Edge of Darkness

Mel Gibson ends his 8 year hiatus from the big screen with “Edge of Darkness”, a power packed, and somewhat odd, revenge thriller. Mel plays a Boston (which is becoming almost a cliché backdrop for modern cop movies) police detective whose daughter is murdered and he goes almost immediately into “I will stop at nothing to find my daughter‘s killers.” mode, and does his best Terminator impersonation in his quest to find the who and why. With the help of Ray Winstone, as a cooler-than-ice freelance counter-terrorism, ahem, “consultant“, he finds all of those responsible. And by “all of those responsible” I mean all. of. them. Literally. And, to them, they are not nice. Not since The Departed has a cop movie so thoroughly cleaned up its messes. The villains are sketched with a weird, tender finesse and as diabolical containers of absolute evil. In the end, the movie is a bit juvenile in it’s handing out of black and white hats, but I’ll take it.

While it starts out as a fairly standard cop-going-off-the-reservation revenge thriller, the story meanders into interesting places. I much appreciate the effort here to think a little and put a creative spin on the plot, when more often than not in this genre, the plotting feels neglected in favor of performances, directing, etc. And probably the best part are the thrills. There are more leap-out-of-your seat moments than, I imagine, any given horror movie currently at the cineplex.

Mel’s quirky, uncoiling-ferocity acting style has a tendency to feel like a constant overreaction to whatever is taking place around him, and become its own entity separate from the movie…like “Hey, look how mad I can get?” or “Look how sad I can be!” He restrains just enough here, and his style is almost perfectly in tune with the intensity level of the overall tone. The big guy has aged quickly since we last saw him in 2002‘s “Signs“, but a 4-year Colonial-Kurtz-style excursion as a bearded weirdo in the jungles of Mexico will do that.

Bottom line: This is a fun, highly entertaining and somewhat affecting flick.

See it: Worthy of a theatre viewing

4/5 stars

And the award goes to...

More nominees, more hosts, more schmaltz!

In 2010, we will see the first major change in the Academy Awards structure in… who knows how long… since the ‘30s? (Well… they did add a Best Animated Feature category in 1999, which was a rather major addition) The Best Picture category has been expanded to 10 nominees. While that allows the Academy to acknowledge 5 more movies than usual, it does nothing to change the race, as the 5 added have no chance of winning anyway (Up, A Serious Man, District 9, Precious, The Blind Side). It will be very interesting to see if Avatar wins Best Pic. Avatar's story is universally denounced as hot stinky garbage, and it would be awarded strictly for its ambitious technical scope and visuals. But there is already a category for that. It would be a shame and a new low for the Academy to award Avatar Best Pic, especially when a movie with actual, excellent writing and real and brave performances, like “An Education” or “The Hurt Locker” is sitting right there on the bench! But Cameron and his Universal Over-Ego won’t let that happen. He’s saved all of the costumes from his previous movies in a giant warehouse and, as I type this, he is suiting up a cattle-call of out of work actors to take to the streets of LaLaLand and systematically scare and intimidate voters. Be wary, voters, if Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio knocks on your door during dinner hour. Don’t let her in, because you never know who’s in there.

Despite the battle brewing for Best Picture, my gaze is fixed squarely on the Best Actor category. Jeff Bridges is as royal as Hollywood Royalty comes. He has the respect, the epitome, the family pedigree, he’s had lead turns in a slew of indies as well as blockbusters, including arguably one of the biggest cult classics of all time (resulting in elite cache with the entirety of Gen X and Y males). He’s been the President, an alien, a psychiatrist, a mad genius villian, a twisted psychopath … he even has the side music career, the rare one which foments curiosity rather than the expected groans and snickering (see: Dog Star). But, not as of yet, the awards. In “Crazy Heart”, he gives an incredibly consuming, unique, thoughtful and downright badass performance. I see this performance and think “My God, is there anything this man can‘t do???” It’s time to step up, Academy voters, and bestow upon “The Dude” the statue he so keenly deserves! And voters: if you are still suffering the after effects of the home breach perpetrated by Lord Cameron and his legion of costumed minions, fear not, as you can quietly help the Academy recover some face here by voting for Mr. Bridges.

I’m out, people… and wait… is that… I think I see Robert Patrick sprinting down the middle of Wilshire Boulevard!

2010 Oscar Predictions

Best Picture: The Hurt Locker
Best Actor: Jeff Bridges
Best Actress: Sandra Bullock
Best Supporting Actor: Christoph Waltz
Best Supporting Actress: Mo’Nique

Crazy Heart

(Review by Jeff Boehm)

"The Redemption Tale" is one of the oldest stories around -- there is the attractive but old, tortured former artist/actor/musician/athlete who falls from glory, loses family and self-respect, gets some sort of addiction, is inspired by a woman (usually a sexy, hard-working single mom) to face up to his mistakes, atone for them, kick said addiction and return to past glory. There are no real surprises in the story of redemption told in Crazy Heart. Still, thanks to some outstanding performances -- including impressive supporting turns by Colin Farrell and Robert Duvall (the very king of Redemption stories!), spot-on original music, and interesting photography, there is enough there to keep us pulling for our hero to come back from the brink.

Jeff Bridges is arguably at his best when he plays a character a little (or a lot) left of center, "The Dude", for instance. Here, he is pitch-perfect as down-on-his-luck country singer, Bad Blake. The sure-handed Bridges plays Blake with the appropriate mix of charm and smarm. His scruffy voice, and even scruffier hygiene, makes Bad seem older than his 57 years. An actor this in tune with his craft is the writer/director's best friend; when Bad runs off the 'stage' of a bowling alley, vomits in a garbage can out back, reaches down to pick up his now vomit-covered sunglasses, puts them on and ambles back to the stage, where he sits and mumbles the last line of his hit song before leaving the stage for good, Bridges authentically does more to show the viewer what this man has become than any number of long expository speeches could.

Despite his dirty and tired facade, at moments throughout the film, Bridges reveals glimpses of Blake's long-dormant talent and heart. Insert Woman to bring out the former Blake! Maggie Gyllenhal is in her wheelhouse here (as opposed to being -- unbelievably -- the woman all men lust after in The Dark Knight) as a small-town, single mom reporter who falls for the aging musician. Again, no surprises here as she tries to penetrate the alcohol-powered force field constructed around Bad's soul, but the stick-to-the-formula-ness of the movie didn't really bother me; despite a couple minor contrivances in the script, the rest of the production kept me along for the ride. The cinematography is a brilliant contrast of the dank, dirty and cramped life of Bad Blake with the open and natural beauty of the West. It makes you want to both take a shower and pack up the car for a ride down Route 66. And the songs are really top notch; the music itself becomes a character central to the plot and indeed central to our understanding of the other characters -- it's no surprise to me that Bridges turned down the project until they came back to him with the original music and songs that would be used in the film.

In a nutshell: If The Wrestler and Tender Mercies had a baby, and the baby can craft a tune like T Bone Burnett, it would be this movie.

See it: If you can find it at the local Indie cinema, otherwise get your hands on the DVD when it comes out.

4.5/ 5 stars

--
Jeff Boehm - www.jeffboehm.com
IMDb - www.imdb.com/name/nm2993084/

Youth In Revolt

(aka: Wits Quirkington: The Paulie Bleeker Story)



If Michael Cera were an actual commodity, “Youth In Revolt” would be his vanity piece. It plays out as a Cera showcase, as if he were a showman of Charlie Chaplin-like revere. And if this were true, he’s parading attributes such as: An extremely high-pitched and meek voice, the lankified stick-body of a pre-teen swedish boy and a penchant for extreme self-doubt. “Youth In Revolt” feels and acts like a less-assured version of Rushmore. It has a few hearty laughs, most of which are viewable in the trailer. The movie is filled with disappointing cameos, including Fred Willard, who is given absolutely nothing to do in a small role as a hippie neighbor. (Ok, he writhes around on a living room floor in a mushroom-fueled trip-out in one scene... big deal!) We are also treated to appearances by M. Emmet Walsh, (better known as the diving coach in “Back To School”) who has to be pushing 100 and Ray Liotta, who is simply cranky as the cop who is boning Cera's mom. The lone standout is Justin Long, as Michael Cera’s love-interest’s drugged-out brother. Replete with awkward moments and mark-missing gags, Cera spends WAY too much time prancing about shirtless, in his tighty-whiteys or just flat-out naked, like the class clown who’s seen Borat one too many times. He spends the entire plot, in classic 80s RomCom fashion, digging and twisting himself deeper and deeper into legal trouble through sociopathic behavior all in an effort to win the heart of his dream girl. Just when you think he is completely screwed, and will spend the next 5-7 years behind bars, his love interest explicitly reminds us that he is a minor and will spend at most 3 months in Juvie. Phew! Luckily, my sources tell me that “Youth In Revolt” only made $14 mil, most likely putting it in the top 5% of 2010 box office bombs. So hopefully this is a one off, and Cera can retire to his spot on the fringe of Apatowdom.

In A Nutshell: If Fight Club and Rushmore had a baby, and that baby went straight to video, that would be this movie.

Watch it: On a flight from Newark to Dallas-Ft.Worth

1/5 stars

The Blind Side

I contemplated seeing Invictus, but realized that it will likely contain a lengthy, climactic scene involving a rugby match. I know nothing about rugby. 99.9% of Americans know nothing about rugby and this will likely cause confusion and chaos among moviegoers. I tried brushing up on the rules of rugby earlier today, to no avail, as I am still flummoxed by this pad-less, white-football kicking of a game. Why do they all lock arms in a giant crab-like mass, only to let the ball squeak out the back end like a gerbil turd? How much is a field goal? Is this an early 90s Abercrombie ad? It was simply too much to consider. Further research revealed that “invictus” isn’t even a real word. Well, that did it. I decided to stick with the more familiar “American football” movie (or as the rest of the world refers to it -“Soccer”… I think. Or is it the other way around?). No matter, Sandra Bullock tear-jerker hear I come.

This film is extremely long, and Bullock has the annoying habit of including her son’s name (“Michael”) in as many sentences as she possibly can. If you are sitting next to someone, or looking them in the eye, there is a good chance they know you are talking to them without having to hear their name appended to each sentence. The bouncy soundtrack gives us plenty of cues, especially on when to laugh. The movie is structured in service of the performances of the two main characters, but neither brings enough gravitas to their respective roles, so the movie kind of just breezes on by when nothing is “happening”, but stops and starts a lot along the way to make sure things do. That being said, this is still the best thing Sandra Bullock has ever done. It feels as though she has been killing time since “Speed“, waiting on the years to weather her face and gait, and that day is finally here as we see her slip easily into the role of a level-headed matriarch. It hits all the feel-good sports-movie cues in expectedly flat and predictable ways, with more than a dash of southern, down-home cutesiness to color the overall proceedings.

Does Sandra Bullock get Oscar-buzz points for having a smoke-creased mug? (also, I think her naked-window has officially closed… the only thing that 45-year-old tuches can arouse these days are the pens of “sag”-award voters…bing!) Tim McGraw is a rich country music star with a hot-ass wife, why did he agree to play the male equivalent of the Jennifer Connelly (put-upon wife) role? I think we all prefer the washed-up, angry drunk Tim McGraw we saw in Friday Night Lights. Maybe he doesn’t want to get typecast. It appears the time has come to seek counsel from the king of country-singer-to-actor crossover success, Mr. Dwight Yoakum.

On "The Plus Side", there were no vampires and no Opus-Dei-driven plot twists, which these days bumps your grade up an entire half star.

In a nutshell: If The Rookie and The Green Mile had a baby, and that baby was addicted to Xanax, it would be this movie.

See it: On Starz while hungover some breezy Sunday afternoon.

2/5 stars