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30Apr

American Conspiracies

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by Jesse Ventura

Earlier this month, Jesse Ventura was on CNN asking why so few in the mainstream media were reviewing his new book, American Conspiracies. Now that I’ve read it, I’m wondering the same thing. Ventura raises too many provocative questions, and offers too much documentation, to have his book dismissed as the work of a “conspiracy nut.”

The book has failings – sloppy editing, and so many allegations that the book becomes a fact-checker’s nightmare (which could explain the lack of reviews; it requires hard research to prove or disprove his theories) – but his overall message is clear: You’re not paranoid if they really are out to get you. The kind of assaults on our cherished institutions that Ventura outlines, covering everything from Lincoln’s assassination to the Wall Street bailout, are not pleasant, so it’s easier to go into denial than to acknowledge that some of his allegations might be true.

30Apr

Imbued

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Director Rob Nilsson made the mistake of taking audience questions after a screening tonight of his new drama, Imbued. Nilsson had just explained his directorial intention to not spell everything out in the film, to make viewers draw their own conclusions. What did the screening audience think of his movie?, Nilsson asked.

A woman in the back piped up and asked him why the main actors (Stacy Keach and Liz Sklar) had to be naked at the end of the film. Why, she wanted to know, had Nilsson made his movie from the “typical” male point of view? Since we never actually see Keach’s nudity, but the camera does linger on a fully nude Sklar, I assumed the woman was taking issue with the objectification of the young actress. Nilsson, clearly taken aback by her question, said something about trying to show the “beauty” of both characters.

Imbued is all about characters — just the two of them. Keach plays Donatello, an aging bookie who through chance winds up spending the night with Lydia (Sklar), a high-end call girl. (Here’s a separate issue the lady in the audience could have objected to: yet another greying actor — Keach is 69 — romantically paired with a much younger actress.) Donatello and Lydia verbally joust, push emotional buttons, and eventually bare more than just their bodies.

The proceedings aren’t as dull as that description might suggest. The story, set against some stunning skyline shots of San Francisco at night, unfolds at a leisurely pace, but this is an actors’ movie, and Keach and Sklar are absorbing throughout. With or without their clothes. Grade: B-

Director: Rob Nilsson Cast: Stacy Keach, Liz Sklar, Michelle Anton Allen, Nancy Bower Release: 2010

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28Apr

Pan’s Labyrinth (2006)

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It almost feels like heresy to say anything negative about Guillermo del Toro’s 2006 movie, Pan’s Labyrinth, but why do I get the feeling it will fail to go down in film history as, say, a darker, more adult, The Wizard of Oz?

Not because of the dazzling visuals, which deservedly won Oscars. Not because of del Toro’s direction, which is stylish and well-paced. I think it’s not quite a masterpiece because of its story, which weaves two threads that don’t quite mesh. Story A concerns young Ofelia (Ivana Baquero) in post-Civil War Spain, 1944. Ofelia’s widowed mother has remarried the ogre-like Captain Vidal (Sergi Lopez), who is bent on ridding the Spanish hillsides of rebel guerrillas. Captain Vidal is dismissive of Ofelia and her mother and cruel to everyone else. And so, in time-honored fairytale fashion, we have a young heroine and her evil stepfather.

Story B concerns Ofelia’s imaginary escape from her misery, into a labyrinth where she meets fantastic characters small and big, good and bad. She is told that she will become princess of this magical realm and be reunited with her true father, but first she must accomplish several tasks.

This dream world, which del Toro details superbly, does not connect all that well with Story A. It does so at the end of the movie, but prior to that Ofelia’s excursions into the labyrinth seem more like a fanciful diversion from Story A than a smooth connection to it. Grade: B+

Director: Guillermo del Toro Cast: Ivana Baquero, Doug Jones, Sergi Lopez, Maribel Verdu, Ariadna Gil Release: 2006

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27Apr

The Old Dark House (1932)

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James Whale, British filmmaker and subject of the excellent 1998 film, Gods and Monsters, is best remembered as a director of classic horror movies, including Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein. But Whale had a sly wit that is nowhere on better display than in 1932’s The Old Dark House, which is an absolute hoot.

Whale reteams with fellow British expatriates Boris Karloff and Ernest Thesiger, both of Frankenstein fame, in this madcap “dark and stormy night” flick in which five unfortunate travelers must take refuge at the gloomy home of the Femm family. Movies this old are often filled with unintentional humor, but Whale’s story is black comedy par excellence, and he’s assembled a cast that winks at the audience while keeping a straight face.

Karloff, who by this time in his career must have been wondering if he’d ever get an actual speaking part, is all glowering menace as Morgan the mute butler — until he utters a bizarre, guttural growl, at which point I challenge you not to laugh. Thesiger and Eva Moore, as the bickering Femm siblings, are English eccentricity personified.

When Whale isn’t busy subverting our horror-movie expectations, he’s thumbing his nose at the soon-to-be Hollywood Hays Code, particularly in a weirdly erotic scene between dowdy Moore and comely Gloria Stuart. Moore looks on as Stuart strips down to her satin underwear, and then hisses: “You’re wicked, too. Young and handsome, silly and wicked. You think of nothing but your long, straight legs, and your white body, and how to please your man. You revel in the joys of fleshly love, don’t you?” Those lines are illustrative of the film as a whole: bizarre, creepy, and hilarious. Grade: A-

Director: James Whale Cast: Boris Karloff, Melvyn Douglas, Charles Laughton, Lilian Bond, Ernest Thesiger, Eva Moore, Raymond Massey, Gloria Stuart, John (Elspeth) Dudgeon, Brember Wills Release: 1932

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24Apr

The White Lioness

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by Henning Mankell

Henning Mankell, the popular Swedish mystery novelist, writes two kinds of books: novels with a strong social conscience, and novels worth reading. Sad to say, The White Lioness falls into the former category. Mankell has created a wonderful protagonist in Chief Inspector Kurt Wallander, a depressive, middle-aged cop from tiny Ystad, Sweden. It’s a joy to follow this miserable man as he solves crimes in and around his seaside village. We care not only about whatever crime Wallander’s trying to solve, but also about his relationships with a senile father, a maturing daughter, and his sometimes unreliable police colleagues.

But this winning setup isn’t always enough for Mankell, who in some of his books turns Wallander into a globetrotting James Bond (The Dogs of Riga), and in others like this one, puts the reader to sleep with preachy moralizing, in Lioness about South Africa circa 1993. Mankell is so intent on teaching us all lessons that the actual mystery suffers. And once the story loses allure, every little plot twist becomes less and less believable. My advice to the first-time Mankell reader: Stick to pure Wallander in books like Faceless Killers or Sidetracked.

24Apr

The Eclipse

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This little number from Ireland is the kind of movie you plop into the DVD player late at night, sit back and enjoy, and eventually forget. I don’t mean that as an insult, although I suppose it’s not much of a compliment. The problem with playwright-turned-director Conor McPherson’s ghost story is that it lacks tonal harmony.

The Eclipse begins as a melancholy chiller, with recently widowed Michael Farr (Ciaran Hinds) moping and coping with his two kids in their eerie little house in County Cork. One night, Michael thinks he sees a ghost downstairs.

He volunteers as a driver for a local literary festival, where he meets arrogant writer Nicholas Holden (Aidan Quinn) and, much more to his liking, London novelist Lena Morelle (Iben Hjejle). There begins a middle-aged romance between Michael and Lena, complicated by the jealous and frequently drunk Holden.

Actors Hinds and Hjejle make for a refreshingly mature couple, something Hollywood can’t — or won’t — offer anymore. They both hold back and reveal just the right amount of their characters’ inner selves. We find ourselves pulling for them.

But this is also supposed to be a ghost story. And this is where writer-director McPherson stumbles. He works hard to create a quiet, charming romance between two very nice people, and every 20 minutes or so the SOUNDTRACK EXPLODES as some horrifying apparition manifests itself to poor Michael. It’s exactly the same effect you get in any Nightmare on Elm Street film. It’s jarring and it doesn’t fit in with the rest of the movie. Grade: B

Director: Conor McPherson Cast: Ciaran Hinds, Iben Hjejle, Aidan Quinn, Dorothy Cotter, Eanna Hardwicke Release: 2009

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23Apr

Kick-Ass

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Kick-Ass is stirring up controversy, mostly because of the foul language and violence swirling about its star, young Chloe Moretz, now 13. Moretz plays a superhero of sorts, a gun-totin’, daddy-lovin’ prepubescent lass dubbed “Hit-Girl” who clobbers grown men, is clobbered in return, spews profanity like a hardened convict and, of course, saves the day. She uses the c-word. Both of them.

A lot of people apparently don’t like this. They see it as sinful. They might be right, but the biggest sin that Kick-Ass commits, to my way of thinking, is the imposition of boredom on its audience.

Does the idea of a little girl raising all that hell make you want to see the film? If so, knock yourself out, because that would be the only reason to waste your time and money. The plot is standard comic-book crap: Nerdy teen boy (imagine a movie with a character like that!) dreams of being a hero, mostly to impress the girl who ignores him. He gets his wish in the way only dumb movies like this can contrive, and is soon involved in ridiculous exploits with cardboard villains.

The introduction of “Hit-Girl” and her ex-cop daddy (Nicolas Cage) is mildly amusing. When she swears and fights, it looks like an 11-year-old girl following a director’s instructions. That didn’t bother me so much. Everything else about the film certainly did. Grade: D

Director: Matthew Vaughn Cast: Aaron Johnson, Chloe Moretz, Nicolas Cage, Lyndsy Fonseca, Christopher Mintz-Plasse, Mark Strong, Sophie Wu Release: 2010

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23Apr

Videocracy

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Not long ago I read the novel The Monster of Florence, in which the Italian “justice” system was, well … put it this way: I no longer wish to visit Italy as an American tourist. Now comes director Erik Gandini’s documentary Videocracy, and it’s frightened me away from Italian television.

OK, so I don’t watch Italian TV, anyway. But Gandini’s film elevates the corrupting influence of television to a whole new level. According to this film, Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi has managed to sway an entire electorate with a televisual combination of sex, youth, and beauty. Berlusconi, a charismatic media mogul and three-time prime minister, has used his television and magazine monopoly to convince the Italian populace that, with just a bit of good fortune, every last one of them can live the good life. As Gandini narrates over the film’s final images: “Anyone can become popular. You just need to be seen.”

Gandini shows the folly of this daydream by juxtaposing the pathetic stabs at stardom by Ricky, a talentless young mechanic, with the life of luxury and decadence enjoyed by Berlusconi and his shady acquaintances, including baby-faced talent agent Lele Mora and paparazzi king Fabrizio Corona, whose hobbies include extortion and nude preening for the camera. (Some of you ladies might consider this scene worth the price of admission; Corona is, ahem, blessed — and not the least bit camera shy.)

None of this is a revelation, of course. The cult of celebrity has been examined and re-examined in this country and elsewhere for decades. But unless Gandini’s film is a gross exaggeration of conditions in his native country, we might all do well to turn off the tube and pick up a good book instead. Like, say, The Monster of Florence. Grade: B+

Director: Erik Gandini Featuring: Silvio Berlusconi, Fabrizio Corona, Lele Mora Release: 2010

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21Apr

Crazy Heart

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Crazy Heart presents itself as one of those small movies that can be so endearing, an anti-blockbuster that grows on you — a “slice-of-life” picture — and the kind of film that frequently gets rewarded at the Oscars, if not the box office. Well, Jeff Bridges has his Oscar now, and I have two hours of tedium to show for it.

You have to really, really like Bridges to endure this movie. And I’ve always been a Bridges fan. Since I first noticed him in 1974, stealing a movie (Thunderbolt and Lightfoot) from Clint Eastwood, Bridges went on to play one of my favorite movie villains (the sleek, sophisticated Jack Forrester in Jagged Edge), favorite space aliens (Starman) and, of course, the role with which he’s now most associated, “The Dude” in The Big Lewbowski.

Bridges is good, but not spectacular, in Crazy Heart. The problem is the movie itself, which is as flat as the desert landscape his character, washed-up singer Bad Blake, drives, drinks, and smokes his way through. Nothing happens in this movie. Blake gets drunk and sings a mournful song about his past. He drinks some more and sings some more. He meets a woman he likes. He loses her.

At one point, it appeared that writer-director Scott Cooper was setting up a Rocky-like scenario: has-been country artist gets payback on the upstart whose career he helped launch. But when we meet the young ingrate (Colin Farrell), he turns out to be not such a bad guy. Farrell is wasted in this movie, as are Maggie Gyllenhaal as a saintly single mother, and Robert Duvall as Blake’s longtime buddy.

Crazy Heart is like one of Bad Blake’s self-indulgent, drunken escapades: the sooner forgotten, the better. Grade: D+

Director: Scott Cooper Cast: Jeff Bridges, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Colin Farrell, Beth Grant, Robert Duvall Release: 2009

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21Apr

The Lovely Bones

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“I wouldn’t change anything in the film. The film is very much what we set out to make.” Thus spoke director Peter Jackson in a recent interview, defending his movie The Lovely Bones against some harsh critical reviews. Now that I’ve seen the film, I’m on Jackson’s side.

I read novelist Alice Sebold’s ethereal book of the same name some years ago, and I thought Sebold managed to pull off a marvelous balancing act. She penned a top-notch thriller about the hunt for a serial killer, while simultaneously painting a devastating and poignant picture of one family torn apart by the killer’s acts. And to top that off, the story was narrated by a dead girl — from heaven (or some such place), no less. How on earth could anyone, especially a director as seemingly unsubtle as Jackson (The Lord of the Rings, King Kong) translate Sebold’s prose to film?

Jackson succeeds on a number of levels. The story arc involving the murderer, in particular, is gripping stuff. Young Saoirse Ronan is a winning personality as tragic young Susie. The disintegration of the Salmon family, on the other hand, has been truncated from the novel, and it feels like it. And as for the scenes in “heaven” … geez, I dunno. But they are spectacularly colorful.

I enjoyed this movie, and I didn’t really expect that I would. The more I think about it, I wouldn’t change a thing, either. Well, maybe some of the overplayed 1970s songs on the soundtrack …. Grade: B

Director: Peter Jackson Cast: Mark Wahlberg, Rachel Weisz, Susan Sarandon, Saoirse Ronan, Stanley Tucci, Michael Imperioli Release: 2009

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