The Informant! [short reviews]

The Informant! is an infuriating movie, both to its credit and its detriment. The story of Mark Whitacre’s role as FBI mole in the price-fixing scandal of agricultural giant ADM documents the bizarre, tragic and hilarious story of Whitacre’s severely misguided attempts at trying to have it all, a man so deranged to think that self-preservation and doing the right thing was possible while also deceiving everyone around him. Every twist and turn is played for laughs and head-smacking frustration, which leaks over to the viewer. There are times when you will shake your head with a sort of gleeful misery at watching this investigation crumble at the hands of this buffoon. But as the movie ends, a part of you will wonder why Soderbergh made this movie the way he did, almost devoid of emotion and strangely effervescent in its pace and tone. The Informant! is the rare story based on real events where you wish there was simply less movie, and more facts to hang your hat on. It’s riveting, and also disappointing. Maybe that’s the point, but it’s an uneven effort when viewed as a whole.

Humpday [movies]

How do you describe Lynn Shelton’s Humpday? A mumblecore dramatic comedy about two best friends deciding to make an amateur porn movie where they have sex with each other addresses so much with so little in a light, breezy and effortless way. Supported by the improvisational, naturalistic style of Mark Duplass and Joshua Leonard, Shelton’s film exists in a quasi-mockumentary style, leaving the the dialogue and the conceptual meta-critical idea to speak for themselves. What results is a movie that touches upon subjects ranging from the male ego, marriage, sexuality, growing old, and eroticism in film, all substantively and with a genuine, touching sentiment that gives you plenty to think about long after the seemingly simple film has finished.

The concept of Ben and Andrew’s porn movie is so absurdist and bizarre, that the movie teeters on the edge of being a suspense thriller, waiting for the big kill that you know is coming to occur. It’s a big event, and everything leading up to their meeting in the hotel room is played with a delicious awkwardness and anxiety, as the discussion on whether the idea of two straight men having sex for art is at all a palatable one becomes a metaphor for the two archetypes of male accomplishment: one, being the domesticated, secure husband who diligently works on building his family; and the other, being the traveling artist who remains unanchored in his day-to-day existence. Both represent a valued form of manhood, both exist in opposition to the other, which is why the idea of having both of them….well, FUCK is so genius. The hyper competitive spirit of Ben and Andrew’s friendship leads to a game of sexual chicken, as they both barrel towards an act that essentially would emasculate the traditional concept of manhood in both of their lives.

On another level, Shelton’s screenplay describes the eternal, and traditionally male concept of growing old, of becoming obsolete, holding on to the idea that youth and brashness somehow equals worth. Their efforts to do something edgy, artistic, revolutionary in the name of erotic art is both sad and understandable. As the layers are peeled back, we see two men both less severe versions of the people they push outwards towards the world. And that realization is scary to them, as it brings with it a certain resignation to the idea that the answer to life may simply be to fade into oblivion like everyone else.

Mixed with the casual way this movie tosses around nudity and sexuality, it’s a beautiful commentary on sexuality and eroticism, told in the most casual way using the mumblecore style. Instead of grandiose speeches and intricate conversation, we see regular people working out big ideas in regular ways. And the result is both illuminating and masterfully minimal. When Humpday ends, in the most subdued and beautiful of ways, you can’t help but smile, as you look back on the events just as Andrew and Ben will one day: when they were younger, dumber, and much more foolish. Like the men they’ll eventually become, you’re wiser for it all.

A Serious Man [movies]

When you take a step back and view the Coen Brothers’ new movie, A Serious Man, from a long lens, it’s a fairly standard spiritualism debate: is there a God up there making all of this happen? Or is it just plain bad luck? When you focus in on Larry Gopnik’s life, it becomes an absurdist display of Jewish guilt, crafted with the simultaneous care and masochistic streak that the Coens often show their characters in many of their movies. It’s a beautiful, heartbreaking movie that’s almost too funny to take seriously, as the trials of the Job-like Gopnik continue to unravel, exponentially driving Larry’s life further into the dirt. And while everyone tells him to “go to the Rabbi,” the poignant assertion that Larry makes at one point in the movie rings ever clear: “Why does He give us the questions, if He doesn’t give us the answers?”

In one fell stroke, the Coens make a fairly convincing case for both the meaningless of life, as well as the proof that there is a necessity, and even the very existence of a higher power. Larry’s opening lecture talking about the phenomenon of Schrodinger’s Cat, describes the very basis for the movie’s purpose: the cat inside the box may be alive, and it may be dead; and really, there’s no way we can know it until we open the box and see for ourselves. And until we open the box, the cat is neither. The same with the presence of Hashem in Larry’s life; he’s either carefully plotting the tragedies in Larry’s life to teach him a lesson, some sort of lesson about Larry’s need for answers in a world where what the questions reveal to us are the true importance of life; or he’s simply not there, a construct of the web of futility that has built itself up around Larry, somehow making him both the anchor and outlet of all the misery and suffering that others expel unto him, when all he wants to do is live the simple life that he has carved out for himself. Even Larry himself says to a student in the beginning: the story itself is meaningless, it’s the math that makes it work.

The math that makes this movie work is not so much the way the Coens shoot this movie (surely, they’ve had better looking, less obviously shot movies), but in the way they set up the elements to play off each other. The casting of Michael Stuhlbarg as Larry, the unflinching depiction of religiosity and Judaism, the Minnesotan summer that further muddles up the picturesque fishbowl of madness. Everything bounces off the other in such an electric, masterful way, you’re almost tempted to say this is elite Coens Brothers fare. And with multiple views, perhaps it will be, though the subject matter will undoubtedly keep many at bay.

It’s important to note at this time that I have almost no history with the Jewish faith. I grew up in the heart of Southern Baptist country, and never had any close Jewish friends until very late in my life, long after the curiosity of religion had done away with my need for questions and answers. And not knowing the exact accuracy of the Jewish faith, it felt genuine, while still being a major stylistic element of the film’s overall aesthetic in a way that I’d imagine would both captivate and entertain even those with a heavy familiarity with the tenets of the faith. What makes it so fascinating is the way that mythology and practicality are used, not only in the fables told by the rabbis, but also the conceptual way that religion is used as a character in the movie. We’re never explicitly told that Larry is devoutly religious or not. He takes his son’s bar mitzvah seriously, he seeks the ear of his rabbi, he seeks to do good unto others at every turn. And yet, his interactions with others and his tie to science show the pragmatic doubt in his mind that any of this should make any sense; but not out of a straight disbelief that Hashem is simply not there, rather to believe that God treats His own as He treats Larry would be enough to simply turn anyone off of religion altogether.

As the film comes to its third act, Larry lectures on the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle: the physics theory that pairs of physical properties cannot be measured to precision, as the refining of one causes the muddling of the other. The film is a case study of this concept, as everything in Larry’s life seems to be connected, as one bad thing leads to a good thing, which in turn leads to a bad thing, which leads to an even worse thing. The film doesn’t try to frame it like it makes any kind of sense; and therein lies the simple genius of the movie. It’s a movie about random meaninglessness, and never at once does it seem scattered, or even non-linear. It tells a story in a narrative structure, that makes sense and doesn’t all at the same time, as the viewer has no choice but to give in and simply feel bad for Larry Gopnik. The few good moments he lives are like gulps of water after being stranded in a desert, dying of thirst. And just as you think that Job is rewarded for the trials he’s endured, the Coens again remind you that, to borrow a phrase from another movie entirely, there indeed is no goddamn spoon.

Or is there? And it’s the existence of that simple question that makes A Serious Man so phenomenal.

Sherlock Holmes [short reviews]

As a moderately big fan of Guy Ritchie (I loved RocknRolla), I can see why some purists or viewers just generally tired of the kinetic frenzy that accompanies his movies would say Sherlock Holmes is not their cup of tea. And as someone who has no real attachment to the original Holmes franchise, I can’t say that I’m judging this movie with an eye of an educated believer in the power of Holmes, Watson, Blackwood, Adler, and Moriarty as characters. The movie uses Ritche’s style to gloss over the truer, more patient elements of a true mystery, infusing the story with big action setpieces and faux-complex situations for our heroes to get out of; and for those looking for a somber, subdued and sophisticated approach to a Holmes mystery will probably be left wanting. But I loved nearly every second of this darkly funny and wry mystery-on-steroids, no matter how much it amounted to an excuse to watch Downey and Law ham it up with their foppish dandy personalities and general grandstanding on a true cinematic scale. In Guy Ritchie’s hands, Holmes is a shit talkin’, bare knuckled brawling bad ass. And while it may not be accurate, who cares. It’s a blast.

Big Fan [short reviews]

Rob Siegel’s exploration of sports fan trauma as it relates to the tragedy of life is more about, if you’ll excuse a moderately sexist sounding description, being a man in a world of boys. Football is Paul’s career, passion, spirit and soul; and when his hero savagely beats him after a misunderstanding at a bar, he’s faced with the existential crisis of self-preservation against the success of the team; and inevitably chooses the life that makes him happier, meaning the one that’s not real. Big Fan is a downer, no doubt, but is filled with a certain modest hope, and ends on just about the perfect note, with successes and failures over the past two hours forgotten about just like last week’s game.

Brothers [Prestige-a-rama 2009]

David Benioff writes with a certain style that speaks to me, in a way that I can’t quite put my finger on. The themes he writes about are broad and general. The characters he creates are less fully realized people as they are pillars set against each other, each holding a part of the story up for the grand structure of a movie that strives to make a small, meaningful impact rather than reach higher for a more impressive emotional register. Brothers is that kind of a movie, a story about a soldier whose family learns to live without him, only to have him return home a broken man, as all learn to accept each other in the simplest of complex circumstances. That’s really the only oxymoronic way to describe it: at its core, Brothers is simple, so barren of any ideas or extraneous emotion that you can’t help but wonder if it can pull it off; and in the end, it does, with only the one central emotion and theme, and the performances of three outstanding actors. Make no mistake, for every moment you could possibly criticize Brothers for being “only” a movie about so few things, it is a moving, emotionally grandiose and beautiful drama that should quite simply not be missed.

The story focuses on Sam and Tommy, brothers who took very different paths in life. Sam is the straight-laced marine with a family, married to Grace with two daughters. Tommy is just emerging from a prison sentence, never having amounted to anything in his life. When Sam leaves for a tour of duty in Afghanistan, everything is right in the world; until Sam crashes in the desert and is taken hostage by a group of insurgents, as Sam’s family back home deal with the loss of a husband, a brother, and a father. Tommy and Grace’s natural quasi-romance progresses, only to have Sam show up, suffering from severe post-traumatic stress disorder, and unable to dismiss the nagging thoughts that his brother and his wife had slept together while he was away.

The most amazing thing about Brothers is Jim Sheridan’s ability to tell the story, hell even tell the emotions that Sam is feeling without once allowing Sam to be the one to show it until the climax of the movie. Instead, Sheridan’s focus on the kids, on the parents, on the other families around him slowly amount to the full picture of Sam’s suffering, all the while weaving in and out of the tension developing between Tommy and Grace. It’s an incredible feat that presents the complexity of the emotional turmoil, without once having to lay it out for you in any way. When Sam returns, just as Tommy was starting to realize how much he enjoyed being the central male figure in Grace’s life, he has a look on his face that doesn’t merely show jealousy, or guilt, it’s a complex mix of relief and self-hatred that rings true. When Sam’s father reaches out to him by recounting a story about his post-Nam trauma, it’s a small, almost non-existent moment that is so much bigger than the story up to that point would have you believe. There are small, beautiful moments that are bathed in a reality that, amidst the melodrama (and I say that in a non-pejorative way), create this product of intensely powerful relatability to a side of the war that many rarely see.

In the end, this is very much Sam’s story, and it resolves itself in a predictable manner. But the moving ending between Tobey Maguire and Natalie Portman is so cathartic and powerful because we are invested in Sam’s story, we are invested in his healing, and his admissions and rehabilitation are now our struggle as well. The world that Sheridan and Benioff create is so immersive in the simplest of ways, you can only hope that his path leads to recovery, for the sake of Grace, for the sake of his kids, and for the sake of his brother. The performances are so good, you wish you could be there to see it happen.

Up in the Air [Prestige-a-rama 2009]

Note: Minor spoilers…sorta.

Jason Reitman’s Up in the Air is a moving, powerful document of human connection and pain, of self-meaning and self-worth, and a topical reminder of our fragile economic and emotional times. And yet, it’s a fairly pedestrian “movie,” which goes further to Reitman’s ongoing oeuvre of making great good films, but failing to reach the pedestal of great American filmmaking that so many desperately want him to achieve.

The story of Ryan Bingham, a career-transitions specialist (read: he fires people for a living) as he travels from city to city is based on Walter Kirn’s 2001 book of the same title, but altered to focus more on the job-loss portion of the movie, which Reitman attests to an organic evolution as the film took shape, taking into account the fledgling US economy. It’s ironic that that shift alone makes the movie both infinitely more powerful, and yet carves out a significant portion of Kirn’s examination of Ryan’s ambitions as a motivational speaker, and his self-philosophies on life, eschewing the broader, more universal themes that the book addresses for more bite-size kernels of pop philosophy, easily digested amidst the overall love story that Reitman chooses to make the core of the movie.

And while there’s definitely a delightful chemistry between Clooney and Vera Farmiga’s courtship, it’s starkly rote movie rom-com fare, as two people who ascribe to the same life philosophy find solace in each other where they couldn’t find it elsewhere. Which is why it’s such a shame, seeing as the generality of their romance, the relatability beneath their otherwise arm’s-length lives becomes a burden on the eventual fate of the two characters: in the end, there is no star-crossed moment, just as there is no gut punch of a revelation, as much as the movie tries to manufacture one. We see two people who enjoy each other’s company, only to see their expectations of each other fall into what they may not have, but what we, the audience, probably expected: they are not meant to be, and Ryan is meant to be alone, for the same reasons that so many other stories have told us.

Had the film chosen to focus more on Ryan’s job, as well as the presence of the young, newbie character played by Anna Kendrick (who is without a doubt, the best part of the movie), it might have made sense to intercut the scenes with real-life testimonials of people who had lost their jobs; and as a result, may have given the ending testimonials more of an impact, that there was some progression that we could have latched on to to arrive at the same place as the conventional wisdom of the people whose real lives have been affected. Instead, the movie feels episodic, disjointed, and less than the sum of its parts.

I don’t want to sound like I disliked Up in the Air. It was a fantastic, well-made, moving movie. But it just wasn’t special, for everything it had and tried to say. The message is left on the table for you to take it as you will. And in the end, you don’t get a feeling that any of the character’s lives have changed beyond what normal life brings to everyone. In a way, that’s what the movie strives for, but it manages to distance itself enough from the everyman experience that keeps you from fully buying into its own philosophy. And regardless of Reitman’s faults, he is capable of making incredible moments in his movies that hit you harder than you could have expected, leaving you moved, open, vulnerable, ready to take the next step with him. If only there was a follow-up moment to close the deal (in all of his movies, in fact); instead, it seems we expect too much, and receive just a shade too little from his style to be fully satisfied with the work, even if the experience was satisfying as a whole.

The Year in Movies: 2009

What a weird year it’s been for movies. A strong summer gave way to a pretty mediocre prestige season, leaving everyone’s year end lists all over the place (mine is definitely no exception). And sure, it was a year of Avatar hype/backlash, Transformers ruling the box office, but probably the most remarkable thing about 2009 was the smaller movie surprises (which show up abundantly in my top ten).

I’m posting this before seeing the ultimate 2009 movie, Up in the Air, as I won’t be able to get to a movie theater for the next week or two, so that, along with A Serious Man, Sugar, Crazy Heart, and A Single Man are all absent from this list, and in my opinion, could have made it somewhere on here. Also a quick note, I don’t take into account my summer rankings when making this list.

For the record, I saw 39 theatrical releases in 2009. So here we go:

BEST MOVIES OF 2009:

1. The Hurt Locker
Forget the political drama of the Iraq war. Kathryn Bigelow’s film of bomb-defusing soldiers was more about the drive of men who had a job to do; it just so happened that their job had life or death consequences. Her portrayal of military adrenaline junkies was stylish and thrilling, while maintaining a beautifully real and affecting emotional core. Who could’ve guessed that the best movie about the Iraq war would be the movie that made the war a job, and not a partisan political statement. I walked out of The Hurt Locker in a daze, sure that I had just seen the best movie of the year. And what do you know, the end of the year came and here it is.

2. Inglourious Basterds
Every time I see, nay, THINK about this movie, it gets better in my mind. Saying so much about the power of cinema, the importance of history, and the dire tension of the art of conversation, Tarantino’s WWII fever dream is an admirable grab at moviemaking perfection. The fact that he comes very close is amazing, especially when you divorce the Tarantino tropes that we all expected. He made an objectively grand movie on his own terms.

3. In the Loop
The scathing satire of government bureaucracy is made all the more effective by the whipsmart dialogue and epithet-laden rants of Malcolm Tucker. Armando Ianucci throws a mess at the wall, and it amazingly comes together into the most effective commentary on the futility of politics that I have ever seen. Also, it’s hilarious to the point of your stomach hurting.

4. An Education
A touching coming-of-age story that could have easily fallen into the traps of social messages or gender struggles, instead it focuses on the universality of life experiences, and the simple statement that while we will all make mistakes, it’s how we come out of them that teaches us what it means to be successful. Carey Mulligan is a vision.

5. Star Trek
Ass-kicking summer movie heaven. I have no attachment to the Star Trek franchise, but I ate up every minute of this movie, from the epic visuals to the character interplay to the stunning cast. This movie is everything right about big budget blockbusters.

6. District 9
I went completely blind into this movie, and realized halfway through that I had never seen a movie like District 9 in my life. Half-documentary, half-blazing guns action movie, Blomkamp’s vision of futuristic Africa stays away from politics, and focuses on the experience, and succeeds in nearly every way. Detractors take it too seriously, this is memorable summer popcorn movie magic. Nothing more, nothing less.

7. Up
I’ve described Up as “not the best PIXAR film, but maybe the most emotionally effective.” I stand by it, as I’ll take a handful of other PIXAR movies over this, but I can’t think of a more moving experience I’ve had at the movies this year. When he opens that book up in the second half of the movie, I lost it. In fact, I think something STILL might be in my eye.

8. Moon
Pulpy sci-fi noir that gives Sam Rockwell a chance to show the world that he’s one of the best actors of this generation, it twists and turns just enough to keep you hooked, but thankfully holds back and lets the movie’s simplicity carry the weight, rather than devices or absurd sci-fi pitfalls. Gorgeous, for the meager budget Duncan Jones worked with.

9. Adventureland
Another total shocker, the story of the summer before freshman year of college at an amusement park strives to be meaningful, and succeeds. You won’t believe that Kristin Stewart can be so effective, but her vulnerability and pain (played to ridiculous hyperbole in Twilight) actually make sense in this film, and her and Eisenberg’s chemistry propel the romance to a completely rewarding ending.

10. Drag Me To Hell
Seeing this movie opening weekend in a packed house was the best time I’ve had at the movies this year. Right up to the final frame of the movie, it had me going, as Raimi takes a by-the-book horror thriller and squeezes every bit of gross, jump-scare, insane fun out of it. I saw it again, and still fell for every trick in the book.

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

Precious
Harrowing, haunting, and deeply affecting, the movie’s power lies not in the hope it gives, but the simple fact that people can survive lives like Precious’s. A completely necessary movie, if not for the content, then for the discussion it raised in our public consciousness.

(500) Days of Summer
While not the revolutionary anti-rom-com it wanted to be, the visuals accomplished by Webb, and the leading man rise of Joseph Gordon Levitt were intensely watchable, and in the end, likable no matter how much you tried to resist (hell, I saw this movie three times in the theaters, and thoroughly enjoyed it every time).

Avatar
As if I need to say anything more about this movie, it’s tough to place, because the experience of watching it was so amazing, but the movie itself was really not all there. Everyone should see it, see it in 3-D, IMAX if you can, and you’ll realize that we really are living in the new age of movies.

AWARDS!

Biggest Disappointment:
Where the Wild Things Are – Oh what a wonderful trailer it was. And while many will defend this movie (with totally valid justifications), I found no joy in watching Spike Jonze’s adaptation of the children’s book. I found even less joy in pulling a meaning from my experience. A beautiful mess, and one that I’m not inclined to revisit.

Biggest Surprise:
World’s Greatest Dad – If you told me a Bobcat Goldthwait-directed/written movie starring Robin Williams was moving, innovative, and daring, I would’ve said you’re clearly living in the 90s. Turns out, this movie is hilariously touching, and acerbic in all the right ways. As much as I dislike him, Williams is pretty fantastic in this.

Best (Only) Documentary I Saw This Year:
Food Inc. – See title of this award (but seriously, I did love this movie).

Most Overrated Movie:
I Love You, Man – Look. I actually really enjoy watching I Love You, Man on DVD. It’s an enjoyable movie. But the love for a movie that is basically an excuse to watch Rudd and Segel riff for two hours is a bit out of control. More like I Like You, Man, amirite (god I hate myself).

I Don’t Want To Admit I Loved As Much As I Did:
GI Joe: Rise of Cobra – Ice floats? Okay, you’re right. But nothing will take away the fun I had in watching this completely idiotic, bloated flick, full of kinetic, pointless popcorn fun. When Storm Shadow and Snake Eyes first clash swords, I’m all like “AWWW SHIT!”

Special Award for Craziness:
Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call – In this movie, Cage chokes an elderly woman’s oxygen tube while pulling a gun on her hospice worker. He has sex with a coked out girl as her boyfriend watches, in a parking lot. This movie is so intensely watchable, only because it’s so unapologetically batshit insane. Hell, I liked it a lot.

Fuck You Award:
Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen – Never again. Never. Again.

Duplicity [short reviews]

Tony Gilroy’s Duplicity takes maybe one or two twists too many, in a cluttered plot and weird disjointed delivery that bogs the movie down from the otherwise bouncy character that the two leads, Roberts and Owen, try to give it. In the end, you’ll walk away wondering what the point of it all was. A game of cat and mouse is still a game if there aren’t any stakes, and the simple sake of two secret agents who can’t get enough of the chase just isn’t enough to keep me intrigued. A movie that seemingly does everything right, but still doesn’t bring it together in the right way, I was finding myself more bored than thrilled.

The Invention of Lying [short reviews]

This is more like it. After a failed turn with Ghost Town (at least in my opinion), Ricky Gervais writes, directs, and stars in The Invention of Lying, a quasi-fable about a man who learns to lie in a world where everyone tells the truth. What starts as a broad comedy turns into a moderately poignant commentary on religion, and the things we tell ourselves and each other to get through life when the truth is probably too much to handle. It’s funny, touching, and provoking without ever getting too heavy. A pleasant surprise, and probably much more substantial than the trailers would have you expect.