writhaus

Sometimes the real message behind a film can be quite literal and that message can be different from the message of the film itself.

Jim Munroe wrote the episodic Infest Wisely, also directing one of its seven segments. Most of the vignettes work isolated, but together they form a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts.

The first segment follows a computer hacker so paranoid he doesn’t use the internet. Initially we think the story takes place now, but as this segment progresses, we realize it’s a few years in the future. The episode has two characters and the vibe is incredibly similar to Waking Life, a film I enjoyed greatly. There is a bit of philosophizing over tech, and the groundwork is laid for each successive part, each taking place a bit further in the future.

There’s the security consultant assaulted in a men’s room. A voice over artist takes a strange and amazing bonus for her work. A college professor and his teaching assistant meet someone marketing an amazing new breakthrough. A clinic is shut down when cancer is eradicated, leaving its employees to other persuits. An artist is hired to work security for his friend’s studio. Everything comes to a head in the last segment when an artifact is sought by opposing factions.

This film will definitely appeal to people who, like me, spend way too much time philosophizing over technology. Much like the first Matrix film, it leaves you wanting to see more of the world these people inhabit.

That isn’t to say the film doesn’t have its faults. The literal message conveyed by Infest Wisely is that you, too, can make a film. Munroe worked with a group in Canada to put this film together on a shoestring budget, and it shows. While the movie is shot interestingly, the source material is really rough. Much more rough than high profile DV release 28 Days Later. It isn’t Blair Witch bad, but it can be a bit much at times.

This lack of budget also leaves the ending falling a little flat. I don’t really know if that’s as much of a downside as it could be, though, as it makes the film feel much more lifelike than if there were huge Hollywood-style explosions.

In the end, the pro’s outweigh the con’s by a significant margin. Even better, instead of sitting here being judgemental, I can remake the film if I so desired, as it is a Creative Commons project, allowing some use of itself to the public domain. Best of all, you can watch the film right now, downloading via Bit Torrent from infestwisely.com. That’s right, it’s free and legal. Munroe just wants you to watch and think.

That isn’t too much to ask, I don’t think.

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I have a friend who was incensed when Wash was killed at the end of Serenity (sorry if I just ruined it for anyone, but that movie is kind of old now). He can enjoy more of Alan Tudyk’s acting in the (relatively) recently released film Death at a Funeral. Sadly Tudyk isn’t a lead member of the ensemble, but he steals every scene he is in and helps tie the story together.

These ensemble pictures are sometimes hard to summarize plotwise, and I am afraid that’s the case here. The briefest, spoiler-free runthrough I can give you is that Daniel’s (Matthew MacFadden) father has passed away. There is going to be a funeral. At that funeral will be psychedelic drugs, grumpy old uncles, a blackmailer and a casket that gets opened way too many times. Ewan Bremmer is here (that would be Spud from Trainspotting, as if you didn’t already know) in a small part as well as Rupert Graves as well as the afore mentioned Tudyk, laying on a sly British accent.

Both I and the friend I saw the film with laughed out loud multiple times over the course of the movie. That’s saying a lot from a black comedy that I expected to be wittertainment. The script by Dean Craig and the direction of the masterful Frank Oz really bring this film to life. Oz has definitely soaked up a great deal of Britishness over the years. The proof is right up there on the screen.

I highly recommend Death at a Funeral. It features all the sorts of things you wish movies had more of…crisp dialog, great acting and a special friend in the form of a dwarf. You will laugh and perhaps be moved by the end. How’s that for an (extremely) late summer picture?

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Honey is Jessica Alba as a youth instructor in NYC. She has the hottest dance moves and gets noticed by a music video producer. She becomes the hottest hip hop choreographer and tries to share her success by getting her rec center kids in a video. When she spurs her bosses advances, he fires the kids. She decides to open her own dance studio, and suddenly the movie shifts gears to an all out dance finish. Somewhere along the way, a cute little boy gets braids and his brother goes to juvie.

Honey doesn’t sound that bad, and really, it isn’t. It’s just not good, either. It reminds me of the teen movies pumped out in the 80s. For every Wargames, you had at least a dozen My Chauffeurs. I personally think Honey was designed to run indefinitely on Stars Kidz or whatever they call it now. Jessica Alba definitely looks hot in the film, but other than that, a few cute kids and a Missy Elliot cameo, that’s about all there is to this film.
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Get Rich or Die Tryin’ stars everyone’s favorite hip hop superstar 50 Cent. I was pretty bored as I screened this flick. The acting was passable, and fortunately it wasn’t anywhere near as expoitive as I feared it would be. There are some nice moments in it, but over all, I don’t see it having much staying power.
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Ah, Step Up. It stars Channing Tatum, perhaps one of the most wooden actors I have ever seen, as a kid who hangs with the black kids and gets sentenced to mopping a preppy school when he gets busted one night. At the school, the pretty Jenna Dewan studies ballet. The two meet and infuse classical dancing with energy not seen since Save the Last Dance, a much superior film, and one that this one basically clones.

If Tatum’s performance wasn’t so stilted, it might have had something to it, but as it is, I would suggest not wasting your time. This will be repetitive, but this film is the exact same plot as Save the Last Dance, except with the black/white ratio reversed. If that isn’t insult enough to avoid the film, then let the New Kids on the Block-ish Tatum push it over the edge.

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The first (and only) time I met Liev Schreiber was on the set of CSI. Schreiber was doing a stint on the show to fill a spot left by William Peterson for the run of Dublin Carol in Providence, R.I., at the Trinity Rep Theater. Schreiber struck me as a very serious actor who delved into the each moment with great focus. He was not to be bothered, and he only spoke when he, the director, and other actors were discussing the scene. Other than that, nothing else.

It was this same intensity I though I would find in Schreiber’s Everything Is Illuminated. A story that follows Jonathan, a man seeking reminants of his Jewish heritage after the horrors of World War II, could very easily be a tough, dour story; it is an era that has been often documented on film. Schreiber’s seriousness was there, for sure–the focused narrative, the imaginative inner life of the characters, the methodical structuring of images–but I had not expected a sense of humor. Goofy with engaging characters, the film features a Ukranian grandfather (and chauffeur) who swears he’s blind, his grandson (and English translator) who admires American culture film above all else, grandfather’s “seeing eye bitch” (a dog named Sammy Davis Junior Junior) and Jonathan, an American collector and awkwardy out of place in all of this. If anything, it’s a solid road trip movie, with humorous interludes. In one scene, Jonathan must explain to his tour guides and waitress that yes, he is a vegetarian, no he’s not crazy, and yes, he really did want food without any meat with it. The solid performances from all three men elevate the film substantially. Everything Is Illuminated relies heavily on cultural misunderstandings and sharp dialogue. The Liev Schreiber I saw on set was undoubtedly only one side; had not fully realized how funny he could really be.

Where the film begins, however, is not where it ends. The light-heartedness and humor switches to a dark, profound personal examination for each character. Most of all for the grandfather, the three men reexamine their relationship with their personal past, the past of their family, and history on the larger scale. Roger Ebert wrote of the film, “‘Everything is Illuminated’ is a film that grows in reflection…. I admired the film but did not sufficiently appreciate its arc.” It is a film that has stuck with me more than most and on further reflection, it had a lot more going on under the surface than it seemed originally. It touches on the horrors of the Holocaust, about living in a community, about saving and passing on heritage and sustaining one’s culture. It is thought provoking and pensive while also entertaining.

I’m sure a lot of these themes and considerations are transplanted from the original novel (which I have not read). One night, several of my friends were arguing over the book and one, a jewish history scholar, made the claim that the book is “ahistorical” and said “the shtettle is not an amusement park.” From what best I can piece together is is a a place of origin, a “home” of jewish faith. Now only remembering the words and not the meaning, I can only assume my jewish history scholar friend thought the story trivialized the jewish experience by influsing the road trip with a sense of nostalgia for the past, a past so horrible it still lingers in our super-conscious. I bring this up because while, yes, the film did have a feeling of nostalgia for the past, I believe it was more a seach for truth and understanding of what meaning those events held for those living it and how the past still affects us today. What the story is ultimately trying to convey is how we should keep a hold of the past, learn from the past, and learn to move on.

The dialogue is sharp, the scenes well paced and there are enough parts keeping the story going that it is an enjoyable film. My one major criticism of the film is how the two main stories of the film never added together. This is not to say that every story should tie together arbitrarily narratives that have no reason being tied together. Rather, in this case, the stories of the American’s grandfather and the Ukrainian chauffeur seem connected somehow but it was never clear to what extent. Did the American’s grandfather know the Ukrainian grandfather? Were they together in the same town when the Nazis took over? Do they have some familial connection? If you see or have seen the film, I think you will know what I am talking about. The connections between the two story lines seem present, but never explained satisfactorily.

At the end of this, I cannot quite decide whether or not to give the film a 5 or a 6 out of 7. I resist the 6 because it was off-beat to the extent it wandered a bit, but the 5 doesn’t quite express the quality of filmmaking I found present in the film. And no, there are no half ratings; that’s cheating. Ultimately I believe it deserves a 6 because it is a film one could watch multiple times and get something new from it. I’m curious to see what he would work on next.

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I knew by the conclusion of the first scene of The House of Flying Daggers that it was going to be a boring movie.

The first shot, actually, clued me in. The film begins in the interior of a police station in feudal China introducing us to one of the three central characters. Remember, this is a period piece, set in a psedo-mythical land of epic scope and grandeur. If not in the first shot, certainly in the first scene we need a feeling of expanse and the place where mortals and gods meet. Where do we begin? In the interior of a police station.

Furthermore, the film continues by using a convention popularized by the X-Files, spy versus spy films and the like: a slug line informing the audience of the specific location in which the present action is taking place (often a time is given as well). For example: Los Angeles, 12:43 a.m. It is inconsistent with the style of narrative to include such a specific notation of place. It doesn’t matter where this police station is. Nobody really cares either. Epics often occur at moments of historical significance, like the Arabic Desert in Lawrence of Arabia, but cinematic epics certainly don’t begin in the interior of police houses.

So much about this movie was wrong. The dialogue was simplistic and used simile and metaphor, intended to enhance the mythical elements of the story, badly. Sexual innuendoes were crass. I swear I noticed they reused the same shot for different scenes. The characters rode American thoroughbreds. The story was unbelievable, the love story was worse. And the big battle at the end of the film never happened (what happened to those soldiers?).

However, what was truly contemptible, something I haven’t mentioned yet, was the egregious plagiarism from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is one of my favorite films. Ziyi Zhang plays central characters in both films. Though she displays her physical prowess in both films, she is made to do such ridiculous things in The House of Flying Daggers it isn’t so much of a joy to watch. Moreover, if you played those movies side by side, you would notice a direct similarity in the order of scenes, transition to locations, character development, and conclusion. The stylistic considerations to the film were exceedingly similar as well as the fight sequences, music, and settings–all a cheap cash-in on Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon‘s brilliance. The House of Flying Daggers even has a fight at the tops of bamboo trees! How awful is that!

While the one stellar aspect of the film–its use of color–stands out, The House of Flying Daggers is a poor reproduction of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon hoping to lure the same audience. In my case, it worked.

I was bored by this film, and I have lost two hours of my life that I will never get back. If I save someone from this same fate, then I’ll feel better about seeing the film.

2 out of 7 stamps.

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The Dolphin Hotel in New York City has a room on its 14th floor that only gets cleaned once a month with the door propped open. The time the door wasn’t propped open, the cleaning lady inside stabbed herself in the eyes with forks. When he hears this, John Cusack’s Mike Enslin thinks hotel manager Gerald Olin (Samuel Jackson) is trying to scare him away. Ditto when Mr. Olin hands Enslin a folder detailing all the deaths listed as natural occurrences that have happened in the room. Enslin is insistent on staying in the room, though, and a civil rights-era law requires Mr. Olin to rent the room to him. What happens from there, though, is creepy, eerie, and not just a little bit disturbing. Just how does one do battle with a maniacal room?

In the era of torture porn, it’s quite a treat to have an adaptation from horror master Stephen King make it to the screen. King, at his best, can make you squirm in your chair. He can raise the hairs on the back of your neck. He can scare you. Director Mikael HÃ¥fström has done a great job bringing the chills and scares to bear in this adaptation of King’s short story.

John Cusack is perhaps the only actor to have as high a likability factor for me as Tom Hanks. That likability is a key feature of this film because it’s mostly Cusack’s show. He makes the most of it, too. While not a comedic performance, I haven’t enjoyed him this much since High Fidelity. You feel his agony when he realizes the dangers of room 1408.

The effects and set design are solid and do a nice job of bringing the room and its world to life. I certainly would have enjoyed a little more of the history of the room. Perhaps that will come with sequels or DVD releases, though. Suffice it to say, if you are a horror fan, this is your best bet in quite a while. There are no croaking Japanese ghosts or nubile young women being hanged. We get just what we want: an ample serving of scares from a cast with above-average actors.

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As a kid growing up in rural Mississippi, I always missed out on the cartoons my friends were watching in the afternoons until, thanks to Hurricane Alicia, dad had one of those old school giant satellite dishes installed. During the school year, it didn’t matter as much, but during the summer, I could watch the satellite feeds of shows such as Thundercats, Centurions, G.I. Joe, and Transformers. As a 31-year-old, I admit to having man love for the Transformers. I loved the meanness of Megatron. I loved how loyal everyone was to Optimus Prime. I loved that Jazz had the same voice as Hong Kong Fooey! When they announced a live-action film, I was as excited as anyone else…that is, until Michael Bay signed on to direct.

It isn’t that I hate Michael Bay. It’s that I hate his work. The only movie of his I enjoyed has been The Rock. I watched Armageddon and realized with horror that I will never get those nearly three hours back. I looked at the banality of Pearl Harbor (in trailer form) and vowed never again to see one of his movies.

My love of Robots in Desguise trumped that, though. I mean, let’s face it: As Americans, we don’t have ready access to our people interacting with giant robots. We have to make do with anime. I actually held out until about two weeks ago. At any rate, this afternoon, with a bit of trepidation, I entered the theater.

In the film, the Decepticons want the Allspark, as do the Autobots, who want to stop the Decepticons from using it to wipe out life on Earth as we know it. No one knows where it is, though. Not until Optimus Prime arrives do we learn what young Sam Witwicky (Shia LaBeouf) has to do with finding it. Throw in Megan Fox as a high school student way hotter than any that went to my school, John Tuturro as a government spook and John Voight as Secretary of Defense, and you have a talented-enough band of actors that you wouldn’t lay the blame on them if the movie failed.

I am happy to report that the film works. It’s silly summer fare, so don’t look for the plot holes (why not shoot them with liquid nitrogen?) or you will miss the point. This film is about giant robots beating the shit out of each other. It is a glory to behold. The effects are top notch. The voices aren’t bad, either, leading to one of the things that made me soften my stance: the hiring of Peter Cullen as Prime’s voice. Bay making that decision leads me to believe he actually likes the cartoon. The sound design is outstanding, as you would expect from an action movie director such as Bay.

I still don’t trust Michael Bay. This film was produced by Steven Speilberg, so that might be the reason it’s enjoyable. I have to admit, though, Bay finally did make another movie I enjoyed, a feat I didn’t think possible. Check it out. If you have a love of Transformers, I don’t think you will be disappointed.

Transformers was viewed at the Pacific Paseo 14 in Pasadena, Calif.

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This review is part of writhaus’ coverage of the 1982 Film Fest at the Areo Theater in Santa Monica, Calif.

Stephen King and George Romero sat on King’s porch in Maine. They talked of their love of old EC Comics and decided to make an homage they would call Creepshow.

Romero’s anthology features full-on scares and more tongue-in-cheek horror as it follows the exploits of a college professor (Hal Holbrook) with an overbearing wife (Adrienne Barbeau), a husband (Leslie Nielsen) with murder on the brain for his wife and her lover (Ted Danson), a businessman (E.G. Marshall) with a fear of germs, a country farmboy (Stephen King) with a complete lack of luck, and a Father’s Day family gathering gone awry when a dearly departed family member shows up looking for his cake.

The acting is solid and suiting to the sometimes over-the-top nature of the stories being told. When King exclaims, “Meteor shit!” we know immediately the kind of character he is playing. Barbeau is nails-on-a-blackboard perfect as Holbrook’s terror of a wife. The editing is well-done with a nod to the film’s comic book inspiration. It’s apparent on screen that Romero had a lot of fun, and that sense of fun passes through to the audience as they watch. The effects are done by longtime Romero collaborator Tom Savini and are up to his usual gruesome standards.

The print exhibited by American Cinemateque as part of their 1982 Film Fest was in good shape, although it did bear the marks of time with some dust apparent and the occasional green scratch, but as less of a crown jewel for Warner Brothers, it still looked quite good for its age.

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This review is part of writhaus’ coverage of the 1982 Film Fest at the Areo Theater in Santa Monica, Calif.

1982 was a banner year for genre cinema, seeing the releases of Blade Runner, Star Trek II, and the Steven Speilberg-produced Poltergeist. Released the same weekend as E.T., Poltergeist has earned its niche as a horror masterpiece.

Featuring the direction of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre‘s Tobe Hooper and starring Craig T. Nelson, JoBeth Williams, and Heather O’Rourke, Poltergeist tells the story of the Freelings, a typical family living the American dream in the Los Angeles suburbs. One night, they awaken to what they think is an earthquake and daughter Carol Anne saying creepily, “They’re here…” What follows is still one of the scariest films of the past 30 years.

The entire production is amazing. The acting is spot on. You feel for the Freelings as they go through their haunting. The editing is perfect with nary a wasted scene, everything pushing you toward the dramatic climax. The pacing is ideal, with just the right amount of tension-relieving humor before the next scare arrives. John Williams’ score tingles, creeps, and frightens, perfectly managing the film’s atmosphere.

The print screened as part of American Cinemateque’s 1982 Film Fest was pristine. I can’t imagine it looking better in 1982. Even the effects, which by all accounts should be incredibly dated, stand up to modern scrutiny (with a tip of the hat to Ben Edlund, then of ILM). If the print used to create this fall’s DVD special editions is this good, we are all in for a treat come Halloween!

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This review is part of writhaus’ coverage of the 1982 Film Fest at the Areo Theater in Santa Monica, Calif.

By 1980, Jim Henson was ready to branch out from normal muppets and tell a new kind of story with his creations. This story took the form of a fantasy tale filled with mysticism entitled The Dark Crystal. Henson’s friend Frank Oz directed; his normal crew of muppeteers commanded the creatures.

In a world ruled by the avian Skeksis, their power flows from the Dark Crystal. Their rule is merciless as they pillage the realm for what they need. As their emporer dies, we are introduced to the Mystics, the Skesis’ antithesis. Their master also lies dying. He calls his young charge to his side, and from there the story focuses on the quest of Jen, who is thought to be the last Gelfling. There is a prophecy, and Jen will play a role in it. His quest will change him and his world forever.

The film is one that either works or doesn’t work for you. I am in the former group. The muppet tech involved completely transported me into this world. Everything feels vibrant and alive. The film honestly made me care about what would happen should the Skeksis take complete control. I wanted Jen to succeed in his mission.

One integral part of this film is the haunting and beautiful score by Trevor Jones, one of the earliest to mix symphony and electric elements. The main theme is such that it stays with you long after the film is over.

The print screened for American Cinemateque’s 1982 Film Fest was virtually pristine, although some dust appears, and there was heavy grain during the opening and close. This grain is readily apparent in home versions, but is obviously part of the source, for better or worse.

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