Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

There are few movies that I am less inclined to see than the "tearjerker."  I have nothing against tears or jerking, it's just...well, why watch a sad movie, when there are explosions to be had?  Sadly, I did watch Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close (not ...Uncomfortably Close, as I have often misquoted the title), because it was nominated for 2011's Best Picture Oscar.  While I am not a big fan of sentimental films, the book this is based on was written by the author of Everything Is Illuminated, which is a decently weird movie.  Maybe there is something more than sad in this film...?  Maybe...?

Oskar (Thomas Horn) is a weird kid.  You might think that he is autistic or something, but apparently the tests came back inconclusive.  Anyways, he's a weird kid dealing with some heavy tragedy.  Oskar's natural weirdness makes it difficult for him to deal with the real world, much less other human beings.  Luckily, his father (Tom Hanks) understands him and goes to great lengths to get Oskar out of his shell.  For instance, dad gives Oskar frequent quests, where Oskar must follow the clues to a hidden treasure of questionable value; Oskar has fun and employs critical thinking while his dad makes sure he interacts with strangers and faces other vaguely autistic fears.

...Like touching the floor --- it's lava, you know...!

Then, everything goes pear-shaped.  Dad is, by a fluke of his schedule, caught in the Twin Towers on September 11, 2001, which Oskar refers to as "the worst day."  He calls home several times, but his wife (Sandra Bullock) isn't home and Oskar can't bring himself to answer. Dad dies.  A year later, an increasingly isolated Oskar stumbles across a key amidst his late father's belongings.  Believing this to be part of one of his scavenger hunts, Oskar decides to scour New York City for information leading to the destination for his mystery key.  You can't just figure out what a fairly anonymous key goes to without introducing yourself to a few dozen random strangers, though, so Oskar forces himself out of his shell to unlock his father's final puzzle.  In the meantime, I think we can all assume that he'll discover something more symbolic and puppet-stringing, right?

Look, I don't have a particular problem with stories that use September 11th as a backdrop.  It's emotionally inflammatory, but I understand that there are a lot of good stories that revolve around that date.  Honestly, I doubt that World Trade Center and United 93 are great films, but I respect the need to make them. In a way, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close is a lot like Bruce Springsteen's The Rising; it may not necessarily be about September 11th, but it certainly is flavored by it.

September 11 is one of those moments in history where you are supposed to remember where you were and what you were doing when the shit went down.  Personally, I was lucky enough to be in college at the time, catching the early action on morning television, before being stunned with my friends in a dormitory common room.  For the record, I still went to all my classes that day, although there weren't many that were worth attending that day.

It's not your fault, Max

Once you get beyond the emotional mindfuck that comes from a plot that deals with senseless tragedy, you might find yourself focusing on the actors.  Thomas Horn is the main character, and I completely understand if you found him irritating; he isn't exactly autistic (he's somewhere on the spectrum, though), but he's very peculiar and odd enough to stick out, even in New York City.  I can't say that his peculiarities bothered me, but I understand if they bothered you.

Okay, that tambourine irritated the shit out of me

Tom Hanks was essentially what you want Tom Hanks to be in this movie; he was the perfect dad --- loving, clever, understanding, and demanding all in one Oscar-winning doughboy.  This is the most likable I have seen Hanks in almost a decade.  Sandra Bullock played his loving wife, who balances mind-numbing grief with plot twists bold enough to almost make you think she isn't the worst parent in NYC.

Reading your kid's diary doesn't make you a good parent

Max von Sydow gave a great performance as Oskar's helper/possible relative; it wasn't too difficult of a role, but he made the lack of dialogue seem irrelevant, which is the benchmark of a good actor in a gimmicky role.  Viola Davis and Jeffrey Wright also played key small parts, and they were as good as you should expect them to be in supporting roles.  In other words, "very."  The only small role that confused me was John Goodman as the abrasive doorman; he was fine, but I was surprised to see such a fine actor in such a bit part.  I was not, however, surprised to see Chris Hardwick playing a funeral director; I love the guy, but he's not much of an actor.

This isn't Stephen Daldry's first Best Picture-nominated film, you know.  He made The Reader and The Hours, not to mention Billy Elliot back in the day.  For some reason, though, I feel the need to justify Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close as an Oscar contender.  This is, without a doubt, a well-made film.  There is nothing technically flawed in this movie.  If you have studied film style, you will find EL&IC a cornucopia of established film styles.  And yet...and yet...this is kind of a dull film.

Don't get me wrong.  Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close will make you cry.  I you don't weep, your heart is made of ash and you probably rape penguins for fun.  That doesn't make this a great film.  Instead, it feels a lot like a well-made simulation of human emotion.  The story is a little drawn out and more than a little obvious, but the pacing is excellent and the gradual reveals are expertly done.  At the very least, it makes sure to hit as many broad emotional marks as it can; if you have a strained relationship with your mother, then consider this the reason you call your mom crying this year.  If you are on solid ground with your parents...well, you might as well give them a call, since the inevitable zombie apocalypse is on its way, anyhow...

I happen to have a pretty solid relationship with my parents, so that little guilt trip didn't make Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close strike a chord for me.  Is this a great film?  Absolutely not.  It is a very well-acted and well-directed Lifetime movie of the week.  The loose connection to a tragedy makes it seem more relevant, but the key to this film is that "the worst day" shouldn't influence every single day.  I completely understand if this movie hits home for you, though, since it does strike some very basic chords.  However, if you are lucky enough to A) not be directly affected by this tragedy and B) not fight with your parents, then this film will not provide the Oscar "oomph" you may be expecting from a nominee.

Dune

Have you ever heard of Alan Smithee?  For a little over thirty years, it was the credit given to directors that wanted to disavow their work in a particular film due to the final version of the film not meeting their creative vision.  In other words, if the star or studio re-cut the movie, the director could protest by crediting the work to Smithee.  It's happened many times over the years, and Eric Idle made a terrible movie that joked about the process, so you may have heard of Smithee by now.  What I didn't know until I researched it for two or three minutes (I love the internet!) was that directors sometimes requested a Smithee credit for re-edited versions of their movies, like those shown in airplanes or on television.  Why do I bring this up?  I knew that one of the many versions of Dune that was aired on television had David Lynch's name removed from both the directing and writing credits.  While I haven't seen the Smithee version of the film (also known as the "Extended Version" on DVD), it can't be much worse than this approved version.

Dune is a high-concept science fiction yarn based on the excellent book of the same name by Frank Herbert.  Dune tackles a lot of serious themes and has an intricate plot that was thought, for many years, to be unworkable as a movie, and they may have been right.  This is a movie that delves into politics on a grand scale, ecology, Zen Buddhism, and revolution, all in two-and-a-half hours.  If that seems like a long movie, you're right.  It's still not enough time to develop all of those concepts simultaneously.  On the bright side, the movie soundtrack was done by Toto! They rawk!

Okay, now a quick quiz... What's the best part of this video?
A) The sweatbands on the keyboardist's wrists.
B) The singer finding Africa: The Book! and giving himself a satisfied nod.
C) The band singing a song allegedly about Africa and the video taking place on a large book.
D) That it manages to devalue an entire continent (54 countries!) in under five minutes.

The film begins with Princess Irulan (Virginia Madsen) explaining the state of the universe to the camera.  In the distant future, the universe is ruled by Padishah Emperor Shaddam IV (Jose Ferrer) and the most valuable resource in the universe is the spice melange.  Melange is kind of like a cosmic LSD, only useful; it expands the mind, prolongs the user's life, and is essential to space travel.  The Spacing Guild's Navigators use the drug to see the future and fold space, which makes space travel faster and safer.  The problem with melange is that is only grows on one stinking planet, Arrakis AKA Dune.  With this explanation, the Princess is not seen again until the last ten minutes of the film, where she might not have had any dialogue.

Are you with me so far?  Well, in an effort to smash a political rival, Emperor Shaddam is giving control of Arrakis to, um, his rival, Duke Leto Atreides (Jurgen Prochnow).  That doesn't make much sense, does it?  Well, the Emperor is arranging to have the Atreides' longtime rival, the Harkonnens, ambush Atriedes on Arrakis.  When the Spacing Guild's Navigators foresee these events, they demand that the Emperor kill not only Duke Leo, but also his son, Paul (Kyle MacLachlan).  These future-seers think that Paul is a danger to their melange supply.  So, the Emperor agrees to off the kid.  And with that, we are about five minutes into the movie!

From here on out, things pretty much fall into place.  The Atreides go to Arrakis and they get ambushed.  Paul and his mother escape into the desert and encounter the native Fremen, who manage to live in the desert and have learned how to live with the incredibly destructive sand worms that are a danger to everybody else.  But why should the Fremen help these strangers?  And, even if Paul and his mother get help, what is next for them?  Revenge?  That seems a little petty.  How about a step toward universal domination via guns that are powered by special words?  That seems a little ridiculous.  It's a little of both.

Legend has it that David Lynch's final script called for this film to be a little over three hours long, but the movie studio forced it to be whittled down to a trim two-and-a-quarter hours.  I cannot find a way to suitably express my condolences to anyone who had to watch a three-hour version of this movie.  Two hours was all I could take, and that is only because I stopped questioning the plot.  This movie positively drags.  Well over half of the movie is pure exposition, with the ambush of the Atreides serving as a mid-movie huge action scene.  The odd thing about that battle is that very little of it is shown.  Then there is more exposition, and a whole boatload of weird stuff shoved into the last half hour.

The biggest problem I have with this film is its use of voice-overs.  Sometimes, they are used to explain plot.  Sometimes, they seem to indicate telepathy.  Whatever.  They are all just awful.  I don't need to hear Kyle MacLachlan's voice explaining more than his dialogue does --- I need the scenes to explain the plot, instead.  Voice-overs that explain plot are a lazy, cut-corner trick to salvage a movie that has become too expensive to re-shoot scenes, and the fact that this movie is full of them should indicate the quality of the movie.

Speaking of Kyle, I have to admit that I am not a big fan of his work.  He's actually not too bad here, but the things that the script forces his to say often sound really, really stupid.  Do you remember the Fatboy Slim song, "Weapon of Choice?"  It borrows one of Kyle's lines: "If we walk without rhythm, we won't attract the worm;" of course, Kyle then proceeds to walk normally.  Actually, I don't particularly dislike any of the actors in this film, with the possible exception of Kenneth McMillan who, as the evil Harkonnen leader, couldn't have been more comically evil if he had a six-pound handlebar mustache to twirl.  Brad Douriff, Sean Young, Linda Hunt, Freddie Jones, Richard Jordan, Dean Stockwell, Max von Sydow, and the already mentioned Jurgen Prochnow all played their small roles capably.  They looked and sounded silly doing so, but they took their jobs seriously and did the best they could in difficult circumstances.  Patrick Stewart has a small role in the film, too, but the aspect of his performance that struck me the most was the fact that he apparently grew a skullet as the movie progressed.  I can't say that I was particularly pleased by the young Alicia Witt (in her film debut) and her bizarre voice, but her character was pretty weird and the voice may have been changed in post-production.  Now, Sting gets a lot of attention on the various DVD covers for this film, and I'm not sure why.  Maybe because of this:

Umm...is that a bird...servicing him?

Whatever the case, Sting gets to overact and has an anticlimactic fight scene with Kyle.  I would critique his work, but I can't look at those weird fiberglass undies and keep a serious thought in my head.

So, at least the acting's not bad.  There's no great work, but it all fits the film.  For this movie to even come close to succeeding, though, it needs to look awesome.  As George Lucas has shown, if your movie is visually spectacular, nobody cares about the plot.  Sadly, Dune couldn't get that right, even with a large budget.  Problem #1: the stillsuit.

It's like they have Hitler 'staches, with a left sideburn connection

Everyone on Arrakis has to wear these things to survive; they recycle your body's moisture and fluids to prevent dehydration on the desert planet.  Unfortunately, that means that everybody spends substantial time wearing nose plugs.
Problem #2: the special effects looked bad, even by 1984 standards.

An actual frame from the movie.  No joke.

In the beginning of the movie, young Paul turns on his "bodyshield" for a sparring match; it is blocky, sometimes opaque, and it made Star Wars-inspired noises.  Awful.  Thankfully, this suit is never seen again after the half-hour mark.  The sets in general looked cheap, the costumes were lame, and the special effects were often not done to scale; when you see a human and a worm in the same frame, it's hard to tell how close they are supposed to be to each other.  For being a science fiction epic tale, there is surprisingly little imagination or innovation in the visual effects.
Problem #3: the story is damn near incomprehensible.

An actual page of script from Dune

I read several Dune books as a young whipper-snapper, and I was clueless when watching the movie.  I can only pity someone who approaches this movie out of pure curiosity or, worse, a devotion to David Lynch.  I choose my words carefully here, because I want there to be no misunderstanding: this movie is confusing, even by David Lynch standards.  That's right; it is easier to decode his movies where actors switch characters in the middle of the film than to follow this plot.

I'm not even going to go into Lynch's direction, except to say that this film looks awful, and that's usually his strong point.  Did you know that Lynch was considered as a director for Return of the Jedi?  He opted to make this mess instead.  I suppose that's a good thing, because his fondness for strange dwarf characters would only have lead to some bizarre scenes with the Ewoks.

The one good thing I can say about this movie is that it approaches the source material with respect.  The final product may resemble the diarrhea of someone who digested the book, but the intent to honor it was there.  I don't even want to blame anyone in particular for this monstrosity.  I just want to forget about it.

The Seventh Seal

It is unusual for me to watch a film and imagine what it would be like in another medium.  Sure, sometimes I wonder what the book that a movie is based on might be like, but that's about the extent of imagination in that direction.  When I watched The Seventh Seal, though, I was struck by its style and tone.  Yes, this is a classic piece of art cinema, but it could definitely be just as successful in another form.

The story follows the journey of Antonius Block (Max von Sydow), a knight returning home to Sweden after a crusade.  Imagine his joy at returning home, only to find that the country is in the midst of a plague outbreak.  Around this time, Antonius encounters a strange man, who has seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

I hate over-age trick-or-treaters.

The mysterious cloaked figure is not mysterious for long.  He is Death (Bengt Ekerot), and he has come for Block.  As Death pauses in his soul retrieval to admire Block's chess set, Block has an idea.  He challenges Death to a game of chess; if Block wins, he lives.  That also means that, as long as the game is going, he lives, too.  Death accepts the challenge, because he is really a pretty easy-going entity with a good sense of humor.  Well, maybe not in this particular film, but in general.  The game continues, on and off, throughout the whole film, but Death's involvement in the movie is not limited to this game.  Block and Jons (Gunnar Bjornstrand), his squire, continue their trek to Block's castle and pick up a motley crew upon the way.  Block befriends a family of circus folk (Jof, Mia and their son Mikael), Jons protects a woman from rape, which in Sweden apparently means that she becomes his maid, and a few other random people along the way.

The main journey in this film is not a physical one, but a philosophical one.  Block spends the film lamenting his lost faith in the Christian God, while Jons provides more pragmatic opinions on the divine.  The title, The Seventh Seal, is a reference to Revelation 8:1 (which is actually shown as the film begins):

And when the Lamb had opened the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven about the space of half an hour.

With Block's lack of faith --- he really wants to believe, but just can't do it --- I think it's obvious that the last part of the verse is the important part.  No, not the notion of God giving everyone a half-hour lunch break.  The notion of there being a "silence in heaven" is likely being used here to indicate Block's problems with faith; even when he tries to believe, he doesn't hear an answer (because heaven is silent?), which feeds his doubts.  Of course, he's a bit more eloquent than I am:

[Faith] is like loving someone who is out there in the darkness but never appears, no matter how loudly you call.

That's pretty poetic, and it's been translated from Swedish!  In it's original language, it reads as "Bork bork bjork!"  Block is in a pretty difficult situation.  He has some pretty profound and deep-seated issues with his faith, and he's not proud of his time in the Crusades.  He finally returns to his country to find it under seige from the plague, and then Death tells his that it's almost casket time.  That's a pretty awful time to be questioning the existence of God.  And yet, Block still tries to be a good man.  When he sees people in trouble, he wants to help them, even if he should not.  Knowing that his life will soon end, Block declares that he will do one good deed with his Death-postponing chess game.  The question is whether that good deed will be enough to settle his doubts.

Obviously, this is a slapstick comedy that beats Jim Carrey to the talking-through-your-butt routine by 35 years or so.  Now, if that statement/blatant lie piqued your interest in this movie, then you should probably not watch this film.  This is a very artsy film that moves slowly and has the director's fingerprints all over it.  Before discussing the acting and directing, I should point out the overall feel of this movie.  This is one of the most theatrical films I have ever watched.  And by "theatrical," I'm talking about theaters, as in plays.  It's not just the fact that Death is seen by some characters, but not others.  It's not the stage whispers that the audience can hear, but the characters cannot.  It's not even the acting, which is often characterized by exaggerated physical movements.  The thing that makes this story feel like a play to me is the presence of the Fool character, Jof.  Like in so many of Shakespeare's works, the Fool sees the truth of the story more clearly than anyone else.  Here, Jof is the only character that can see Death and is not on Death's "To do" list.  As the Fool, he offers words of wisdom that are overlooked or dismissed by other characters, too.  In fact, I was surprised to learn that this story was not first (or even subsequently) made for the stage.  Is that good or bad?  Well...it's an interesting choice.

The acting in this movie is nowhere near as subtle as you would expect from a feature film made this long after talkies were invented.  Still, Max von Sydow does a good job --- I would look gaunt and haunted if Death was trying to pencil me in for an appointment, too.  Gunnar Bjornstrand performed well as the down to Earth foil for von Sydow's philosophizing knight.  I enjoyed Nils Poppe as Jof and I guess Bibi Andersson did a decent job as Mia.  The actor that draws all your attention, though, is Bengt Ekerot as Death.  His acting is pretty good; I liked that Death was a little wry and patient.  He was also ominous, even when (especially when) he smiled.  This is also the first time Death was portrayed as a man with a white face and black cloak, and this is the movie that gets spoofed for Death playing chess.  Ekerot's work in this film is iconic, and the longevity of these images is well earned.

I'm a little conflicted about my feelings for Bergman's direction, though.  Intellectually, I appreciate the use of symbolism and double meanings in the film (so...much...directorial intent...!  Could...write...30 page...paper!), but this was a movie that felt every minute of its hour-and-a-half running time.  Thankfully, Bergman adds a lot more humor than you would imagine possible in such a serious film.  These aren't laugh-out-loud moments, but they are more akin to...well, the Fool character in plays.  Still, they are welcome breaks from Block's solemn scenes.  I wasn't a huge fan of the score; it felt a little bombastic to me, but I suppose that fits the gravity of the subject matter.  My biggest problem with the direction in The Seventh Seal is that I don't see what it gains through film except location shots.  Why is this an iconic film instead of an iconic play?  It is entirely possible that the theatrical aspects of the film are simply part of a larger allegory for the subject matter at hand, but if that's the case, I still don't like that choice.  This is a movie that I appreciate for its artistic merits and the bluntness with which it approached the subject matter, but the humor is what saves it from being ghastly.  Even without agreeing with many of the director's choices, I still see this as an important film.

The Exorcist

I didn't watch scary movies as a kid.  I think the first horror movie I ever watched was Scream; I was seventeen or so at the time, watching it at a friend's house, and I remember being very self-conscious about my reactions to the movie.  I didn't want to give myself away by shrieking like a little girl or wetting myself.  For some reason, I imagined horror movies as being genuinely disturbing, the very stuff of nightmares.  Obviously, I got over that presumption.  After a solid month of watching (and reviewing) nothing but (often awful) horror movies this month, I have finally come to the film that was, at one point, the highest grossing --- and some still say, the scariest --- film of all time, The Exorcist.  Will it live up to my childhood expectations for horror?  Let's find out.

Successful actress Chris MacNeil (Ellen Burstyn) has a tween daughter named Regan (Linda Blair).  Shortly after announcing that she has a new (invisible) friend in Mr. Howdy, Regan falls ill.  Not cough cough ill, but things flying around the room ill.  Despite exhibiting surprising strength, an ability to rock her entire bed while she's on it, and speaking in a croaking male voice during these incidents, doctors suspect some sort of brain cancer.  Because cancer makes girls talk like life-long smokers.  When modern medicine turns up nothing, Regan is taken to a psychiatrist.  No help there, but if Regan has thrice weekly visits for the next year, they suspect that perhaps they can improve "no help" to "next to no help."  However, around this time, Chris' director (Jack MacGowran) is found murdered outside the MacNeil home; when Chris checked on Regan, she was asleep, but her window was open to the bitter cold evening air.  Hmm...I wonder...?  When medicine for the body and brain both fail, Chris turns to the church.  Her Catholic priest, like the girl at your party that keeps doing the Mary Katherine Gallagher impression, is obviously flattered at being a third choice and is eager to help.  Unfortunately, this priest, Father Damien Karras (Jason Miller), is one of them new-fangled ones that has a psychology degree and might even be losing his own faith.  Father Damien doesn't believe that the Catholic church will allow him to perform an exorcism, and he is even less certain that it will do any good (except from a psychological perspective).  But he asks his bosses anyway, and is surprised that they agree to proceed, but a rookie like Damien cannot do it alone.  The church decides to team him up with one of their heavy hitters, Father Merrin (Max von Sydow).  The two approach Regan's exorcism just as (pea green) spit is about to hit the fan.  What does this film have in store for these do-gooders?  Projectile vomit of pea soup?  Of course.   Impossible physical feats?  Fo' sho'.  Creative vulgar insults?  Absolutely.  And smoking, every character smoking!

Director William Friedkin has built his career on the back-to-back successes that were The French Connection and The Exorcist, and deservedly so.  Friedkin's direction is apparent throughout the film.  He does a very good job composing visually attractive frames, particularly with the shot of Max von Sydow preparing to enter the MacNeil home, which would eventually become the movie poster.  The special effects are handled well (even better than in Poltergeist, released nine years later) and Linda Blair's make-up is fantastic.The acting is all very good, with Max von Sydow (who has looked 70 years old for the last 40 years) and Jason Miller managing to portray depth and poise from two characters that could easily have been ciphers.  Ellen Burstyn looks positively haggard as the film goes on, which is appropriate, but I felt that her character was a little too over-dramatic in the beginning of the film; yes, she's playing an actress, but even drama queens aren't as moody as she was portrayed.  Linda Blair does a pretty decent job, for a child actor, but I personally believe her character was too immature to be a twelve-year old.  Seriously, a twelve year-old with imaginary friends would get sent to the psychiatrist even without the supernatural powers.  Most of the other actors --- aside from the always reliable Lee J. Cobb --- were okay, but not particularly impressive.  Still, Bursyn, Blair, and Miller were all nominated for acting Oscars, and Friedkin was nominated for direction; all in all, the film was nominated for ten Oscars and took home Best Sound and Adapted Screenplay.  Not too shabby for a genre film.

Obviously, the film was well-made.  Did I like it?  Well...it was okay.  I appreciated the way it was made more than I actually enjoyed the movie, though.  Does that indicate that the film has lost its edge over the years, or am I just jaded after seeing so many gory horror movies?  While it's true that a lot of time has passed since this film came out, and it is a film that suggests more than it shows, I think it still packs as much of a punch as ever.  There are some seriously disturbing scenes, particularly the violent masturbation scene and the first possession scene.  However, I was unimpressed with the classic pea soup vomit and Blair's head turning like it was on a lazy susan; they looked technically fine, but I thought they were the least frightening aspects of the possession.  So, I would argue that the film has aged pretty well and that the more explicit scenes were my least favorites.

The key to a film like this is that, since it is not aiming for brainless gore, it has to build the suspense.  Maybe I have just absorbed the basic plot elements through popular culture, but I was never curious as to what would happen next.  Despite the quality of the film-making, I was never frightened or uneasy (well, the needles and blood spurting at the hospital made me uncomfortable).  The story spends a lot of time getting to the exorcism because it's not a normal Catholic practice; because I knew basically how the story went, the build up to legitimize the act of exorcism felt unnecessary to me. Would this movie had been more effective if I was completely unaware of the storyline?  Probably.  Would it be more frightening if I were a Catholic, like the characters in the movie?  Again, probably; this movie didn't attack my beliefs as much as it did any chance of me eating pea soup. Is any of this the film's fault?  Well, that's debatable.  I think I will give the movie another try next Fall and see if it grows on me.  As it is, I can't argue quality work, even if I didn't particularly care for it.

The Wolfman (Unrated)

Hollywood and the American public have a short memory.  That's a good thing, since Hollywood loves to remake films.  Sometimes it works, like with Dawn of the Dead (2004), The Maltese Falcon (1941), or Batman (1989).  Sometimes it fails spectacularly, like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003) or Psycho (1998).  Most of the time, though, remakes fail to leave any mark on the public consciousness ("Jeff Daniels was in a King Kong remake?  The Dumb and Dumber guy?"), and usually deservedly so.  The Wolfman is a remake of the 1941 movie, The Wolf Man, which starred Lon Chaney Jr. in his signature role.  This time, the ill-fated Lawrence Talbot is played by Benicio del Toro.  Will his interpretation be the one that we remember, or will it fade into obscurity over time?

You know a character is going to be a fun-loving party dude when his first scene has him playing Hamlet on the stage, despite being at least ten years older than the character.  That is where we find Lawrence Talbot in 1891 London, just before he is informed of his brother's disappearance by Gwen (Emily Blunt), who is engaged to he missing brother.  His brother lived on their family estate with their father, so Lawrence boards a train for his home town of Blackmoor; on the train Lawrence encounters a stranger (Max von Sydow), who wants to give Lawrence a fine cane with a silver wolf's head for the handle.  Lawrence refuses the kind offer, only to jerk himself awake the next moment, alone in the compartment.  But look...!  The cane is where the man was sitting.  Or was he?  The mystery will remain forever unsolved, because this scene was apparently cut from the theatrical version and has no bearing on the core plot.  Thanks for showing up, Max. 

Lawrence arrives home and greets his estranged father, Sir John Talbot (Anthony Hopkins), who is a weird guy.  Think latter day Ted Nugent meets that creepy, quiet guy who stares at people in the library.  The reason the two men are estranged has something to do with the suicide of Lawrence's mother (Christina Contes), although it's not clear exactly why.  Anyway, the missing Talbot brother has turned up dead, so Lawrence goes to the morgue and takes a look.  Apparently, his brother was delicious, because there's not much left of him.  Lawrence then returns to London to use this tragedy as fuel for his dramatic tendencies, the end.

"Hey, that's not how it goes!"  No kidding.  We all know that Lawrence is going to get bitten by a werewolf.  Just like all werewolf movies, there are going to be scenes where he is physically changing, but has no idea what's happening to him, and just like all werewolf movies, his werewolf self will attack some people, probably fatally.  That's the problem with remaking classic movies.  Even if the audience is not familiar with original film, they have been exposed to its plot elements in other films that were influenced by the original.  And since this is a serious film, you know just as certainly that the werewolf won't be playing basketball or singing along to "Werewolves of London." 

The Wolfman does a good job of staying true to the original material, for better or for worse.  Technically, this is a pretty good looking film.  The cinematography captures the creepy vibe that Gothic horror requires.  The action sequences are entertaining, filled with high-quality gore.  I don't know what this unrated version included that the theatrical did not, but I'm guessing it might involve some of the near-disembowelings.  The special effects, while good, sometimes feel out of place, though.  When Lawrence transforms into a werewolf, the transformation process looks like a character from Beowolf was transposed over Benicio del Toro.  Once he's fully transformed and in makeup, he looks great.  Unfortunately, having noticeable CGI in a movie set in the 1890s feels anachronistic.  That's not the only instance of that problem; the city of London looks fake at points, and the werewolves, when they run, appear surprisingly weightless.  Details like that add up quickly over two hours.

The acting and directing also have strong moments and weak ones.  Benicio del Toro is good in his werewolf persona, but his human self is awkward and uninteresting.  Anthony Hopkins does a good job with his nonverbal actions, coming across as someone who enjoys the thrill of the hunt, but I felt that he just mailed in the rest of his performance.  I'm pretty sure his explanation of his character would be "How about a jerk that is thinking about other things when you speak to him?"  Emily Blunt was fine, but she and del Toro never had the chemistry you need for a convincing love story.  That leaves Hugo Weaving, who played a Scotland Yard detective investigating the murders, as the only important part that was acted well.  You could (and should) blame director Joe Johnston for the film's acting problems, but he didn't do a bad job.  None of the acting (except maybe Hopkins) was bad, it was just very reserved.  I liked the way he told the story, even if I didn't particularly like the script.

I think the biggest obstacle to this film was setting it in Victorian England.  I understand that Gothic horror stories take place in the Victorian era, but it is a time very far removed from the present.  When the first wave of classic horror movies were made (Frankenstein, Dracula, and The Wolf Man), they were set about fifty years in the past, instead the120 years that now separate the present from Victorian times.  I think that time difference makes it more difficult to identify with the characters.  The best movies that use this time period are the ones that use the notoriously repressed Victorian emotions and show the passions that lay beneath the calm exterior.  So, basically, romances.  Modern horror movies set in this time period don't have the luxury of convincing love stories, and that is one of the main reasons that Bram Stoker's Dracula was underwhelming and why Mary Shelley's Frankenstein was so painful to watch.  The Wolfman is filled with characters that are humorless and devoid of passion, and that makes this visually attractive movie less than stellar.

This film is not devoid of quality.  I thought the action was well done (except for the final battle --- that was lame) and I liked how bloody it was.  This movie definitely had promise, but it was handicapped by the filmmakers' desire to stay true to the original.  It ended up being pretty predictable (which I can deal with in remakes) and the characters were left emotionally undeveloped (which is never a good choice).  When you add it all up, you are left with yet another forgettable Hollywood remake.

Shutter Island

It's difficult to write about a thriller or mystery movie because nobody wants to be That Guy who reveals that Darth Vader is Luke Skywalker's Keyser Soze.  This presents me with a challenge: to ramble on at length without being That Guy.  I think I can manage that, but this is a mystery movie, so it has a twist.  That's as much of a spoiler as I'm going to give you.

Adapted from Dennis Lehane's best-selling book of the same name, Shutter Island has more than a few similarities to Lehane's Mystic River.  Boy, that Lehane has a tough life; a best-selling author who gets his books optioned into movies that are directed by some of the most talented directors in the world.  You would think he'd write happier tales.  Anyway, both Mystic River and Shutter Island are mysteries that rely heavily on their characters' secrets to reach their logical conclusion.

Here, we have Teddy Daniels (Leonardo DiCaprio), a US Marshall that volunteered for a case that would give him an excuse to poke around Shutter Island, a maximum security mental hospital for the criminally insane.  On the ferry ride to the island, Daniels meets his new partner, Chuck (Mark Ruffalo), and they enter the facility together.  They are ostensibly there to investigate the disappearance of Rachel Solando (Emily Mortimer), a patient --- not a prisoner! --- that managed to escape the facility, despite a locked door, barred windows, no shoes, rugged terrain, and several guards stationed throughout the building.  That doesn't sound like an inside job at all, does it?  Rachel was incarcerated for drowning her three children.  The real reason for Daniels' visit is to learn the fate of Andrew Laeddis (Elias Koteas), the pyromaniac that burned down Daniels' home with his wife (Michelle Williams) inside.  Laeddis was assigned to the facility after going to jail, but his paper trail ended on Shutter Island...but no one admits to knowing him.  Once inside the facility, Daniels and Chuck meet Dr. Cawley (Ben Kingsley), a practitioner of humane treatment for the mentally ill, and Dr. Naehring (Max von Sydow), a member of the old-school of psychiatric treatment that prefers lobotomy over patience.

From the start of the investigation, nothing goes Daniels' way.  The facility guards refuse him entrance while armed, so he has to give up his gun.  He asks for files that are clearly commonsense ways for him to get the essential information he needs, but he is blocked by the facility's bureaucracy at every turn.  He lost his cigarettes before the boat arrived at the island, and is forced to bum smokes from his new partner.  Orderlies and nurses are sarcastic and generally less than helpful.  The patients he interviews appear coached and seem afraid when he questions them about Andrew Laeddis.  When he faces the truth that the doctors are refusing to aid his case, Daniels can't even leave the island because a hurricane is on its way.  With nothing else to do, Daniels continues his investigation.  Clearly, there is some secret that is being covered up, and he is determined to discover that truth.  He eventually meets with an old informant (Jackie Earle Haley) that is now confined in the most violent ward of the facility, who seems to confirm Daniels' greatest fear; Daniels can uncover the truth behind the island and blow the lid off the whole conspiracy, or he can find out what happened to Andrew Laeddis.  He cannot do both.  The question is what is more important to Daniels: uncovering a terrible truth for the world to see, or finding (killing?) the man responsible for the death of his wife?

Martin Scorsese's direction really stands out in this film, particularly because of Daniels' dreams.  Daniels is suffering from a string of nightmares, hallucinations and waking dreams that are reminding him of his late wife and the Dachau concentration camp that he helped liberate in World War II.  In the dream world, identities are transposed, but the emotions are not.  Memories are shown, but they are spliced with his own subconscious.  At times, the imagery is a little trippy, like when his cigarette briefly smokes in reverse.  Other times, it is sad, as when his wife becomes ash in his arms while he professes his love for her.  And yet other times are the stuff of nightmares, with Holocaust children accusing him of not doing enough to save them.  Scorsese is given free reign to use a lot of symbolism in these scenes, and he throws a lot at the viewer.  In a lot of Scorsese films, he makes good use of camera angles and general cinematography to imply moods or hint at his characters' frame of mind.  He does that in Shutter Island, as well, but he has a lot more freedom to get creative, thanks to the dream scenes.

As far as acting goes, it is all pretty much above board.  Leonardo DiCaprio is consistently good, and working so frequently with Scorsese seems to have taught him the value of subtlety and nuance.  I'm not saying that he was ever an over-actor, but there are a lot of little things he does with his character that I appreciate, from the hunched shoulders and bold stance to the frequent (but not horribly obvious) reminders of his character's tendency for migraine headaches.  DiCaprio carries this movie on his own, but there are a lot of good supporting cast members that briefly pop up.  Mark Ruffalo does a pretty good job as the junior partner and his compassion shows through consistently.  Ben Kingsley and Max von Sydow both play their parts well, but what else would you expect from two respected actors?  Ted Levine has a very brief, but frightening, cameo as the facility warden.  Jackie Earle Haley appears to be having a career renaissance playing disturbed characters, and that pleasant trend continues here with some of the more curious wound makeup I have seen in a while.  Michelle Williams was impressive in her small supporting role and was used effectively.  The rest of the cast (including Patricia Clarkson, Emily Mortimer, and John Carroll Lynch) is good too, but perhaps not as attention-grabbing.

Even with good direction and good acting, a mystery movie can still be underwhelming if the mystery is no good.  I really liked the story in Shutter Island, even though I was not particularly surprised by the ending.  Normally, if I guess the ending to a mystery correctly, it bothers me a bit.  Here, though, Scorsese drops a lot of hints that flesh out the story and the characters.  While one side effect of those choices was a less than surprising answer to the mystery, it was also satisfying because the twist made sense.  You still might not guess the ending correctly (or, at least, not entirely correctly), but you won't feel as if the end came out of left field.  Since the movie spent so much time on Daniels' subconscious mind, the mystery really takes a back seat to that as the primary plot propeller.  As such, the surprise-worthiness of the ending turned out to be a lot less important than I thought it would be.

This is the sort of film that college students love to write about.  It has excellent direction with a lot of stylistic choices and meaningful symbolism and imagery.  After the movie, you can revisit scenes in your head (or just re-watch the scenes on your DVD) and pick out important details that you missed the first time through.  This is a movie that I expect to be better the second time I watch it because being fully informed of the story will allow me to understand many of the scenes from a different angle next time.  While I completely understand anyone who enjoyed the movie less because the mystery's answer was a little predictable, I thoroughly enjoyed the story, acting and the film as a whole the first time through, and look forward to a repeat viewing.  I may be a little artsy fartsy with movies sometimes, but I appreciate good craftsmanship when I see it.

Robin Hood (2010)

You might not remember this, but when Russell Crowe originally signed on to this project, it was to play the Sheriff of Nottingham.  As a hero.  Whatever.  Later, he was going to play both the Sheriff and Robin Hood; I don't know if he was going to do an Eddie Murphy makeup job to pull it off, or if it was a plot twist that had one character assuming the role of the other, or if he was going to be costumed like Tommy Lee Jones in Batman Forever or what.  Eventually, the project mutated further, which brought it back to the more recognizable form we see in this film.

I mention the history behind the project because it helps make sense of some of the choices this movie makes.  A lot of the iconic scenes from past Robin Hoods are absent here and a few characters that have been historically important roles are pushed aside here.  That doesn't make this a bad movie, mind you.  It's just different.  If you think of this as "Robin Hood Begins," then you'll be able to approach the movie with a fresh mind-set and appreciate it for what it is: a Ridley Scott-directed, Russell Crowe-starring action movie.  And there's nothing wrong with that.

Robin Longstride (Russell Crowe) is coming back from the Crusades in the army of King Richard the Lionheart (Danny Huston) of England, when the army pauses on their journey home to pillage a French castle.  Bad idea; the Lionheart dies.  Robin and his buddies decide to rush to the coast while they can, because they know the rush to England will make boat rides pretty scarce.  They weren't the only ones with this idea; Robin Locksley of Nottingham was leading a party of knights to the king's ship to escort his royal crown back to England and give it to the royal family.  Again, bad idea; the knights are ambushed by French soldiers, led by Godfrey (Mark Strong), the right-hand man of Prince John.  Godfrey is working as a double agent, pretending to be loyal to England, but is really working for France's King Phillip in exchange for power and riches.  Robin and his men ambush the ambushers, killing most but Godfrey escapes with a nasty Joker-esque scar from Robin's arrow.  Robin promises the dying Locksley to return his family sword to Nottingham and the crown to the royal family.  Oddly enough, he does both.

That synopsis doesn't even get into the meat of the story, does it?  This is a pretty complicated plot for a character that is supposed to rob from the rich and give to the poor.  I could go on, but it gets a little silly.  I suppose that should be rephrased as, "I can go on, and it gets a little silly out of context:"

• Robin assumes the identity of Robin Locksley, then abandons it, only to assume it once more upon the request of Locksley's father (Max von Sydow).  
• The sheriff of Nottingham is bullied by Godfrey's men and contributes absolutely nothing to the plot or character development of the movie.  
• Robin is only referred to as "Robin Hood" twice in the entire movie.
• Are those the Lost Boys from Peter Pan in Sherwood Forest?
• Robin fights for King John.  
• Robin is married to Marion before they even kiss.  
• There is an implied orgy.
• He steals from the rich church and gives to the poor plants crops in the night.

Surprisingly, this all works pretty well.  Godfrey and his French soldiers have been attacking the towns and property of the British nobles, in the name of King John.  Logically, the nobles prepare to team up and attack King John; this is Godfrey's plan to weaken England's army so France can invade.  Robin steps in and essentially suggests the Magna Carta by declaring that every man should have liberty by law.  This is enough to get England to band together and they attack France's invading forces in a suitably epic battle.  To put it simply, a lot happens in this movie.

Ridley Scott can direct an action movie in his sleep, which might be why parts of this film are a tad reminiscent of the battle scenes from his previous movies.  Still, Scott and screenwriter Brian Helgeland (who is completely hit and miss --- The Postman AND LA Confidential?  Really?!?  A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master AND Man on Fire?!?) clearly wanted this to be a unique middle ages experience.  This is definitely the most authentic-looking Robin Hood movie to date, with what appears to be genuine military strategy from those times.  The weapons look good and they are used correctly; this is important if you're one of those people who doesn't think action heroes should be able to carry anti-aircraft guns and run at the same time.  The clothing also is very authentic.  The details throughout the film add to the appeal because they aren't necessarily obvious, but every so often I found myself thinking "Oh, look, Robin's bow fingers look different than the rest of his hand," or something like that.  Not terribly important stuff always, but nice to see.

Russell Crowe generally acts in movies where he is the only developed character, and that is basically true here.  This isn't an Oscar-worthy role for him, but he does everything you want Crowe to do in an action movie: he is tough, honorable, a little sensitive, and looks a little uncomfortable making jokes.  Oh, and he's a bad-ass.  Can't forget that.  The next most developed character is Marion, played by Cate Blanchett; Blanchett, like Crowe, turns in a pretty standard performance here.  She's still a go-to actress to play smart characters and she plays the role appropriately.  Mark Strong is dastardly as Godfrey, but he doesn't do much except be eeee-veeeel.  There is no denying that he does bad well.  There is also no denying that he looks like an evil Andy Garcia.  The rest of the characters are much less developed.  I actually liked Kevin Durand as Little John; he provides a lot of the smiles in the movie and he looks huge here, as opposed to most Little Johns, who have tended toward "big boned" as well as strong.  Scott Grimes (Will Scarlet), Alan Doyle (Allan A'Dayle), and Mark Addy (Friar Tuck) are okay as the rest of Robin's Merry Men, but they are in the background for most of the movie.  Similarly, William Hurt and Danny Huston are left criminally underused in this story.  Matthew Macfayden played the Sheriff of Nottingham, but his three scenes just leave you scratching your head, because he is ineffectual, at best.  To be fair to Macfayden, though, the character has nothing to do in this film.  On the other hand, Oscar Isaac is suitably weasely as King John, playing rude, ruthless, and wussy simultaneously.  Eileen Atkins (as King John's mom) and Lea Seydoux (King John's wife) are fittingly regal and actually succeed with the little material they are given.  Overall, I would say the acting is surprisingly good for the number of characters in the movie, but most of the performances are superficial.

That said, there were some things in this movie that bugged me.  First of all, I have a problem with movie titles that imply that their story is the definitive telling of a particular tale (see Ed Gein or Pearl Harbor for examples).  By calling this movie "Robin Hood," viewers have every reasonable expectation to see the iconic scenes from the legend and previous film adaptations, like the scene where Robin and Little John meet over a river (which is kind-of-not-really replaced with a game of medieval three card monte).  I have no problem with that scene (or any others) being omitted here; I just think that, since this is clearly a re-imagining of the story, the title should have been changed to Robin Hood Begins, The Untold Truth of Robin Hood, or even Robin Longstride or Robin of the Hood.  Any of these would have clearly pointed out that this story could differ from the more familiar ones.

Another problem I have is the historical inaccuracies.  Most Robin Hood stories end when King Richard returns to England to reclaim his throne; here he dies before Robin becomes a Hood.  Robin (and his father before him) propose a charter of rights (clearly alluding to the Magna Carta, which King John will eventually sign), but the dates of the movie set this up over a decade early.  King John never went into battle.  Oh, and one more minor point... the French never invaded England.  HA!  It's like making a Revolutionary War movie and having America fight the Spanish, or a Civil War film that uses the secession of states as the reason why Canada isn't part of this country.  Oh, our culture is ignorant.  Of course, little things like the perversion of history are not going to bother anyone. 

Inaccuracies aside, I enjoyed this movie.  It's got a lot of plot for a pretty simple story, but it still makes sense.  The action is good and the acting is pretty solid throughout.  I'm a little surprised that Robin doesn't do his normal Socialist thing of redistributing wealth from the rich to the poor.  His whole take on individual freedoms seems an awful lot like Libertarianism to me, which is an interesting direction to take such an iconic character.  I wish there was more humor in the movie, but the tone is at least consistent throughout.  If the focus had been on character development instead of a plot that incorporated so many known-but-underused characters here, I think the film would have been much more enjoyable.  Really, do we need to have Friar Tuck, Allan A'Dayle, William Marshall, or even the Sheriff of Nottingham in this story?  No.  With so many changes from the traditional tale, this movie could have easily gotten away with omitting a lot of the supporting cast.  Of course, some of these criticisms only occurred to me after thinking about the movie for a bit.  I have no problem saying that (aside from the history lesson) I had no problems when the movie was playing.

Three Days of the Condor

Three Days of the Condor is a Robert Redford thriller based on the novel, Six Days of the Condor, by James Grady.  I'm assuming that the tag line for the film was "All the thrills of the book in half the time!"  The director was a frequent Redford collaborator, Sydney Pollack.  I'm  not a huge fan of Redford or Pollack, to be honest --- I'm sure they make good films, but they rarely pique my interest --- but this one is actually pretty solid.

This film has a sense of plausibility that rings true, and it feels like the flip side of Redford's Spy Game.  In that movie, Redford is the ultimate CIA insider, pulling strings and playing games to get things done; in Condor, Redford is a novice in the spy game, trying to figure out what the pros are doing.

The plot is relatively simple for a spy movie.  Redford works, in a non-spy capacity, for the CIA.  His job, and that of his entire department, is to read fiction and enter the relevant plots and codes into a computer, which compares the fictional data with actual CIA missions (planned or otherwise).  One day, while Redford is out getting lunch for the office, his entire department is assassinated.  Suitably alarmed, he contacts his superiors at the CIA to arrange for them to take him into protective custody.  This would make for a short movie, but it turns out that he is double crossed, and is almost killed at the pick up.  From that point on, Redford has to use his own knowledge of CIA plots to figure out why somebody wants him dead.  Like I said, it's not a terribly complicated plot.  In fact, there is a part where Redford has been up all night trying to puzzle out his situation and the camera shows the paper he has been writing on; the paper had maybe four things on it.  Whoa, there, Robert!  Don't get caught up in the details!

With a plot that sparse, the actors must carry a heavier load.  Here, Redford does a fine job as a man out of his element, but clever enough to know what to do and how to counter some basic spy techniques.  Faye Dunaway plays a random woman that Redford forces to help him, and her character's emotional arc is pretty natural. Still, I think being kidnapped, more or less, by someone who looks like Robert Redford made her character's compliance a little more believable.  Somehow I doubt that John Cazale would have had such an easy time telling a beautiful woman "I'm not going to hurt you, I just need some place to rest."  Well, he could say that, but he wake up in prison.  Max von Sydow does a very good job playing an assassin-for-hire.  His second scene with Redford was both charming and disconcerting at the same time.  Unfortunately, he only shares the screen with Redford twice; the rest of his scenes show significantly less depth and character.  Cliff Robertson (Uncle Ben in the Spider-Man movies) is Redford's CIA contact; his everyman looks may lend credibility to the role, but I felt that his acting was mediocre.  Not good, not bad, but maybe just a little above Charles Bronson.

Overall, the lack of a convoluted plot was refreshing to see in a spy movie.  Redford and Dunaway did their jobs well, and von Sydow turned in one of his better performances here.