Terminator: Salvation (2009)

I feel bad for this movie; moreover, I feel bad for almost all of the movies to come out this summer. Why? Because they have to live under the shadow of The Dark Knight. Summer fare didn't used to have to propose such high standards. You could get away with The Mummy Returns and X men 3. They might be crappy movies, but they didn't have to shy away from their genetic code. They were popcorn crunchers, nothing more, a few hours out of the sun. Then last summer happened, and summer movies evolved. With Batman and perhaps Iron Man, (but most certainly with Wall-E) the summer movie found a brain. They could not only entertain and rack in money, but they could fundamentally be about something. With Iron Man, Tony Stark inhabited a world that seemed altogether part of our own; it had logical underpinnings and real motives (and terrorists!). With Wall-E, Pixar quit making films for children and ascended to a more realistic and serious approach. And with The Dark Knight, Christoper Nolan found a way to approach existential themes from the absurd vantage point of a man who dresses up as a bat at night.

Put it this way: Since last summer, I've stopped going to the movies like I used to. I think I realize(d) that the summer fare of 2008 was something that would take years to ever match again.

And so we have summer 2009. And the best reminder for it all is that last summer was miraculous. Terminator: Salvation is a worthy addition to summer movies; the biggest mistake of the movie is that it tried to hard to mirror The Dark Knight. People will compare it to that (hell, they already have), and that will be its bane. But lets look at the movie under standard summer fare. Do I want to see another Terminator after this? Hell fucking yes. McG has done something with the Terminator franchise that has not been done yet. He created a world, albeit a postapocalyptic one (puke), that fleshes out the mythology of the Terminators and John Connor. Consider what the franchise has been. THe first one was an exploitation piece, and nothing more. A perfect excuse for a bad guy to blow stuff up real good. THe second one was only a tentpole for Cameron's obsession with spanking new technology, and nothing more. It's frustrating to hear people devote so much scrutiny to these two movies for their stories; I hardly doubt that Cameron promoted the strength of their stories to get them made. If he did, wouldn't he have cast someone other than Ahhnuld? And the third Terminator that everyone smirks at...why? Once again, another tentpole for limitless action. None of these movies made much effort to create a sequel. McG has done just that. He has taken these three films (which barely constitute a franchise anyways) and created a world. He has taken the skeleton and added muscle and tissue.

How does that vision look? I think it's fascinating that in his pitch to Christian Bale, McG handed the actor a copy of Cormac McCarthy's The Road and told him this was going to be his approach. How bold! To compare a 4th installment to a relatively weak franchise to Cormac?! If I were Bale, I think I would have to appreciate that gesture. My interpretation of all this is that McG is making this movie as an attempt to prove his clout as a filmmaker with a funny name. ANd I respect that. I think the movie does just that.

The action, for the most part, was pretty incredible. In particular, the chase scene (A Terminator staple) with the sentient motorcycles drew forth a few "Goddamns!" from me. I loved his references to the other movies, as well. I think that's a worthy way to pay tribute and also move on. In other words, McG allows some winks, but never do they alter the tone. I worry, however, that the Arnold pseudo-cameo may not hold up in the long run. We'll see. I appreciated it.

Mainly, it was just the little things in the movie that pleased me. Little efforts here and there to show that everyone was making an effort on this project. The one shot scene where Connor gets in a helicopter and subsequently crashes. The introduction of new robots. The outstanding scene in the creek meshes the franchise's close relationship with action and horror. Count how many references to the earlier movies are in this, and you can start to see the amount of time that was put into this. I hope that McG does this again with a project of his own; he has paid his dues.

Dickens

"It was impossible for me to avoid seeing that she cared to attract me; that she made herself winning; and would have won me even if the task had needed pains. Yet this made me none the happier, for, even if she had not taken that tone of our being disposed of by others, I should have felt that she held my heart in her hand because she willfully chose to do it, and not because it would have wrung any tenderness in her, to crush it and throw it away" -Great Expectations, Chapter XXXIII.

Well, I'm not sure if anyone has found a better way to describe the pain of adolescence for boys. This describes it perfectly. There's an awareness going on, when Pip realizes that it is more torturous to be in love with someone than to be out of it. Pip and Estella's intentions are not the same; Pip is in love because he doesn't know how to get out of love. Estella, however, has figured out the game. She wins over Pip not out of love, but out of the desire to capture him in her throngs, to force love out of him so that she can control him. THat's what makes the last sentence so painful; Pip realizes that she does not love him because she cannot control it. She consciously loves him to possess him, and would have no problem ripping his heart out to prove her control.

Hancock (2008)

My buddy had told me that this was a terrible movie, but I was pleasantly surprised. I always wonder how these movies would do if they didn't have Will Smith in them. He carries with him a genuine "likeability" that really makes it hard not to pull me into his ridiculous action movies. It's funny, then, to see him go out and be a bad guy (for a bit) as he says and does some ridiculous things. I know the movie was originally supposed to be called Tonight, He Comes, which, in all honesty, seems more interesting. Imagine a hero who is frustrated with his superpowers. When he has sex with a woman, his orgasm literally kills her. I guess great power does require great responsibility.

Peter Berg's film, however, is noble in at least trying to fit that in to the PG-13 rating; I wonder what parents thought during that trailer scene. I'd attribute it to bad sewage. Needless to say, it was scenes like that one that really made the first hour of this movie shine. Smith rampages through the city as he "saves the world" by breaking as much as possible. Ebert has always wondered what the bodycount and damage calculations were in the films with the incredible car chases. Think of the Matrix Reloaded; imagine the phone calls that insurance companies received that day. This movie, then, actually considers how people might react to the damage. I know if I was in my office building and someone flew by and ripped out the wall, I'd be perturbed.

Once the film picks up on its plot, it does start to lose a little steam. You could tell they were having way too much fun at the beginning, but knew they had to go on and reel this into typical summer fare. The story is just mediocre, and not very well-developed. Jason Bateman and Charlize Theron do their best to have fun with it, but I don't think we ever really care too much about the outcome. I think Theron knew this, because she was looking way too good for me to worry about anything she was saying for the last half of the movie. The climax was also disappointing, as I didn't feel threatened at all by Eddie Marsan's thug character. But as I said, I think this is one of those movies where we can feel the winks of the actors and the people who made it. Yeah yeah, they know this is corny; might as well have fun while they're doing it then, right? For proof of this, listen to Smith talk to the frustrated citizens at during the train track scene. What a talent.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008)

One of my professors has a theory about American culture. Just like the Victorians had a secret fascination with sex and the dirty deeds that take place behind bedroom doors, Americans have a secret fascination (or fear) of death and its implications. I think she might have something; considering the state of standard television fare, Americans don't seem to have a problem with sex at all. But death? Well, that's not something that Tyra and Oprah talk about too often. Sure, they tell sad stories, but what do they have to say about those final moments? THe justification of death and dying has definitely been an interest of mine in the last year or so, and I think Benjamin Button dedicates his life to the dreaded topic.

David Fincher has admitted that the story revealed itself as a metaphor for death. Despite the fairy tale nature of the film, there is a high body count going on here. Born as an old man who ages backwards as he grows older, Benjamin is surrounded by people approaching death's door. His infancy is surrounded by death; losing the ones he loves, the ones that were around to raise him, becomes his nurture. Thus, Benjamin never allows death to anger him or sadden him. He watches it in a curious fascination, trying to figure out why people go through it, and what it might be like. I think he's drawn to the loneliness of death, because he does understand what it's like to be lonely. He knows what it's like when the world has given up any expectations of you. There is a overall feeling of detachment in the film that pushed a lot of people away from the movie. It's strange to see the blankness of Benjamin when he comes home and realizes his surrogate mother has died. No outburst, no tears, even, just a calmn awareness of what must be.

However, I think the movie does possess a sentimentality that is hard to come across in movies today. In fact, I think the movie is drenched with it. What a strange effect, to look at death in a romantic fashion, to view it not with dread or disgust, but with wonder and intrigue. The only person that runs from death is Daisy, and her character is the hardest to like. There have been comparisons to Forrest Gump, and there certainly are parallels. However, I think there is one fundamental difference between the two movies. Forrest Gump was about life and living and experiencing the world. Benjamin Button is about death and the acceptance of it. Forrest seems invincible from death, and weeps when he loses those he loves. Benjamin seems obsessed with death, and observes everyone's converging journey towards it. You can feel the passage of time in this movie, and it's very calm.

The final minutes of this movie are heartbreaking, and I'm not really sure why. I think it's sad that Benjamin can't experience death the way he has seen everyone else experience it. He wants to be paradoxically alive has he prepares for death, but his condition does not allow it. Youth becomes a metaphor for senility, and he is unable to take care of his vessel and get ready for death. The scene where Daisy reads The Old Kangaroo story to him is beautiful; their relationship inverses, and the symmetry is devastating. I believe Daisy when she sees Benjamin's final moments. He has seen too much death in his life to understand it even as a baby. This is one of the movies, I think, that I will carry with me for the rest of my life. Anyone who says David Fincher sold out for this movie needs to go shove Fight Club up their ass. That movie didn't know how to live.

"You can be as mad as a mad dog at the way things went. You could swear, curse the Fates, but when it comes to the end, you have to let go."

"Along the way you bump into people who make a dent in your life. Some people get struck by lightning. Some are born to sit by a river. Some have an ear for music. Some are artists. Some swim the English Channel. Some know buttons. Some know Shakespeare. Some are mothers. And some people can dance."

That closing montage is what I hope heaven is like.

Murderball (2005)

It's nice when a movie teaches you something about yourself. It's better, though, when a movie reminds you about things that you failed to consider. My ignorance towards the burdens of quadriplegics derives not from lack of compassion, but from the fact that I've never not considered being able to walk. Or tie my shoes. Or wipe my ass. Or play rugby. These things we take for granted because we have to, because our lives are not about them. But what happens when they're taken away? There's a moment in the film where Keith, a newly paralyzed individual, struggles just to sit upright on the hospital bed. His courage astounds me; I sat there knowing that suicide would probably cross my mind. Reducing my life to those struggles terrified me, and that was when I realized the film is not about "murderball".

No. The film wants to talk about these people and their daily struggles with the things we take for granted. Watching Bob Lujano (no arms or legs) do the dishes and pour himself a glass of water is incredible; extraordinary feats become their routine. In that case, quad rugby is nothing special. All it does is let them get involved in something normal. It evens the playing field for them; no one watches in sympathy. They watch in awe.

To be honest, the most boring moments of the film are the game scenes. I waited through these to hear more about their stories. Zupan has become the main image of the film, and for good reason. His ruggedness surprises us, because our social reaction is to reach out to these people and give them pity. But why? Apart from the chairs they sit in, they're extremely normal. Average, even. They have the same interests as regular guys; pussy, beer, and chatting with their friends. It's surprising to see so much character in a person like Zupan. What's even more surprising is his backstory behind why he's in the chair. This might be the most sincere portion of the film, and the results of it are heartwarming.

I did not expect to cry in this movie. But there is a moment with a father and son that shows the hardships these people have faced and overcome with love and compassion. The lessons learned in this do not have anythign to do with sports. Sure, we want them to win, but we know they've already won. They're still rolling along. They're still smiling. Life goes on.

Scenes From A Marriage (1973)

I always feel intimidated when I first start a Bergman film. This intimidation does not come from a coldness or dislike towards Ingmar Bergman, but rather from his ability to expose certain anxieties of my own life. His Wild Strawberries affected me on such a level that I'm afraid to go back and watch it right now. It might have been a religious experience, in the sense that it opened up the world and my expectations of it. It asked questions that I had never considered; it showed our questions about death in an unflinching light. I'm haunted by the Professor's fidgeting in his bed as he awaits an ever-nearing death. Bergman has a certain ability to penetrate our existential fears and put them on the table and merely look at them and wonder over them.

I wanted to watch Scenes From A Marriage, then, because I felt that Bergman would be the best man to speak to me directly with issues that have taken place in my recent life. I thought that I might be able to find another movie that affected me on that plane of personal intimacy. In short, I wanted answers for what was going wrong in my own life. If that can be mirrored on film, let me try that.

Roger Ebert calls this movie (I'm paraphrasing) one of the truest and most pure love stories to ever grace the screen. I'm not sure if it's a love story, but I do think that it is about as true as one can get when talking about people caught up in love. Love does not exist within societal boundaries like marriage or divorce. Johan and Marianne find that out by going through all the motions that many married couples go through. On paper, it looks clean and honest and "fair". In dark rooms in quiet places in the universe, fairness and legality wait in the hallway. One of Bergman's common themes is communication and its common failures. I sat there trying to figure out when Marianne and Johan were sincere and when they were bluffing, when they were trying to hurt each other and when they were trying to win the other one back. Sometimes, I felt I could detect this within them, other times I had to look away in agony. Sex is used both as a weapon and as a guilty pleasure. They both go on the offensive and defensive, but none ever seems able to score.

The most comforting thing about this movie was knowing that these themes are universal. I watched this movie and found almost every frame to be absolutely true. Despite the sorrow of the movie, this truth reassured me. It reassured me that this is the human condition, to love uncontrollably. It comforted me with my own problems taking place in life right now, and maybe that is why Woody ALlen is right when he says Bergman is the best film artist out there. Allen says that we leave Bergman films not depressed, but totally uplifted because we just witnessed art at its highest capability. If art is supposed to mirror life, to reflect on our failures and flaws as human beings, then Bergman is the man for the job. I did not leave this movie feeling depressed; I felt calm, sleepy even. I had witnessed something that was sad, yes, and even sorrowful, but I had the reassuring feeling that it was inexplicably true.

On The Waterfront (1954)

I think it was about halfway through the movie that I realized the acting was something to behold as groundbreaking and even electrifying. I stopped the movie after the priest's speech to the dock workers (an absolute high point in the film) to see if the actor, Karl Malden, won the Supporting Actor Oscar for that year. Although he did not (surprising), what was even more surprising was that he and two other actors (Lee Cobbs and Rod Steiger) also received Supporting Actor nominations. To add to this, both Marlon Brando and Eva Marie Saint won the Actor and Actress categories. Aha, Sherlock, proof that the movie's acting really did have something exciting going on. The story, you see, is nothing extraordinary; a man unites against the mob and stands up for the common worker. I did not know, however, that the movie stands as an allegory for Elia Kazan's testimony against fellow Communists within Hollywood. What an interesting idea, then, to find a reason for "ratting out your friends", something that the gangsters in Goodfellas would never do.

While not fully impressed with Eva Marie Saint, Marlon Brando is something to see. I know that's not really news, but he does possess a warmth that lets you in as fast as it pushes you away. It's like hovering near a fire: it draws you in, but stand too close and the heat snaps you away from it. Certain actors like Russell Crowe and Mel Gibson possess a masculinity that defines their character; Brando is the same. And what's interesting about all three of these actors is the sensitivty that intermixes with their hyper machismo. Brando seems to whisper half of his lines, a boxer with a broken heart. I can't tell if his Terry Malloy's eyes are welted up from previous boxing matches or welted shut from the sadness that his character continues to give off.

His "I coulda been a contender" speech is startling because the parodies of it are so different than the actual speech. If only most people who knew the line in popular culture knew what he was actually talking about, who he was actually talking to, the line would have so much more resonance than just a catch phrase. It hurts for him to admit what he was, and what he has become. The film has moments like the taxi scene, and the priest's rousing of the men, and the final showdown that really lift the movie into the inspirational category. It's always a good thing when you';re sitting in your chair, secretly cheering for one guy against another. You don't see that much more in Hollywood; the lines have blurred too much. I think this is the movie that Rocky Balboa grew up watching.

Catching Up.

Trying to do a better job with recording my movie viewings. I'm drunk right now, so I'll keep it quick.

Changeling (2008)- Proof that Angelina Jolie is the most stunning actress in American cinema. She's not just beautiful, she can back it up. Christine Collins was a real human being, and I accredit Eastwood for entrusting Jolie to bring that to the screen. Despite this, the movie is grim, grim, grim. It's not totally a noir, but the anxiety and distrust is there. The interesting thing about the movie is that its hero is a woman, and we support her from beginning to end. Dark stuff forming the modern times of America. Somber soundtrack, somber visuals.

Doubt (2008) - Here's a movie that seeks strictly to test you and conflict everything. For that, I can only give the movie credit for making those risks. It doesn't try to make a message; instead, it hints at a message, and then throws it up in the air just to piss you off. Say what you will, but I think the great movies always raise more questions than propose answers. The performances are the most memorable part ( the scenery is rather dreary), and I think Meryl Streep and Phillip Seymour Hoffman run away with it. I have a crush on Amy Adams at this point.

Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia (1973)- Unsure of what to make of this one, to be honest. THe movie is competent, and there are some memorable moments, but there's not feeling of satisfaction or enjoyment or anything during this movie. It's almost painful, I think, to see a man get so obsessed with the man who slept with his lover that he takes him along for the inevitable demise. Explain why he wipes out other couples at least 3 times on 3 separate occasions. There's something going on with how the main character feels about relationships and jealousy. The movie deserves another watching, but I'm not sure if I feel like sitting through it again.

Wild at Heart (1990)- This movie has potential, and it knows it. Imagine the Wizard of Oz transcribed into an apocalyptic Beat America, and you have David Lynch's road movie. The movie is very good, but Lynch has a way of trying our patience to the max. The movie just feels too long, like he had a bunch of interesting ideas and ran with it. Nicolas Cage is great, and so is Willem Defoe as a creepy backwoods criminal. I always appreciate a movie where a bunch of artists do favors in order to collaborate with someone they admire. I saw John Lurie, Isabella Rosselini, and others rampaging across this bizarre American wasteland.

Happy-Go-Lucky

Poppy reminds me of my mommy. Her happiness somehow hides some old and lonely sadness. Why must she be cheerful? What is there to be cheerful about? Poppy, I think, doesn't really wonder why; she only knows the challenge she faces in trying to make everyone happy. An impossible feat, I guess, but that doesn't discourage her. I wonder if making everyone happy in the world requires some own personal loss. Does Poppy find satisfaction from being so cheerful or does it spread her thin? Her relationship with her driving instructor was sweet, but explosive. It's a good thing she's a school teacher, because she quickly detects the childhood scars of Scott's past. Their scenes really outshine the rest of the movie, and I couldn't help but ache a little when Poppy introduced her newfound boyfriend to Scott who could only watch on in helpless anger. His rant to her later said so much about Poppy's purpose in life, but it came from a man who wanted more than just a cheerful smile.

L.A. Confidential

There are some movies where you actually believe they have created a world. The atmosphere, the setting is so real that its immersive and inclusive. L.A. Confidential (1997) is one of those movies, and the setting is a warm and gritty 1950's L.A. I always wonder if people in previous generations were as dirty or as filthy as the ones in my generation; this movie seems to believe so, with the underground pornography, closet homosexuals, hotel murders, betrayals, celebrity fascinations, and abused women. The movie starts out slyly with a glamorous introduction of Hollywood and then spends the rest of the movie deconstructing that notion. Behind the glamour, there are rats and spiders crawling around, and those are the things (that go bump in the night) that drive this city. And behind them? A police force, doing the best they can to keep the streets somewhat manageable, doing the best they can to maintain that sickly-sweet Hollywood image.
The masterstroke of this movie is its introspection on three different cops working in the same force. There is the new guy, intent on building an image and wiping the streets clean. There is the old guy, who's been in the force long enough to know the in's and out's, and how to make a profit on the side. And then there's Bud White (Russell Crowe), the most fascinating character of the movie, who does not really know what his purpose is within the force. The movie sticks with these three men, weaving in and out of their own personal successes and problems, while at the same time developing a grand criminal scheme. Beyond the characterization of these three men, there are some superb action scenes that seem to come out of nowhere. A particular interrogation scene with Bud White really stands out in my mind. The violence, when it hits, hits hard. And that's surprising in this beautiful city. This movie deserves plenty more words.

Revolutionary Road

What drives people to this? What personal failures, hidden jealousies, and questioned motives lead people to live like this? What has to happen for two lovers to go out and try to hurt each other? Revolutionary Road deconstructs the "married life" during the 1950's and deconstruct is more of a euphemism. It dissects, unravels, and implodes a marriage. There are two scenes in the film that are so powerful it was nightmarish and heartbreaking to watch. More credit should have been given to Leonardo DiCaprio, who embodies a performance of seething frustration. We sense his awareness of his wife's refusal to be happy about anything, and the impotence he feels after even trying to please her at all. This impotence explodes a few times and the result is a helpless young child on the screen who cannot figure out why he is no longer loved. What a tragedy this story is; I don't know if I'll ever be able to forget April and Frank and their acute abilities to turn the knife. What drives people to this? What good is love if it leads to this?