stuck

It sounds too lurid to be true. It seems as if it had to come from the mind of Stephen King. Possibly it could be an urban legend, but not something that actually, really happened. As horrifying as it is, in 2003 a woman in Texas seemed intent on proving the old cliche that truth is stranger than fiction. On her way home from a night of partying the young woman struck a homeless man with her car. In a bizarre example of physics at play the homeless man became lodged in the broken windshield. Horrified, the woman drove home, parked her car in the garage, and went inside to try to sleep the events of the evening off, the whole time leaving the homeless man stuck in a horrible limbo, slowly dying in her garage. Given the facts of the case you’d think that a movie based on these events would be a humorless exercise, delving into the depths of human depravity and suffering. If it had been directed by anybody except Stuart Gordon, I’d be inclined to agree with you.

Stuart Gordon made his name in the film world with his first feature, 1985’s Re-Animator. Along with Sam Raimi’s Evil Dead films and Peter Jackson’s Dead Alive, Gordon helped launch the “splat-stick” sub-genre of horror. While Raimi and Jackson have both moved on to more respectable fare, Gordon has stuck fairly close to his horror roots for the last 22 years. It’s when he is deftly balancing humor and horror that Gordon is most successful. Luckily, Stuck calls for him to do a lot of balancing. He is able to spin this story of one man’s nightmare scenario into a series of escalating events, by turns hilarious and horrifying, often simultaneously.

All of the tonal shifts wouldn’t be possible in the first place if it wasn’t for the excellent cast. Surprising and inspired choices were made for both lead roles. Most of the dramatic work is from Brandi as portrayed by Mena Suvari. Miles away from her best known roles in American Beauty and American Pie, where she played idealized visions of upper middle-class high school girls, her Brandi is a caring but desperate character. She hasn’t had a lot of luck in life, and when talk of a promotion happens on the same day as the accident, she makes the fateful decision that a little thing like a man dying slowly in her garage isn’t going to stand in the way of her climbing the corporate ladder. Spending most of the film impaled on a wiper blade, Stephen Rea isn’t given a lot to work with. However, he manages to make the most of it, filling Thomas with a sadness that metamorphoses into grim determination. In the hands of a less accomplished actor the role would probably be reduced to a showcase of bleeding and grunting.

A lot of people will probably be disturbed by the gleeful combination of a true life atrocity and sick humor, but for those with strong constitution Stuck is a gem that manages to evolve the splat-stick genre in a dramatic direction.

saw v

Chances are, you already know if you’re going to see this movie or not. At this point in its run the Saw franchise is a known quantity, offering up no surprises, just new traps and barely coherent bits of moralizing. It has come to be a comfort food of sorts; that is, if you’re part of Leatherface’s family. That being said, let me put off judgment on the fifth film in this gruesome juggernaut for just a few moments and talk about the series in general.

Since the first film gained enough popularity to be talked about on the national scene it’s been slapped with the label “torture porn” and talked about as the harbinger of this new horror subgenre. To me, torture porn is a term that elicits a very specific response. If standard “porn” (or should it now be termed “sexual porn”?) has no purpose other than to bring us real (or realisitc) images of people copulating, then “torture porn” should have no pretenses with regard to character or plot, just hack, slash, thank you ma’am. When applied to Saw this has always felt a bit off. The film plays out more like a gory Twilight Zone episode than Faces of Death with a moral. (if you can dig that minor distinction) The blood is always deployed in the service of teaching a lesson, nor is it overly gratuitous. Of course the same could be said of the sex in a porn flick, but I doubt anyone has ever uttered the phrase, “There is just too much fornication in this pornographic film!” At any rate, I personally don’t buy the Saw movies as torture porn. It seems to me that the intent behind them is to deliver thrills along with a twist-filled storyline.

Now with the semantics of modern moviegoing out of the way, I have to point out that just because it’s not torture porn, dosen’t mean it’s any good. Just because the original intent is to thrill us with story, doesn’t mean its going to happen. There are two plotlines that we bounce back and forth between. The “A” plot is concerned with Scott Patterson as Agent Strahm tracking down the loose ends of the now-dead (but still getting a lot of screen time) Jigsaw (Tobin Bell). The “B” plot deals with a bunch of people involved in nefarious deeds who are learning a lesson about something or another. Ok, the B plot line is there just to pad the film, most of these people don’t even get names, nor flashbacks, which the Saw films hand out like sex in a porno (I knew I could find a cohesive theme for this review). The A plot is clearly where the meat was meant to lie; too bad that meat was torn off in some mildly ironic trap.

Both plots share a common weakness: old-fashioned bad filmmaking. Scenes were clearly reorganized in the hopes of making a coherent story, but instead we wind up with a villain who spends half of the film’s running time sitting in a parked car and an FBI agent who leaves his office 3 times in one evening. Besides basic logic, the filmmakers also fail with regards to Suspense Building 101. If a twist is supposed to come at the end of the movie, you can’t tip your hand early by showing us more than the character knows. The realization of their failure to comprehend earlier clues should come to the audience at the same time as the character, otherwise the twist lacks, well, a twist. It’s more of a “straight” at that point.

I have to admit much of my anticipation for the movie was based around getting to see Scott Patterson swear and get sprayed with blood. Both of these things were largely lacking from his most famous role as Luke on Gilmore Girls. Wherein, if I may be permitted an aside, he totally should have wound up married to Lorelai. Ahem, back to the subject at hand: I think he actually could have made a compelling go as a troubled rogue agent if only the script (and direction) would have allowed him to. Instead, every time Agent Strahm encounters a new clue he looks at it meaningfully for a moment, and then promptly announces its importance to the audience. This problem has been solved many times; voice-overs are widely hated, but one would have worked wonders here. In Manhunter, Michael Mann has William Petersen dictate his thoughts into a tape recorder; given the devices ubiquity in the Saw universe, this option would have fit like a glove (over a dismembered hand). By far the best option would seem to be TRUSTING YOUR AUDIENCE. If we see a picture, then see someone thinking, we know it’s important. Leave it at that. The filmmakers, however, decide to shove it down our throats. First we see a picture which connects two characters, then Strahm says (out loud, to himself) “The two of you worked together!” then we get a flashback, where, indeed the two of them do work together. The realization is barely shocking the first time; by the third or fourth time it happens, I was rooting for Strahm to get caught in one of Jigsaw’s traps just so he’ll stop telling us what he’s thinking every two minutes.

By the time the credits rolled, I had fallen in league with Jigsaw, another acolyte to carry on his twisted lessons. At this moment, I am desiging a device that can hold the director perfectly still whilst I show him Saw V repeatedly. To earn his freedom he only has to admit that he turned a prefectly good trashy flick into just another bad movie.

blindness

The science fiction/horror genre has often served as a launching pad for story tellers who wish to explore grand themes and still deliver an exciting story. In the late 50’s Rod Serling perfected this balancing act of thrilling, funny, heartbreaking stories mixed with social commentary and personal reflection. In The Twilight Zone television series, Serling worked with top notch writers to craft stories that would entertain viewers week after week, while still delivering a powerful message, all in 30 minutes. My guess is that Fernando Meirelles, director of Blindness, has never seen an episode of The Twilight Zone.

The main conceit of the film is that an infection of unknown origin begins causing an odd “white” blindness among the citizens of an unnamed metropolitan city. Through a chain of events we are introduced to a cast of characters who all seem to be loosely connected. Note that none of the characters are given actual names; we only come to know them for what they represent: doctor, wife, child, thief, whore, victim. Before long the government decides the best course of action is to round up all those infected and ship them off to an abandoned asylum. When the containment crew comes for the doctor (Mark Ruffalo), his wife (Julianne Moore) rashly decides to feign blindness to stay close to her husband. Once inside the asylum-turned-internment-camp Doctor’s Wife uses her gift of sight to help the afflicted, without revealing that she is, in fact, sighted.

From a storytelling perspective the blindness is, of course, not the point. It’s a metaphor and a plot device used to disorient the characters and get them into the asylum, which can now be shown as a microcosm of society. This represents my main problem with the film. Everything in it is used to serve the allegory. The story, which should be first and foremost, is left out in the rain. Every movie tells you how to watch it. It does this by creating a world that is unlike our own but still has it’s own logic that we can recognize and follow. Not in Meirelles film though. Characters operate inconsistently, acting only to make a statement rather than according to any logic. This carelessness with story rots the movie from the inside out.

Which is a pity, because as an example of the technical side of the cinematic craft it is amazing. The techniques used to draw us first into the unnamed city and then into the world of the blind are incredibly effective. Disorienting and sometimes beautiful, the cinematography is also cunning. It works in service to the world that it creates. Bathed in ugly washed out earthtones for long stretches it imprisions us as viewers, then shocks us with the brilliant orange of a flame, or the deep blue blacks of a night sky. DP Cesar Charlone clearly understands his art. It could have been truly stunning if set to work for a better movie.

According to Mary Poppins “A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.” Rod Serling understood that, it’s too bad he’s not around today. He would have known to add the sweetness that this film needs. Because as it sits now Blindness is a tough pill to swallow.

Run Fatboy Run

Comedy, more than any other genre, is like a friend. A great comedy makes you laugh a lot and never overstays its welcome. Any great friend should do the same, as well as occasionally pick up the tab for dinner. On the other hand, we’ve all had friends who just aren’t funny – they may be good people, but every joke they tell falls flat. When comedy fails, it’s often painful bear witness to, and if you will allow me to carry this metaphor to its extreme conclusion, David Schwimmer’s Run Fatboy Run would probably be a manic depressive friend.

The plot is a trifle of a thing. Five years ago perennial loser Dennis Doyle (Simon Pegg) left his beautiful, pregnant fiancee Libby (Thandie Newton) at the altar. Libby is now engaged to nice guy Whit (Hank Azaria), and when Whit mentions that he is running a marathon Dennis takes it as a challenge and decides to run as well. Dennis somehow thinks that by running 26.2 miles he will prove to Libby that he’s no longer an irresponsible dolt. Just to be clear, he is both irresponsible and doltish.

The surprising thing about the movie is that it manages to make us genuinely like Dennis. This is quite a feat considering that our relationship with him begins with him fleeing the woman carrying his child. His best friend Gordon, rakishly portrayed by Dylan Moran, is a drunken, womanizing gambler. Dennis can’t manage to pay his rent and he’s regularly late to pick up his son for visits, yet we want him to grow and achieve. This is largely due to Simon Pegg, who has a knack for making idiots appear adorable.

The first half of the film is very funny, often darkly so. Pegg and Azaria make fantastic rivals, trading barbs and backhanded comments, while never crossing over into outright meanness. Much to the film’s credit, even though we know Whit will reveal his evil side in time, they do give him quite a while to be the Good Guy. He bonds with Jake (Matthew Fenton), Dennis and Libby’s son, and he seems to be genuinely interested in helping Dennis become a better man. That is, until the final reel, when he is revealed to be a full-on mustache twirling villain. The problem is that the earlier scenes with Whit and Dennis trying to balance their hatred for one another against their mutual love for Libby are much funnier.

Dennis and Whit’s relationship is indicative of the film as a whole. When writers Michael Ian Black and Simon Pegg are playing against convention they are able to mine the material for some truly uncomfortably funny moments; it’s when they start playing by the rules that the movie becomes boring and trite. I’m not sure whether to blame the writers, the director or that old stand-by ’studio interference,’ but the last half of the film is a marked departure from the first. It plays like a Disney movie-of-the-week extolling the virtues of believing in yourself.

Ultimately, Pegg is likable enough to warrant a viewing, although it would have been interesting to see what they could have made of the film without the schmaltzy ending.

RockNRolla

Subtlety is overrated. Now hear me out. I’m not saying that we should burn every Bergman or obliterate every Ozu. I do believe, however, that oftentimes something worth doing is worth overdoing. What better time do overdo something than when it’s going to be projected on a thirty foot high screen?

Admittedly, the counter argument holds a lot of water as well. Much of what we, as the viewing public, are presented with is unsubtle to the point of being painful. I would like to posit however that a lack of nuance is not nearly as painful as a lack of artistry.

Now to move this argument from the abstract to the concrete with Guy Ritchie. (Note: For conveniences sake we will be removing Swept Away as a point of discussion. I’m sure this angers no one.) Here is an auteur who has reliably been about as subtle as an overused simile. Even the titles of his films are gleefully over the top, Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels, Snatch,  Revolver, RocknRolla. Titles that conjure greasy images of sex, drugs, and yes, even rock and roll, before the first frame of film is even projected. He is obvious, yet not artless. His movies throb and pulsate with palpable style, delivered with a sure hand by someone who knows the bloody, visceral thrill that celluloid can create.

Even though all his characters seem to have grown up within the same neighborhood, there is a logical progression to the films themselves. A maturing of ideas, if not necessarily of content. His foul mouthed protagonists have begun to strive for some sort of depth in his last couple of outings. The dénouement of Revolver in particular plays out like a philosophical discussion held at gunpoint. While RocknRolla never attempts to dissect kabbalah teachings, Gerard Butler’s character of One Two is certainly a more complex man than Snatch’s Turkish.

But, honestly character complexity isn’t the reason you buy a ticket to a Guy Ritchie movie. The plot twists and turns back upon itself like some unholy union of Syd Field and Oroborous. Coincedence and misunderstandings abound. There are so many fake outs and double crosses that the whole affair simply has to be explained via voice-over. Jean-Luc Godard famously said “All you need to make a movie is a girl and a gun.” RocknRolla is well stocked with firearms, Thandie Newton is definitely a dame to die for, and kiss, kiss, bang, bang, sounds damn good with a cockney accent.