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Monday, January 18, 2010
Movie Review: 'Stranded: I've Come From a Plane that Crashed in the Mountains'
Movie Review: Stranded: I've Come from a Plane that Crashed in the MountainsViewed on: A late Saturday afternoon in Cincinnati, Ohio
Pre-movie meal: Dewey's Pizza (half 'Bronx Bomber' and half 'Socrates' Revenge') and a pint of Dewey's house ale
We saw 'Avatar' in 3-D at a 1:00 show at the local theater. Then, buzzed from the wild visuals, we came home and saw this DVD that's at the other end of the movie-experience spectrum.
Stranded: I've Come from a Plane that Crashed in the Mountains (clumsy title, yes) is a 2007 documentary about the same 1972 plane crash that was covered in the famous Piers Paul Read book Alive. That paperback was iconic in my teens; everybody read it and a copy always seemed to be kicking around in the high school or my friends' homes. I can still see the blue and white cover in my mind's eye.
The basics: local rugby team from Uruguay crashes in the mountains in a snowstorm on its way to Chile for a friendly match. The players are mostly 19 and 20, and some have parents or family with them. 45 on the plane in all; 29 survived the initial accident; only 16 survived the full 72 days until they were rescued. The survivors finally resorted to eating the frozen bodies of the dead, which they carved up with shards of broken glass and plastic from the plane.
The filmmakers took some of the survivors back to the site of the crash in 2006, and their narrative tells the story. (The film's in Spanish with subtitles.) The survivors are older now, but not THAT much older; in their mid-50s, mostly, some with children who come with them to the site.
The cannibalism is really a small part of their story, even though it quickly became the hook of the whole incident now. (And it didn't take long: the survivors returned home to tabloid headlines of "CANNIBALISMO!") Their choice makes perfect sense in context, even if most of the survivors knew the dead and had known them for years. In a way, it may have helped that they knew each other; the living were able to treat the cannibalism as a kind of intimate friend-helping-friend thing in their minds. Which it probably was. In any case, they weren't really chowing down on liver with Chianti, Hannibal-style; they were only able to carve tiny slivers of flesh with their crummy tools.
For quite a bit of their time on the mountains, the survivors had a working radio receiver. They could hear themselves being talked about on the news after the crash. Then a few days later, not talked about.
Eventually it gets into November and December (spring in the southern hemisphere). Once the thaw arrives they hope to send a hiking party of three men out to try and bring help, but the question becomes, how long can they wait for the thaw before they're too starved and exhausted to move at all?
We found the film quite gripping, even knowing how the story ends. The survivors are calm and practical about the whole ordeal, remembering parts with humor and parts with grim stoicism. Amazing stuff. Recommended for all ages.
Labels: Movie Reviews
Posted by Mr. Holznagel at 11:31 AM0 comments 
Thursday, December 31, 2009
George Clooney Sticks Out His (Slightly Aging) Neck in 'Up In the Air'
Movie Review: Up In the AirDirected by Jason Reitman
At the AMC Newport on the Levee 20
Pre-movie meal: pomegranate seeds and a half-shot of JTS Brown
Is there any other movie star in America today who would give us an honest peek at his starting-to-get-wrinkly 48-year-old neck the way George Clooney does near the end of in Up In the Air?
No. No, there isn't. There are many (Nicholson and Eastwood come to mind) who've done it when they're 64 and they can seem heroic for showing their age plainly onscreen, or can play it for silly-sex-scene laughs as a defensive maneuver. (*cough* Harrison Ford *cough*) But otherwise it won't happen, not if a star is still young enough to play leading men, even if only in his own mind.
It won't happen because most actors would never let that moment stay in the script, and the cinematographer (if he values his job) would shoot it so that the star looks great anyway, and even then the director would hesitate to shoot it because the studio would never leave it in and the actor's going to change his mind when he sees the rough cut and then you've got hassles.
(Clooney, with Anna Kendrick as his protege. No, this is not quite THAT neck scene. None of these photos are.)
It's not like it's a terrible wattle-y old man's neck anyway. It's just a hint of a not-perfect neck, a hint of the wattle-y old man's neck it will someday be. And that hint is pretty much what Up In the Air is all about.
You know the story basics: Clooney is a corporate terminator, a guy who flies around the country firing people. He has the gall to tell them in that same moment, in practiced self-actualization-speak, that it's the greatest thing that ever happened to them because now they can follow their dreams and conquer mountains and be the gourmet chefs they always wanted to be.
Not every terminated 53-year-old middle manager is glad to hear this glorious news.
The real story, though, is about Clooney's gleeful embrace of rootlessness, in the form of first-class flying and Hilton hotel stays and a carry-on bag he never has to check as luggage. His goal: to hit 10 million frequent flyer miles and become a made man, American Airlines-style, with super-duper-elite status for life.
Which is a goal that seems believable and even charming, because Clooney is so darned smooth. Up In the Air is like Clooney's last Oscar-nominated film, Michael Clayton, in one big way: in both cases, the lead is supposed to start as a jerk and then slowly come around to good-guy status, as the audience roots for him to come around. With Clooney the problem is that even when he plays a jerk, we like him right away, instinctively. It blows up that whole emotional arc.
That's dangerous here because Up In the Air is gently asking the question, "Is this seductive rootlessness and motion-for-the-sake-of-motion really where we all want to be going with our lives?" With Clooney on screen the answer is "Yes! Yes it is!"
That said, Up In the Air deserves all kinds of credit for taking the steps of the standard movie plot, as well-practiced as the steps for making the morning coffee, and spinning them around to surprise us. There must have been five times when I thought "Oh, now THIS is going to happen," only to have that thing not happen at all. This movie has its surprises.
And the two women cast with Clooney -- Vera Farmiga as his fellow-traveler-of-a-certain-age, and Anna Kendrick as his young go-getter protege -- are just beautifully cast. And appropriately hot in that we're-all-pretending-they're-not-really-hot-Hollywood-actresses-because-this-is-a-thoughtful-movie way. If Farmiga doesn't get tons of opportunities out of this, the way Virginia Madsen did out of Sideways, I'll be amazed. (Though honestly, playing believably sexy opposite George Clooney is a little easier than playing believably sexy opposite Paul Giamatti.)
Also, Sam Elliot appears in a witty cameo that would be a hilarious cameo if the moment he appears into weren't so sad. This isn't entirely a comedy/romance, even if it's billed as such.
I liked Up In the Air a lot. Is it a possible best picture winner? Jeepers, who even knows what qualifies any more? But it will get nominated. And I have a strong, strong feeling that Clooney is going to win his first best actor Oscar for this film. (He won best supporting actor for Syriana in 2008.) Because, well, because he's been in a ton of good movies and the right number of blockbusters and because it's time. And because he risked his neck.
I give Up In the Air 8.7 million frequent flier miles out of a possible 10 million.
And now for a downer ending: Shame on AMC for nearly driving us from the theater with an unconscionable (and unbeLIEVable) 30 minutes of ads and trailers before the movie. Truly, 30 minutes. (What are we, the sap audience for Transformers III?) Capped off, after increasingly loud and violent trailers, by a stupid pretend-hip promo demanding we turn off our cell phones: "Please, don't add your own sound to the movies."
Followed by one more ad for Coke.
Drop dead, AMC Theaters.
More movie photos of George Clooney >>
(Images supplied by WENN.)
Labels: Anna Kendrick, George Clooney, Movie Reviews, Up In the Air, Vera Farmiga
Posted by Mr. Holznagel at 3:42 AM0 comments
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Rober Ebert Loves 'Avatar'
Roger Ebert's weekend review was a full-on rave for James Cameron's new film.Once again, [Cameron] has silenced the doubters by simply delivering an extraordinary film. There is still at least one man in Hollywood who knows how to spend $250 million, or was it $300 million, wisely.
It takes a hell of a lot of nerve for a man to stand up at the Oscarcast and proclaim himself King of the World. James Cameron just got re-elected.See Avatar photos >>
Labels: Avatar, James Cameron, Movie Reviews
Posted by Mr. Holznagel at 9:42 AM0 comments
William Shatner Sings in Esperanto!
Well, he didn't sing.But William Shatner DID star in Incubus, the only horror film ever shot entirely in Esperanto.
Most English speakers have given the film good ratings and reviews, likening it to the work of Ingmar Bergman, while Esperanto speakers are generally disappointed by the actors' dreadful pronunciation -- in particular, Shatner's dialogue was delivered with a very noticeable French accentIn the annals of Shatner criticism, "delivered Esperanto with a notable French accent" is a little like saying "Punched a Klingon while holding pinky at inappropriate 35-degree angle."
Incubus actually has a fine pedigree: director Leslie Stevens had already created the sci-fi TV show The Outer Limits. The cinematographer, Conrad Hall, is a three-time Academy Award winner who shot a million movies you've heard of, including Cool Hand Luke, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Marathon Man, and American Beauty. Shatner himself was just a year away from the star-making role of James T. Kirk.
The producer, Anthony Taylor, was a one-film wonder who chose Esperanto either because he wanted to capture the global Esperanto audience or because he figured the unfamiliar language would give Incubus an extra chilling kick.
Whichever. All negatives of Incubus were lost in an unfortunate fire, but a spare print turned up in France in the 1990s. The Sci-Fi Channel, god bless 'em, restored the film and it's now available on DVD.
The Daily Show gave it a snark-take review in 1999, with Shatner playing along for laughs:
| The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c | |||
| Bad Language | ||||
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YouTube also has this trailer, just slightly tongue-in-cheek, for the re-released film:
Somewhere, Ludwig Zamenhof is smiling.
We should have said that Incubus is the only horror film to date shot in Esperanto. It would still make a great hook for Scary Movie 5, wouldn't it? And Shatner could sing in that one.
Labels: Esperanto, Incubus, Movie Reviews, William Shatner
Posted by Mr. Holznagel at 9:23 AM0 comments
Monday, December 14, 2009
Why 'Christmas in Connecticut' is my New Favorite Holiday Movie
I haven't had a favorite holiday movie for quite a few years.The flaws and freaky moral messages of It's a Wonderful Life have long since been picked over like the carcass of the Christmas goose -- no need to go into them here. Holiday Inn I can't enjoy because of my irrational anger that so many people mistake the lamentable pseudo-sequel White Christmas for the original.
Plus, the endless "comic" mugging of Crosby and Astaire in Holiday Inn is outdone only by the even worse mugging of Crosby and Kaye in White Christmas. I like Fred Astaire tapdancing with firecrackers, but that only points out that Holiday Inn isn't really a *Chistmas* movie anyway. It just happened that Irving Berlin wrote the snow's snappiest tune for December.
A Christmas Carol really IS one of the best Christmas stories ever, possibly even my favorite Dickens in a 1-2 race with A Tale of Two Cities. But none of the movie versions slays me, and there are too many of them anyway. Scrooge is just a little too beloved a role for thespians of a certain age.
A Christmas Story, the perennial post-modern favorite, just never made my radar. Undoubtedly it's a fun movie, beloved by many, and I've seen bits and pieces on TV many times, but Ralphie and his rifle just don't ring my Salvation Army bell. And today I must also mark it down a half-point for those faux-replica leg lamps you see for sale everywhere.
I've never liked dysfunctional family stories, so throw out The Best Christmas Pageant Ever and its ilk. Miracle on 34th Street, I dig Edmund Gwynn's restrained and distinguished (for once) Santa Claus, and I remain fascinated by Natalie Wood's strange, solemn little-girl face -- the one that will grow up into the solemn and headstrong face she wears in Rebel Without a Cause and Splendor in the Grass. The triumphant millions-of-mailbags courtroom scene is a great Hollywood moment, yes. But that's as far as it goes.
Scrooged, the comedy with Bill Murray, was an instant favorite when I first saw it, thanks in no small part to my crush on Karen Allen. But it hasn't held up well -- such is the curse of all 1980s comedies. (See: Tootsie.) And it's a snarky comedy, so calling it a holiday favorite is kind of like calling Groundhog Day a holiday favorite.
The truth is, I just sat out holiday movies and TV shows for about 6 or 8 years there.
And I was vaguely aware that Arnold Schwarzenegger had directed a remake. I see now that it was in 1992, with the bizarre cast of Dyan Cannon, Kris Kristofferson, Tony Curtis and Richard Roundtree. (That sounds like the cast for a *1972* remake, honestly.) There must be a fascinating tale to how Arnold Schwarzenegger chose a remake of Christmas in Connecticut as the one and only movie directing job of his life. Given the date, he apparently shot it between Terminator 2 (1992) and Last Action Hero (1993). I can't even imagine what he had in mind there.
But the original Christmas in Connecticut is a grrrrreat movie, it turns out. I've been watching the TV listings for it here this year with no luck -- the channels are clogged with White Christmas reruns -- so we blew $2.95 for it on pay-per view last night.
Here are seven reasons why I love it.
Reason 1) Sydney Greenstreet, Sydney Greenstreet, Sydney Greenstreet! He was halfway through his 22-film career -- this is #12 -- and three years removed from his fabulous turn as Signor Ferrari, the "fat gent" in Casablanca, when he made this film. He's magazine mogul Alexander Yardley, and his considerable bulk anchors the helium-weight plot that floats around him. Watching joy and vexation wash across his face -- especially in the kitchen, contemplating flapjacks or cold chicken from the icebox -- is as pleasant as watching a baby smile in the crib.
Also, respect to his co-star from Casablanca, S.Z. "Cuddles" Sakall, playing his usual cute and addled self. In Casablanca he's the comic-relief waiter who says that Rick's casino is "honest as the day is long." Here he's Uncle Felix, the fretting chef who is the real genius behind Barbara Stanwyck's recipes. Sakall can squeeze more wit out of a simple eye-roll than Danny Kaye can get with 20 minutes of rubber-faced frenzy. He and Greenstreet are money.
Reason 2) Christmas in Connecticut is a holiday movie I'd *actually like to be living in.*
There's a "breather" scene mid-movie, set in the early evening on Christmas Eve, in the Connecticut country home with an absurdly huge fireplace: two of the company are at one table, casually playing dominoes and drinking cocktails, while an Irish tenor (our hero) plays the piano and sings, and Barbra Stanwyck trims the tree. (How quaint: trimming the tree on the actual Christmas Eve.) Snow is drifting outside. And it just looks like a GREAT time.
Who doesn't want to be in a snowy, gorgeous, roomy Connecticut country home on Christmas Eve, where everyone arrives by horse-drawn sleigh, with Uncle Felix in the kitchen cooking a fabulous dinner, while you trim the tree or have a cocktail and soak it all in?
Compare to all those holiday movies that start with the unhappy home, the unhappy office, the unhappy in-laws. Or compare to It's a Wonderful Life, where (for all its modest charms) Bedford Falls is presented as the place you want to get OUT of. (When Jimmy Stewart says "I'm shaking the dust of this crummy little town off my feet," it's his most brutally honest line in the movie, even if he theoretically changes his mind in the end.)
The only spot that really looks like a good time in that movie is the negative-universe Martini's bar in Potterville, which is supposed to fill us with dismay but which secretly looks like fun. It isn't a "nice" place, but it's noisy and busy and they seem to be having a pretty good time on their way to Hell. In my personal fantasy version of Potterville, Donna Reed isn't a spinster librarian -- she's in this bar, wearing something fetching. But let's not go there.
Reason 3) Hearty food galore. The plot of the story, to gloss it, is that Barbra Stanwyck is a flighty single woman who pretends to be an exquisite chef and homemaker for her popular column in a women's magazine.
Which means half the movie is spent talking about roast duck, fried chicken, cranberry sauce, stuffing, real plum pudding, cold Chablis, and other fabulous holiday chow. (Even in 1945, the "real old-fashioned Christmas dinner" is a running joke that gets thrown in Stanwyck's face at every turn.) It's a great little fantasy, all that marvelous food and drink, and adds a swell aroma to the picture.
Reason 4) Barbara Stanwyck. Oh, she's scary in Double Indemnity, but she uses her powers for good in this film. Watching her little flustered socks-being-knocked-off scene when she first meets the war hero sailor (Jefferson Jones -- what a name) is just a delight. She's funny, she's sexy, and she manages to underplay the slapstick with the babies just enough to keep it from getting on your nerves. Her light touch makes the movie.
Reason 5) Dennis Morgan, the Irish tenor and war hero sailor, did his own singing and in real life was married to his high school sweetheart for 61 years. He also sang at Errol Flynn's funeral. 'Nuff said.Reason 6) It's the only Christmas movie in history that begins with a Nazi U-boat torpedoing an American destroyer.
Reason 7) The true spirit of Christmas is not revealed in this movie. They don't even make a pass at it, god bless 'em. The closest thing to a message is Sydney Greenstreet's final line: "What a Christmas. What a Christmas!"
And what a Christmas it is. Look, it's not a magnificent movie classic of all time. You could even call it a rehash of the olde Shakespearean setup of mistaken identities, mismatched couples, missing babies, loose cows, inconvenient fiancees being hidden in the next room, love conquering all, etc, etc.
But it has charm, and plenty of it. And it's now my official favorite Christmas movie.
Labels: Christmas, Movie Reviews
Posted by Mr. Holznagel at 5:59 PM3 comments
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Movie Review: FAT MAN AND LITTLE BOY
Paul Newman Memorial Movie ReviewFAT MAN AND LITTLE BOY
Viewed at home, courtesy of Netflix
Meal: Popcorn and 2/3 of a bottle of Luzon Jumilla Spanish wine (2005)
We happened to have FAT MAN AND LITTLE BOY in the house, courtesy of Netflix, so we watched it tonight with many fond nods and mental genuflections in the direction of Westport, Connecticut and the ghost of Paul Newman.
Good grief, this movie was made 20 years ago! 1989, to be exact. Starring Paul Newman, John Cusack (he dies in the end -- oops, SPOILER), Laura Dern in a creepy Sean-Young-in-BLADERUNNER hairnet, Natasha Richardson (yes, alas) and some guy as Robert Oppenheimer, commie.
It's not a great movie. It's stylish, good-looking, and has a beautiful score by Ennio "I've Written Music for 485 Different Freaking Movies" Morricone. But... too many heroes, and of course, none of them are heroes because they're building The Atom Bombs That Will Kill 200,000 Japanese Innocents. Except of course they aren't innocents, because the Japs started the war. Except we built the bomb to beat the Krauts, not the Japs, and once we beat the Krauts we should have stopped building The Bomb! Except wait, John Cusack's brother is fighting in the Philippines and needs the bomb to get home safe! Etc, etc.
The real problem is that the movie is built around Paul Newman and his star power, and in truth he's not really the natural star of the movie. He's General Leslie Groves, the not-very-likeable Army general who pushed the whole project forward. It's just not the "star" role, frankly. Groves is the villain -- the meanie who doesn't understand sensitive genius ol' J. Robert Oppenheimer (who has a hot commie mistress in San Francisco! And they're listening in on his calls to her, the baddies! And he's tortured by building the bomb! And Bonnie Bedelia is his tortured wife with nothing to do but appear every four scenes, looking tortured!).
Then John Cusack dies in a pointless accident (oops, SPOILER!) and the bomb succeeds and Oppenheimer gets treated like dirt. The end.
Except that the guy who plays Oppenheimer, Dwight Schultz, goes on to do voices in a million video games and TV shows you've never heard of.
Well, godblessyuh, Mr. Newman, you were the greatest. And the number of clinkers you appeared in is pretty darn small. This is one of 'em, though. So long!
I give it 3 lumps of killer unstable radioactive plutonium out of a possible 9.
Labels: John Cusack, Laura Dern, Movie Reviews, Natasha Richardson, Paul Newman
Posted by Mr. Holznagel at 12:49 PM0 comments
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Movie Review: 'The Hurt Locker'
THE HURT LOCKERViewed at the Newport AMC Theater in Newport, Kentucky
6:45 Saturday night show
Pre-movie meal: watermelon and blueberries
--
Intense!
I was skeptical of this film because it was directed by Katherine Bigelow, who also directed one of the silliest movies I've ever seen: Keanu Reeves going undercover as a surfer dude-bank robber to nab Patrick Swayze in POINT BREAK.
But THE HURT LOCKER is great. I know it's not doing too well, and probably never will do well, because who wants to go see a movie about Iraq? It's not summer fun. Our theater was about 10 percent full, while the rest of the complex was loaded with teens, parents, and sweating Kentuckians of all ages.
(As an aside, the previews seemed to peg us as the same audience for GI JOE. All we saw were trailers for horror movie after horror movie, including the silly-looking SORORITY ROW. I can't remember the others, but they all looked terrible and super-violent. Surely they're misreading the audience for this film?)
Mainly I would like to praise THE HURT LOCKER for being a movie where about 85% of the film takes place on missions. It's not a movie where you get eight scenes of boring barracks-room drama and then two scenes of high suspense and bombs. It's pretty much all suspense and bombs.
If you want thought-provoking action and what looks (to an outsider) like a pretty realistic view from the ground in Iraq, this is your movie. (By "pretty realistic" I mean "pretty realistic within the storytelling constraints and requirements of Hollywood," of course.)
Extra points for the film's soft-pedaling of politics, The Cost Of War, and other hot-button points that might have been pushed harder in a typical production. Wherever the title came from, nobody in the film ever stops the action to say something like, "You're in THE HURT LOCKER now, private!"
And the anti-bomb suit, and the anti-bomb robot, are pretty cool.
And there's a brief cameo, out of nowhere, by the awesome Ralph Fiennes.
Overall I give it 8 undefused IEDs out of a possible 10.
Labels: Katherine Bigelow, Keanu Reeves, Movie Reviews, Patrick Swayze, Ralph Fiennes
Posted by Mr. Holznagel at 7:56 AM0 comments
