There is a perversity to the title of Rick Alverson’s new film. The ironically named “Entertainment” isn’t, as the title would imply, an all-singing-all-dancing extravaganza or, despite having a comedian as a central character, a funny look at life. Instead it is a grim-faced portrait of a man staring into the abyss.
Gregg Turkington is playing an amplified version of his onstage comedic persona, Neil Hamburger. With a comb over that makes Donald Trump look like the model of follicular restraint, a hacking cough that punctuates his ‘jokes’ and an abrasive attitude he’s Don Rickles on steroids. On tour in the California desert, playing a series of dive bars and prisons he’s slowly working his way to reunite with his estranged daughter. He’s a broken man who briefly stays with his cousin (John C. Reilly) and is in danger of drinking himself to death.
Not exactly a barrel of laughs but one of the most original and uncompromising movies to come along in some time. Alverson’s film is as volatile and surreal as its main character which makes for an unsettling cinematic experience. Is it enjoyable? Not exactly, but it does what good movies should do, it challenges the viewer. A study in the mundane “Entertainment” is a story about isolation and anonymity that takes its time, giving the audience time to ponder the emptiness in the Comedian’s life… and maybe even their own. It’s an existential drama perhaps best suited for fans of Franz Kafka.
The Brady Bunch is pop culture’s most famous blended family.
The story of a “lovely lady who was bringing up three very lovely girls,” and a “man named Brady with three boys of his own,” who “would somehow form a family,” ran for fives seasons on TV, endlessly in reruns and even spawned two movies.
“The Brady Bunch is a live-action modern fairy tale of family,” says Christopher Knight who played Peter Brady on the original show. “In this context it’s less odd that it’s lasted for over 30 years; and why it may last in some respects as long as Mother Goose!”
He may be optimistic on the eternal appeal of his show, but he’s not wrong to imply that the idea of blended families could remain the subject of stories and movies for years to come.
This weekend “cinematic soulmates” Drew Barrymore and Adam Sandler reunite for a third time, following The Wedding Singer and 50 First Dates, for Blended, a romantic comedy about the mixing and mingling of two families.
Hollywood has been blending screen families for years. The grandfather of these blended family stories has to be Yours, Mine and Ours.
Based on the memoir Who Gets the Drumstick? by Helen Beardsley, this 1968 Lucille Ball, Henry Fonda film sees a widow with eight kids and a widower with 10 children (including Mike, played by Tim Matheson 10 years before he found fame in Animal House) become one big (almost) happy family.
The film was produced by Ball, who became so friendly with the Beardsleys she treated all 20 of them to a trip to Disneyland. ABC and Paramount Studios were so impressed with the film they gave the green light to the similarly themed The Brady Bunch show.
The same year, movie legend Doris Day made her final big-screen appearance in With Six You Get Egg Roll, a blended family story about a widow with three sons who marries a man with a daughter. The kids don’t see eye to eye, but soon figure out a way to live together. Released so soon after Yours, Mine and Ours, Eggroll got good reviews, but, as Roger Ebert wrote at the time, “would probably seem funnier if it didn’t suffer by comparison.”
Finally, Step Brothers is an R-rated look at extreme Peter Pan Syndrome. Will Ferrell and John C. Reilly play 40ish men who become bunkmates and reluctant stepbrothers when their parents (Mary Steenburgen and Richard Jenkins) marry. The familiar reprimand “Grow up and act your age” fell on deaf ears with these guys. It’s like watching two overweight, foul-mouthed 10-year-olds with thinning hair going at each other, but it is good vulgar fun.
As anyone who watched Yogi Bear or Winnie the Pooh knows, a good chunk of a bear’s life is spent searching for food. A new Disneynature documentary, “Bears,” has an up-close-and-personal look at how real bears hunt for food in the wild, far away from Yogi’s pic-a-nics and Winnie’s honey pots.
Directed by “Planet Earth” wildlife legend Alastair Fothergill (with co-director Keith Scholey), “Bears” is the result of a year long shoot, following mother Sky, and her cubs Scout and Amber as they fight the elements, wolves and a nasty outcast bear named Chinook in a quest for the “bear” necessities of life.
“Bears” integrates story with an educational point of view. Kids will learn about the bear’s migration via beautifully shot film, stunning time-lapse photography. Unfortunately a strangely conceived voice over from John C. Reilly adds a narrative that anthropomorphizes the animals, adding in an unneeded storyline that seeks to humanize these majestic creatures. Shots of the mother bear delicately eating a clam is elegant and primal, it isn’t necessary to add silly narration to give human attributes to the bears.
It’s meant to make the story more relatable, bit feels a little trite—for instance a scene of Sky and Amber ripping a writing salmon apart is described as a mother and daughter’s sushi date—for a movie with such lush wildlife photography.
In short, let the pictures do the talking. Show me, don’t tell me.
Beyond the distracting VO, “Bears” is a welcome addition to Disneynature’s wildlife canon. There is some intense circle of life stuff that may upset young animal lovers, but the bears emerge with their dignity and majesty intact and kids will learn something while being entertained.
Step Brothers, the new R-rated comedy from the Judd Apatow sausage factory, is a look at extreme Peter Pan Syndrome. Will Ferrell and John C. Reilly, last seen together in Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, play 40ish men who still live at home and become bunkmates and reluctant step brothers when their parents marry. The familiar reprimand “Grow up and act your age” fell on deaf ears with these guys.
Ferrell and Reilly play Brennan Huff, a thirty-nine-year-old who recently lost his part-time job at Pet Smart who lives with his mother, Nancy (Mary Steenburgen) and Dale Doback, an unemployed forty-year-old who still resides under his father Robert’s (Richard Jenkins) roof. When Nancy and Robert tie the knot Brennan and Dale are forced to share a room in Robert’s luxurious home. Sparks fly as the two immature men clash, arguing and beating one another with golf clubs.
Eventually their shared love of Star Wars and karate helps them find a bond and they become tight friends. Unfortunately as one big immature, lazy force they are twice as destructive as before. Their aggressive behavior prevents them from getting jobs and finally drives a wedge between Nancy and Robert. Will their parent’s impending divorce finally force these middle-aged slackers to grow up?
Step Brothers is essentially an 80s teen comedy with two 40 year olds in the roles that would have been played by young nerdy actors Anthony Michael Hall and Larry B. Scott in 1985. It’s got a meaner edge and certainly worse language than the classic teen comedies of twenty years ago, but the message of being true to yourself could have come straight from the pen of teen scribe guru John Hughes. Besides, any movie that uses a Dane Cook Pay-Per-View Special as a punch line is OK by me.
The chemistry between Ferrell and Reilly as the poster boys for arrested development saves this one-joke idea from becoming monotonous. They play off one another well and as their step-sibling-rivalry escalates so does their outrageously childish behavior. It’s like watching two overweight, foul mouthed ten year olds with thinning hair going at each other.
Step Brothers is silly R-rated summer moving-going fun.
It’s been a rough twelve months for Will Ferrell fans. It seemed the funnyman was losing his touch. Kicking and Screaming was an unfunny flop, Bewitched was so bad that even if I saw it on an airplane I would still want to walk out and Melinda and Melinda showed his more serious and less interesting side. He had a couple of cameos that raised a smile or two in The Producers and The Wedding Crashers, but overall it seemed that the prolific comedian was making too many movies too quickly. It appeared that the silly glory days of Anchorman, Elf and Old School were behind him. That is until the release of Talladega Nights: the Ballad of Ricky Bobby reaffirmed his status as the silliest man in movies.
Ferrell co-wrote and stars in this movie about a dim-witted Nascar driver who rises to the top of his field only to lose everything when a French Formula One racer undermines his confidence. Call it the Fast and the Hilarious because it is the funniest movie that Ferrell has been in a while.
As Ricky Bobby, Ferrell has just the right amount of mindless redneck emptiness behind his eyes, the perfect slanted grin and all-American go-for-broke spirit to bring the Nascar driver to life. Ferrell is also one of the pluckiest of the comics currently working on screen. No joke is too broad to be milked, no chance to strip down to his underwear is missed and no pratfall is too undignified for the fearless Ferrell. Whether he is saying his version of grace at the dinner table re-imagining Jesus way he likes to see him, as a baby not as the long-haired hippie, or driving with a live cougar in the passenger seat every joke is pushed to the limit.
Good supporting work from Gary Cole, John C. Reilly and Sacha Baron Cohen, (better known as Ali G), make Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby the funniest movie of the summer.
Everyone knows what “going postal” means but how about “going video”? It’s the idea behind a new Disney movie called “Wreck-It Ralph,” about a disgruntled video game character who demands respect.
Wreck-It Ralph (John C. Reilly) knows a thirty-year gig as an arcade character is a good run, but he needs a change. He’s tired of being the bad guy, the bully who destroys things to make game’s hero and namesake Fix-It Felix (Jack McBrayer), look good. “Are there medals for wrecking stuff really well?” he wonders. The answer, of course, is no.
To prove he’s more than just a clumsy oaf who breaks things, that he can be a hero, he game jumps from Fix-It Felix to Hero’s Duty, a violent game with a gold medal as a prize. But things have changed in thirty years. “When did video games get so violent and scary?,” he says.
Unfortunately the game also has evil Cy-Bugs that Ralph inadvertently brings over to another game, the saccharine Sugar Rush. Game jumping once again Ralph discovers a kindred soul, Vanellope von Schweetz (Sarah Silverman), battles the bugs and learns that sometimes being bad is good.
The first twenty minutes of “Wreck-It Ralph” are a blast. Spectacular animation, great storytelling and loads of inventive humour set the stage. Unfortunately once Ralph jumps from one game to the next the movie becomes much more standard.
It’s still eye candy, but the cleverness of the beginning disappears, replaced by video game style action adventure. True, it is populated by some fun characters—Jane Lynch is hilarious as the tough talking commando character while Alan Tudyk mixes a hint of the Great Gazoo with Wally Cox to come up with King Candy—and the action is broken up by some inventive animation but the spark of the opening just isn’t there.
Arcade purists, however, will find much to get their joysticks in a knot over. Anyone who grew up playing the first generation of arcade video games will get a nostalgic twinge at the jittery animation of the older characters, and it is a hoot to see the 8-bit bartender from Tapper, Street Fighter’s Zangief and Doctor Eggman all come to glorious digital life.
“Wreck-It Ralph” is better than average, with strong messages about friendship and accepting who you are, and despite being state-of-the-art, has a nice nostalgic glow. Just like the glow of an arcade gaming console.
While Kevin may be the titular star of “We Need to Talk About Kevin,” after seeing the movie the person everyone is talking about Tilda Swinton, who hands in an unforgettable performance as New York suburbanite, mother of a monster and social pariah.
Swinton plays Eva Khatchadourian, travel agent, wife of Franklin (John C. Reilly) and mother of Kevin (played as a child by Rock Duer and Jasper Newell, as a teen by Ezra Miller). Kevin is a constant thorn in her side, from his colicky childhood to his troubled teens, she is at odds with her own son, convinced he is trouble. As her worst nightmares slowly come true the film studies, simultaneously by jumping back-and-forth in time, the build up and aftermath of Kevin’s violent behavior.
Based on a bestseller by Lionel Shriver, “We Need to Talk About Kevin” is a hauntingly stylized look at a deeply troubled relationship. Using a fractured timeline director Lynne Ramsey allows the viewer to decide whether Eva’s interaction with her son turned him into a beast or whether she gave birth to bad seed. It’s a fascinating character study that asks more questions than it answers, but is given real depth by the performances.
Miller is chilling in the role, the personification of troubled teen, but it is Swinton who steals the show. When she utters the line, ““I’m going straight to hell. Eternal damnation, the whole thing,” it would be funny it wasn’t so ripe with self-hate and pain.
“We Need to Talk About Kevin” is made for adventurous viewers; those who can stand watching real ennui played out on screen.
In recent years the template for the big Hollywood musical biopic has been perfected and written in stone. Take a troubled childhood, throw in a tragedy involving a younger sibling, some drug use, a tumultuous romance, lightening strikes of musical inspiration and you have—take your pick—Walk the Line or Ray, two successful biographies that cleaned up at the box office.
Walk Hard, a new outrageous comedy from the team that busted guts with Knocked Up and Superbad, uses all the usual clichés and more to present the story of the amazingly resilient pop star Dewey Cox (John C. Reilly). The film opens, as biopics so often do at the end of the singer’s career, with an elderly Cox about to take the stage for the first time in years. As Cox stands in a darkened hallway deep in thought a stage manager tries to get him on the stage. “Dewey Cox needs to think about his entire life before he plays,” explains his longtime drummer played by SNLer Tim Meadows, and the movie takes off, amplifying and poking fun at all the usual clichés of the genre.
Walk Hard is ridiculous, but ridiculously funny. Like This is Spinal Tap it takes elements from rock ‘n’ roll legend and twists them until they become almost unrecognizable. Screenwriters Judd Apatow and Jake Kasdan looked to Brian Wilson for the drug addled “musical masterpiece” scenes, while the child-bride story is lifted whole from Jerry Lee Lewis’ life and they’ve even thrown bits and pieces of Jim Morrison, Led Zeppelin, Bob Dylan and Elvis. It’s a musical gumbo that equals the life and unruly times of Dewey Cox.
No matter how silly the movie gets—and it gets very silly—John C. Reilly, who’s built like Johnny Cash, but sounds like Roy Orbison, for the most part plays it straight. His earnest take on Dewey is hilarious, particularly when the 42-year-old actor is playing the 14-year-old Dewey. Look for fun supporting work from White Stripes singer Jack White as Elvis, Harold Ramis as the record company head and Paul Rudd, Jack Black, Justin Long and Jason Schwartzman as John, Paul, George and Ringo and cameos from Lyle Lovett, Jewel, Ghostface Killah and Jackson Browne.
Unlike Ray and Walk the Line Walk Hard doesn’t have a back catalogue of tried and true hits to fill out the soundtrack. Not to worry. Apatow and company have done a great job of coming up with convincing and catchy “hits” for Dewey to sing. The original songs from the title track to Dewey’s others chart toppers, like Hey Mr. Old Guy and Guilty As Charged were written by pedigreed songwriters like Marshall Crenshaw and even Brian Wilson’s Smile (which is parodied in the film) co-writer Van Dyke Parks.
Musical biopics were ripe for parody and like other movie spoofs—Scary Movie and Airplane! come to mind—Walk Hard does a good R-rated job at taking the Mickey out of the genre.
There is a perversity to the title of Rick Alverson’s new film. The ironically named “Entertainment” isn’t, as the title would imply, an all-singing-all-dancing extravaganza or, despite having a comedian as a central character, a funny look at life. Instead it is a grim-faced portrait of a man staring into the abyss.
