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Swift shot: Renoir has never fascinated me.  Impressionism as a rule is not my personal go-to when I enjoy art.  This was a challenge for me to let go of my apathy and immerse myself into a foreign film about an artistic style I don’t favor. For these types of films I only ask one thing, keep me interested, and Renoir did manage to do that.  But, the Renoir I was most interested in, was not Le Patron . . . rather his son, the solider.  Go figure.

Whenever delving into a biopic, I want to learn something new.  I want to make sure I leave after seeing the film a little wiser or more cultured.  For that reason, I give Renoir credit.  But, I learned very little about Pierre-Auguste Renoir (Michel Bouquet), and with the nuanced story-telling, I learned very little about Jean Renoir (Vincent Rottiers), or even Andree Heuschling (Christa Theret) for that matter.  But, what I did learn from watching Renoir is why his art was devoid of negativity and that his colors were meant to blend into an almost wispy blur of incoherence.  “The colors have to fuck,” as he puts it in the film.  And he makes a solid point that the world has enough black in it, as in darkness, so he wanted to leave the world with something beautiful.  I guess even non-enthusiastic fans would be hard pressed to say his art isn’t classically “beautiful” compared to the horrors of the world.

Alas, unlike what I was hoping, this is not the life story of Renoir, nor is it really the life story of anyone, it is a brief chapter of a family surrounded by death, living in a fantasia of color and purity . . . but there wasn’t enough.  It felt like the whole thing was rushed, which, after you see it’s plodding pace you may find yourself scratching your head on that statement.  But, what I mean is what was missing from Renoir was all the lines.  In his own words, Renoir explains it brilliantly, “It’s not about lines, it’s about the colors.”  Indeed, the colors and the chapters blend together to wash away characters that I might have wanted to know more about, if there were any real lines.

Renoir, directed by  Gilles Bourdos is about the famous artist’s last years, living and still painting in the French Riviera.   Set in 1915, Renoir uses the entrance of ingenue Andree as a new model to the Patron.

RENOIR will be opening FRIDAY at the Miami Dade College Tower Theater and the Living Room Cinema (Boca Raton)

Renoir is what you would expect of a French film about an artist surrounded by young, beautiful, naked women . . . it is about passion and love and sacrifice, but you will need to endure a lot of creative artistic cinematography to enjoy the film.  Some of the characters were ennuyeux, just a nuisance to the story really, and others should have been developed with more life.

Still, Renoir deserves special praise for balancing, albeit not flawlessly, an artist’s pain and fear as he tries to capture the last bright sunrises life has to offer before his canvass is torn.  And, if nothing else, watching it definitely earned me some cultural cool points.  There is nudity aplenty in this film, so be warned if that sort of thing offends you.  But, maybe you could lighten up a bit!  Impressionist students will get that joke!

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Fun-ish, but forgettable.

The H-Bomb: Master thief Will Montgomery (Nicolas Cage) is pulling a late night heist in New Orleans with his crew, including hothead Vincent (Josh Lucas) and the sultry Riley (Malin Akerman). It’s a ten million dollar job, the big retirement score for all involved. Everything seems to be going smoothly, but there’s just one teeny, tiny problem; the FBI, led by dogged agent Harlend (Danny Huston, rocking a Popeye Doyle porkpie hat), are lying in wait, ready to take Will and his team down. The feds make their move, things go terribly awry, and while the members of Will’s crew manage to escape, he himself is captured and sent away for eight years.

Upon his release, Will decides he’s going to go on the straight and narrow and leave his life of crime behind him for good. His first order of business is to try and reconnect with his teenage daughter, Alison (Sami Gayle) who he hasn’t seen since he was incarcerated. When he approaches her, he finds, much to his surprise and no one else’s, that she wants nothing to do with him or the stuffed animal he brought her. This disappointment, unfortunately, is soon going to be the very least of Will’s problems, as he is about to be contacted by his old associate, Vincent.

The years have not been kind to Vincent, as he now has a steel leg, due to something that happened during the heist, and is now driving a cab in order to make ends meet. He pretty much blames Will for how his life went to shit, and now that Will’s out of prison, Vincent figures it’s high time he collect his cut of the ten million that he thinks Will had stashed away before his capture. Only trouble is, Will didn’t stash the cash, he burned it to avoid a longer prison sentence, so there is no money to divide.

Understandably, Vincent has been hobbling around on a peg-leg for eight years and isn’t interested in Will’s excuses. So, pushed to desperate measures, he kidnaps Alison and sticks her in the trunk of his cab, then tells Will he has twelve hours to come up with the money, or else… Will knows what this psycho Vincent is capable of, and that if he ever wants to see his daughter again, he’ll have to put a big score together, and fast. As if that in and of itself isn’t difficult enough, he’ll have to pull it off under the watchful eye of his old FBI buddy, Harlend, all while the city of New Orleans celebrates Mardi Gras in the streets.

Before I get into my thoughts on Stolen, I should mention that aside from the title, and the basic premise of the lead character’s teenage daughter being kidnapped, this movie has jack diddly-dick to do with Taken. I’m aware that much has been said to the contrary, but trust me on this, the two films couldn’t be more different. While Taken was a surprisingly solid and stylized action flick, Stolen is much more of a routine, formulaic time killer, with a rather lazy, cliché ridden script, filled to the brim with one dimensional characters and reasonably absurd plot turns.

All that said, Stolen is not a bad film… well, not entirely. Sure, it is stupid as hell at times, but at a scant 96 minutes, the movie clips along at a brisk pace, features a somewhat inspired car chase through the crowded streets of New Orleans, and a handful of decent performances from its game cast.

Cage, who will pretty much do anything that’s sent his way these days, plays Will with a sense of conviction that actually got me to care about him as a character. Even though Cage, for financial reasons, has to whore himself out and take whatever he can get, I have yet to see him phone in a performance. Even in the stinkiest of stinkers, I can see that the guy is always trying, and here, like I said, he made me feel Will’s desperation and got me invested in him, even though the lame brained script seemed to be trying to do the exact opposite.

Another performer who manages to rise above the muck of this flimsy material is Lucas, who chews the scenery with psychotic glee as the unhinged Vincent. Looking like a deranged hippie who hasn’t bathed in about six years, Lucas brings a crazy-eyed intensity to the role that made him legitimately scary, with a real rage simmering under his scruffy surface. He truly gives a much better performance than this flick deserves.  As for other cast members, Huston does okay, but is more or less wasted as the cliched antagonistic cop character, as is Akerman, in an underwritten role as Will’s other old accomplice who comes to his aid late in the story.

Speaking of the story, you may have noticed I’ve taken some potshots at David Guggenheim’s screenplay, and with reason, because when it isn’t simply being a bland thriller that’s generic in the extreme, it’s just downright dumb, such as the contrived sequence when Alison gets away from her kidnapper and comes upon a large crowd of Mardi Gras party goers, only to get recaptured again because they all had their backs to her and couldn’t hear her cries for help. Then we’re supposed to swallow the notion that Will could actually plan and execute a multimillion dollar robbery in the span of a couple of hours. Poppycock. Pure, unbelievable poppycock.

Sometimes, with a script this lacking, a talented director can come along and give it a little extra oomph, like Brad Anderson with The Call. Sadly, Stolen is saddled with Simon West, of Con Air and Tomb Raider fame, a director I’ve always regarded as a hack, and his work here has done little to sway my opinion of him. It’s not that he does a bad job, per se, it’s just that aside from the car chase I’ve already mentioned, the action scenes are rather flat and unremarkable… kind of like the film itself.

And that really sums up how I feel about Stolen as a whole, it was watchable, even enjoyable in spots. But overall, it’s just incredibly meh. It made no dent whatsoever at the box office, and it doesn’t take a mastermind, criminal or otherwise, to understand why. Aside from a couple of stellar turns by Cage and Lucas, it’s a pretty mediocre flick that, unless you’re some kind of Nic Cage superfan, just isn’t really worth going out of your way to see. Although, thanks to the fine folks at Netflix, you don’t have to go out of your way to see it, as it is available via streaming, so if you are a Cage fan, or a connoisseur of dopey, goofy thrillers, then by all means, give it a go, you won’t be sorry… hell, in all likelihood, you won’t even remember it the day after you see it.

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“What in the name of Elvis is going on?”

The H-Bomb: Dave (Chase Williamson) and John (Rob Mayes) were just a couple of typical, twenty-something slackers when they came upon a new mind altering drug called Soy Sauce. A pitch black goo with hair growing out of it, Soy Sauce can “open doors to other worlds” by giving its users an array of psychic powers, as well as making them able to see things normal people cannot… like strange, otherworldly creatures. Other side effects of the Sauce include turning sausages into cellphones and doorknobs into dicks… but let’s not get into that.

Before Dave and John can fully wrap their tiny minds around the new powers this black gunk has given them, they find themselves in the middle of an outrageous plot that involves a full-on invasion of Earth by beings from an alternate dimension. Now, our un-dynamic duo, with their recently obtained extra-sensory abilities, find themselves in the most unenviable position of being the only ones who can stop it. You may want to step back, because shit is about to get freaky.

I kept the plot synopsis for John Dies at the End deliberately general, because if I tried to go into any real detail describing this thing, I would, in all likelihood, only confuse you. Sure, I could tell you about the demonic monster assembled from meat products, or the flying mustache bat creature, but you really need to see it for yourself for any of it to make even an iota of sense.

Based on a book by David Wong, John Dies at the End is brought to us by screenwriter/director Don Coscarelli, who has dabbled in the extreme abnormal in the past with his Phantasm films (of which there are four), as well as his goofy, but irresistible cult hit, Bubba Ho-Tep. As bizarre as those past flicks were, they ain’t got shit on this one. John Dies at the End is by far, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Coscarelli’s most all out bonkers film to date.

Imagine if someone were to drop Naked Lunch, Night of the Creeps, and any adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft into a blender and hit puree, this zany ass horror/sci-fi/comedy thing is what would probably come out. I don’t know how much of the material in here is Wong’s and how much is Coscarelli’s, but it seems like they both threw absolutely everything they could at the wall to see what would stick, and if something didn’t stick, they simply said, “Fuck it. We’ll make it stick, every last bit of it. Even if we have to use fucking super glue, it shall stick. Logic be damned.” This line of thinking has resulted in a genuine work of what-the-fuck cinema that even David Lynch would be proud of.

Granted, this is nowhere near as esoteric or confounding as a Lynch film, it’s still way the hell out there, and often makes no bloody sense whatsoever. But that’s fine, as it’s made clear from the off set that this takes place in a world where anything goes. Literally. We could call this lazy writing, an excuse for the author/filmmaker to just make any damn thing up as he goes, a way to give himself an easy out if he gets stuck story wise, and it probably is, but with a flick this wildly whacked out and unpredictable, not to mention this gruesomely fun, that I can let it slide.

What I can’t let slide, though, is the confusing beginning, a structurally jumbled mess of flashbacks and flash-forwards that’s all over the place, including a bit with a severed head and a broken axe that the film leaves hanging and never comes back to. Once it settles into its framing device with Dave telling his story to a reporter (Paul Giamatti, who also executive produced), all is well, but at first it comes off as scatter-shot and makes us feel a little lost as to where we are in the story.

While I’m complaining, I should also bring up that for a film this ambitious, and it gets pretty damn ambitious, it sports a very low budget, and at times it shows, particularly with the uneven special effects. When it sticks to practical effects, its all good, but when it goes the digital route, it’s like watching a computer game. There are some green screen shots in a cave that just reek of artificial cheese (seriously, is it that hard to film in an actual cave?). The most egregious of the lot, though, is when the film abruptly switches to animation in order to depict a large scale massacre. This, like Kill Bill Vol. 1, is the sort of flick where you can get away with that kind of thing, but the transition is jarring, and they obviously did it this way because they lacked the funds to do it practically.

But enough with my petty gripes, on to the cast, who have given me absolutely nothing to gripe about. Williamson, making his feature debut, plays Dave with just the right balance of sarcasm and bewilderment. We experience pretty much everything through his eyes, and he makes the character easy to relate to and pull for, despite the outrageous circumstances he finds himself in. Mayes, as the John of the title, makes this doofus stoner oddly endearing, even if he is a complete dunderhead. Giamatti brings some weight to the supporting cast as a reporter who isn’t what he seems, as does Clancy Brown, who is funny but underused as Marconi, a superstar televangelist/monster slayer. Fans of Phantasm are in for a particular treat, as a certain Tall Man makes a cameo as a demented priest.

All things considered, John Dies at the End may not be one of the best films of the past year, but it is certainly one of the most original, which should come as no surprise, as it is brought to us from the same director who, ten years ago, gave us an elderly Elvis Presley who is forced to do battle with a soul sucking Mummy in a Texas nursing home. While it doesn’t quite have the heart or charm of his Bubba Ho-Tep, John Dies at the End is every bit as absurdly entertaining, and Coscarelli does manage to somehow make it even more outrageous. On the heels of this, I am certainly curious to see what Coscarelli does next, I can only hope it doesn’t take him another ten years to do it.

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“You may call me Hitch, hold the cock.”

The H-Bomb: I should confess right off the cuff, I’m a sucker for movies about movie making. From 8 1/2, to Living in Oblivion, to Bowfinger, to one of my all time personal favorites, Ed Wood, I’ve always had a great interest in stories about the struggles of getting a film made. I also, like any true cinema aficionado, am an enormous admirer of the work of Alfred Hitchcock, in particular, his seminal 1960 masterpiece, Psycho. So naturally, when I caught wind that there was a film in the works on the making of Psycho, starring Anthony Hopkins as the master himself, my interest was piqued. It went right to the top of my must see list.

Then I began to hear the very mixed word of mouth about the film, with its detractors absolutely hating it, and my interest waned. Add to that the fact that it barely got a release, and failed to garner much notice during the awards season, and whatever hopes I had for this movie had pretty much eroded. They fucked it up. Somehow, they managed to fuck it up, although that no “No Talking, No Texting” PSA with Hopkins in his full Hitch get-up was pretty damn funny.

Anyhow, bearing the film’s buzz in mind, I, unenthusiastically, finally sat down to give Hitchcock a look, more or less to see how much of a train wreck it actually is, and as it happens, it’s not a train wreck at all. It’s certainly not as good as it could, or should, have been, and it’s easy to understand why many were underwhelmed by it, but it is far from being the absolute stink bomb that some have made it out to be.

Based on the book by Stephen Rebello, Hitchcock begins with the release of North by Northwest, which is met with mostly lukewarm reviews, and with people suggesting that Hitch, who is 60, has lost his touch. Determined to prove that he still possesses the power to shock and terrify, Hitch becomes obsessed with a novel that is loosely inspired by real-life mama’s boy-turned-killer, Ed Gein, and decides that will be his next project. That project is, of course, Psycho, and getting it made will be considerably more difficult than Hitch anticipates, as the bosses at Paramount see it as nothing more than a trashy horror flick, and refuse to back it.

Not one to be easily deterred, Hitch goes to his wife and number one collaborator, Alma Reville (Helen Mirren, in the film’s best performance), and talks her into mortgaging their home in order to fund the film himself. But money isn’t the only thing troubling Hitch, he also has to deal with the censor’s board (the head of which is played by a hilariously stuffy Kurtwood Smith) who make it clear that no nudity or graphic violence will fly with them. Needless to say, this master of suspense will have to be a bit creative when it comes to filming a certain scene set in a shower.

As if the hassles of bringing Psycho to the screen aren’t enough, Hitch also has to contend with his personal troubles with Alma. The burden of funding the film themselves has put a strain on the marriage, as they’ve grown distant from each other, and her once playful barbs towards him are now sounding more and more malicious. Worst of all is a new writing project Alma has started with writer Whitfield Cook (Danny Huston), with whom she is spending a great deal of time with at a secluded beach house, where Hitch suspects they’re up to a lot more than just writing.

When things become too much for Hitch to handle, he turns to the company and advice of his new imaginary friend… Ed Gein (Michael Wincott). Will our director, plagued by insecurity and self-doubt, be able to complete his film with his marriage, career, and sanity intact? Or will he go completely psycho? Unfortunately, we already know the answers to those questions.

And therein lies the rub; we know how Psycho is going to turn out, we know how everything will turn out… and that kinda, sorta kills whatever suspense, or uncertainty, that the film hopes to build. This issue is compounded by John J. McLaughlin’s script, and Sacha Gervasi’s stylish-but-breezy direction, which lack any kind of dramatic momentum. Sure, there’s behind-the-scenes shenanigans and scene recreations from Psycho to amuse film nerds, and we do get to see some of Hitch’s obsessive, perfectionist quirks emerge as he makes a movie, but dramatically speaking, there’s nothing here to really make us care.

The conflict between Hitch and his wife over whether or not she’s having an affair is obviously meant to be the film’s dramatic crux, but since the film makes the answer to that question clear early on, without a shadow of a doubt, it’s ineffective. Perhaps if the filmmakers handled it with a little more ambiguity, some actual tension could have been wrung from it, but alas, there is none. This is also the case when we see Hitchcock fretting over how Psycho will turn out, because, again, we all know how it turns out.

The overall lack of dramatic weight aside, my other major issue is with the performances. Not that they were bad, per se, it’s simply that, for me, most of the actors never became the people they were supposed to be. When I looked at Scarlett Johansson as Janet Leigh, I didn’t see Janet Leigh, I saw Scarlett Johansson made up to look like her. And when I looked at Anthony Hopkins, I didn’t see Alfred Hitchcock, I merely saw Anthony Hopkins in a fat suit and facial prosthesis. What’s worse is that his performance didn’t seem like a performance so much as merely a shallow impersonation. From an actor of Hopkins’ stature, I really expected more.

Perhaps I’m not being fair, as I’m so used to watching the real people that I just can’t accept these impersonators. No matter, this is still a very flawed film. That’s not to say, though, that it’s a bad one, as it is light as a feather and goes down pretty easy. As a movie buff, I was fairly entertained by all the cutesy little references and in-jokes contained in the film. But that’s the problem, it’s a movie for movie buffs, and movie buffs only. It’s full of winks, nods, homages, and little more. There’s no compelling drama to speak of, nor is there even any real insight into Alfred Hitchcock, the man, the myth, or the legend. Because of that, Hitchcock, as a whole, comes off as flat, superficial, and inconsequential.

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QUESTION AUTHORITY!

Question Authority!

Swift shot:  In the 70′s, Yale University (where else?) conducted a now infamous experiment on obedience, you can read all about the Milgram Experiment here.  Essentially, it proved that people were all too willing, given the slightest bit of authority, to punish or otherwise control their fellow man.  I heard about the McDonald’s “prank call” event a few years ago, where a caller pretended to be an officer and manipulated a store manager into performing a strip-search on one of her female employees. Compliance, directed by Craig Zobel gives you a chilling behind-the-scenes look at this American tragedy.  Why is it a tragedy? Because it illustrates how easily controlled, and stupid, we have become as a nation.

Ann Dowd plays ChickWich (AKA McDonald’s) store manager, Sandra, who has the spine of a flatworm!  In the audience’s introduction to her, we see how she lets a subservient humiliate her . . . and she doesn’t stand up to her bully.  She is the perfect patsy for what happens next.  And, mind you, the entire film you will be practically screaming at the screen . . . oh, COME ON, no one is that stupid, that easily fooled, that so willing to . . . comply.  But, stick around for the final credits for a chilling surprise of just how many people are in fact incredibly . . . compliant.

Sandra has a busy Friday ahead of her, and someone left the cooler open the night before and all the bacon was ruined.  There is a secret-shopper expected at the store, and with no pickles and no bacon, Friday is not going to be a fun night.  She barely manages to control her young workers, chiefly Becky, Kevin and Connie.  Lucky she has Marti (Ashlie Atkinson) as a kind of go-between, but even Marti doesn’t possess enough backbone to say what everyone should be saying throughout the film.  “NO!”  And, this isn’t just a film, it is a dramatic re-enactment of actual events.

An “Officer Daniels” is on the phone asking to speak to the store manager.  Sandra speaks to him as he explains that one of her employees stole from a customer’s purse and is describing one of her employees to him.  The description matches Becky (Dreama Walker) a thin, blonde 19 year old who is working the register.  He asks Sandra to go get Becky and bring her to the backroom.  Sandra . . . complies.

Officer Daniels explains that Sandra needs to search Becky for the missing money, and Becky at first says no, but then the Officer asks to speak to Becky.  Using the threat of jail time on Becky, he convinces her that if she has nothing to hide she won’t mind, and if she did do it, she’ll be behind bars longer as he will make sure to note that she didn’t cooperate.  Becky . . . complies.  Sandra searches Becky’s apron and her pockets.  Of course, there is nothing.  Not convinced, the Officer instructs Sandra to escort Becky to her employee locker and confiscate her cellphone and search her purse for the money.  Becky and Sandra . . . comply.  So far, Becky’s civil rights have been violated twice, and she is nervous, but afraid this Officer holds some power over her, she doesn’t raise that much of a fuss.

Sandra, being a perfect sap, follows the next instruction which is to have Becky wait for him to arrive. But, there is one more thing he needs before he can show up.  He needs Sandra to strip-search Becky. Instead of consulting the store manual, Sandra (who thinks the Officer is also speaking to her Regional Manager on the other line) . . . complies.  Becky wants NO part of this, this has gone on long enough, but like a church-mouse, she only manages a feeble defense when Sandra puts her on the phone with Officer Daniels.  Sandra and Becky . . . comply.

She is down to her skivvies now, humiliated and frightened . . . at this point, the film shifts to where you always knew it was going.  A Sub-Dom fantasy is being created before your eyes, as Officer Daniels is controlling not just Sandra, and not just Becky, but everyone who gets sent to the backroom.

Ultimately, what happens next should only ever happen in those fantasies, where reality should kick in and everyone should say . . . “NO!”  But, Officer Daniels chose the perfect target, and even he can’t believe his luck as by the film’s end, “bad things” surpassing a mere strip-search happen to Becky.

Dreama Walker is spectacular under Zobel’s direction.  She literally looks like a scared, scarred fawn, with large eyes and a frail frame.  She is terrified, and she gives herself to the role in a way that is completely off-putting.

The tension in this film is real, backed by the fact that this event actually happened, it is a chilling commentary on how easy it is to manipulate the meek.

I was really impressed with Craig Zobel’s direction, it was strangely akin to Refn in execution.  The music was almost like a dirge to common sense, which was sadly lacking in most of the characters in the film. Zobel used a lot of close-up work, and each actor really delivered a credible performance, maybe with the exception of Kevin (Phillip Ettinger).  His performance was not as genuine as the other cast members.

For obvious reasons, this is a film not intended for younger audiences, but it serves as a reminder to that most sacred of American ideals . . . freedom is not just some buzz word.  It is only real if you understand that it applies to you.  You are allowed to question authority – in fact, you should question how those people even GOT authority in the first place!

If you don’t watch this film, at least brush off the Bill of Rights and realize that you have them.  You have a right to deny illegal detainment, illegal search and seizure and you sure as hell have a right to keep your private parts, private.  The day we let compliance over-rule freedom is the day we’re trapped in not a fantasy, but a nightmare!

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Flawed, but compelling and important.

The H-Bomb:  Bullying is one of the more unpleasant aspects of childhood, I don’t think there is anyone who will argue with that.  For many out there, it’s a sad fact of life, a pain in the ass that’s an inherent part of growing up.  Just about anyone who has experienced bullying firsthand will tell you, it is no fun to endure.  Have I ever been bullied in my life?  Well, I was a fat kid for most of my childhood, so what do you think?  Bullying is something that has gone on for as long as anyone can remember, but over the last few years, it has become more and more of a societal concern, mainly due to the number of kids who have committed suicide because, apparently, they were being bullied relentlessly.  The number of bully-related suicides have grown to near epidemic levels, and parents, teachers, and entire communities seem to be at a loss as to what to do about it.

With the documentary, Bully, filmmaker Lee Hirsch attempts to examine the effects of bullying by following three subjects; Twelve-year-old Alex, a geeky introvert who is both physically and verbally abused by kids on his school bus, and is pretty much friendless at school, sixteen-year-old Kelby, who has been ostracized from her entire Oklahoma town ever since she came out as a lesbian, and fourteen-year-old Ja’Maya, who is in deep legal doo-doo after bringing her mom’s gun onto her school bus and threatening her classmates with it.

The film also introduces us to David and Tina Long, whose eldest son Tyler took his own life at the age of seventeen because of bullying, as well as Kirk Smalley, the father of another bullied child, twelve-year-old Ty, who also committed suicide.  The movie cuts back and forth between these people, as we observe the kids trying to cope with the constant torment, and the adults, parents and various school administrators, as they try, seemingly in vain, to combat this problem.

If I were to give out ratings to films based solely on good intentions, then Bully would earn six out of five stars, easily.  As an indictment of bullying, it is pretty powerful stuff.  It tugs on your heart strings, it pushes your emotional buttons.  When you watch it, you won’t be able to help feeling sad for the awkward-but-sweet Alex when you see what he has to put up with day in and day out, or for the two sets of parents when they talk about the children they’ve lost.  You’ll vacillate between frustration and anger as you watch various school officials refusing to deal with the problem by either saying “boys will be boys” or going into complete denial- there’s an absolutely bubble-headed, brain-dead bimbo bitch of an assistant principal in here who is so fucking inept at resolving bullying issues that you’ll just want to take a fucking crowbar to her head.  Not to hurt her, mind you, just to knock some Goddamn sense into her.

As far as eliciting emotions from the viewer goes, Bully succeeds in spades, there’s no denying that.  It also gets the job done in terms of bringing awareness to the issue of bullying, how truly harmful it can be to the victims, and how it most definitely should not be tolerated.  It more than gets all of that across.  However, when it comes to examining the issue in any kind of deep or truly meaningful way, that is, sadly, where Bully falls short.  Way, way short.

Yes, we see the effects of bullying from the point of view of a few victims and their families, all cherry-picked from rural parts of the heartland.  Unfortunately, that’s just about all we see, and that is the egregious flaw of this documentary- its scope, its focus, is way too narrow.  Other critics have pointed this out, and having seen the film myself, I can say they are absolutely right.  There are so many other angles to this issue, so many other points-of-view, that a comprehensive documentary would have included, but this one simply does not.

Why are there not any child psychologists interviewed in the film, to shed light on why kids bully each other?  Do they do it out of insecurity?  An undeveloped sense of empathy?  Because they themselves are abused at home?  For the lulz?  Why?  Another question that’s never explored, why is it that even though bullying has been around since the dawn of man, only in recent years have children started committing suicide because of it?  Does it have to do with the prevalence of online social networks, like Facebook, where bullying can now follow kids home from school?  Also, if the purpose of this documentary is, in part, to understand bullying, why not interview a bully?  Follow him around, see what his day to day life is like, at school and at home, and see if we can understand why he’s compelled to pick on and torment other kids.  The film never does that.

Another problem with the movie is that it fails to give equal time to its subjects.  The film primarily follows Alex, he’s the one we get to know the best.  We actually see him get picked on while riding the school bus (thanks to an apparently hidden camera) and at recess, as kids punch him in the arms and back, call him names, and even threaten to kill him.  We also watch him at home, as his parents, who know he’s having problems, try to talk to him, and his inability to open up and communicate with them.

Kelby and Ja’Maya aren’t covered nearly as much, and therefore, we don’t come to understand their situations nearly as well.  Kelby talks about the way she’s been treated at school since coming out, but we never see any of this.  In fact, the only townsfolk we see her interact with are her friends, of which she has quite a few.  As for Ja’Maya, all we ever find out about her bullying experiences were that kids on the bus were always calling her “stupid,” which in and of itself just doesn’t sound like enough to drive her into taking a gun onto the bus.  Yet, that’s all we’re ever told.  Pretty weak, pretty damn weak.

However, while Bully is plagued by numerous flaws, ultimately, its intentions do overcome its imperfections.  It’s meant to strike an emotional chord in the audience and to get us thinking about this societal ill, and that it does.  It will make you mad, it will make you sad, it will make you want to reach out and punch someone (like that idiot assistant principal).  You’d have to be one heartless bastard (and in all likelihood, a bully yourself) in order to walk out of this one without being moved.  If you’re a parent, then Bully is a must see.  In fact, it should be required by law that every parent, and every school age child in this country see this movie.  Like the ads for those HBO after school specials used to go, “See it with your kids, see it for your kids.”

(2 People gave this 2.00 out of 5)

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Enough already!

The H-Bomb: I’m just going to cut right to it, here, Paranormal Activity 4 is what you get when you take a movie franchise that is fueled only by one single idea, one single gimmick, and just run it completely into the ground. It starts to feed off itself, cannibalize itself, just recycling the same old shit until it stops being a valid continuation of the original film, and just becomes a half-assed knock off, instead.

So it went with the Saw films, so it goes for Paranormal Activity. In the beginning, I was a fan, as the first film is one of the very, very few horror movies to actually scare me as an adult. It was a simple concept, a young couple videotaping their encounters with a demonic entity, who like any demonic entity, is tormenting and terrorizing them for the lulz. While the story was basic, it was also chocked full of moments that were truly unnerving, and was overall just creepy as hell. A rare example of a found footage flick that actually worked.

Then came the inevitable sequel that did essentially the same thing, only not nearly as effectively. It expanded on the back story a bit, but that aside, it was more or less an inferior repeat of the first movie. With the third film, the same exact formula was followed, and it was starting to get pretty damn tired. When I finished with Paranormal Activity 3, I figured they stretched this one concept as far as it could be stretched, and any movies after this will just be contrived rehashes of what came before.

And having now sat through all 95 minutes of Paranormal Activity 4, I can say emphatically, I was right, Goddamn it! This fourth installment, which thankfully I passed up in theaters, brings absolutely nothing new to the table, and gives us nothing we haven’t already seen. Just more things going bump in the night, more objects being moved by themselves, more possessed people acting oddly… more of the fucking same. Except this time, none of it is scary. Not in the slightest.

It starts with a recap of the earlier films, where possessed Katie Featherston kills her boyfriend, her sister’s husband, her sister, and disappears with her sister’s baby. Some six years pass, we are now in a nice, quiet Nevada suburb, where we meet our hero, an obnoxious bubble-headed blonde teenybopper, who, for no apparent reason, videotapes every damn thing that happens in her life. Recently, a single “mother” and her six-year-old “son” moved into the house across the street from her. Would I really be spoiling anything if I told you who these two really are? Anyhow, the “mother” is never around, and the “son” is… weird.

How is this little boy weird? Well, aside from looking like Damien from The Omen, he’s very quiet, he tends to suddenly appear in places, and has a habit of standing in a single spot and staring off blankly. Little Miss Teenybopper is particularly disconcerted when she’s told that the boy’s mother was injured in an accident and has to go to the hospital, and that he’s going to come stay over at her house. Soon after his arrival, the typical paranormal shit, the kind we’ve come to expect, starts happening.

Little Miss Teenybopper is convinced that this brat has “brought something into the house,” but her parents, who are your average, dense-headed horror movie parents, will hear none of it, despite chandeliers falling from ceilings and other such abnormalities. The only person who does believe her is her grinning, dumb-ass baboon of a boyfriend, and the two of them concoct a plan using all the cameras on every computer in the house (conveniently, there’s a computer in practically every room), to try and catch some supernatural shit. From there, a Paranormal Activity movie ensues…

And that, dear readers, is something I really can’t stress enough. You have seen this movie done before, and done way, way, way better. Where there was once genuine creepiness and tension, there is only boring padding, unimaginative plotting, and exceptionally bad acting (even by this series’ standards). And did I say boring? I’m sorry, what I meant to say was FUCKING BORING. Endless sequences of us looking into empty rooms, waiting for something, anything, to happen. Sadly, with the exception of the occasional jump scare, nothing really does. Now, as you know, I normally hate jump scares, but in this case, I actually welcomed them, because this time they were the only things keeping me awake. I can only imagine, if Princess Coppola ever directed a horror movie, it would be something like this… I shudder at the thought.

In all seriousness, though, Paranormal Craptivity 4 serves as undeniable proof that there is nowhere new for this series to go, nothing new to be added to it, and, aside from nefarious cash-grab motives on the part of the studio, no damn reason for any more of these movies to be made. There is certainly no reason for you to see this, or any future installments that may (and most likely will) come along. Your time would be better spent re-watching the original, because all the real scares were squeezed out of this cash cow about two movies ago, and now the time has come to put it out to pasture.

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Batman: The Dark Knight Returns, Part 1

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“I’m your worst nightmare.  The kind that makes you cry out for your mother.”

The H-Bomb:  It’s been ten years since Bruce Wayne (Peter Weller) hung up his bat suit and bid adieu to crime fighting for good.  The 53-year-old billionaire now spends his days driving race cars and his nights swilling down scotch with his old ally, Commissioner James Gordon (David Selby), who’s about to join him in retirement.  Now a melancholy type, Wayne has resigned himself to simply sit by and watch as his beloved Gotham City has gone completely to shit over the past decade… and it’s only getting worse.

A new gang of hoods, the Mutants, lead by some gigantic, muscle-headed meatball with razor sharp teeth, have been raising hell all over the place, and have started to gain a real foothold in the city.  While that’s going on, Harvey “Two-Face” Dent (Wade Williams), has supposedly been rehabilitated, complete with surgery that fixed his facial disfigurement, and is being released from Arkham Asylum.  Unfortunately, almost immediately upon being set free, Dent goes right back to his old ways, creating even more mayhem in a city that has already seen more than its fair share of it.

Wayne can no longer stand on the sidelines.  His conscience, his nightmares, won’t let him.  So, against the wishes of his faithful butler, Alfred, as well as the warnings of his own aging body, Wayne dusts off the cape and cowl, and swings back into action, letting the scumbags of Gotham know that they do have something to fear.  The Batman’s return is met with a mixed reaction from the public, as pundits on the tube debate whether his return will help or harm the war on crime.

One Gothamite who’s glad to see him back is Carrie Kelley (Ariel Winter), a young teenage girl who has had her fill of the Mutants terrorizing her city.  Inspired by the Dark Knight’s comeback, she goes out to take on some crooks of her own.  Of course, Carrie has no clue what she’s doing, and in all likelihood will only get herself killed with her foolish antics.  However, if the Batman were to take her under his wing, and teach her a thing or two, she could have potential.  Maybe, just maybe, he’ll find a valuable partner in her…

Just when we thought we were all done with Batman, the fine folks at Warner Premiere hit us with this animated film adaptation of the first half of The Dark Knight Returns, the groundbreaking 1986 graphic novel by Frank Miller and Klaus Janson.  The surface similarities between this and Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight Rises are apparent.  They both start with an older Batman, who’s not quite what he used to be, coming back after a lengthy absence.  Both also feature a key plot point in which Batman is forced to confront a physically superior opponent and end up the worse for it.

There are other little bits and pieces that Nolan stuck in as homage, as The Dark Knight Returns is an obvious source of inspiration for the concluding chapter of his Batman trilogy.  The two works, however, are entirely different.  Nolan’s film is somber, dark, and set in a realistic looking universe.  Miller’s story, while dark, is not so much somber as it is satirical, as the politics of having someone like Batman in society, and the debate that would bring about, as well as how such epidemic levels of crime should be fought, are all brought to the forefront.  Miller makes it clear, from how events play out, which side he is on, as the liberal “appeasers” are presented as a bunch of double-talking candy asses who are dangerously naive and completely out of touch with reality.

This political “subtext” is so present and “in your face” that whether or not you agree with Miller’s stance could actually affect your enjoyment of the film.  Me, I don’t feel too strongly one way or the other about it, as I had a helluva lot of fun with this cynical interpretation of the Batman universe.  It’s an intelligently written, surprisingly bloody (parents take note) work that manages to both feel fresh and unique, while honoring this classic character at the same time.  Its pacing is perfect, telling a fairly epic story without ever feeling sluggish or bloated, and the animation, while obviously not Pixar quality, is still beautiful nonetheless.  See this in high def, if you have the capabilities.

As far as the voice acting goes, everyone is good enough, though there is merely one standout among them, Batman himself, as voiced by Weller (the original, and only true Robocop).  His voice is aged, yet strong, with a wise, authoritarian air to it, which makes him perfect for an older Bruce Wayne, and he can sound menacing as hell when he wants to, which makes him perfect for an older Batman.  There’s one scene, in which Batman comes crashing through a wall and grabs a perp from behind, that I could swear is a direct homage to a scene in Robocop.  I haven’t read the graphic novel, so I don’t know if it’s in there or if it was something the filmmakers stuck in to honor Mr. Weller, but either way, I got a nice little kick out it.

[H-Man Trivia: Frank Miller co-wrote the screenplays for Robocop 2 and Robocop 3]

Do I have any issues with the movie?  Yeah, a couple of minor ones… very minor.  There’s a point where Batman picks up a gun and shoots a thug with it.  Granted, he only shoots to wound, but we all know this is still completely out of character for him, as Batman is second only to MacGyver as the hero who hates firearms.  Another problem I had is that the whole Harvey Dent subplot seems peripheral to everything else in the film, and the character disappears way too soon.  He either should have been more essential to the central plot, or not in it at all.

My biggest issue would be that this is Batman: The Dark Knight Returns, Part 1, meaning that this is only the first half of the story.  Not a terribly huge gripe, as it does, to an extent, work just fine as a stand alone film, as opposed to say, Kill Bill, Vol. 1, which I do love, but it feels like half a movie.  This one doesn’t have that problem, it’s just that I found it so immensely entertaining, I didn’t want it to end.  Though, I must say, it does end with a fantastic cliffhanger, re-introducing an old friend of Bats, that provides a thrilling set-up for Part 2.  Speaking of Part 2, let me get back to you on that…right now!

Batman: The Dark Knight Returns, Part 2

Hero non grata.

The H-Bomb:  Three months after making his triumphant return, the geriatric Batman (Peter Weller), and his new Girl Wonder, Carrie (Ariel Winter), continue to wage their war on crime as TV pundits endlessly debate as to whether the Caped Crusader is a hero or a menace.  A new street gang of Bat-inspired vigilantes, the Sons of Batman, has risen to “help” rid the city of its criminal element.  Unfortunately, they’re just a pack of thugs who are every bit as ruthless as the felons they fight, and they’ve only added fuel to the fire that Batman is part of the problem and not the solution.

The mounting pressure to do something about the Dark Knight is being felt on every level of Government, from Gotham’s new Police Commissioner, Ellen Yindel (Maria Canals-Barrerra), all the way up the State and Federal ladders to the Gipper himself (!), who calls in a “special friend” to handle the situation.  But they shouldn’t be too hasty, as Batman’s reemergence has woken the Joker (Michael Emerson) out of years of catatonia, and now he’s on the loose, and reeking all kinds of mass destruction.

This puts Batman in quite a bind, as he has to not only contend with a hostile police force, more determined than ever to take him down, but also battle his lifelong arch-nemesis one last time.  Let’s not forget the president’s “special friend,” who may be too much even for Batman to handle.  Bats, you are getting way too old for this shit.

Batman: The Dark Knight Returns, Part 1 flat out kicked ass when it landed on DVD/Blu back in October, and after three long months, we finally have the concluding half to this epic animated feature based on the Frank Miller/Klaus Janson graphic novel.  Since I truly dug the first part of Miller’s take on Batman’s golden years, I was mucho excited to see how the rest of this saga would play out.  So, having now taken in Part 2, I can certainly say I liked it… but not as much as Part 1.  Most of it worked, but there were some aspects of the story, in particular the direction it took, that I simply didn’t agree with.

But I’ll get to my hang-ups in a moment.  Let me just say, if you’re a fan of the graphic novel, or of the first half of this film adaptation, or of Batman in general, then this is, without a doubt, requisite viewing.  You will enjoy it, that I can guarantee.  It takes the darkly satirical tone of the first part and goes even further with it.  Yeah, the blind-to-reality hippies are still lampooned, but so is Reagan and the policies of his government during the Cold War.  Yes, this definitely dates the story, but some will relish that the Right is forced to consume as much crow as the Left, this time around.

Like with Part 1, this one moves at a swift pace, while never feeling rushed, and clocks in at a lean 76 minutes. The fact that both movies are under eighty minutes does make me question why it needed to be split in two (aside from obvious financial double-dipping motives).  Some say it’s an animated film aimed at kids, and therefore, for the sake of the children’s limited attention spans, it should be kept short.

Yeah… let’s just examine that claim for a moment, shall we?  One poor sap gets his throat cut with a broken coffee mug, while another fool gets his head crushed by roller coaster gears, and yet another sucker has his eye put out with a Batarang… yeah, this movie is for kids… and Larry Flynt publishes children’s books!  I’m not complaining about the violence, that’s partly what makes these animated flicks work, but like the live action Nolan films, these are absolutely, positively, 100% not for children.

Speaking of Christopher Nolan, it’s interesting to see, just like in Part 1, how influential this graphic novel was to The Dark Knight Rises, and how Nolan appropriated a number of the book’s elements, and weaved them into his film.  One may also notice things that Tim Burton lifted and used his 1989 Batman film, such as the Joker’s chosen method of terrorizing Gotham City.

While I’m on the topic of the Joker, I should point out that Emerson does a fiendishly good job of voicing the legendary villain.  He’s not quite on the same level as Mark Hamill in terms of Joker voice actors, but he’s stellar, nonetheless.  I loved how the final confrontation between the Clown Prince and the Bat played out, with one fiery image that is simply haunting, but I didn’t love that the Joker is merely the secondary villain who’s story thread is resolved roughly halfway through the movie.

The movie’s main villain, or more appropriately, antagonist, is someone else from the DC Comics universe, someone who has crossed over with Batman before.  And now we arrive at my main beef with the story, the direction I really wish it hadn’t taken.  Now, I don’t know how I can go into this, or identify this antagonist without violating iRatefilms’ No Spoilers law, so I’ll merely say he’s not a bird, he’s not a plane.

I have a number of problems here.  First, while there have been past crossovers, I personally feel that these two characters should never share the same universe, because a world that had this unnameable hero would have no need for Batman.  That’s a general gripe.  Something that bugged me about his involvement in this particular story, is that we’re supposed to believe that Batman, an old and feeble Batman at that, could actually hold his own in a fist fight with this character.  Sorry, Mr. Miller, but NO!  Even if he is wearing a special robot/armored suit thing, the answer is still NO!  Come on!

My issues with the movie’s latter section aside, I found Batman: The Dark Knight Returns, Part 2 a satisfying, entertaining conclusion to Miller’s dark, mature, and slightly off kilter version of one of the most complex and intriguing comic book heroes ever created.  The graphic novel was considered revolutionary back in the 80′s, and if you loved Nolan’s films, and want to see where those more or less came from, then this two-parter, along with 2011′s Batman: Year One, is absolutely worth seeing.

(1 People gave this 1.00 out of 5)

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Say what, David?

The H-Bomb:  28-year-old Wall Street billionaire Eric Packer (Robert Pattinson) is in for one hell of a day.  His latest investment proved to be a not so wise one, as he stands to lose his entire fortune, and his security detail has just informed him that a credible threat has been made against his life.  Upon receiving all this wonderful news, Packer decides to do what anyone in his situation would… go across town for a haircut.  The only hitch is, the U.S. President happens to be in town, and his visit is causing traffic jams all over the place.

This does nothing to sway Packer’s plan of action, as he absolutely must have his haircut from this very specific barber.  So, climbing into the back of his super pimped-out stretch limousine, the inside of which looks like a space ship, Packer begins his surreal, daylong odyssey across NYC to the barbershop.  Along the way, he encounters an eclectic mix of colleagues, acquaintances, and lovers- all played by a variety of familiar faces- as well as his ice queen of a wife (Sarah Gadon).

Most of these people appear abruptly inside his limo, with no explanation offered as to how they got there, and spout mouthfuls of Greek Salad about his shrinking fortune, the economy, the future, the past, technology, sex, philosophy, anti-capitalist protesters, and God only knows what else.  For most of these incomprehensible, mind numbing exchanges, Edwar… ahem, Eric remains perched upon his thrown in the back of his space limo, sucking down cocktails, banging his mistress, and having his asymmetrical rectum examined by a visiting physician,  all while he ponders one of the universe’s biggest mysteries: Where do limos go at night when they’re done driving people like him around?

Occasionally, Packer does leave the “safety” of his vehicle, to either meet his wife in some restaurant or another, or hook up with a hooker in some hotel.  Occasionally he will venture out into the street, where people fire guns at him when they’re not inexplicably throwing pies in his face.  What could all this possibly mean?  I know not, I care not.  I just wish he would get to the Goddamn barber’s already!

How one reacts to David Cronenberg’s latest film, Cosmopolis, based on Don DeLillo’s novel of the same name, will depend on what kind of person they are.  The artsy-farts will praise it for being “ingeniously” indecipherable, while normal people will absolutely fucking hate it because it is so utterly indecipherable.  How did I feel about Cosmopolis?  Frankly, I felt like the guy from Scanners… ya know, the one whose head exploded.  In other words, this indulgently talky head trip sent my brain into a complete and total meltdown, due to a massive overload of bullshit.  For much of the picture, I had no clue what these weirdos were blathering about, and worse than that, I didn’t care enough to even try and keep up with it.

As an enormous fan of Cronenberg’s, particularly of his more “out there” films, I really hoped that Cosmopolis would be a return to form for him after A Dangerous Method, which was disappointingly flat.  By about ten minutes in, all such hopes were dashed.  That’s about how long it takes for this circle-jerk of suck to turn completely intolerable.  If I were to liken Cosmopolis to any of Cronenberg’s past works, I would say that it’s a hybrid of Crash (1996) and Naked Lunch, which oddly enough are my two favorite Cronenberg films.  From that, it would stand to reason that I would love Cosmopolis, right?  Well, sometimes reality defies reason, as I did not like Cosmopolis… not one bit.

Now, I’ve already encountered some film snots out there who call this movie “brilliant,” and who claim that anyone who speaks ill of it just “didn’t get it.”  You know what, fine, I didn’t fucking get it.  Does that automatically make me stupid?  Okay then, I’m stupid.  So, with my stupidity firmly established, this film still sucks.  Between Cronenberg and the other director named David who makes strange, abstract films, there have been plenty of movies that I absolutely loved, even though I didn’t entirely “get” them.  I loved them because, while I didn’t necessarily understand everything, I still found them provocative, captivating, and intriguing.  They made me want to keep watching, so I could ponder and try to decipher them.

Cosmopolis is not provocative, or captivating, or intriguing.  Instead, it’s a tedious, hour and forty-something minute long parade of “people” (no one here is playing a human being, let’s be clear on that) spitting out a shit-load of stilted, wannabe philosophical drivel masquerading as social commentary about contemporary American society… at least that’s my best educated guess.  It’s not at all stimulating or interesting, but merely pompous, pretentious, and dull.  Worst of all, it comes off as insufferably smug, as everyone is way too pleased with themselves for how clever they seem to think they are.  Sorry to break it to you, folks, but being incoherent does not make you clever… quite the opposite, in fact.

What passes for an actual plot in this poppycock is just pathetic.  Random shit happening randomly for random reasons.  Protesters fling dead rats around while chanting empty slogans, why?  Packer gets a pie slammed into his face, why?  Packer blows his security chief’s brains out, why?  Why?  Why?  Why?  Wish I could tell you.  This whole fucking thing is less like genuine Cronenberg, and more like some film school freshman trying to be Cronenberg, just being weird for weirdness sake, while pretending to make a profound statement of some kind.  The result is both sad and painful.  Fucking Christ on his rubber cross did I loathe this bullshit movie!

Normally I would say at least the actors managed to somewhat salvage this worthless cock-cheese, but no… not really.  This is meant to show us that Pattinson is a “real actor” and not just some pouty male model. Yeah, that didn’t happen.  He’s still doing the Edward thing, except not emo so much as simply emotionless.  I know, his pampered character is meant to be numb, detached, and bored with the world around him, but he just comes off as boring.  The supporting cast, which includes Juliette Binoche, Mathieu Amalric, Jay Baruchel, and Samantha Morton, don’t fair much better, as they all basically get one scene each, where they spew out impenetrable gobbledygook.  I just wanted them all to shut up and go away.

Of all the actors, the only one who really earns his payday is Paul Giamatti, who shows up late in the show as Packer’s would-be assassin.  Basically, the last twenty minutes of the movie belong to him, he rocks it, and he almost brings this frozen corpse of a movie to life.  His performance alone managed to raise my rating up by half a star… for whatever that’s worth.

On a technical level, Cosmopolis is an impeccably crafted picture.  The cinematography, by regular Cronenberg crony Peter Suschitzky, is beautiful… perhaps his finest work, I would venture to say.  He does an incredible job of painting with light and color, giving everything an appropriately heightened look, and the meticulously composed angles have a very Kubrickian vibe to them.  I also like Howard Shore’s score for the film, and that giant rat marionette thing was fun to look at for the few seconds it was on screen… that about does it for the likes.

I know my art house street cred may take a hit for not liking Cosmopolis, but I gots to keep it real, I absolutely despised it on almost every conceivable level.  (For the record, I gave The Tree of Life a positive review, and my favorite film is Blue Velvet, so I think my art house street cred is just fine.)  I love the bulk of Cronenberg’s filmography, so this review was particularly difficult to write.  Cosmopolis looked like it was going to be a welcome throwback to “Depraved” Cronenberg, but it just played like a pale imitation, instead.  A damn boring one, at that.  I know this once great director is getting up there in years, and that perhaps has caused him to lose a step.  If Cosmopolis is really the best he can muster now, maybe it’s time for him to just hang it up for good.