MOVIES NOW AND THEN

I wish I could say I saw all of the movies featured in that trailer. School, alas, prevented me from doing so, but at least I did squeeze some good ones into my schedule. Here, in order of when I saw them, are the movies I watched at the 49th New York Film Festival.

Melancholia – R
Lars von Trier writes and directs this eerie story about the end of two worlds. The first collapse is an intangible one, of a bride (a moving Kirsten Dunst) losing her mind over the course of a disastrous wedding reception. The second and better half shows the bride, her sister (a wonderful Charlotte Gainsbourg) and her brother-in-law (a potent Kiefer Sutherland) witnessing the imminent collision of Earth with the planet Melancholia, brought to life through simple yet entrancing special effects. The uniformly superb cast successfully maintains von Trier’s sad and gloomy tone even in the film’s more jovial moments. From its artful opening montage to its beautifully terrifying final shot, Melancholia works very well as both science fiction and as a personal drama.
This review was originally published by The Fordham Observer.

A Separation – PG-13
When an Iranian couple (Peyman Moadi and Leila Hatami) divorces, the husband hires a woman (Sareh Bayat) to help care for his father (Ali-Asghar Shahbazi), who is stricken with Alzheimer’s. A terrible incident sparks an endless parade of accusations and revelations that turns employee against employer, spouses against spouses and children against parents. Asghar Farhadi’s deeply involving drama withholds many details in this affair to let each viewer debate the facts long after the movie ends. This film is subtly tense, deftly puzzling and tenderly human, creating an impartial mystery in which even characters who do not appear deserving of sympathy earn it.

Miss Bala – R
Gerado Naranjo has fashioned a genuinely exciting action film about a beauty pageant contestant who is forced into the world of Mexican drug trafficking. Every single scene is told from her perspective, which works thanks to Stephanie Sigman’s appealing performance. Naranjo uses long takes throughout the film to build an impressive amount of suspense. One major shortcoming is the escalating sexual advances the gang leader (Miguel Couturier) makes on the girl. These scenes are distracting and somewhat plodding, adding little to her already humiliating situation. The film is much more stirring when it focuses on the girl acting alone as hostage and forced accomplice.

My Week with Marilyn – R
Simon Curtis’s My Week with Marilyn is a biopic whose adoration for its subject, Marilyn Monroe, is so strong it renders the film a little insufferable. Set during the production of The Prince and the Showgirl (1957), it has so many moments that exclaim, “Wow, what a beautiful and tragic star she was” that there are too few introspective scenes. Michelle Williams gives a fine performance as Monroe, but the real treat is Kenneth Branagh’s highly entertaining take on Sir Lawrence Olivier. The actors are good enough to warrant a slight recommendation, but if you want a real tribute to Monroe’s talents, just watch Some Like It Hot (1959) if you haven’t seen it before (or lately).

Goodbye First Love – NR
Mia Hansen-Løve’s story of a young French girl’s loss of her first love and how she moves on with a new one is the only movie I saw this year that I would unreservedly say is bad. It is full of dull, mopey characters whose self-centered demeanors failed to earn any of my sympathy; I suppose it may have been Hansen-Løve’s point to paint a picture of how childish first love can be, but painting a picture so thoroughly sullen does not build solid interest. As I watched the movie, there were times when I would much rather have followed the horses in the background than spend any more energy focusing on the drab humans.

The Descendants – R
In Alexander Payne’s first film since Sideways (2004), George Clooney plays a father who must reconcile with his family after his wife goes comatose in a boating accident. This is Clooney’s best performance since Michael Clayton (2007), mixing frustration and heartbreak with a despairing hope that things will get better. The rest of the movie does not match up, for it fails to integrate drama and comedy into a cohesive whole. While the comedy in Sideways is an extension of the drama, the jokes in The Descendants feel more like bald, inorganic relief from the surrounding sadness. The overall film is competent yet uneven, but Clooney makes it absolutely worth seeing.

Lech Majewski’s The Mill and the Cross is a good movie that falls aggravatingly short of excellence. The film, which opens at Film Forum on Sept. 14, shows us riveting visuals as it ponders the source of artistic inspiration. Two recurring and vexing flaws spoil the atmosphere and ultimately hinder what should have been a lovely piece of work.

Terrence Malik’s The Tree of Life has been by far the most difficult movie for me to review. I did not have much trouble understanding it, but it has taken tremendous effort for me to describe and interpret the film. Even now, I’m unsure if I am properly relaying the sheer artistry of Malik’s latest endeavor. I can only suggest in broad strokes what I hope you will discover yourself and say the film’s mysterious images, meditative pace and celestial themes make it one of the most enthralling motion picture experiences in recent years.

Today is the United States of America's 235th Independence Day. Celebrations of our nation's birth will not only see fireworks and cookouts, but also patriotic movies. AMC will host a Rocky marathon while Turner Classic Movies will show features like 1776 (1972) and Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942). Personally, I like to watch something that is distinctly American without overtly saying, “Golly, we’re wonderful!” I might pick something that celebrates rustic Americana, like Disney's So Dear to My Heart (1948), or something encapsulating our optimism and happiness, like Singin' in the Rain (1952) or The Wizard of Oz (1939). This year, however, I watched a movie with a decidedly unflattering view on America: Robert Altman's Nashville (1975).

Last Saturday was the graduation for my old high school’s class of 2011. My graduation was three years ago, and I can’t help but think a little bit about what senior year was like. In many ways, it was just business as usual; finishing my studies, writing for the school newspaper and acting in school plays took up most of my time. However, there was a certain trepidation that came and went in my free time. I asked myself whether I could handle living alone and would my attractive metropolitan destination be anything like the cozy home and people I had taken for granted. I’d bet every impending graduate feels that way, though I’m equally sure not many of them would care to admit it.

I can't say I didn't see the King's Speech victory coming, but it still disappoints me (and the Director win, too). You wouldn't know it since I neglected to post a Best of 2010 list, but The Social Network was my pick for best movie of the year. I think any major problems somebody could have with a movie are absent from The Social Network. That movie will become one like E.T. or Do the Right Thing that people will appreciate more than the actual winner.

The ads for Cedar Rapids make it look like another Superbad or The Hangover, but instead it is the most charming comedy since The Kids Are All Right. It's a movie that considers its subjects human beings instead of stock figures or sideshow freaks. The rude humor is nicely proportionate to affecting performances and surprisingly underplayed scenes.

It breaks my heart to say anything close to "no" to Roger Ebert. Yes, I may disagree with him on a few movies, but to give even a mixed review to "Ebert Presents At the Movies," his first television endeavor in over four years, feels like a shot to my own chest. Alas, though the new show is not hopeless, it proves problematic largely due to its unexciting hosts.

This new program, broadcast on WLIW21 in New York, emerges five months after the original "At the Movies" ended on ABC. Ebert began that show with Gene Siskel in 1986 after 11 years of working together on public television. After Siskel's death in 1999 and Ebert's departure in 2006 due to cancer treatment, the show went through some unfortunate and sometimes gimmicky replacements (namely, the uninspired Ben Lyons and Ben Mankiewicz and the almost self-serious Michael Phillips and A.O. Scott) before ending for good. With his new program, Ebert returns to public television to revitalize the studiously yet lively type of reviewing he did with Siskel.

Ebert chose Christy Lemire of the Associated Press and Ignatiy Vishnevetsky of Mubi.com as the show's hosts. Both critics display experience and knowledge about cinema's past and present. Lemire appears to be more casual while Vishnevetsky is somewhat of a scholar. When Vishnevetsky gives a movie "thumbs up," he points out specific scenes and comparisons to past films and filmmaking techniques to explain why he liked the movie. (In the premiere episode, one of his praises about "The Green Hornet" was the cinematography's similarity to optical processes from the 1970s.) Lemire explains her opinion as well, but her comments are broader, less formal and slightly repetitive. (She used "languid" as a major adjective two reviews in a row.) I don't want to suggest one takes their role more seriously than the other because they both clearly love movies, but it does seem like the intellectual playing field is slightly imbalanced.

The problem with these hosts is that neither one has a distinctly opposite personality yet. Siskel was a collected man while Ebert had the capacity to raise his voice if it seemed a movie he liked was being attacked. Any of their disagreements is two or three minutes of guaranteed humor amidst the discourse. The only emotion I can see in these new hosts is happiness to be on television. They should improve as they do more episodes and build a relationship. (Vishnevetsky is a last-minute replacement for Elvis Mitchell of the radio program "The Treatment.") I hope they'll reveal some more facets in time, because we certainly don't want another pair as wan as Lyons and Mankiewicz.

The reviews themselves can be less than engaging. The hosts often begin by summarizing the movie before offering any criticism. If there's one thing I know as a writer, it's that you need a juicy opening to hook in an audience. Don't start by describing the plot. Give us one succinct statement on the quality so we can be interested in hearing more. Ebert is better about it in his own segment, where he handpicks movies like "The Rite" and "My Dog Tulip," but he also wastes time describing the film factually and not describing it emotionally. It's a forgivable error for a beginning show, and the critics already started making their opinions clearer in the second episode, but they should remember to relay their general statement at the most opportune moment.

The new "At the Movies" also promises specialized segments with guest correspondents. The first two episodes featured blogger Kim Morgan praising the 1949 classic "The Third Man" and essayist Kartina Richardson analyzing the bathroom as an important recurring setting in "Black Swan." Segments like these run the risk of seeming random, so I hope their subjects will stay related to the overall episode or to current events in addition to being discussed for their own sake. So far, these pieces are interesting and recall some of the special episodes Siskel and Ebert did (like their salute to black and white and their analysis of great villains).

Even with its faults, I wish "Ebert Presents At the Movies" the best of luck. I will continue watching to see if it will improve. This show is bringing back what the original "At the Movies" delivered: intelligent film discussion proffered by relatable people. The hosts this time around are not as entertaining as Siskel and Ebert were, but their potential cannot be abandoned after only two episodes. I trust Ebert very much, and if he likes these new critics, then I'll wait and see if they will earn their seats in the balcony.

Originally posted on FordhamObserver.com.

Visit EbertPresents.com to watch the show's reviews.

127 Hours – R

James Franco gives a captivating performance in 127 Hours, Danny Boyle’s inspiring, if possibly incomplete, film about adventurer Aron Ralston. Ralston’s hand was pinned under a rock when exploring a canyon, and he was stuck for five days until he severed his own arm. The film adds a lot of touches to keep the scenes of the trapped Ralston from growing tedious. We see unusual point-of-view shots from places like Ralston’s water bottle as fluid is sucked out and his camera as it rewinds his video. It also intercuts Ralston’s physical endurance with his flashbacks and hallucinations, which call to mind Dalton Trumbo’s novel Johnny Got His Gun (another amputee story, but a much less hopeful one).

Now that the fall semester and holidays are over, I can catch up on a few Oscar contenders that I’ve been too busy to see immediately.

Black Swan


Darren Aronofsky’s intense and dark fantasy follows Nina (Natalie Portman), an "aging" ballerina (mid-to-late twenties, but old enough to feel she needs bigger roles now) for whom the pressure of starring in Swan Lake initiates a chain of paranoia, sexuality, physical torture and overdue freedom. Portman is brilliant as both a girl who has taken too long to grow up and, in Nina's hallucinations, a carnal savage that wants to escape. She is surrounded (and her character oppressed) by a very good supporting cast, which includes a candid Mila Kunis as a rival dancer, an eerie Barbara Hershey as Nina's mother and an imposing Vincent Cassel as the ballet's director. His character is what Boris Lermontov (the impresario Anton Wolbrook played in the 1948 classic The Red Shoes) would be like if he had a libido.

Have you ever had to perform a long and seemingly pointless task and realized there is still more to do after the job is done? Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1, the penultimate installment in the fantasy movie franchise, is slightly similar to that. There is nothing in this movie that will compel audiences to skip the final film next July. Still, it tends to feel sluggish thanks to the meandering plot and interrupted tone.

To offer an idea of what sort of movies you can find here in New York, I pay tribute to my favorite nonprofit theater, Film Forum. Located in Greenwich Village, this theater offers new independent works, fictional and nonfictional, and revival screenings of beloved and forgotten classics. Here are three examples from their recent schedule:

My Dog Tulip


My Dog Tulip is one of the strongest examples in recent years of an adult animated film. The movie is a dramatization of J.R. Ackerley's memoir about his relationship with his German shepherd. Ackerley's recollections (adapted by director Paul Fierlinger and exquisitely voiced by Christopher Plummer) are more earthy and mature than the cute kid-friendly stories one often finds in dog movies. Despite remarking on matters like Tulip's bowel movements and Ackerley's attempts to find her a mate, these comical moments are not too crude. In fact, many of them are funny to anyone who has owned a troublemaking pet. For the more philosophical film viewer, the screenplay also features plenty of wit and wisdom as Ackerley contemplates the fulfillment Tulip gives him that humans have not. My Dog Tulip is alternately thoughtful and humorous, possessing a more adult sensibility than is usually found in American animation.

My first big assignment for the Fordham Observer this semester is to cover the New York Film Festival. I think it is with this task that I may get my most substantial learning experience since I decided to become a critic. I have already met a couple of writers who have given me valuable advice that I know will aid me in the future. If nothing else, at least I'm finally seeing and reviewing movies for free!

I could not attend nearly all the press screenings because of my school schedule, but here are the ones I did see in order of public exhibition date. This slate will be updated as I see more movies. Trailers and clips are provided for the movies that have them available.


The Social Network (PG-13)


Anytime a new technology is invented or an old one is reformed, there is bound to be somebody who asks if the change is necessary. I expect many will ask that question when they leave The Social Network, David Fincher's terrific dramatization of the creation of Facebook. They won’t be pondering so much about their relationship with the website as they will about the impact it has on the characters. As written by Aaron Sorkin and played by a remarkable ensemble of rising stars, the young entrepreneurs are personable figures whose lives are damaged by their unpredictably successful product.

I didn’t walk into Piranha 3D expecting much of anything, but I walked out thinking that this movie may actually accomplish something. It may become a harbinger for the eventual downfall of the current 3D craze.

Inspired by Joe Dante’s 1978 feature Piranha, this new movie about killer fish aims to be like the cheesy 3D horror films from the 1980s. I have not seen movies like Jaws 3-D all the way through, but I think I’ve seen enough to consider them pretty tame. Consequently, Piranha 3D strikes me as being much more violent and tasteless than anything to which those earlier films would aspire. Every scene has one or more of these three goals in mind: kill something, flash breasts and rip off the original Jaws. It fulfills these goals with sickening aplomb. The nudity is pointless, the Jaws moments are too blatant to even be funny and the overdone violence ruins some of the movie’s few amusing moments (like the ironic fate of a chauvinist director played Jerry O’Connell). Piranha 3Dis simply a piece of junk, and I say “junk” because to call it “chum” would be an insult to sharks.

Piranha 3D is bad by itself, but many of its crudest moments are present because of the unnecessary 3D effects. When it isn’t employing the technology to highlight topless girls, the movie uses the same 3D horror tricks as Jaws 3-D, which involve bringing floating objects (usually body parts) towards the audience. I usually refrain from detailing movies so I don’t spoil anything, but this time it is because director Alexandre Aja’s choices in floating objects reach the height of disgust. The only useful aspect of the 3D is that the shaded glasses dim some of the gore. Consider that a godsend if you see some of the abhorrent deeds that occur in this movie.

Video game adaptations, a film genre with a dearth of good examples, have now found a champion. I’ve never seen a movie capture the sensibilities of video games (with a few traces of comic books) as well as Scott Pilgrim vs. the World does. This is a film that compiles the commonalities of those two media forms and delights in exposing their inherent silliness. Writer and director Edgar Wright, who spoofed zombie movies in Shaun of the Dead and action films in Hot Fuzz, has adapted Bryan Lee O’Malley’s manga-inspired series into a bright and hugely entertaining comedy.

Sylvester Stallone’s new action movie about a band of mercenary good guys is as brawny, loud and rapid as the advertisements have indicated. What I did not expect is how much of a boring checklist this movie is.

This is a typical dumb action movie in that its script (by Dave Callaham and Stallone) contains insipid dialogue and a plot only meant to bridge the numerous fight scenes. The screenplay takes a further step towards mediocrity by not even bothering to exploit the clichés it uses. Familiar plot threads like Stallone’s troubled past and Jason Statham’s conflict between work and love are mentioned minimally and dropped for good when no longer useful. They add almost nothing to the plot and only seem to be there due to action movie regulations. It feels like Stallone was just obligated to give the action a context and was not really interested in creating potentially likable characters.

The Expendables relies on the chemistry of its seasoned action stars to fill in for story and personality. The actors succeed moderately at making the movie worth watching, but the plot favors Stallone and Statham so much that the others have little opportunity to prove their usefulness (I honestly cannot remember a thing Randy Couture does in combat). Of course, how can you tell what any of them are doing with the movie’s dizzying editing and cinematography (seriously, the movie looks like its camera was fastened onto a housefly)? When the camera does sit still, The Expendables features some nifty moments that show how much fun it could have been. Regrettably, Stallone’s slapdash style leaves the rest of the movie flavorless and dreadfully routine.

It might be unprofessional to admit this, but The Kids Are All Right was so lovely and rapturous that not even once could I concentrate on critical analysis. When this dramatic comedy was over, I saw that I had written down only one note the whole time, and it was just a line of dialogue I wanted to remember. But heck, I won’t need to spout technical information or present theories to just tell you how good this movie is. Directed and co-written by Lisa Cholodenko, The Kids Are All Right is exquisite in every way.

Tim (Paul Rudd), an ambitious executive, learns about a secret dinner his bosses arrange where they invite oddballs to ridicule them. Tim sees his chance to earn a place with them when he meets Barry (Steve Carell), a meek fellow who taxidermies dead mice and uses them for portraits and dioramas.

Everyone knows that the funny man of a double act is supposed to be funnier than the straight man. In Dinner for Schmucks, Rudd is one of the most sympathetic straight men I've seen in recent comedies. His physical and verbal reactions to the absurdity surrounding him are some of the movie’s funniest moments, but they work to little avail. Despite the efforts of Rudd and the amusing supporting cast (Jermain Clement is a hoot as an earthy and eccentric artist), the film is weighted down by the overbearing presence of Carell as Barry. So much of the film is spent pitting Tim’s rationality against Barry’s naiveté that the truly funny material is not given enough exposure (one might forget about the dinner subplot if the characters did not continually mention it).

Both the character and Carell’s performance are largely obnoxious and partially endearing. To paraphrase a line from Futurama, Barry’s awkward brand of humor is the type where you wish he would end his stories a sentence earlier. Carell's delivery of this material seems forced and emphatic. That’s not to say the character is unbearable. The moments of compassion towards him are performed affectingly, even if some of them feel shoehorned. Still, Barry would have been more likable if played in a lower key (John Candy would have been perfect) and with less panache.

Most action movies are episodic to varying degrees, but Salt particularly feels like multiple pieces with little connection between them. Angelina Jolie plays Evelyn Salt, a CIA operative on the run when a Russian defector claims she is a Russian mole sent to trigger another nuclear war. The first 40 minutes build this movie as a wrongful accusation story, like The Fugitive. It shows Salt improvising her way out of the CIA base in a fun, if far-fetched, set of sequences. The movie also includes a couple moments where Salt takes a breath or assesses the situation, clearly intending to build sympathy for her. This fretful atmosphere is ruined by jarring plot twists that occur around the halfway mark. From that point, the movie sloppily throws in scene after scene of Salt doing various tasks, aiming to make us question whether she is on the American side or the Russian side.

Salt does such a clumsy job establishing its title character that the mystery of her loyalty feels completely improvisational. There is almost no foreshadowing prior to each change, and there is usually nothing after the change to suggest another one is coming. Much of this is a timing issue. For example, the first details of the Russian terrorist plan appear at the same time that the accusation towards Salt does, and both events happen in the first 15 minutes. We have no time to meet Salt and to percept clues in her personality that may suggest a shadier dimension. Therefore, when she does seem to act on behalf of Russia, it feels like a sudden about-face rather than the validation of our suspicion. Salt would work better if it took the time to build the character’s mystery. Instead, it makes her alternate two roles back and forth in a choppy and indecisive fashion.

Christopher Nolan's cerebral science-fiction thriller Inception is an absolute dream by two accounts. First, it is a godsend to every mainstream movie fan deprived of anything truly involving this summer (aside from Toy Story 3). Second, it mirrors our subconscious apparitions by being an entrancing reverie as you watch it and a confounding puzzle when pondered in retrospect. In his first film since the megahit The Dark Knight, Nolan has intricately shaped an adventure more marvelous and mystifying than practically every other movie this year has seen so far.