“All is Lost” is like “Life of Pi” without the tiger. Or like “The Poseidon Adventure” without Shelley Winters. Or Red Buttons. Or Gene Hackman… or anyone, except Robert Redford.
Redford is a nameless sailor on a solo yacht trip on the Indian Ocean. When his thirty-foot boat collides with an abandoned shipping container he must use all his resources to survive.
That’s it. The old man and the sea… and a yacht with a hole in the side. Like “Gravity,” the other recent “adrift in the great yonder” movie, “All is Lost” is an exercise in immersive cinema. Story is secondary to the character’s journey. There is virtually no narrative, just a boiled down man-against-nature plot and a growing sense of desperation as the sailor’s supplies dwindle.
The drama comes from the surroundings, the harsh world recreated by director J.C. Chandor (whose last film “Margin Call” was an overlooked gem). It’s claustrophobic, made doubly intense by watery sound effects and a building feeling of helplessness portrayed on Redford’s face.
The actor is in every frame of the film and although he only speaks a dozen or so lines—many of which are the monosyllabic utterances of distress you’d expect—he manages to create a compelling persona despite the lack of backstory, context or any of the traditional hangers characters get hung on. He is the essence of the film, a man hell bent on survival against increasingly difficult odds.
“All is Lost” is probably more audacious than it is entertaining, but it showcases Chandor’s nimble footed technique and Redford’s effortless star power. Alone and figuratively naked, he holds the screen for the entire 106 minutes, eloquently commenting on the human condition with no words, just action.
I’m hard pressed to know whether the appeal of “Escape from Tomorrow,” the much talked about 2013 Sundance Film Festival hit, is that it is a surreal psychological drama about a man who loses it at The Happiest Place on Earth, or if it is simply a stunt film, destined to be best known as the first feature film shot at Disneyland without the permission of the Mouse House folks.
Jim’s (Roy Abramsohn) life disintegrates when he is fired form his job. Unfortunately the middle-aged father of two is on vacation at Disneyland when he gets the news.
What should be a fun filled final day at the park soon becomes a nightmarish journey into Jim’s heart of darkness. While trying to navigate his wife and kids through the park, he becomes overwhelmed by the sensory overload, the artificial fun and even some sexy tourists.
As he slowly becomes immersed in the fantasyland inside his head and the Disney fantasy surrounding him he loses his grip on reality.
Director/writer Randy Moore and cast spent ten days shooting at Disney World with another two weeks at Disneyland, filming surreptitiously on small digital cameras.
The result is a stylish black-and-white movie—a Disney noir—that doesn’t reveal its guerilla roots. It’s a slick looking slice of surrealism that benefits greatly from its iconic setting. The manufactured gaiety of the surroundings provides production value far beyond what a micro budgeted feature like this could afford and is a perfect dreamlike backdrop for the story of the deconstruction of Jim and his psyche.
But I have to wonder if we’d be talking about this movie at all if not for the audacious circumstances surrounding its production. The film’s wonky pacing and indulgence of male fantasy—Princess / Prostitutes anyone?—would suggest this is a feature film that may have benefitted from some story and picture editing.
There are some good ideas here about not being able to run away from your problems, even if you are at the Happiest Pace on Earth but the film changes tone midway through and becomes more self aware as the insanity mounts. Bleeping the word Disney is jarring (although I imagine it is meant to draw a laugh) and too much exposition drags things down in the final half.
“Escape from Tomorrow” is definitely a one-of-a-kind cinematic experience (and the strangest film to bear any Disney imprint, legal or not) but despite Moore’s obvious passion the film feels like it is straining to reach feature length.
The pitch for “Jennifer’s Body” is certainly attention-grabbing. Mix “Transfomer’s” sexpot Megan Fox and “Juno” screenwriter and all round “it’ girl Diablo Cody and the result should be pure gold. Well, pure gore splattered gold in this case. “Jennifer’s Body” leaves behind the world of giant robots and pregnant teens for a bloody story about demonic transference and a cheerleading succubus who feeds on the intestines of teenage boys.
Despite its name the town of Devil’s Kettle, Minnesota is not a demonic hot spot. Not at least until a rock band named Low Shoulder plays at a local bar. At the concert are Jennifer Check (Fox) and Needy Lesnicky (Amanda Seyfried). Best friends since they were kids the underage girls are there to check out the band, and in Jennifer’s case, specifically the lead singer. When a fire breaks out in the bar, chaos ensues and as most of the concert goers are trapped inside, Jennifer and Needy make it out, but something is isn’t right. Jennifer is glassy eyed and unresponsive, and when Needy last sees her, in the band’s van. Later, when Jennifer comes back to visit Needy she isn’t so pretty anymore—unless blood covered, tar vomiting girls turn you on. Something has happened to Jennifer, but what? When boys from school start to go missing Needy thinks she might know…
“Jennifer’s Body” breathes the same air as the great Canadian horror film “Ginger Snaps.” Both are inventive takes on established horror mythology—in Ginger’s case it was the werewolf legend here it is demonic possession—both feature humor and lots of blood and guts. But—you had to know there was a “but” coming—where “Ginger Snaps” had effortless dialogue that sounded like real teenagers talking to one another, “Jennifer’s Body” is weighed down by the overly cute pen of Diablo Cody.
In Cody’s world teens talk as though they have Hollywood screenwriters feeding them lines. Oh wait! They do. They drop sparkling bon mots as easily as Dorothy Parker after her fifth martini in the Oak Room. Cody’s characters don’t get jealous, they get “jello;” they don’t feel ill they feel “boo hoo,” and when they curse they say things like “cheese and fries.” I’m all for inventive language but much of the dialogue here seems to be trying a bit too hard.
Cudos to Cody though for coming up with an inventive story and peppering the script with laughs. When she describes one of the creature’s victims resembling “lasgna with teeth,” when they found him it’s funny. It’s dark humor reminiscent of the horror comedies of the 1980s like “An American Werewolf in London” and “The Toxic Avenger” that covered the laughs with lots of red stuff.
At the heart of “Jennifer’s Body”—or should that be soul?—is Megan Fox. As the victim of a botched satanic ritual—they apparently don’t work if the sacrifice isn’t a virgin—she seems to be having more fun here than in either of the “Transformers” movies, but despite being this year’s Zeitgeist grabber she’s upstaged by Amanda Seyfried. Only in a movie like this could Seyfried be portrayed as the “dorky, plain girl.” I guess it’s because she wears glasses, but there is nothing dorky or plain about Seyfried or her character.
“Jennifer’s Body” is bound to grab a teenage audience—the gratuitous kissing scene between Fox and Seyfried alone is bound to sell tickets to many a seventeen-year-old boy—but despite being an enjoyable bit of fun, likely won’t have the same impact as Cody’s attention grabbing work on “Juno.”
“Escape Plan” is the kind of movie you used to rent on DVD back when there were video rental stores on every corner. It wouldn’t have been your first, second or maybe third. It’s the kind of movie you chose when everything you actually wanted to see was gone. “This doesn’t look too bad,” you’d say to yourself, warily holding the case in your hand.
Combine low expectations with a couple of beers and maybe a fast forward button and “Escape Plan” is passable. But take any of those elements away and add in the price of a big screen ticket and the movie becomes way less passable.
Sylvester Stallone is Ray Breslin, a lawyer-turned-escape artist. He’s the Houdini of the penal system, a man who makes a lot of money as structural-security authority.
In other words he escapes prisons for a living.
He’s broken out of fourteen maximum-security jails but when he takes a job at The Tomb, a privately run prison where the worst-of-the-worst—people who need to be “disappeared”—are warehoused everything goes wrong. The deal changes and it looks like he might live out the rest of his years behind bars. Up against the evil Warden Hobbs (Jim Caviezel) he schemes with another inmate Rottmayer (Arnold Schwarzenegger) to “Papillon” their way out.
This is the kind of movie that used to go straight to DVD. The real question here is how “Escape Plan” escaped that fate and made it to the big screen.
On the upside it has a pretty good villain in Caviezel who is the nastiest warden since “Caged Heat’s” McQueen. There’s a twist I did not see coming and hearing Arnold say, “You punch like a vegetarian,” is always welcome, but I always hoped when Arnold said, “I’ll be back,” it would be in a good movie.
On the downside, and it is, admittedly, a lopsided pro and con list, there is dialogue that sounds like it was run through the Cliché-O-Matic™–not the new, updated iOS 7 version, but an older analogue model—to a couple of lame attempts at creating new catchphrases to the sight of two aging action stars trying to relive the glory years.
“Escape Plan” is further proof that the Sly and Arnie show only really works if the work “Expendable” is in the title.
People have been asking me about this movie for months but they haven’t been asking, ‘Is it good?, they’ve been asking me why anyone would remake the 1976 classic.
After seeing it, I’m not sure.
The new version is a perfectly serviceable adaptation of Stephen King’s famous book but it doesn’t have the vulnerability or frailty that made Sissy Spacek so memorable in the title role.
The third adaptation of Stephen King’s 1974 novel stars Chloë Grace Moretz as Maine high school outcast Carrie White, a lonely girl teased by classmates and abused by her deeply religious mother (Julianne Moore). Despite the best efforts of gym teacher Miss Desjardin (Judy Greer) to help Carrie fit in, a clique of mean girls led by Chris (Portia Doubleday) make it their mission to ensure that Carrie has a rough time at school. After being humiliated at her senior prom—pig’s blood will really ruin a taffeta dress apparently—she unleashes a terrible telekinetic vengeance on those who wronged her.
Director Kimberly ‘Boys Don’t Cry’ Pierce has been more or less faithful to the flow of the book and Brian De Palma’s movie, but there are differences.
Where Spacek was a true outsider, an abused, naïve girl, Moretz plays her with a bit more pluck and I’m not sure it services the character. Carrie 2.0 still has a sullen look for the ages but she has more backbone than her predecessor and for me that eroded some of the tragedy of the story. Both are Ugly Ducklings transformed into swans and then monsters, unwitting and undeserving victims of horrible abuse, but Spacek’s take on the character brought more vulnerability to the character and that, for me, better underlined her deeply sad story.
Moretz’s best scene happens before the bloody revenge rampage. There is a sweetness to her in the prom scenes (pre pig’s blood) that makes the anticipation of what is to come all the more tense. Too bad the rest of the movie doesn’t hold that tension. Also a mother and daughter knife battle made me shift to the front of my seat mostly because it felt more organic and less computer generated than some of the other displays of Carrie’s mad telekinetic skillz. It felt dangerous in a way that the rest of the violence didn’t.
Despite a slower-than-necessary pace, I liked Julianne Moore’s head thumping self-punishment scenes and Portia Doubleday’s take on the lead mean girl who takes just a bit too much delight in tormenting Carrie.
“Carrie” works in those moments, but generally there’s too much CGI—the floating books are silly—and since when can Carrie fly?
Late into “The Fifth Estate” Guardian investigative journalist Nick Davies (David Thewlis) says, “most good stories start at the beginning.” I argue that he’s right– about 99% of the time. Unfortunately this look at WikiLeaks and hacker-turned-whistleblower Julian Assange falls into the 1%.
Based on the book “Inside WikiLeaks: My Time with Julian Assange at the World’s Most Dangerous Website” by Daniel Domscheit-Berg, “The Fifth Estate” details the breathless years leading up to WikiLeaks biggest story—the release of the “Collateral Murder video” which showed Iraqi journalists killed by an AH-64 Apache helicopter and the Afghan War Diary, comprised of more than 76,900 leaked documents about the War in Afghanistan.
Assange is one of the more controversial figures of recent history. Is he a journalist? A hacker with an anti-establishment ideology? Or a war criminal with blood on his hands?
The movie presents all possibilities, but can’t seem to decide on one point of view. As played by “Sherlock” star Benedict Cumberbatch, he’s certainly an arrogant leader who says things like “Courage is contagious,” a master manipulator and an active soldier in the information wars, prone to angrily snapping shut his laptop. He’s James Bond with a mouse, on the run from the CIA and Interpol, like a hacker Woodward and Bernstein but beyond the surface veneer we don’t learn much about him other than the origin of his dyed blond hair.
We do get background on the founding of WikiLeaks. We learn that Assange created a system that made real leaks untraceable, disguised by thousands of lines of meaningless code. “Give a man a mask,” Assange says, quoting Oscar Wilde, “and he will tell the truth.” The anonymity WikiLeaks offers works and Assange, along with zealot hacker Daniel Domscheit-Berg (Daniel Brühl), break many important stories and become shadowy celebrities in the process.
But with their success comes ego and a fracture in their relationship when Assange insists in releasing unredacted versions of sensitive documents related to the Afghan War.
In its first half “The Fifth Estate” gets weighed down with tech exposition. Director Bill Condon tries to keep things lively with frenetic editing and exotic locations but it fails because, unlike “The Social Network,” it doesn’t focus on the people but the website and the ideology. The story picks up when the Afghanistan leaks happen—they are, after all the Pentagon Papers equivalent of the Afghan war, exposing war crimes—which may have been a good place for the story to start, not end.
It’s the most exciting part of the WikiLeaks tale and has the drama the earlier scenes lack.
Cumberbatch acquits himself well, although his long blond locks and Aussie Alan Rickman impression can be a bit distracting.
Also distracting is the film’s overly slick presentation. For a movie that is all about Anarchy in the URL it should have a bit more of a punk rock feel.
“The Fifth Estate” is a rather ham fisted look at the information wars, which contains some drama but takes too long to get to the good stuff.
There’s a key line near the beginning of “12 Years a Slave, “ the new drama from “Shame” director Steve McQueen. Shortly after being shanghaied from his comfortable life as a freeman into a life of slavery Solomon Northup (Chiwetel Ejiofor) declares, “I don’t want to survive. I want to live.”
Based on Northup’s 1853 memoir the movie is an uncompromising story about will, suffering and injustice.
The film begins in 1841 in Saratoga, New York. Northup is a respected member of the community, an educated family man and talented musician. His journey into hell begins when he accepts a gig to provide music for a traveling magic show. While on the road he is sold into slavery by two unscrupulous men and shipped from the safety of the northern states into the south’s servitude.
Torn from his wife (Ashley Dyke) and two kids (Quvenzhané Wallis and Cameron Zeigler) he is sold from plantation to plantation, all the while hiding his education and literacy in an effort to deflect the attentions of his overseers and owners.
No matter how bad his situation, and it is dire, he never gives up his will to live and his dream of making his way back to the north and his family.
Unflinching in its portrayal of brutality, “12 Years a Slave,” is a grim document of man’s inhumanity and twisted justification—“A man can do whatever he wants with his property,” spits Edwin Epps (Michael Fassbender)—that serves as a primer of pain and cruelty suffered by those pressed into slavery.
Powerful situations and performances abound.
An excruciating lynching scene is all the more powerful because of McQueen’s quiet, unblinking camera. As Northup struggles with a rope around his neck McQueen pulls back, showing the complete diorama, with people going about their day, children playing and white owners gazing passively at the man as he fights for breath. It’s an unforgettable sequence that hammers home the horror of how commonplace this unspeakable behavior was.
The movie is ripe with such scenes that bring the true terror and pain felt by Northup. Its not easy viewing but it is effective, brought alive by interesting work from Paul Giamatti as a slave trader who says his sentiment for those he buys and sells, “extends the length of a coin,” Benedict Cumberbatch, Northup’s first and kindest master and Fassbender, the personification of cruel and unusual.
Paul Dano, Brad Pitt and Lupita Nyong’o also add much, but the core of the movie is Ejiofor’s passionate work as a man forced into unimaginable circumstances. Simultaneously vulnerable and defiant he delivers a deeply layered performance that is sure to earn him the notice he has deserved for years given his work in movies like “Dirty Pretty Things” and “Children of Men.”
“12 Years a Slave” is a harrowing, stark movie that is equal parts educational and devastating.
“Cottage Country” is a twist on your usual cottage in the woods movie. Typically in films like “Sleepaway Camp” or “The Hills Have Eyes,” groups of feral teens weekend at a remote cabin, only to find their mortality at the bottom at of a bottle of Jägermeister.
“Cottage Country” is different, at least for the first twenty minutes or so. There are no teens in sight. Instead we’re introduced to Todd (Tyler Labine) and Cammie (Malin Akerman), a tightly wound thritysomething couple on their way to his family’s cottage for a much needed week away.
The yuppie duo has big plans for the next seven days, including a well-thought-out proposal on a romantic island in the lake.
The first clue that isn’t a romantic comedy or a study in proper yuppie lust is Cammie’s prophetic line, “I have a feeling this is going to be our best trip to the cottage ever!”
Instead it’s the beginning of a nightmare trip that turns violent when Todd’s free spirited brother Salinger (Dan Petronijevic) and his morbid girlfriend Masha (Lucy Punch) show up unannounced.
You’ll have to buy a ticket to get the rest of the plot. I won’t spoil any of the surprises contained within beyond saying this turns from country idyll to a study in yuppie rage and duplicity. Prepared to do whatever it takes to ensure future happiness Todd and Cammie reveal their true colours—his lack of a backbone and her obsessive compulsion on following plans to the letter, no matter what the outcome.
Good performances from “Tucker and Dale vs Evil’s” Tyler Labine, “Watchman’s” Malin Akerman and Benjamin Ayres as an unusually observant party guest, help sell the movie’s transition from yuppie rom com to horror show. It’s a slow burn that bridges the gap between the gore (and gory ideas) and the gags.
The new Lynn Shelton film is a slow burn. The languidly paced story about a massage therapist (Rosemary DeWitt) with an aversion to touch, an awkward dentist (Josh Pais) with the ability to heal TMJ and his daughter, the directionless Jenny (Ellen Page), is a delicate creation. It’s a character study about fear of intimacy that makes up for the listless story with atmosphere and wonderful, naturalistic performances from the cast. Allison Janney shines as a Reiki master, but it is Page who breaks hearts as a woman with unrequited love for a man.
