An Open Letter to Topher Grace (PREDATORS Review)

Hi Topher Grace!

How ya doin' buddy? It's been a while. Man, remember when we used to hang out on THAT '70'S SHOW? Those were good times. Remember when people used to say shortening your name from Christopher to Topher was fucking retarded? And why couldn't you be like every other Christopher on the planet and go by Chris? You stuck to your guns on that one, and you sure showed them wrong, bud. Wow. Talk about a nostalgia trip. Probably one of those things that's best left in the past, to be honest, but hey, we had fun while it happened, right?

But then, hey, remember when you pulled that amorality-of-youth thing in Steven Soderbergh's TRAFFIC? That was freaking awesome, dude. Really a game-changer, to be honest. I don't think anyone was expecting Eric Foreman to be ... well, such a dick. But I mean that in a good way. You were going to be one of the young up and coming actors to watch, along with your TRAFFIC co-star, Erika Christensen, who promptly went and made SWIMFAN, THE BANGER SISTERS, and FLIGHTPLAN (making this the second worst trio of films made by an actor named Christensen).

You played it smart, though - you kept on good terms with Soderbergh and pulled out hilarious cameos in OCEAN'S ELEVEN and OCEAN'S TWELVE. And I've never seen P.S., but apparently you were really good in that, too. I'll be honest, IN GOOD COMPANY looked like it was shit, but hey, old people love Dennis Quaid, right? I guess it could have been a smart career move.

But look man, the real reason I wanted to talk to you today was the last couple of films you've done. I don't really want to get into SPIDER-MAN 3 - I think the Internet was pretty much created to hate that movie, and enough time has been spent on talking about why it was so bad - but suffice it to say, while it may not be all your fault, you did nothing to help matters. Deciding to play Eddie Brock/Venom as a snivelling whiner who relishes his newfound power was just a little on the acne-tipped nose. And hey, I know it couldn't have been your idea to have the Venom mask coming off all the time, but did you have to be sneering every time it did?

I'm sorry man, I promised I wasn't going to do this. You know I hate to hit you baby, so don't make me. It's just - you helped ruin Spider-Man. That's pretty capital, sir. And yeah, I know I gave you the cold shoulder after that, but I figured that was probably for the best. I was just giving us a little break, so we could let time go to work and heal those wounds.

But I never gave up on you. I knew you could return to the glory of Foremans-and-drug-fiends-past. So when I heard you were starring in the Robert Rodriguez-scripted PREDATORS, I got excited. Well, maybe not excited. But intrigued, definitely intrigued. I'm almost ashamed to admit that I thought, "Hey, it's been a couple of years - people change, right?"

Well, you screwed me on that one, Grace. Again, I know you can't be completely to blame for PREDATORS' third act, but damn, do you do nothing to stop its train wreck. For the first hour or so, Rodriguez had actually managed to convince me he was trying to do a true sequel to the ruthless and uncompromising pace of the original PREDATOR. And I thought you were trying to do something new with the comedic support role.

But oh no, y'all had to go and decide to add DEXTER to the world of Predator. Hey, here's a funny story: no one, in the history of the world since PREDATOR came out, has watched PREDATOR and thought, "Yeah, OK I guess. What really would have taken this to classic-level status was a sneaky serial-killer type" or watched DEXTER and thought, "Yeah, along with some more of the overly-written narration, what if Dexter teamed up with some aliens to hunt people?"

NO.

NO.

NO.

You got it all wrong.

So, Grace, let me leave you with this parting rhyming couplet:

Topher/

It's over.

And your name is fucking Chris.

THE RULES OF ATTRACTION - get ready for the tangential Tony Scott reference!

Friends, the rumours are true: yes, I own DAWSON'S CREEK: THE COMPLETE COLLECTION. This may not be a shocking revelation, coming so soon after my stunning admission that I've read (and, at times, enjoyed) all the Twilight books, and own (and have not returned) a 50 Cent CD, but it can't be my fault that Kevin Williamson's seminal coming-of-age teen series is an eerie and horrible mirror to my life. It can't be. I had never seen an episode of Dawson's Creek before last year. I never chose to wear the same sweaters as Dawson. I never made my mom buy decorative banners to hang outside our house so that our house would look like Dawson's. And I didn't go to film school only to become disillusioned with filmmaking because that's what Dawson did. It just kinda happened that way. So yes, I watch Dawson's Creek. I watch it in the vague belief that James Vanderbeek is some sort of Kyle Reese-version of me, a warrior of sorts, sent back to our time from the future to warn me away from making horrible life choices.

Which is why watching RULES OF ATTRACTION post-Dawson's Creek was really, really weird for me. I've grown pretty accustomed to seeing James Vanderbeek as an avatar of myself over five seasons or so, so to see him as an "emotional vampire", as he describes himself in the film, was fairly disturbing. It's like watching Kyle Reese rip off his face to expose a glowing red eye and glinty exoskeleton underneath (Editor's Note: this review continues after a two-hour break in which Brandon wrote a totally wicked fanfic where John Connor was forced to kill a terminator with his father's face - which temporarily helped blot out the fact that The Sarah Connor Chronicles ever existed in his mind - Smitty.)

Where was I? RULES OF ATTRACTION, right. It's a dark satire of the college experience, based on a Bret Easton Ellis novel, and adapted and directed by Roger Avary, the man who gave us at least some of TRUE ROMANCE (Tony Scott-approved!), the Bruce Willis section of PULP FICTION, and the script for Zemeckis' BEOWULF (co-written with Neil Gaiman). The man is a talented writer, and what is most admirable about his scripting for this film is while it is unrepentantly bleak, there's an incredible amount of humour going on at the same time. It's wickedly funny, the kind of laughter where you're thinking to yourself, "I shouldn't be laughing at this. I mean, that's Jay Baruchel OD'ing over there - I should feel sad that the kid from PMK is dying."

But you don't. It's impressive that you never really empathize for the characters of THE RULES OF ATTRACTION, but you're still fascinated and amused by them. They're all cold, unfeeling imitations of humanity - Terminators, almost - who treat each other terribly. Essentially it's a film about how awful people can be, but it never becomes so repugnant that you want to turn it off - it's something of a miracle. Vanderbeek is a bit of a heartless bastard, Shannon Sossamon is self-absorbed and deluded, Ian Somerhalder is a pathetic obsessive, and Jessica Biel is playing a straight-up bitch - but they're all kind of funny.

If I have a complaint with THE RULES OF ATTRACTION, it would be that the film is occasionally over-stylized. I can live with the backwards footage that opens the film, and the incredibly fast-paced 'Victor' sequence, as I think they accurately depict a mood that Avary is going for, but things like the split-screen sequence or the heavy-handed scene with Swoosie Kurtz and Faye Dunaway feel like he doesn't trust his actors to convey the emotion or point of the scene (and this from the guy that liked CONVERSATION(S) WITH OTHER WOMEN!) You want the film to calm down at points and just tell a straightforward story without trying to blow your eyeballs off.

Certainly not for everyone, if THE RULES OF ATTRACTION is like Kyle Reese turning into a Terminator, then it comes with the realization that you're a Terminator, too, and now you can play awesome robot games together! Yippee! I love you robot dad!

JACKIE BROWN is my perfect Sunday

Let me paint you a picture: it's a quiet Sunday afternoon, the sun is streaming through the windows and making your head feel fuzzy. Your main goal for the day is to stay as horizontal as possible, you've got some Fairlee fruit punch, ranch Crispers and chocolate cookies, and a comfy couch. What movie's playing?

For me, it's JACKIE BROWN, Tarantino's ode to '70s blaxploitation films. It's my favourite lazy day movie, a film that seems to be tailored to a specific mood for me. The film's languid pace and focus on characters just appeals directly to a part of my brain that turns on when my muscles refuse to move.

Let's start with the soundtrack: Tarantino always gets tremendous respect for his music choices, but I'd argue he's never had a finer touch with pop music than he does here. "Across 110th Street" has become synonymous with this film in pop culture, a perfect theme for the character of Jackie. I wouldn't be surprised if Tarantino based her entire character on the song. The Delfonics are mentioned several times, and the way Tarantino plays the song "Didn't I Blow Your Mind This Time" in two different scenes is in turns funny, tense, ironic, and unforgettable. Even songs that aren't featured as heavily (or obviously), like Bill Withers' "Who Is He (And What Is He To You)" comment on the characters and scenes in interesting ways (although the best use of a Bill Withers song in cinema has to be "Use Me" in ANY GIVEN SUNDAY, right?)

The cast is also one of the best in Tarantino's brief directorial history. The characters here are wonderfully diverse, a fascinating cross-section of cops and criminals, and the grey area in between. I think a fair criticism of Tarantino's work is that much of it tends to deal with similar characters: RESERVOIR DOGS, KILL BILL, INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS, and even PULP FICTION to some extent deal with very similar characters: professional thieves, murderers, warriors, etc. Here, the Elmore Leonard source material adds some nice variety: stoners, stewardesses, and bail bondsmen along with our more traditional Tarantino drug dealers, enforcers, and cops.

Pam Grier is playing the role of her life as Jackie Brown, and it's clear she knows it, pouring a world-weariness and sexiness that isn't necessarily on the page into every moment. If you'll allow me to get a little romantic and pretentious, Grier has absolutely haunting eyes that burn into your consciousness and force you to empathize with her plight. She brings a soul to the two-time loser trying desperately not to make her third mistake. Robert Forster absolutely nails Max Cherry, a streetwise bail bondsman placed in an eternally morally questionable world. Robert DeNiro is doing some really interesting work here as well, playing a sort of sad loser ex-con version of Jake LaMotta. And in a nice nod to Elmore Leonard continuity, Michael Keaton reprises his role as the hilariously overly-eager federal agent Ray Nicolette from Soderbergh's OUT OF SIGHT (also based on a Leonard novel).

Samuel L. Jackson, though, steals this show. It's unbelievable work from an actor who's almost become a parody of himself in recent years in things like SNAKES ON A PLANE and THE SPIRIT, but here he's bringing charm and menace to a character ten times more interesting than Jules, his crisis-of-faith hitman in PULP FICTION. His Ordell Robbie is a fascinating villian, one who would be laughable if he wasn't so menacing, pitiable if he wasn't so smart. There's a cold calculation behind Jackson's eyes in every scene of this film, even when he's just hanging out.

A lot of film profs like to talk about the perspective and chronology shifts in the third act, and while that is interesting, to me the most interesting stuff is right at the front of the film, which is all about setting up Ordell as a viable threat. Tarantino allows the film to slowly play out and gradually come to Jackie Brown, instead first setting up Ordell as a charming, sinister, and finally ruthless criminal who will stop at nothing to protect himself and his business. It has to be one of the longest character introductions in history, taking a full twenty minutes from the moment "Chicks With Guns" comes on screen to the murder of Beaumont. Of course, the film is doing other things, introducing us to DeNiro and Forster as well, but it's principally concerned with Jackson, as he smoothly talks his way into murdering Beaumont. It's beautifully done, and shows a remarkable amount of confidence in the audience to allow the story to develop.

I think that's why JACKIE BROWN is such a lazy favourite of mine - the film just tells you to sit back and trust it. It's like a bedtime story that your crazy Uncle Quentin is telling you before you go to sleep. Oh, and he's sneaking you some ranch Crispers, too.

TWILIGHT: ECLIPSE: The Review That Almost Stopped This Blog

You know, I tried to write this review at least four times. I'm not quite sure how to tackle the whole TWILIGHT phenomenon and the nearly billion dollars the films alone have brought in. So I'm just going to talk about the part that I truly enjoyed about TWILIGHT: ECLIPSE.

Before we get too into this, though, full disclosure: I've read all of the Twilight books. Now, before you run away shrieking in pain, let me explain my reasoning. It's kind of like why I bought 50 Cent's album GET RICH OR DIE TRYING. Seriously.

Stop running away! The 50 Cent thing was supposed to intrigue you, not make you hate me more. Let me explain.

You can't hate on something if you don't understand it. Sure, it's easy to look at 50 sneering at you out of an album cover or Kristen Stewart's best punch-me face on a poster and dismiss it out of hand as stupid, but an informed opinion is only reached by, you know, actually exploring the subject. So sure, 50 Cent should take a lot of heat for "To make it up, I'll do whatever it takes / I love you like a fat kid loves cake" and Stephanie Meyer should take a lot of heat for "'I can do this,' I told myself feebly. No one was going to bite me." but I can give them that well-deserved heat because I've given it a chance. And you know what? There's some fairly impressive world-building in the second Twilight book, and 50 Cent wrote a great song called "Many Men (Wish Death)" ("somewhere my heart turned cold"). So even the worst among us have moments of greatness.

Oh, and Ms. Meyer - I love me a bad pun, but that "bite me" is just awful. Awful. And on page 14 of the first book, nonetheless!

Anyway, that's my low-culture argument. If that wasn't good enough for you, feel free to come back Tuesday, when I'll review something black-and-white, you snobby bitches.

So, the part in Eclipse that really got me: there's this really strange soap opera-y moment where Bella is freezing and Edward has to let Jacob warm her by lying next to her. And, you know, physical contact and stuff! OH NOS. But just before he does so, Jacob gets in this nice dig to Edward: "After all, I am hotter than you." LOL ZOMG!

It's this really weird pandering post-modern moment that really cuts across the story of the film and speaks directly to the whole Team Edward/Jacob marketing ploy. There were gasps and giggles in the show I was at (and no, they were not coming from me). I played it cool, the barest hint of a smile playing at the corners of my mouth. But inside I was freaking out.

And that is how I am ending this review.

The only way Chris Nolan can top INCEPTION is to bring back Michelle Pfeiffer as Catwoman

Remember INSOMNIA? Yeah, I barely do either. I remember not liking it very much at the time, thinking it was full of generic performances from tired performers, with a terribly convenient 'twist' ending. Pacino looked like he was sleepwalking (which may have been the point, with the titular affliction and all, but still) and Robin Williams playing creepy just didn't work. I think Hilary Swank actually had the word BLAND written on her forehead in one scene. Like I said, the memories are a bit fuzzy, but the impression is pretty strong.

If it wasn't for INSOMNIA, Nolan's filmography would be almost impeccable. MEMENTO was an instant classic, flipping noir conventions while remaining true to that thematic core. His BATMAN films have somehow made their way into the hearts of fanboys and general audiences alike. THE PRESTIGE gave us David Bowie as Tesla. Even FOLLOWING, his first feature, shows a mastery of narrative, playing on different timelines with stunning ease. Which brings us to INCEPTION.

INCEPTION is Christopher Nolan's masterpiece, no bones about it. This is a film in the best sense of the word, as gripping an entertainment as it is a serious examination of humanity. It's a loving hodgepodge of everything from THE MATRIX to James Bond films to PERSONA to episodes of THE TWILIGHT ZONE and soap operas. And it all feels like the most cerebral MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE movie we'll ever see. It's also far more than the sum of its parts, not just a collection of fun references, but a distinct film with its own soul.

There's a moment in this film that is as close to pure cinema as anything I've ever seen. It's the zero-G fight, and it's an absolutely incredible piece of filmmaking that's sure to inspire young kids to play with their cameras for years to come. I had an ear-to-ear grin while the sequence was going, and I can't wait to experience it again.

What really comes through is Nolan's determination to make a viscerally thrilling movie with an involving, thoughtful film, and in my books, he completely succeeds. Everything is working on multiple levels in this film. For example, the big Bondian assault on the mountain retreat works as an incredible action setpiece, but also functions as commentary about the violence near the heart of the human psyche. I know that sounds incredibly pretentious, but that's what makes this film truly incredible.

The cast is incredible, too. Leo's playing the tormented genius, the team leader with a mysterious past. There's weird echoes to his character in SHUTTER ISLAND that I don't particularly want to get into, but he brings his now-trademark intensity to the role. Joseph Gordon-Levitt knocks it out of the park again, bringing an understated (and unexpected) menace to his enforcer role. Tom Hardy is an absolute revelation as the actor of the team (the Martin Landau, if you will). I've had BRONSON sitting on my to-watch pile for months, I can't wait to see it now. Ellen Page is given a kind of thankless role as the moral compass, but she's able to shade it with some nice grays as well. Ken Watanabe is having a ton of fun playing the shady businessman. And Tom Berenger! Yes, MAJOR LEAGUE's Tom Berenger!

INCEPTION is absolutely incredible, a film that instantly catapults Christopher Nolan from the list of interesting modern filmmakers to the list of all-time greats. We all need to go see this movie, and see it multiple times.

Hell, it's even got me considering an INSOMNIA re-watch.

EXIT THROUGH THE GIFT SHOP is a documentary, even if it isn't

I was afraid of EXIT THROUGH THE GIFT SHOP. Very, very afraid. It seemed like the concept was rife for a bunch of pretentious defensive justifications for street art, or angry my-dad-didn't-love-me-so-I-draw-on-walls interviews. And while there is some of that at work here, the film really becomes a character documentary, examining the original filmmaker who shot all the footage.

It's an interesting idea, and it helps that the man who shot the documentary is an absolute eccentric, a man who is as mysterious as he is fascinating. His entire backstory is strange, full of weird details (like his desire to document literally everything after losing his mother), to his source of income. You end up spending large sections of the film wondering how much of what you're seeing is "real", and just how much of this is an elaborate prank put on by the artists.

Regardless of how much of the film is real or not, it's pretty clear what the focus of the film is: the commercialization of art. And whether Thierry Guetta is truly as we see him in the film, the point remains the same. Much like Banksy's art, the message is almost instantaneous - in this case, the title says it all.

Oh, and it's funny. Really, really funny.

DAVE CHAPPELLE'S BLOCK PARTY isn't really a concert film

I'm not much of one for concert films. I've never even been able to get through Scorsese's THE LAST WALTZ, and Marty's my boy. There's something about films based on music that just doesn't translate to a visual medium for me. Often times the cinematography of these films seems to be about the ephemera of the moment, the clanging of a cymbal or the vibration of a guitar chord. It's something momentary, and doesn't really give much to think on. Ultimately, I find a lot of these films boring.

So what happens when an uber-visualist like Michel Gondry tackles the medium? Nothing world-shattering. DAVE CHAPPELLE'S BLOCK PARTY is too long and steadily loses momentum, like a marathon runner that starts too fast and ends up limping across the finish line.

The film isn't really about anything: there's a vague the-healing-power-of-music thing going on underneath some of the scenes, there's a bunch of the-curse-of-fame stuff with Chappelle and Lauryn Hill, and some sort of commentary on community and giving back, but the film isn't really about any of these things. It jumps all over the place, from Chappelle organizing the event, to running through rehearsals, to handing out tickets to white people, to the actual show and then back again. The fragmented timeline is very distracting, as just when you're getting into some really good music, we're back to a ten-minute segment on some hippies who live in the area. It's like Gondry isn't content to just document the show, he's got to make this film about more than the music. And while I welcome the attempt, I'm ultimately frustrated by the movie's split focus.

This film would have been infinitely better if it was presented in a chronological fashion, from Chappelle organizing the show through to it's triumphant conclusion. It would have given us a thematic throughline to follow, but instead the film is all chopped up and the message is lost. Part of the problem seems to be that the show might have been a bit of a dud. It's clear that much of the afternoon was drenched in rain, and that there were technical issues throughout the day. It may be that there just wasn't enough good concert footage to fully use.

DAVE CHAPPELLE'S BLOCK PARTY is a concert film that desperately tries to be more than just a concert film, and fails at being either.

A HARD DAY'S NIGHT is like the Beatles walked into a blue-collar Godard movie

One of my favourite things of living in a (legally, if not truly) bilingual society is checking out the French titles of movies. For example, did you know the French title of DIE HARD 2: DIE HARDER (truly one of the great titles of all time) translates to 58 MINUTES TO LIVE? Why? Because it's based off a book called "58 Minutes". Apparently someone in Fox's French department thought people would come to see a Bruce Willis movie based on it's literary appeal and not the fact that it was the sequel to DIE HARD.

The French title of A HARD DAY'S NIGHT is QUATRE GARÇONS DANS LE VENT. That's right. Four Boys In The Wind. That's just delightful. I mean, can you picture the Jonas Brothers' new concert movie being titled The Unbearable Lightness of Being? Or Justin Bieber making his debut film appearance in A Change of Seasons?

Quatre Garcons dans le Vent must rank as one of the most pretentious titles I've ever heard. It doesn't really mean anything, except as some sort of vague Buddhist-tinged going-with-the-flow philosophy (and this was before they met Ravi Shankar!), but it's not a very good indicator of the film's personality. Despite the black-and-white photography and occasional delusions of intellectual grandeur, the film has an incredible amount of charm and wit. It's really just trying to entertain you - to a killer soundtrack.

There are several notable things about A HARD DAY'S NIGHT, the music chief among them, but there are also a few great cinematic touches that make this an enduring film. There's the (oft-imitated) great opening sequence where the Beatles escape throngs of screaming fans, which, while relying on the titular track for its energy, has a couple of great visual gags that make it so memorable. There's also the strange surreal powers the film sometimes ascribes to the Beatles, whether they're suddenly on bicycles keeping pace outside a train, or John's disappearing act from a bathtub. This is a film that will stop at nothing, especially not physics, from getting in the way of a good joke.

What really sets this film apart is its focus. This isn't a film about the brilliant John Lennon or how cute Paul McCartney is. It's not about George, either, because, quite honestly, who wants to see a movie about George? A HARD DAY'S NIGHT is all about Ringo Starr. The entire third act is devoted to his misadventures away from the band ("I'm goin' paradin' before it's too late!") and the attempt to get him back. Ringo is the everyman, a kid caught between outrageous fame and the desire for a normal life, and it's great watching him at the forefront of the band (for what was probably the first and last time). It's like a biopic on Barack Obama told from the perspective of Kal Penn (right? Kind of? A little bit?).

Anyway, I got a little sidetracked. A HARD DAY'S NIGHT is a great movie that I can heartily recommend throwing on for a nice 90-minute diversion, but before I go, I want to leave you with this, a little something to tie into the title of this post:

Notice the dropped letters in the poster design for Godard's BREATHLESS? The R, H, and the first S are all on a different level from the other letters, which leaves ... I just always thought that was weird, and maybe a little subconscious advertising.