DVD Review: American Teen (2008)

Graduating to DVD
12/21/08

Rent it at Netflix

Sundance Film Festival award winning documentary American Teen graduates onto DVD shelves on 12/21/08. Available exclusively for sale at Target and for rent at major locations across the country, Paramount Vantage's release arrives just in time to remind Academy voters of filmmaker Nanette Burstein's extraordinarily intimate portrait of five seniors in the American Midwest.

Filled with enough drama to rival fictional works produced for its target demographic and enhanced by its authentic and no-holds-barred portrayal-- the DVD is extremely light on bonus features but definitely worth a look for audiences of all ages, whether you're in the middle of senior year or still trying to recover from those four years of hell. I'll go into the extras in a moment but first-- here's another look at my original review.

American Teen

Publication Date: 8/1/08
Director: Nanette Burstein

There are times when I regret starting college two years early as, much like Woody Allen’s autobiographical character from Annie Hall who confuses reality with fantasy, most of my vivid high school memories come straight from the John Hughes oeuvre. Thus when I switched to college at sixteen, I become questionably nostalgic about missed proms, the nervousness of walking to the podium to accept a diploma, and the way that some of my friends seem to recall their teenage years with a mischievous glimmer of longing in their eye.

Yet, aside from Matthew Broderick's Ferris Bueller, who seemed like the king of his school (when he was there, that is), the misfits played by Ally Sheedy in The Breakfast Club, Molly Ringwald in Pretty in Pink, and Anthony Michael Hall in Sixteen Candles never really painted an inviting portrait of high school life. Instead, through the eyes of the likable outsiders to whom as a brainy film nerd I instantly related, we witnessed the depiction of high school as a modern day American caste system filled with abused serfs and lowly peasants wherein Queen Bees and jocks ruled the terrain in a seemingly endless parade of perfect hair, skin, family, wealth, romantic luck, and connections. However, when you combine these iconic 1980s John Hughes images with the new incredible documentary American Teen crafted by Sundance Film Festival award-winning director Nanette Burstein, I realize that I’m extremely grateful that I skipped junior and senior year.

The film begins with a Breakfast Club-inspired structure in presenting us with five teenagers who upon first glance seem to epitomize Hughes’s labels from the jock to the princess. Predictably by using a documentary approach, the personalities depicted all transcend the labels to become fully realized human beings in the eyes of the viewer. And in the end, we’re surprised to discover that in the world of high school, not too much has changed in twenty years. In fact, it seems as though Club’s theme song “Don’t You (Forget About Me),” was passed down like a torch from Generation X to Y, since we haven’t forgotten the hateful caste system.

Furthermore, contrary to the popular media assumption that partying, sex, and violence is always the chef’s special in the menu of teenage behavior, the five Midwestern high school seniors chronicled by Burstein find themselves under a tremendous amount of pressure not only from one another but parents, coaches, and teachers as they all near the finishing line of their obligatory education. However the quest to “fit in” still reigns supreme and in the technological era of text messaging, digital cameras, reality television, and instant Internet gratification ranging from e-mail, blogging, websites, and YouTube, it’s “amped up the cruelty and the regret-ability factor,” as Burstein noted in the Filmmaker Magazine interview “Personality Crisis” by Jason Guerrasio (Summer 2008; pg. 41-42).

After an exhaustive search for the right location to capture the essence of the American Teen experience, Burstein settled on the small town of Warsaw, Indiana and its sole high school, wherein she discovered five engaging seniors who were completely open to the documentary process. Also, much like the characters in The Breakfast Club, they initially embody each teenage “archetype,” only for us to realize that there’s much more going on behind the easy smiles and nervous laughs than we’d expected from the start.

Ruling the roost of the high school, we meet two popular, attractive basketball stars, Colin Clemens and Mitch Reinholdt, as well as the Student Council Vice President and extra-curricular Queen Bee, Megan Krizmanich. The son of an Elvis impersonator, Colin Clemens was groomed for athletic glory since he was given a Fisher Price basketball hoop as a baby. However, in the pressure to impress talent scouts and earn a scholarship, he begins struggling under the demands of his coach as well as his father who tells Colin in no uncertain terms that if he doesn’t earn a scholarship, he must enlist in the army. Whereas Colin is preoccupied with athletic and familial expectations and anxiety, his teammate Mitch finds his popularity jeopardized when he begins dating outside his social clique after finding himself drawn to the sensitive, brainy, fiercely passionate aspiring filmmaker Hannah Bailey.

Always eager to draw the lines of popular mores and the dos and don’ts of being one of the school’s untouchables, the beautiful, brainy, but unexpectedly vindictive blonde Megan Krizmanich doesn’t think twice about jeopardizing her admission into Notre Dame — there’s a family connection after all — in order to vandalize, trash, or embarrass anyone who crosses her. Obviously, Megan is easily depicted as the villainess of the piece despite her own typed update which plays during the film’s end credits notes arguing that she’s “matured… a lot” since becoming a college student.

And in filming some of Megan’s rather odious high school actions, it does make one wonder about the ethical implications of Burstein’s documentary since as a film, it will live on forever digitally and for better or worse, follow these students the same way that Michael Apted’s Up Series documentaries have followed his subjects their entire lives. While of course the students agreed to be filmed, I’m not sure this is the way that some of the kids would like to be cinematically immortalized, yet admirably Burstein never judges her subjects especially when things get increasingly dramatic.

However, much like in the Hughes movies, it’s the outsiders who most capture our hearts. A self-described “marching band nerd” who notes an obsession with video games, Jake Tusing is the type of guy who is perpetually given the “let’s just be friends” speech in school and despite being plagued with a horrific case of acne, the likable, good-natured, if overly-eager Jake makes it his mission as soon as the film opens to find a girlfriend. And he succeeds… at least for a while, but Jake’s troubles pale in comparison to the nearly catastrophic drama that surrounds the film’s center, Hannah Bailey, the liberal, outspoken, atheist who is dumped by her long-term boyfriend in a rather cruel way early on into the film.

With the ultimate goal to get the hell out of Warsaw and go to film school in California, Hannah battles overwhelming heartbreak, depression, and embarrassment, missing several days of school before she’s finally willing to go back and face her peers, for fear of judgment. And although while we realize upon a first intrigued glance that Mitch will no doubt be drawn to Hannah as she’s one of those vital girls totally unaware of how beautiful she is, we predict that it won’t work out.

Yet, much like Ellen Page's Juno, to whom she will immediately draw parallels and indeed to whom Burstein likens the unforgettable Hannah as well, you just know that she, along with the other students, will ultimately find her own way. Additionally, in a great contradiction to teen films that “usually have these vapid one-dimensional girls,” (Filmmaker, pg. 44) as well as boys, we feel privileged and honored that Burstein chose to make a film that accurately represents the high school experience in a way that unites the generations by their similarities and invites new understanding in exposing the technological differences.

Although, ultimately as an adult, it’s at times painful to witness some of the events without longing to intervene and tell these five kids that it’s all going to be okay and high school will soon vanish and their real lives can begin. And besides, whenever they start to feel nostalgic, there’s always John Hughes to carry them through.

The DVD:
Special Features

As Hannah is largely considered the heart of the film and perhaps the one most identifiable to the audience and Burstein, there's a plethora of extras featuring video blogs with Hannah Bailey as she waxes on all topics including a disarmingly sweet admission of love for her dog.

With the standard inclusion of deleted scenes and "character trailers," one of the more interesting yet painfully short extras centers on the young cast post-production as they answer questions ranging from how they got involved with the project to their reaction to it and relationship with one another today. The three males seem much more at ease and genuine in their discussions of friendship and good-natured ribbing. And while Megan and Hannah put on a brave face, something in their dynamic and perhaps the fact that the two were filmed side-by-side seems uneasy and a bit off as-- perhaps now with a bit more age-acquired wisdom-- they're nowhere near as comfortable or candid as they were when the camera originally rolled back in high school.

An extremely timely film that goes beyond mere sociological interest-- while a cast commentary and a separate filmmaker one would have definitely been intriguing (or even better, a commentary by each individual "character" as the marketing strategy labeled them), it's great to welcome it in any form into a bigger audience embrace. While I'm still fearful that the limited sale at Target is a bad move in getting out there to more viewers, hopefully a special edition will be released in the future that's truly worthy of its eye-opening one hundred and one minute feature running time so everyone can witness what it's truly like to be a twenty-first century American Teen.

Shall We Kiss? (2007)

Now Available

Director: Emmanuel Mouret

“Before a kiss can be given, no one knows if it will be big or small,” Emilie warns Gabriel, the stranger with whom she’s sparked after the two share an unexpected evening together while out-of-town on business. As they’re both committed to others, they contemplate the temptation of a goodbye kiss and debate whether or not such an exchange could be of no-consequence. And, in the tradition of Woody Allen—one of the writer/director/star Emmanuel Mouret’s greatest cinematic influences—Emilie offers her opinion by sharing a cautionary tale.

Soon, using Emilie’s narrative for the film’s story-within-a-story structure, we’re introduced to the recently dumped Nicolas (Mouret) and married Judith (Virginie Ledoyen). Two exceptionally close best friends, their relationship moves into uncomfortable territory after underestimating the consequences of their actions, when Judith consents to a merciful roll in the hay with her sex-starved friend, only to discover—much like When Harry Met Sally—once physical intimacy enters the equation, the friendship is over.

However, a lingering question remains-- namely, where to go from there, especially when they realize that their kiss led to much more than simply sex but possibly love. When it comes to l’amour, nobody does romance quite like the French and, like an unexpectedly irresistible kiss, Mouret’s sophisticated film is no exception, sure to strike a chord with fans of Allen and Eric Rohmer.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008)

Woody Allen signs up Scarlett Johansson for
Spanish lessons in love with Professor Javier Bardem.

One of the most annoying things about being a writer is that I’m best able to process things with my pen or at my keyboard when I’ve had a moment to let things sink in. I’m a big believer in note-taking, especially in film criticism because automatic writing allows some pools of unrealized creativity to eke out. Sometimes I discover things of which I’d been previously unaware until I read back the barely legible sentence fragments I’d scribbled out on a tiny notebook in a darkened theatre. Yet, as a writer first and foremost, I have a harder time with extemporaneous speaking.

The wonderful PR agencies and studio representatives who are kind and courageous enough to screen their films for us wait expectantly with notebooks in their own hands in well-lit lobbies, hoping to get our immediate reactions. Often I struggle to come up with something that’s not only intelligent but balanced. If I hate a film, as a polite Midwesterner (or it could be just feminine instinct), I always find that I want to find something — anything — to say about it that’s positive before I apologetically express my dislike.

Yet, intriguingly, when I’m blown away by a film, often I’m nearly equally at a loss for words. Case in point: Vicky Cristina Barcelona. On the surface, it begins as a typical Woody Allen film with a European feel including a voice-over narration which in this case works well since the setting is Barcelona as we follow two American female tourists on summer holiday. Predictably, issues of love, sex, infidelity, and artistic temperament come into play, per Allen’s most frequently visited themes.

Yet, as a huge Allen fan who’s seen every one of his films (including some I can practically recite from memory), I couldn’t get over the feeling that had I walked into the theatre after his traditional black and white credits had rolled. Just five minutes late and with no prior knowledge of the piece, I wouldn’t have guessed in a million years that it was a film made by Woody Allen.

And admittedly some of his works — even the light, entertaining trifles of the past few years — have felt self-conscious and claustrophobic, which make his epic tragedies like Match Point and Cassandra’s Dream far greater by comparison. However, I'm thrilled to write that Vicky Cristina Barcelona is breezy, earthy, intoxicating, and frankly, sexy as hell. 

And yes, I’m aware that as a professional, “sexy as hell” isn’t the most astute observation yet as the only female critic in attendance with a small crowd of men no doubt hoping to ogle Scarlett Johansson and Penelope Cruz’s much-discussed “threesome” (which ultimately consists of a passionate kiss and discussion), I felt a need to represent how the film played to a female audience and one of the first phrases out of my mouth to the eager representative was in fact “sexy as hell.”

Sex has always been Allen’s topic de jour, but whereas it’s been so cerebral in his other films, discussed to death so that it’s nearly clinical (for example, Annie Hall), this film celebrates love, sexuality, and humanity in a life-affirming and dare I say optimistic approach, atypical of the notoriously pessimistic, introspective Allen. 

Why so sexy, you may ask? Well, surely the country’s setting helps, photographed to breathtaking effect by award-winning Spanish cinematographer Javier Aguirresarobe (Talk to Her, The Sea Inside, The Others) as does the beauty of the film’s leads including Johansson and Cruz, but mostly, the sex appeal is best personified in the unexpected, pitch-perfect, dreamy performance by Javier Bardem.

Bardem, best known to audiences for his Oscar winning turn playing the “bubonic plague”-likened killer in the most recent Best Picture winner, No Country for Old Men, continues to amaze, showing colors to his personality we never knew existed such as warm humor and irresistible mischief, and Barcelona makes terrific use of his range from the start.

Although one could nearly anticipate the internal groans in audience members as the film began using a lengthy narrative voice-over by introducing us to our leads, ultimately the old-fashioned technique sort of fades into the background as the film goes on — still commenting, yet in a way that never overpowers the main storyline. Quickly we become acquainted with best friends, the grounded and responsible Vicky (Starter for 10 actress Rebecca Hall) and the often dissatisfied, feisty, and passionate Cristina (Allen’s latest muse, Scoop and Match Point star Scarlett Johansson). Whereas Vicky has her life all planned out, pursuing a Master’s Degree in Catalan Identity and planning an upcoming wedding to the decent, stable, and successful Doug (Chris Messina), Cristina is endlessly searching for any new adventure to whisk her away.

They both get much more than they bargained for when, staying with family friends (Patricia Clarkson and Kevin Dunn), Cristina catches sight of the smolderingly mysterious presence of Bardem’s Juan Antonio, an artist still reeling from a bad breakup with his ex Maria Elena (Cruz) who tried to murder him before they parted. Whereas most women would run screaming in the other direction upon hearing tales of domestic violence, Cristina becomes all the more intrigued, later using her feminine wiles to attract his attention at a nearby bar. A few hair tricks and eyelash bats later, Juan Antonio is soon at their table, first asking if the two women are American before fixating on Cristina with the painterly come-on, “What color are your eyes?” 

Predictably, loosened up by the wine, thrown off her game by his gaze, and generally disoriented by her foreign surroundings, Cristina falls for it hook, line, and sinker. Vicky is far more skeptical, especially when, just seconds after he begins chatting them up, he proposes the two travel with him by plane for the weekend to Oviedo, in order to look at a favorite statue of his, drink wine, and make love in an only-in-the-movies speech which recalls Sirk’s Written on the Wind. And while we can sense Cristina mentally packing her bag, Vicky finds his bravado obnoxious, telling him off before ultimately, and predictably, she ends up going along to chaperone her friend.

Of course, once they arrive in Oviedo, Vicky is quick to realize that she may have misjudged the painter and soon, both women are taken with Juan Antonio, which sends Vicky into a guilt-stricken panic as she’s promised to the dull but secure Doug and Juan is endlessly prone to obsessing about his ex. Things get far more complicated when, late into the picture, Maria Elena reenters his life in a firestorm of neurosis and passion.

Cruz attacks the role with a fearlessness we’ve never seen before and she’s sure to generate Oscar buzz for a performance that for once doesn’t treat her as an exotic, angelic beauty, but celebrates the complexity of her larger-than-life artistic ability. Allen, who had only seen the actress in her Oscar nominated Volver according to the press notes, was thrilled when Cruz’s reps contacted him directly upon learning that his latest feature was to be set in her homeland. And while, she picks up the pace considerably, it’s relatively easy to get swept up in the spark-filled scenes between her and Bardem without realizing just how good some of the supporting players are in the less showy roles. This is most notably easy to do with the talented Rebecca Hall’s understated, subtle and contemplative Vicky as well as Johansson, who, in her third collaboration with the auteur, is game for anything he throws her way.

With what could have been a rather obvious send up of Jules and Jim, Woody Allen finally hits his stride with this frothy, sexy work. Undeniably hip, refreshing, and wonderfully indicative of the twenty-first century, Vicky Cristina Barcelona showcases a side of Allen that wasn’t evidenced in the classically executed (enjoyable yet mild works) The Curse of the Jade Scorpion, Small Time Crooks, and Hollywood Ending.

Although given the gorgeous leads and locales, all audiences are sure to find themselves taken in by the film’s sex appeal, Vicky Cristina Barcelona is an entirely welcome summer inclusion for sophisticated, thinking women after several months of fun yet admittedly testosterone-fueled juvenile buddy comedies and CGI-driven superhero pictures.

And much like fellow New York filmmakers Martin Scorsese before him did with The Departed and Spike Lee offered with Inside Man, Allen has released one of his best works in years, by widening his lens, opening his mind, and traveling to Spain. Oh and by the way, did I mention that it’s sexy as hell?

American Teen (2008)

Director:
Nanette Burstein

There are times when I regret starting college two years early as, much like Woody Allen’s autobiographical character from Annie Hall who confuses reality with fantasy, most of my vivid high school memories come straight from the John Hughes oeuvre. Thus when I switched to college at sixteen, I become questionably nostalgic about missed proms, the nervousness of walking to the podium to accept a diploma, and the way that some of my friends seem to recall their teenage years with a mischievous glimmer of longing in their eye.

Yet, aside from Matthew Broderick's Ferris Bueller, who seemed like the king of his school (when he was there, that is), the misfits played by Ally Sheedy in The Breakfast Club, Molly Ringwald in Pretty in Pink, and Anthony Michael Hall in Sixteen Candles never really painted an inviting portrait of high school life. Instead, through the eyes of the likable outsiders to whom as a brainy film nerd I instantly related, we witnessed the depiction of high school as a modern day American caste system filled with abused serfs and lowly peasants wherein Queen Bees and jocks ruled the terrain in a seemingly endless parade of perfect hair, skin, family, wealth, romantic luck, and connections. However, when you combine these iconic 1980s John Hughes images with the new incredible documentary American Teen crafted by Sundance Film Festival award-winning director Nanette Burstein, I realize that I’m extremely grateful that I skipped junior and senior year.

The film begins with a Breakfast Club-inspired structure in presenting us with five teenagers who upon first glance seem to epitomize Hughes’s labels from the jock to the princess. Predictably by using a documentary approach, the personalities depicted all transcend the labels to become fully realized human beings in the eyes of the viewer. And in the end, we’re surprised to discover that in the world of high school, not too much has changed in twenty years. In fact, it seems as though Club’s theme song “Don’t You (Forget About Me),” was passed down like a torch from Generation X to Y, since we haven’t forgotten the hateful caste system.

Furthermore, contrary to the popular media assumption that partying, sex, and violence is always the chef’s special in the menu of teenage behavior, the five Midwestern high school seniors chronicled by Burstein find themselves under a tremendous amount of pressure not only from one another but parents, coaches, and teachers as they all near the finishing line of their obligatory education. However the quest to “fit in” still reigns supreme and in the technological era of text messaging, digital cameras, reality television, and instant Internet gratification ranging from e-mail, blogging, websites, and YouTube, it’s “amped up the cruelty and the regret-ability factor,” as Burstein noted in the Filmmaker Magazine interview “Personality Crisis” by Jason Guerrasio (Summer 2008; pg. 41-42).

After an exhaustive search for the right location to capture the essence of the American Teen experience, Burstein settled on the small town of Warsaw, Indiana and its sole high school, wherein she discovered five engaging seniors who were completely open to the documentary process. Also, much like the characters in The Breakfast Club, they initially embody each teenage “archetype,” only for us to realize that there’s much more going on behind the easy smiles and nervous laughs than we’d expected from the start.

Ruling the roost of the high school, we meet two popular, attractive basketball stars, Colin Clemens and Mitch Reinholdt, as well as the Student Council Vice President and extra-curricular Queen Bee, Megan Krizmanich. The son of an Elvis impersonator, Colin Clemens was groomed for athletic glory since he was given a Fisher Price basketball hoop as a baby. However, in the pressure to impress talent scouts and earn a scholarship, he begins struggling under the demands of his coach as well as his father who tells Colin in no uncertain terms that if he doesn’t earn a scholarship, he must enlist in the army. Whereas Colin is preoccupied with athletic and familial expectations and anxiety, his teammate Mitch finds his popularity jeopardized when he begins dating outside his social clique after finding himself drawn to the sensitive, brainy, fiercely passionate aspiring filmmaker Hannah Bailey.

Always eager to draw the lines of popular mores and the dos and don’ts of being one of the school’s untouchables, the beautiful, brainy, but unexpectedly vindictive blonde Megan Krizmanich doesn’t think twice about jeopardizing her admission into Notre Dame — there’s a family connection after all — in order to vandalize, trash, or embarrass anyone who crosses her. Obviously, Megan is easily depicted as the villainess of the piece despite her own typed update which plays during the film’s end credits notes arguing that she’s “matured… a lot” since becoming a college student.

And in filming some of Megan’s rather odious high school actions, it does make one wonder about the ethical implications of Burstein’s documentary since as a film, it will live on forever digitally and for better or worse, follow these students the same way that Michael Apted’s Up Series documentaries have followed his subjects their entire lives. While of course the students agreed to be filmed, I’m not sure this is the way that some of the kids would like to be cinematically immortalized, yet admirably Burstein never judges her subjects especially when things get increasingly dramatic.

However, much like in the Hughes movies, it’s the outsiders who most capture our hearts. A self-described “marching band nerd” who notes an obsession with video games, Jake Tusing is the type of guy who is perpetually given the “let’s just be friends” speech in school and despite being plagued with a horrific case of acne, the likable, good-natured, if overly-eager Jake makes it his mission as soon as the film opens to find a girlfriend. And he succeeds… at least for a while, but Jake’s troubles pale in comparison to the nearly catastrophic drama that surrounds the film’s center, Hannah Bailey, the liberal, outspoken, atheist who is dumped by her long-term boyfriend in a rather cruel way early on into the film.

With the ultimate goal to get the hell out of Warsaw and go to film school in California, Hannah battles overwhelming heartbreak, depression, and embarrassment, missing several days of school before she’s finally willing to go back and face her peers, for fear of judgment. And although while we realize upon a first intrigued glance that Mitch will no doubt be drawn to Hannah as she’s one of those vital girls totally unaware of how beautiful she is, we predict that it won’t work out.

Yet, much like Ellen Page's Juno, to whom she will immediately draw parallels and indeed to whom Burstein likens the unforgettable Hannah as well, you just know that she, along with the other students, will ultimately find her own way. Additionally, in a great contradiction to teen films that “usually have these vapid one-dimensional girls,” (Filmmaker, pg. 44) as well as boys, we feel privileged and honored that Burstein chose to make a film that accurately represents the high school experience in a way that unites the generations by their similarities and invites new understanding in exposing the technological differences.

Although, ultimately as an adult, it’s at times painful to witness some of the events without longing to intervene and tell these five kids that it’s all going to be okay and high school will soon vanish and their real lives can begin. And besides, whenever they start to feel nostalgic, there’s always John Hughes to carry them through.

Control (2007)

Director:
Anton Corbijn

Last year in Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story, the increasingly popular genre of musical biopics was skewered for comedy by John C. Reilly, Judd Apatow and Jake Kasdan. And indeed, in this era of excellent, yet structurally similar works such as Ray and Walk the Line, or just downright experimental musical film portraiture (I’m Not There) that consistently draws both acclaim and Oscar nominations, venturing to make a rock ‘n roll biography has become both predictably dull business and cinematically ambitious all at the same time—or at least that’s the case when it’s done right. And Dutch rock photographer turned filmmaker Anton Corbijn manages to blend both the traditional narrative approach and cinematic artistry of the two aforementioned subgenre types into something uniquely his own, shattering old expectations and releasing and unforgettably searing, intimate, heartbreaking and wholly original work with Control.

Imagine this paradox: a quiet film about rock ‘n roll. Yet, when you consider the subject matter—the tragic tale of soft-spoken, melancholic Joy Division front-man Ian Curtis who took his own life at the tender age of 23, there is no other way to approach the material. Similar to the sound engineering, the decision to film in black and white isn’t artistically pretentious but natural as Corbijn-- who had himself shot some of the most iconic photos of not only the band and Curtis in the late 1970’s and just before the singer’s death on May 18,1980-- realized, as he shared on the DVD featurette, that for a band which released their albums with simple black and white sleeves and had became known to fans via this crisp dual tone photography, releasing the film in color wasn’t even an option. Intriguingly, when principal shooting began, Corbijn realized that using black and white film stock made his work seem far too grainy so he opted to use colored film, which he was able to flip to breathtakingly vivid black and white effect in the development. In the end, the result is a biopic that feels like a vivid document of the given time and place, as Corbijn and his crew filmed in Curtis’s hometown of Macclesfield, England while utilizing as the director noted on the DVD, not only Curtis’s own home but the streets he’d actually walked in his painstakingly accurate portraiture that follows seven years of the troubled musician’s life from age 14-23.

Formerly in cinema, the life of Ian Curtis and the history of the band Joy Division was used as an effective yet underdeveloped, fascinating footnote in Michael Winterbottom’s brilliant film 24 Hour Party People, an exceptional biopic of Granada television personality turned record producer and club owner, Tony Wilson, who helped champion bands of the underground and usher Manchester, England from the era of punk music to new wave. Some of the events of People are echoed here such as Wilson’s devotion to Joy Division, which he believed in so strongly that he actually signed the band to his label Factory Records using his own blood. Interestingly, whereas a majority of Winterbottom’s film was brash, in-your-face and as loudly chaotic as a night in one of Wilson’s clubs, the tone always quieted down when dealing with the character of Ian Curtis, especially before his untimely death and in doing so, American viewers, along with others not as well versed in British punk rock history, and/or those born after the events depicted found themselves longing for more back-story regarding the events.

Thankfully, instead of just using the material as fodder for a salacious tabloid style take from a filmmaker without any personal investment in the subject, photographer turned filmmaker Anton Corbijn made the ideal choice to helm an adaptation of Curtis’s life, having himself been so inspired by listening to the man’s music in Holland in 1979 that he impulsively packed a bag and decided to journey to England to be closer to where the music was made, according to the DVD. Expanding on this, he shared in the disc’s interview that he was close enough to the band for him to know the material and handle it in the right way but not so close that he would’ve been too emotional to be subjective or unable to turn it into a compelling film.

Equally beneficial to the film’s success was the phenomenally fortuitous casting of a relative unknown for the lead role, namely former child actor turned singer, Sam Riley who not only bears an uncanny resemblance to Curtis but given his musical ability, sung all of Joy Division’s songs and—because of his considerable anonymity—gives the film a near documentary feel.

From his earliest days killing time in his room listening to and idolizing glam rocker David Bowie, visiting elderly neighbors in order to raid their medicine cabinets with his best friend, scribbling down poetry and citing Wordsworth from memory, we’re introduced to a gentle, yet troubled Ian Curtis who always seems to feel easiest when alone or in small groups. After he falls in love with and spontaneously marries Debbie (Samantha Morton), his best friend’s girl to whom he states “You’re mine. Irretrievably. And you know it,” Curtis accepts an admirable if admittedly depressing governmental position securing employment for the mentally and physically impaired residents in his community.

Although, at the same legendary, early Sex Pistols concert that Tony Wilson referenced in 24 Hour Party People, the life of Ian Curtis was equally altered when-- high off the anarchic sounds of the punk bands-- he joined up with some mates. Using a rebellious and ironic allusion to the name of the brothel the German soldiers patronized in World War II—Curtis and company formed their own version of Joy Division where he accepted the role of lead singer, forever changing the face of British music.

After a rocky start, signing with Wilson propelled the band and the shy Curtis to stardom much to the chagrin of his humble wife Debbie who realizes that being a musician’s wife—especially when one is still so young—is much more than she bargained for, especially after the birth of their daughter Natalie finds her becoming a near single parent. This is especially taxing when, after his first major gig in London, the formerly healthy Curtis has an epileptic fit on the way home and-- considering the lack of information surrounding the condition in that particular time-- is given nearly half a dozen prescriptions with the medical claim that the doctors are unsure which ones will work and which won’t, as he must now accept life as an epileptic with a treatment best described as “trial and error.”

Perhaps fitting to the hateful adage that good things always happen with bad, while Joy Division becomes an astronomical success with Wilson booking more and more dates on the road, Curtis begins to unravel as the withdrawn, melancholic and solitary youth we first met becomes far moodier and introspective, possibly given the combination of both his new diagnosis or the laundry list of side effects that such powerful drugs can have on a man as they all begin to wreak havoc on his outlook on life.

Contradictions continue as things get unexpectedly sunnier yet infinitely more complicated for Curtis when he meets the beguiling, French Annik Honore (Alexandra Maria Lara), a Belgian embassy employee who becomes taken with the singer at a performance and goes backstage to request an interview with the band as an aspiring journalist. Predictably, the two fall deeply in love. Soon Curtis finds himself leading a double life as a husband and father at home to a wife and daughter he barely knows or with whom he seems to relate anymore and feeling a strong pull towards the woman he feels is his soul mate on the road, as Annik becomes his devoted lover away from home, taking care of him against his wishes when he collapses onstage and becoming his favorite person to just sit with silently when he feels blue (which for Curtis is most of the time). Inevitably, Debbie discovers the betrayal and Curtis grows increasingly cruel and moody, pushing those closest to him away as—in a revealing conversation with Wilson—he begins to mistake love for hate, unsure what he wants in life, and beginning to tire from the breakneck schedule and constant push to perform.

Although viewers know exactly where his life is headed, Corbijn thankfully handles the final days of Curtis’s life with taste, never reveling in the horror of it, and instead just painting a fascinating, frustrating, beautiful, and completely objective portrait of the singer as a young man, never leaping to any conclusions, offering a comforting “bookend” or providing pat solutions as is the custom with many traditional music biopics. Instead, Corbijn and his tremendous lead actor Riley prefer to just let his legacy live on, most likely much like Curtis would’ve wanted with those addictively haunting songs.

Yet, in trying to go beyond the music, after viewing Control, the words and Curtis’s unique delivery of the lyrics of such classics as “She’s Lost Control,” “Isolation” and “Love Will Tear Us Apart,” become far more revealing, making the ironic, sadly deceased lone-wolf Curtis suddenly feel closer to us than ever and more alive all thanks to the filmmakers-- and by turn the audience's decision of having taken the time to walk a mile of his Macclesfield road.

Love and Other Disasters

Director: Alek Keshishian

In order to try and battle what Breakfast at Tiffany’s heroine Holly Golightly would call “the mean reds” of writing traditional romantic comedy, writer/director Alek Keshishian borrows heavily from not only Tiffany’s but also British romantic comedies of the past for the David Fincher and Luc Besson produced Love and Other Disasters.

For his own version of Golightly, Keshishian casts the charismatically affable, brunette beauty Brittany Murphy as “Jacks” (real name Emily Jackson) in a role that demands his actress channel both Golightly as well as the woman who personified her, the legendary Audrey Hepburn. While imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, initially, Murphy’s characterization feels like an academic acting school exercise (at best) and a blithe parody (at worst) but soon enough, she wins us over. Much like the Clueless heroine Cher, played by Murphy’s costar Alicia Silverstone in director Amy Heckerling’s modern version of Jane Austen’s Emma, Murphy’s Jacks is a matchmaker gone wild.

Trying her best to keep everything running swimmingly, the perpetually rushed Jacks treats life as a never-ending party where as the “hostess” she must always ensure the guests are having the most wonderful time. And in doing so she often places the self-created dramas and romantic complications of her friends far above taking stock of things in her own chaotically fast-paced life where there’s barley enough hours in the day.

When she isn’t shagging James (Elliot Cowan), her formerly long-term, currently ex-boyfriend who just can’t seem to rebound from the fact that his love is one-sided, Jacks bonds with-- as Kathy Griffin would call-- her “main gay,” a.k.a. her endlessly supportive roommate Peter Simon (Matthew Rhys). Although aside from Peter, Jacks’ stable of friends are more irritating than winning. This is especially apparent in an extremely annoying and cringe-worthy performance by Catherine Tate as the Sylvia Plath wannabe Talullah who seems to have wandered in after being rejected from the set of either Notting Hill or Love Actually.

However, amidst juggling all of friends’ romantic subplots, Jacks is surprised to find herself enchanted by a new Argentinean colleague, Paolo (Santiago Cabrera). After confidently declaring that she has the best gaydar in the city, Jacks erroneously decides to fix her new acquaintance up with Peter. Of course, all the while the audience realizes she's mistaken Paolo’s intense looks, flirtatious compliments, and attentiveness as merely friendly when in fact Paolo has fallen in love with our flighty heroine.

If it all sounds complicated it is, and the ambitious Lebanese born, Harvard-educated filmmaker Keshishian (most famous for helming Madonna: Truth or Dare) naively tries to squeeze in far too many characters and situations into his film’s brief running time. And while at times the Tiffany’s homage feels overly forced as he unsuccessfully gives Jacks a misguided Golightly-esque catchphrase of calling cherished friends “babies,” it’s an interesting take on the original material.

In fact, it gamely acknowledges that the film version of Tiffany’s took the homosexual male character from the book and repacked him for straight audiences as a heterosexual in traditional romantic comedy fashion. Thereby, Keshishian uses his own lighthearted romp as an unlikely commentary on the decision by having loads of fun with sexual orientation misunderstandings in our contemporary era.

A beautiful and harmless trifle, Love’s carefree blend of sass and soap suds calls to mind the guilty pleasure of watching the superior CW soap Gossip Girl, but much like Gossip, it’s one of those experiences you may plead the fifth on if asked if you're a fan when in snobbish society.

Unfortunately, Keshishian’s attempt is muddled by superfluity as one feels a strong urge to reach for the “fast-forward” button whenever the obnoxious Talullah along with a few other annoying characters appear onscreen. However the chaos does serve an important purpose in augmenting Jacks and inviting viewers to identify with her a bit more than we could with Hepburn’s Golightly.

For instead of Tiffany’s diamonds, in the twenty-first century, multi-tasking is a girl’s best friend and it serves Jacks well in her self-described position as “a superficial assistant at a major fashion magazine,” namely the London branch of Vogue. Although, unlike Anne Hathaway’s discovery that in the fashion world, The Devil Wears Prada, Jacks puts her work—much like her own needs—on the back burner. And instead navigating the Golightly terrain of “rats and super-rats,” she predictably discovers that ultimately she must stop hiding behind luxury products, eccentric “artist” friends, and haute couture to let down her own guard long enough to fall in love.

Wrapping up the work utilizing the rarely beneficial screenwriting favorite "film-within-a-film" approach, much like Jacks, Keshishian called on the support of friends by serving up Gwyneth Paltrow and Orlando Bloom in an unnecessary concluding cameo that jars the whimsical tone and calls far too much attention to itself. Still, with an irresistible turn by Murphy, uniformly excellent work by Rhys, and a nice change of pace for gorgeous Heroes star Santiago Cabrera, one finds that in the end this Love is far from a total disaster.

Hancock

Director: Peter Berg

In order to scare kids straight, there were a string of memorable television commercials which played in regular rotation during Saturday morning cartoons in my childhood that all ended with the tagline of “nobody ever said they wanted to be a junkie when they grow up.” Although that’s definitely true and one can add any addiction (including one to the bottle on that list), however in case of Will Smith’s latest movie character, the alcoholic John Hancock who probably hadn’t intended to fall for the drink, he never said he wanted to be a superhero when he grew up either.

While it’s always a fun game among friends and comic book enthusiasts to speculate about which super power it’d be most beneficial to have whether it’s x-ray vision, the ability to see into the future, immortality, or that always seductive ability to fly (especially now to avoid the price of gas), we seldom realize the downside of an extraordinary gift including the loneliness of being the only one of the kind. Not to mention the forced responsibility and guilt trip we’d face when—like Hancock—we’d prefer to just laze about rather than get up and fight (although he can typically be found passed out in a drunken stupor on a park bench or in his dilapidated camper) and the fact that in a world of law and order, breaking the rules even with the best of intentions is liable to earn you a ticket or two.

In the case of Hancock, he’s racked up over six hundred subpoenas and civil court cases in which he’s failed to make an appearance and as a frequent infamous star of countless embarrassing YouTube videos, his media dubbed “so-called heroics” have made the Los Angeles based superhero a man that citizens love to hate where even children curse at him. Yet all the same, when chaos ensues, he’s the first one they turn to in halting a speeding car full of gun crazed villains, managing to leave several millions of dollars of damage behind by flying into freeway signs, destroying skyscrapers, having close calls with airplanes and using cars or any other object within reach to hurl at another in order to stop whatever crime is being committed, seemingly oblivious that his antics have most likely wreaked more havoc than a typical perpetrator ever could.

Much like our current presidential nominees all turned to professionals to micromanage every aspect of their personality and spin everything related to their persona into the very best version of themselves to win over public opinion, Hancock needs a publicity makeover in the worst way and he fortunately saves just the right man shortly into the film when he pulls good-natured, overly friendly, humanitarian PR agent Ray Embrey (Jason Bateman) from a car trapped on train tracks.

Predictably leaving a ridiculous amount of twisted metal and wrecked automobiles in his wake leading those stuck in the same traffic jam eager to launch into a riot, Ray steps in and reminds them of Hancock’s intentions and good deeds. After “hitching a ride” from the flying man in his battered automobile back to Ray’s middle class suburban home, he invites Hancock to share in the family’s traditional "Spaghetti Madness Thursday." Quickly his young bullied son Aaron (Jae Head) not only takes a liking to the unorthodox, scruffy drunk but eventually requests his help in handling those who target him, although despite her child’s intuition, Ray’s highly skeptical, loving wife Mary (Charlize Theron) seems to immediately sense something in their strange new acquaintance she doesn’t quite trust.



However, partly because he’s grown weary from becoming so ostracized in his community but even more so because he overhears the disfavor in Mary’s voice when she doesn’t know he’s listening, Hancock decides to put himself in Ray’s capable hands in molding his image and turning him into a more traditional version of a superhero that comic book mythology has fostered. To this end, Ray prompts him to make good on all of those warrants by surrendering to the authorities, joining the prison version of alcoholic and rage-aholic anonymous as an act of good faith with the correct impression that eventually the police will realize just how much they need him both back on the streets and back in the skies. And indeed, after the crime rate climbs a staggering thirty percent in just the five days that Hancock has been placed behind bars, the authorities release him to stop an increasingly violent standoff. Of course, this amusingly gives Hancock the perfect opportunity to try and put Ray’s training towards friendlier people skills and beneficial advice to good use in praising the cops, remembering his newfound manners, and above all, not condescending everyone with whom he comes into contact.

After a wildly entertaining, over-the-top, and hilariously offbeat introduction bolstered by the undeniable star quality of one our most likable leading men--Will Smith-- who by now seems synonymous with the 4th of July weekend, the ingenious premise changes along with its cinematic color scheme from light and bright to unexpectedly dark, with a genuinely surprising twist that throws audiences for a loop and completely switches the film’s tone. I hesitate to offer a greater explanation at the risk of giving away spoilers but needless to say, Hancock’s sudden gear switch from wildly fast to deeply heart-tugging jolts us unexpectedly and probably would’ve made a nicer transition had there been more subtle hints dropped into the first hour.

Yet, as I recently learned, following some questionable test screenings, director Peter Berg (The Kingdom) called back his cast for reshoots although it was possibly too late to change enough to give it the right balance it needed for a resounding success. Despite this, I applaud the courage to bring a greater romantic mythology to the piece which admittedly had been so surprisingly light on plot that I think it only occurred to most audiences after the fact, as we’d been otherwise dazzled by the effects to give that much thought to it while in the theatre. Thereby ultimately it makes us wish in retrospect that the creative love triangle set-up of the final act had been developed much earlier on, promoting that to the primary plot in lieu of one sitcom like “uh oh, there goes Hancock” gag after another.

Still, far better than the trailers would have you believe and infinitely better than I assumed it would be going in and in addition to Smith and of course, the always mesmerizing if under-used Theron, one of the brightest additions to the film is Arrested Development’s Jason Bateman who—like his previous work for director Berg in The Kingdom—gamely recognizes his role of selling terrific one-liners with just the right mix of sweetness and tongue-in-cheek humor, making him one of our most valuable supporting players as of late, coming off the heels of his memorable turn in last year’s Juno.

Coastlines

Director: Victor Nunez

Joking that I was the type of person who trips and apologizes to the sidewalk, instead of a swear jar, a few years back, a friend suggested I start an “I’m Sorry” jar. While in our questionable economic climate, it seemed foolish to tie up valuable quarters in what --for lack of a better phrase-- would technically be a jar of overly good manners, his challenge made me grin in realization of how far it went from irrational guilt when I neglect to return a library book on time to feeling like a jerk if I screen a phone call from an overly chatty caller. While a genuine born square or to quote Adam Ant, a certifiable “goody two shoes,” needless to say as a human, I certainly understand the temptation and can even admit that it’s quite possible to have romantic feelings for more than one person at a time-- the heart is extraordinarily resilient and limitless-- yet I can’t even fathom actually cheating on someone. Naïve, I confess and romantic, absolutely, but I’m constantly amazed by the self-created drama we go through in the dating world from another friend who seems to have a new fiancé he calls his “soul mate” every time I run into him to a cousin who married in a Star Wars themed ceremony. Love is crazy indeed and we wouldn’t have it any other way-- otherwise, where would we be without all of its artistic, cultural and historic byproducts?

Romantic infidelity and the ever popular love triangle serve as frequent fodder for not only film noir but soap operas as well and so, as The New York Times noted, it makes the perfect impetus for a sultry Florida set romantic drama from writer/director Victor Nunez. No stranger to Florida, having burst onto the independent film scene with Ruby in Paradise and launching Peter Fonda’s comeback with Ulee’s Gold, Nunez crafts a compelling, if admittedly subpar film that builds its romantic drama courtesy of another oft-utilized film noir plot point-- namely, reuniting two characters who grew up as closer-than-brothers best friends and now find themselves as adults on opposite sides of the law.

As the film opens, our antihero complete with a tongue-in-cheek name-- Sonny Mann (Timothy Olyphant)-- is released early from an overcrowded prison after spending a few years in the joint on a dope running charge. Having taken the fall without ratting on his employers--the amoral Vances consisting of William Forsythe’s Uncle Fred and Josh Lucas as his nephew Eddie-- Sonny returns to the men hoping they’ll make good on a two hundred thousand dollar I.O.U. but predictably learns that they’ve grown even more dangerous while he’s been away, practically running their sleepy seaside town, much to the chagrin of his former best friend turned police officer Dave Lockhart (Josh Brolin). While Dave and Sonny’s father (Scott Wilson) hope Sonny won’t return to his old ways, Dave’s wife Ann (Sarah Wynter) pleads with her husband to keep an eye on Sonny as well, worried that he’ll never grow up.

All it takes is one smoldering look and a halfhearted, half-joking request for his old high school classmate Ann to run away with him and soon Sonny finds himself increasingly drawn to his old friend’s wife as the film which began as a moody noir ramps up into strong romantic drama. However, somehow despite the inarguable attractiveness of the leads, Nunez keeps us at arm’s length and the film suffers considerably with regard to Wynter’s underwritten Ann whom we never quite get a handle on, other than the vague sense of her feeling torn between loyalty to her husband and lust for her friend.

While it seems it’s only appropriate to cheer for the cheater in Ralph Fiennes styled romantic infidelity dramas, by not giving the audience any true understanding of who Ann is as an individual, she begins to feel as one-dimensional as a soap opera heroine, making us wish that more than the rest of the cast, the film centered on the talented Brolin’s heroic, do-gooder cop who definitely deserves more from not only his wife and best friend but the filmmaker as well, which perhaps makes his Dave the one worthiest of an “I’m Sorry” jar.

Legend of the Black Scorpion

Alternate Title:
The Banquet
Director:
Xiaogang Feng

“Something is rotten in the state of…” China? Over the years, the timeless plays of William Shakespeare have been transferred to the screen in countless adaptations both classical and radical from Akira Kurosawa’s versions of Macbeth (Throne of Blood) and King Lear (Ran) to Robert Wise and Jerome Robbins’s Oscar winning interpretation of Romeo and Juliet (West Side Story). The overwhelming influence of the Bard’s comedies and tragedies on not only cinema but popular culture in general is incalculable as his lines echo in the mouths of Quentin Tarantino characters, themes dance throughout our big budget period epics and there have been so many incarnations of legendary villains and heroes such as Lady Macbeth, Iago, and Hamlet that it could cause a graduate student meltdown.

And perhaps even more remarkably every once in awhile a filmmaker is bold enough to admit right from the start that they’re interpreting not just any Shakespeare play but his greatest tragedy Hamlet and bolder still is when the filmmaker’s last name isn’t Branagh. In 1996, Kenneth Branagh, my favorite Shakespearean professor, released what would become to academics the ultimate version of Hamlet in his dazzling masterwork clocking in at 242 riveting minutes that never cease to amaze audiences so much that some film critics have even named it one of the greatest achievements in filmmaking of the entire 1990’s. Needless to say, following in Branagh’s footsteps where Hamlet is concerned took considerable moxie and it was a move best made by a filmmaker willing to take a large departure from the text to offer audiences something remarkably different.

With this in mind, I transport you dear readers to China where master martial arts choreographer Yuen Woo-ping (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, The Matrix, Kill Bill) teamed up with director Xiaogang Feng for their very own adaptation of the Danish prince’s quest for revenge, named the Legend of the Black Scorpion. While admittedly it takes awhile to gain our interest as it annoyingly begins to go into exposition twice orally instead of illustrating things visually, we become quickly aware of the Shakespearean similarities only moments into this visually spectacular award winning film festival favorite, which features the largest set ever constructed in China (IMDb) and was chosen as the official Hong Kong entry for the Best Foreign Language Film category of the Academy Awards.

Obviously inspired by Hamlet, although some critics such as Derek Elley of Variety also drew comparisons to Macbeth, Feng’s film is set during the tumultuous crumbling of the Tang Dynasty in 907 AD as we’re introduced to the film’s version of Hamlet, named Prince Wu Luan (Daniel Wu) in an embarrassingly earnest and awkward opening ballad that’s both as reminiscent and effective of Woody Allen’s usage of a Greek chorus in Mighty Aphrodite. Lovesick and desperately heartbroken, Wu Luan has retreated to study the arts including his love for singing and dancing while still upset that his teacher and emperor father had married his classmate and sweetheart Wan (Memoirs of a Geisha star Ziyi Zhang). When he learns that his father has been killed, all hands seem to point to his power hungry, lustful Uncle Li (You Ge) who soon enough confirms that suspicion by ordering a band of soldiers to execute Wu Luan and planning to first bed and then wed Empress Wan (Ziyi Zhang) to rule by his side. After he predictably escapes the deadly attack, Wu Luan returns to the palace where he’s torn between his affection for his sensuous stepmother who’s even younger than he is, his devoted betrothed the Ophelia like Qing Nu (Xun Zhou) and of course, exact lethal revenge on his murderous uncle, the Emperor Li.

Erroneously advertised as an action picture especially given the martial arts friendly name change from The Banquet as well as Woo-ping’s involvement which finds his jaw-dropping talent given very little opportunity to shine, this gorgeously photographed tragedy shot by award winning cinematographer Li Zhang never manages to draw us in on a level that goes beyond sheer aesthetic appreciation. Partially due to the otherwise excellent Ziyi Zhang who’s far too young for the role that was originally slated for Gong Li or Maggie Cheung (IMDb), even with the part rewritten expressly with this age change in mind, but it’s greatest tragedy isn’t in the film’s scope or in tackling source material from the daunting Shakespeare but in slowing it all to a scorpion’s pace where at roughly half the length of Branagh’s Hamlet, it still feels a good 30 minutes too long. While the Bard’s brainiacs are sure to check it out regardless, honestly it’s time well spent for artists who will undoubtedly find themselves inspired less by the forced, clunky conversation that no doubt suffers in translation and more by the film’s visual poetry in terms of the production design and costuming (both courtesy of Oscar winner Timmy Yip) that’s worthy of Shakespeare himself.

The Fall

Director:
Tarsem Singh
(aka Tarsem)

Those who have spent any significant amount of time convalescing will tell you that nothing speeds recovery along like a worthwhile diversion in the form of an epic tale. When you add thrills, romance, and laughter to the narrative, you create a powerful, side effect free unparalleled prescription for health without the need of co-pays, waiting rooms or HMO red tape where there aren’t any deductions for preexisting conditions and you never have to deal with a clipboard full of paperwork. Imagine your doctors in residence weren’t the test-happy first year medical students still trying to master the right way to hook up a catheter or IV most of us face at our local hospitals but rather Being John Malkovich filmmaker Spike Joze, Zodiac helmer David Fincher and the innovative fellow music video director turned feature filmmaker Tarsem Singh and you’ll begin to get a better sense of their cinematically experimental procedure where reels of film and not dangerous drugs replace mood altering anesthesia. And comparable to the wonderful program Doctors Without Borders, imagine sending this cinematic dream team of Filmmakers Without Borders to expertly stitch together twenty-six locations over four years in more than eighteen countries (IMDb) in Tarsem Singh’s highly anticipated sophomore follow up to his critically acclaimed first feature, The Cell.

Already, the work, entitled The Fall has divided the critics into largely two factions of those who feel his film is a masterpiece and those who call the mad-scientist’s resulting epic an infuriatingly self-important vanity project. However, for my money, Tarsem succeeds where others like Donnie Darko director Richard Kelly failed with his atrocious second feature Southland Tales, in admirably taking risks but like a good doctor, Tarsem contemplates each move with stealth like precision, making sure that the benefits outweigh the negatives for his unforgettably dark, brilliant grown up fairy tale, The Fall.

From the breathtakingly bizarre black and white opening montage set to music and staged as though it were a silent film to its overwhelming eye candy that seems to pour off the screen in each daring frame as it continues, Tarsem’s Fall combines the scope and ambition of a mainstream Hollywood blockbuster with the artistic risk taking of experimental cinema. Admittedly as one who has never been overly keen on fantasy, I worried that it was going to be as bloated and pretentious as some of the critics described but I was quickly taken in by the riveting tale, which was inspired by the 1981 Bulgarian film Yo Ho Ho.

Set in a Los Angeles hospital, we first meet our precocious five year old heroine Alexandria (Romanian newcomer Catinca Untaru) who, still recovering from a broken arm after picking oranges in a grove along with her impoverished family, forms an unlikely attachment with Roy Walker (Lee Pace) a heartbroken, suicidal film stuntman whose legs were damaged after he attempted a ridiculous sequence jumping from a train bridge onto a horse.

Unable to move on with his life because he’s lost the woman he loved, Roy distracts himself along with Alexandria by first sharing with her a story of her namesake Alexander the Great and afterwards, telling her a fictitious epic tale of five heroic men (including Charles Darwin) who aspire to kill the horrible Governor Odious. As the story continually builds from one exciting adventure to the next, Roy begins to subtly blackmail his young friend into procuring enough medicine for himself so that he may end his life, only to have some of his plans backfire in unexpected ways.

Although the bleak nature of Roy’s outlook on life might have been unbearably sad in another’s hands, Singh fills his film with surprising amounts of black comedy, near-misses as the story Roy begins to tell suspiciously morphs into a catharsis when reality and fantasy are blurred as Roy, Alexandria and others they know in the hospital and in their lives begin to make appearances in the emotionally intoxicating and artistically dazzling saga. However, I must warn that it becomes extraordinarily brutal near the end causing us to shift uncomfortably in our seats in trying to anticipate just how Tarsem will conclude the film.

Despite this, admirably The Fall rises from the obvious label of a spectacle picture due to the sheer amazement to be found in the magical sequences that will haunt your dreams after the viewing, by providing a satisfying emotional payoff as well for both of the characters we’ve come to know and love, and both of whom we realize could not have healed without each other nor the unforgettable tale.

And that’s better than an allergic reaction to a prescription medication your insurance won’t cover but the doctor insists you need any day of the week. In other words, go to the cinema and call me in the morning.

Sense & Sensibility (2008)

Director: John Alexander

When it comes to the men of Austen, Pride and Prejudice’s Mr. Darcy has always been in a class by himself. Occasionally he's proven far more memorable than some of the scribe’s heroines, yet when critics and devotees turn their attention to Sense and Sensibility, there’s a nearly universal dissatisfaction with the novel’s dull yet loyal Colonel Brandon who nonetheless manages to secure the affections of the young, spirited Marianne Dashwood. Typically-- due to both their similarities in temperament and their estimable age of mid to late thirties-- Brandon is lumped together with Emma’s Mr. Knightley who often scolds the precocious matchmaker with schoolmarm styled dialogue such as “Badly done, Emma. It was badly done, indeed.” Yet despite the fact that Knightley is consistently deemed preferable to Brandon, to me Emma’s beau seems about as sexy as a collections agent (except when portrayed by Jeremy Northam in the ’96 adaptation) and while-- granted-- neither man is in Darcy’s league, Brandon always seemed like my kind of guy. Trying to validate this belief became a much harder case to make in Ang Lee’s stunning ’95 cinematic version penned by Emma Thompson when the ages of nearly every character (save for Kate Winslet’s Marianne Dashwood), were increased and Brandon was portrayed by Alan Rickman a.k.a. the villainous star of Die Hard who thereafter had a recurring role in my childhood nightmares. However, even though he was brought to life by the man who would become Harry Potter’s Snape, there was always something about his chivalry, his obvious affection for Marianne and the fact that, in stark contrast to his usually dour exterior, he seemed to grow more joyful when in close proximity to her positive, passionate demeanor that genuinely touched my heart.

This is augmented considerably in director John Alexander’s gorgeous Masterpiece Theatre miniseries Sense and Sensibility, which recently made both its television and DVD premiere thanks to the good folks of PBS and the BBC. Startlingly sensual from the start as we’re introduced to the story via a love scene-- for a moment, I wondered if screenwriter Andrew Davies (who penned the best Austen adaptation with the BBC Pride and Prejudice miniseries starring Colin Firth) had picked up the right book. Although quickly we’re pushed headfirst into the familiar tale of the serious, practical and protective Elinor Dashwood (The Bank Job’s Hattie Morahan) and the fiery roughly seventeen year old Marianne (Charity Wakefield)-- two close yet decidedly different sisters who along with their mother (Tumbleweeds and Songcatcher star Janet McTeer) and much younger sister Margaret (Lucy Boynton) are left nearly penniless after their father dies and his estate and fortune are left in the hands of their greedy half-brother and his manipulative Lady Macbeth styled wife, aptly named Fanny.

While Fanny takes an instant dislike to the women, her charming brother Edward Ferrars (Dan Stevens) arrives for an overdue visit and proceeds to form an attachment to Elinor that troubles both Fanny and the Dashwoods when the overly polite Edward and soft-spoken Elinor fail to make any concrete plans regarding marriage. Not so subtly kicked out by Fanny, the Dashwoods retreat to the country when they’re offered assistance and a humble cottage from Sir John, a relative of their mother’s whom she’s never met and find themselves instantly welcomed by not only Sir John and his wife but John’s dedicated thirty-five year old friend Colonel Brandon (The Other Boleyn Girl’s David Morrissey).

Admirably and perhaps indicative of the fact that screenwriter Davies is male, we’re given a greater glimpse into the male characters and dynamics in the film as Brandon is positioned more as a kind, unlikely soul mate than his usual label as an old, tired boor. In sharing with Marianne a genuine love of music and books and eagerly surprising her with sheet music, Davies sets the two of them up nicely until the oblivious Marianne who’s mistaken his generosity for friendship turns her attentions to the Austen’s quintessentially sexy bad boy Willoughby (Dominic Cooper from The History Boys and Mamma Mia!). While those familiar with the rascally Willoughby know exactly where this is headed, it’s great fun to watch another reinvention of the classic that invites comparisons to Ang Lee’s sumptuous classic and at the same time also adds more dimension to the tale in its inclusion of more scenes taken directly from the novel that strengthen characters' motivations.

Clocking in at three hours, surprisingly Alexander’s amiable (as Austen would say) adaptation never ceases to impress. While the talented but under-utilized and erroneously cast Hattie Morahan makes a weaker Elinor than Emma Thompson-- and there’s no replacing the Oscar nominated Kate Winslet-- the film’s real revelation comes in the astute portrayal of Charity Wakefield as a more earnest and relatable Marianne who nearly ignites on screen with fevered passion and becomes even stronger when sharing scenes with Cooper (predictably) but even more so when partnered with Morrissey. Granted as someone in the character’s age bracket it pains me to say that the obvious difference in the ages may not benefit the argument that Brandon is the right man for Marianne in the staunchest critics. However, given the benefit of the adaptation’s length and making his character feel more alive and less one dimensional, perhaps even his fiercest detractors will have to admit that when all is said and done, there’s just something about Brandon after all.

In other words, "Nicely done, Davies. It was nicely done indeed."

Movie Review: Made of Honor (2008)

Director: Paul Weiland

Now Available on DVD & Blu-ray

Filmgoers did a double take in the 1990s when, in trading in a ten gallon hat and cowboy boots for a Mets cap and sneakers, Billy Crystal became a short comedian in the saddle in City Slickers. As unlikely as that image seemed at the time, it made far more sense to see Crystal in cowboy mode in director Paul Weiland’s sequel City Slickers 2: The Legend of Curly’s Gold and much less sense when Grey’s Anatomy doc McDreamy (Patrick Dempsey) decides to stop a wedding by commandeering a horse in Weiland’s latest release Made of Honor. While it’s par for the romantic comedy course to end genre offerings with either the hero or heroine physically chasing down their love via taxis, airplanes, bicycles, etc. and the director at least gets credit for trying to add whimsy to the mix, for Honor's finale, coming off the heels of several clichés in a row, the only way the sequence would have seemed original is if suddenly Crystal had popped up on the screen looking for another western adventure.

Despite this, I was pleasantly surprised by the first hour of the film, which, similar to the other recent lackluster romantic comedy, What Happens in Vegas, reels us in with enough high energy and laughs to keep us interested until they realize we’ve taken the bait, and then instead of continuing to fish, the filmmakers slowly drop us further into the lake. This being said and intriguingly for someone who has never seen an entire episode of Grey’s Anatomy, I was more taken in by Made than Vegas, perhaps due to the sheer charm of the two affable leads played by the aforementioned Dempsey as well as the terrific Michelle Monaghan who’d first impressed me a few years back in Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. Similar to her Kiss costar Robert Downey Jr., the visible roughly decade age difference between Monaghan and Dempsey seems overly conspicuous when we realize that (again like Kiss) they’re playing former classmates, but because they seem to genuinely spark with one another, it’s easy to forgive.

Opening in 1998 at Cornell University, the philandering ladies man senior student Tom (Dempsey) meets cute with worldly, mature freshman Hannah (Monaghan) by mistaking her bed for that of her skanky roommate. Impervious to his unoriginal advances, Tom’s flirtation turns to fascination when the refreshingly honest Hannah calls him on his game and we cut to the duo ten years later as they’ve become best friends in a slightly codependent relationship-- more intimate than most marriages, yet completely platonic as a heterosexual version of Will and Grace.

Now in contemporary New York and having become successfully wealthy after inventing a “coffee collar,” man-whore Tom still chases anything in a skirt despite keeping commitment at bay while ridiculously adhering to lecherous self-imposed rules. And luckily for Tom, his favorite girl Friday, the art restorer Hannah seems all too happy to be his backup date when it matters most such as attending the sixth wedding of his father (a hilarious Sydney Pollack).

Although unlike Will and Grace yet predictably as research indicates that a majority of friendships contain some level of attraction, we suspect that Monaghan may want more out of her relationship. However a possibly awkward conversation is cut short when she journeys to Scotland for a six week work trip. Unsurprisingly, absence makes Tom’s heart grow fonder when he realizes that the bimbos he beds just don't interest him as much as Hannah but he’s in for a rude awakening when she returns engaged following a whirlwind “Bronte” inspired courtship with the unspeakably dull yet attractive Colin (Kevin McKidd). When Tom is asked to serve as Hannah’s "Moh" (Maid of Honor), his friends encourage him to sabotage the event from inside but when the annoyingly flawless Colin can’t be knocked from Hannah’s pedestal, Tom decides instead to leave character attacks out of the mix and try to prove to his best friend that he’s the one who is Made of Honor.

While less enjoyable than the unchallenging yet adorable Wedding Planner yet far better than Julia Roberts’s overwhelmingly mean-spirited My Best Friend’s Wedding, Honor benefits from its gender reversal twist. Unfortunately, as soon as the film substitutes its New York setting for fairy tale Scotland as the wedding draws nearer, the brains of the screenwriters must have fallen asleep as the film continues in auto-pilot, predictably hitting turbulence and cheap laughs for the rest of what felt like an overwhelmingly bloated running time (yet in reality was just 101 minutes).

Still, it's not as horrid as most critics would have you believe and the two actors try to get as much mileage out of the material and their underwritten, bland characters as they can and it’s half successful, until-- and echoing the predictable conclusion-- all the stops (and horses) are pulled to try and ruin things from turning “happily ever after.”