn’t the grandest or the smartest of the Coen’s films, it lagged at certain points and relied much on its acting to carry it along. However, there is something so vividly poignant about the character development that begs forgiveness for its ludicrousness. As films go, it prevailed enough to become a good suggestion for your screwball friends. It’s entertaining, and murky, and sick, sad, and slick. It’s a large notch in the right direction of the Coens’ belt, and it has their mark emblazoned all over it, complete with spontaneous bloodshed and highly dynamic characters. My mother sent me a simple review via text message which seemed to wrap it up much better than I could in three simple words: “Wild, wacky fun.” Hmm… “Excellent job, Mom.” Well, there you go.
Filed under: Movie Reviews | Tags: amy poehler, catherine keener, elizabeth shue, hamlet 2, Movie Reviews, steve coogan
Despite the intoxicatingly comely weather, Boyfriend and I headed for the cinema in search of the dark of the matinee. Our intentions were as simple as the movie we chose – the “dementedly hilarious” Hamlet 2. After having witnessed a few off-color trailers boasting the Sundance hit, my curiosity ran rampant with the possibilities of strange directions in which the film might progress. However, I was handed exactly what I had most expected – a wacky, blasphemous romp exploiting the silliest of scenarios. As a half-baked hack of a drama teacher attempting to “save drama” through the means of a highly controversial and completely ridiculous musical chronicling the aftermath of the Bard’s kill-all, Steve Coogan truly brings home the most uproarious of the film’s scathing lines. Catherine Keener, playing his crudely aloof wife, adds impressive depth to her potentially-flat character (almost too much so), and Amy Poehler manages a few chuckles as a vicious public defender.
However, the actors are what progressively pull this film along; the story – though uproarious, isn’t quite enough to stand on its on two feet. While I’d have to give the writers credit for intentionally swaying from the obscenely overdone Dangerous Minds-esque plot (We’re such bad kids! Such rabble rousers! Oh, wait. No. We just wanted someone to pay attention), the character development on behalf of the drama students is somewhat lackluster and begs for more. The meager plot and eager characters are enough to plod the film along until its ludicrous culmination – the coup de gras of tasteless, tongue-in-cheek, titillation in the form of a play – which, somehow, manages to be somewhat poignant. I’m not sure Hamlet 2 is deserving of anything spectacular, but it aims to please in the simplest of ways – with a pair of roller blades and an absurdly adorable Elizabeth Shue. And really, what more could anyone possibly want?
depravity and gravity have always got a grasp on me. 