2012: The Year In Film

2012 was a stupendous year for cinema from my perspective.  There were certainly some abysmal lows, but for the most part, the highs were higher and the overall crop of releases was more varied and interesting than in recent years.  For a private citizen who pays for his own tickets and has to fit seeing these films into a schedule already overflowing with work and family obligations, I'm rather proud of all I've managed to see theatrically or otherwise this year.  I'm even more proud of how I steadfastly adhered to documenting that odyssey in this blog.  Looking back through all these posts, I'm singularly struck by how much childlike whimsy and wonder I recaptured at the movies this year.  It's spiritually reassuring to me that 35 years into my life, I am still genuinely in love with cinema and naively open to the intellectual and emotional revelations that await when the lights go down.

I'd prefer to dispense with the negativity and bemusement off the top, so let's begin this recap by discussing the worst and most underrated films of the year in my eyes.  Silent House and Silent Hill: Revelation 3D shared not only a word in their titles, but the distinction of being representative of the absolute worst the horror genre has to offer.  The Amazing Spider-man existed merely to resuscitate Sony's copyright on the character and to impart irresponsible moral lessons to our children.  Snow White And The Huntsman was about as dull and hollow as a movie could possibly be and the cynical, assembly line blockbuster production template belched forth Battleship, which smelled exactly as we all imagined it would.

But no film rankled me more this year (or indeed in recent memory) than Rian Johnson's Looper.  I saw this with my good friend Danno from The Wayne Gale Variety Hour Podcast, and despite our sincerest efforts to see it through, we relented about 80 minutes in and walked out.  I'll admit the pre-release orgy of ecstatic prostration before this film from the online film collective predisposed me to cast a more critical eye toward it.  But nothing can change the fact that I legitimately found Looper to be a shallow, derivative film with an ugly aesthetic populated by the least interesting and most unlikable characters imaginable.  This film fooled the bulk of the critical community into thinking it had some really profound stuff to say about fate and responsibility, when all it did was graft cloying, predictable tropes onto the narrative structure of Timecop.  It's flat, boring and has a goddamn telekinetic kid in it, what more do I need to say?

The vitriol that critics should have expended on Looper was instead directed toward Wrath of the Titans and Resident Evil: Retribution, both of which I found to be boisterous, silly romps.   I'll never understand why people are so hell-bent on tearing down dumb, fun monster movies aimed at 9 year old's and those who retain a sense of being 9 years old at heart.  Wrath and RE5 were incredible audio-visual experiences in IMAX 3D and scratched an itch I perpetually harbor for loud, eye candy entertainment.  Chernobyl Diaries was no horror masterpiece (we'll get to that shortly), but I felt it was a creepy, under-the-radar diversion that benefited from a wonderfully atmospheric location and low expectations.  Even though Dark Shadows suffers from slapdash storytelling and a diffuse approach to narrative, I found it to be irresistibly entertaining.  Depp turns in customarily compelling work and the production design is beyond reproach.

On to the top 10, presented in ascending order.  These films were chosen and ordered based upon a criteria of how transcendent the theatrical experience, technical merits, the level they engaged my head and heart and how re-watchable they've proven to be or I expect them to be in the coming years.  It's a convoluted arithmetic whose solution is likely subject to change, but what qualitative assessment of multiple pieces of art isn't?  Click the title of the film to redirect to my initial review.

10. UNDERWORLD: AWAKENING  There were few films I had more fun with theatrically in 2012 than this lean, mean, 80 minute monster mash.  It got to the point quicker and got the job done with more style and panache than any other pure genre effort this year and the merits of its technical presentation are sterling.  Sporting a vapid, beautiful cast anchored by Stephen Rea and Charles Dance slumming in supporting roles, Underworld Awakening made for a joyous time at the movies.  It also did the unthinkable by inspiring me to revisit and reappraise the original entries in the series, of which my opinion has changed for the favorable, no doubt thanks to goodwill engendered by this installment.  

9. JACK REACHER
This film came out of left field late in the year and wowed me with its old school approach.  The textbook example of how to do an action thriller, Jack Reacher breathed much needed life into the procedural and gave Tom Cruise his mojo back after a year of embarrassing personal setbacks.  Like Underworld, it's not exactly a timeless treatise on the complexity of human nature, but damn if it didn't utterly transport me into its world for the 2 hour runtime.  Engaging, solid film making infinitely elevated by Cruise's dedicated star power.

8. CABIN IN THE WOODS
At this late stage in the game, there isn't an awful lot left to say about Cabin in the Woods, surely the most discussed and debated horror film in years.  While quite funny and aggressively clever at every turn, it's more important to note how bleak it truly is in regards to not only the horror genre, but the human race itself.  As someone who has made ferreting out and championing the inherent cultural subtext of horror films his life's work, CITW serves as the period at the end of a century long sentence.  A delightfully entertaining romp that reverently celebrates the genre as it nails the coffin lid shut on it.

7. LIFE OF PI
It's a rare thing to see jaw dropping 3-D visual effects augmenting a tear-jerking spiritual journey, but Ang Lee specializes in consistently delivering the unexpected.  I saw this film on Thanksgiving day with my family and can think of no more beautiful a scenario to take in its touching message about the fragile majesty of life on this planet.  Life of Pi is the kind of film that can convince you of the existence of a soul and that all life has meaning.  

6. THE DARK KNIGHT RISES 
It was supremely unfortunate to watch my most anticipated movie of the year become a maligned and downright reviled critical whipping boy seemingly overnight.  The harrowing midnight screening shooting in Aurora forever tainted the film before its opening day and film fans spent the rest of the year mercilessly picking apart every perceived plot inconsistency.  Nolan's Bat trilogy is a symbolic rendering of the decade long nightmare America had been mired in post 9/11.  It makes sense to me that dream logic would be employed and that things would always seem slightly askew, especially when you look at how the first two entries played out.  It's an ambitious film with great performances, especially from Bale who consistently proves he's the finest actor of his generation and from Tom Hardy who made Banea villain for the ages.   It's a troubled film for troubling times and more successful in what it sets out to do than most will admit.

5. THE MASTER
The Master is less an expose of Scientology than a hilarious dissection of how base the male impulses and ego are, regardless of how purportedly evolved the male.  It's about drifting through life, both in a geographical and internal sense.  Navigating a stormy existence where no port is truly safe and no harbor is everlasting.  It's the story of two men who are drawn to each others strengths and weaknesses precisely because they're the opposite ones they already possess, and how little they ultimately are able to learn from one another, no matter the struggle to do so.  The Master is about a hell of a lot of things and still manages to be extremely funny, wildly entertaining and gorgeously shot.  Hoffman and Phoenix each turn in career defining work, with the latter delivering the best performance of this young decade.

4. KILLING THEM SOFTLY
Andrew Dominik burst back onto the scene after a 5 year absence (much like Paul Thomas Anderson) to bring us this enraged polemic about the lies we as a Country tell ourselves to help us sleep at night.  It's not subtle, but it means what it says and it has a damn good point to make about the trumped up ruse our political and judicial systems really are.  It has colorful characters galore and a seamy setting suffocated by gangland squalor that accurately represents the fiscal realities lurking beneath our credit card fantasy.  This film just worked for me on every conceivable level and it's a shame it didn't find its audience.  50 years from now, when people want to know where we were at as a Country toward the end of the Bush Administration, they need but to watch The Dark Knight and Killing Them Softly. 

3. THE HOBBIT
I was expecting to consider this film a chore, begrudgingly sat through out of a fading obligation to Peter Jackson.  Instead I was utterly transported to Middle Earth with my faith in Jackson restored and reinvigorated.  I honestly would rate this film my favorite of the series for reasons I detailed in my review.  Suffice to say, it is a grand adventure with an involving story underneath it.  It features incredible special effects, excellent performances and that transcendent Howard Shore score.  It's simply marvelous film making from a true master of the medium.

2. PROMETHEUS
I think most were disappointed by Prometheus because they were expecting something different.  Perhaps they weren't prepared to engage with a film that so playfully blended the profound with the preposterous.  In any case, I found this dazzling mixture of spiritual exploration and cheesy sci-fi to be one of the more impressive cinematic experiences I've ever had.  Be it in IMAX3D or bluray at home, the tangible world created by the monumental sets and faultless CGI absolutely mesmerized me. 

 There's so many fascinating philosophical elements at play that I can entirely forgive the concessions it makes to be entertaining.  Hell, I applaud them!   No film this year came nearly as close to building so fully realized a world for their characters to inhabit and that went a log way toward suspending my disbelief.  The isolation, fear and wonder were palpable, as was the emotional center, brilliantly held by Noomi Rapace.  Prometheus made me question again where humanity came from and wish for us as a species to renew our dedication to exploring the stars.  It did all that while functioning expertly as a thrilling outer space monster movie.  Truly the best of all worlds.

1. CLOUD ATLAS
Cloud Atlas devastated me on an emotional and artistic level.  It made me want to search out the beauty in humanity as opposed to the ugliness.  It made me want to try to understand different points of view and be more welcoming of opposing beliefs.  It wears its heart on its sleeve and is absolutely earnest when extolling its altruistic message of peace, love and understanding.  It also is a revolutionary step forward in how the medium of film can tell a story.  The manner in which the multiple, interconnected stories are presented is so radical, yet so effortlessly involving.  I was on board from the first few minutes and sort of wish all movies could function in this capacity.  I'd never be bored again, that's for sure.  

Cloud Atlas is a staggeringly important film to cinema for the audacious leap forward it represents and to mankind for the quality of what it has to say.  Of all films released this year that were overlooked or misunderstood, Cloud Atlas will appreciate in acolytes the most.  It's a beautiful, perfect film that had the misfortune of being ahead of its time.  Future generations will look back on it as the best we had to offer.  Not just as a piece of art, but as an exuberant effort to embrace love over hatred and freedom for all over enslavement of the underrepresented.   

 I had a blast this year at the movies and even more fun ruminating on the experience in this blog.  Thanks to all my readership for your comments and support.  I look forward to getting going on 2013 next week!

Django Unchained

The law of diminishing returns has caught up to Quentin Tarantino with a vengeance on Django Unchained, a sloppy, irresponsible and unarguably pointless film.  The reason Inglorious Basterds worked so well was because it smartly never juxtaposed holocaust imagery with its pulpy, history-rewriting tale.  To see the atrocities and mindset of slavery so gleefully paired with a simple minded revenge story drowning in ridiculous, balloon-sized squibs is jarring and a bit offensive at first before settling into interminable routine and ultimately becoming numbing and dull.

Nobody has told Tarantino no since Pulp Fiction, and while that artistic freedom has admittedly inspired the genius of Kill Bill Volume 1 and Inglorious Basterds, it has also ushered forth the excruciatingly drawn out, self-indulgent tedium that is Kill Bill Volume 2 and Death Proof.  Django Unchained falls into the latter category while also serving as a distressing sign of Tarantino's inability to grow as a film maker or grow up as a human being.

Django is at least 45 minutes too long with unnecessary asides shoehorned in to facilitate cameos from actors Tarantino likes.  It was kind of funny to see Lee Horsely and Ted Neely in there, but they had no characters or point.  It's frustrating to watch a potentially good film get bogged down because the director wants to play with his genre toys above telling a story.  He's not resurrecting careers anymore as in Pulp Fiction or Jackie Brown, all Django's leads are bona-fide stars.  The casting in Django is pure gimmick, a showy stunt to prove his movie-nerd credibility.  I'd think 20 years into his career, he'd have satisfied this juvenile urge by now.  But that's the problem with Tarantino, isn't it?  He's little more than a jittery, over-excited assemblage of juvenile urges, and for a dude mere months away from turning 50, it's a less than charming personality trait.

I'm the guy who has tirelessly lavished praise on Human Centipede 2, so don't take me for some prude.  I just feel that Tarantino missed a major opportunity here to comment mightily on and dish out a sobering reminder of a sore spot in American history.  Unfortunately he couldn't help himself from entertaining his most salacious and controversial impulses instead of focusing on story and characters.  He didn't even bother developing the characters into real people.  Django's backstory amounts to a 30 second flashback and his wife Broomhilda has naught to do but smile prettily or sob pitifully.

Everyone else in the film is playing their one dimensional roles as one-note schtick.  Especially Waltz, who is charming of course, but King Schulze is little more than a toothless, sanitized version of his Jew Hunter from Inglorious.  Dicaprio and Jackson are fantastic though and a much better film could have been fashioned from maturely exploring the implications of their character's relationship.  Instead we get the same old bloody revenge saga we're familiar with, an easy film to make and one that's sure to please a crowd. 

I still think Tarantino has more great films in him.  He's an innately talented film maker and peerless as a scriptwriter when his florid prose is imbued with purpose.  Inglorious Basterds was a huge step forward for him, so I'm pained by Django's two steps back.  Inglorious exemplified masterful directorial control and pristine storytelling while Django is a lazy wallow in overly familiar territory, essentially Tarantino in an old-west outhouse drunk on the smell of his own farts. 

The final moments of Django Unchained are a perfect parable for Tarantino's calcified artistic sensibilities.  Django leading his horse in a prolonged strut, a display of superfluous showboating.  Defiantly proud grandstanding for a heinous act of violence that proved nothing save for the fact that the abused can become as vicious and ugly as their abusers.

The Wayne Gale Variety Hour Episode 5: 90's Music Part 2

I hope you all are having a safe and happy holidays with your family today.  As my and Danno's gift to you all, we present you with Part 2 of our epic 90's music retrospective which began HERE.  This episode is nearly 3 hours and positively overflowing with music.  I want to thank my good friend Danno for doing all the work to edit together the music and for being the primary reason this show is a reality and not just something we talk about doing and never actually accomplish.  Doing this podcast has been a marvelous addition to my life this year and I look forward to continuing it in 2013.  Thanks for listening, we'll see you with a look back on the year that was 2012 shortly after the New Year.

The Hobbit And Jack Reacher

I recently wrote up Jackson's LOTR series ahead of The Hobbit's release and concluded by expressing my tempered excitement to return to Middle Earth despite the moderately negative critical reaction surrounding the film.  I knew I'd likely be more appreciative than most, but I never would have dreamed I'd be as taken with it as I am.  I would easily put it on par with my favorite of the franchise (Fellowship) and perhaps rate it even higher.  I hit upon why I love it so much in a recent conversation with my Wayne Gale Variety Hour co-host Danno.  Everything I didn't like about the LOTR trilogy is absent from The Hobbit.  Chiefly, there's no Liv Tyler or the sappy, boring romance that came with her character, but the improvements extend across the board in my humble opinion.

Richard Armitage is fantastic as Thorin Oakenshield.  He's a vastly more inspiring lead than Aragorn was in my eyes.  He exudes true charisma and clarity of purpose as opposed to the smelly, self-loathing fumes of Viggo's grunge-style moping.  Thorin embraces his lineage and has no doubts as to his mission in life.  His voice is also much easier on the ears.  Thorin's inflections are deep, sonorous and authoritative where Aragorn's were pinched, nasal and whiny.  The song the dwarves sang around Bilbo's fire before embarking on their quest was liquid gravitas.  I wanted to walk into that scene and begin living in the movie after that point.

Martin Freeman is perfect as the audience surrogate.  Not at all off-putting like Wood's Frodo or grating like Astin's Samwise.  He's likable and easy to relate to, both in his doubts and the manner in which he gives in to the adventure.  His presence in the film is always just enough and never too much.  He doesn't bog the proceedings down with his internal struggles and fears.  We get enough to understand how we would feel in the situation without it ever getting oppressive in the fashion Frodo's blithering, blood drenched dementia was.  It helps that The Hobbit is a smaller story and the fate of the films entire world doesn't rest upon it.  That's not to say there aren't wonderful lessons and lovely morals throughout, it just doesn't feel like your being bludgeoned by them as you watch.

I've read some critics remark that Jackson seems tired and disengaged from the material.  That's pure insanity because The Hobbit contains some of his most inspired work, both in terms of fantastical action set-pieces and beautiful, small-scale character interaction.  There's a flashback sequence where an elder dwarf relates the tale of how Thorin got his surname from his deeds in a past battle that is maybe the most impressive thing Jackson has ever put to film.  My breath was taken away by the visuals in The Hobbit more times than I can count.

The effects are outstanding, light years beyond what was achievable in the original trilogy.  Unlike what some are saying, I felt Jackson used this advancement in technology only to make the world more lived in and thrilling.  It never felt like a detriment to the story, only a tool to enhance it.  Middle Earth feels older in The Hobbit than it did in LOTR, which makes chronological sense, but is a refreshing relief nonetheless.  Look how Lucas idiotically utilized burgeoning tech in the Star Wars prequels, then marvel at Jackson's restraint and fidelity to source material.

The Hobbit has a clearer objective than LOTR, one that's easier to become enthralled by.  The nemeses and the manner of defeating them much more cinematically understandable than a metaphor cast into lava to destroy a symbol.  Gollum is magnificent and his scene perhaps the best we've ever seen him in, but my favorite antagonist is Azog the Defiler, an all CGI character impeccably designed and brilliantly realized.  There's so much in this movie that is just plain cool, I can't fathom how anyone could not be thoroughly entertained by it.  The Hobbit is a masterful adventure film that I was swept up in from the first frame to the last.  I can not wait to see where the story goes and to spend more time with these characters. 

To keep this love train on the tracks, let's move on to Jack Reacher.  I knew nothing of this character or the series of books concerning his adventures before seeing this movie, but I would gladly sit through an adaptation of every one of them now (providing Cruise and writer/director McQuarrie are involved of course).  Jack Reacher is a taught, pulpy conspiracy thriller centering on a beyond-bad-ass lead who faces off against a cabal of delightfully evil villains.  There's hard hitting, practical action scenes galore, a clever story and enough classic tough guy lines to fill up a quote book.  It helps that Cruise is 100% believable as said tough guy, because I can think of very few actors today that could pull this role off.  I don't care if the dude is a 5 foot 6 inch movie star, I am fully convinced he could beat the ever loving shit out of me and most anyone I know.

Werner Herzog and Jai Courtney are tremendous as the bad guys and Rosamund Pike turns in an able supporting performance, but this is Cruise's show all the way.  He does his own driving and it benefits the realism immeasurably.  I was frankly astonished at the Rockford-style shitties he was whipping in that souped up muscle car.  The film doesn't have a lot of subtext going on, but I will give it credit for how it handles the unfortunately timed sniper massacre element that kicks off its story.  The opening is a breathless, dialogue-free suspense sequence that manages to thrillingly pull you into the story despite how sickening its content.  I respect the grave, somber tone with which this horrific incident is portrayed and the human face the film seems dedicated to putting on the victims.

There's nothing special about Jack Reacher on the surface, yet I find it notably significant that at 2 hours and 10 minutes, I was always totally engaged.  I had as much fun watching this as any other film this year and wanted a sequel the second the credits began scrolling.  In this superhero franchise age we live in, recognizably human action like this is a rarity.  That's too bad because it felt wonderful to watch a movie willing to give its audience room to breathe.  It was a welcome treat to enjoy well choreographed and clearly shot fight scenes and to have my pulse quickened by an adrenaline fueled car chase made all the more enjoyable because it was comprehensible.  Jack Reacher is a damn fine movie that treats its audience like adults.  Maybe I'm as old fashioned as this film, but if it proves successful enough to green-light a follow up, I'll be first in line.

Frankenweenie, Paranorman, The Raven And Ted

Thanks to Netflix and Amazon's illustrious streaming services, I was able to take in Paranorman, The Raven and Ted this past weekend.  While none of these films made much of an impact on me (in all honesty I dozed off for about 10 minutes of Paranorman), I feel compelled to adhere to my previously stated goal of documenting my impression of all 2012 releases I witness.  On top of that, I just now realized I totally blanked on writing up Frankenweenie when I saw it this Fall.  So, with all the unbridled enthusiasm typically reserved for dotting an i or crossing a t, let us get this tepid quadrilogy on the books.

I had heard good things about Frankenweenie from most critics.  I personally thought Dark Shadows was a lot of fun and continue to argue that Sweeney Todd is a borderline masterpiece, so I don't fall into the camp of modern day Tim Burton detractors.  I'll admit his kiddie movies could most generously be described as horseshit, but give him an adult tone and ample budget to work with and he can still produce magic.  Unfortunately, Frankenweenie is a slight, pointless tale too reverent of the past to appeal to youngsters and too slipshod in its storytelling to matter to mature audiences.  It doesn't commit to its purported moral lesson and it isn't funny, so apart from begrudgingly respecting the tremendous amount of work that clearly went into the animation, there's no reason to recommend this film to anyone.  I have always detested the look of claymation crap like this, so that didn't help matters much.

Which brings me to Paranorman, a film with a similar look, but infinitely more successful when it comes to using stop motion as a delivery system for its lesson laden narrative and comic relief.  There were things I caught myself laughing aloud at during the film.  More often than not it was John Goodman's grotesque character, but there is a slew of clever asides sprinkled throughout.  It is colorful and creepy and the ending packs a surprisingly emotional wallop (Jodelle Ferland's typecasting shackles apparently extend to animated features as well as live action).  It's just that the lesson is for 7 year olds and I'm a grown up man with a son who is even too old for the film.  It's well constructed and its intentions are commendable, it's just nothing I need to ever see again. A final note on these two films: What the hell is up with claymation dudes and their obscene proportional perspective of the female rear end?  Tone it down you perverts, these flicks are supposed to be for kids. 

The Raven is a terrible film.  It suffers from atrocious editing that renders much of the proceedings indecipherable.  It's also anchored by a career ending performance from John Cusack in which he portrays Poe as the most obnoxious asshole who ever donned a cloak.  The thing is though, I kind of loved it.  It is schlock of the highest order.  It moves quickly, without thought, rarely considering the baffling twists and turns it takes.  Its central mystery is a total non-starter, its protagonist a grating dickhead who won't stop screaming.  Yet I must sheepishly admit to being enchanted by its moody milieu, grim aesthetic palette and morose mindset.  There are some admittedly clever bon mots bandied back and forth, all in the service of a plot whose mechanics are sub-moronic at best.  What can I say?  I like Gothic, melodramatic cheese like this.  It hits the sweet spot for me.  Apart from my ironic endorsement, I must genuinely sing the praises of Luke Evans work in The Raven and in general.  The camera loves him and he has very natural, casual charisma that translates excellently onscreen.  If you want a serious Poe film, check out the Stuart Gordon helmed Masters of Horror entry, The Black Cat starring Jeffrey Combs, who fully inhabits the role.  If you want forgettable entertainment to enjoyably ridicule, seek out The Raven. 

Ted is fine.  Like Frankenweenie, it also wimps out on the dramatic lesson it deigns to impart. Unlike Frankenweenie, it mostly earns its sentimental moments, so that's something of a minor miracle.  I like McFarlane's cartoon shows a great deal and this is exceedingly reminiscent of them.  The rapid-fire pop culture riffing works better in the animated format however.  Outside the loving exaltation of the 1980 Flash Gordon film, most of the references feel forced and fall flat.  There's some laughs here and there and the chemistry between Mcfarlane's Ted and Wahlberg is tangible, no doubt buoyed by some impressive and subtle CGI work on the titular bear.  It just isn't anything special.  Nowhere near as raunchy as it thinks it is and with only as many laughs as a decent Family Guy episode, it simply didn't impress me  The film only truly came to life during the extended Sam Jones cameo section.  Flash Gordon and its Queen soundtrack were a huge part of my adolescence, so I gleefully appreciated being catered to.  Ultimately though, Ted is middling, obvious humor aimed at the easily pleased Hangover demographic.  It doesn't surprise me it performed so muscularly at the box office.  That's all well and good, but I'll reserve my side splitting guffaws for the anti-humor of Tim and Eric, or just some plain, good old fashioned Frank Drebin. 

As the year comes to a close and I endeavor to write up all that I see theatrically, these 2012 flicks I didn't catch on the big screen will continue streaming in through Netflix and other avenues.  I will do my best to find a middle ground between being thorough and getting my year end retrospective completed in a timely fashion.  By which I mean before February.  Hopefully.  It's been enlightening to keep track of an entire year of current releases.  I've often talked about doing this, but have never matched my effort to my designs until 2012, so thanks much for reading!

The Wayne Gale Variety Hour Episode 4: 90's Music (Part One)

In this installment of The Wayne Gale Variety Hour (which can be located HERE), Danno and I get in-depth on 90's music that had a profound impact on us.  Music never means more to you than when you're in your tumultuous teen years.  So, as you can imagine, we had plenty to say about the bands we came of age with during a fortunately-for-us fantastic decade for music. This is the first of a two part run on the subject and we discuss some great bands and play our choice cuts from them.  As usual, this was immensely fun to record and I hope that comes through in the listening.  Enjoy!

Reappraisal Corner: The Lord Of The Rings Trilogy

I'm going to give the crowds a week or two to die down before venturing out to my beloved Great Clips Imax at the MN Zoo to see the Hobbit.  In the meantime, I felt it would be fitting to revisit Jackson's original trilogy and see where my thoughts and feelings toward it stand nearly 10 years since it theatrically concluded.  Sure, I've watched bits and pieces of the individual movies over the years, but until last week, I hadn't made a concerted effort to ingest all three films chronologically.  It was also a great opportunity to show them to my son in advance of The Hobbit, as he had never watched them start to finish in order.

My awareness and appreciation of Peter Jackson dates all the way back to 1989, when I first read about his debut feature Bad Taste in the pages of Fangoria magazine.  I sought it out at the local mom and pop video store and was instantaneously hooked.  It had the kinetic verve and audacious gore of early Sam Raimi, but filtered through a charming Kiwi sensibility.  I eagerly devoured Dead Alive and Meet The Feebles as they became available stateside and my admiration of his work grew exponentially through the years.  I was one of the few who saw The Frighteners theatrically and recall walking out of the theater 100% assured it would be a monster hit, finally catapulting Jackson to the upper echelon of film makers.  Alas, it was not to be.  That was still 5 years away.  No, it wasn't until the release of The Fellowship of the Ring that the masses would at last be made aware of Jackson's brilliance.  Fellowship forcefully confirmed what I and other horror fans had known for over a decade: the dude has serious chops.

I went into Fellowship knowing nothing of the Lord of the Rings (I still have never bothered to read the books), only showing up because it was the new film from Peter Jackson.  It vastly exceeded my already high expectations.  Attaching Jackson's attention to aesthetic detail and intuitively involving camerawork to such a solid thematic and narrative foundation produced what is easily one of the most transporting series of films of all time.  When people talk about world building in regards to the cinematic art form, look no further then LOTR for the definitive example of how it's done.  I fell hard for Fellowship.  I can think of few films that so perfectly blend action, humor, drama, beauty and ugliness in such meticulously measured proportion.  There's just nothing wrong with the film on any level, apart from some dated, wonky effects that honestly only add to its charm.

Then, a strange thing happened.  With the release of each new installment, I found myself growing less and less interested in the series.  It became a matter of diminishing returns.  Perhaps I'd had enough of the world after Fellowship, having never been much of a fantasy fan.  Or maybe I lost the thread of the story once so much involved mythology was brought to the forefront without thorough explanation.  In any case, I can pinpoint the precise moment I began to lose faith in the films.  It was in Two Towers after Gandalf reappears as the White Wizard in the forest to Gimli, Aragorn and Legolas (take that spell check!).  They come into a clearing and Gandalf whistles to summon his horse.  A beautiful white stallion appears from a distance and languidly gallops up as the music swells and all the characters look on in reverent amazement.  It's a grating, indulgent moment that does nothing for the story.  Sure, Fellowship had similar scenes, but as the films went on, they began to buckle under the weight of such self important asides.  Of course there's still a million magical things in Two Towers and Return of the King, but in my mind, the damage had been done and the veil had been lifted.

After re-watching the films, I find my original opinion largely unchanged.  I still find Fellowship to be the best and the other two to be relatively tiresome with intermittent blasts of inspired film making and action packed lunacy.  I believe Fellowship works best as a film because it has tangible, threatening antagonists our heroes must overcome.  Between Saruman, The Balrog and the rampaging Uruk-Hai, we have a strong sense of who the villains are and the measures that must be taken to defeat them.  As the series progresses, it abandons such traditional notions for its nemeses and instead focuses on the deleterious effects of the one Ring on the soul of mankind.  While fascinatingly heady for a blockbuster to dwell on the precarious bonds between men and existential spiritual turmoil, it's not particularly compelling from a cinematic perspective.  Don't get me wrong, Jackson works wonders using perspective tricks to make the one ring a real character and to illustrate the insidious reach of Sauron.  But at the end of the day, it's a frigging ring and a stationary flaming eye on top of a tower.  Seeing these two unknowable entities destroyed can inherently never be as thrilling as watching Aragorn face off with and ultimately behead an imposing Uruk-Hai warrior.

To me, that is the defining moment of the trilogy.  Maybe it's just my deeply rooted love of monsters talking, but for my money, the series never topped that final fight in Fellowship.  The moment when Aragorn jumps in to save Boromir from the killing blow and does battle with that foul beast has undeniable immediacy and stakes.  The shot of the monster, relieved of one of his arms and run through by Aragorn's sword, pulling the blade through his stomach while snarling and gnashing, brutally and succinctly sums up the the threat faced by all of Middle Earth.  It's maybe my favorite shot in all of Jackson's filmography.  A pure, uncluttered presentation of the battle between good and evil.  There are certainly more breathtaking spectacles to behold throughout the films.  The marvelously staged and executed battle for Helms Deep and the absolutely insane ollyphant sequence during the siege on Minas Tirith come to mind in terms of showstoppers.  But the technology overwhelms the meaning and none of it feels as real or terrifying as that one-on-one showdown alone in the woods.

Truthfully though, there's just so much to love about these films that I can forgive the fact they probably would have worked better as an HBO miniseries.  So many exceptional performances to note.   Of course Ian McKellan is gravitas incarnate as Gandalf, but Bernard Hill deserves special mention for his portrayal of King Theoden of Rohan.  He manages to put a much needed human face on the proceedings after things get implausibly fantastical.  I also feel compelled to give Orlando Bloom a shout out for his positively unearthly work as Legolas.  The dude gets a lot of crap for being a pretty boy lightweight, but there's no denying how unimaginably badass he makes that elf seem. Cate Blanchett is a remarkable presence as well, the films could have benefited from more of her Galadriel. Andy Serkhis obviously created a character for the ages with Gollum, working in concert with Weta digital to overcome the stigma Jar-Jar had attached to mo-cap performance and provide the film with unexpected pathos.  On the negative side, Liv Tyler is an utter joke and every time she appears on screen is pure death.

Howard Shore's score is a once in a lifetime event where the music fits the films world so well as to be downright eerie.  The themes that run through these movies are burned into our collective cultural brain forever.  Not simply because they're catchy or repetitive, they legitimately seem to have sprung from some ancient communal memory of a world we knew in a past life.  The effects range from astonishing to eye rolling, but all can be appreciated for the ingenuity and craftsmanship involved in their creation.  I distinctly love the old school touches like miniatures, models and using tall and/or child stand-ins to achieve the Hobbit height difference.

These films are legendary, and rightly so.  Even if some aspects work better for me than others and some don't work at all, they're still grand fun to watch and get lost in.  They have heart and high adventure spilling out from every frame.  Being able to stretch out viewings over several nights at home makes the daunting task of consuming them all the more palatable.  Peter Jackson's LOTR films are a pop culture miracle and generational touchstone whose impact and influence will be prominent for decades to come.  I look forward to seeing The Hobbit, regardless of the middling reviews.  I can't wait to journey back to middle earth, visit some old friends and hopefully make some new ones. 

Chopper and Bronson

After recently catching Killing Them Softly, I developed a strong urge to revisit Andrew Dominik's first film, the Australian criminal biopic Chopper.  This in turn inspired me to also pop in Nicholas Winding Refn's psycho prisoner opus Bronson and pair the two for a write-up. Not only are these films similar in the sense that they're artful examinations of volatile outlaw personalities, they both served as the calling cards for their directors and lead actors.  Bana and Hardy have both gone on to critical acclaim and financial success in superhero franchise films (Hulk and The Dark Knight Rises respectively).  Dominik and Refn have proceeded to each make 2 truly great films since these earlier cinematic achievements, with Dominik's The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford in particular being a bona-fide masterpiece.  My goal here is to celebrate two fantastic films and hopefully inspire the segment of my readership who haven't yet seen them to rectify that oversight. 

I don't remember where exactly I first heard of Chopper.  It was the early aughts and I had no clue about the Internet, so I must have read about it in some film magazine or perhaps newspaper review.  In any case, I sought it out at my local video store and was absolutely bowled over by its stylish confidence and sizzling intensity.  I had been unimpressed by the many imitators to the Scorsese/Tarantino crime throne over the years (cough-Danny Boyle-cough), so Chopper was a refreshing blast of stale, smoky air.  It felt unique and genuine, an utterly Australian tale, mysterious by dint of its shrouded (to me anyway) history and mythology.  Some have complained that the film doesn't make enough concessions to non-native viewers, but I loved being swept away into such a foreign, bizarre world.  Dominik takes for granted the viewer will get the gist of the many region specific moments of dialect, custom and verbiage and I suspect he's right.  I for one am grateful he didn't sacrifice any of the momentum to spell things out for an American audience.  

The film making is intoxicating in its playfulness.  A scene being sped up to hilariously approximate a late-night, coked up conversation and a recounting of criminal activity rendered in the fashion of a children's nursery rhyme are but two examples of the inventiveness on display throughout.  The sickly color scheme permeating the proceedings brilliantly highlights the sordid circles its characters run in.  Eric Bana delivers a performance so gargantuan it threatens to burst from the screen and throttle you on the sofa.  Reenacting  Mark "Chopper" Read's real life actions and refracting them through the lens of his considerable neuroses makes this larger than life character a charismatic hero, lovable oaf, pitiable wretch and terrifying monster all at once.  It's a dark, paranoid film, full of upsetting violence and despicable behavior.  But the likable performances, witty script and breathless pace lighten the mood, making for a supremely enjoyable viewing experience.  For the hardened cinephile, of course.

Bronson, while containing some of the same surface DNA of Chopper, is an entirely different animal.  It's more Avant Garde and less cohesive, an experimental exercise in obtuse depravity.  In stark contrast to Dominik's assured handling of the Mark "Chopper" Read story and psychology, Refn instead chooses to dive into the deep end of Michael "Charlie Bronson" Peterson's vicious insanity without bothering to teach his audience to swim first.  It's a high-wire-act film that wanders off the wire quite a bit, but breathlessly captivates when it chooses to maintain balance.  One never grasps a narrative through line or indeed even a point during Bronson.  One simply lets the colors, craziness, fluid camerawork and pulsating score wash over them.  I prefer the more mature and focused presentation of Valhalla Rising and Drive over this film, but it's sort of hypnotizing to watch Refn keep burning himself as he plays with this out-of-control-fire of a film. 

One thing that's not out of control however, is Tom Hardy's once in a lifetime performance.  Possessing the sheer magnetism of a black hole, he keeps drawing you in closer and closer despite the inherently repulsive reality of his characters actions and predicament.  His bizarre mannerisms and tics make every scene an unpredictable performance art piece.  His intimidating physical presence is acutely felt throughout.  I'm always impressed by actors who transform their physique to suit a specific role and Hardy should be commended for so convincingly approximating the musculature of an inmate subjected to years of solitary confinement.  The work he does with his voice is every bit as compelling and lyrical as what he accomplished with Bane, but certainly more explosive in its aggression.  It's the sort of performance that walks right up to the edge, but never tumbles over into mere caricature.  While comically bewildering and endlessly entertaining, it comes from an honest place and fearlessly confronts the inexplicable horror of his real world counterpart.

While I would rate Chopper as the more successful film overall, it's almost negligent to contemplate one without the other.  They beautifully complement one another and function together as two sides of one diseased mind.  These are very confrontational, often unpleasant films, but they also disarm with charm and charisma.  They invite you in with smiles and braying laughter, then pummel you unconscious the moment the lights go out.  In that sense, these films are perfectly representative of their subjects.  Infinitely amusing and fascinating to consider at a safe distance, but you wouldn't want to be inside with them when the door slams shut. 

Profondo Cinema Is On Blogspot!

I just wanted to let everyone know that my good friends Profondo Cinema have migrated to Blogspot and their entire back catalog can be found HERE!  It's a fantastic podcast put on by two great friends of mine and I can't recommend it highly enough.  I'm on a handful of episodes speaking about a myriad of topics.  I always have a great time on the show and can't wait to be on again to discuss some more Burton Leon Reynolds, effectively sounding the "Burt Alert".  If you love George Romero, classic action and horror schlock, highbrow cinema, technical specifications and good old fashioned friendship based rambling, look no further than Profondo Cinema, the best in the business!

The Wayne Gale Variety Hour Episode 3: Posh And End Transmission

In this episode, Danno and I are joined by my old friend the Nels to discuss our two bands, Posh and End Transmission.  This is really inside baseball sort of stuff, detailing the glory days of two bands no one outside of our circle of friends has ever heard of.  There is laughter, stories and audio snippets galore.  Please be gentle in your assessment, we were just a bunch of crazy kids living the rock and roll dream.  Enjoy!

Killing Them Softly

Andrew Dominik grabbed my attention quite forcefully with Chopper over a decade ago.  I was fairly obsessed with that film for a good long while and forced more than a few friends to sit through it.  Raucous, violent, upsetting and rather funny all at once, it heralded the emergence of a serious talent.  Then, 7 long years elapsed until his follow-up.  The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford is an undeniable masterpiece, a stately epic detailing the psychologically sickening rise of hero worship in American pop culture.  Now we have been graced with his third feature, A cynical slap in the face to the very notion of the American dream.  Killing Them Softly serves as a malevolent refutation of our Country's political process, justice system and elected officials.

I've read a lot around the web and in print reviews about how this film is "too on the nose".  While I agree its intentions in regard to subtext are indisputably clear, I personally find the absence of coy subterfuge to be refreshing.  The single-minded purposefulness of the narrative gives the film great immediacy and presence.  Cloud Atlas and Life of Pi utilized a similarly up front approach, but where those films were proudly clothed in earnest humanism, Killing Them Softly deals in acidic political commentary.  It is trenchant in its outrage and disgust, but always honestly and with a point.

Setting the sordid tale in a post-Katrina New Orleans, seemingly abandoned by any law or government, is an excellent choice that mercilessly highlights the insalubrious state of our infrastructure.  Dominik's criminal microcosm of the 2008 financial meltdown is a blatant reflection of America as he sees it.  A corrupt land populated by naught but hit-men and whores, destitute addicts and doomed fall guys.  The machinations of its citizenry are petty, violent and pointless.  An endless succession of murderous consumption, motivated by greed and aimlessness.  The central conceit of the film seems to be that the civilized manner we as a country facilitate changes of power and mete out justice is merely a callous sham.  A convenient cover story to make our society's predatory, capitalist nature more palatable. 

Disheartening subject material to be sure, but Dominik digs into it with such gleeful abandon and experimental recklessness, it's hard not to have a grand time while contemplating it.  The film is alarmingly off kilter from its discordant opening credits to its shockingly blunt final lines of dialogue.  There's a great deal of innovation and imagination employed in the presentation of the film, which goes a long way toward making the admittedly familiar tale feel fresh.  It's also surprisingly intimate, giving us uncomfortable insight to the miserable and malicious lives its pitiable characters lead.

There isn't a bad (or indeed even mediocre) performance in the film, but Gandolfini and Pitt deserve special mention for what they bring to their roles.  Gandolfini is an abrasive surrogate for the modern Republican party, or perhaps simply for America itself.  A lurching behemoth drunk on past glory and incapable of moving forward.  He's a crass, despicable, self loathing monster.  He's got plenty he's angry about and no shortage of fingers to point for his innumerable woes.  The ultimate blockade to getting anything done, he plays marvelously off Pitt, especially when he snaps at him for being called out on his inefficacy. 

Pitt is essentially Obama.  The younger, handsomer, hungrier model of leader.  The up and comer who has a way of using comforting language to convince others to make choices that benefit him.  He has a plan to make the machine run in a smoother fashion, but absolutely no intention of revolutionizing the machine.  It's a tremendously charismatic performance and perfectly suited to his role.  Pitt continues to find fascinating ways of trading on his stardom to get unique films made and produce great work.  Yeah, we're cheering for him and in awe of how great he looks with that pompadour in that bitching leather jacket.  But then he drops that final speech on Richard Jenkins  and it becomes painfully clear who and what you've been supporting the whole film.

Killing Them Softly is a tremendous addition to the Andrew Dominik filmography.  Three great films in 12 years time works for me.  He's like Kubrick or P. T. Anderson in that his releases are events.  Something cinephiles in the know eagerly anticipate and joyfully relish.  I highly doubt it will be remembered come Awards season considering the equal opportunity skewering it gives both sides of the political aisle and hopeless attitude it has toward the possibility of change or redemption.  Maybe that's why I'm still smiling when I think on it though.  It's so brazen and fearless and sure of what it wants to say, I can't help but find that remarkably commendable.  Sometimes, a slap in the face is exactly what you need.

Life of Pi And Brave

                                                           
I've never been head over heels in love with Pixar like most.  For the life of me, I can't understand the legions of grown men who worship at the altar of these kiddie films.  Extremely well constructed and exquisitely animated kiddie films of course, but kiddie films nonetheless.  I suppose someone who unashamedly adores juvenile, brain dead action films like Fast Five or idiotic big budget monster romps like Wrath of the Titans shouldn't throw stones from his glass house.  In any case, I entertain no illusions about what appeals to me and why.  I usually enjoy the Pixar films well enough upon first viewing.  Yet outside of the occasional re-watch with my son (who at 11 has outgrown most of them), I've never felt compelled to revisit the likes of Wall-E or Finding Nemo.  I do think the Toy Story films are fantastic (especially the third), but I'm not exactly learning life lessons or looking at the world in a different light after watching them.  Their thematic range is inherently limited due to who they are designed to appeal to.  That us adults aren't pulling out our hair whilst enduring them is commendable, but not necessarily cause for ceaseless celebration.

Which brings me to Brave.  I wouldn't say I was pulling my hair out while watching this on VOD, but it's certainly an insipid melange of boiler plate storytelling and aggressively unfunny physical comedy.  The character arcs are predictable and unearned, the climax rushed and perfunctory.  The animation is striking and top notch I've been told, yet to me looked repetitively samey in terms of backgrounds and irritatingly bulbous in the character design.  I just can not abide that grotesque mockery of proportion modern animation is bewilderingly compelled to pass off as the human form.  Not to belabor the point, but I did not care for this film whatsoever.  It did nothing for me on any level and I'm mentioning it here merely to conform to my goal of documenting my impressions of all 2012 films I see.  Now, I will never deign to consider it again.

Life of Pi, on the other hand, was a profoundly moving experience I will treasure forever.  I hope to revisit it theatrically before its run ends and will certainly think fondly of it for the rest of my days.  I've always enjoyed what I've seen from Ang Lee.  Hell, I'm even a wary cheerleader for his deeply strange and singularly beautiful Hulk film.  Unlike Hulk, Life of Pi, suffers from nary a narrative drawback.  It's perfectly put together, with its introductory first third every bit as captivating and engrossing as its flashier, more dramatic shipwrecked-at-sea segments.  Lee builds the character of Pi meticulously, expertly navigating the tricky conceit of casting no less than three different actors to portray him throughout his life.  Thanks to the masterful direction and uniformly excellent performances, all 3 incarnations are likable and easy to relate to.  I was absolutely swept away by the story of this intensely spiritual young man.

I don't dwell on plot points or spoilers in my reviews, preferring to let my general impressions do the talking.  I implore any and all of my readers on the fence about this film, please give it a chance.  I felt much the same way about this I did with Cloud Atlas, and similarly, it would break my heart to imagine true film lovers missing this on the big screen.  The 3-D in Life of Pi is revelatory.   It sucks you wholly into its world, making you feel the isolation and the wonder of Pi on his journey.  The sound design is magnificent as well.  Even though I saw it in a theater I've been to many times, I was sure they had turned on previously unused speakers, so startling was the range and finesse of the sound field.  The visual palette is pure poetry, every scene melting dreamily into the next.  Lee uses some of the transitional experimentation's he toyed with in Hulk to much greater effect here.  It's remarkable to watch a genius director using state of the art technology and a sizable budget in the service of such a worthy story.  This is precisely what the goal of motion picture art should be.

There's so many sequences in this film that I will never forget.  The bone rattling intensity of the horrifying storms.   The relationship building with Richard Parker, a beautifully and believably realized Bengal tiger.  But the moment that had the strongest impact on me had nothing to do with 3-D, CGI or the brand spanking new Dolby Atmos sound experience.  There is a scene when the action cuts back to the fully grown Pi (brilliantly portrayed by Irrfan Khan) narrating a particularly powerful moment in his story to a journalist.  As he speaks, he openly weeps.  There is no shame in this for him.  No wiping away of the tears or averting of his eyes.  He is at peace with himself and fully able to express his feelings in the presence of another man, let alone a human.  Growing up in Western society with our ridiculously stringent interpretations of masculinity, I was moved to my core by this notion.

Life of Pi is a deluge of emotion, laughter and beauty.  It opened my eyes to the detrimental damage done by years of nihilistic cynicism and emotional constipation.  I'm not saying I'm ready to join 3 religions or change my diet or attempt any such forced transformation.  Just that I was given a welcome reminder to embrace the beauty of life and the world a little more freely and try to express my feelings more openly.  It's a gorgeous film, full of heart and magic.