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Review: TROPIC THUNDER / Ben Stiller (2008)

August 13th, 2008 by Scott Marks

Brandon T. Jackson, Ben Stiller & Robert Downey, Jr

Brandon T. Jackson, Ben Stiller & Robert Downey, Jr

Tropic Thunder (2008)
Written by: Ben Stiller, Justin Theroux & Etan Cohen
Starring: Ben Stiller, Robert Downey, Jr., Jack Black, Brandon T. Jackson, Nick Nolte, Tom Cruise, Matthew McConnaughey & Steve Coogan
Running Time: 107 min.
Aspect Ratio:

Rating: ☆☆☆☆☆

A trio of narcissistic actors (Ben Stiller, Robert Downey, Jr., Jack Black) are hired to star in the biggest war movie ever made. Five days into filming and the blockbuster is already one month behind schedule. With the studio threatening to halt production, the director (Steve Coogan) decides to shoot it guerrilla-style and before long his cast is thrown into actual combat.

This weekend I popped in What Did You Do in the War, Daddy?, Blake Edwards’ boisterous service comedy that left a mortar shell at the box office, and couldn’t help wondering what the Master would have done with this material. There are star cameos, in-jokes galore, complex lighting set-ups (John Toll, Terrence Malick’s last d.p., shot it) and plenty of physical pain inflicted on characters, a trademark of Edwards’ finest comedies. Ted Wass notwithstanding, Edwards seldom heaped pain on his audience. Tropic Thunder is a torture chamber.

Reality Bites? The Cable Guy? Zoolander?Who handed Ben Stiller a budget to direct another feature? Oh, yeah. DreamWorks. Stiller’s performance range is neatly compartmentalized: there are nerds (Along Came Polly, Duplex, The Heartbreak Kid, Focker) and narcissists (Mystery Men, Starsky and Hutch, Dodgeball). As a director, he has become the annoying equivalent of Jim Carrey’s contorted face constantly interrupting the purposely placid fish-eye compositions in The Cable Guy. As Tugg Speedman, Stiller tries his best to shave the ham, while behind the camera he serves up platters of gristle.

The faux trailers that open the film make Robert Rodriguez’s work on Grind House look like SCTV and set the tone for 107 mins. worth of sophomoric lampooning. The controversies that surround the film are far more fascinating than the film itself. In March, Emulsion Compulsion reported that Caucasian actor Robert Downey, Jr. burnt some cork in order to play an African American character. The story, planted by studio rumor mills eager to spark word-of-mouth, caught my eye. I’ll see anything with Robert Downey, Jr. He’s one of our finest contemporary actors; on par with Johnny Depp. Can you believe that Downey and Depp have never worked together? It seems like such a logical pairing. Then again, if they should unite on screen, Jon Avnet would probably be hired to direct.

Playing an actor that “doesn’t drop character until the DVD commentary,” Downey never come close to embarrassing himself. He never has. As golden boy Kirk Lazarus, Downey isn’t playing a black man, but a self-absorbed Aussie movie star playing a black guy and that includes an at times “Uncle Tommish” vocal impersonation. Downey is allowed to get away with certain stereotypes because Brandon T. Jackson works opposite him in the Robin Quivers role. That’s more than I can say for Tom Cruise.

Before Monday’s screening of Henry Poole, several critics (save Duncan Sheperd who sat laughing to himself in the top row of stadium seats) were gushing over Cruise’s Jew-turn. Beneath a fat suit and bald cap, Tom transforms into the Scientological Phil Silvers, give or take a few rows of stubble. Apart from the ultra-orthodox sounding name “Les Grossman,” Cruise makes sure not to step on any Yiddish toes. He spouts a lot of “f-cks” while flapping his arms, but the satire is obvious and has been done before by better. (Rick Moranis as “Larry Siegel.” I rest my case.)

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KPBS Film Club reviews PINEAPPLE EXPRESS, MAN ON WIRE, THE LAST MISTRESS, VICKY CHRISTINA BARCELONA, BAGHEAD and more!

August 6th, 2008 by Scott Marks

Today’s show not only covered the customary five films, we also found time to drop plugs for two more upcoming films. Alan Ray, filling in for the vacationing Tom Fudge, kept the show moving at a brisk clip and without any callers the time literally flew by. The show commences with a cameo by the ever-vibrant Gloria Penner who was called upon to make a couple of corrections on a previous story. After that it’s all movies, only movies. Just the way I like it! Below are Alan’s introductory descriptions of the five films. Listen to the entire Podcast here.

“PINEAPPLE EXPRESS: Pineapple Express is both a stoner comedy and a spoof of action movies. It’s written by the guys who wrote Superbad and produced by Judd Apatow, who directed Knocked Up. Seth Rogen stars as Dale, a stoner who witnesses a murder committed by a drug lord and a crooked cop. As a result, he and his equally stoned friend Saul, played by James Franco, have to go on the lam. The term Pineapple Express refers to high grade marijuana that is very rare. Judd Apatow has had a lot of success with the lovable losers at the center of his comedies; let’s find out if this one succeeds.
Pineapple Express opens in area theaters today.

MAN ON WIRE: In 1974, a group of foreign nationals snuck into the World Trade Center carrying equipment that included heavy grade wire and a bow and arrow. They worked all night preparing for what would happen when daylight arrived. Come morning, Philippe Petit, a French tightrope walker and street performer, walked across a wire suspended between the two towers 110 stories above the ground. He remained on the wire for 45 minutes, attracting a crowd of onlookers on the street below, and finally was taken away by police. The new documentary Man on Wire tells the story of Philippe Petit and his grand caper through interviews with the Petit and his team, reenactments of events, and archival footage.

Man on Wire opens at Landmark’s Hillcrest theaters this Friday.

THE LAST MISTRESS: The Last Mistress is a costume drama written and directed by the French director Catherine Breillat, who is best known for the provocative films Romance and Fat Girl. The Last Mistress is set among the French aristocracy in the 1900’s and tells the story of a passionate affair between a young woman named Veillini and a penniless nobleman named Ryno, who has just married an innocent heiress. Because of his marriage, Ryno has to end his affair, and this doesn’t sit so well with Veillini, who is strong-willed and tempestuous.

The Last Mistress opens at Landmark’s La Jolla Village Cinemas this Friday.

VICKY CRISTINA BARCELONA: It’s another Woody Allen movie, with a couple of interesting back stories. There’s another of “those kisses”…and Scarlett Johansson’s e-mail relationship with Barack Obama. The movie is set in Barcelona. It’s about sexual attraction, and what to do about it, with whom.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona opens on August 15 in area theaters.

BAGHEAD: Two couples go off to spend the weekend in an isolated cabin in the middle of nowhere so they can write a screenplay. But, alas, their efforts are foiled by a guy with a paper bag over his head. This is the basic plot of the horror movie/relationship drama called Baghead. Baghead was written and directed by Jay and Mark Duplass, otherwise known as the Duplass Brothers. Their 2005 movie Puffy Chair was an indie favorite. In this movie, they spoof independent film festivals, moviemaking, and horror movies.

Baghead is currently playing at Landmark’s Hillcrest Theaters and tonight’s your last night to see it - or (DON’T!!!) rent it on DVD in a couple of months.”

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Review: SIN CITY / Frank Miller and Robert Rodriguez (2005)

July 30th, 2008 by Scott Marks

Sin City (2005)
Directed by: Frank Miller, Robert Rodriguez and “Guest Director” Quentin Tarantino
Written by: Frank Miller & Robert Rodriguez
Starring: Bruce Willis, Mickey Rourke, Clive Owen, Jessica Alba, Josh Hartnett, Rosario Dawson, Benicio Del Toro, etc.
Running Time: 126 min.

Rating: ★☆☆☆☆

Once again a Hollywood adaptation of a comic book looks great and goes nowhere. The long-awaited big screen version of Frank Miller’s Sin City presents a visually dazzling flipbook netherworld that should please only a comic book mentality.

Miller was soured on Hollywood after his experience writing the two RoboCop sequels and refused to relinquish the rights to any of his comic books. Rodriguez, a big fan of Miller’s work, filmed an “audition” scene between Josh Hartnett and Marley Shelton, later used in the finished product. He presented Miller with the footage and told him, “If you like this, this will be the opening to the movie. If not, you’ll have your own short film to show your friends.”

Rodriguez deemed the comic book’s visual style so influential he insisted Miller receive a co-director credit. The Director’s Guild of America refused and Rodriguez politely ceased to belong saying, “It was easier for me to quietly resign before shooting because otherwise I’d be forced to make compromises I was unwilling to make or set a precedent that might hurt the guild later on.” This brave move cost Rodriguez a gig on Paramount’s upcoming John Carter of Mars.

Why a ‘Guest Director’ credit? In addition to pointlessly referencing episodic seventies television credits, Tarantino expressed interest in experimenting with HD cameras, a Rodriguez pet. In exchange for one dollar, Rodriguez agreed to compose the soundtrack to Kill Bill Vol. 2. With another exchange of Washington’s, Tarantino returned the favor. Frankly, they both overpaid. Long a film-over-digital proponent, when asked about his experience, Tarantino merely replied, “Mission Accomplished.” (Tarantino directed the overlong Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia homage between Clive Owen and Benicio Del Toro.)

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Emulsion Compulsion finds Readership in Chicago

July 28th, 2008 by Scott Marks

At last I’ve become a whatever became of!!! Thanks to my pal J.R. Jones for remembering this old Chicagoan with a terrific mention on the Chicago Reader’s Movie Blog. When J.R. joined Facebook, he did a search on Groucho Marx and not surprisingly, my name came up. Ten years ago J.R. wrote a profile piece that nailed me. Wish I could provide a link, but it’s not in The Reader’s on-line archive. Mention it next time you see me and I’ll recite it for you verbatim. J.R. has assumed the recently retired Jonathan Rosenbaum’s spot as The Reader’s #1 critic, and he continues to make the site one of the finest outlets for film criticism on line. In the words of that grate Chicagoan Sig Sackowicz, “Hey, buddy, thanks for taking the time!”

***UPDATE***

I just received a note from J.R. Jones informing me that my Reader interview is on line. Just go to J.R.’s article and click on my name.

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Review: HOUSE OF D / David Duchovny (2004)

July 28th, 2008 by Scott Marks

The House of D (2004)
Written and Directed by David Duchovny
Starring: David Duchovny, Robin Williams, Anton Yelchin, Tea Leoni and Erykah Badu
Running Time: 97 min.
Aspect Ratio: 1.85:1

Rating: ★★★★☆ for unintentional laughs

Having never watched an episode of The X-Files, I steered clear of the screening. Instead I offer up a review of a David Duchovny film that I can wholeheartedly endorse!

For the duration of the opening credits there was promise. We open on movement. Cut to: a sketchpad painting of a bicycle in front of the Eiffel tower that gracefully transitions to a shot of David Duchovny bringing the watercolor to life. All under the skilled eye of ace cinematographer Michael Chapman (Taxi Driver, Raging Bull). Promise soon gave way to satirical contemptuousness.

On the occasion of his son’s thirteenth birthday, an American in Paris (Duchovny) decides to finally unload his personal backstory on his wife and kid. Flashback to: 1973 Greenwich Village. Stepping up to play the young Duchovny is thirteen-year-old Anton Yelchin, As Tommy Warshaw, Yelchin is an untrained child actor hampered by a droning nasal delivery better suited for commercial voiceovers.

Tommy’s home life is on pause. His recently widowed mother (Tea Leoni) is a disillusioned, chain-smoking emotional wreck. His school life is more painstakingly nuanced than a VH1 I Love the Seventies special. It’s all clacker-balls, loose-leaf Origami fortune tellers and a stick shift, banana seat Schwinn Apple-Crate bicycle (renamed “The Green Goddess”). Why fuss with character development and structural layering when it’s easier to hire a design team with good memories?

The film is not without moments of inspired perversity. While Tommy is showering, mom enters to take use of the toilet. She punctuates her ablutions by dropping a lit cigarette between her legs. Later, Tommy pissbombs his mom’s floating butts with a yellow downpour, drenching the four filter-tipped rafts. Pretty bold stuff for the X-Files ex. It should have stopped there. We do not need to revisit the porcelain ashtray another six or seven times before mom goes brain dead, leaving Tommy to wistfully scoop cigs out of the water and lovingly preserves them in Charmin.

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Review: PALINDROMES / Todd Solondz (2004)

July 27th, 2008 by Scott Marks

Palindromes (2004)
Written and Directed by Todd Solondz
Starring: Matthew Faber, Angela Pietropinto, Bill Buell, Ellen Barkin & Richard Masur
Running Time: 100 minutes
Aspect Ratio: 1.85:1

Rating: ☆☆☆☆☆

How can I dislike a film that features real life retardates given a chance to show off their acting skills, Christian-bashing, fat girls in belly shirts and a plate filled with homemade “Jesus’ tears” cookies? With Todd Solondz, it simply a matter of course.

The film opens with a memorial card for Dawn Weiner, the lead character in Welcome to the Dollhouse, Solondz’s ode to suburban teenage angst. Yearning to create an “inner-dialogue” for his minions, Solondz feels it necessary to establish Dawn’s death in order to squelch any parallels between her character and that of Aviva, the lead in Paliundromes. Here’s an idea - if you fear drawing similarities DON’T DEDICATE A FILM TO HER! In truth, the director begged actress Heather Matarazzo to reprise ‘Weinerdog,’ the role that put her on the map, but the actress wisely refused. She must have read the script.

There is nothing more frustrating than sitting through a comedy and not knowing when or where to laugh. If ever a film had a shot at sick-f–k masterwork it’s this one, but Solondz couldn’t resist ‘arting’ it up. Not through visuals, but alleged narrative complexity. For no good reason other than he liked the idea, at least a half-dozen actresses play the role of Aviva, a pregnant thirteen-year-old desperate to keep her baby. (One incantation named Huckleberry inexplicably makes two brief appearances mid-film and at the end.) Her sensible parents (Ellen Barkin and Richard Masur) insist on an abortion after which Aviva runs away from home. She winds up in the care of Mama Sunshine and her surrogate band of medical anomalies and curiosities.

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