CRANK: THE FILM THAT MAKES MICHAEL BAY LOOK RESTRAINED

2006_0901crankAs bad as I imagined it could possibly be, Crank is, in fact, much much worse. Imagine two particularly immature 14 year old boys who spend 99% of their time playing video games and inexplicably watching bad syndicated 1990s Stephen J. Cannell TV shows like Renegade and Silk Stalkings getting together and “writing” a screenplay. In doing so, they find old people cursing particularly hilarious. They think up every ludicrous situation and violent set-piece possible and make a big list. They’re favorite movie is Speed, yet somehow, they’ve also heard of D.O.A.. (However, I’m sure it’s this one they’ve maybe seen.)

So writing-directing team Marc Neveldine and Brian Taylor aren’t teenagers, but it doesn’t take reading the press notes to realize that they a) wanted to make a video game movie without basing anything on a video game; b) have specifically personified their credits not as two names but as Neveldine/Taylor (people don’t direct movies, you know; entities do); c) are making they’re feature film debuts; and most importantly, d) are successful music video and commercial directors. They certainly bring that last sensibility to Crank full force. The movie starts high octane and never lets up, and I’m sure they see this as its prime virtue. Unfortunately, while that level of adrenaline may be required for Chev Chelios (Jason Statham — a 21st Century Steven Segal) to simply stay alive, it simply is exhausting for someone watching. Crank has so much going on without a second’s pause that its relatively brief 83 minute run-time feels longer than even the bloated Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest, which is just under twice as long.

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FRATRICIDE: DOES THE TITLE GIVE AWAY THAT THIS FILM MAY NOT LIFT YOUR SPIRITS?

I’ve been to and/or watched at home several movies over the last couple weeks. The end of the summer, in my book, has been great for the big, mainstream movies. I’ve rarely laughed as hard as I did at Snakes on a Plane, Talladega Nights and (probably the funniest of them all) Beerfest. (I’ll write about the other two in the next couple days.) All of them light, fun and simply pure entertainment.

06_0823fratricideNone of those words would describe Fratricide, which opened today for at least two weeks at Film Forum here in New York. Director Yilmaz Arslan’s powerful and angry but most-of-all tragic film is an attempt to depict the immigrant’s experience, but not one that American audiences are used to seeing. The story follows two young Kurds who befriend each other after taking the harrowing and deadly illegal trip to Germany. Azad (Erdal Celik) is a teenager whose brother, already living in Germany, sends money home to allow him to travel. In Germany, he has become a barber, giving haircuts in shaves in a grungy bathroom at the back of a bar. When the younger Ibo (Xevat Getcan) shows up at the shelter, Azad takes him under his wing, treating him like the younger sibling he left back at home.

The conflict in the story comes from three separate directions, all familial and/or cultural; the first from within as Azad’s relationship with his brother isn’t exactly a strong one. Second, Azad wants to go about things his own way, however he is regularly pressured by an organization of Kurds who act like a guerilla civil rights group. And finally, there are the Turks, immigrants also to Germany, but with a superiority complex, just like in their home country. The Turks are represented in the film first through two brothers who are not much better than hoods. The film starts seemingly telling three different stories that seem completely unrelated, but as Arslan lets the sequence of events play out, the culture clash becomes explosive and violent.

The key sequence in the middle of the film is one I won’t reveal other than saying that it came at me a bit like a Fat Girl moment. (I may have mentioned this before, but to me, a Fat Girl moment is a quick, shocking — even horrifying — completely unexpected and out-of-nowhere event that makes your jaw drop and your body go rigid. Additionally, it’s usually over before you’ve had any time to process what has happened. In Fat Girl, it comes at the very end. There’s one in Cache as well.) There’s a stabbing, but that’s not the WTF moment.

Fratricide is another in a long line of films describing the inevitability of violence begetting violence. Revenge, payback, whatever … all of the characters in the film seem powerless to stop the cycle. Azad is a good kid; he simply wants to make some money, help his family back home, and live comfortably. Early on we see how selfless he is, not just in taking Ibo into his care, but in making Ibo, who has his own tragic secret, feel like a useful part of their enterprise. And yet, when the story reaches its climax, it’s nearly impossible to see how it could end any other way.

The saddest element of this story, however, is probably also the most obvious. The Kurds have long been an ethnic group without an official homeland. Turkey has consistently laid claim to their tract of land the Kurds consider Kurdistan. Another part of Kurdistan is part of Iraq. The Kurdish group in the film seems to be similar to so many American civil rights groups from the 1960s, like the Black Panthers. And yet, the one thing that struck me was how similar the father of the two Turkish brothers — a well-meaning older man who runs a small grocery store — looked to Azad’s father living in a hut in the middle of the wilderness in Kurdistan. These people may be ethnically different, but essentially they’re the same, all of them trying to make a better life for themselves and their families. In that way, I suppose the immigrant experience of Fratricide isn’t, in fact, so different from what we’re used to seeing.

PRISON BREAK AND VANISHED BRING THE FIRST WHIFF OF FALL

06_0821fichtnerprisonbrk_1The autumnal equinox is still a month off, and we’re still 10 days away from Labor Day weekend, but if Fall didn’t kick-off last night, we got a pretty good slam bang preview. (Whatever that means. I just came from a screening of How to Eat Fried Worms, and I’m killing time before Beerfest. Obviously, my judgment today is heavily impaired.) I refer, of course, to last night’s two hour thrill-fest on Fox: the season premiere of Prison Break and the series premiere of Vanished, two shows which many will argue are progeny of Fox’s hit 24. If you’re talking about television that makes you push the boundaries of one’s abilities to completely suspend disbelief, than yes, they are Kiefer’s spawn, although in reality, since every great idea fails the first time out only to become successful once it gets schlocky, the granddaddy of them all would have to be the late, great, too-short-lived, Steven Bochco produced, legal thriller Murder One. But I digress. Yeah, I have a knack for it.

I’ve had a love-hate relationship with 24 during each of its seasons because of some of the shit they pull in the storylines. I mean, I don’t need the show to be realistic, but I do need it to at least be believable within the world created, and every now and then, I can’t help but roll my eyes and follow them as they actually roll out of my head, across the room, bounce off the TV screen and fly back into their sockets. (Hey, it’s as realistic as 75% of what Jack Bauer accomplishes.) BUT — and this is a big but — I still for the most part love the show and have watched it religiously since the very first day.

When Prison Break arrived last year, the first couple episodes made 24 look like it was on its way to becoming the first TV series to win a Novel Prize for literature. Compared to Prison Break, 24 made me want to say, “Big deal. I can see that happening.” That doesn’t mean I liked the tale of Michael Scofield, Lincoln Burrows et al more than the team at CTU; it just means the show was that much more absurd. However, it was also absurdly fun, and as every utterly ridiculous plot twist appeared, it was hard to not want to see what was coming next.

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THE STATE OF FOCUS

Just a brief note here since I trumpted my comeback and then have been quite inconsistent in my posting. I’m working on it. That’s all I can say. As I mentioned below, I actually did try to write about Miami Vice three times earlier this week, and I just really didn’t like what was coming out. The week was kind of busy, including many film and TV related activities, so I actually have a lot on this little pad by my side to write about. And I do intend to actually review much more of what I’ve seen, starting with my obvious love for some Snakes.

Another film opening today that I would encourage you check-out is The Illusionist. I’ll write something more thorough about it later. I didn’t love it, but it’s worth seeing, and it compelled me to check-out the short story by Steven Millhauser upon which it’s based; although I would say that “Eisenheim the Illusionist” is at best a minor inspiration for writer/director Neil Burger. (The story can be found in “The Barnum Museum,” a collection of similar-themed Millhauser stories.)

Also TK:
— Could I be any more excited about this year’s New York Film Festival program? No is not strong enough a word.
— Could I be any more excited about the recent news concerning Johnny Depp and Tim Burton doing Sweeny Todd? Maybe. I’m still processing, but intriguing … yes it is.
— Speaking of Depp, I hope Pirates 3 doesn’t suffer from the same bloated and unnecessary running time (that first hour could have been cut in half) as Pirates 2. It would be a shame for the Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy to suffer a Matrix-effect thanks to its sequels.

Anyway, lots more to come. I swear.

SNAKES ON A PLANE: MOTHEREFFING YES! THIS MOVIE HAS ‘EM

06_0718snakesonaplane_1The camera swoops over the ocean as the song “Lovely Day” plays in the background. It is, indeed, a lovely day. Glorious even, especially as the coast of Hawaii pops up on the horizon, inviting beaches and lush vegetation making you immediately want to leave the theater to go on a vacation. And then, simple enough, the white letters appear: Snakes on a Plane!

That’s right. Last night I ventured to the Regal Union Square for the 10 PM very first showing of the film that most industry professionals consider the litmus test for modern internet marketing. Snakes on a Plane, the Samuel L. Jackson starring, horror/airplane disaster flick that caused film web sites and bloggers to create an incredible amount of hype from the moment the title and star became known. Distributor New Line Cinema decided to test the true power of movie internet buzz; can films become huge hits simply through web-anticipation in much the same way as bloggers and the like have revolutionized the way bands break in the music industry? It’s well known that when a film isn’t screened for critics, it’s usually because the distributor is attempting to entice some audience to theaters before the film can be panned in the press. But in the case of Snakes on a Plane, New LIne proudly withheld the movie, and dare I say … rightly so, but not for fear of reviewers.

Don’t get me wrong; plenty of critics will despise this film, or some who seem to enjoy it (like the Post’s Kyle Smith) might think what makes Snakes on a Plane probably the most entertaining movie of the summer (and could wind up being the same for the entire year … yeah, that’s what I’m saying) is accidental. There is nothing accidental in Snakes on a Plane, just like there is no fear in New Line’s decision to let crazy audiences of teens and 20-somethings be the first to see the film at 10 PM screenings last night. As Jackson said to Jon Stewart on The Daily Show earlier this week when asked about the fact that critics weren’t given the chance to review the film, what more does anyone really need to know. It’s snakes. On a plane. Or rather, as has already become Jackson’s character FBI agent Nelville Flynn’s catchphrase, “I’ve had it with these mother fucking snakes on this mother fucking plane!”

Continue reading “SNAKES ON A PLANE: MOTHEREFFING YES! THIS MOVIE HAS ‘EM”

I’M SURE I’M LATE WITH THIS, BUT HOW EXCITING

Thank you Sony Pictures Classics. Let’s just start right there.

A couple days ago, I received one of those large advertisement postcards in the mail. You know the kind — the ones that usually are offering some discount on a Broadway show or subscription to a magazine. Well, this one was from Sony Classics announcing “Viva Pedro”: the rerelease of eight of Pedro Almodóvar’s films, all leading up to the November theatrical release of his latest, Volver.

I’ll admit … I was late to becoming an Almodóvar fan, not because I didn’t like his films but rather, until a few years ago, I hadn’t really seen them. That’s no longer the case, and I now marvel at his work, relishing whatever I’ve seen. It has been harder to catch-up recently because videos of his films have been in moratorium, I suppose in prepartion for this series which will undoubtedly lead to DVD releases of all, maybe even in a handy little box set.

But in the mean time, I will certainly be taking advantage of the opportunity to see each of these films on the big(ish) screen at the Lincoln Plaza. I t looks like they each will receive two-week runs, beginning today with the 1988 film which proved to be the director’s breakthrough in this country, Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown.

If you’re not in New York, check the vivapedro.com website as the series will be traveling around the country and not limited to us lucky souls (or those rather unlucky ones who live in LA).

WELCOME TO DOUBLE-DIGITS FRINGE!

Today is the opening of the 10th Annual New York International Fringe Festival. Ah, I remember when I turned 10, (Hey, I do! Just go with me here), and how excited I was to enter the realm of double-digits. Suddenly, I really was a big boy. Well, now New York’s largest theater festival is a big boy too.

Last year, I was I was all over this massive festival, seeing I can’t even remember how many shows (close to 20?) and writing about them for Gothamist. This year? Probably not as much. Besides, it snuck up on me, you know? I mean, just because FringeNYC has been emailing me info about its pending start for weeks (months?), it’s not like I actually … OK, it’s my fault. Time to buckle down and read that enormous program guide and see what seems worthy. As I mentioned last year, I was pleasantly surprised with how much more enjoyable an experience the Fringe had become since its earlier editions, utilizing some more comfortable spaces and, at least in my limited experience, presenting not nearly as much crap.

So, especially for you non-theater types out there, go support the Fringe and New York Theater. Sure, you’ll probably see something that will make you want to rip out your eyes, but you could also just as easily discover that previously unknown and totally unexpected (and salacious) little (card-like) gem that will make your day.

P.S.: If anyone knows anything about specific Fringe shows and can make suggestions of don’t miss titles — especially the unhyped ones — please don’t hesitate to let me know.

MISCELLANEOUS MISCELLANY: A LITTLE HOUSECLEANING

I’ve been sitting here today trying to write the long-awaited why-have-so-many-critics-drunk-the-Michael-Mann-Kool-Aid post, but I’m just too exhausted. Today I had my first session with a trainer. I decided that before I turn 35 (which is shockingly way too soon), I have to stop being such a lazy slob. But talk about reality standing up and bitch-slapping me across the face. Damn did it suck. And now, I’m so exhausted (also didn’t get enough sleep last night — thank you insomnia; no not either film; yes, that was lame).

So here are just a few little tidbits bouncing around my brain:

1) I’ve been trying for a while to get the domain outoffocus.com. Sadly, no luck. If you go there, you just get one of those random search pages, this one ostensibly controlled by a Jeep dealer I suppose. I’ve actually tried emailing the listed registered contact, but to no avail. outoffocus.net is taken too. I’m considering getting outoffocusblog.com, but … blech. I did happen to buy a while ago outoffocus.info, outoffocus.us and outoffocus.name a while ago because they were available for like 33 cents. So hey, if you want to get here, don’t use bookmarks, and think to type it, be my guest. It will all bring you to typepad … at least for the time being. Of course, if there’s someone out there who wants to help me design an actual good-looking site, I do have my own server space, just not enough of the technical know-how. So by “help,” I kind of mean, hear my brief idea and then set-it-up for me. And considering all the ad-dollars I pull in here (uhm, do you see any ads?), I can pay you only in college credit. And probably, not even that.

2) No, I have not had 9 Songs and The Beat That My Heart Skipped all this time. I’ve been burning my way through lots of Netflix discs, especially a few TV series. This summer has had to be the best summer television season in a long time, and discovering new shows has included playing catch-up with a few via DVD. I watched Prison Break pretty religiously during the season, but then they took that little hiatus, and when it came back, I was in Tribeca-rules-my-life-land. Sure, I DiVo’d all the episodes, but I was literally watching no tv, so things kept getting bounced off because Time Warner doesn’t yet offer a 100 hour DiVo. Hence, Prison Break is on its way.

3) I started this little DVD-watching project which isn’t going as well as it should be. I realized I have too many DVDs I haven’t watched much (if at all). Yet, I can’t help collecting more. So I decided to give myself a systematic way of watching them. First, I’m working my way through all my various boxed sets/collections, watching certain filmmakers/actors work in chronological order. Then I’m going to go through my other discs sorted by filmmaker, then all my Criterion discs, and then … I don’t know. But it’s a plan. The only reason I say it’s not going well is that I keep getting sidetracked by … well, my other Netflix rentals, various television, trying to actually read, plus all the other things I am/need to be/should be doing right now that are probably more important in the grand scheme of things. Anyway, that’s why you see so much Woody Allen on this list. Next up are “Astaire & Rogers Collection, Vol. 1” and “The Complete James Dean Collection”. (I was just thinking, “Will there ever be an “Astaire & Rogers Vol. 2″?” Yay!)

4) I saw a trailer for Stranger Than Fiction this weekend. Wow, does that look great. Wow, what an idea. Wow, it looks like another Charlie Kaufman/Spike Jonze or Michel Gondry partnership. Wow … Marc Forster? I mean … (sigh) … Marc Forster. I’m just not a big fan. I found his 2000 IFP Spirit Award-winning film Everything Put Together to be less moving and emotionally dramatic than over-stylized (for its story), tedious and just somewhat dull. I despised Monster’s Ball (no, I’m not overstating it; if you ask the people with me that night, I ranted for a good 30 minutes after leaving the theater). I actually liked Finding Neverland overall, but he still lets simple things like editing and camera set-up get in the way of just telling the story. (I’ll never forget the dog’s-eye view of the front door which served no purpose other than giving us … a dog’s-eye view of the front door.) I never actually got around to seeing Stay, although I did want to. I heard mixed reactions. Anyway, who knows from a trailer, but Stranger Than Fiction looks like a really imaginative and interesting story from playwright and new screenwriter (and former Lucy Liu fiance) Zach Helm, who Variety, Esquire and Fade In have all touted as the next big thing. Here’s hoping Forster takes a step beyond Neverland in his storytelling and doesn’t let the apparent whimsy of the story make him lose control and stop paying attention to the actual telling of it.

5) I live in New York, not Connecticut, but Joe Lieberman? Please. It would be “irresponsible and inconsistent with my principles” to quit, you say? What principles are those? The ones that had you lose an election and decide that’s not good enough? It’s just sleazy.

OH TO TORTURE MY SOUL AND MY EYES

060807_blackdahliaposterOK, so maybe that was a brief false start. But we’re not talking about it; we’re just moving on.

So a couple years ago, I wrote this post mentioning how dismayed I was by news of Brian De Palma’s directing and casting for The Black Dahlia, an adaptation of the James Ellroy novel, which happens to be one of my all-time favorite books. Then in December, as more casting news trickled out, I decided to write this love letter to Brian D., which, thanks to a few comments, brought upon this “comment on the comments” a couple days later.

I mention all this because The Black Dahlia re-entered my cinematic world before Miami Vice a week ago (here’s the trailer), and I don’t know if I have ever both anticipated and dreaded simultaneously like I do this one. (IMPT REQUEST: I would love to read a copy of this script. I guess the easiest thing would be to email Josh Friedman who wrote it, but … I’m lazy. Does anyone have a copy of the screenplay, close to shooting draft version? Or actually, I’d love to see both an early Friedman draft and a later shooting script. Yes … I’m obsessed. Hence my love for the book! If you know how I can get my hand on a copy, please contact me.)

I’m not going to repeat everything I mentioned in those earlier posts. I also don’t know that I completely agree with myself anymore about much of my casting criticisms. Of course, at the time, the role now played by Aaron Eckhart was to be either Mark Wahlberg or (ugh) Paul Walker. Eckhardt is a better actor for this role, although I still don’t know that I consider him a perfect fit. Scarlett Johansson and Hilary Swank are both talented enough to do something interesting with their roles, and having seen the trailer, Mia Kirshner (whose casting I always liked anyway) is absolute perfection as the Dahlia herself, Elizabeth Short.

DahliahartnettBut woe’s me, Josh Hartnett, upon whose shoulders and squinty-eyed-acting-non-abilities this whole story truly rests. The guy is an emotional sieve, and nothing in the otherwise gorgeous trailer encourages me otherwise.

I don’t put much stock in trailers in general. As I also wrote in late 2004 (wow, was I prolific then, huh?), teasers are quite aptly named. They’re just marketing tools, so obviously they’re going to look as good as possible. The trailer for The Black Dahlia seems to do a reasonably good job of representing and selling the movie. De Palma has certainly created a lush and visually exciting world, a representation of 1940s Los Angeles that I’m sure will ooze with noir elements and be as exciting, breathtaking and seemingly realistic as his 1920s Chicago was in The Untouchables. But dammit if Hartnett doesn’t come onscreen to ruin it ever other shot.

BlackdahliabookcoverI really do hope The Black Dahlia is a return for De Palma. I want this movie to be not just good but beyond great. It is a masterpiece of crime fiction that just happens to be inspired by the most tantalizing of unsolved cases. I encourage anyone and everyone to read Ellroy’s novel and to do so before seeing the movie only to experience the story with a completely untainted and prejudiced imagination. But as excited as I as to see little bits of these characters on screen, I still can’t help but feel that ultimately, I’m going to be disappointed because ultimately, as I’ve written before, I’ve utterly lost faith in De Palma as a storyteller. It’s scheduled for release on Sept. 15, almost exactly a week before my birthday. Maybe I’ll get a magnificent present from De Palma — a film that lets me rejoice in its greatness rather than rant through my disappointment. I won’t count on it, but I guess for now, that’s what I’ll wish for. On the other hand, maybe if I watch the entire film while squinting — just like Hartnett — none of it will be so bad after all.

WHILE I WAS OUT

There’s too much stuff that’s happened since I last regularly posted here. I’m not going to address everything. Why deliberately bore you in only my second return post. I’ve got plenty of time to do that. But there are a couple things I thought I’d mention.

Just in case you’re wondering, while I wasn’t writing, I also wasn’t reading. I mean, sure … I was reading; but I wound up taking this self-imposed yet unintentional hiatus from blogs. Just about all of them. I didn’t have the patience to read my whole bloglines collection on a daily basis. I didn’t know about the changes over at Gawker until a friend accidentally sent me a link to one post and I accidentally saw the “masthead” change. I have no idea what any of my esteemed web-friends have been writing, and I don’t think I can play catch-up now, so we’ll just start from scratch.

I also didn’t know that obviously some people are paying attention to my expertise. Why, it was only last December that I bemoaned the loss of The High Sign while also suggesting that Slate take Dana Stevens off television and make her their David Edelstein replacement. Woo hoo! So that happened … when? Recently I guess. (Also discovered by accident, cause as I said, haven’t been reading.) Dana is now officially my favorite New York based film critic because she’s smart, a great writer, non-pretentious, and she doesn’t try to show-off in each review. Congrats Dana (oh, and on that baby thing too)! Even if you too have somehow been fooled by The Cult of Mann (more on that tomorrow or Wednesday), I’m still very excited for you. Now, I’m not quite sure why Slate didn’t immediately try to fill Dana’s television shoes by making yours truly “Surferboy.” I mean, come on … I actually watch and like TV. How many television critics can actually say that. Anyway … moving on.

I’m also sure many of you have been asking yourself, “Hey … I wonder how Aaron is doing on this year’s “unattainable goal” which is actually looking more attainable than ever. The story began way back here, and then I gave a little recap of 2005 right here, on January 1. I’ve been assisted in 2006 by so much screening for Tribeca. Regardless, the rules this year are the same as last, and through today, I have watched (all the way through, from beginning to end, in one sitting, either in a theater, on video or via a cable channel that shows uncut sans commercials) 205 films. Now, I’m pretty sure that July 31 is day 212 of 2006, meaning that I’m basically right on track for averaging a movie a day. In fact, if I hadn’t just made the long overdue connection between Netflix and playing TV catch-up (yeah, that sidebar to the left this time is, in fact, way out of date), I’d probably have watched even more.

So … for those of you who need some help falling asleep tonight or those even fewer in numbers who actually have an interest in such a thing, after the jump you can take a chronological and in-no-other-way-sorted peek at what I’ve been watching. (You may notice some themes along the way. If you haven’t heard of the film and/or you can’t find it on IMDb, it was most likely a submission to this year’s festival — especially in January and February when I was watching little else.)

Continue reading “WHILE I WAS OUT”