YEAR ONE

Written by Harold Ramis, Gene Stupnitsky and Eisenberg
Directed by Harold Ramis
Starring: Jack Black, Michael Cera, Oliver Platt, David Cross and Hank Azaria


Zed: I’m sorry; I wasn’t listening. All my brain blood was in my boner.

I can’t be certain whether YEAR ONE refers to the first year in history in which this Harold Ramis directed film takes place or if it refers to the year of film schooling that was finished by this staff behind the cameras on this film. YEAR ONE, in which Jack Black and Michael Cera wander from one biblical story to the next for no apparent reason other than that being what is written and therefore what is so, is occasionally amusing but only really because of how amateurish it all plays out. Logic was apparently not discovered in our first year here, as it makes no appearance in this film at any point. With Black and Cera leading the way though, the buffoonery with which every presence carries itself is enough to get us through the year. How humanity survived with these idiots in charge is beyond me though.


Zed (Black) is a hunter and Oh (Cera) is a gatherer. Zed isn’t any good at his job and Oh shouldn’t be any good at his job as that’s really woman’s work when you think about it long enough. Personally, I feel that both of these jobs should be genderless but this was the first year of history; women didn’t have Madonna or Oprah or Miley Cyrus to show them that they could do anything yet. Zed’s ignorant bumbling and lack of respect for authority get him booted out of the tribe and he goes Jerry Maguire on them, asking who will go with him to start a new tribe. You will never guess who goes with. OK, it’s Oh. Big shock. They never quite realize their dreams of a new utopia as they constantly just run into meddlesome biblical characters, from Cain and Abel (David Cross and Paul Rudd) to Abraham and Isaac (Hank Azaria and Christopher Mintz-Plasse). They all look absolutely ridiculous with their long wigs and loincloths; it makes it hard to take any of it seriously but it is a comedy, I guess. Maybe if I had been laughing more, I would have been able to see that.

YEAR ONE feels unfinished at times. One moment, Oh is being strangled by a snake and then, cut. Oh is back at camp, safe and sound. There is not even a mention of how he evaded what seemed like certain death seconds earlier. He’s safe now and that’s what matters. Poor Oh though – before long he ends up in another perilous situation, this time involving a cougar. Just when you think he is going to be mauled to death, he is suddenly back at camp again. He’s got a few scratches though so at least we know something went down, but what? Did Ramis think that we wouldn’t care how he got out of these scenarios or was that part of the joke? It would fall in line with the film’s random and oblivious sense of humour though. This would be the same irrational approach that doesn’t explain how Oh manages that perfectly smooth shave when everyone else is scruffy or how a couple of the ladies managed to find tinted contact lenses back then. Did I mention that everyone talks as though they grew up watching television?


While sometimes funny, YEAR ONE is more uneven and odd above anything else. Black plays it cool and takes a strong lead but Cera, while still unavoidably adorable, is beginning to wear his awkwardness a little thin. They make for an amusing enough pair though and it is their combined charisma that gives us the strength to look away from the ludicrously excessive performances from the supporting players (with the exception of Oliver Platt – hilarious). If this really were as introductory as the first year of existence would have it be, I would be more inclined to be more forgiving but these are all seasoned players. This is not amateur night at the caveman improv after all; this is a major Hollywood production. Perhaps had Ramis drawn some parallels between then and now to show how little progress has actually been made in the many years since the first, it might have felt somewhat more purposeful. Instead, it will just be forgotten like history itself.

TROPIC THUNDER

Written by Justin Theroux and Ben Stiller
Directed by Ben Stiller
Starring Ben Stiller, Robert Downey Jr., Jack Black, Jay Baruchel and Steve Coogan


Tugg Speedman: Are you really just going to abandon this movie? We're supposed to be a unit.
Kirk Lazarus: Suck my unit.

Hollywood is hilarious. They’ve got agents ready to cover up dead hookers upon demand and actors with mandatory Tivo in their contracts. They’ve even got heads on the ends of rifles and people biting into live bats. Wait. That isn’t funny. It’s just plain dumb. There’s a fine line between crazy funny and scalping a panda you just killed to wear on your head. TROPIC THUNDER never figures out how to walk that line, falling on either side of it for some pretty uneven results.


In his first directing gig since the, and I can’t believe I’m writing this, infinitely more cohesive, ZOOLANDER, Ben Stiller takes a bunch of pampered actors and drop them in the middle of Vietnam so that they can shoot the greatest war movie ever (as if APOCAPLYPSE NOW would just crawl into a ditch with a live grenade or something). It’s funny in theory, sure, but even Stiller drops the concept early in. With the plot left behind, the men are left to trip over each other in the jungle, which is occasionally cool given that Robert Downey Jr. and Jack Black are fine company to keep but mostly it’s just meandering. I think they’re trying to make it home but who cares really when we keep cutting back to a bald headed, furry-chested, Tom Cruise as a Hollywood executive who just loves telling people to (bleep) themselves whenever he feels like. (Seriously though, he’s pretty funny.)


Thank you, Ben Stiller, for showing me just how hilarious Hollywood likes to think it is and for reminding me just how far out of step it is with the rest of the world. One minute, you’re laughing hysterically at them. The next, they’re the only ones in on the joke and they’re laughing all by themselves. Lucky for them, most of their laughing happens all the way to the bank.

KUNG FU PANDA

Written by Jonathan Aibel & Glenn Berger
Directed by Mark Osborne & John Stevenson
Voices by Jack Black, Dustin Hoffman, Angelina Jolie, Jackie Chan, Ian McShane, Seth Rogen, Lucy Liu and David Cross


Shifu: We don’t wash our pits in the sacred pool of tears.

Fortune cookie wisdom is imparted throughout the colorful KUNG FU PANDA. Some of it makes no sense out of context but it all amounts to some very simple, very basic advice about believing in the warrior within. “There are no accidents,” claims the coolest of Zen master turtles after a panda drops from the sky at just the right moment to be deemed the next Dragon Warrior. There are especially no accidents when no risk is taken. That panda is of course the panda from the title and from the moment this lazy emotional eater is “discovered” as the warrior that will go on to save the kingdom, you know exactly how the entire thing will play out. Po (voiced by an increasingly subtle Jack Black) will drown in doubt while he trains for something he doesn’t believe himself capable of; the other animals will badger him into giving up; but eventually, he will find his inner kung fu master and save the day. Subsequently and expectedly, reviewers will call it out for its lack of originality. That’s how it goes.


So it isn’t so original. No big deal. What it lacks in originality, it makes up for in style and humour. Relatively new directors, Mark Osborne and John Stevenson have created a multihued ancient China that moves with stealth precision between enchantment and explosive energy. Its inhabitants are geese and rabbits that live their lives in the shadow of lore. As long as all is peaceful, then they can blissfully enjoy their noodle soups in the town square and if anything should happen to collapse that peace, then they have the kung fu specialized Furious Five – a tiger, a monkey, a crane, a snake and oddly enough, a mantis – to protect them from whatever evil lurks. No one member of the community has more faith in these five than Po. His idolatry of these heroes extends to numerous posters on his walls and action figures by his bed. Black plays Po as the hardcore geek that hides his enthusiasm and secret desire to be a part of it all in fear of being ridiculed for wanting the impossible. Po is that unfortunate fat kid from school that wants to hang with all the cool kids, hates that he’s stuck working at the local fast food joint after school and knows that there’s nothing he can do about it. Wait; was I that kid? Is that why I love him?


KUNG FU PANDA is overloaded with voice talent. Any scene with Po is usually hilarious as I guess Black knows what it’s like to be the unlikely guy hanging with the in crowd. However, when he isn’t in the picture, the delivery from the majority of the A-list cast is often bland and purely functional. Po, and his kung fu trainer, Shifu (a frustrated and disgruntled, yet still minutely optimistic Dustin Hoffman) trade quips with fervor and weight and make for much giddiness. The Furious Five, not so much. Considering they’re voiced by actors as varied as Angelina Jolie, Jackie Chan and Seth Rogen, you would think they would provide for plenty of conflicting antics but they end up reduced to nothing more than another obstacle for Po to overcome. I’m no kung fu expert but I’m pretty sure gossiping and bad mouthing members of the team when they aren’t there (and sometimes even when they’re right in front of them) is not part of the package. Our heroes aren’t always what we hope they will be when we finally find ourselves face to face with them but these five could have certainly been truer to their furious form if some element of development had been given to them.


Still, despite its unevenness and seemingly simple approach, KUNG FU PANDA is great wisdom wrapped in even greater fun and often breathtaking animation. Sometimes the simplest of lessons are the ones that are hardest to learn. (Now I’m a fortune cookie.) Perhaps the subtlest lesson the film passes on is to relinquish your control over the destiny of your own life. Po never thought he would find himself surrounded by his heroes, getting the chance to realize his life long dream of becoming a kung fu master but here he is suddenly. Master Shifu never thought he would be training such a useless lump but here his is as well. It is only when each character let go of their egos and expectations that they saw how to make their situation work. Shedding your own expectation for KUNG FU PANDA to be something more than what it really is will allow for the good times intended to be had and an unexpected tranquility to seep into your mind.

BE KIND, REWIND

Written and Directed by Michel Gondry
Starring Jack Black, Mos Def, Danny Glover, Melonie Diaz and Mia Farrow


Jerry: The only reason there’s anybody here is because there’s nowhere else to go.

How can someone who has built a reputation for being one of the more imaginative and visually creative directors in modern cinema find himself producing work that feels increasingly limited in scope? French filmmaker, Michel Gondry, broke out of the music video milieu in 2004 with ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND. The mind-melting dive into a psyche burnt by love was a dizzying assault on the eyes and a cerebral tickle simultaneously. His narrative film follow-up, THE SCIENCE OF SLEEP (2006), was expected to be a similar experience revolving around the dreamiest of human experiences. While it may have been whimsical, it lacked the firm contemplative nature of its predecessor. This was of course forgiven considering the elusive nature of the subject but disappointment was still felt. Now, as if in direct response to his criticisms of being perhaps too imaginative to be always understood, Gondry has crafted BE KIND, REWIND, where the madness of Gondry falls from the boundless sky and hits the pavement of Passaic, New Jersey, hard. His once ingenious approach is not entirely squashed but rather squeezed into conventional form resulting in a work that tries too hard on all plains.


The beginning of BE KIND, REWIND is both bizarre and boring. A video store clerk (Mos Def), his boss and mentor (Danny Glover) and a junkyard mechanic (Jack Black) sit around with colanders on their heads and stare across the street at a supposedly pimped out ride (an economy car outfitted with gigantic aluminum piping that looks like a musical wind instrument out of the world of Dr. Seuss) as they blabber on about working in a microwave or something equally nonsensical. Gondry just drops us there. He explains nothing as if everything we see is supposed to already make sense. Apparently, it means nothing to Gondry that we are not permanent residents in his brain. By the time Black’s Jerry concocts some plan about sabotaging the neighboring power plant with a grappling hook that I can only assume he found in the junkyard, I was ready to walk. Gondry’s attempt to ground the imagination in a real context only served to show how the two worlds are separate for a reason. Naturally, the sabotage is a disaster and this leads to every videotape in the “Be Kind, Rewind” store being erased by magnetism. Def’s Mike must now replace the tapes before his father figure finds him out and he proves to be the disappointment he fears he truly is. Thankfully, hilarity finally ensues.


Jerry and Mike proceed to reshoot “classic” fare like GHOSTBUSTERS, RUSH HOUR 2 and DRIVING MISS DAISY to replenish the shelves of wasted tapes. As they parade around in costumes made of aluminum foil and Christmas garland, they remove every trace of quality from these conventional crowd pleasers. Their antics and approaches are goofy and very funny in an intimate fashion; the chemistry between the pompous Black and the timid Def is just what the film needs to get the audience laughing and rooting for its formerly uninteresting heroes. And while they may look to be ruining these films at first, what they are really doing is reminding the audience that movies needn’t be made for millions of dollars to be entertaining. Suddenly, there is a lot being said in BE KIND, REWIND. The neighborhood that is home to the store is being entirely remodeled and Glover’s Mr. Fletcher wants to transition from VHS to DVD in order to compete with the chain stores that are gobbling up small business. The nostalgia for simpler times points out how glossing everything over to look new doesn’t erase what is underneath. Despite this, Gondry is too busy glossing his own work over to solidly make his point.


When BE KIND, REWIND is funny, it’s hysterical. When it is not, it is awkward and annoying. Though the film praises the amateur filmmaker in all of us, this is no excuse for it to play out like it was actually made by an amateur. Still, the film fosters a strong community effort to work together and be a part of movie making magic – a world so many of us admire regularly from afar but so few comparatively get to be involved in. The little guy can have his voice too and push his imagination further than, well, he ever imagined. Unfortunately, Gondry makes a crucial mistake and forgets to ask the audience to join in all the fun.

MARGOT AT THE WEDDING

Written and Directed by Noah Baumbach


Malcolm: I haven’t had that thing yet where you realize that you’re not the most important thing in the world – anxious for that to happen.

What does it say about your wedding when your estranged sister’s attendance is a bigger event than the wedding itself? I mean, it’s right there in the title of Noah Baumbach’s dysfunctional family disaster movie. It isn’t called “The Wedding” or “Malcolm and Pauline Get Married”. No, it’s called MARGOT AT THE WEDDING. If your sister at your wedding causes that big a stir, perhaps the invitation would have been better lost in the mail. Still, despite her better judgment and in the interest of progress and healing, Pauline (Jennifer Jason Leigh) does invite the sister she still refers to as her closest friend after years of not speaking, to her intimate affair. It is clear her idea was not her best from the moment Margot (Nicole Kidman) steps off the boat and on to the New England shore. Pauline sends her fiancé, Malcolm (Jack Black), to pick Margot and her eldest son, Claude (Zane Pais), up from the ferry. She claims to be making last minute arrangements back at the house but I suspect it was she and not the house who was not quite ready to receive. Then, when the two are finally face to face, standing in front of the house they grew up in, they smile and make pleasantries but fidget hesitatingly before actually embracing. That awkward moment grows into a whirlwind of deep-seeded pain before long and suddenly rain on the blessed day is hardly the biggest worry for the bride-to-be.


Baumbach scored last time out with his Oscar-nominated THE SQUID AND THE WHALE. He was lauded for his sensitive and honest tale of divorce and how it affects the entire family unit. With MARGOT AT THE WEDDING, he solidifies his reputation for creating believable family ties based on dependence, dysfunction and subtle admiration. Watching the sisters as they sit around the house catching up is voyeuristic as we are often privy to conversations that feel as though they were not meant to be heard. As the sisters flip through old records in their even older house, Baumbach writes decades of experiences into his characters and we, like Malcolm, are latecomers to this dinner party. Director of photography, Harris Savides, draws us even closer to this inner circle by shooting mostly handheld footage in natural lighting and with older lenses. The resulting tone is dark and grainy but nostalgic and rich with history at the same time. At times, we are the quiet cousin who says nothing but stands in the corner with a camera and follows the drama from room to room. It isn’t long before we learn how to interpret the vernacular of this particular family and we find ourselves laughing along inappropriately at the expense of whomever Margot is lovingly ridiculing at the moment. As we laugh though, we care as well.


Kidman and Leigh (Baumbach’s wife) are both marvelous as they walk the very tightly wound lines of their borderline personalities. Baumbach guides their performances into textured characters that seem natural as sisters and strongly rooted as multifaceted people who struggle to be themselves when in the presence of the other. They even possess archetypal qualities without coming across as contrived. Margot is the master of deflection. She is constantly doling out psychological diagnoses to those around her to avoid any fingers pointing back her way. It never dawns on her that as a writer, she actually has no formal foundation to base her opinions on. She cannot understand why Pauline would settle for Malcolm; she picks at Claude to keep him closer; she even attacks her husband (John Turturro) for his good nature because it just makes her feel like a bad person. She is a fatalist to Pauline’s hopeful but defeated optimist. Pauline is damaged but wants to heal and has done so much more than she gives herself credit for. She teeters back and forth between making sneaky, subtle jabs at her sister, habits from her youth, and building new connections so that she can have the sister she always wanted instead of the one she has always had. Only, in the house that Baumbach built, the answer to whether people can ever truly change is not the least bit clear.


Family, even the best examples, can be tricky to negotiate. Spending any extended period of time with the people who both influenced you and hurt you the most in your life can be exhausting. That said, MARGOT AT THE WEDDING can be no less trying. There are those who revel in watching others with deeper dysfunction then their own. It helps them to feel that their lives are not nearly as bad as they thought. There are also others who feel they have enough to juggle already with potentially damaging weddings of their own to survive coming up fast. Why then immerse yourself in a tornado of neuroses and painful memories that are not even your own? Truthfully, you don’t have to. Along those lines, Pauline never needed to invite her sister to her wedding either. Only if she hadn’t, she would have missed out on everything the experience taught her about herself and the potential for progress. This is the genuine beauty of Baumbach’s work. He shares so intensely and personally that he inevitably forces the viewer to deal with their own inner-Margot.

KING KONG

Written by Philippa Boyens, Fran Walsh & Peter Jackson
Directed by Peter Jackson

Writer's Note: My apologies for giving away the entire plot but c'mon, you knew it already.

Dance, human! dance! As King Kong watches Naomi Watts as Ann Darrow juggle, make funny faces, do summersaults, all in an effort to communicate with this giant ape who has taken her captive, he can’t seem to bring himself to accept her as the sacrifice she was intended. Laughter has bridged the gap between beauty and beast and allowed what seemed like a hopeless situation for Darrow become a comforting one. It is a pivotal moment that showcases the deeper meaning of King Kong, Peter Jackson’s three-hour epic remake. This twist of fate reveals Kong as sensitive, docile, misunderstood, a simple monkey trapped in a 25-foot ape’s body who just needed someone to listen, to look past the roaring tower of strength and intimidation to see the monkey within. It is touching, moving and perhaps most importantly a technical feat but it is pretty much all there is in terms of depth. Kong’s style may be impressive but its size and scope do not lead to substance while it’s grandeur leaves you thinking there has to be something more to this.

The first act presents Jack Black, trying as hard as he might to play a serious role as reputable film director, Carl Denham, who has a gigantic vision that frightens his producers. They gripe that his films run too long, that he may be ambitious but he can just as easily lose control of the budget. (By the by, did you happen to hear how expensive Mr. Jackson’s king Kong ended up being?) The parallels cannot help but be drawn and though his films deliver twice over at the box office, I feel a hint of cockiness here. Really, this whole storyline was completely unnecessary. Denham proceeds to steal film stock from his producers when he overhears they aren’t interested in backing him any further before boarding a ship, with both a sea and a film crew, heading to the undiscovered territory known as Skull Island. The boat ride is awash with subplots that get lost at sea and jokes that fall flat in the water. I felt like I was drifting.


Until finally, Skull Island is accidentally discovered. Once the crew sets foot on this eerie isle, the film grabs your senses and shakes them repeatedly. Jackson’s imagination takes to the screen as Darrow, Denham, Jack Driscoll (Adrian Brody) and the numerous other seamen fight their way out of one harrowing situation after another and another … and another! Tribe people who look like apple granny dolls with stakes through their noses and eyes rolled back in their heads make way for swamp creatures that turned my stomach over and over while I turned my frightened eyes away from the screen. The crew try to wiggle their way out of dinosaur stampedes and an ambush of legions of over-sized insects. All the while, they search for Anne Darrow with the threat of King Kong looming over all their narrow escapes.

Naomi Watts makes Anne Darrow, and king Kong itself, worth all this effort. She is luminous and charming as a vaudevillian actress who just wants to bring a little laughter to this troubled world. She communicates emotions as vast as fear, love, sympathy and hope through her eyes and body movements as her co-star doesn’t speak any language she might know. By the time she is atop the Empire State building with Kong during the iconic climax, her lips say nothing as her eyes scream her disgust for the brutality her fellow humans have shown this gentle creature.

As Kong struggles to hold on atop the Empire State, masses of people wait for him to fall. Their faces exude superiority, not the kind felt by the privileged but the kind felt by the entire human race that there is no other species above us. Suddenly, Jackson’s intentions shine through like the sunset of a CGI sky. As Kong falls from his perch, mankind can rest easy once again, having conquered its fear with violence and destruction and without having bothered once again to understand the unfamiliar. Luckily for Kong, Anne Darrow was there with love in her eyes before he fell.