Halloween (1978)

Halloween (1978): Bump. Bub-ump. Bump. Bub-ump. This is the reason why the original Halloween is so scary. All it takes is those two dreadful notes. The music is absolutely terrifying. One of the filmmakers said if you watch the film on mute, it’s quite tame. It’s when the music comes on, that you feel those worst fears coming true. This film is awfully effective, simply because there’s no shame or winks. Michael Myers moves like Jaws; completely amoral, without need for words or reasoning or conscience. He is a horrendous force of nature. One of the best sequences is when Laurie Strode yells for Tommy Doyle (that name is so suburban, its funny) to come unlock the front door. Across the street, we see the house that Michael Myers is somewhere inside of. Cut back to Laurie. Cut back to the house, and we see Michael slowly (slowly is the key) emerge from the shadows. He’s still coming. Laurie starts to panic and yells once again for Tommy. Cut back to Michael, who’s now approaching the street. So incredibly simple, and yet so bold and terrifying in its directness. I attached the trailer, for an example of the music’s effectiveness.

Funny People (2009)

I have to say that this was a disappointment, and that it, too, deserves another viewing. For a few reasons, but the main one is because I saw the movie in an empty theater. It’s hard to laugh out loud like you want to at the cinema when it’s a quiet (and cold!!!) empty room. The echo of your own laughs makes you feel lonely.

But Judd Apatow’s third feature leaves its most serious subject to go on an hour long subplot that is frustrating in its intentions and quite worthless. The first hour, however, is quite good, and on par with Apatow’s best. Who else can talk about death and penises? But what’s frustrating is that George Simmon’s near-death experience is only that. A spoiled asshole of a man comes close to death, and that’s about it. There’s no catharsis in that situation, no feelings of redemption or hope. Only a man who almost dies, remains an asshole, and never thanks anyone for his luck or resolution. He is a dick to Ira (Shmyra) and then tries to steal his old flame back from a much nicer man. Everyone in the Apatow universe has a problem, but George won’t admit of his problems. He’s just not very likeable. But I don’t think that this movie is bad. It has grand aspirations, and it’s smart, well-written, and (this is key), funny. But compared to Knocked up (2007), which I still think is a masterpiece, this movie doesn’t hold up.

I resort back, quite often, to the rule of thumb from Matt Stone and Trey Parker. They believe, and I do too, that their best episodes of South Park came when they focused specifically on one idea. When they started combining storylines into a twenty minute episode, the plots felt too sparse and rushed. Apatow should consider this, because I think he has two movies piled into this one. The stand-up idea is quite good, and possesses much more material that didn’t make it into this movie. I could tell that Apatow cut a lot out so that he could fit in the other stories into this mess of a movie. There seems to be about three plots going on, and this one ain’t Pulp Fiction.


But But But. THe first sequence of this movie is stunning. Putting this in the movie was quite brilliant of Apatow, but the movie never again seems to reach the high notes of four guys just making jokes in an apartment room.

G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra (2009)

Can’t say too much about this one, except that I only watched forty minutes. I won’t say that I left because of disgust, but just because I felt that I didn’t have the time to sit and risk not enjoying the movie. The only thing that I noticed was that Channing Tatum did not seem like a very good actor, and that I had to pee really bad. I hope one day I can sit down and try and figure out if the movie was worth the awesome weekend that it had. For the record, I love director Stephen Sommers; The Mummy and Van Helsing will always be at the very top of my geek chart.

By the way, this movie and Transformers have really sparked some debates about where the movies are going, and more importantly, where audience expectations are going. I am stuck in the middle of the debate. While I value movies with actual stories and action scenes with some motivation and inspiration, I think that most people still go to the movies to escape the burdens of real life. And if people want to see stuff blowed up, or see Sienna Miller in brown hair, let them go. Detach yourself from the machine, and move on past it. I did find myself somewhat depressed listen to everyone laugh at the jokes within G.I. Joe. Their laughs felt contrived, as if they understood the formula of the blockbuster. Put in lots of action scenes, but in between these scenes, give them comic relief so they can feel part of the awesomeness. But the laughs I head in that theater were weirdly timed. A joke would arrive, and it wouldn’t be that funny. But seconds later, the audience picked up on the cue, and laughed. Hard. I don’t know how to respond to that, except that it turned me off.

Also, Channing Tatum (who still can’t act) reminds me of a beefed up Ben Foster. They should have put him in the fucking movie.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (2009)

Quite astonishing in its design and attention to detail. David Yates, like Christopher Columbus, really makes an effort to put in as many references from the original books as he can, and open up J.K. Rowling’s universe. Obviously, the film must progress differently than the book, but Yates still makes an effort to place secondary characters in the background as much as possible. Seeing Professor Flitwick, Crabbe, Fenrir Greyback (although his purpose barely ascended past growling and looking like a pro wrestler) and Luna Lovegood sprinkle the overall feel of the story is wonderful; you can tell that the people working on this project approach it with a certain sense of respect and love.

It’s frustrating then, that this movie has been met with disdain by followers of the books simply because a fight scene was excluded. The books were never about the fights; there’s only so much you can do with two people waving wands at each other. This problem was somewhat noticeable in the climax of The Order of the Phoenix. While Voldemort and Dumbledore proved rather climactic, the fight scene before theirs came off a bit awkward. Many people have been upset with the amount of teen-romance taking place. This is also a bit frustrating, because these are the characters we love and care about. We shouldn’t have to insist on them being in fight scenes and Quidditch matches every half hour. The drama between Harry, Ron, and Herminone occasionally has some very poignant moments, like when Harry slips a placebo into Ron’s drink, or when Harry lets Hermione’s head rest on his shoulder. Or how about Harry mackin’ on a Muggle at the very beginning of the film? It’s easy to forget that these wizards and werewolves technically coexist with our boring universe. It’s these moments when I realize that I grew up with these characters, and that I deeply care about them. The first movies are so incredible because we’re so jealous of their incredible luck to be a part of this astounding world. These quiet and human moments in the later films prove that the problems of the Wizard world often have a peculiar relation to our own problems.

And their problems motivate the excitement of the action sequences, and this film has one of the best of the series. The moment in the cavernous lake is dazzling and epic in scope. We see Dumbledore, for the first time, reduced to an (gasp!) old, whimpering man. What a inversion of roles, as Harry now must literally nurse Dumbie back to safety. But it is the arrival of the Inferi out of the black depths that stir the macabre beauty of Dumbledore’s trap. This scene deliciously reminded me of Gandalf’s battle with the Balrog in his freefall within the mines of Moria. There is a breathtaking shot of Harry being pulled down into the dark waters by the Inferi, where the camera observes the awesomeness of Dumbledore’s power. I’m very excited and glad that Yates is with the last two films to the end. To that lonely march towards Hogwarts.

A Slow Weekend

Sometimes I worry that I like too many movies.

I understand the basic maxim, which states that no one ever sets out to make a bad movie. And sometimes I go on streaks where every movie works for me. Transformers 2 worked for me. Will I ever see it again? I don't know. Probably not, unless I'm drunk. Does that mean I didn't enjoy the 800 explosions? I did. I laughed. I laughed at the people clapping. That's fine with me. I knew what my free screening was getting me into. It certainly wasn't going to be Babel: Part Deux.


But this weekend, I don't know what was going on, every movie I watched just didn't hit the mark for me. One of the most important things I've ever learned from a film scholar was from Jim Emerson, who said that all you need to do during a movie is consistently ask, "How is the movie making me feel right. now." And in doing that, in consistenly setting off that mental and emotional alert, I have been able to quickly investigate why or why not a movie is hitting the bar.


And this weekend, not many cut it. I tend to put review/rants on here for movies that I adore. Not the case here:


Eagle Eye (2008)- This is the second time I tried to slosh through this one. For whatever reason, the consistent action puts me to sleep every time. I don't like Michelle Monaghan's character, she seems completely unnecessary. The film references are the only thing that really keeps me awake. In fact, this may be an important movie strictly because it forces modern audiences to reconsider the value of the shots that last longer than 1.2 seconds. A breathless snoozer. The Salton Sea (2002) is a much more interesting Caruso movie.

The Beach (2000)- Who'da thunk this was directed by Danny Boyle? The only evidence would be the meandering and way-too-serious voice over and the disjointed video game hallucinatory scene. This movie is really interesting strictly because it changes tones about 20 times. And I couldn't help but really dislike Leonardo Dicaprio's character, Richard. Not because of the acting; no, the character is an asshole. Totally unempathetic. He just sort of wanders around, does really bad things, and then voices over and expects us to feel sorry for him. Or in awe of his coming-of-age adventure.


The Incredible Hulk (2008)- Second posting on this one, just wanted to say that everytime the movie sets up an action sequence, the action is utterly disappointing. Watch the Humvee piece on the college campus, and then watch the tank sequence in Hulk (2003), which is infinitely better. Ang Lee's Hulk, while more incandescent and glow-lightish, possesses a weightlessness. that doesn't stick with Ed Norton's. While it didn't work with many moviegoers, I am sort of spellbound when I watch Hulk leap through the air, almost flying. This Hulk just sort of runs into things and grits his teeth really hard. Although, it is still really cool when he pulls apart the police car and uses each half as a boxing glove. It's a shame that's the only cool thing he does.


Halloween (2007)- Maybe the biggest disappointment of the weekend. I turned this on with an excited anticipation; I appreciate Zombie's seriousness towards the horror genre. He has a distinct look for his movies. And I love the original Halloween. But this one does not work. At all. And it's an interesting predicament. Why doesn't it work? Well, they spend way too much time on the back story of Michael Myers, which has two detrimental effects. The first is that the killing escapade is compacted into about 35 minutes. No build-up. Just knives and facades of suburban houses. Also, there's about 7 minutes of exposition towards Laurie Strode, who I cared for less than Jon and Kate. The other problem? Michael is not a sympathetic character. What is the point of showing his backstory? To identify evil incarnate? Isn't evil more scary when it's unexplained? This Michael seems too human, too Freudian. The most astonishing sequence in the original is the opening sequence, but the very end. With the iconic theme clinging, all Carpenter shows is the front of houses. It is this moment when we confirm that Michael can be anywhere. That he will never have to run. He is a supernatural presence. He is at your door, or my door. He is the thing that bumps in the night. Not a little boy who wasn't loved the right way. I will be interested to see where Zombie goes with the second one.


Lakeview Terrace (2009)- This was the only movie that had me somewhat intrigued. In fact, I liked the tension of this movie. Until it got a little too ridiculous. The end doesn't work very well, but the characters are believable, and the situation is credible. It's a shame the wife really pissed me off, but then again, I am more than likely a chauvinist.


We'll see about next weekend, I guess.

RB

Oh, thought Mrs. Bentley. And then, as though an ancient phonograph record had been set hissing under a steel needle, she remembered a conversation she had once had with Mr. Bentley- Mr. Bentley, so prim, a pink carnation in his whisk-broomed lapel, saying, "My dear, you never will understand time, will you? You're always trying to be the things you were, instead of the person you are tonight. Why do you save those ticket stubs and theater programs? They'll only hurt you later. Throw them away, my dear."


But Mrs. Bentley had stubbornly kept them.

"It won't work," Mr. Bentley continued, sipping his tea. "No matter how hard you try to be what you once were, you can only be what you are here and now. Time hypnotizes. When you're nine, you think you've always been nine years old and will always be. When you're thirty, it seems you've always been balanced there on that bright rim of middle life. And then when you turn seventy, you are always and forever seventy. You're in the present, you're trapped in a young now or an old now, but there is no other now to be seen."

-"Season of Disbelief" by Ray Bradbury.




You ever meet those people who talk about the past as if it's something tangible? They fret over every little detail, musing over what was, but more dangerously, what could have been. The past is their present, and the days slip by.

Bad

I heard this in a movie. It overpowered the scene. People always talk about how The Edge's guitar has a unique sound. Well, it's absolutely stunning in this song. So is the drumbeat.

I'm not even a fan of U2, but this is making me reconsider. Something about it connects. How we feel about people who live self-destructive lives. How heartbreaking sympathy can be. How hopeless.

In one version, he says the song is about a friend addicted to heroin. And how he would do anything he could to save him. And himself, to walk away and forget. How we long for communication. Human beings thrive on it. But how it eats us. How we punish ourselves for the sake of others. Only the good can be bad.



"He trampled himself, to extinguish himself"- D.H.L.