No, this was not a Wife's Choice. In fact, Jamie hated the movie far more than I did.
For years the line on Channing Tatum was that he was one of those guys who "killed in the room," which is to say that when he sat down with casting directors or producers he was charming and funny and likable and (obviously) good looking. Putting him in your movie seemed like a no brainer. But once cameras started rolling it was Tatum himself who appeared to lack brain activity. He came off stiff, boring and he had no chemistry with anyone. The guy was pretty much unwatchable.
When I tell that story to my future kids, they're never going to believe me.
Just a few years later Tatum is not only watchable, he's magnetic. He's got personality oozing out his perfect cheekbones and on top of all that he's fucking hilarious. In fact, I find myself inordinately excited for movies like White House Down simply because of Tatum's presence. There are two movies we can credit for suddenly propelling his career to the next level and they were both released in 2012. The first is Phil Lord and Chris Miller's brilliant 21 Jump Street, one of the funniest movies released that year. The second is Steven Soderbergh's stripper anthem Magic Mike.
In Jump Street Tatum is paired with Jonah Hill, playing a physically adept but intellectually stunted cop. Hill does the real emotional heavy lifting in the film, leaving Tatum free to look cool in the action scenes and be generally hilarious. That's not to minimize his comedic skills; before Jump Street you could not have convinced me that the man would be able to match humorous wits with Carrot Top, let alone Jonah Hill. But you can tell that, as opposed to something like G.I. Joe: Rise Of Cobra, the pressure is largely off here. Tatum is absolutely essential to the film's greatness but he doesn't have to carry the thing single-handedly. Without that weight on his shoulders, he's able to really loosen up and be the guy who wins over producers so easily.
There's a similar factor at play in Magic Mike. The script by Reid Carolin was largely influenced by Tatum's own experiences as a Florida stripper before he got into modeling and later acting. The fact that he's in a familiar world here goes a long way towards elevating Tatum's comfort on camera, but so does the copious amount of dancing. Just like we all go to Michael Bay movies to see shit explode, a big part of the draw here is seeing good looking, muscular dudes show off their assets on stage. But this isn't just grinding and ass-shaking, this is legitimate dancing with impressive choreography and Tatum is more than equipped handle the challenge. He and the other dancers really shine whenever they're up in front of the screaming ladies of Tampa, dressed in a variety of amusing costumes that range from Tarzan to cowboys to Tatum's shirtless paramilitary getup.
Again, it's as if knowing that he's got a handful of ace dance numbers up his sleeve gives Tatum the freedom to be himself throughout the scripted stuff. He's got an easy, almost goofy charm as Magic Mike that makes you simply fall in love with the guy as he struggles to leave the stripping life behind in favor of his dream career of designing and building custom furniture. He's got two love interests in the form of Olivia Munn as his frequent booty call and Cody Horn as the sister of his protege "The Kid" played by Alex Pettyfer. Tatum has an easy rapport with both actresses and the relationship with the no-nonsense Horn (who's a dead ringer for Missy Peregrym) works precisely because it's kept to a minimum. We don't get any of the cliched, expected story beats given the set-up (they fall for each other, her brother gets pissed and lashes out, etc) and it never feels like the story hinges on whether or not they get together. All they have to do is make each other laugh and look hot walking on the beach.
Then again, the story doesn't really hinge on much of anything, which is precisely what drove Jamie up a wall. The movie sort of meanders around a couple of half-hearted plotlines without ever focusing on any of them. There's Mike's furniture-based aspirations, his constant hustling at a half dozen jobs, his mentorship-turned-rivalry with The Kid, his double edged relationship with Matthew McConaughey's Dallas* and his romance with The Kid's nurse sister. Throw in a drug overdose and a violent shakedown with some dealers and you end up with a collection of vapor stories that never quite coalesce into a full-blown plot. I enjoyed Tatum's performance and Soderbergh's sharp eye enough that I was willing to overlook it to a certain degree, but I can see why Jamie found it so frustrating to watch. But in a way that seems like an even bigger test of an actor's ability. Can they give a performance that elevates a mediocre script into a movie worth watching?** That takes a special kind of something.
I think that Tatum has a lot of room to grow and I mean that in the best way possible. He can clearly handle both comedy and action. Careers have been built on far less. I'm actually curious to see Tatum really start to stretch himself dramatically in the future. He recently did nice work in the high school reunion flick 10 Years, and perhaps he'd benefit by doing some more ensemble pictures where he can soak in the work of some talented veterans. He was pushed into starring roles pretty quickly when he might have been better served by paying his dues and slowly working his way up the Hollywood ladder. But I think that the driven aspect of Magic Mike, the guy who's always working and willing to go in any direction and seize any opportunity to achieve his goals is also true of Tatum himself. He certainly doesn't seem interested in coasting on his success and the guy seems up for just about anything, as evidenced by his absurd appearance in one of this summer's biggest comedies. Tatum's got the Wachowskis' sci-fi epic Jupiter Ascending coming next year and, after being totally floored by Cloud Atlas, I'm fascinated to see what kind of performance Andy and Lana are able to coax out of him. No matter where Tatum goes from here, it's sure to be an interesting journey.
And I'm totally on board.
*Also not to be undersold is McConaughey's performance. Dallas is one of those roles that simply couldn't be played by anyone else - for shit's sake, at one point he comes out on stage with bongos. The guy is on a cinematic hot streak the likes of which I've never seen and right now I'm just enjoying the ride... **To be clear, Tatum is only half the reason Magic Mike works as well as it does. The other half is Soderbergh, whose direction and cinematography are frankly superb. His adoption of the digital aesthetic really works here, with the dark sheen of the strip club standing in stark contrast to the hazy golden Florida exteriors.
--------------------------------------- Title: Magic Mike Director: Steven Soderbergh Starring: Channing Tatum, Alex Pettyfer, Matthew McConaughey, Cody Horn, Olivia Munn, Matthew Bomer, Joe Manganiello Year Of Release: 2012 Viewing Method: HBO HD
So last Memorial Day weekend Jamie and I got married, and during the reception my college friend Jared came up to me and said, "I hope you don't have plans for your first anniversary, because that's the day of my wedding."
I'm astounded that it's been a year already.
And so we celebrated our first anniversary by celebrating the marriage of our dear friends Jared and Karyn in Connecticut. Since Jared is a huge Wes Anderson fan, there was Mark Mothersbaugh music playing before the ceremony started. I thought our ceremony was pretty quick, clocking in around 25 minutes, but they blew us out of the water. Ten minutes all in, but it definitely didn't feel lacking in any way. It was actually quite lovely, held in an earthy wooden chapel location at a private club with the reception in a sort of lodge-type building complete with large fireplaces and oversized leather couches. Our dinner table was situated right next to the photo booth, so needless to say we took many, MANY pictures which we put in their photostrip guest book along with numerous nerdy quotes from Doctor Who, Community and Batman. And since we were close to the door, we also had prime seats for the entrance of the wedding party, set to the theme from The Price Is Right with each bridesmaid and groomsman wearing the appropriate giant yellow name tag. We only knew one other couple at the wedding and, since they had an early flight the next morning, they had to split early. It's kind of an odd thing to be at a wedding where you don't really know anyone other than the bride and groom, but we were able to stave off any potential awkwardness. At our wedding, Jared and I launched into an impromptu re-enactment of the dance routine for "Shake A Tailfeather" from The Blues Brothers. Jared had warned me that an encore performance would be in order, so I came prepared with the appropriate hat and glasses. It was a showstopper. Finally, in the ultimate classy move, they had the DJ wish Jamie and me a happy first anniversary and then play our wedding song, "To Make You Feel My Love" by Billy Joel. I honestly can't imagine a better possible way to celebrate our marriage than at another fantastic wedding, and since we got married over a holiday weekend at the beginning of spring, I suspect that it's not the last anniversary we'll spend that way.
Since the wedding was at night and only about two hours away, we decided we'd just drive down that afternoon, giving me plenty of time to squeeze a movie in before the festivities. I figured it should be something wedding themed and settled on Four Weddings & A Funeral, a much beloved film that I really have no good reason for never having seen. I was only eleven when it was released and British romantic comedies were not exactly in my wheelhouse at that time. Ace Ventura was more my speed. But as for the ensuing years, I can only blame my various girlfriends for never having sat me down to watch it. At some point I sort of assumed that the film was probably overrated, having gotten bored with Hugh Grant's well meaning, bumbling English playboy routine and having never understood the appeal of Andie MacDowell in the first place. (I do admit I kind of love her in Hudson Hawk, but I love everything about that movie.)
Having now seen the movie, my opinion remains largely unchanged. I don't have a particular problem with it, I guess I just don't see what all the fuss is about. Granted that might not be a totally fair assessment speaking from the perspective of 2013. Four Weddings helped spawn an entire British invasion of rom-coms, including huge hits like Notting Hill and Love Actually. I've seen most of those successors more than once, so perhaps I simply can't appreciate their forebearer's novelty at the time. Hugh Grant is probably the perfect embodiment of that potential conundrum: this is the movie that put him on the map, but having seen him play variations on this same character in a half dozen other movies that came later, his performance here just feels par for the course.
The most interesting element to me was the storytelling device of the actual weddings (and the funeral). The longer the first wedding played out, the more invested I got in the idea that every scene of the movie would take place at either a wedding or a funeral. That actually felt like an interesting structure and a very cool way to tell a story. But alas, it was not to be. The movie sticks pretty close to that concept, but as soon as we cut to scenes of Hugh Grant running into Andie MacDowell and helping her shop for a wedding dress, I got kind of disenchanted. I understand the need to give the two characters more screen time, that the audience wants to see him woo her away from her stuffy Scottish fiancee, but it actually served to dissipate the narrative tension for me. Especially because the second wedding, when he discovers that she's engaged, is so much shorter than the rest. I'd have rather seen them spend extra time together at that wedding. Perhaps her older groom-to-be gets tired and goes to bed before everyone else, leaving Grant and MacDowell more time together. Yeah, you'd probably have to sacrifice something like Grant being stuck in the room while the new bride and groom have sex, but that's certainly a trade I would have been willing to make.
The funeral is, of course, pretty devastating. I was a little unclear on the implications of Gareth and Matthew's relationship. Are we supposed to believe that none of the friends knew they were gay? Or perhaps they simply didn't realize the two were in a relationship? Both situations seem a bit farfetched in any group of friends as close as these folks appear to be, but at least I can appreciate this subplot as being pretty cutting edge for 1994, two years before DOMA would establish that only opposite sex marriages would be recognized by the U.S. federal government. It's remarkable just how far the gay rights movement has come in less than twenty years. A scene that was probably somewhat controversial at the time would now be considered by most to be no big deal at all and that gives me tremendous hope. I have no doubt that, within my lifetime, I'll see gay marriage become a federally protected right of every citizen in this country, while those individuals who cling to the homophobic beliefs of yesteryear become rightly relegated to the extreme margins of the American mainstream.
But Four Weddings was perfectly lovely and sweet, a great movie to get me in the mood to celebrate not just one, but two marriages that day. And from this point on, if either Jared or I manage to forget our joint anniversary, we'll only have each other to blame.
--------------------------------------- Title: Four Weddings & A Funeral Director: Mike Newell Starring: Hugh Grant, Andie MacDowell, Simon Callow, John Hannah, Kristin Scott Thomas, James Fleet, Rowan Atkinson Year Of Release: 1994 Viewing Method: DVD (TV & Laptop)
I love it when actors are willing to go way the hell out on an experimental limb, and I have to give Joaquin Phoenix and Casey Affleck credit, because if nothing else they definitely commit to this absurd charade and take it to the extreme.
But, no. This is fucking terrible.
My reaction is certainly colored by the fact that I knew this entire actor-turned-rapper pratfall was staged from the beginning, but then again that story broke before the film ever screened for an audience. There was such public resentment at the time that I thought perhaps being a little removed from the actual events would give me a better appreciation for Affleck and Phoenix were really going for, but such is just not the case. We all remember Phoenix's now infamous appearance on David Letterman while promoting the film Two Lovers. Even watching it just now it made me laugh, but that's mostly due to Letterman's sublime handling of his standoffish guest. ("I'll come to your house and chew gum...") Phoenix makes himself so incredibly vile and unlikable that I have to imagine his agents and publicists (who show up exasperated throughout the film) must have been crying themselves to sleep every night trying to figure out how they'd rehabilitate his image when it was all over. (His breathtaking performance in The Master certainly helped.) In fact, I had to keep reminding myself that the guy is just playing a character because his bearded alter ego is such a tremendous asshole that you actually start to hate Phoenix himself. You can be pissed at him for making a subpar mockumentary, but it's unfair to judge the real Phoenix for his contrived onscreen exploits. It's a gutsy/stupid move that probably should have backfired on him even worse than it actually did.
I enjoyed seeing Ben Stiller come over to pitch him Greenberg, and when Edward James Olmos shows up to give him emotional council, it made me wish that I could somehow convince Bill Adama to be my personal spirit animal. On the other hand, the bits where he tries to convince Diddy to produce his album just made me pity the hip-hop impresario for somehow getting roped into this awkwardly fumbled subterfuge. But the majority of the film's running time is filled with Phoenix and his two lackeys either fucking around in his giant house or whining about who may or may not be telling the press that he's faking the whole thing. By the time Phoenix is on stage in Miami and fighting with hecklers, the entire affair just feels like a tremendous waste of time.
At one point, Phoenix's disgruntled assistant squats over him in his sleep and shits on his face, so at least he knows how the audience feels after watching I'm Still Here.
If you haven't seen this movie, I'm envious.
--------------------------------------- Title: I'm Still Here Director: Casey Affleck Starring: Joaquin Phoenix, Casey Affleck, Antony Langdon, Sean Combs, Ben Stiller, Edward James Olmos, David Letterman Year Of Release: 2010 Viewing Method: Netflix Instant (laptop)
"Did I ever tell you about the time I gave a command performance for Hitler?"
When Jamie told me that her Wife's Choice pick was An American In Paris, she immediately followed it with, "You're going to hate it."
She knows me so well.
Any of my friends can tell you that I am simply not a fan of the genre. I'll admit that there are a few musicals that I really do enjoy, but I'm talking about nerdy stuff like Dr. Horrible, anything with the Muppets, the musical episode of Buffy The Vampire Slayer titled "Once More With Feeling" and The Blues Brothers. (Not only is it one of my favorite movies, but as far as I'm concerned it's the best musical I've ever seen.) Considering my fondness for karaoke, my college a cappella background and my degree in theater studies, it might seem strange that I would harbor such vitriol for the musical form, but my complaint is very simple: I simply can't get on board with the convention of characters suddenly breaking out into an elaborate song and dance routine. I think it almost always stops a scene's momentum dead in its tracks. Moreover, since the song usually comes in right at the emotional high point, I get really frustrated when I'm really engrossed in a really dramatic or romantic moment, only to be abruptly jarred out of it by something so incredibly mannered and artificial.
The counter argument, which Jamie has made to me on numerous occasions, is that the characters are so overcome with emotion, be it happy or sad, that normal human interaction just isn't enough. They can only adequately express themselves using song and dance. Sorry, but no dice. Rather than enhance a scene, I think it deflates the scene. Human beings have so many fascinating ways of communicating their thoughts and feelings that actually occur in real life, and that's the stuff that I find truly interesting. Whether watching a movie or in my day to day reality, I never find myself wishing that people would suddenly bust out into musical routines just to convey themselves to the world. It never feels necessary.* The bigger the musical number, the more annoyed I tend to get.
An American In Paris is everything that drives me bonkers about musicals, cranked up 1000%. Aside from the fact that it starts out with voiceover from three different narrators and then totally drops the convention five minutes later, the story itself is fairly dull, with very little real conflict between characters. Gene Kelly is charming of course, and I actually loved his "dance" where he wakes up and sets up his apartment for the day in a series of fluid, choreographed movements. That actually felt really clever. Unfortunately it was all downhill from there.
In a way, An American In Paris isn't even really a movie so much as it's a recital with a few scenes between songs. The characters do not sing and dance as a means of communication, in lieu of a conversation. Instead they just break into song appropos of nothing, to no specific end. Gene Kelly sings "Who Could Ask For Anything More" with a crowd of French kids for no other reason than it's adorable. A man describes his girlfriend to an old friend while we see multiple iterations of an imaginary version of her dancing to illustrate to every adjective. Eventually Gene Kelly's piano playing friend, who is at best tangential to the plot, imagines himself as every member of an orchestra in concert, which goes on for about ten solid minutes, contributing absolutely nothing to the story at hand. But that's nothing compared to the film's finale. After the woman Gene Kelly loves walks out on him, he imagines himself in his own sketch of a Paris fountain, which then morphs into a bizarre fever dream of wordless technicolor dance numbers FOR TWENTY MINUTES. He then snaps back to reality to find that his ladyfriend has returned to him, just because. Fade to black.
How did this film win an Academy Award for Best Picture?
That's not to take anything away from Gene Kelly's incredible dancing or the lush, colorful set and costume design of the finale. It's beautiful craftsmanship and superbly executed. But I'm sorry, there's just no excuse for spending the final twenty minutes of your movie engaged in an imagined dance routine that has no emotional stakes or bearing on the plot of any kind. That shit is not only lazy, it's boring.
Maybe it's a generational thing. Obviously Kelly was a huge star and beloved by everyone, so maybe the audience for this movie didn't give a shit about plot and story and just came to see awesome dancing. If that's the case, An American In Paris certainly delivers. But that also kind of makes it the musical equivalent of Transformers: Revenge Of The Fallen - all overwhelming spectacle with nothing below the surface. Yeah it's visually impressive and on a certain level it's entertaining, but ultimately who gives a shit? It may have been a different era, but this is a timeless criticism. Story is should always be king, so I don't feel guilty judging past audiences for liking Paris. After all, I expect our children will rightly judge us for Michael Bay's mechanical monstrosities.
At least Gene Kelly doesn't have giant robot testicles.
*Not to step into a giant hornet's nest, but this is pretty much how I feel about religion. While the idea of a benevolent supreme being is certainly nice and reassuring, it feels like an obvious human invention. The universe operates on a series of laws and it's certainly able to function whether there is a god or not. Both belief in God and love of musicals feel like a dream of how people wish the world could be, so it suddenly seems obvious that I'm skeptical of both.
--------------------------------------- Title: An American In Paris Director: Vincente Minnelli Starring: Gene Kelly, Leslie Caron, Oscar Lavant, Georges Guetary, Nina Foch Year Of Release: 1951 Viewing Method: DVD
Chances are, as soon as you saw the first trailer for This Is The End, in which Seth Rogen and friends play themselves dealing with the end of the world, you knew immediately whether or not it was your cup of tea. Seth Rogen, James Franco, Danny McBride...these guys have all become pretty polarizing comedians at this point - either you think they're brilliantly funny or you're instantly turned off by their particular brand of shenanigans. I'll admit that I'm in the first camp, and even when they do something that doesn't really work (Green Hornet) or struggles to find its audience (Your Highness), they're so willing to dip into the realm of the truly weird that the results are almost always interesting at the very least. That being said, I think that This Is The End is going to be writer/director/star Seth Rogen's biggest commercial hit in years and pave the way for him to keep making the kind of modestly budgeted films that he seems so well suited for.
I want to try a new approach here, call it the Daley Q&A. To be clear, this is basically a conversation with myself, but the next time I go to an advanced screening, I'll try to gather questions from you trusty readers. Without further ado...
Q: Is it funny?
A: Hells to the yes, and in the most immature, sophomoric way possible. This movie might be the epitome of phallic humor. It feels like there was a lot of riffing in certain bits (particularly one back and forth exchange between Franco and McBride) that perhaps could have benefited from some sharper editing. That's not to say I wasn't laughing throughout, but every joke seemed to go on for two or three lines longer than necessary and I often found myself marveling that the scene was still going on. But I don't really mind a shaggy comedy so long as the jokes are hitting. And boy, do they ever hit. In terms of laughs per minute, this is probably the funniest commercial comedy* of the year so far, much to the chagrin of The Hangover Part III.
Q: Doesn't the whole, "everyone's playing themselves" bit feel a little self-indulgent?
A: Actually, no. Everyone's smartly playing a fictional, exaggerated version of themselves and in almost every case, that character cleverly pokes fun at their own public persona. McBride, Robinson and Franco each kind of take their own recognizable shticks to the extreme - Franco is annoyingly artsy, Robinson is big teddy bear with a dirty mind, and McBride is a post-apocalyptic Kenny Powers, with probably the best onscreen entrance(s) you'll see in a theater this summer. But I have to admit that the one who's stuck with me is Jonah Hill. He goes off at a complete right angle, playing something that's so wonderfully twisted you almost can't fully appreciate it as it's happening. It's the kind of performance that I expect will reward repeat viewings, getting funnier the second and third time around.
Q:Who's got the best celebrity cameo/death scene?
A: The first 20 minutes are absolutely packed with familiar faces. Some get extended sequences, while others literally show up for five seconds, but almost every one of them is both funny and on point, like Jason Segel complaining about how bad How I Met Your Mother has gotten while Kevin Hart laughs at the show's mediocre jokes. Everyone's going to be talking about Michael Cera and rightly so, ("Does this cocaine smell funny?") but David Krumholtz actually has my favorite of all the celebrity deaths. When Rihanna fell into a bottomless chasm, most of the theater cheered, although I couldn't tell you why. (Do people secretly hate her? Did I accidentally attend a screening for Chris Brown fans? I don't get it.) Oh yeah, and there's a brilliant cameo late in the film which absolutely DESTROYS. Don't look at IMDb and don't let anyone spoil it for you.
Q:So can Seth Rogen actually direct?
A: Impressively so. Despite appearances this is a really ambitious film, which makes its ultimate success all the more impressive. Not only do Rogen and Goldberg tackle the apocalypse with gusto, but they also throw in monsters, exorcisms, roving cannibals and all sorts of other fun genre staples. It might sound like they're just throwing everything against the wall to see what sticks, but it actually escalates in such a way that, by the time you get to the final conflict, it somehow feels earned. Not only that, but they employ a really effective tactic to keep the film moving along. Whenever the emotional conflict between the two leads starts to escalate, the argument will be abruptly interrupted mid-sentence by some kind of explosion or earthquake that hurls everyone into the next challenge while propelling the story's momentum. It's a smart choice that actually feels somewhat fresh and innovative.
Q: How much apocalypse do we really get to see?
A: Most of the film keeps it pretty small scale, limiting the action to in and around Franco's house, although the third act goes pretty damn big, including one image that will sear itself into your brain for days. You can tell that Rogen, Goldberg and producer/star Jay Baruchel are real fans of the apocalypse sub-genre because they really treat that part of the film with tremendous respect, evidenced by the hiring of Greg Nicotero and the guys from KNB EFX. They also cleverly tackle the small scale survival problems, like rationing scarce food and water, helping outsiders and addressing a potentially creepy gender dynamic. I was legitimately afraid that the end of the world was going to get shortchanged and just turn into the backdrop for a series of penis jokes, but the amount of care and thought put into this stuff really shines through.
Q: So what brings about this version of global destruction? Meteor strikes? Nuclear war? Aliens?
A: I'm gonna leave that one be. The answer isn't really a spoiler, but the characters spend a decent chunk of story arguing about what's actually going on and it's a pretty good source of tension in the group, even if the answer feels pretty obvious to the audience. It's the kind of choice that inherently comes with a certain type of baggage, but they kind of shrug that stuff off - the actual "why is this happening" part is never addressed but also never missed. Instead the method of apocalypse is used as a prism to dissect the nature of friendship and what it means to be a good person.
Q: Wait, what? Are you still talking about the same movie?
A: I know. The sneaky truth about This Is The End is that it's actually a love story. Believe it or not, amidst all the raucous comedy and mass destruction lies a genuinely sweet treatise on the modern bromance. You see, Seth and Jay are old friends from Canada, but while Seth has become a big Hollywood success with lots of money, Jay remains wary of Los Angeles and despises the crowd Seth's fallen in with. All Jay wants to do is chill out with an old friend for a few days, smoke weed, drink beers and play video games like the old days, but Seth really wants Jay to get along with his new friends and ends up dragging him to a party at Franco's house. So when the shit hits the fan and they're all trapped together, Seth sees it as an opportunity for Jay to bond with the rest of the guys, while Jay just sees himself trapped in the last place he wants to spend the end of the world. Lies are told and trusts are betrayed, but it rarely feels forced or gimmicky. We've all had close friendships that have slipped away over time. I've had more than I care to admit, particularly every time I've changed schools or moved across the country. Everyone likes the idea of "BFF" but in reality friendships are extremely temperamental and far more "of the moment" than we'd like to admit. New friends and old rarely mesh the way we'd like and eventually we all drift apart, whether it be physically, emotionally or both. At its core, This Is The End is a movie about two people coming to grips with the idea that they may be clinging to the memory of a friendship that doesn't really exist anymore. That's a tough reality to face, and the older the friend the more it truly feels like the end of the world. The good news is that it's never too late; since moving back to Boston, I've gotten back in touch with a lot of old friends that I hadn't seen or spoken to in almost 15 years. The movie agrees - Jay's climactic speech to Seth is a truly touching moment that really makes you feel the weight that comes from the many years of their real and fictional friendship. It's the same speech given in countless middle-of-the-road romantic comedies, but here it's actually believable.
Q: ...But it's funny, right? A: SO MUCH FUNNY! Q:So do they end up saving the world, or what?
A: It's not really that kind of movie, although it is sort of implied that an enemy is slain. But I must admit that, while I'm not exactly the target audience for this particular joke, the film's final scene is a moment of such pure, unadulterated joy that I defy you to walk out of the theater without a big dumb smile on your face.
If you have any interest in seeing This Is The End, do yourself a favor: don't wait for it to come out on blu-ray and watch it alone on your couch. Grab some friends and go this weekend while the theaters are sure to be packed. Trust me.
*To be fair, Cheap Thrills is just as funny and probably a better film, but it's dark as hell and probably won't get a wide release.
--------------------------------------- Title: This Is The End Director: Seth Rogen & Evan Goldberg Starring: Seth Rogen, Jay Baruchel, James Franco, Jonah Hill, Craig Robinson, Danny McBride, Emma Watson Year Of Release: 2013 Viewing Method: Theatrical - Showcase Revere
"Hollywood is a place where dreams are made and dreams are broken."
Zack Snyder's Superman reboot Man Of Steel will fly into theaters this weekend and I'm pretty damn excited about it. I know everyone loves to hate on Superman as a character and I'll admit that his invulnerability ironically makes him an easy target, but I've loved the Big Blue Boy Scout ever since I first saw Richard Donner's film as a child. My tickets are already purchased for the Saturday IMAX matinee (in 2D!) and my totally awesome Superman cape is at the ready. (Yes, I have a cape and yes, I plan on wearing it.) So this feels like an ideal time to discuss the documentary Confessions Of A Superhero, which delves into the lives of the infamous Hollywood street performers.
During my time as an L.A. security guard, I often worked at a place called Hollywood & Highland - a sort of outdoor mall located in the touristy heart of Hollywood Blvd right next to the famous Chinese Theater and the Dolby Theater (formerly Kodak Theater) where the Academy Awards are held each year. I handled a variety of events there, from concerts to movie premieres to film shoots. (I once spent a week trying to keep Asian tourists from blocking the sidewalks while taking pictures of Will Smith shooting a fight scene from Hancock.) So believe me when I say that I've had a fair amount of exposure to the folks who spend their days sweating beneath the full body costumes of superheroes like Batman and Superman or famous film personas like Jack Sparrow or Marilyn Monroe. They don't work for an agency and they don't get paid an hourly wage, just cash tips from tourists who want to their picture taken with their favorite character. Some residents consider them to be a unique part of Hollywood legacy, while others consider them an annoyance at best and a menace at worst. I'd even heard weird rumors, like the guy who plays Superman is secretly loaded and just dresses up as Supes for fun.
Confessions Of A Superhero is a bit of a technical mess, often looking like it was shot on a flip phone, but it's also a fascinating peek behind the psychological curtain of these costumed performers, be they lovable, psychotic or just plain odd. Director Matthew Ogens chiefly follows four individuals: Christopher Dennis (Superman), Maxwell Allen (Batman), Jennifer Wenger (Wonder Woman), and Joe McQueen (Hulk), each of whom has a uniquely intriguing origin story and motivation for sticking with their bizarre profession, which was perfectly skewered in the new season of Arrested Development.
My favorite is easily Wenger, who makes a downright adorable Wonder Woman. She's a small town former prom queen, the hottest fish in a Tennessee pond who moved to L.A. with dreams of stardom. She's been plugging away at an acting career since she dropped out of college and is still searching for her big break, but she started doing the Wonder Woman thing as a way to make cash on the side. She seems to have a good head on her shoulders and doesn't really take any of the superhero stuff too seriously. We get a few scenes of her going to an audition and working with an acting coach and while she doesn't seem to take direction very well or have a huge emotional range, she's actually pretty decent. I've met plenty of would-be actors over the years that are just flat out unwatchable and don't seem to have any internal barometer about their talents. I knew one woman who insisted that all she needed "was to get nominated," despite never having been cast in anything of note. There's just no dealing with those people in any sort of rational way, but Wenger is attractive and self-effacing and seems to understand where her strengths lie and what kind of work she can and can't get. Her struggle is mostly tied to her personal life, dealing with a husband she married in Vegas on the spur of the moment only to realize years later that they're not really right for each other. But she's funny and lovable and takes everything in stride. Much like the real Wonder Woman, she simply refuses to be knocked down.
At the exact opposite end of the spectrum is Maxwell Allen, a.k.a. Batman. This is a guy with some dark psychological issues and a serious anger management problem. He claims to have worked security for an organized crime family and even insists he killed a man but was never brought up on charges due to lack of evidence. Whether that's true or not is a mystery, as even his own wife is skeptical of his shady past. But he does train in various forms of martial arts and knows how to handle a firearm, so I certainly believe that he's capable. Allen comes to symbolize the aggressive side of the Hollywood heroes, the ones who have repeatedly been arrested for angrily (sometimes violently) hassling tourists for not properly tipping them after photos. These incidents happen every few months, and even prompted the characters to be banned from the streets of Hollywood for a time. I've witnessed characters and pedestrians going at it on the sidewalk and it's always equal parts scary and amusing. While it looks like two guys are about to come to blows over money, the fact that one is dressed as Spider-Man and wearing a fanny pack makes it hard to hold back the chuckles. But Allen's story has an extra pathetic subplot: he too wanted to be a serious actor, but his career came to a grinding halt because the guy looks EXACTLY like a gap-toothed George Clooney - in the Batsuit, doubly so. There are a million obstacles to overcome in the pursuit of acting success, but they all pale in comparison to being a doppelganger for one of the most recognizable and successful actor/directors in the business.
Joe McQueen, a.k.a. The Incredible Hulk is also trying to make it as an actor but he has easily the most stirring backstory: he moved to LA in the midst of the Rodney King riots and soon went broke, spending four years living on the street. But he didn't let that deter his efforts and continued to go to auditions, carrying everything he owned in shopping bags. That might sound insane to you, but I saw folks in a similar state of destitution at more than one of my auditions. McQueen sees himself as a serious actor and he's got more than a little resentment towards his day job (the Hulk costume is hotter than hell) but he knows it's just a means to an end, a way for him to keep chasing his childhood dream. McQueen's indomitable optimism is admirable and having started so low makes his minor victories seem all the more impressive. (We see him get cast in a kung fu spoof called Finishing The Game, directed by Justin Lin before he settled in as the godfather of the Fast & Furious franchise.) The guy is also able to maintain a terrific sense of perspective. At one point he actually takes the camera crew to the back alley where he used to sleep and, like an ex-pat returning to his hometown, marvels at how different it all looks and just how far he's come.
And then there's Superman, a.k.a. Christopher Dennis. He's rightly the main focus of the piece and I have to imagine that as soon as Ogens and crew stepped foot into his apartment, they knew they'd struck gold. Every crevice of the place is overflowing with various Kal-El memorabilia, both purchased and created by Dennis himself. The walls are completely plastered with posters and clippings, while the action figures and comic books pile up throughout the place. I'm a Superman fan. This guy is a Superman DISCIPLE. More specifically, he worships at the altar of Christopher Reeve. Dennis is very tall and downright gangly but his face is somewhat reminiscent of an anorexic Reeve, which he sees as the most important qualification for any Superman impersonator. He goes to a Superman convention convinced he's going to win a costume contest, (he doesn't) despite the fact that his faded jumpsuit hangs limply on his rail thin frame. Oh yeah, and he also may or may not be the son of deceased actress Sandy Dennis, best remembered as not-Elizabeth Taylor in Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf? Dennis doesn't seem to have any other means of employment and takes his street performing the most seriously of the bunch, never unduly hassling the tourists and considering himself a legitimate ambassador of Hollywood. And while he's very sweet, it's hard to ignore the fact that he doesn't seem to live in the same reality as the rest of us.
When it comes to film performers, there are two kinds of people: the ones who want to be actors, and the ones who want to be famous. The first group is full of hardworking professionals focused on honing their craft in an art form they love completely. The second group is full of attention starved crazies bordering on delusional. Our four street walking heroes evenly split this divide. Christopher Dennis seems just as far out there as Maxwell Allen, but their respective lunacies each appropriately mirror their costumed personas. Where Allen/Batman is a tortured soul seemingly capable of real violence at the drop of a hat, Dennis/Superman is completely earnest and noble in his dedication to representing the Last Son of Krypton, although truth be told both seem destined for some kind of psychological break. Meanwhile, Jennifer Wenger and Joe McQueen are both good people struggling to do their best in a very tough business with limited success. I've been in their shoes before, discounting the quickie Vegas wedding. After years of banging my head on the walls of Hollywood, it's little wonder that I didn't end up out in front of the Chinese Theater with them. Wonder Woman and Hulk are both so sweet and down to earth that you totally want to see them realize their dreams of Hollywood stardom, even though you know it'll simply never happen. But you have to respect their dedication. No matter how many times they stumble and fall, they continue to show perseverance in the face of incredible odds.
It's goddamn heroic.
--------------------------------------- Title: Confessions Of A Superhero Director: Matthew Ogens Starring: Christopher Dennis, Maxwell Allen, Jennifer Wenger, Joe McQueen Year Of Release: 2007 Viewing Method: Netflix Instant (laptop)
On my first day of high school, I met some of my best friends. There were about seven guys with names like Heats, Macky, Touchdown and Stoner (who, to my knowledge, has never smoked weed) and luckily for me we liked all the same nerdy stuff. Sure, I favored Star Trek while they were of the Dungeons & Dragons persuasion, but we quickly bonded over stuff like Monty Python and Mystery Science Theater 3000. While some of us played sports (football even!) and others did speech and debate, we all ended up spending the majority of our free time in the AV offices where there were movies to be watched, Snoods to be played, and candies to be eaten. We've all remained friends over the years and try to get together around holidays when most of us find ourselves back in Boston.
Now that we're all entering our thirties, we've officially entered the phase of our lives where weddings are a common occurrence. I was the first of us to get married and I was fortunate enough to have all the guys in attendance. The next two, Rob and Cochran are each getting married in the next few months and hilariously enough both are marrying girls who are old college friends of mine. (I get to claim some credit for a number of relationships within my various overlapping friendship groups, but then again we've always been a bit incestuous in that way.) I'll actually be officiating Rob's wedding in New York, while Cochran is having a small family-only ceremony on the Cape with a big party for friends in L.A. on Halloween weekend. Both guys planned out weekend bachelor trips, but my limited time off from work meant I could only attend one. Since I probably won't be able to fly out to L.A. in October, I decided to go to Cochran's bachelor weekend in New Orleans.
It was only my second time in the city; it's where my wife grew up before moving to Houston, so her family now spends alternating Christmases there. Last December was my first chance to come along for the ride. It was a big deal for Jamie because, while I've had plenty of opportunities to show her my hometown and all my favorite places in Boston, she's never had the reciprocal opportunity to do the same in New Orleans. We were there for about a week and visited a number of different places (mostly delicious restaurants), which was just enough experience to give me the vaguest sense of bearings for my return trip. This time, as opposed to being with my wife and my in-laws, I was with a group of sixteen guys, most of whom were Cochran's Stanford friends that I'd never met before. But there were a few of the old high school gang too and the weekend was a fucking blast. I managed to pace myself remarkably well - I never got stupid drunk despite constantly having alcohol in my hand. (There are no open container laws in New Orleans, a concept that ruins me for other cities.) There were plenty of po' boys, gators and, of course, beads. And somehow I managed to squeeze in four action movies. It seemed like the appropriate Dude Response.
COBRA
"When this is over I'd kill for some...gummi bears."
My weekend started with a 7 AM flight out of Boston on Friday morning. (Fortunately I live very close to the airport.) The first leg of my trip would take me to Nashville where I'd have a three hour layover, but I resolved myself to knocking this first movie out before I got there. So I settled in at my gate with an orange juice and a breakfast burrito, pulled out my iPad and started the Sylvester Stallone shoot 'em up, Cobra.
Back in high school, a number of us made movies as our final senior projects. One of them was an action movie starring both soon-to-be-grooms, cleverly told from the perspectives of both the cop (Rob) and the criminal (Cochran). It was full of chase scenes, fist fights and, of course, a big shootout in a warehouse. (My dad was a very good sport about letting us shoot at his offices.) We were emulating the action movies we grew up on, where one lone cop would dish out his own justice, the system be damned. Cobra might be the purest distillation of that concept.
Stallone plays Cobra, a one man wrecking crew of a police officer who always wears all black, chews on an unlit match, and isn't afraid to take on a mad bomber in a grocery store single-handed. The guy is fearless, and he doesn't care about the rules of the civilized world. As the poster says, "Crime is a disease. [He's] the cure." When a deranged cult of wackos, who the police department hilariously believes to be one guy they call The Night Slasher, starts to attack women all over the city, Cobra wants on the case. Eventually a witness, 80's stalwart Brigitte Nielson, comes forward and is attacked and it's up to Cobra to protect her and bring down the Night Slasher once and for all.
I fucking love Stallone in all his forms, but that late 70's/early 80's era is something special. While the Rocky movies are all kind of amazing in their own way (Rocky V is amazing in how terrible it is) and the Rambo movies are probably the most reductive, indulgent films of that era, I have a special soft spot for stuff like Tango & Cash. Cobra, on the other hand, was always something of a mystery to me. It's not a film that anyone really talks about and the only reason I even knew it existed in the first place was because the poster hangs on Judge Reinhold's wall in Beverly Hills Cop II, the symbol of Billy Rosewood's desire to be a "shoot first, ask questions later," take-charge kind of cop. Now I see why.
Cobra is basically a walking collection of cop/action movie cliches, from his awesome car and his loner mentality to his angry captain and his wise-cracking partner. Actually, Stallone and Reni Santoni (Poppy from Seinfeld) have a kind of adorable chemistry together and I would've loved to watch another dozen movies starring the perrenial badass and his snack food obsessed sidekick. This is right in the sweet spot of Brigitte Nielsen's career, right between Rocky IV and Beverly Hills Cop II, but I'll admit that when she first came on screen, I barely recognized her. That's probably because she had some big 80's hair going on as opposed to her infamous bleach blonde crew cut. I've never understood Nielsen's appeal, but here I get it; despite her sort of inherent awkwardness, this is easily the sexiest I've ever seen her. Stallone is credited with adapting the screenplay from a novel by Paula Gosling, and there's really very little to it. The plot is paper thin but that's almost besides the point. The story is really just a means of getting from one car chase/fight scene/shoot-out to the next and most of them do not disappoint. The final battle, which includes dozens of evil bikers who chase our heroes into an old foundry, is pretty boilerplate stuff but well executed, culminating in Stallone killing the cult leader after not one, not two, but THREE quippy one-liners, followed by the revelation that Cobra's real name is Marion.
Perfection.
I finished the movie, landed in Nashville, and proceeded to spend the next three hours drinking at the first bar I could find. Most of the guys had gotten into New Orleans the previous day and I'd be the last to arrive, so I figured I had some catching up to do
It was 9 AM. I cleaned them out of Jameson.
I landed in New Orleans with a good buzz going, dropped my stuff at the hotel and met up with the boys on Bourbon St, where Cochran was haggling over the price of tickets for a fanboat ride to see gators the next day. There was a light rain, but it was also humid as hell so we didn't mind. We wandered into a series of bars, including one with two old guys playing guitar who claimed to not know any songs by the Doobie Brothers. We were skeptical.
We swung by the infamous Cafe Du Monde for beignets beneath mountains of powdered sugar, then headed for the hotel. By then the rain had really started coming down, so we were pretty much soaked to the bone by the time we got back. The hotel included a dinner buffet and three free drinks every night, so we filled up on food and booze then laid our clothes out to dry before heading for the rooftop pool. Now that it had stopped raining, the night had turned lovely and an early evening hot tub and beers was just what we needed before rolling out for the night.
We headed back to Bourbon Street which, at night, is basically like the Las Vegas Strip of the south. The streets were choked with crowds of people, each with a fistful of alcohol, beads or both. The music was thumping, the drunks were staggering, and there was a bachelor or bachelorette party approximately every 100 feet. It was a lot of fun and, needless to say, very different from when I visited with my in-laws.
We stumbled back into the hotel room at approximately 4:00 AM, which was precisely the time that I had woken up for my flight that morning.
EXPENDABLES 2
"I'll be back."
"You've been back enough. I'll be back."
"Yippee-ki-yay."
Everybody slept in Saturday morning, which meant we skipped breakfast and went directly to lunch at Cochon Butcher. Aside from having all sorts of incredible fresh cut meats for sale (BRING ME ALL THE BACON!) Cochon is basically the sandwich shop to end all sandwich shops. I had roasted porchetta on ciabatta with braised mustard greens, garlic aioli and provolone cheese and it was nothing short of miraculous. And let's not forget that pancetta mac & cheese! There wasn't a lot of seating at Cochon so we walked down the street and ate on this weird abandoned loading dock.
We walked through the city for a bit until we discovered a bar/arcade and simply had to stop and play some games. Along with a five foot tall Jenga made of two by fours, they had mostly vintage titles including Centipede, Galaga, Street Fighter II, and even the original Tron. I pretty much set up shop in front a classic Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles game, one of my childhood favorites. Five dollars and twenty minutes later, I'd secured number four on the machine's high score list. Proof below:
Yes, my initials spell MAD.
After that it was time to see gators. All sixteen of us (and a couple of 30 racks) took a bus about 40 minutes out from the hotel and into the swamps. There we climbed onto one of those big fan boats that require you to wear protective headphones. We threw marshmallows into the water and the gators swam right up to the boat. The biggest (and oldest) was about 10 feet long and appropriately named Hercules. Our tour guide/boat captain instantly put himself into our good graces by declaring that he had no love for local heroes Peyton and Eli Manning, which is an easy way to make friends with most anyone from New England. By the time we made it back to the hotel we had a few hours to kill before the dinner buffet and another trip to Bourbon Street, so I knew this was my movie window. While some napped and others went back to the pool, I pulled out my iPad and fired up The Expendables 2.
I don't understand why this franchise isn't more awesome.
The first Expendables was downright boring and barely delivered on its premise of America's favorite old school action heroes coming together to kick some serious ass. Stallone and Dolph Lundgren are fairly entertaining, but Mickey Rourke is reduced to one admittedly amazing monologue while Bruce Willis and Arnold Schwarzenegger have about four minutes of screen time between them. But most of the heavy lifting is done by the younger cast members, and while I like Jason Statham and Jet Li, I didn't watch The Expendables to see Terry Crews and Randy Couture trying to be witty. Even most of the action was a let down.
The Expendables 2 is certainly an improvement in the area of ass-kicking old guys. We've lost Rourke, but we've gained Chuck Norris as a lone wolf assassin and Jean-Claude Van Damme as a villain named (I shit you not) Vilain. That pretty much sums up the level of nuance one can expect from these movies. Willis and Schwarzenegger actually see some action this time out, but while it's nice to see them contributing to the big finale, it's depressing to see them used as the comic relief. They basically just drive around in a tiny smart car shooting faceless off-screen minions while riffing on each other's old catchphrases. (See above.) It's downright sad. Norris can't really pull of his old moves anymore considering that he's 73 years old (!) so he's relegated to sniping people from far away, which is fine I guess. The guy had the good sense to realize he's a perfect fit for this franchise and it's fun having him in the mix, even in a limited capacity. Really it's Van Damme, a guy who's always been willing to poke at his own self-image, who seems to be having the most fun here. He chews the scenery with gusto and seems to savor his own silliness. Hell, he kills Liam Hemsworth by kicking a knife into his chest. (Not really a spoiler as his early death is telegraphed from pretty much the second Hemsworth opens his mouth.) When Stallone and Van Damme finally brawl at the end, it's actually a pretty impressive display considering they have a combined age of 116.
But more than anything, these movies prove that familiar faces and decent action simply aren't enough to satisfy. If there was a remotely interesting plot driving these movies, they could be something really special. It doesn't need to be complicated, just compelling. It would also help if it wasn't painfully obvious that every scene takes place in the backwoods of some tiny European country who gave them a decent tax break to shoot there. If you're gonna have globe-trotting heroes, rule number one is to send them somewhere exciting. (see: Fast & Furious franchise)
Whether we like it or not, Expendables 3 will punch audiences in the face next summer. While there's no guarantee of a story with telling, there are promises of Wesley Snipes, Milla Jovovich, the return of Mickey Rourke, and most excitingly, Nicholas Cage. There's even a rumor that Mel Gibson might play the villain.
Jackie Chan is still a maybe. I don't blame him.
That night we went in search of some good music, so we went to a club on Frenchman street where your typical New Orleans brass band was tearing up the joint.
The group naturally got somewhat fractured as we wandered from bar to bar, but after a short detour at a dance club where one guy hilariously tried to inspire shot girls to turn their lives around, eventually we all ended up on the same balcony overlooking Bourbon and continued to drink the night away.
Iron Eagle:
"Think you can handle the music?"
Sunday was Mother's Day. A couple of us inexplicably woke up early and decided to take a walk into town. With some free time on our hands, we ended up spending the morning at the Aquarium. We saw sting rays, white gators and a crap-ton of sharks. We got back to the hotel, roused Ben awake and packed up our stuff to check out. Cochran and the remaining Stanford guys were at a local oyster house grabbing lunch before heading to the airport, so Ben, Colin, Sammy and I all bid the bachelor goodbye and went off in search of po' boys. After a lengthy walkabout, we settled on a hole in the wall joint that filled us with crawfish pie, seafood gumbo and catfish sandwiches. We soon got word that a shooting had taken place at a Mother's Day second line parade a few blocks from where we'd seen the band the previous night. It was pretty disturbing news, especially coming only a few weeks after the Boston Marathon bombing. I figured the story would probably gain a lot of attention, coming on Mother's Day. I got a few text messages from folks at home checking to make sure I was okay, but it seems like the story soon died away in the national press, which is more than a little maddening.
Colin was heading to Sacramento that afternoon, but Ben, Sammy and I switched to a cheap airport hotel for the night and so we could fly out early the next morning. There wasn't much to see out by the airport so everyone crashed for a bit and I sat down for movie number three, Iron Eagle.
I almost feel sorry for this movie.
First of all, it's a fighter jet movie that came out the same year as Top Gun, so the viewer instantly draws comparisons that Iron Eagle can't possibly hope to live up to. For shit's sake, whenever a plane blows up in this movie, it is CLEARLY a wooden model. You can see the splinters! And the film's premise is almost laughable: when an American pilot goes down behind enemy lines in a small Middle Eastern country, the Air Force won't mount a rescue mission. So instead, the pilot's 18 year old son Doug (Jason Gedrick) decides to steal a fighter jet and, with the help of Col. Chappy Sinclair (Lou Gossett Jr.), flies in to rescue his father.
The whole movie feels like some kind of insane, jingoistic reaction to the Iran hostage crisis, where 52 Americans were held against their will and the Carter administration was powerless to secure their release, while the public looked on with a growing sense of impotence. Iran is mentioned frequently throughout Iron Eagle, especially by Doug and his two best friends Reggie (Lamar from Revenge Of The Nerds) and Tony (Stiles from Teen Wolf). Reggie even makes a REAGAN COMMENT at one point. Granted Iron Eagle was released nearly five years to the day after the Iran hostages were released, but even then I'm sure there were more than a few folks who empathized with the idea of jumping into a plane to save the good guys and kill the bad guys, diplomacy be damned. I can hardly blame anyone for harboring that mentality and at least it's interesting to see a film tackle that point of view head on. The effect of major current events like the Iran hostage crisis on the stories we tell and the art we create has always been fascinating to me, which is why I'm usually drawn to movies that feel heavily influenced by 9/11, the biggest cultural watershed moment of my lifetime to date.
That said, Iron Eagle is hopelessly silly. At the beginning, Doug gets rejected by the Air Force Academy and we later learn that it's because he really only flies his best when he can use his custom, leg-mounted cassette player to fill his cockpit with truly terrible 80's music. (It's like his superpower!) He's got a ragtag collection of local kids from his flight club who help him and Chappy to secure intelligence reports and equipment (including two fighter jets) from their Air Force parents, implying that security on that particular base is something of a joke. Admittedly this is probably the single most entertaining stretch in the movie, but it also feels aimed at 12 year olds; at one point two of them set off firecrackers in a barrel to sound like gunshots and distract a platoon of officers on duty. That kinda stunt would likely get you killed in the confusion, but here's played for laughs.
It's of little wonder that the only one who returns for future Iron Eagle installments is Louis Gossett Jr. Jason Gedrick was hardly an acting powerhouse and Chappy Sinclair is unquestionably the most interesting character in the movie. This speech on the tarmac, featuring one of the worst ADR hackjobs in the history of cinema, is not only breathtaking to behold, but it proves that Gossett took this shit seriously. There are four Iron Eagle movies total, and while most seem to have been largely forgotten by history, Aces: Iron Eagle IIIsounds from its IMDb page like a must watch. That might be the most enticing plot synopsis I've ever read.
After Iron Eagle, Sammy and I decided to wander down the highway and look for a dinner option that was more appetizing than the Sonic drive-in next to our hotel. A block down the street, we found this:
Talk about the perfect way to wrap up a bachelor weekend.
Colombiana:
"Never forget where you came from."
When I made my travel arrangements, I decided I'd fly back into town on Monday and head right into the office for the afternoon so I wouldn't have to take a whole day off. The good news was that I realized the folly of this plan a few days in advance and decided to just take Monday off regardless. The bad news was that I was now stuck with a flight that left New Orleans at 5:00 AM. Thankfully I was a mere ten minute cab ride from the airport, but that still meant I needed to be awake by 3:30, which is around the time I'd been going to bed for the last two days. Needless to say, my internal clock was knocked all out of whack. I showed up at the airport so early that the TSA checkpoint to enter my gate wasn't even open yet. I didn't know such a thing was possible! After standing in line for about 30 minutes while they set up for the day, I eventually made it into the concourse, grabbed another breakfast burrito and walked onto my plane.
I had a quick stop in Atlanta before finally headed home. I had figured that, with the afternoon off, I might just wait and watch a movie at home later that day, but I don't often sleep on planes so I ended up pulling out my iPad in search of something to watch. I had loaded up Caddyshack II for exactly this contingency, but my first generation device is starting to show its age and was giving me serious playback issues. (In truth, I had some trouble with Cobra too, but this was simply unwatchable.) So I went to my reserve of backup options and, wanting to keep up the action motif, settled on Colombiana.
Colombiana is a simple tale of a little girl from Bogota who witnesses the murder of her parents at the hands of a cartel boss. The girl escapes to America where she's raised by her uncle to become a brilliant assassin who seeks revenge for the death of her family. The film stars Zoe Saladana as the assassin, Cliff Curtis as her uncle, Lennie James as the FBI agent trying bring her in, and Michael Vartan as her boyfriend who makes the audience say, "Oh hey! I remember that guy! He used to be on the teevee!"
My only impression of this movie before I saw it was the trailer, with its mantra-esque repetition of the phrase, "Never forget where you came from!" In my mind, whenever a movie goes out of its way to establish a catchphrase (AHEM Hunger Games...) I immediately think of the Colombiana trailer. Imagine my disappointment when her father says those six words in the first ten minutes and they are never spoken again. But the theme is still strong throughout the film, even if Saldana's Cataleya goes about her revenge in the dumbest, most reckless manner possible. She kills all of the cartel boss's underlings and leaves a native flower as her calling card. Except she racks up 22 kills before the FBI can figure out what her calling card even means, and as soon as the cartel gets word they immediately butcher her uncle and grandmother. So, needless to say, her plan was flawed. But she does manage some impressive kills, which is the most important part of a movie like this. The opening prison hit is both fun and impressive, plus you've gotta love any assassin who sets up her targets to die via shark attack and angry dogs.
Zoe Saldana absolutely carries the movie. Yeah, she's hot, but she's also got personality and intensity to spare. Even in a largely forgettable revenge tale, she manages to imbue a somewhat shoddy character with an emotional depth that demands your attention. Her work as Uhura in Star Trek is just as impressive; while that character is little more than a romantic foil for Zachary Quinto's Spock, she's so charming and fun that she basically tricks you into thinking the character is more interesting than the material on the page. Theoretically she'll be appearing in James Gunn's Guardians Of The Galaxy as the film's lead female Gamora and I hear its a pretty kickass role, although I expect she'll be in heavy makeup a la her work in Avatar. One of these days someone's gonna give her a worthwhile character in a prestige film and she's gonna blow the doors off the theater.
I landed at Logan around noon on Monday, made my way home and collapsed on the couch for the remainder of the afternoon.
All in all, it was an action-packed weekend.
--------------------------------------- Title: Cobra Director: George P. Cosmatos Starring: Sylvester Stallone, Brigitte Nielsen, Reni Santoni, Brian Thompson, Andrew Robinson, Lee Garlington Year Of Release: 1986 Viewing Method: iPad
--------------------------------------- Title: The Expendables 2 Director: Simon West Starring: Sylvester Stallone, Jason Statham, Jean-Claude Van Damme, Dolph Lundgren, Jet Li, Terry Crews, Liam Hemsworth, Chuck Norris, Bruce Willis, Arnold Schwarzenegger Year Of Release: 2012 Viewing Method: iPad
--------------------------------------- Title: Iron Eagle Director: Sidney J. Furie Starring: Louis Gossett Jr., Jason Gedrick, David Suchet, Larry B. Scott, Jerry Levine, Michael Bowen, Melora Hardin, Tim Thomerson Year Of Release: 1986 Viewing Method: iPad
--------------------------------------- Title: Colombiana Director: Oliver Megaton Starring: Zoe Saldana, Jordi Molla, Lennie James, Michael Vartan, Cliff Curtis, Callum Blue Year Of Release: 2011 Viewing Method: iPad
