Jmunney's Blog

The first 300 was undoubtedly accomplished in its kinetic, comic book-style visuals.  Whether you found those visuals to be the coolest thing ever or migraine-inducing, they presented a fully realized, singular vision of what an action movie could be.  It was one of those cinematic innovations that demanded you have a reaction to it one way or the other.  The sequel keeps the same style more or less out of sense of obligation.  It’s not that director Noam Murro (taking over for Zack Snyder, who remained on as a producer) isn’t happy to play around in this sandbox, it’s that he doesn’t offer any new twists on the whole shebang.  A parade of limbs are hacked off with ease, and it is all too boring to even be disturbing.

One bright spot is the unbelievably smoldering Eva Green as Queen Artemisia, basically the only interesting character, or at least the only character I remember anything about (though I suppose Sullivan Stapleton did make a modicum of an impression as Athenian general Themistocles).  In a world dominated by unbridled masculinity, she wields her femininity in a way that beats the men at their own game.  She is a warrior-seductress, sublimely aroused by an existence that is constantly at battle.  Accordingly, the only time the movie sparks to life is her negotiation-sex-fight with Themistocles, raucously bringing to the level of text the subtext of all warrior negotiations. C-

Will Smith plays Lucifer.  The story jumps ahead 100 years with no explanation.  Will Smith wears a blazer over a Jimi Hendrix T-shirt – in 1916.  Russell Crowe speaks in an Irish accent with no explanation.  Kevin Corrigan plays Kevin Durand’s grandfather.  There is a horse named “Horse,” but apparently it’s actually a dog, but really it’s a pegasus.  Will Smith reads A Brief History of Time while hanging out under a bridge.  I understand if you now want to run out to go see Winter’s Tale right away, but be forewarned, other than the moments I’ve mentioned, it’s more boring than crazy.  (Also, it probably isn’t even in theatres anymore anyway.)

When I saw the trailer for Winter’s Tale, it initially looked like typical romance goop, albeit goop with a strong cast, but then it started jumping back and forth in time and got all mystical, and I thought, “This could be interestingly crazy.”  And there are parts when it is appreciably interestingly crazy.  When Winter’s Tale is on, it is batshit.  But most of the time, it is plainly underwhelming, and most of the actors don’t really seem to have any idea what they are doing.

There is some message in this film about how the stars and the light shine through and connect everything and make miracles possible, and all that is actually not as annoyingly bullshitty as it sounds.  It doesn’t make much sense, but it doesn’t come off as insulting because it is so nebulous.  It sounds like the ramblings of a crazy person who might actually have some insight but who is operating on a plane of existence so far removed from everyone else.  But it doesn’t sound like it is supposed to be crazy because the dialogue about it is delivered with such conviction by Jessica Brown Findlay.

Supposedly the novel Winter’s Tale is based on, written by Mark Helprin, is something of a modern classic.  I haven’t read it, but I still got the sense that the film chopped off at least half of the book’s narrative and subsequently didn’t bother to explain what was missing.  It’s worth watching Winter’s Tale if only to listen to the episode of the podcast How Did This Get Made? that covers Winter’s Tale, for the sake of hearing Paul Scheer, Jason Mantzoukas, and guest star Andy Daly try to figure out what was missing and for you to try to figure it out along with them.  So ultimately this review is a recommendation of How Did This Get Made?

Dallas Buyers Club is primarily about two things: Ron Woodroof’s enlightenment and his fight against the DEA.  I do not know how well the movie’s depiction of Woodroof’s change in attitude regarding homosexuals accurately captured the real-life version.  By the end, he still wasn’t comfortable with pictures of George Michael adorning his wall, but he was tolerant enough that he could actually be friends with gay and trans people, and that was a huge change from the good ol’ homophobic cowboy he was introduced as.  Frankly, at least as far as the success of the movie itself is concerned, I don’t think it matters how accurately this evolution captured real life.  More important is the internal logic of the story as it was presented.  Woodroof’s change of heart may have strained credulity, but the way he changed is kind of the way that people’s prejudices go away.  That is to say, he got to know the people he was prejudiced against.  The development that prompted this change may have been self-focused, but it wasn’t selfish: ultimately, Woodroof was a bigger fan of surviving than he was of gay-bashing, and he realized soon enough that making gay friends increased his chances of living.

DBC‘s anti-Drug Enforcement Administration stance is a little simplistic, but purposefully so, in that the movie is primarily Woodroof’s story.  He does his research to determine what AIDS treatments are most effective, but he is not a doctor, so he does not have the years of experiences that would presumably be necessary for someone to make the best determination.  So his dismissal of AZT may not be completely warranted, but his frustration with the government absolutely is.  Woodroof’s is a forceful personality, with an unwavering focus, which is so essential when a crisis is at its most desperate, and that is why his story works as one of the most inspiring movies of the past few years.  This story required a commanding lead performance, and no surprise that is what was delivered from Matthew McConaughey in the midst of his career renaissance.

The Monuments, Fine Arts, and Archives program was established as part of the Allied Armies in 1943 to retrieve artwork stolen by the Nazis.  The Monuments Men, the movie about this program, showed me these retrieval efforts, but it did not make me feel these retrieval efforts.  That is not entirely true, as there were moments when I my heart responded to the film’s tugging.  But overall, the effect this movie left on me was noble, but flat.  The emotions were believable, but some of them felt a little rote.  There is one oddly pitched scene in which Bill Murray’s character, Richard Campbell, receives a recording of some family members singing “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” which Bob Balaban’s character, Preston Savitz, plays for him, and it basically came out of nowhere.  Actually, Murray and Balaban’s whole dynamic is off.  They are supposed to be an antagonistic odd couple who eventually come around to be great friends, but I never got the sense that they didn’t love hanging out with each other, Balaban’s constantly bemused face notwithstanding.

Monuments Men does not fail completely.  Frank Stokes’ (George Clooney) speeches to FDR that bookend the film make a grand case for why this endeavor needed to be taken on and why it ought to be continued after the war’s end.  Essentially, the story itself is the selling point.  It is hard to screw up completely.  And with a cast this talented, it is unlikely that the result is going to be a complete waste of everyone’s time.  But this isn’t the best work of anyone involved.  I feel like Clooney works best as a director when he has a commanding lead performance and/or a strange story.  (Although I’m guessing a bit here, as I haven’t seen Good Night, and Good Luck. or Confessions of a Dangerous Mind.)  Ultimately, it’s not like there was anything all that bad about The Monuments Men, just not enough that was good.  Like, I want to rip into it, but also, I don’t? B-

Meryl Streep’s three daughters in August: Osage County are played by Julia Roberts, Julianne Nicholson, and Juliette Lewis.  That is to say, I thought these three ladies were convincing as sisters.  Meryl and Julia have gotten the majority of the press out of all the actors, what with the Oscar nominations and being two of the most famous working American actresses.  They were fine, certainly.  The whole cast was perfectly decent, no question.  Meryl is Meryl, but this was far from her best performance.  But it was Nicholson – perhaps the least-known of the cast – who was the one who really worked for me as youngest daughter Ivy.  With this film and her role on the Showtime series Masters of Sex, she is having a bit of a moment.  With just about everyone else going loud and/or hysterical, she was able to play her part with a fascinating self-assuredness.  I would also like to call out Chris Cooper, who makes one of those speeches that really show off a character’s integrity, and it is the sort of thing that always gets me.

This movie kind of felt like it should have ended about halfway through, around the end of Sam Shepard’s funeral.  There certainly was time for the story to continue, but it didn’t feel like there was a whole lot of purpose to what remained.  Plus, the tone wasn’t exactly remaining consistent.  Also, its roots as a play were all too present.  At the end, Meryl is walking around her house, talking to nobody in particular, and it looks like the sort of thing you would see on a stage.  August: Osage County is competent, but it doesn’t have panache in all the right places. B-

If you have any relatives who are hard of their hearing and terse of their speaking, then you will likely recognize a great deal in Nebraska.  There is a scene in the middle in which Woody Grant (Bruce Dern) and his brothers and some of their sons are sitting around and watching football.  A conversation breaks out, punctuated by “Huh?’s” and “What’s that?’s”, about a vaguely remembered, perfectly inconsequential car.  It reminded me a great deal of my great uncle who passed away earlier this year.  I was cracking up the whole time.

Despite its dour color palette and pitiable characters, Nebraska is a breezy hoot.  This is thanks mainly to the performances, because even when these characters are at their lowest, they are effortlessly charming.  (It must also be mentioned that the black and white isn’t really dour – Phedon Papamichael’s cinematography is lovely.)  I will join the chorus that has been praising Bruce Dern.  And I will express confused wonderment about how June Squibb has not had a bigger career (hey, it’s never too late to break out).  But anyone who knows me well knows that the actor I most want to talk about is Orville Willis Forte IV.  I was excited by the prospect of his first dramatic role, and I thought that the odds of success were in his favor.  In his time on SNL and all of his other comedic work, he commits completely to his performances.  That is a skill that does wonders for comedy AND drama, and he did not forget to utilize it as David Grant.  His role was a tricky mix of put-upon and forthright, and he pretty much nailed it.

The one thing that nagged at me was the yokel portrayal of the residents of director Alexander Payne’s native cornhusker state.  I am not sure if Payne wanted to say that most Nebraskans are simple-minded folk, and if he did, if he meant that as a bad thing, and I am not sure how much that characterization can be pinned on him anyway, seeing as he did not write the screenplay.  Ultimately, though, there was a mix of kindness and cruelty, sensibleness and naivete in Nebraska the film, just as I’m sure there is in Nebraska the state.