Monday, June 15, 2009
The dead will rise again.
Breaking news... After being out of print for a few years now, Hide and Creep will return to DVD! And soon, maybe as soon as September. Chuck and I just signed a deal with a new distributor. More info as it is available...
Sunday, June 14, 2009
One sequel, one remake.
Given the convoluted timeline of the Terminator movies, I'm not sure if Terminator Salvation is a sequel or a prequel. I'm also not sure if "prequel" is even a real word. And why doesn't Terminator Salvation have a number and a colon in the title?
Oh. I just looked it up. According to dictionary.com, "prequel" is a real word, coined in the 1970s. One mystery solved.
In the past few years, I've noticed an increased obsession with backstory in popular movies. It's like, if we aren't told every last detail about the characters, we won't be able to relate to them or understand them. Never mind that The Dark Knight made tons of money, despite the fact that the Joker just shows up out of nowhere in that movie and starts wreaking havoc.
So it's no surprise that Terminator Salvation explains some of the backstory for characters that we've seen in previous Terminator movies, like John Connor and Kyle Reese. But the movie opens with a chunk of backstory for a new character, "Marcus," which I guess would be okay, except that it kind of gives away a big plot twist involving Marcus. The screenplay has some problems, and I'm not sure if all the problems are solvable, but lopping off the first five pages would be a good start.
Make that five and a half pages. After the unnecessary opening, we get one of those text crawls that explains more backstory, but it's redundant as the same information is revealed later the old-fashioned way. You know, through action and dialog.
The action tends to be better than the dialog. And there's too much dialog during the action. Somebody yells "hang on" in the middle of a crazy car chase. Really? Dude, if the passengers hadn't been hanging on for the duration of the chase, they wouldn't be in the car at this point.
The dialog also serves as an obvious reminder that this is the fourth Terminator movie. Callbacks to lines from previous movies wouldn't bug me so much if they didn't seem shoehorned in. When a character answers a question with "I'll be back," Stacey and I laughed out loud. That's laughing at the movie, not with it. Then, in the next scene, we hear "You Could Be Mine" (the Guns 'n Roses song from Terminator 2: Judgement Day) playing from a jam box.
At that point, I almost expected Linda Hamilton to show up and ask the Kyle character, "Hey, remember in that first Terminator movie where Arnold Schwarzenegger chased us around?"
Speaking of Arnie, he makes a cameo of sorts in one of the movie's cooler scenes. Yeah, I've been complaining for the majority of this review, but Terminator Salvation does have some cool bits. There's also a helicopter crash filmed from inside the copter--still haven't quite figured out how the filmmakers pulled off that one.
And the movie looks and sounds terrific. The cinematography, effects, and sound design are top-notch, even if they're not quite up to Star Trek standards. And there are some excellent practical effects courtesy of the late, great Stan Winston. From a craft standpoint, the summer was off to a shaky start with Wolverine, but that's looking to be the exception and not the rule. So far. Hope I didn't just jinx it.
I realize that this review isn't exactly focused. In my defense, neither is Terminator Salvation. Director McG (insert wow-that-is-a-stupid-name joke here) does a pretty good job managing the big chaotic action scenes, but the quieter parts seem tossed off. I noticed accents slipping in and out, actors who look like they're thinking about lunch plans instead of the scene at hand, flat line readings--stuff you shouldn't let slide when you're making a movie about what it means to be human.
I've never seen the original version of The Taking Of Pelham 123, but I enjoyed the heck out of Tony Scott's remake that hit theaters Friday. The story, like Die Hard, is of the "dude with a problem" variety. Denzel Washington plays an average joe transit authority worker who ends up as a hostage negotiator when some bad guys, led by John Travolta's "Ryder," hijack a New York City subway car and its passengers.
Watching Pelham, I was reminded why Washington is a movie star. He has charisma to spare, even when playing a slightly pudgy (prosthetic gut, or did he put on some weight, DeNiro-style?) everyman. Actually his character isn't quite an everyman (the part was written for a movie star, not a character actor), but I don't want to ruin the details of that reveal, which is one of the movie's many nice surprises.
Another surprise--this is a big summer movie that spends the majority of its running time in everyday locations (transit authority office, subway car) without a lot of action. The hostage situation creates plenty of tension, as does the over-the-radio sparring between Washington's and Travolta's characters. The action we do get tends to be of the fast and ugly variety, as, in the tradition of my favorite Sidney Lumet movies, nothing much goes according to plan for anybody, no matter which side of the law they're on.
Tony Scott is no Sidney Lumet--sometimes he seems to forget he's making a feature film and slips into over-the-top-music-video-director mode. But the solid cast (I haven't mentioned John Turturro yet--nice to see him in a big movie not directed by Michael Bay) and clever screenplay keep the movie grounded, regardless of any directorial indiscretions.
The Taking Of Pelham 123 ain't high art, but it is highly entertaining--a fine way to spend a summer afternoon at the multiplex.
Oh. I just looked it up. According to dictionary.com, "prequel" is a real word, coined in the 1970s. One mystery solved.
In the past few years, I've noticed an increased obsession with backstory in popular movies. It's like, if we aren't told every last detail about the characters, we won't be able to relate to them or understand them. Never mind that The Dark Knight made tons of money, despite the fact that the Joker just shows up out of nowhere in that movie and starts wreaking havoc.
So it's no surprise that Terminator Salvation explains some of the backstory for characters that we've seen in previous Terminator movies, like John Connor and Kyle Reese. But the movie opens with a chunk of backstory for a new character, "Marcus," which I guess would be okay, except that it kind of gives away a big plot twist involving Marcus. The screenplay has some problems, and I'm not sure if all the problems are solvable, but lopping off the first five pages would be a good start.
Make that five and a half pages. After the unnecessary opening, we get one of those text crawls that explains more backstory, but it's redundant as the same information is revealed later the old-fashioned way. You know, through action and dialog.
The action tends to be better than the dialog. And there's too much dialog during the action. Somebody yells "hang on" in the middle of a crazy car chase. Really? Dude, if the passengers hadn't been hanging on for the duration of the chase, they wouldn't be in the car at this point.
The dialog also serves as an obvious reminder that this is the fourth Terminator movie. Callbacks to lines from previous movies wouldn't bug me so much if they didn't seem shoehorned in. When a character answers a question with "I'll be back," Stacey and I laughed out loud. That's laughing at the movie, not with it. Then, in the next scene, we hear "You Could Be Mine" (the Guns 'n Roses song from Terminator 2: Judgement Day) playing from a jam box.
At that point, I almost expected Linda Hamilton to show up and ask the Kyle character, "Hey, remember in that first Terminator movie where Arnold Schwarzenegger chased us around?"
Speaking of Arnie, he makes a cameo of sorts in one of the movie's cooler scenes. Yeah, I've been complaining for the majority of this review, but Terminator Salvation does have some cool bits. There's also a helicopter crash filmed from inside the copter--still haven't quite figured out how the filmmakers pulled off that one.
And the movie looks and sounds terrific. The cinematography, effects, and sound design are top-notch, even if they're not quite up to Star Trek standards. And there are some excellent practical effects courtesy of the late, great Stan Winston. From a craft standpoint, the summer was off to a shaky start with Wolverine, but that's looking to be the exception and not the rule. So far. Hope I didn't just jinx it.
I realize that this review isn't exactly focused. In my defense, neither is Terminator Salvation. Director McG (insert wow-that-is-a-stupid-name joke here) does a pretty good job managing the big chaotic action scenes, but the quieter parts seem tossed off. I noticed accents slipping in and out, actors who look like they're thinking about lunch plans instead of the scene at hand, flat line readings--stuff you shouldn't let slide when you're making a movie about what it means to be human.
I've never seen the original version of The Taking Of Pelham 123, but I enjoyed the heck out of Tony Scott's remake that hit theaters Friday. The story, like Die Hard, is of the "dude with a problem" variety. Denzel Washington plays an average joe transit authority worker who ends up as a hostage negotiator when some bad guys, led by John Travolta's "Ryder," hijack a New York City subway car and its passengers.
Watching Pelham, I was reminded why Washington is a movie star. He has charisma to spare, even when playing a slightly pudgy (prosthetic gut, or did he put on some weight, DeNiro-style?) everyman. Actually his character isn't quite an everyman (the part was written for a movie star, not a character actor), but I don't want to ruin the details of that reveal, which is one of the movie's many nice surprises.
Another surprise--this is a big summer movie that spends the majority of its running time in everyday locations (transit authority office, subway car) without a lot of action. The hostage situation creates plenty of tension, as does the over-the-radio sparring between Washington's and Travolta's characters. The action we do get tends to be of the fast and ugly variety, as, in the tradition of my favorite Sidney Lumet movies, nothing much goes according to plan for anybody, no matter which side of the law they're on.
Tony Scott is no Sidney Lumet--sometimes he seems to forget he's making a feature film and slips into over-the-top-music-video-director mode. But the solid cast (I haven't mentioned John Turturro yet--nice to see him in a big movie not directed by Michael Bay) and clever screenplay keep the movie grounded, regardless of any directorial indiscretions.
The Taking Of Pelham 123 ain't high art, but it is highly entertaining--a fine way to spend a summer afternoon at the multiplex.
Monday, June 8, 2009
The lost hangover.
Land Of the Lost starts promisingly enough. An astronaut runs through a swamp. He's scared, trying to raise someone on his radio. He's supposed to be on Earth, but the three moons glowing in the night sky tell us he's not. He realizes he's being followed. He stops running, turns. We see something terrible reflected in the visor of the astronaut's helmet. Hard cut to the "Land Of the Lost" title card, along with a dissonant music cue that would be right at home in Jerry Goldsmith's Planet Of the Apes score.
This is a lot more awesome than the Will-Ferrell-plus-dinosaurs comedy I was expecting. I say this as a guy who likes Will Ferrell and dinosaurs. And comedy.
After that title card, Will Ferrell shows up. And the movie starts getting less awesome. Ferrell is playing Dr. Rick Marshall, the latest in a long line of Ferrell's over-confident buffoons. This is a character Ferrell does well--I'm especially fond of the Ron Burgundy and Ricky Bobby iterations. But something seems tired this time around, despite the efforts of Ferrell and Matt Laurer (playing himself).
Dr. Marshall picks up a couple of sidekicks, one a pretty girl (Anna Friel), one a dumb dude (Danny McBride), and the three accidentally take a trip to a strange alternate dimension, a "land of the lost" as it were. (Matt Laurer stays home.)
I'm leaving out a lot of details here, but, even this early in the movie, the tone is all over the place. Is it a Will-Ferrell-as-buffoon comedy? Is it a sci-fi adventure? Is it a send-up of overly earnest sci-fi adventures (like the Land Of the Lost television show, on which this movie is based)?
Unfortunately, the tone never evens out. Which is a shame, because the tone thing should, and could, have been addressed by the screenplay. Here's a movie with a solid cast, excellent cinematography and production design, groovy practical effects (lizard men!), and decent dinosaurs (to this day, I don't think anyone has topped the original Jurassic Park dinos). But the screenwriters don't know what kind of story they want to tell, and there's no way the movie can overcome that lack of direction.
Even the music seems confused. Michael Giacchino, who wrote one of my favorite scores of recent years (The Incredibles), can't decide whether he wants to be Jerry Goldsmith in weird, unsettling mode or John Williams in stirring, uplifting mode. (Note to Giacchino: you should have stuck with the Goldsmith-y stuff.)
When Jon Lucas and Scott Moore wrote The Hangover, they knew exactly what kind of story they wanted to tell. A funny story. A no-holds-barred, take-no-prisoners funny story.
The plot couldn't be simpler. Four friends hit Vegas for a night of partying. Three wake up the next morning, unable to remember the party night or the whereabouts of friend number four. They embark on a mission to find their missing comrade, and (I say this in all seriousness) hilarity ensues.
I shouldn't give Lucas and Moore all the credit for that hilarity. While they devise a plethora of absurd situations for our protagonists, the director (Old School alum Todd Phillips) and actors (especially Zach Galifianakis, turning awkwardness into high art) work hard to wring every possible laugh from each scene.
I'm not sure what else I can say about The Hangover without starting to list details of all the funny stuff that happens in the movie. And that's no good. So I'll just wholeheartedly recommend the flick to any not-easily-offended folks (the movie earns its "R" rating) looking for a good time at the multiplex.
Oh, and now that I think about it, that simple plot I mentioned earlier is actually kind of elegant. Most, if not all, of the bizarre events in the first half of the movie pay off in unexpected, yet logical, ways in the movie's second half. If there's some kind of "most laughs/fewest plot holes" award for this summer's movies, The Hangover is gonna be tough to beat.
This is a lot more awesome than the Will-Ferrell-plus-dinosaurs comedy I was expecting. I say this as a guy who likes Will Ferrell and dinosaurs. And comedy.
After that title card, Will Ferrell shows up. And the movie starts getting less awesome. Ferrell is playing Dr. Rick Marshall, the latest in a long line of Ferrell's over-confident buffoons. This is a character Ferrell does well--I'm especially fond of the Ron Burgundy and Ricky Bobby iterations. But something seems tired this time around, despite the efforts of Ferrell and Matt Laurer (playing himself).
Dr. Marshall picks up a couple of sidekicks, one a pretty girl (Anna Friel), one a dumb dude (Danny McBride), and the three accidentally take a trip to a strange alternate dimension, a "land of the lost" as it were. (Matt Laurer stays home.)
I'm leaving out a lot of details here, but, even this early in the movie, the tone is all over the place. Is it a Will-Ferrell-as-buffoon comedy? Is it a sci-fi adventure? Is it a send-up of overly earnest sci-fi adventures (like the Land Of the Lost television show, on which this movie is based)?
Unfortunately, the tone never evens out. Which is a shame, because the tone thing should, and could, have been addressed by the screenplay. Here's a movie with a solid cast, excellent cinematography and production design, groovy practical effects (lizard men!), and decent dinosaurs (to this day, I don't think anyone has topped the original Jurassic Park dinos). But the screenwriters don't know what kind of story they want to tell, and there's no way the movie can overcome that lack of direction.
Even the music seems confused. Michael Giacchino, who wrote one of my favorite scores of recent years (The Incredibles), can't decide whether he wants to be Jerry Goldsmith in weird, unsettling mode or John Williams in stirring, uplifting mode. (Note to Giacchino: you should have stuck with the Goldsmith-y stuff.)
When Jon Lucas and Scott Moore wrote The Hangover, they knew exactly what kind of story they wanted to tell. A funny story. A no-holds-barred, take-no-prisoners funny story.
The plot couldn't be simpler. Four friends hit Vegas for a night of partying. Three wake up the next morning, unable to remember the party night or the whereabouts of friend number four. They embark on a mission to find their missing comrade, and (I say this in all seriousness) hilarity ensues.
I shouldn't give Lucas and Moore all the credit for that hilarity. While they devise a plethora of absurd situations for our protagonists, the director (Old School alum Todd Phillips) and actors (especially Zach Galifianakis, turning awkwardness into high art) work hard to wring every possible laugh from each scene.
I'm not sure what else I can say about The Hangover without starting to list details of all the funny stuff that happens in the movie. And that's no good. So I'll just wholeheartedly recommend the flick to any not-easily-offended folks (the movie earns its "R" rating) looking for a good time at the multiplex.
Oh, and now that I think about it, that simple plot I mentioned earlier is actually kind of elegant. Most, if not all, of the bizarre events in the first half of the movie pay off in unexpected, yet logical, ways in the movie's second half. If there's some kind of "most laughs/fewest plot holes" award for this summer's movies, The Hangover is gonna be tough to beat.
Friday, June 5, 2009
If adventure has a name...
...it must be Carl Fredricksen.
There are two kinds of Pixar movies--the pretty good ones (Cars) and the great ones (everything else). Instead of writing a review of Pixar's latest, Up, I thought about just coining a new acronym to save us all time when reviewing or discussing Pixar movies in the future...
APM (another Pixar masterpiece).
Because Up, like WALL-E, Ratatouille, The Incredibles, and all the non-Cars Pixar movies going all the way back to 1995's Toy Story, is a wonderful, near-perfect movie. By my estimate, Pixar's batting average is something like .975. Think about how hit-and-miss most of the big studios are with their movies, then think about that Pixar number. Impressive, to say the least. In fairness, Pixar doesn't release nearly as many flicks per year as the other studios, so maybe they have more time for quality control.
If you've seen the Up trailers or the poster, you know the movie is about an older gentleman, Carl Fredricksen, who uses a few hundred helium balloons to turn his house into a makeshift airship. The movie actually begins with Carl as a young boy, then explores the next 50 or so years of his life in an amazing montage that tells us everything we need to know about Carl in just a few minutes. Without a word of dialog.
The Angels and Demons guys should all watch this montage before they make another movie.
The balloon house thing is just the first imaginative element in a movie that proves almost endlessly inventive. And pulpy. For example, Up gives us talking dogs, but they're not of the usual talking-cartoon-animal variety. There is a science fiction explanation for the verbose canines that would make Kurt Vonnegut proud.
With a story this fun, it might be possible to overlook the quality of the animation, which is top-notch. Beyond top-notch, actually. The Pixar guys invented the computer-animated feature film and then continued to innovate, year after year, movie after movie. Dreamworks and Fox have their Shrek and Ice Age franchises, respectively, but none of those flicks can hold a candle to WALL-E or Up from a craft standpoint. It's not just that Pixar is in a league of its own, it's that nobody else is even playing the same sport.
Speaking of innovation, Up is the first Pixar movie in 3D. And the 3D is nicely done. I especially like a gag that opens the movie. We're watching what looks like old black and white newsreel footage. It is, appropriately, 2D. Then the camera--virtual camera, sorry--pulls back and we see we're in a movie theater, sitting behind the 3D audience, watching the newsreel with them. It's a neat little movie-inside-the-movie bit, and it's really enhanced by the 3D.
Even with the new and improved digital 3D we're getting these days, it's not perfect. The colors just don't pop quite as much when they're filtered through those polarized 3D glasses. As my friend Kyle McKinnon asked, "Are you going to see Up in 3D or in color?" I'm glad I got to see the 3D version, but I look forward to seeing it in full color on the eventual Blu-ray disc.
When Stacey and I saw Up at the Vestavia Rave theater, it screened with a lead-in short (I love that Pixar has brought short films to the cineplex--hey, Warner, how about a Bugs Bunny short before the new Harry Potter flick?) and a 3D preview for Toy Story 3. It's easy to be cynical about all the sequels, remakes, and reboots we're getting these days, but I'm excited about the prospect of another romp with Woody, Buzz, and the gang. Heck, if the Pixar streak continues, the Toy Story series will end up as one of those rare trilogies where the last movie is better than the first.
There are two kinds of Pixar movies--the pretty good ones (Cars) and the great ones (everything else). Instead of writing a review of Pixar's latest, Up, I thought about just coining a new acronym to save us all time when reviewing or discussing Pixar movies in the future...
APM (another Pixar masterpiece).
Because Up, like WALL-E, Ratatouille, The Incredibles, and all the non-Cars Pixar movies going all the way back to 1995's Toy Story, is a wonderful, near-perfect movie. By my estimate, Pixar's batting average is something like .975. Think about how hit-and-miss most of the big studios are with their movies, then think about that Pixar number. Impressive, to say the least. In fairness, Pixar doesn't release nearly as many flicks per year as the other studios, so maybe they have more time for quality control.
If you've seen the Up trailers or the poster, you know the movie is about an older gentleman, Carl Fredricksen, who uses a few hundred helium balloons to turn his house into a makeshift airship. The movie actually begins with Carl as a young boy, then explores the next 50 or so years of his life in an amazing montage that tells us everything we need to know about Carl in just a few minutes. Without a word of dialog.
The Angels and Demons guys should all watch this montage before they make another movie.
The balloon house thing is just the first imaginative element in a movie that proves almost endlessly inventive. And pulpy. For example, Up gives us talking dogs, but they're not of the usual talking-cartoon-animal variety. There is a science fiction explanation for the verbose canines that would make Kurt Vonnegut proud.
With a story this fun, it might be possible to overlook the quality of the animation, which is top-notch. Beyond top-notch, actually. The Pixar guys invented the computer-animated feature film and then continued to innovate, year after year, movie after movie. Dreamworks and Fox have their Shrek and Ice Age franchises, respectively, but none of those flicks can hold a candle to WALL-E or Up from a craft standpoint. It's not just that Pixar is in a league of its own, it's that nobody else is even playing the same sport.
Speaking of innovation, Up is the first Pixar movie in 3D. And the 3D is nicely done. I especially like a gag that opens the movie. We're watching what looks like old black and white newsreel footage. It is, appropriately, 2D. Then the camera--virtual camera, sorry--pulls back and we see we're in a movie theater, sitting behind the 3D audience, watching the newsreel with them. It's a neat little movie-inside-the-movie bit, and it's really enhanced by the 3D.
Even with the new and improved digital 3D we're getting these days, it's not perfect. The colors just don't pop quite as much when they're filtered through those polarized 3D glasses. As my friend Kyle McKinnon asked, "Are you going to see Up in 3D or in color?" I'm glad I got to see the 3D version, but I look forward to seeing it in full color on the eventual Blu-ray disc.
When Stacey and I saw Up at the Vestavia Rave theater, it screened with a lead-in short (I love that Pixar has brought short films to the cineplex--hey, Warner, how about a Bugs Bunny short before the new Harry Potter flick?) and a 3D preview for Toy Story 3. It's easy to be cynical about all the sequels, remakes, and reboots we're getting these days, but I'm excited about the prospect of another romp with Woody, Buzz, and the gang. Heck, if the Pixar streak continues, the Toy Story series will end up as one of those rare trilogies where the last movie is better than the first.
Blockbuster summer.
I decided I'm going to watch and write about all of the big summer movies this year. Because I figure, after sitting through Wolverine, I got nothing to lose. And there aren't enough movie critics on the Internet.
I'll post my thoughts on Up in a bit.
I'll post my thoughts on Up in a bit.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Andělé a Démoni.
I had no plans to see Angels and Demons, director Ron Howard's sequel to his yawn-inducing The Da Vinci Code. But Stacey has a soft spot for Angels co-star Ewan McGregor, I have a soft spot for cineplex nachos, and we were on vacation with a couple of hours to kill. So I figured, "what the heck?"
In hindsight, we should have re-visited Star Trek. Actually, Monsters Vs. Aliens, which I bet is a hoot, was playing in 3-D, but I didn't want my first viewing of that flick to be a version dubbed in Czech (Angels was original language, subtitled for the locals).
Though not as bad as Code, Angels and Demons has the same problem--the underlying story just isn't that cinematic. The protagonist, Robert Langdon (Tom Hanks) knows a bunch about history and religion and secret societies... Look, it's cool stuff, the kind of stuff I would spend hours reading about on Wikipedia, but I can do that on my own time. No need for some studio to spend millions of dollars to make Wikipedia: History, Religion, and Secret Societies: The Movie.
Here's the flick in a nutshell: there is a puzzle of some sort, Langdon spits out a bunch of obscure information, he uses that information to solve the puzzle, the solution leads to another puzzle. Repeat five or six times, roll end credits.
I guess that's not all. I mean there's something of a plot, involving a dead Pope and kidnappings and anti-matter, but it's less interesting than those three elements might lead you to believe.
Oh, Angels does have one thing going for it--it was filmed in Rome, and Rome is a beautiful city.
I think both of Howard's Langdon "adventures" are trying to be Raiders Of the Lost Ark movies in a contemporary setting. But Indiana Jones is a well-defined character who happens to know a bunch of cool stuff. Langdon happens to know a bunch of cool stuff, and that's where the character definition ends with him. Plus, Indy solves his share of puzzles, but he doesn't say much. He just solves that shit. Oftentimes with a gun or a bullwhip or some bare-knuckle fisticuffs... you know, actions that can be captured on film.
"Show, don't tell." Has Ron Howard somehow forgotten this most basic tenet of filmmaking after 30 or so years in the director's chair? Or are screenwriters David Koepp (who should know better) and Akiva Goldsman (who probably doesn't) to blame?
If you're still interested in Angels and Demons, let me save you a few bucks. Go to the library and borrow a book about Rome, one of those big coffee table books with lots of photos. Then get on Wikipedia and look up "Catholic Church," "Illuminati," and "Galileo." Don't be afraid to follow whatever hyperlinks those pages offer up. Your cost: nothing. If you're dead set on spending some money, go on a Roman holiday. Or maybe just invest in a bag of Tostados and a big can of Rico's nacho cheese sauce.
In hindsight, we should have re-visited Star Trek. Actually, Monsters Vs. Aliens, which I bet is a hoot, was playing in 3-D, but I didn't want my first viewing of that flick to be a version dubbed in Czech (Angels was original language, subtitled for the locals).
Though not as bad as Code, Angels and Demons has the same problem--the underlying story just isn't that cinematic. The protagonist, Robert Langdon (Tom Hanks) knows a bunch about history and religion and secret societies... Look, it's cool stuff, the kind of stuff I would spend hours reading about on Wikipedia, but I can do that on my own time. No need for some studio to spend millions of dollars to make Wikipedia: History, Religion, and Secret Societies: The Movie.
Here's the flick in a nutshell: there is a puzzle of some sort, Langdon spits out a bunch of obscure information, he uses that information to solve the puzzle, the solution leads to another puzzle. Repeat five or six times, roll end credits.
I guess that's not all. I mean there's something of a plot, involving a dead Pope and kidnappings and anti-matter, but it's less interesting than those three elements might lead you to believe.
Oh, Angels does have one thing going for it--it was filmed in Rome, and Rome is a beautiful city.
I think both of Howard's Langdon "adventures" are trying to be Raiders Of the Lost Ark movies in a contemporary setting. But Indiana Jones is a well-defined character who happens to know a bunch of cool stuff. Langdon happens to know a bunch of cool stuff, and that's where the character definition ends with him. Plus, Indy solves his share of puzzles, but he doesn't say much. He just solves that shit. Oftentimes with a gun or a bullwhip or some bare-knuckle fisticuffs... you know, actions that can be captured on film.
"Show, don't tell." Has Ron Howard somehow forgotten this most basic tenet of filmmaking after 30 or so years in the director's chair? Or are screenwriters David Koepp (who should know better) and Akiva Goldsman (who probably doesn't) to blame?
If you're still interested in Angels and Demons, let me save you a few bucks. Go to the library and borrow a book about Rome, one of those big coffee table books with lots of photos. Then get on Wikipedia and look up "Catholic Church," "Illuminati," and "Galileo." Don't be afraid to follow whatever hyperlinks those pages offer up. Your cost: nothing. If you're dead set on spending some money, go on a Roman holiday. Or maybe just invest in a bag of Tostados and a big can of Rico's nacho cheese sauce.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Lens flares, plot holes, and the new Star Trek.
Some people have complained that the screenplay to the latest Star Trek movie is pretty stupid, and those people make a good point. Trek is one of those movies that starts to fall apart if you think about it too much on the ride home from the cineplex.
I've also heard complaints about all the lens flares in the movie, but the flares are kind of brilliant. Trek director J. J. Abrams is a smart guy, and I think he built on an idea from another successful science fiction remake--the Sci Fi channel's Battlestar Galactica. Ronald D. Moore (also a smart guy) and the rest of the Galactica creative team (full of smart guys and gals, I'm sure) employed ragged, hand-held-style camera work to "film" their space ship battles, and it made the stuff seem more like a documentary and less like what it really was--a bunch of pixels beefed up with some nice sound effects and music.
The practical shots in Trek--especially on the bridge of the starship Enterprise, which is lit up like a Christmas tree--are chock full of lens flares (these are crazy anamorphic lens flares, mind you, not piddly little spherical flares). When there's a cut to some exterior shot of a space battle or a planet getting imploded or whatever, the lens flares added on top of the underlying pixels add a certain weight to the shot that I don't think you'd get any other way.
And flares aren't the only trick Abrams uses to sell his computer-generated images. Our now young Captain Kirk (Chris Pine) gets chased by a couple of big monsters during a small-scale blizzard. These critters would likely look pretty goofy on a sunny day, but all that snow blowing around almost makes you believe something really is chasing Kirk. I say "almost" because some of the compositing seems a little off in the Kirk v. Monsters scene, but the story has built up so much momentum at this point in the movie, I don't know if any but the most nit-picky (like me) will notice.
Yeah, I said earlier that the script is pretty dumb, but it ain't slow. The movie's two-plus hours feel a lot more like 90 minutes. Add a terrific and game cast to all that gorgeous real and virtual camera work (and meticulous sound design/mixing--I expect this movie will kill on Blu-ray), and you get a movie that's a textbook example of "crowd pleaser."
How good is that cast? I'll just say that I'm a big fan of the original Trek television show from the 60s, and I accepted the new Kirk, Spock (Zachary Quinto), Scotty (the always-welcome Simon Pegg), et al, from the get-go. In fact, I was ready to see this cast in a sequel or two about 45 minutes into the movie. A month ago, I wouldn't have foreseen a world where there is room for more than one James Tiberius Kirk, but Pine proved me wrong. And is it too much to ask for some more Bruce Greenwood ("Captain Pike") in the sequel? That guy doesn't get nearly enough work.
If there's a problem with Star Trek, aside from those plot holes, it's that it sometimes feels methodical in its efforts to entertain. Is J. J. Abrams too smart for his own good? If a director works too hard to show us a good time, does that make a movie a little less fun? Well, maybe. But I saw Trek a week after watching Wolverine, a quarter-assed flick that strives for half-assedness in its best moments. If Abrams' only sin is putting 110 percent into every frame of Star Trek, I think I can forgive him.
I've also heard complaints about all the lens flares in the movie, but the flares are kind of brilliant. Trek director J. J. Abrams is a smart guy, and I think he built on an idea from another successful science fiction remake--the Sci Fi channel's Battlestar Galactica. Ronald D. Moore (also a smart guy) and the rest of the Galactica creative team (full of smart guys and gals, I'm sure) employed ragged, hand-held-style camera work to "film" their space ship battles, and it made the stuff seem more like a documentary and less like what it really was--a bunch of pixels beefed up with some nice sound effects and music.
The practical shots in Trek--especially on the bridge of the starship Enterprise, which is lit up like a Christmas tree--are chock full of lens flares (these are crazy anamorphic lens flares, mind you, not piddly little spherical flares). When there's a cut to some exterior shot of a space battle or a planet getting imploded or whatever, the lens flares added on top of the underlying pixels add a certain weight to the shot that I don't think you'd get any other way.
And flares aren't the only trick Abrams uses to sell his computer-generated images. Our now young Captain Kirk (Chris Pine) gets chased by a couple of big monsters during a small-scale blizzard. These critters would likely look pretty goofy on a sunny day, but all that snow blowing around almost makes you believe something really is chasing Kirk. I say "almost" because some of the compositing seems a little off in the Kirk v. Monsters scene, but the story has built up so much momentum at this point in the movie, I don't know if any but the most nit-picky (like me) will notice.
Yeah, I said earlier that the script is pretty dumb, but it ain't slow. The movie's two-plus hours feel a lot more like 90 minutes. Add a terrific and game cast to all that gorgeous real and virtual camera work (and meticulous sound design/mixing--I expect this movie will kill on Blu-ray), and you get a movie that's a textbook example of "crowd pleaser."
How good is that cast? I'll just say that I'm a big fan of the original Trek television show from the 60s, and I accepted the new Kirk, Spock (Zachary Quinto), Scotty (the always-welcome Simon Pegg), et al, from the get-go. In fact, I was ready to see this cast in a sequel or two about 45 minutes into the movie. A month ago, I wouldn't have foreseen a world where there is room for more than one James Tiberius Kirk, but Pine proved me wrong. And is it too much to ask for some more Bruce Greenwood ("Captain Pike") in the sequel? That guy doesn't get nearly enough work.
If there's a problem with Star Trek, aside from those plot holes, it's that it sometimes feels methodical in its efforts to entertain. Is J. J. Abrams too smart for his own good? If a director works too hard to show us a good time, does that make a movie a little less fun? Well, maybe. But I saw Trek a week after watching Wolverine, a quarter-assed flick that strives for half-assedness in its best moments. If Abrams' only sin is putting 110 percent into every frame of Star Trek, I think I can forgive him.
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