Hail Caesar! review

With their new farce “Hail Caesar!” the Coen Brothers conjure up the glory and garishness of gimmicky 1950s Hollywood. Like their other broad comedies, such as the cult-hit “The Big Lebowski,” their Americana ode to The Odyssey “Oh Brother, Where Art Thou” and the still-underrated espionage spoof “Burn After Reading,” “Hail Caesar!” is less interested in tight storytelling or following a discernable plot than it is with putting a genre’s idiosyncrasies under a microscope and under zooming in until they appear absurd.  There’s a love displayed for the type of bloated studio-era schlock that the Joel and Ethan are spoofing and that love shines through in perfect recreations of iconic film moments and stock genre tropes. In fact, the verisimilitude of the spoof is so earnest in its presentation that the comedy often gets lost in the movie’s high-concept production values.

If there is a single story to follow it’s that of Josh Brolin as a studio executive named Eddie Mannix - a no-nonsense busy-body who’s trying to juggle a handful of large film projects being mounted on the lot of Capital Pictures. The key film in development is a roman swords-and-sandals epic that features big-time prestige actor Baird Whitlock, played by George Clooney as a witless Charlton Heston type. The production is put on hold when an extra kidnaps the actor and holds him for ransom at a nearby beach mansion, occupied by a group of disgruntled Hollywood writers turned communist.  Alden Erhenreich plays a country bumpkin movie star who also finds himself caught up in the mystery.

There’s no lack of whimsy here and the movie is full of moments of pure exhilaration within its reimagining of Hollywood cinema, including the best song and dance sequence I’ve seen in the last 15 years, starring Channing Tatum and a group of actors dressed as sailors. Key scenes play out like sketch comedy, such as a silly dialogue set-piece between a small group of preachers, priests, and rabbis who are brought in to share their opinions on the depiction of Christ in one of the movies within the movie, as well as another scene in which Erhenreich tries to choke down his thick southern accent for a director played by Ralph Fiennes after getting cast last-minute in a formal costume drama.

Had these scenes, or the many others like them, existed without the connective tissue of the plot to justify their use within the film,  they could support themselves as Funny or Die videos or SNL digital shorts. The movie never quite gels as a story because said connective tissue--Josh Brolin and George Clooney’s overarching plot—is never tended to with the same amount of interest or care.  As the audience’s cypher Brolin never drums up enough pathos or relatability, or even enough of his own comedic presence—like, say, Jeff Bridges does as ‘The Dude’—to pull together all of the competing plot threads and many muddled themes regarding industry politics, personal morals and religion. That said, you can never ding the Coens for lack of trying.

Ehrenreich as the dopey Hobie Doyle, Tilda Swinton as a pair of yellow journalist twins and Scarlett Johansson as a jaded starlet all give loopy, mannered performances that live up the bigness of the movie’s comedic style, and if the “Hail Caesar!” had used one of them to follow as our main character, instead of Brolin’s bland almost-detective, it may have created a better sense of dramatic traction. The larger than life aesthetic gags are too slick and impressive on a technical level to register as comedy and a movie this big and this silly can’t sustain cinematic parlor tricks on this kind of scale without being a lot funnier. Ironically, the final result is a film that resembles the type of bloated, misguided star vehicles that the Coens are working so hard to send up.

Grade: C+

Originally Published in the Idaho State Journal/Feb-2016

Listen to more discussion about "Hail Caesar!" on this week's Jabber and the Drone Podcast.

Steve Jobs review

Writer Aaron Sorkin (“The West Wing”) and director Danny Boyle (“Trainspotting”) have teamed up to tell the story of Apple CEO and proto-Ted-Talker “Steve Jobs.” Given the success Sorkin had with his previous techie biopic “The Social Network,” in which he won an Oscar for his adapted screenplay about the creator of Facebook Mark Zuckerberg, his connection to this project makes a lot of sense. Perhaps it’s not the boldest or the most unconventional move for the writer to make at this point in his career, but you can always guarantee that if Sorkin is going to tread water he’ll do so with the grace and agility of an Olympic swimmer.

Like David Fincher, who was considered an edgier genre auteur at the time he agreed to direct “The Social Network,” Boyle’s involvement with this subject matter exists a little farther outside of his comfort zone. His hyper-kinetic visual choices and the psychologically subjective character portraits that have generally defined his style are sheathed to service a very dialogue-centric screenplay, where characters often say everything they’re thinking and feeling before the camera has time to imply it.

The structure of this movie is the most interesting thing about it. Each act of the film takes place during a different launch of Apple technology; starting with the Macintosh 128k in 1984, the NeXT in 88 and finally the iMac in 1998, that helped pull the company out of dire straits after failing to compete with Microsoft for a significant stint of time. Each of these launches play out like separate one-act stage performances where Steve Jobs, played fantastically by the enigmatic Michael Fassbender, is forced to deal with the stresses of his life and consequences of his career achievements, only moments before he’s supposed to unveil his company’s latest gamble. Each time, we are introduced to the same set of personalities that circle Jobs’ world.

Like his Zuckerberg, Sorkin’s take on Steve Jobs is that of a man who is haunted by own hubris, leaving a pile of smoldering bridges behind him as he blazes down the path of his own ambition. In repeating the same beats, revealing these moments of frustration before every new unveiling, the movie is instantly charged with a sense of nervous anticipation. 

All the actors are working hard for supper here, delivering the hyper-verbose Sorkinese dialogue like they don’t have time to get it wrong. Seth Rogen plays the humble but frustrated Apple Co-creator and engineer Steve Wozniac, who wants, and cannot get, a measly shout-out for his team’s Apple II contributions. Michael Stuhlbarg plays an approval-starved engineer who tried to stand in for Steve’s conscience and Kate Winslet plays a type-A work-wife named Joanna Hoffman, who’s desperately trying to keep the world from crumbling under her boss’s feet, even as he stomps through people’s sensitives in defiance.  Jeff Daniels steps in as a financier who also doubles as a father-figure for the so-called genius, all while, at the same time, Jobs carries on an arms-length relationship with his daughter, whom he initially refused to call his own.

Believe it or not, the bigger of a jerk the character of “Steve Jobs” is, the more interesting he is to watch. The movie only stumbles when it tries to humanize him too much, including a final ten minutes that tries to cowardly soften the blow of the two hours of shrewd and uncompromising self-assurance exhibited before it. The moments of dramatic weight come from a tension that exists between the high-stakes of Jobs’ vision to see his products perform well and the emotionally drained lives around the character that are begging for the same level of attention. This unfortunate cop-out of an epilogue is somewhat destabilizing, but not a big enough knock on the film to ruin it completely. 

Everything we see here—the writing, the directing and the performances—should be expected from the high level of talent involved and perhaps the fact that the movie doesn’t exceed expectations makes it feel as though it’s less accomplished. That notion is a mirage based on the unfair reality that this project was released after “The Social Network,” but a silver metal is nothing to be ashamed of.

Grade: B+

Originally Printed in the Idaho State Journal/Oct-2015

Black Mass review

“Black Mass” is essentially a traditional rise and fall gangster drama within the aesthetic of the American gothic experience. Director Scott Cooper tries to subvert the film’s familiar trappings by setting in place a tension within the story where I we know the two main characters are damned to failure from the first scene.  Considering the clever set-up and the movie’s all-star cast, the fact that the story almost broods to a complete stop by the second act is as befuddling as it is a jaw-dropping disappointment.  

Johnny Depp plays James “Whitey” Bulger, the Boston crime-lord who inspired Jack Nicholson’s Frank Costello character from Martin Scorsese’s 2006 Oscar-winning film “The Departed.” And while Depp is every bit as unhinged and deranged here, the portrayal is decidedly less animated. Joel Edgerton plays opposite as John Connolly, a shady FBI agent who lets Bulger does as he pleases, so long as he continues to sell out the Italian Mafioso that’s moving in to the Boston streets. With his brother Billy Bulger (Benedict Cumberbatch) in a position of local political power, Whitey is given a legal hall-pass by both the state and federal authorities to become one of the most powerful and dangerous east-coast gangsters of 70s and 80s.  Nevertheless, Bulger’s paranoia gets the best of him and both his criminal brethren and the cooperating agents of the FBI are in constant fear of triggering his scorn.

Cooper’s vision of this story is interested in investigating the interiority of the characters and exploring how they click within their world of broken rules and the hypocrisy of their familial street-code. This means on a genre-level things tend to skew more towards “The Godfather” side of the gangster spectrum than it does “Goodfellas.” Given this approach, there are far too many story and production choices that orient things toward the broad surfaces. The all-star ensemble and the constant walk-ons by known character-actors like Corey Stoll, Adam Scott, Rory Cochrane, Peter Sarsgaard and Juno Temple spread the story too thin to effectively delve into the tense relationship between Depp and Edgerton as the leads. With a timeline that spans decades and multiple character perspectives to shift to and from, the movie never becomes the deep character study it thinks it is.

Despite this structural flaw, Depp’s performance is nuanced and appropriately pitched to the tone of the film, and in many sequences he is quite engaging without defaulting to his usual post-Pirates affections, but his Dracula-esq make-up design becomes so distracting that it often blocks whatever subtly there is to appreciate in his delivery.  Off and on the rest of the cast have their moments to shine and individual scenes of conversation work well on their own when Cooper is afforded to do what he does best - zeroing in on performance and dialogue. When it comes to the overall big-picture and the execution of the screenplay, the movie unfortunately fails to drum up enough drama to fuel the narrative.

Emotionally “Black Mass” doesn’t work like it should, but the movie isn’t a total wash either. It was nice to see Depp given something juicy to bite into as an actor and to play to his actual age, but Cooper seems out of step with many elements of the film as a director and often conflicts with the base genre elements of the story.

Grade: C-

Originally Published in the Idaho State Journal/Oct-2015

Jurassic World review

Steven Spielberg’s “Jurassic Park” is a monument in populist filmmaking, executed by a guy who’s made a few of those in his career. Released in 1993, it was one of the first landmarks of computer animation and one of the last in robotic puppetry, and on both accounts it still looks more convincing than almost anything before or after it's release. It might not be the most thematically heavy or ‘important’ movie that Spielberg ever made—it’s easy to forget that “Schindler’s List” came out the same year, winning best picture—but it may very well be the most satisfying and tightly constructed effects movie within his catalog.

The damn thing came out 22 years ago and it still holds up! In fact, it’s so good that no amount of mediocre or unnecessary sequels has seemed to damage its reputation, which is a relief since “Jurassic World” is the worst and certainly most expensive offender.

While “Jurassic Park” was adapted from a slab of airport fiction by writer Michael Crichton, “Jurassic World” just seems to be an adaption of “Jurassic Park.” In the first film Sam Neil was forced to deal with his fear of raising children by having to save the lives of the park owner’s grandchildren. Here, Bryce Dallas Howard plays Claire, an aloof, child-phobic careerist, working for a now rebooted and revamped park that’s totally open to the public. She’s then forced to deal with her priorities when one of the genetically-enhanced super-dinos escapes from its enclosure with her neglected nephews (Nick Robertson, Ty Simpkin) lost in the park. Chris Pratt plays Owen, a big-hearted, hard-headed Velociraptor trainer who volunteers to help Claire find the kids before they’re turned into lunch. Pratt’s doing his best to choke down some exceedingly bad dialogue, with his tongue firmly pressed against his cheek, but it’s hard to ignore that his paper-thin character is essentially a combination of Jeff Goldblum’s flirty, rock-star scientist character Ian Malcolm and the somewhat underwritten Australian raptor specialist from the first film.

These similarities and call-backs are played all throughout the movie in way that feels less like loving homage and more like a shrewdly devised appeal to nostalgia, and it's a serious problem when a movie spends more time on fan service than it does telling its own story. Jake Johnson playing  a handsome but useless nerd wearing the old logo on his T-Shirt in the park’s control room is a reasonable wink, but the complete restaging of the first's film's rainy Jeep scene, with the new kids now attacked in a Plexiglas, motorized ball, comes off as desperate and irritating. these echos go on and on. Instead of slowing down the plot to inspect a sick triceratops we now have an injured (fake looking) longneck of some sort; Vincent D'onofrio plays the new greedy industrialist who’s looking to exploit the dinosaurs, and we’re even given another chaos-theory speech.

Making matters worse, the film is constantly alluding to its own themes by employing the most on-the-nose references, where characters actually ask out-loud why kids these days can’t be entertained by regular, cataloged dinosaurs. Part of the plot deals with corporations that engineer their own breeds of designer dinosaurs so that they can own a piece of park though sponsorship, and the film has the gall to portray this as soulless cynicism while bombarding us with vulgar product placement--never mind the fact that the movie itself was made by a studio owned by a massive media corporation (NBC/Universal).

It could be argued that the film’s subtext was supposed to be read as cleverly-coded commentary on the studio system by an indie filmmaker (“Safety Not Guaranteed” director Colin Trevorrow),  giving the middle finger to the ‘man’ from within, if it weren’t so bloody obvious, hypocritical and trite in it's execution.

The best moments of “Jurassic World” are the ones that require no attachment to the characters--as they barely exist—and instead lean on the campy joy of mid-level monster animation. When pterodactyls are released from their aviary and start to swarm on crowds of tourists, the movie almost resembles the no-plot-no-consequence joy of Syfy Channel mock-busters like “Birdemic” and “Sharknado.” At its worst, it’s lazily written, blandly acted, tonally confused, and achingly mercenary.

Grade - D+

Originally Published in the idaho State Journal/May-2015