As a subcategory of the horror genre, the exorcism film does not have the best reputation. For every The Exorcist, there are a dozen Posessed’s and Beyond the Door’s. Yet, when done well, there is rarely something as profoundly [...]
The Devil Inside (January 2012)
I can’t even talk about this movie because it looks so.freaking.good. Yes, most of us learned from The Last Exorcism that we shouldn’t judge a film by its exorcism theme, but this includes several promising elements:
- Freaky jumping out things
- Weird whispering
- Women wearing no makeup in hospital gowns
- “Real Footage” but not a full film in handicam
- Done by choosy director William Brent Bell (Stay Alive)
- That lip thing with the cross? Awesome.
Atrocious (August 2011 but I’m guessing none of you saw it)
I know what you’re thinking. Wahh, so many horror movies ripping off Blair Witch Project because that’s the first movie ever that used a handicam. This movie looks awesome and here’s why: it’s in Spanish, its tagline is “2011’s answer to Paranormal Activity,” and that footage looks totally real. In case no one’s noticed, when something works in the horror industry, it tends to stick. Has no one seen one of the first slasher movies?
The Divide (January 2012)
Post apocalyptic survivors trapped in a bunker get crazy and weird (surprise). Admittedly this looks a lot like one of my favorite horror films (The Hole), and given that comparison, the whole ever-popular post-apocalyptic trope seems a bit unnecessary, but the action at the end promises some bland but surprising imagery and some pretty rad action. Also, who here realized Milo Ventimiglia was still alive?
Filth to Ashes, Flesh to Dust (Technically September 2011, but I haven’t seen it anywhere)
I have no idea what this movie is about except that there are boobs and the acting style resembles that so beautifully highlighted in The Room. Sold.
Rare Exports (Christmas)
Perhaps you’re wondering how you’re going to spend your Christmas. Let me help you answer that question: watching this.
A prequel to the 1982 Kurt Russel classic, The Thing follows a group of scientists and helicopter pilots (Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Joel Edgerton, Ulrich Thomsen, Eric Christian Olsen) that make a startling discovery in the icy wastes near the South Pole. However, celebration doesn’t last long, as they quickly realize that the specimen drudged from the ice is more dangerous than they could have ever imagined.
Director van Heijningen, Jr., whose resume boasts only short film and commercial work, indicates a deft understanding of the requirements for suspense and tension. The pacing of the film is generally tight, and although it accelerates quickly into the action, there is never a sense that the director has lost control of the wheel.
A great part of the suspense is contributed by the original concept. Rarely do alien films pair the Earth’s innate hostility with a violent extraterrestrial presence. Here, while the creature attacks from within, the tundra outside is equally dangerous. Thus the tension is twofold. Where do you go when you cannot stay inside, and you cannot go outside?
And when we say “inside,” we mean inside. The concept of the creature accesses the core of all fear associated with arrival of an alien presence. Rather than creating a simple monster that harries the scientists, The Thing imagines a creature that can replicate the cells of a host, living inside the body, masquerading as a human being. Rather than a murderous invasion, this creature attempts to slide into place among us until it strikes. Its intrusion is not exterior, it is into the very cells of the body.
Like the alien and its hosts, this film appears to be a fairly standard thriller on the outside, but inside it lacks heart. The characters are not developed, so it is up to the actors to create the unscripted personalities for us. As a result, the relationships are often confusing and inconsistent. As the cast gets slowly picked off, it is unclear who to root for, and no death feels weighty or even very interesting.
In the end, The Thing is a solid film that gives the right amount of jumps and thrills. Still, even with a concept this chilling, the story leaves us numb.
In the forties, Robert Penn Warren’s novel All the King’s Men relayed a story of the danger of politics for good men, and the disillusionment delivered by the politically great. Now, George Clooney’s The Ides of March attempts to impart the same message.
March, co-written, directed, and starred in by Clooney, follows Steven (Ryan Gosling), an up and coming campaign staffer for Governor Mike Morris’s (Clooney) run for the Democratic primary. Steven finds his ideals challenged when he becomes a pawn in a game of campaign managers (Paul Giamatti and Philip Seymour Hoffman), reporters (Marisa Tomei), and interns (Evan Rachel Wood).
Clooney’s vision is clear and specific, if a bit narrow. Steven, an intelligent and seasoned consultant with an idealistic vision of political potential, is doomed by his own optimism. After years in the business, he believes that Morris is a politician unlike the others. When Duffy, Giamatti’s puffed up rival campaign manager, offers Steven a job, he argues, “I don’t have to play dirty anymore. I’ve got Morris.”
The painting of Steven’s character is handled exceptionally well, and the most intriguing part of the film is the behind-the-scenes look at the campaign. We see Steven as a puppeteer, carefully pulling strings to support his candidate, tip-toeing through the press. The delicacy of politics is the real wonder, and the insight Steven’s role gives the impression of a performance rather than a job.
But this sense of subtlety is quickly lost as the film delves into the supposedly tragic disillusionment of the optimist. Evan Rachel Wood’s Molly, Steven’s love interest with– surprise – a dark secret, seems more like a plot device than a character, and her acting is so reminiscent of high school theater that Gosling appears incapable of playing convincingly off her performance.
Aside from the over the top framing of scenes, such as a shot that places Steven lost in thought, silhouetted against a giant American flag, Clooney makes an ill-conceived choice in attempting to draw comparisons by framing scenes in ways that evoke images from organized crime films. While a subtle nod in this direction might be effective, scenes where dark political discussions occur in the shadowy kitchens of local restaurants appear manipulative and phony. Intended to lend the story arc a sense of higher stakes, and justify some of the melodrama, it fails deeply when the sense of danger fizzles out and we are reminded that this is a story of a primary campaign, not a mob takeover.
This is Clooney’s greatest mistake. In the end, politics are dramatic in subtle, and often intellectual ways. While the stakes are high, with the campaign and Steven’s career at risk, the fact remains that politics simply are not life and death. By creating a film about politics that chooses cheap tricks over remaining true to the tone and pace of politics, Clooney illustrates an inherent ignorance to his subject.
Perhaps what Clooney discovered is that the meat of politics is not screen worthy, or engaging, or dramatic. If the content of a campaign looked like the flashy glitz of March, then maybe the populace would be more eager to play a role in it. Clooney’s Morris seems more like a preacher than a politician, and while he parrots all the right opinions for the film’s demographic, Morris is simply, too good to be true.
In the end, the package leaves the impression of a glossy exterior with little thought behind it. But it does make you wonder, how many more people would turn out to vote if real politics looked this good in a suit?
March, co-written, directed, and starred in by Clooney, follows Steven (Ryan Gosling), an up and coming campaign staffer for Governor Mike Morris’s (Clooney) run for the Democratic primary. Steven finds his ideals challenged when he becomes a pawn in a game of campaign managers (Paul Giamatti and Philip Seymour Hoffman), reporters (Marisa Tomei), and interns (Evan Rachel Wood).
Clooney’s vision is clear and specific, if a bit narrow. Steven, an intelligent and seasoned consultant with an idealistic vision of political potential, is doomed by his own optimism. After years in the business, he believes that Morris is a politician unlike the others. When Duffy, Giamatti’s puffed up rival campaign manager, offers Steven a job, he argues, “I don’t have to play dirty anymore. I’ve got Morris.”
The painting of Steven’s character is handled exceptionally well, and the most intriguing part of the film is the behind-the-scenes look at the campaign. We see Steven as a puppeteer, carefully pulling strings to support his candidate, tip-toeing through the press. The delicacy of politics is the real wonder, and the insight Steven’s role gives the impression of a performance rather than a job.
But this sense of subtlety is quickly lost as the film delves into the supposedly tragic disillusionment of the optimist. Evan Rachel Wood’s Molly, Steven’s love interest with– surprise – a dark secret, seems more like a plot device than a character, and her acting is so reminiscent of high school theater that Gosling appears incapable of playing convincingly off her performance.
Aside from the over the top framing of scenes, such as a shot that places Steven lost in thought, silhouetted against a giant American flag, Clooney makes an ill-conceived choice in attempting to draw comparisons by framing scenes in ways that evoke images from organized crime films. While a subtle nod in this direction might be effective, scenes where dark political discussions occur in the shadowy kitchens of local restaurants appear manipulative and phony. Intended to lend the story arc a sense of higher stakes, and justify some of the melodrama, it fails deeply when the sense of danger fizzles out and we are reminded that this is a story of a primary campaign, not a mob takeover.This is Clooney’s greatest mistake. In the end, politics are dramatic in subtle, and often intellectual ways. While the stakes are high, with the campaign and Steven’s career at risk, the fact remains that politics simply are not life and death. By creating a film about politics that chooses cheap tricks over remaining true to the tone and pace of politics, Clooney illustrates an inherent ignorance to his subject.
Perhaps what Clooney discovered is that the meat of politics is not screen worthy, or engaging, or dramatic. If the content of a campaign looked like the flashy glitz of March, then maybe the populace would be more eager to play a role in it. Clooney’s Morris seems more like a preacher than a politician, and while he parrots all the right opinions for the film’s demographic, Morris is simply, too good to be true.
In the end, the package leaves the impression of a glossy exterior with little thought behind it. But it does make you wonder, how many more people would turn out to vote if real politics looked this good in a suit?
While you may never read it on a prescription pad, the concept that laughter is the best medicine is familiar to most. Jonathan Levine’s 50/50 proves it with a film that’s half cancer drama, half buddy comedy.
Inspired by writer Will Reiser’s own experience with illness, 50/50 tells the story of Adam (Joseph Gordon Levitt), who is diagnosed with spinal cancer at the age of 27. Most of the narrative balances his struggle to accept his chances of survival with the ups and downs of his social support: his best friend, Kyle (Seth Rogen), reluctant girlfriend (Bryce Dallas Howard), overbearing mother (Anjelica Houston), and therapist (Anna Kendrick).
50/50 is not a standard illness film following in the footprints of Love and Other Drugs or A Walk to Remember. While Gordon Levitt’s representation of the physical hardship brought on by the cancer and treatment rings true, the movie never gets overly lost in representations of sorrow or anger. Instead, it is chiefly a comedy, choosing to face each new development with a light sense of humor.
This is made possible, and inoffensive, by the charms of the lead actors. Gordon Levitt plays Adam’s bitterness and dry humor with reservation, giving the sense of an actor seasoned far beyond his years. Still, he is easily outshone by Rogen, whose heroic Kyle is a Judd Apatow transplant with a heart of gold. Rogen, Reiser’s real life friend, has plenty to call on; the writer attributes some of the film’s best scenes to actual experiences the two shared when Reiser was battling his own cancer.
Culturally, most people are fairly accustomed to the concept of illness among the elderly. The establishment of rest homes, retirement villages, and hospice organizations has both removed exposure to affliction and codified a practical and emotional response to it. But what happens when it happens to you, and you’re young, and you have your whole life ahead of you?
This is the question that Reiser attempts to answer. While the film at times gets tied up in the shadow that Hollywood casts over its head (portraying a one-sided girlfriend, or an unbelievable romantic prospect), Reiser’s answer touches on friendship in a way that the bromance trend is alternately too bawdy or too shy to portray. Adam and Kyle are more like family than friends, and it is the warmth of their interaction much more than any doctor’s words that reminds us that everything will be OK.
Inspired by writer Will Reiser’s own experience with illness, 50/50 tells the story of Adam (Joseph Gordon Levitt), who is diagnosed with spinal cancer at the age of 27. Most of the narrative balances his struggle to accept his chances of survival with the ups and downs of his social support: his best friend, Kyle (Seth Rogen), reluctant girlfriend (Bryce Dallas Howard), overbearing mother (Anjelica Houston), and therapist (Anna Kendrick).
50/50 is not a standard illness film following in the footprints of Love and Other Drugs or A Walk to Remember. While Gordon Levitt’s representation of the physical hardship brought on by the cancer and treatment rings true, the movie never gets overly lost in representations of sorrow or anger. Instead, it is chiefly a comedy, choosing to face each new development with a light sense of humor.
This is made possible, and inoffensive, by the charms of the lead actors. Gordon Levitt plays Adam’s bitterness and dry humor with reservation, giving the sense of an actor seasoned far beyond his years. Still, he is easily outshone by Rogen, whose heroic Kyle is a Judd Apatow transplant with a heart of gold. Rogen, Reiser’s real life friend, has plenty to call on; the writer attributes some of the film’s best scenes to actual experiences the two shared when Reiser was battling his own cancer.
This is the question that Reiser attempts to answer. While the film at times gets tied up in the shadow that Hollywood casts over its head (portraying a one-sided girlfriend, or an unbelievable romantic prospect), Reiser’s answer touches on friendship in a way that the bromance trend is alternately too bawdy or too shy to portray. Adam and Kyle are more like family than friends, and it is the warmth of their interaction much more than any doctor’s words that reminds us that everything will be OK.
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