On a different day, I think I might have rather liked Joe Dante's Matinée, a sweet little comedy set in Florida during the Cuban missile crisis. It's nicely shot, nicely acted and tells its fundamentally endearing story with understated narrative flair. It felt to me like an intensely personal piece, too - a quick check reveals that during the period when the movie takes place, Dante would have been approximately the same age as the film's main protagonist who, coincidentally, is obsessed with creature features and monster comics.
As I say, on a different day...
Yesterday, however, I cricked my neck, and neck pain always brings out the asshole in me. What should have been cute, therefore, seemed saccharine, and John Goodman's avuncular performance as a B-movie producer came across as way too cuddly and nowhere near sleazy enough.
There's not a lot I feel sure about saying about Matinée, though, because - and I'm guessing here - it belongs to a cinematic idiom of which I have no experience. I suspect it shares DNA with the likes of Explorers, The Goonies and, most recently, Super-8, where (apparently) a group of cutely cinematic boys and the odd token female have excitingly PG-rated adventures and everything resolves at the end in a warm golden sunset of pure nostalgia. It's all good clean fun for small boys and sad middle-aged men, but I just don't get the romance of it and I suspect I never will.
Matinée spends way too long establishing time, place and mood, and by the time we finally get a sniff of Dante's trademark mischief, it all feels too little, too late. I'd been hoping for some proper anarchy, but when, midway through, the cat fell asleep on my notebook it was all I could do not to follow his excellent example.
Friday, October 23, 2015
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
Day 22: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (2005)
As a longstanding fan of the late Douglas Adams' book/TV series/radio serial/album The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, I'm used to the concept of canon being flexible. No two incarnations have ever followed the precise same trajectory, and I liked that; you've got to respect a creator who keeps his fandom on its toes. When the movie version was finally released, therefore, several decades after the original source material, I went in with an open mind, prepared to roll with whatever was thrown at me.
At the time, I remember being deliriously happy that director Garth Jennings hadn't fucked it up entirely. The visuals were cute and inventive, and his version of Trillian (aka The Love Interest) was more interesting than Adams' own interpretation ever was.
This was ten years ago, however; I'm older now, grumpier and I've definitely soured on it. Zooey Deschanel might be good as Trillian but she's still Zooey Deschanel, and I cannot be doing with that sort of relentless cutesiness. Likewise, I'm glad to see Sam Rockwell having matured since his performance as Zaphod, where he succeeds in turning one of modern literature's most enjoyable irritants into something nigh-on unwatchable.
As for the expected plot deviations? Much as I hate to admit it, I'm not sure they work. The Vogons are joke characters, they don't need more than a cursory backstory, and the whole thing with John Malkovich as Humma Kavula is way, way too laboured to justify the eventual punchline.
With all that said, there are compensations, most of which come in the form of Bill Nighy's world-weary worldbuilder Slartibartfast. His sheer affability is a joy to behold. He features largely, too, in the Magrathea scenes, where we see a factory floor where planets are being built, and the images on screen are as graceful and awe-inspiring as pretty much anything I've ever seen.
Adams' dialogue remains as lively as ever, but honestly? If I hadn't been familiar with the setting I don't think I'd have had a clue what was going on. I really wish the film could have brought the author's work to a whole new generation, but as epitaphs go, this one is mediocre at best.
At the time, I remember being deliriously happy that director Garth Jennings hadn't fucked it up entirely. The visuals were cute and inventive, and his version of Trillian (aka The Love Interest) was more interesting than Adams' own interpretation ever was.
This was ten years ago, however; I'm older now, grumpier and I've definitely soured on it. Zooey Deschanel might be good as Trillian but she's still Zooey Deschanel, and I cannot be doing with that sort of relentless cutesiness. Likewise, I'm glad to see Sam Rockwell having matured since his performance as Zaphod, where he succeeds in turning one of modern literature's most enjoyable irritants into something nigh-on unwatchable.
As for the expected plot deviations? Much as I hate to admit it, I'm not sure they work. The Vogons are joke characters, they don't need more than a cursory backstory, and the whole thing with John Malkovich as Humma Kavula is way, way too laboured to justify the eventual punchline.
With all that said, there are compensations, most of which come in the form of Bill Nighy's world-weary worldbuilder Slartibartfast. His sheer affability is a joy to behold. He features largely, too, in the Magrathea scenes, where we see a factory floor where planets are being built, and the images on screen are as graceful and awe-inspiring as pretty much anything I've ever seen.
Adams' dialogue remains as lively as ever, but honestly? If I hadn't been familiar with the setting I don't think I'd have had a clue what was going on. I really wish the film could have brought the author's work to a whole new generation, but as epitaphs go, this one is mediocre at best.
Day 21: The Rutles: All you need is cash (1978)
This one comes with an apology, as I seem to have slipped up - apparently it's a TV movie, something I only found out when I checked the IMDB this morning. The 76-minute runtime should have been a clue, I suppose, but I was curled up on the sofa after a long, boozy day out and all I was really thinking about was finding something that bore as little resemblance to Meet the Feebles as was humanly possible. I had something specific in mind but I couldn't find it, and The Rutles: All you need is cash was near the top of the DVD pile, so the decision was pretty much made for me.
The Rutles is an early example of the mockumentary genre - it might even be the earliest? It covers similar ground to This Is Spinal Tap, detailing the rise and fall of a fictional rock band. Where Spinal Tap takes its inspiration from the whole hair metal movement, however, The Rutles aims at a much narrower target (think four Liverpudlian moptops who were big in the 60s), and frequently hits it with dazzling precision.
It's all very watchable if you're into this sort of thing (and I am). The humour is cute, and the obligatory celebrity cameos only add to the charm. Here we have Mick and Bianca Jagger, plus a bunch of Saturday Night Live's then best and brightest, including Bill Murray, John Belushi and Gilda Radner.
Still, there won't be anything here you haven't seen before. There's the usual interviews with the band and the people close to them, the faked up news footage and album covers and the usual selection of musical parodies. Where The Rutles differs from most of the competition, however, is in the balance - the comedy here is a shade broader than in most similar movies, while the songs are so eerily accurate that they occasionally show up in my head masquerading as genuine Beatles numbers. Blame Neil Innes for this - he and Eric Idle might both occasionally be irritatingly smug, but my goodness, they have an ear for pastiche. I defy you to listen to what follows without experiencing at least a moment of confusion:
Worth a look, if only to see how little mockumentaries have changed over the past 40ish years.
The Rutles is an early example of the mockumentary genre - it might even be the earliest? It covers similar ground to This Is Spinal Tap, detailing the rise and fall of a fictional rock band. Where Spinal Tap takes its inspiration from the whole hair metal movement, however, The Rutles aims at a much narrower target (think four Liverpudlian moptops who were big in the 60s), and frequently hits it with dazzling precision.
It's all very watchable if you're into this sort of thing (and I am). The humour is cute, and the obligatory celebrity cameos only add to the charm. Here we have Mick and Bianca Jagger, plus a bunch of Saturday Night Live's then best and brightest, including Bill Murray, John Belushi and Gilda Radner.
Still, there won't be anything here you haven't seen before. There's the usual interviews with the band and the people close to them, the faked up news footage and album covers and the usual selection of musical parodies. Where The Rutles differs from most of the competition, however, is in the balance - the comedy here is a shade broader than in most similar movies, while the songs are so eerily accurate that they occasionally show up in my head masquerading as genuine Beatles numbers. Blame Neil Innes for this - he and Eric Idle might both occasionally be irritatingly smug, but my goodness, they have an ear for pastiche. I defy you to listen to what follows without experiencing at least a moment of confusion:
Worth a look, if only to see how little mockumentaries have changed over the past 40ish years.
Monday, October 19, 2015
Day 20: Meet the Feebles (1989)
I'd heard a lot of rumours about Peter Jackson's early work, and I'm pleased sad able to confirm that these are absolutely true. Serves me right for believing an appreciation for the work of Parker and Stone meant I was unshockable, I suppose, because now I have seen things that I will never be able to unsee.
Imagine that John Waters and Quentin Tarantino were Muppets, and that they had sex and somehow managed to make a baby. That baby would be Meet the Feebles, the most relentlessly tasteless piece of cinema I've ever seen (and I've seen Hop).
The viewing experience is hard to describe, but if I was pushed I'd guess that it was probably akin to slowly drowning in a vat full of a mixture of other people's septic bodily fluids; utterly revolting, yes, but some small part of you can't help laughing in incredulity at the sheer unlikely excess of it all.
It would be nice to say I discerned within Feebles the seed (possibly a bad word choice, under the circumstances) of the man who went on to direct Heavenly Creatures and all those Tolkien adaptations, but the only link I really noticed was the same ethos of Go big, or go home.
Feebles was made on a shoestring budget. It looks awful, and the acting and scripting are pretty dire, too. It is, however, completely unlike anything else out there. I'm not ashamed to say that it was too much for me to take, but on balance, I'm glad it's out there.
Imagine that John Waters and Quentin Tarantino were Muppets, and that they had sex and somehow managed to make a baby. That baby would be Meet the Feebles, the most relentlessly tasteless piece of cinema I've ever seen (and I've seen Hop).
The viewing experience is hard to describe, but if I was pushed I'd guess that it was probably akin to slowly drowning in a vat full of a mixture of other people's septic bodily fluids; utterly revolting, yes, but some small part of you can't help laughing in incredulity at the sheer unlikely excess of it all.
It would be nice to say I discerned within Feebles the seed (possibly a bad word choice, under the circumstances) of the man who went on to direct Heavenly Creatures and all those Tolkien adaptations, but the only link I really noticed was the same ethos of Go big, or go home.
Feebles was made on a shoestring budget. It looks awful, and the acting and scripting are pretty dire, too. It is, however, completely unlike anything else out there. I'm not ashamed to say that it was too much for me to take, but on balance, I'm glad it's out there.
Day 19: Fido (2006)
Aww, crap, I said, ten minutes into Andrew Currie's Fido, Someone's decided to remake Edward Scissorhands, but with zombies. Don't get me wrong, I don't loathe Tim Burton in the same visceral way I despise Christopher Nolan, but with the best will in the world he's a bit of an embarrassment, isn't he? I can see why his work appeals to the twelve-year-old set, but when I see university students trotting around with Nightmare Before Christmas backpacks? Awkward...
Let's be honest, on the surface, Fido does carry a lot of Burtonesque trappings. There's the sparkly-clean airbrushed 1950s visuals, the socially isolated young hero, and was there ever really a more Burton-friendly concept than the tale of a boy and his pet zombie? As I settled in to watch, my heart quickly grew heavy at the thought of having to sit through yet another tale of a misunderstood white male who almost loses everything he loves because the world is such a cruel and heartless place when you can't be bothered engaging with it.
Dammit, sometimes it feels good to be wrong. Rather than the treacly cod-fairytale I was expecting, Fido turned out to be a charming little piece of social commentary with more humanity in its 93-minute length than Burton has managed in his entire career thus far.
Credit where it's due; a lot of this is down to Billy Connolly as the titular character, a blue-skinned and entirely nonverbal zombie. Connolly communicates whole worlds of emotion with a sigh and a tilt of the head; his Fido is a laid-back and fundamentally affable individual who doesn't seem particularly interested in chowing down on anybody who doesn't represent a threat to Timmy, his human pal.
Playing support, meanwhile, we have Carrie-Anne Moss from The Matrix as Timmy's mother, in a role that's a whole lot more interesting than is usually the case in films such as these. Mrs. Robinson starts out as the sort of bog-standard social climber you get in every film about the hidden darkness at the heart of cosy suburbia but becomes the very heart of the movie, growing and changing but never losing track of what matters.
One of the things I loved about Fido is the way that Currie and his team seem to genuinely like people, to the extent where even the neighbourhood pervert Mr Theopolis (Tim Blake Nelson) gets a shot at redemption. His final scene in particular gave me a nicer case of the warm fuzzies than I've had in a very long time indeed.
Other than that? The film looks great, and thanks to some really nice pastiche songwriting, it sounds great, too. Blood and gore are kept to a minimum, and what we do get is determinedly cartoonish; unless your kids or grandmother are exceptionally sensitive, nothing here will bother them in the least. This suited me down to the ground, but if you're in the mood for hardcore zombie action then you might want to look elsewhere - this is a film that values brains far too much to want them splattered all over the wallpaper.
An unexpected delight.
Let's be honest, on the surface, Fido does carry a lot of Burtonesque trappings. There's the sparkly-clean airbrushed 1950s visuals, the socially isolated young hero, and was there ever really a more Burton-friendly concept than the tale of a boy and his pet zombie? As I settled in to watch, my heart quickly grew heavy at the thought of having to sit through yet another tale of a misunderstood white male who almost loses everything he loves because the world is such a cruel and heartless place when you can't be bothered engaging with it.
Dammit, sometimes it feels good to be wrong. Rather than the treacly cod-fairytale I was expecting, Fido turned out to be a charming little piece of social commentary with more humanity in its 93-minute length than Burton has managed in his entire career thus far.
Credit where it's due; a lot of this is down to Billy Connolly as the titular character, a blue-skinned and entirely nonverbal zombie. Connolly communicates whole worlds of emotion with a sigh and a tilt of the head; his Fido is a laid-back and fundamentally affable individual who doesn't seem particularly interested in chowing down on anybody who doesn't represent a threat to Timmy, his human pal.
Playing support, meanwhile, we have Carrie-Anne Moss from The Matrix as Timmy's mother, in a role that's a whole lot more interesting than is usually the case in films such as these. Mrs. Robinson starts out as the sort of bog-standard social climber you get in every film about the hidden darkness at the heart of cosy suburbia but becomes the very heart of the movie, growing and changing but never losing track of what matters.
One of the things I loved about Fido is the way that Currie and his team seem to genuinely like people, to the extent where even the neighbourhood pervert Mr Theopolis (Tim Blake Nelson) gets a shot at redemption. His final scene in particular gave me a nicer case of the warm fuzzies than I've had in a very long time indeed.
Other than that? The film looks great, and thanks to some really nice pastiche songwriting, it sounds great, too. Blood and gore are kept to a minimum, and what we do get is determinedly cartoonish; unless your kids or grandmother are exceptionally sensitive, nothing here will bother them in the least. This suited me down to the ground, but if you're in the mood for hardcore zombie action then you might want to look elsewhere - this is a film that values brains far too much to want them splattered all over the wallpaper.
An unexpected delight.
Sunday, October 18, 2015
Day 18: The Sting (1973)
This is going to be another brief one, I suspect, because having seen The Sting I'm not entirely sure I can do it justice. When I sat down to watch it yesterday I did so in anticipation of a few hours of pleasure rather than an easy blog entry, which seemed like a smart idea at the time but now maybe not so much.
I love movies about heists and cons and grifters, but I get the feeling that this is where I should be telling you what the film is about and I honestly couldn't, beyond the basics. Robert Redford stars as Johnny Hooker, a young conman who loses his partner in crime after accidentally grifting the wrong guy. Since by his own admission, he knows nothing about killing, he sets out to get his revenge in the only way he knows how, teaming up with Paul Newman's Henry Gondorff, master of the long con, to milk the murderous Doyle Lonnegan (Robert Shaw) for everything he has.
I honestly don't think I've seen a film like this before. It's intelligent and innovative and warm and witty at once, deploying a broad arsenal of tricks to create an atmosphere of romance and mischief that sits well within the depression-era setting. What sticks in my mind are the little things - the costume design, or the beautifully painted interstitials that divide the story into segments so we can keep track of where we are. It all hangs together wonderfully, creating a particularly immersive experience of a sort that you just don't really get any more.
On balance, I think that what I probably loved most about The Sting are the nods to silent film - the chaptered narrative structure, certainly, but also the use of music. Entire scenes are played out without the use of dialogue, accompanied by Marvin Hamlisch's award-winning re-working of Scott Joplin's The Entertainer.
All in all, this one was an eminently watchable delight, and richly deserving of its best picture Oscar. My initial thoughts on this were that it would never have won nowadays because the committee tends to be so much more pedestrian. Even this decade, however, films like The Artist have won, though - heck, this year Birdman got the gong. I haven't seen either of these yet, but as far as I'm aware neither of them are exactly conventional. There is, however, a common thread - showbusiness. The Artist and The Sting are both steeped in silent film lore, and Birdman stars former superhero actor Michael Keaton as, well, a former superhero actor. It's a testament to the essentially onanistic nature of Hollywood, I suppose, but even this is better than nothing if it means that genuine creativity can be rewarded once in a while.
I love movies about heists and cons and grifters, but I get the feeling that this is where I should be telling you what the film is about and I honestly couldn't, beyond the basics. Robert Redford stars as Johnny Hooker, a young conman who loses his partner in crime after accidentally grifting the wrong guy. Since by his own admission, he knows nothing about killing, he sets out to get his revenge in the only way he knows how, teaming up with Paul Newman's Henry Gondorff, master of the long con, to milk the murderous Doyle Lonnegan (Robert Shaw) for everything he has.
I honestly don't think I've seen a film like this before. It's intelligent and innovative and warm and witty at once, deploying a broad arsenal of tricks to create an atmosphere of romance and mischief that sits well within the depression-era setting. What sticks in my mind are the little things - the costume design, or the beautifully painted interstitials that divide the story into segments so we can keep track of where we are. It all hangs together wonderfully, creating a particularly immersive experience of a sort that you just don't really get any more.
On balance, I think that what I probably loved most about The Sting are the nods to silent film - the chaptered narrative structure, certainly, but also the use of music. Entire scenes are played out without the use of dialogue, accompanied by Marvin Hamlisch's award-winning re-working of Scott Joplin's The Entertainer.
All in all, this one was an eminently watchable delight, and richly deserving of its best picture Oscar. My initial thoughts on this were that it would never have won nowadays because the committee tends to be so much more pedestrian. Even this decade, however, films like The Artist have won, though - heck, this year Birdman got the gong. I haven't seen either of these yet, but as far as I'm aware neither of them are exactly conventional. There is, however, a common thread - showbusiness. The Artist and The Sting are both steeped in silent film lore, and Birdman stars former superhero actor Michael Keaton as, well, a former superhero actor. It's a testament to the essentially onanistic nature of Hollywood, I suppose, but even this is better than nothing if it means that genuine creativity can be rewarded once in a while.
Saturday, October 17, 2015
Day 17: The Watch (2012)
This is Sweeney:
And this is Arthur:
And they're here to tell you about just how much The Watch sucks.
Sweeney says that the first fifteen minutes of it are basically an extended advert for Costco, and that this isn't acceptable even if Costco do treat their employees well:
And Arthur says the scripting is aimed at the sort of people who find Kevin James films just that little bit too cerebral.
Sweeney says that the soundtrack is aimed at middle-aged men with an emotional age of somewhere between nine and thirteen years:
While Arthur would like to point out that the same applies to every other aspect of the damned movie.
Arthur also wonders what the fuck you were expecting from a Ben Stiller film about a bunch of regular joes fighting aliens in a suburban American setting?
Sweeney would also like to take this opportunity to entreat you (and me) not to watch Pixels:
WON'T SOMEBODY THINK OF THE POOR BLACK AND WHITE CATS??
And they're here to tell you about just how much The Watch sucks.
Sweeney says that the first fifteen minutes of it are basically an extended advert for Costco, and that this isn't acceptable even if Costco do treat their employees well:
And Arthur says the scripting is aimed at the sort of people who find Kevin James films just that little bit too cerebral.
Sweeney says that the soundtrack is aimed at middle-aged men with an emotional age of somewhere between nine and thirteen years:
While Arthur would like to point out that the same applies to every other aspect of the damned movie.
Arthur also wonders what the fuck you were expecting from a Ben Stiller film about a bunch of regular joes fighting aliens in a suburban American setting?
Sweeney would also like to take this opportunity to entreat you (and me) not to watch Pixels:
WON'T SOMEBODY THINK OF THE POOR BLACK AND WHITE CATS??
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