A bit on the box office, and some summer film picks

It’s Memorial Day weekend, which means the official opening of the summer film season, and for the first time, the box office seems to be responding. Both Madagascar and The Longest Yard look to score in excess of $60 million on their four day openings, while Star Wars continues to knock the Sith out the competition and allow for ongoing bad puns by wannabe entertainment writers. These are strong openings for second and third place films, and the staying power of Lucas’ sci-fi soap opera shows robustness to ticket sales, if not much in the way of good taste. That said, here are my top film picks for the summer.

1. Batman Begins: Director Christopher Nolan reportedly held a screening of Blade Runner for his cast and crew, telling them “this is how we’re going to make Batman.” His Memento gained recognition for its narrative pyrotechnics, but it was also a film deeply devoted to its characters. Combining the visual density of Blade Runner with the seriousness and character depth we know Nolan can achieve could turn out one of the best superhero films of the recent boom.
2. War of the Worlds: We all know that when it comes to spectacular filmmaking, Spielberg is virtually unmatched in Hollywood, and War of the Worlds promises the sort of epic action and pathos that only the Beard can deliver.
3. Land of the Dead: Word is good on this fourth installment from Romero. As a relative neophyte in horror and zombie films, I’m curious to see what Romero’s take on a modern, relatively high budget (for him) picture will be. And no matter what, it’s got a post-apocalyptic wasteland full of zombies that want to kill Dennis Hopper.
4. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory: I’ve been severely disappointed by Burton’s last two films. Planet of the Apes was, despite some impressive makeup, howlingly awful, and, despite the positive reactions of many, I found Big Fish treacly, sentimental mush marred by bad pacing and a digressive script. But here, Burton looks to be freed once more to loose his ultra-quirky surrealist fantasy worlds on unsuspecting cinemagoers, hopefully with a minimum of sap.
5. The Island: I realize that this counts me out of the cool kids club of elite filmgoers, but I have a rather large, exploding, oversaturated soft spot for Michael Bay. While Armageddon and Pearl Harbor worked only in their action set pieces, The Rock and the Bad Boys films were blood-vessel bursting examples of the cinema of testosterone. His movies may not be classics, but they are the epitome of the loud, stupid, rowdy, macho affairs for which summer was made - and I say that with utmost respect. No one blows shit up quite like Michael Bay.

If high SAT scores are your goal, it’s best to stick to the rules

In today’s New York Times Magazine, Ann Hulbert writes about the unfortunate way in which the new SAT writing section is being administered. Essentially, students are given worthlessly general, impossible to answer questions and then told to decisively pick a side, writing what they feel is correct.

The goal, I suppose, is to teach students the basic, formulized structure for good critical essays: introduction, thesis, topic sentences leading into body paragraphs and a restatement of the main ideas in a conclusion. But the problem is that the prompts are simply bits of abstract conventional wisdom, like “Is it more important to follow the rules exactly or to base your actions on how other people may be affected.” Where a real critical essay would dissect the problems inherent in both sides, trying to show which instances might be better suited to which solution, these students are asked to reflexively choose one side and stick to it. One of the unfortunate effects of this testing style is that it herds students into declaring their initial reactions as unquestionably true. Furthermore, it offers no way to test one of the prominent features of a good writer – the ability to make a reasoned judgment that is not only coherently organized, but also appears to be better than the alternative.

As is increasingly the case in American schools, students will simply be taught the test. Thus, they’ll end up writing short, formulized essays in which the last sentence of the first paragraph restates the question in declarative form – “It is more important to follow the rules exactly” – followed by a few short body paragraphs that give asinine reasons for why this argument is always true. But intellectual stubbornness is perhaps a virtue we need to teach less of, as it trains students to instinctively take their first, unconsidered notions as unassailable gospel, and suggests that a good writer only admits to one side of an argument bearing any merit.

Part of what critical writing teaches is the ability to make nuanced distinctions in the correctness of an argument. But this test encourages students to run off half-cocked with their first impulse, blasting away at counterarguments without giving them any thought. SAT-takers are being taught to stick to what they feel. The Kaplan test-prep guide says “What’s important is that you take a position and state how you feel. It is not important what other people might think, just what you think.” But strong feelings do not a good argument make, nor does unwaveringly ignoring outside opinions when formulating your own. This sort of insulated rigidity of thought is more akin to Communist Russia the intellectual meticulousness we ought to be encouraging in students.

The SAT’s writing section is a good idea. More emphasis should be placed on efficient, precise communication in today’s schooling, and if nothing else, this new section should promote writing that is clearer and more organized. And no matter how flawed the exercise, anything that asks students write more often will be better. But equating good writing with the sort of brash verbal bullying this test promotes is a shame. That’s how I feel and I’m sticking to it.

FILM REVIEW; Downfall - a monster, a myth, a man

It’s difficult to talk about Hitler as a man, and it’s equally difficult to think about the Nazi party as anything more than a band of villains and thugs. Hitler and his Nazis are shorthand for demons, a reference to man’s ultimate evil, but never a reference to men. Downfall, a film about the last days of World War II wants, at least on some level, to challenge that attitude. Covering the last few days of Hitler’s stand against the Germans, it’s a fantastically gripping piece of drama that seems determined to humanize Hitler without removing his monstrous aura. In doing so, it becomes a film about belief’s capacity to corrupt, and the result is a pervasive hopelessness buoyed by a few lonely pillars of tacit courage.

Shot with a gritty, indie-film sensibility, the cinematography is filled with earthy tones and shaky, documentary style close-ups. This sets the film apart from its historical epic counterparts (Ridley Scott – that’s you), making it personal and character based. There are plenty of wartime fireworks to be found, but Downfall is about individuals, not spectacle.

The individual at the forefront, of course, is Hitler himself, and the film seems determined to paint him as distinctly human without demythologizing his evil. In Downfall, Hitler is a smoldering wreck of a man, a downed giant who barks impossible orders and genuflects on the finer points of suicide, equally mad in calm and rage. Like Berlin, the city-in-siege in which he is bunkered down, his demise is imminent. But under his rash, unstable command, neither he nor his city will relent to the pressures posed by either the Russian onslaught or the increasingly disturbed German commanders. Hitler is hurtling towards his own death and trying to drag his beloved city along with him.

The film’s many supporting characters carry the film through its long running time, and it is to director Oliver Hirschbiegel’s credit that he balances the large cast so well. Most heartening are Hitler’s secretary, Traudl Junge (Alexandra Maria Lara) and Dr. Ernst-Guter Schenk, a German doctor who defies orders in order to assist suffering German troops. Junge, whose real-life counterpart speaks the film’s opening and closing words, is fresh faced and innocent, a young woman happy to have a respectable job in the German government. Her character provides the transition from acceptance to horror at what the Nazis did. Schenk’s doctor is the film’s moral center, a reasonable man who wants only to help the German people. Caught in an impossible situation, he does what little he can to ease their insurmountable suffering.

This is fortunate, because suffering and failure are at the very center of this film’s story. The final half hour is a relentless parade of death, primarily suicide, that digs mercilessly into the Nazi defeat. The party’s true believers, and there were many, cannot fathom the possibility of anything less than total success; they had become convinced that their victory was guaranteed. Their surrender, right after Hitler’s suicide, results in an extreme, violent cognitive dissonance, and many follow their dictator’s lead and take their lives.

Watching Magda Goebbels beg for Hitler to not to kill himself and the poison her children is Downfall’s cruelest, bluntest moment, and it suggests a dark, destructive side to the power of faith. Frau Goebbels’ fervent belief in the ultimate victory of National Socialism was, as with much of the country, unshakably ingrained; the permanence and certainty of that belief led both her and her country to ruin.

At one point, her husband Joseph, leader of the Nazi SS, says that of the German citizenry, he “feels no sympathy.” His approach to killing is cold and businesslike. Despite its dramatic density, the same might be said for Downfall’s treatment of both its subjects and audience.

Sasha Frere-Jones lays down the rock critic rules

"I will not write about any piece of music unless I have unlimited access to a portable version of it, renderered in either the CD, MP3 or vinyl format."

Word.

Now, this is not to say that every album must be listened to dozens of times over a period of months. Often, this isn't even possible due to late-arriving assignments and quick deadlines. There are also plenty of albums that don't deserve more than a single listen. They're worthless from start to finish, making the same mistakes in song after song, and it doesn't take long to realize that to listen through is just to catalog the same atrocities over and over again.

But especially on important, or even just Big, Sure-To-Be-Hit albums, it's necessary to preserve the opportunity of the critic to listen to the album on their own time, as background music to different situations and moods, because, as Jones says, this is how the end-listener will experience the album. More critics should take Jones' cue and refuse to participate in this sort of big-label fascism.

Precious moments from The Chronicles of Riddick

"You know, you're supposed to be some slick killer. Now look at you... all back of the bus 'n shit."

"I owned this place and hell, I'd rent this place out and live in hell."

FILM REVIEW: The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy: Mostly Harmless, Often Quite Funny.

Science fiction isn't generally known for its comedy. Though a few successful attempts have been made – Men In Black and Ghostbusters come to mind – it’s generally a genre devoted to geeky, self-serious stock characters. The grim sardonicism of the rugged, B-picture military types that inhabit sci-fi action thrillers is about the closest most futuristic movies come to laughs.

This is unfortunate, because the bizarre, spaceship-and-alien-filled worlds that science fiction generates are ripe for comedy. Thus, when a science fiction comedy that gets it even mostly right comes along, it's a cause for celebration, or at least some warm gestures of appreciation. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, in its book form, was inspired surrealist-satirical lunacy. The film, while slightly less successful, mixes the two genres quite nicely, blending goofy American slapstick with absurd, awkward British shtick andgently shaping it into the form of a big-budget summer blockbuster. While it may not be slavishly accurate to its beloved source books, it is a remarkably genial film that more than makes up for its meandering plotlines with sheer likability.

The story begins with the Vogons' demolition of Earth for an intergalactic superhighway, a stab at the brutish, inhuman carelessness of public works and large bureaucracies. The Vogons are the film's chief nasties, obsessive paper pushers who pine over forms and signatures. Theirs is a world of grouchiness and regulation, and the film uses their incomprehensible poetry to knock the creative pretensions of bureaucracy.

But Hitchhiker doesn't just criticize the stodgy, mind-numbing "artistry" of the paper-pushing class; it also celebrates the joy of thoughtful creation, both literally and stylistically. Literally, it finds its resolution in a factory devoted to the creation of planets. Science fiction authors have long extolled the joys of creating new worlds, and Adams' story took this idea and ran, finding a deep satisfaction in both the grandeur and minutiae of invention. Stylistically, the film itself is carefully realized world, and there is certainly joy to be found in its creations: the Vogons, the wacky, bulbous spaceship The Heart of Gold and John Malkovich as Humma Kavula, walking across a table on dozens of metallic, golden tentacles. The Vogons, especially, are a treat. The filmmaker's rather than succombing to the temptations of CGI, coaxed some wonderful work out of Jim Henson's creature shop. These, wrinkled, suit-wearing curmudgeons are a reminder of how much more solid practical effects feel in comparison with their computer-generated counterparts. Even the opening explosion is more about what's happening than the spectacle of special effects wankery; this is a rare blockbuster impresses with something other than technical prowess.

It says much about the movie's tone that its opening planet-annihilation is viewed primarily as disconcerting and slightly annoying, and this mostly because it's an impediment to a good cup of tea. Despite its American gloss, there is a distinctly dry, British undertone to the production, most notably in its protagonist, the hapless, reserved Brit Arthur Dent (Martin Freeman).

Dent, like nearly all of the characters, is disarmingly sweet. Thrust into a series of unrelentingly wacky situations, he displays a harried agitation with the general state of his existence. Freeman plays up Dent's frustrations, giving him a flustered, nebbish persona that's keenly aware of the way life's subtle cruelties always seem to best him. Allowing Dent to display genuine weakness makes him a refreshing counterpart to the unending string of blustery action heroes that usually populate event pictures such as this one. The result is that, in Dent's inevitable moment of final resolve, he's a believably changed person overcoming a real struggle, not a sleek-boned model being polishing a minor flaw.

While Dent is the best drawn of the leads, the other characters are similarly fun to watch. Dent's insecurities are balanced out by the half-baked (or possibly just very baked) antics of Ford Prefect (the always brilliant Mos Def), playing a vigorously out-there space hitchhiker. Prefect is the film's most consistently funny character, and Mos Def's timing is imbued with a quirky, shifty rhythm, as if Prefect is living in a world that's just slightly removed from the one everyone else experiences.

Zooey Deschanel plays Dent's love interest, Trillian, and while she doesn't have much to do, she gives every moment an unexpected combination of naïve girlishness and resolute femininity. Even without much in the way of depth, Deschanel makes Trillian tremendously appealing, and it's immediately clear why Dent is smitten with her: so is everyone in the audience.

The film retains the book's secular humanist bent, but tempers it with an all-encompassing, goofy sweetness. Douglas Adams was, like so many science fiction authors, an aggressive humanist, and his books took regular potshots at typical humanist targets like religion and spiritual pseudo-science, as well as more generalized targets of annoyance like slow-moving bureaucracy and stupid politicians. Even the business of world creation is an inherently humanist notion, suggesting that humans must find happiness in making the world around them. The aforementioned parodies can still be found in the suit-wearing Vogons or the religious-political order devoted to sneeze worship, but the film doesn't belabor its commentary. Zaphod Breeblebrox (Sam Rockwell), who plays the President of the galaxy as a swaggering, thieving idiot, is clearly intended to ape the current President, but he’s primarily an obnoxious buffoon, not a political caricature. These satirical darts come with a plastic tip – they're far more playful than pointed.

Playful, in fact, is probably the single best word that can be used to describe the film. Filmed with an acute sense of abstract visual nonsense, it's most successful when transferring Adams' stranger descriptions into ridiculous sight gags. The improbability drive, which causes highly improbable events to occur in increasingly hilarious fashion, and the titular Guide itself, an animated document narrated with sublime dryness by Stephen Fry, allow the film to retain the book's narrative digressions. Director Garth Jennings moves between bits on a missile that turns into a whale and the escape of all dolphins from Earth with smooth assurance, and almost manages to succeed in weaving it all together into a single, cohesive narrative.

Almost, but not quite; the film's major weakness lies in its lack of dramatic focus. The aimless narrative never congeals around a single conflict; it can't decide whether it wants to be about the Dent-Trillian love story, the search for a nifty but ultimately irrelevant gun, or possibly, the answer to the meaning of life, the universe and everything (which astute readers will already know is 42 - when in doubt, trust Google). Despite, or perhaps as a result of, tossing about all these plotlines, the film never defines a central dramatic arc. By default - or at least blockbuster tradition - the finale revolves around a Vogon showdown, and the ending sequence loses some of the film's earlier energy, drifting off into space like a discarded satellite.

Still, the film is tremendously agreeable for the majority of its running time, successfully transferring much of Adams' rambling, wacky, satirical style into something that also approximates all the necessities for a major Hollywood production. This may sound impossible, but in Adams' world, it's just highly improbable.

Terry Gilliam has a nose for trouble

CHUD, whom I like to think of as the sensible geek alternative to Ain’t It Cool News, has posted the one-sheet for the new Terry Gilliam film, The Brothers Grimm. Gilliam, Monty Python animator and director of Brazil, The Fisher King, 12 Monkeys and the psychotically brilliant Fear and Loathing adaptation, seems perfectly matched with this sure-to-be-wacky story of the classic storytellers as con men hoisting supernatural tricks on unsuspecting villages.

Writer Devin Faraci suggests that Gilliam is rather unhappy with the final product and has all but disowned the film. Apparently, a large part of the problem came out of the way Harvey Weinstein wanted to handle Matt Damon’s nose.

Notice Matt Damon's nose? It's supposed to be long and fucked up looking, but when Harvey Weinstein heard that was what was going on, he forbade Gilliam from obscuring the star's face. When Gilliam ignored him, Harvey sent a guy to the set to actually step in front of the camera if Matt got on set with that fake nose on.

This is unfortunate. In fact, it stinks, pun completely intended. After his failed attempt to film The Man Who Killed Don Quixote (which resulted in this documentary), it’s a shame to see another possible masterwork - or at least a unique, non-formulaic film - raped by studio stupidity. Last I heard, this film was due out in late July or August, but with this sort of contested picture, one never knows.

A penny for your reelection campaign?

The New York Times has a slightly strange story about Ohio GOP activist and fundraiser Thomas Noe, Noe, a rare coin dealer, is now being investigated for the disappearance of as much as $13 million in funds from the Ohio Workers’ Compensation Bureau invested in a rare-coin fund that he controlled. True to form, the Democrats are spinning this as a morality tale about the dangers of one-party rule when it has about as much to do with single-party domination as it does with Revenge of the Sith’s box-office numbers.

Here’s a sample from the Times article:

Democrats have tried to turn the missing coins into a morality tale about the dangers of one-party government. Indeed, in Ohio it is hard to find anyone responsible for government problems who is not a Republican, since Republicans control not only the governor's office, but also the Legislature, the attorney general's office, the Supreme Court and the state auditor's office.

"One-party rule has made the Republicans much more sloppy in their corruption," said State Senator Marc Dann, a Democrat.

Of course it’s true that Republicans control the majority of the dominant political institutions, but what that has to do with the possible inappropriate actions of a single person is entirely unclear. Yes, Noe raised funds for the GOP, contributing to the campaigns of judges, governors and Senators, but the article gives no indication of how this might be linked to any possible illegal activities. Governor Bob Taft claimed to be “outraged, saddened and sickened,” saying that if Noe is guilty, “he should receive the most severe punishment possible.” Members of the Ohio Supreme Court helped by Noe’s funds have removed themselves from the case. Far from helping Noe, the Republican party is actively pushing him away.

Twisting this into some sort of referendum on one-party rule is a quixotic choice, as any illegal actions that Noe took seem to be apart from his party affiliations and likely would have happened regardless of the previous election outcomes. Ohio Democrats, it seems, are desperate for any opportunity to grab the microphone and, like a drunken first man at a wedding reception, make themselves the center of attention, even if it means babbling into incoherence.

DVD Duds Returns: Now, worse puns, more lowbrow!

The Aviator – Crashes and burns.

Are We There Yet – No, and watching this movie will just make it longer.

Pooh’s Heffalump Movie – I still think it’s funny that they named a children’s hero “Pooh.” I wonder if I could get rich off my own innocent, huggable stuffed protagonist named Crappy or Weener.

I, Robot: All-Access Collector’s Edition – Will Smith and company turn Isaac Asimov into Isuck ASSalot. Could they possibly have dumbed this down any more?

The Day After Tomorrow: The Collector’s Edition – The day after tomorrow is Memorial Day Sunday. I’m gittin’ DRUNK, bitch!...you know, to honor the military and stuff.

Back in the Day – We wuz dealin and dint have no tight ridez.

Law & Order: The Third Year – It’s strange to think that before Dick Wolf and his merry band of spinoffs came calling, we had no law or order in this country. I miss the good old days, when anarchy ruled and riots were a perfectly reasonable weekend activity. Seriously, how long has it been since you’ve enjoyed the fruits of a day spent looting or hung out with friends at a Molotov cocktail party?

The Andy Griffith Show: The Complete Second Season – [whistles theme song]

Through the Back Door – This 1921 film had no idea of the juvenile, gay, sexual implications its title would hold in future decades. Fortunately, I am here to exploit them now.

First Post: Now using blogger

I've switched from Pivot to Blogger as my blogging software of choice. Designing in Pivot was virtually impossible for this non-coder, and while Blogger isn't massively better, it offers more premade template options than I can mess around with. Some of the old posts may get reposted here rather quickly, but seeing as I didn't have a huge amount of content up (and the Calendar function on the old blog didn't work anyway), I'll mostly just be adding new content.