Quick Thoughts - Wrong (2012)

11/13/13: It took me two sittings and a whole lot of will-power to make it through Wrong, Quentin Depieux's latest experimental offering. I was intrigued by his first film, Rubber, a send-up of the horror genre about a homicidal tire, but didn't have the heart to seek it out after hearing that it was unbearably pretentious. While I can't speak to that claim directly, I can say for sure that Wrong fits that description precisely. I have no doubt that Depieux could expound on what the film really means, or that some viewers, desperate to validate their experience spending ninety minutes watching it, could formulate some bullshit about how deep it is, but Wrong is about as shallow as it gets. Its absurdity comes off as jokes in search of a punch-line and its surrealism passes as nothing more than an attempt to cover up Depieux's lack of true imagination. I'm sure he'd argue that I just didn't get it, and to tell you the truth... I'm fine with that; given what's on the surface, I really don't care what's underneath. *

Let Me In - *

Here we go with yet another completely unnecessary remake, this time of the criminally overrated Swedish vampire film, Let the Right One In. Director Matt Reeves, who tried, and failed, to elevate the giant monster genre a few years ago with the over-hyped, under-scripted Cloverfield, tries, and fails again, to elevate the vampire genre with the renamed replica Let Me In.

For some reason Reeves decided to set his film in 1983, 1983 via 2010, with every character dressing like contemporary Brooklyn hipsters, and playing Ms. Pac-Man while Ronald Reagan constantly addresses America. There's nothing in the actual style, the cinematic style, of Let Me In that feels like the 80s, an idea that could have worked for a schlocky vampire film, but Reeves desperately wants his film to be legitimate, despite setting it in the 80s for the cool factor.

The big problem I have with this film, which is the same problem I had with the original, is that there are too many subplots to maintain. The film is essentially about a twelve year-old boy who is bullied in school falling in love with a vicious twelve year-old-looking vampire girl. But there is a sizable portion of the film devoted to her caretaker, who goes around draining the blood from people for her to consume, which causes an absurdly half-assed police investigation by a detective unworthy for even a campy film. Who hasn't seen enough movies to know that you should watch for the peephole to darken when knocking on a suspect's door before giving up? The real issue is that these subplots add nothing at all to the film, other than forty-five minutes, and essentially end up cancelling each other out.

All that aside, I will say that the film looks pretty good. It's full of snowy nights and neon lights, which are captured brilliantly by Reeve's cinematographer, Greig Fraser. Also contributing some of Reeve's desired legitimacy is Chloe Grace-Moretz, who already wowed us this year as Hit Girl in Kick-Ass, and wows again in a much more subdued performance. She's about the only thing worth watching in this film, which is high praise for a movie co-starring the under-appreciated Richard Jenkins and Elias Koteas, or maybe it's just low praise for Matt Reeves for making Jenkins wear a bag over his head as he limps around, mumbling his nine lines, and putting Koteas in an equally thankless role. Yeah, let's call it low praise for Reeves... all around.

Life During Wartime - *

Life During Wartime may have many of the ingredients of a Todd Solondz film: loneliness, pedophilia, social misfits, confused children, but it's missing the most important part, which is the spark that makes it all hilarious and poignant at the same time. A brilliant opening scene aside, Life During Wartime is missing the awkward tension that is too painful not to laugh at. Instead it plays out a little more straight, feeling more like a misguided drama than anything else. And finding out that this was a pseudo-sequel to Solondz' Happiness doesn't really help. I'm not sure why we needed to revisit these characters, or why the choice was made to cast different actors in the roles. It doesn't work. Life During Wartime feels less like a continuation of that film than a tired rehash of it. It just came off as a series of boring scenes with vulgarity for the sake of vulgarity, and by the end I was left feeling not like I didn't get it, but like there was just nothing there to get.

The Last Airbender - *

The Last Airbender is terrible on just about every level a film can be. It fails to achieve everything that it sets out to do. It's an eye-sore in every visual respect, from the drab cinematography to the ubiquitously atrocious special effects. The story is as silly as it can be, and what little narrative you can draw from its mess of pseudo Eastern religious cliches and unexplained mystical power structure, to the "Avatar" itself, begs to be laughed at. What's worse is these things are presented as if the audience should know how to put them in a logical order (something Mr. Shyamalan used to know how to do himself), let alone find them entertaining.

Airbender also acts as yet another example of a truly failed adaptation. Not every medium translates well to another. The film is adapted from an Americanized anime cartoon on Nickelodeon, where you can get away with a lot of the things Shyamalan tries to pull off in a live-action film. Crazy animals work just fine in a cartoon, where they fit in to the visual landscape and animation style, but when you have a CGI turtle-seal in a real-world Arctic setting, it just looks like garbage. Even something as simple as a haircut is made to look embarrassing for anyone involved in its creation. Or when an Element Bender is about to use his powers, he goes through a strange, way overlong ritualistic kung-fu dance before some of the horrid CGI effects escape his hands. It's pretty astonishing. The question that most often comes to mind while watching the film is, "Am I really supposed to be taking this seriously?" Unfortunately I'm not sure what the answer is. One thing is clear: Shyamalan thinks it's a masterpiece... It's not.

I really should hate The Last Airbender. I should. But I don't. I appreciate it in the same way I do films like The Neverending Story. There's something endearing about misfired children's fantasy films. Pure imagination stifled by the inability to capture it on film is a beautiful thing. Or a hideous thing. Whichever it is, it's kind of fun to watch. And trust me, that's not giving any credit to M. Night Shyamalan.

Salt - *

Who is Salt? I won't tell you because I don't want to ruin the surprise you'll feel when the film ruins the surprise itself after about a half hour. It's one of those films where you can guess the trajectory of its twists because you've seen any other political thriller released in the last eighty-seven years. Yup, Salt peaks at about the twenty-five minute mark, and steadily goes downhill from there, all the way to the incoherent multi-predictable-twist ending. It starts out fine enough, even if it's a little bit slow. There is some decent set-up, and a fairly impressive chase sequence that ends with Salt jumping between tractor-trailers on the freeway. But after that it settles into a series of uninteresting flashbacks and half-assed political double agent subplots which feel like the cinematic equivalent of somebody mumbling through the seven day forecast. Snooze.

Vincere - *

It's a true story, so that means I'm supposed to care, and it's in a foreign language, so that means I'm supposed to think it's great. Unfortunately it's boringly pretentious and doesn't make any sense. Vincere tells the story of Mussolini's Mistress, mother to his first son. Why that story matters at all I'm not sure; I didn't have a guess before seeing the film, and after seeing it I'm not even sure there's enough here to call it a story in the first place. It's as if someone took a really complex film and removed every other scene. Needless to say, what's left makes no sense whatsoever, and isn't interesting or entertaining in the slightest, which makes it something of a chore to watch. It consists of a bunch of scenes of Mussolini's Mistress crying in different places until the midpoint, when all of her crying is done in an insane-asylum. I'm not sure if it was supposed to be a portrait of dick-headed men who deny the truth or irrational women who can't take a hint, but what's on screen is a woman condemning herself to an awful life trying to get one of the most powerful men in the world to own up to an illegitimate son, as if that wold ever work out. Unfortunately the audience gets the hint a lot earlier than she does, so Vincere ends up feeling like a week in solitary confinement.

Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time - *

There is a scene early on in Prince of Persia in which Jake Gyllenhaal's character, Dastan, pushes the button on the magical dagger and we see the previous minute reverse and the scene play back until the inevitable moment when Jake Gyllenhaal's character, Dastan, pushes the button on the magical dagger and we see the previous minute reverse and the scene play back again, the only difference being that the magical sand that fuels the magical dagger has run out and so instead of pushing the button, Jake Gyllenhaal's character, Dastan, explains that when he pushes the button on the magical dagger, he goes back in time one minute and nobody else notices. For a movie that takes such pains to explain exactly what we're watching, it is surprising how idiotic these explanations end up sounding and mind-boggling that they could make absolutely no sense whatsoever.

No amount of bad CGI can cover up awful dialogue, a nonsensical plot, and poor direction, but that certainly doesn't stop Prince of Persia from trying to do just that. The film is caked in bad effects that can never make me believe that they had more than one set to use. Instead it looks as if all of the action was filmed using the same room, but edited quickly and close up to try to hide it. And when there is a focus on dialogue, it hints at a confused political message, with the whole thing being triggered by the search for non-existent WMD's and more than one reference to the tax burden falling on the small business owner mixed in with an ancient-NASCAR race and political corruption. What does all of this mean? Nothing. What's entertaining about it? Nothing.

The Joneses - *

The Joneses has an intriguing premise: a group of salesmen move into a neighborhood and pose as a perfect family in order to sell the American Dream, which in this case is a bunch of unnecessary and expensive products that companies pay them to endorse. Unfortunately the film is exactly what it is against: a glamorization of consumerism. Like the McDonald's documentary Super Size Me, this film only serves to make its target that much more alluring (I got a Big Mac immediately after seeing Super Size Me). Who wouldn't want a nicer car, or flat-screen televisions in every room, or microwavable pizza rolls that won't make you fat?

Not making the statement it was trying to make would have been okay with me, but in addition to that it is also not exciting or even entertaining in any way, despite the fact that it stars David Duchovny and Gary Cole. For a while Duchovny's presence fooled me into thinking that I liked it, because there are a couple of times when it almost turns into an episode of Californication, but when a half hour went by and he hadn't gotten drunk and slept with a hooker, I realized I was just watching a boring film. Not only does the film not achieve the lofty goal of its premise, but the premise itself detaches the viewer from the reality of anything that is happening on the screen. It's hard to care about characters that have everything, and I'm not even sure if we're supposed to care about them. And when the time comes late in the film for them to make tough decisions, it's hard to distinguish between their emotions and their greed; I wasn't sure if they actually felt affection for anyone, or if they were just trying to make a sale.

In the beginning the film is exactly what it hates: a glorification of American insatiability and in the end it is exactly what I hate: an exercise in unearned heavy-handedness. In the third act Gary Cole, who plays the neighbor, commits suicide by tying himself to one of the many expensive toys that he had been buying throughout the film, a lawnmower with a television fixed above the steering wheel that he couldn't afford, and driving it into a pool. You see, he was drowning in debt, and so he literally drown himself... using the very cause of his debt! Brilliant. This device of making the audience get on-board with something in the beginning, in this case cool products, and then using that something to indict the audience in the end has worked before (watch Lord of War), but after this film instead of feeling guilty, I just pulled out my phone and looked at the BestBuy ad to see if they had any flat-screens on sale.

Alice in Wonderland - *

I'm not a fan of Tim Burton. I think he tries way too hard anymore to be "weird". I think that his "weirdness" isn't that "weird" and his films often bore me to tears. That said, he also directed one of my favorite films of all-time, Pee-Wee's Big Adventure. In that last decade or so, though, his work has become stale. The same old tricks just don't work anymore. And it seems that ever since his 1999 film Sleepy Hollow he's been obsessed with using computers to achieve the look of his films. How ironic is it that this is when the quality of his films began to deteriorate?

For some reason, this isn't really the true Alice in Wonderland story. It's a sequel to nothing, essentially, as Alice has been "down the rabbithole" already. I don't really get why that was necessary, but, then again, I don't really get why the movie itself was necessary, either. After so many retellings of this story, don't we get it by now? Was the point of this movie really to improve upon the story or was it just an excuse to put Johnny Depp in the ugliest makeup I've ever seen? Did he really need to look like that? If you've seen a poster for this film, you only get an idea of how ugly he really looks, because the people in marketing scaled back the computer-generated bulging of his eyes and creepy smile that he dons throughout most of the movie. It's hideous, as is most of the movie.

I should note that the scenes which take place in the "real world" are well-shot and, for the most part, gorgeous. I can honestly say that it's some of the best cinematography in a Tim Burton film in ages and, I'll go out on a limb on this one, some of the best-looking period piece material I've seen in a few years. It is once Alice makes her descent that the film starts to look like neon diarrhea and never looks back.

Like I said, Tim Burton just tries too hard to be weird. And for what? This is a story that is already weird, and in an insurmountably greater way. His revisioning just wasn't necessary in this case, the same way it wasn't necessary when he "revisioned" Roald Dahl's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory or Planet of the Apes.

By the way, the Red Queen, with the giant forehead and putrid makeup? That's Helena Bonham Carter, who just so happens to be Tim Burton's wife. Who on Earth would do that to their loved one? Then again, I think Johnny Depp is his best friend or something, so, who knows? Maybe Tim Burton's way of saying "I love you" is to make you the ugliest thing imaginable.

Diary of a Wimpy Kid - *

When did children's films stop having any element of reality in them at all? When did they altogether give up on trying to challenge kids or teach them something about life and give in to this hokey, hyper-polished Hollywood universe? I'm not sure when it was, but curse that day.

Diary of a Wimpy Kid features every awkward moment that never happened to anybody, but for some reason end up in every single movie or television show about junior high. Where did the idea for a circle of kids chanting "Fight! Fight! Fight!" come from? How about the one where the kid goes to a new school where there is a rigid social hierarchy that is so hard to break into that he has to sit on the floor at lunch next to the trash cans so asshole kids can miss the can and their uneaten food can land comically on New Kid's head? And who designed the cafeteria that doesn't have enough chairs for all of the students? What a dickhead. The most surprising thing about this film is that New Kid never shows up to school with no pants on, though that may be because there are already one-too-many shots of kids sitting on toilets with their pants down. It's weird, though it is the only thing in the film that actually happens in junior high.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief - *

Uh-oh. Somebody stole Zeus' lightning bolt, the most powerful weapon in the universe, and he thinks it's Poseidon's son, Percy Jackson. Thus we have all of the elements that comprise the clumsy, franchise-fishing title, Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief, and I hope that franchise never bites.

It seems like a joke that Chris Columbus directed this film, because it feels like a cheap rip-off of the Harry Potter films, whose first two installments were directed by Columbus. But then again, maybe it is a joke. Columbus has proven to be a capable director in the past, with films like Home Alone and Mrs. Doubtfire, and this latest "effort" uses the same structure: a wacky situation is established in the first fifteen minutes, gags follow. Only with this film, he neglects any kind of character development or dramatic depth, and the action is so far from interesting or entertaining that it making fun of it almost becomes boring after a while. Almost.

There are too many stupid, ridiculous details and plot points to mention, like when the kids go to a casino to get a magic pearl that will let them of the Underworld and get high on Lotus Flowers in a weird rap-video-like montage in which Percy's sidekick, who is half goat, has his hooves painted by beautiful women. A large portion of the rest of the film involves big-name actors taking turns embarrassing themselves in cameo roles as gods along the journey, with bizarre make-up, costumes and accents, like Pierce Brosnan, who begins the film as a teacher in a wheelchair, but later he reveals his lower-half to be that of a horse. But Uma Thurman wins first prize as Medusa, sporting CGI snake-hair and sun-glasses on a decapitated head the kids carry around for most of the film. She even beats Anthony Hopkins' bald, flaming, evil-eyed Wolfman head for worst decapitated head of the February 12th weekend (I wish there had been some competition from Valentine's Day, a film that really needed to decapitate some of its characters). Despite being about gods and quests, the film's only genuine hero is Rosario Dawson's cleavage, because for three and a half minutes it is actually worth it to look at the screen.

Valentine's Day - *

There are too many characters to keep track of in this year's Valentine's Day ensemble romantic comedy, appropriately titled Valentine's Day, and it seems that their only function is to be played half-assedly by a recognizable actor. Or that's how it feels anyway. Taking place over the course of one day, the screenplay weaves the lives of all twenty-two (thousand) characters in and out of each other's paths until they all intersect in some way: the gay football player's agent is in love with the newscaster who interviews the flower guy whose best friend is in love with a married guy who earlier bought flowers from the flower guy... and it grows tiresome pretty quickly. Director Garry Marshall uses all of this to his advantage, capturing the true essence of Valentine's Day, a day devoid of any genuine romance or charm. The film feels like a product from start to finish, resembling a cheap line in a greeting card more than an actual expression of endearment. The only authentic moment in the entire thing is when Jessica Biel calls for more chocolate, and Jamie Foxx yells out, "I'm the chocolate!"

The Wolfman - *

Haha. Academy Award winner Benicio Del-Toro stars in the absurdly awful new update of the classic monster movie, The Wolfman. And wow is it bad. Rarely can you tell how awful a film is going to be from the first frame, but The Wolfman achieves it, and it's perhaps the highest achievement of the film. What is the first frame? It's the prologue, etched on a headstone with awfully fake-looking blood pouring over the words, "Even the purest of hearts can be changed by the bite of I'm bored already" to the tune of a soulless, already defeated Danny Elfman score (what the hell happened to that guy?).

The story is absolute nonsense, despite being written by Seven screenwriter Andrew Kevin Walker, but I'm going to describe it anyway, because it's hilarious. Del-Toro comes to town as an investigator trying to find out what happened to his brother, who was mysteriously and brutally murdered. A wolf man did it, and on the next full moon he gets the bite himself, and even his pure heart is changed by it. The townsfolk start to suspect he is the wolf man, and next full moon he starts noticing some changes and consults dad about it, played by Sir Anthony Hopkins, who at this point is just shitting all over his name by choosing movies like this. Dad locks him up and tells him that they are both wolfmen, and he leaves to go terrorize the town, so that he can frame Del-Toro, quit the biz and live it up undetected. The next morning Del Toro is found outside in tattered clothes, and is sent to a hospital. The rest is just build-up to the final showdown between the two of them.

It is possible that this screenplay could have been made into a fun midnight movie, if it had been told with a wink to the audience. But instead it is handled with the utmost gravity, as though it is possible to take something like this seriously. There is also a subplot involving the dead brother's fiance that never registers as even mildly interesting.

If you are unfortunate enough to see this film, your viewing experience will invariably devolve into counting how many times the camera pans up to reveal a full moon, or how many close-ups of someone's eye there are when a man is changing into a wolf man, or how many CGI animals there are and why there are so many in a film which legendary effects designer Rick Baker worked on (if you haven't seen Videodrome you should find a dunce cap that fits you). Or you might just wonder how many people are there in this small town in the 19th century that has been ravaged by a wolf man for so many years, killing a dozen people every full moon. As for me, I found myself wondering whether or not a better film could be made about a wolf who is bitten by a man, and how that would affect his status in the wolf community. Would the Manwolf grow opposable thumbs on full moons and try to domesticate them? There's a great film in there somewhere.

Luckily I had a private screening of this film with my brother and a friend and a large pizza, otherwise it would have been a miserable two hours (yes, this drivel is two hours long). We went in thinking it might be any good, but by minute number two we gave each other permission to shout out derisory remarks. Honestly, there is nothing good about this film. Except for the pizza.

Edge of Darkness - *

In theory Edge of Darkness sounds great: Mel Gibson in a gritty revenge-thriller directed by Martin Campbell, the guy that did Casino Royale! In practice, in short, it's a piece of shit. It's the type of film that makes your iPhone bill well worth the money. There's relatively no action, awful performances, and boring dialogue that only serves to set up underwhelming payoffs. I can't think of a movie in which it feels like actors are straining so hard to have an accent... and failing at it. Even London born Ray Winstone seems like he's trying to sound British, and menacing, and he goes oh-for-two. The political/corporate conspiracy plot is incoherent, but that doesn't matter, because even as you check amazon.com's price for the Lethal Weapon Blu-ray, you'll still be able to sort it out, because you've seen it a hundred times. Aside from a few decent line deliveries from Danny Huston, there's nothing, at all, to see here.

The Book of Eli - *

A drifter blows into town and causes all sorts of havoc in The Book of Eli. It's a pretty old story and has been given much better treatment from many better films in the past, but Eli twists it, making it an apocalyptic western with religious themes. Eli is a man of faith who has been walking around with a machete for fifteen years looking for something God told him he would find but when his iPod battery runs out, he needs to go into town to get it charged and starts some shit with the locals. Mayhem ensues.

The film opens pretty well, although perhaps my judgement was clouded by my love for directors the Hughes Brothers, who are responsible for Menace II Society and the criminally underrated Dead Presidents. Whether it was ever actually good or not doesn't really matter, because by the thirty minute mark, the bleached-out color tone has already blanked out your desire to care about what is happening. After a while you resign yourself to only noting silly details, like when Eli visits an elderly couple and realizes while sitting on their couch that they are cannibals who wish to eat him, just before their house gets shot up by Gary Oldman and his gang, who are trying to get ahold of Eli's Bible (the last one in existence, we're told) so he can use it to control people. Why he needs the Bible is never really clear, because he already rules the town. The silliest twist comes at the end, though, and it is almost worth spoiling, but I won't do it. Despite all of this, I will say that Gary Oldman is pretty excellent at times, and Denzel Washington is Denzel Washington, but they were both upstaged in what is the most memorable part of the film: a bartender asks Eli if he wants a glass of water, and some thirsty dickhead in the audience shouts, "Yeah."

Leap Year - *

What this film wants to be: cute, fun, lovable, friendly, harmless, funny, romantic, amusing, enjoyable, beautiful, witty, enjoyable, diverting, etc.

What this film is: insufferable.