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11Dec

Doc Martin

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As a television slave, I can’t think of anything more delightful than discovering some buried gem amid all of the mindless rubble on screen. Doc Martin, a British comedy-drama on the air since 2004, is one of those surprising finds. Not only is the show intelligently written, but there are four seasons of past episodes available (mostly) free of charge on the Internet.

The series depicts the travails of Dr. Martin Ellingham (Martin Clunes), an uptight – to put it mildly – surgeon-turned-general practitioner who abandons London for the small village of Portwenn, an absolutely stunning hamlet on the Atlantic coast of Cornwall. (The show is filmed on location in Port Isaac in southwest England. Who knew that Britain has resorts rivaling Montego Bay for pure physical beauty?)

To say that Portwenn’s inhabitants are unsophisticated is akin to describing recent British politics as serene and understated. Doc Martin is yet another fish-out-of-water formula show, to be sure, but this is no Green Acres. The plots are consistently funny and – generally when you least expect it – poignant.

Clunes’s doctor, a spinoff character from the 2000 film Saving Grace, is a source of endless amusement. Ellingham is the stereotypical, stiff-upper-lip Brit we’ve seen in so many English exports, but Clunes gives the character a vulnerability that is at once hilarious and sympathetic. He is supported by a top-notch ensemble cast. Caroline Catz, as Ellingham’s on-again, off-again schoolteacher love interest, is the kind of girl you want your mother to meet – but not until after you’ve enjoyed a healthy roll in the hay with her. (Catz, that is; not your mother.) The humor in Doc Martin all flows from character – and what great characters!

Doc Martin has been an award-winning ratings smash in England for six years. Production begins on season five in 2011, but in the meantime, it’s great news for Americans that past episodes of the show are available on PBS and the Internet. Most episodes can be found on Hulu, Fancast, The Internet Movie Database, and Netflix.

Creator: Dominic Minghella Cast: Martin Clunes, Caroline Catz, Ian McNeice, Stephanie Cole, Joe Absolom, Katherine Parkinson, Selina Cadell, John Marquez Airing: 2004-present

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08Dec

The Island of Dr. Moreau

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by H.G. Wells

Of the handful of H.G. Wells classics I’ve read, The Island of Dr. Moreau is probably the most thought-provoking – and the least entertaining. It’s morbidly interesting because, unlike the space aliens in The War of the Worlds or time travel in The Time Machine, the themes Wells explores are grounded in reality: evolution, nature versus nurture, religion, and man’s relationship to his fellow animals. But Island is nowhere near as much fun as the author’s other science-fiction stories because its protagonist, Prendick, does not hunt, chase, or flee from Dr. Moreau’s monstrous creations (a hybrid of humans and beasts); mostly he just observes them. And these observations are not so much thrilling as unpleasant, a depressing reminder of all that is wrong with human nature, and science run amok.

03Dec

All Good Things

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Somebody goofed – big time – when developing All Good Things, the new thriller starring Ryan Gosling and Kirsten Dunst. For raw material, the filmmakers had the fact-based, bizarre story of multimillionaire Robert Durst, a can-you-believe-this melodrama involving some, if not all, of the following elements: murder, embezzlement, blackmail, cross-dressing, corpse dismemberment, and a woman now missing for 28 years.

With all of that material to work with, what did the producers of All Good Things come up with? A routine Lifetime drama about a battered woman and her unpleasant in-laws.

For two-thirds of the movie, we watch Dunst play innocent bride to husband Gosling’s – well, it’s hard to peg Gosling’s portrayal of the enigmatic Durst (called “David Marks” in the film). As played by Gosling, the man is sullen, distant, talks to himself, and has mother issues, but hardly seems the threatening type. Lurking in the background, pulling son David’s strings, is omnipotent real estate mogul Sanford Marks, played grumpily by Frank Langella.

Katie (Dunst) wants children; David does not. He hits her; she rationalizes his behavior. She wants her freedom; he wants to control her. Blah, blah, blah and haven’t we seen all of this dozens of times? Katie agonizes. Katie contemplates leaving David. Dunst bares her boobies in a shower scene, which makes news in The Huffington Post and Vanity Fair. Dunst … should never have been the focus of this film.

It’s only in the final third of the movie that the filmmakers turn their attention to the real story: odd, odd David/Robert. But by then it’s too late. All of those elements that make the Durst story so compelling – the murder, madness and mayhem – are crammed into the final act like so many body parts into a suitcase. The story becomes jumbled and teases us with what might have been a pretty good thriller. Grade: C+

Director: Andrew Jarecki Cast: Ryan Gosling, Kirsten Dunst, Frank Langella, Lily Rabe, Philip Baker Hall, Michael Esper, Diane Venora, Nick Offerman, Kristen Wiig, Stephen Kunken Release: 2010

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01Dec

American Graffiti (1973)

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Random scrawls on the wall (with a can of spray paint) about an American classic:

Ron Howard made the best decision ever by an actor when he moved from in front of the camera to the back. Howard was, frankly, a dreadful actor. Young Ronnie Howard got by on TV’s The Andy Griffith Show because he was such a cute little kid. Older Ron got by, again, on Happy Days because Richie Cunningham was a stiff, awkward young character played by a stiff, awkward young actor. American Graffiti, in many ways a delightful showcase for actors, grinds to a screeching halt every time Howard’s character, Steve, is the focus. Worst scene: Near the end of the film, Steve glances at his wristwatch and says to Curt (Richard Dreyfuss), “Where are you going? It’s awfully early in the morning.” If that reads bad, wait until you hear Howard say it.

Other than Howard, the actors shine in this film. This is odd, because this is a George Lucas film, and the soft-spoken filmmaker is not considered an “actor’s director.” Said Harrison Ford, who got his big break in Graffiti: “George is not overly fond of the actual shooting part of filmmaking.” Lucas was more at home in the editing room or creating special effects. But in 1973 he paid attention to the characters in his movie and the result was magical. I think American Graffiti is his best film, and yes, that includes the overblown Star Wars flicks.

I have mixed feelings about the use of nonstop period music in the film. Lucas’s decision to do this was so successful that it influenced scores of movies to come — especially those set in the ’50s or ’60s. Thanks to this rock-and-roll overkill, there was a time when I never again wanted to hear Buddy Holly. Or The Platters. Or The Flamingos, et al.

This excerpt is from a 2001 review of American Graffiti on a Web site called thedigitalfix: “Maybe it’s because we’re British, or maybe it’s because the film has lost most of its charm over the years, but either way, American Graffiti isn’t as good as the praise that has been heaped on it.”

Well, maybe it’s because I’m American, and maybe it’s because I was once an anxiety-riddled, naïve teenager cruising the streets of a small American town, but the film has lost none of its charm for me. Lucas has called his first hit movie “uniquely American,” and I suppose that’s true — but only to an extent. It’s a universal story because all of us were teenagers, but it’s American because it does such a wonderful job depicting a specific place and a specific time. Grade: A

Director: George Lucas Cast: Richard Dreyfuss, Ron Howard, Paul Le Mat, Charles Martin Smith, Cindy Williams, Candy Clark, Mackenzie Phillips, Wolfman Jack, Bo Hopkins, Harrison Ford Release: 1973

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29Nov

Tiny Furniture

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Tiny Furniture is like an e-mail you receive from your 22-year-old niece. You laugh at her misadventures, shake your head over her latest choice of a boyfriend, and worry just a bit about her future. It’s an amusing and charming e-mail, but she has no earthshaking news, and by the next day you’ve forgotten all about it.

Tiny Furniture creator Lena Dunham is being anointed the next “it” girl by some critics, heralded as a filmmaker with a bright future. Dunham shot her movie on a shoestring budget in her real family’s Manhattan loft, and enlisted friends and family members to play pivotal roles in what, I assume, is a more-than-slightly autobiographical film.

Dunham directed, wrote, and stars in the film as Aura, a recent college grad who returns to her mother’s home to little fanfare, and proceeds to struggle with men, old friends, work and, mostly, an apparently unsympathetic mother and a self-centered younger sister. Aura is no pampered product of the new millennium; she’s a friendly, funny, and smart cookie cast adrift in that messy thing called adulthood.

It’s been a long time since I graduated from college (even longer since I was a young woman), so I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest that young women will relate to Aura’s heartbreak and frustrations much more than I did. But I also believe that exceptional movies transcend gender, reaching out to both sexes and all ages. Tiny Furniture doesn’t do that. Its dramatics might be profoundly relevant to my 22-year-old niece – but not really to anyone else. Grade: B

Director: Lena Dunham Cast: Lena Dunham, Laurie Simmons, Grace Dunham, Jemima Kirke, Alex Karpovsky, David Call, Merritt Wever Release: 2010

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28Nov

The Most Dangerous Game

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by Richard Connell

Connell’s prose reminds me of Cornell Woolrich. At times his writing feels amateurish, but like Woolrich, the man knows how to build suspense and tell an original tale. At just 35 pages, Game is really just a short story, but Connell packs more action into those pages than Tolstoy does with ten times the length. The plot: An American falls off a yacht in the Caribbean and is swept to shore on a mysterious island. Once there, he becomes the “guest” of an aristocratic Russian hunter who informs the American that they will go hunting together – with the Russian as hunter and the American as prey. It’s melodramatic hokum, but it works. My only complaint is with the Hollywood ending, which feels false.

27Nov

The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948)

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Why am I not in love with this film?

Whenever critics compile their lists of great movies from Hollywood’s Golden Age, John Huston’s The Treasure of the Sierra Madre is among the honored. Yet to me, the film seems to be … missing something. This, well, “deficiency” prevents Huston’s adventure tale from being as emotionally satisfying as other classics from the 1930s-1940s.

The movie certainly has an impressive pedigree. Some people think it’s Huston’s best work, and this is the same writer-director who gave us The Maltese Falcon, Key Largo, and The African Queen. You can find critics who believe the late, great Humphrey Bogart delivered his best performance in this film. When I asked my own father to name his favorite movie, he cited this one. So why don’t I like it more? Again, something … isn’t there.

For the uninitiated, Treasure tells the story of three down-on-their-luck American expatriates in 1920s Mexico. They team up to prospect for gold, and during their pursuit must battle bandits, the elements, and their own self-interests. There is lots of action, and everyone who sees the film agrees that Bogart and especially Walter Huston (John’s Oscar-rewarded father) are superb.

Huston’s script has the universal themes of greed, loyalty, and honor that one might expect from a classic. The movie was mostly shot on location in Mexico, a rarity in 1947, which adds immeasurably to its authenticity.

So once again, why on earth am I so unmoved by this beloved movie? Two reasons, I think: Despite the bravura performances by Bogart and Huston, their characters aren’t particularly likable. I didn’t care if any of them got rich.

And I finally figured out what was missing from the film: women. Grade: B

Director: John Huston Cast: Humphrey Bogart, Walter Huston, Tim Holt, Bruce Bennett, Barton MacLane, Alfonso Bedoya, Robert Blake Release: 1948

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27Nov

Sense and Sensibility

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by Jane Austen

There are two ways to read a Jane Austen novel: with modern-day sensibilities, or by just going with the flow. I recommend option number two. Austen is such a witty writer that it’s easy to forget you are essentially devouring soap opera, and are getting caught up in the feelings, intrigues, and status of characters who are, after all, a bunch of privileged snobs.

The men in Austen books never seem to actually work and often fall prey to the sins of “idleness.” The women are no better, wasting their time on gossip and self-pity. Meanwhile, their servants and other lower-class citizens are barely worth a mention. However … if you do go with the flow and can bring yourself to identify with Austen’s pampered people, it’s a rewarding experience. Also, it’s not often I can claim that a book published in 1811 made me literally laugh out loud – but this one did.

25Nov

Countdown to Zero

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There are two impressions I can’t seem to shake after watching Countdown to Zero, a new documentary about nuclear-weapons proliferation. One of them is the sobering knowledge that movies like WarGames, Fail-Safe, and Dr. Strangelove are not as far-fetched as they might seem. Much of what passes for escapist entertainment in those films – technical malfunctions, human error – is alarmingly close to reality.

But there is also an image in the film that haunts me: a black-and-white photograph of J. Robert Oppenheimer, the American scientist commonly known as the “father of the atomic bomb.” In the famous photo, Oppenheimer wears a fedora, smokes a cigarette, and stares directly into the camera lens. His eyes appear to issue a warning: “I was Pandora,” they seem to say, “What happens next … is up to you.” Oppenheimer looks fatalistic – which can’t be good news for the rest of us.

The following is an Oppenheimer quote from 1947, two years after the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki: “I have been asked whether in the years to come it will be possible to kill 40 million American people in the 20 largest American towns by the use of atomic bombs in a single night. I am afraid that the answer to that question is yes. I have been asked whether there is hope for the nation’s security in keeping secret some of the knowledge which has gone into the making of the bombs. I am afraid there is no such hope.”

Hope seems in short supply in Countdown to Zero. Director Lucy Walker’s film is a catalog of near-disasters and rampant dissemination of nuclear materials to just about anyone who can pay for them. This onslaught of nightmarish news left me feeling pessimistic, despite Walker’s pro-disarmament message. It’s not exactly heartening to be reminded that there are still 23,000 nuclear weapons on Earth. Also disturbing is this potential conflict between the United States and Russia, as described by a member of the World Security Institute: “Within 15 minutes, all of the forces on launch-ready alert [could] be in the air in their flight to the other side of the planet … and they could kill over 100 million Russians and Americans within 30 minutes.”

I’m guessing it won’t help anyone sleep at night to learn that, should the American or Russian presidents be forced to consider retaliation in the event of a (possibly false) reported attack, the amount of time allotted to make that decision would be about the same as the time you just took to read this review. Grade: A-

Director: Lucy Walker Featuring: Graham Allison, James Baker III, Bruce Blair, Tony Blair, Zbigniew Brzezinski, Jimmy Carter, Joseph Cirincione, Mikhail Gorbachev, Robert McNamara, Valerie Plame Wilson Release: 2010

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22Nov

High Lane

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Scenario 1: Lady A is late to the movie theater. Parking is impossible to find, and the concession-stand line is endless. As a result, Lady A misses the first half of High Lane.

Scenario 2: Gentleman B watches the first half of High Lane, but receives an emergency call from his cousin Bertie, who urgently needs bail money. Gentleman B departs the theater, and misses the second half of High Lane.

The following day, you bump into Lady A and Gentleman B, and ask both what they thought of the film. “A crackerjack adventure with gorgeous scenery,” Gentleman B tells you, adding, “I highly recommend it.” “It was horrid, cliché-ridden, slasher dreck,” says Lady A. “By all means, avoid it,” she adds. Who is giving you the best advice – Lady A or Gentleman B? Answer: both of them.

The first half of director Abel Ferry’s … well, “horror/adventure,” sports some of the best, tensest mountain-climbing scenes this side of Cliffhanger. The mountain views (allegedly of the Balkans but reportedly shot in France) are breathtaking. Ferry’s depiction of these nerve-wracking crags and crevices and their effect on one character’s vertigo is dizzying, indeed.

But for some unfathomable reason, at the 45-minute-mark the film makes a Wrong Turn and steers away from nail-biting action to tiresome, seen-it-all-before horror. I suppose the idea must have looked good on paper: Deliverance Meets Leatherface.

Our heroes, a group of five young and attractive (naturally) climbers, suddenly find themselves stalked and cocked by a sort of Croatian Keith Richards, an unwashed hillbilly who, in the grand tradition of all bogeymen, has no trouble snaring young people who sprint full-speed while he simply plods after them. Everything you expect to see is included: A young woman miraculously displays martial arts skills; people go places they shouldn’t, and do things they oughtn’t – all in the service of a plot gone spectacularly wrong. Grade: C

Director: Abel Ferry Cast: Fanny Valette, Johan Libereau, Raphael Lenglet, Nicolas Giraud, Maud Wyler, Justin Blanckaert Release: 2009

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