Classic Farmer
The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou
I am not going to hide the fact that I think Wes Anderson is a genius. His movies, which include "Rushmore" and "The Royal Tenenbaums" are among the wittiest, best directed, and most enjoyable films that I have ever seen. What is great about Anderson is not only his sense of comedy and tragedy, but also his attention to detail. Recently, I bought the Criterion Collection DVD of "The Royal Tenenbaums," which came with a small insert of Wes Anderson's drawings of his stage sets and costumes. Indeed, those of you who are fans can attest that every frame of film is color coordinated and meticiously crafted to convey a theme or idea. I awaited the release of "The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou" from the very day I read that it was in production. I mean, come on: Bill Murray stars in an epic sea adventure around the world!
Put simply, "The Life Aquatic" is a post-modern masterpiece. Ironically, it is a film that scoffs at other current films. More interestingly, it is a modern retelling of Herman Melville's Moby-Dick. Now, I know what you are thinking; I just said a mouthful. To say that this film is post-modern and connected to Moby-Dick evokes loaded, even cliched ideas. However, I have come prepared. To make sure that I understood the movie, and also just out of pure enjoyment, I saw the movie twice. I would like to examine each of my statements individually, and make some side comments in between about other parts of Anderson's achievement.
First, there is the post-modernism. When I read the reviews for "The Life Aquatic," specifically Roger Ebert's, I knew that the film was going to be highly experimental and artsy. Even though I find myself agreeing with Ebert on so many movies (Lost in Translation, etc) I know that he often misses the underlying beauty and commentary of some movies. With "The Life Aquatic," Ebert fails to see the mocking undertone of what Anderson was trying to do. Instead, the fat man judges the movie as if it were in a vacuum. That is the central problem Ebert makes; he overlooks the fact that the unifying principle in all Wes Anderson movies is that art mimicks life and life, in turn, mimicks art. Let's dive into what I mean (no pun intended).
"The Life Aquatic" centers around Steve Zissoun an aging, maybe evn washed up oceanographer. However, Zissou's character is more than that synopsis. He is an artist who documents his sea adventures on film in very colorful and contrived documentaries. This is key. Throughout the movie, Zissou acts as if he is in an ongoing drama both in his professional and personal life. That said, here is the basic plot: During one of his routine film projects, Steve and his friend Esteban are attacked by a huge unidentified animal known as a "jaguar shark." Esteban is eaten and Zissou, though tramuatized, lives to tell the tale. As his next project, Zissou plans to hunt down the shark that kills Esteban and kill it. To throw things into the mix, Zissou meets a guy that is probably his son (played by Owen Wilson). To take a required digression: one of Anderson's greates talents is his comedic eye for social ridiculousness, at least when it comes to social titles. In any case, the story develops as Zissou and his crew set out to find the elusive jaguar shark.
Zissou's quest is filled with stunning (and I mean stunning) visual scenes. The light blue shirts and red hats of the crew mix beautifully with backgrounds ranging from a ship to an island. Perhaps the most beautiful part of the visuals are the made up animals that Zissou encounters, such as colorful "sugar crabs" "rainbow jellyfish," and of course the "jaguar shark." To be sure, these fantastic creatures are worth at least a small amount of analysis. I found particularly interesting that Anderson chose to use cheesy stopmotion animation to bring the imaginative creatures to life. In fact, it was almost as if Anderson wanted you to know that they were "jerky" in their movements and that he could have used sleek and smooth computer graphics, but purposely did not. What the animals do in this film is create a wonderful and exciting outside world, which is then compared to the provincial and self pitying internal character of Zissou. Indeed, all of Wes Anderson's characters, whether they be the prococious children in "The Royal Tenenbaums," or my pesonal favorite, Max Fischer, have the outside world on the proverbial string, but ultimately fail to achieve true happiness because of their inability to deal with their own inner demons.
There is where the post-modernism comes in. Just as Zissou hides is demons under a shallow, sarcastic shell, Anderson comments on the demons of the movie industry, namely cliched plots and character development, by hiding his criticisms under a sarcastic and pretentious front. This profound parody comes in three forms. First, and foremost, there is the gaudy and random dialogue. I cannot even fathom the amount of hilarious and sprawling things said in this movie, but here are a few memorable examples:
"Where did you come from; you look pregnant?"
"No, pour it in my glass. He doesn't know anything about wine."
"Let's go to my island."
"Wanna go up in my balloon?"
"Jettison that stiff on the other side of the ship"
"I broke down your door because I just wanted to flirt...I'll have an intern fix it"
"She's a rich bitch, you know...raised by maids."
"He shoots blanks, you know."
"There is a little queer in me."
Any many, many more.
The plot also has elements of post-modernism in it. Aside from the obvious fact that the plot is weird and random, one must keep in mind the character of Zissou. Again, he acts on and off his documentaries as if he is involved in a stage drama. The best example of this is when is yelling at the character that is probably his son, and then yells "Cut," when the "naturally occuring" argument has been explored to his liking on camera. Indeed, Zissou's dramatic facade and his belief that real life should be contrived for the screen evokes a sense of familiarity. In other words, Zissou acts within cliched movie patterns that we all recognize in a stupor of bizarre cinematic deju vu. The movie moves from an elitist, genteel environment in the beginning, to one of a sea adventure, then to one of a silly action flick (Steve shoots pirates and tries to rescue his friends), and then ends with a heartfelt observation on life. The sum total of Anderon's message in the plot is that life is random and is also reminiscent of many complex genres in its events.
Perhaps Anderson's best plot device of post modern thought is the fact that he never answers the question of whether Owen Wilson is actually his biological son. However, we do find out that Steve "shoots blanks" (which means impotetnt for those of you who are not familiar with the lingo). Anderson's choice to leave this question unanswered highlights the fact that character sub-plot is not only random, but also irrelevant to Zissou's internal development. In other words, it does not really matter in any real sense if Wilson was his son. Zissou obviously becomes attached to him despite the vagueness and uncertainty of his social title as "son."
Finally, Anderson's use of David Bowie sung in Porteguese perfectly captures the elemnts of the movie. Anyone who knows Bowie can recall that most of his songs are about a strange, foreign life out in the stars (Ziggy Stardust, Life on Mars, Space Oddity, etc). This soundtrack is perfect for symbolizing the characters of Zissou and his crew. They are explorers who chart the unknown and discover strange new worlds. Moreover, throughout the movie, many of the characters, especially Zissou, find (or at least rediscover) strange things within themselves. For Zissou, he rediscovers his ability internally care about his external world, which includes the person who is probably his son. As far as post-modernism, the audience hears popular Bowie songs, but in a different context, specifically in Portegeuse. As seen in all of his movies, Anderson is brilliant in evoking music to make his emotional and thematic points.
Now for the controversial interpretation: Steve Zissou is Ahab from Moby-Dick placed in a different context and consequently makes different decisions when he meets the jaguar shark. For those of you who have braved the amount of pages and complex narration of Moby-Dick, you know the basic story and maybe even some of the symbolic imagery. Essentially, a huge white whale bites the leg off a sea captain named Ahab. To get revenge on the whale, Ahab sinks into a deep madness and hunts down the whale in order to kill it. In the end, Ahab finds the whale and while stabbing at it with a harpoon perishes into the ocean blue.
The most common interpretation of Moby-Dick is that the white whale represents God and Ahab humanity. Ahab is hurt in a random and unjust act and becomes so emotionally troubeled, that we wants to find the whale and ask him why he deserved such a cruel act? In other words, Ahab is a typical nineteenth century thinker; he wants to rationalize the events of the world into one cohesive and perhaps divine whole. The best imagery of this is when he is stabbing at the whale as if he is trying to puncture through temporal facades to see what is behind it.
There are obvious connections between Moby-Dick and "The Life Aquatic." Indeed, both protagonists chase a sea creature that hurt them in some way. However, there are more subtle one's going on that are worth a consderable mention. To begin, throughout Zissou's journey, there are small snippets when the characters try to puncture through the sarcastic tough skin that Anderson covered them with. Although Zissou is a failed middle aged man who wants nothing more than to kill the jaguar shark and forget his life's failures, he also wants love. He teeters on a failed relationship with his wife, he forges a bizarre and uncharted bond with his supposed son, and learns how to properly deal with his inner anger over the death of Esteban. When Steve finally meets the jaguar shark, the movie's sarcastic banter, and Steve's inner self comes to a head. The audience is presented with a beautiful dichotomy between the shallow nature of the first three-fourths of the film and the profound part at the end.
Whereas Ahab stabs the whale at the end of Moby-Dick to find the rational answers and inevitable hand of nature and reason behind life's triumphs and tragedies, Zissou sees his shark, sheds a tear, and humbly utter,"I wonder if it remember me?" In other words, Zissou finally embraces the post-modern view of life, and comes to relaize that the events of the world are random and have no malignant or positive intentions. Zissou comes to grip with the fact that the jaguar shark did not kill Esteban in an effort to hurt him. Instead, it was just a random act of nature that needs to be understood for its beauty, not its malice. This revelation deeply affects Zissou, so much so that he leaves the screen carrying a child, which acts as the symbol another concurrent revelation: that happiness and meaning is something you create for yourself internally.
4.8
Alexander
I apologize for my long absence from the art of movie reviewing, but rest assured, Oliver Stone's "Alexander" has irresistably brought me back with a vengeance to comment on the success or failure of certain filmakers. That said, where can I begin with my review of "Alexander." HMMMM. Well, imagine that the three epic Lord of the Rings movies (totaling almost 12 hours) were condensed into one pint-sized 3 hour flick. Would there be enough time to explain the intricate alliances and conspiracies between the fellowship and various kingdoms? No. Would there be enough time to depict the Ring's allure of ultimate power? No. Finally, would there have been enough time to build to an emotional and psychological climax when the Ring was finally destroyed at the end? No. Peter Jackson was intelligent enough to space the movie out into three sections, so that its suspense grew, all facets of the story were explored or explained, and by the last movie, you had a deep understanding of the trials and tribualtions that the fellowship went through to finally destroy that damned evil trinket.Alexander was like the hypothetical Lord of the Rings movie that explained nothing, did no justice to the main characters, and left you puzzled about what happened in the first place. Forgive me if the rest of my tirade seems disjointed, but I simply cannot concentrate or direct the litany of grievances I have against Oliver Stone.
When the previews for Alexander first began appearing in late summer, I, like many of my close friends (ie. Chaz and Paul) began having proverbial wet dreams about the premise of the movie. After all, Alexander the Great fucking conquered the known world; how could any director or screenwriter screw up his story? But as I watched "Alexander," I saw the impossible become a reality. The movie about one of the greatest leaders in the history of the world was awful. Actually, let me take that comment back; it is not fair to the other movies that I refered to as "awful." Oliver Stone's Alexander was a fucking travesty, a malicious blow to the heart of history, philosophy, and art of all sorts.
To begin my systematic condemnation of the movie, let us go to the opening dialogue uttered by one of the world's greatest actors, Anthony Hopkins. We are told by his character, Ptolemy, that Alexander is one of the greatest men to ever walk the earth. The Macedonian king conquered more land and unarguably changed the course of humanity more than any other historical person. While these statements are certainly true, they created a high expectation for Oliver Stone. In effect, the director had to both depict and prove all of Alexander's wonderous accomplishments for the movie to be a success. I wanted to see what Alexander did, how hard it was, and also what drove him to such god-like lengths. Instead, I got a measly and fast-paced introduction to the short life of Alexander; he was born, his father died, he became king, he conquered Persia, he took a barbarian wife, he got his ass kicked in India, he came home to Babylon, and he was mysteriously killed by some sort of poison. According to the movie, this is all that really happened, one damn event after another. There were no transitions, no analysis, or even fucking explanations of what happened.The plot of Alexander was very much like the maps in the movie. There were medallions where Oliver Stone gave a brief (and I mean brief) examination of a milestone or battle. Between the medallions were thin squigly lines that only track without explanation where Alexander went. The medallions were few and too brief to be of any artistic or historical merit. Indeed, it seemed as though the formation of Alexander's empire was dependent on two lone battles and maybe 2 other miscellaneous events.
When the audience was not trying to figure the meaning and circumstances surrounding the assorted large events, they received a meandering historical lecture from Ptolemy on what Alexander did between his hand picked adventures. Large events like the Macedonian campaign in Egypt or the murder of Alexander's father were dealt with by a sentence or two and a confusing map that looked like it was taken from a McDonald's placemat. If I wanted to hear oversimplified narrations of Alexander's life, I could have purchased a professorial lecture or history book on CD. For the love of God, I wanted to see the hardships that Alexander's army faced; I wanted to see his slow development as a person, and most importantly, I wanted to understand the complex political intrigue that surrounded many of the events. I know Oliver Stone has a gift for causation and explanation; for crying out loud, I saw it in JFK! But that same intelligence and mastery of causation was conspicuously absent from "Alexander."
Despite the movie's massive failure of plot , explanatory power, and suspense, I thought it had three unmitigated successes. First, Angelina Jolie was smokin' hot!!! She looked absolutely incredible and gave the best performance of the film. However, her dialect which seemed to be a mixture of Russian and Spanish left me confused. Then again, the entire state of Macedonia spoke with Irish accents, so the presence of linguistic integrity waved bye bye as soon as the first character spoke. Jolie's femininity and seductive persona was in stark contrast to the latent homosexuality in the film. As funny as it may sound, I was sick and tired of Alexander tettering on the edge of bisexuality; whether he wanted a man or a woman, Alexander should have made a decision and went with it! Second, I think Oliver Stone was headed in the right direction when it came to examining Alexander's character. Some of the bizarre events involving his parents and the symbolic imagery that was used to convey Alexander's mindset (particularly the soaring eagle) was very effective. Finally, even though it took forever to get to actual battle scenes, I thought they were all very interesting, realistic, and progressive in their technique. Needless to say, it was rather impressive to see Alexander on his horse challenging an Indian soldier on an elephant.In the end, despite Jolie's sex appeal and the masterful imagery used, I felt as though I did not experience or truly appreciate Alexander's accomplishments. In an ironic twist, the movie was actually Anti-Alexander because it tried to portray one of the most memorable men in history using confusing, shallow, and instantly forgettable scenes. Perhaps the most disturbing aspect of the movie was the fact that it could have been so much better. If Stone made two 3 hour movies and gave detailed accounts and developments of what happened to Alexander, it could have been a phenomenal picture.
After seeing the movie and asking myself how he could let it be so bad, I suspect that Oliver Stone was trying to liken himself to Alexander. Both men took on massive projects and ultimately succumbed to their own respective vices of destructive ambition and the overextension of his prowess. However, the only difference is that Alexander will be remembered for his many noble successes and failures, while Oliver Stone and his catastrophe of a movie will be forgotten either out of emotional necessity or through its absurd existential nature.
2.0 (and that's only for Angelina Jolie's two breasts!)
Fahrenheit 9/11
I became excited when I learned Michael Moore's new movie was being released in a nearby theater because I enjoy his controversial foibles. His last installment, "Bowling For Columbine," was a very entertaining film that sparked much debate about violence in the United States. To be sure, I disagree with Michael Moore's political agenda, but I respect him as an excellent muckraking filmmaker. Getting tickets to see Fahrenheit 9/11 was harder than expected. The movie sold out all of the shows on opening day. Despite the difficulty, I remembered those annoying talking bags from Fandango, so I got tickets online for $11 each, a price that screams ripoff.
When I arrived at the theater, I was shocked at the people waiting to see the movie. Michael Moore has officially moved up from "B-movie" maker to a major national icon. I felt like I was going to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show; people were dressed up in both pro and anti Bush garb, while others proudly displayed rainbows and butch haircuts. Frankly, even before I saw the movie, I was impressed with Moore's position in American culture, which is the resident political upstart. He has defintely succeeded in getting the public stirred up about important issues.
Fahrenheit 9/11 is a masterful and effective work of political propoganda. If Moore is talented at one thing, it is arousing emotions in people so it clouds their judgement. The movie began in an artsy fashion with haunting music in the background showing various members of the Bush administration getting makeup applied to them in an effort to complete their fake persona for the public. I must hand it to Michael Moore; his techniques and style as a filmmaker have become excellent. Moore showed footage of the 2000 election and began his narration: "Was it all a dream? Did this really happen?" He discussed the confusion of the election and how the television networks predicted Gore and then chnaged to Bush shortly after Fox News began reporting Bush as the winner. By this Moore facetiously meant that Fox News is a conservative TV station that favored Bush, a Republican, and somehow that it changed the outcome of the election. Hmmm I guess our government has abolished the electoral college. Despite the apparent ridculousness of this assertion, Moore's point that 2000 election was fishy and divisive in this country was well taken.
Moore spent several minutes bashing the stupidity and ineptness of George W. Bush. He argued that before 9/11, Bush spent 46% of his time on vacation in Florida and Texas. Moore then beautifully portrayed the events of 9/11 by leaving only a blank screen with the sounds of airplanes crashing into buildings. I appreciated that Moore resisted showing the clips of 9/11 in an effort to buy cheap sympathy. In my favorite part of the film, Moore somehow obtained a video of George W. Bush reading a children's book to a Kindergarten class. As Bush was sitting in the classroom, an advisor came to tell him that two planes had just hit the World Trade Center and Pentagon. The look on Bush's face was one of terror and incomprehension.
Moore then narrated, "What must he have been thinking about? Maybe that I am not qualified to handle this grown-up situation? Maybe that I should have read my CIA briefs?" This hilarious part of the movie was worth the ticket price alone. However funny the situation with Bush, the inner conservative demon inside of me spewed forth and asked, "What would you have done in his situation Michael Moore, except exaclaim, "the world is ending" and run for the nearest Cinnabon for one last indulgence?" Moore then jumped to another interesting but semi-truthful fact that the Bush family are long time business associates with Saudis and even the Bin Laden Family. He also discussed how Bush flew the entire Bin laden family and about another 100 or so Saudis out of the country right after 9/11. According to Moore, this emphatically shows that Bush botched the investigation of 9/11 in an attempt to protect his Saudi business interests. OK Michael Moore, you made the connection between Bush and Saudi oil money, but the mere presence of a connection does not also mean that Bush is negatively affecting American interests. Moore defintely failed to establish exactly why Bush would favor his own interests over America's. By his own logic, I could infer that since Moore's film was released by Lions Gate Films, who has a stake in Lockheed Martin (the biggest weapons maker in the country), that Moore actually supports the war in Iraq. Sadly, the above assertion was the last part of this film that would be a somewhat fair and balanced argument.
Like many of Michael Moore's films, Fahrenheit 9/11 began with a useful and believable premise: that the war in Iraq was an ill-conceived and poorly fought war. However, true to his past flms, Moore slithers away from his premise and begins to insert his liberal agenda into the mix. The first abomination was Moore's assertion, or rather the assertion of his cutting room floor antics, that ALL soldiers in Iraq hate the war. Now come on!! Michael Moore can trick me into thinking Bush was influenced by Saudi money; he may even trick me with his ghastly appearance that I mistakingly went to see "Super Size Me," but he will not convince me that a majority, let alone all, troops are against the war. Moore showed scene after scene of gruesome war footage. You know the kind: bombs detonating, children screaming, corpses lying motionless. Thank you Michael Moore for changing my conceptions of what happens during a war. I always thought it was more a battle of chess where generals strategically place troops and missles in certain locations, but I never imagined people died or were hurt in wars!
After the above lesson in war, Michael Moore dropped the biggest bomb of the film. He argued that the Armed Forces consistently recruits people from lower class neighborhoods (like his home shitburg of Flint, Michigan), which clearly shows that the government is out to kill the poor. For the massive surface area that Michael Moore encompasses, one would think that some of it would include brain cells. First, it is not the government that causes poverty you fat fuck, it is the very structure of capitalism that creates haves and have nots. The system is imperfect, but it is alot better than being communists or Nazis. If socialist swine Michael Moore wants to talk about inequities, let us now be magically transported to Stalinist Russia or Hitler's Germany. Put simply, capitalism is the best and most fair economic system in the world today, so Michael Moore better get used to it and stop blaming everything else under the sun for poverty. Second, it is beyond me how Moore can bitch about the massive unemployment in this country, yet be against the military recruitment of the poor. News to Moore: the military employs hundreds of thousands of people! In addition, I for one think it is a good idea to get some of the hoodrats off the street and into tanks. The more lower class criminals we take off the street, the safer this country will be.
As if Moore's liberal bullshit-mongering were not enough, he also included, for a signifigant section of the film, a mother weeping uncontrollably over her son's death in Iraq. This, in a nutshell, is the bread and butter of Moore's films; he appeals to your emotions while clouding your rational judgement. Of course people are going to die in the war! What did the mother expect? If your job entails you getting shot at, dropping bombs, or flying helicopters, chances are considerable that you might die. One, or even a few deaths, is not enough to convince me that war is always unecessary.
By the end of the movie, I was exhausted by the amount of things that frustrated me. However, I can still respect Michael Moore's passionate filmaking, and his place as a political upstart to begin debates about important issues. Honestly, I am glad that someone is out there causing people to think about politics, and it is for that reason that this film, despite being ridiculous propoganda, deserves a modicum of respect.
4.9
The Day After Tomorrow
As I finished watching this movie on a blustery Tuesday, I could not help but wish, in retrospect, that in fact it was the day after tomorrow because then I would have not seen the movie at all. Against popular conceptions formed by Noam Chomsky, there is a liberal slant in the media. Nothing like a diaster movie brings out the liberal environmentalists from the woodwork to bitch and complain that this world is being destroyed for our children. In the words of the eminent George Carlin, "Fuck the Children."
The movie begins with three scientists conveniently positioned on a breaking iceberg. The weather begins to show massive shifts, the likes of which baffle conservative scientists, Anne Coultier, and people with sizable brains. The liberals begin almost immediately to train people in experimental meteorology and throw several buzz words out so that people could start to repeat them. What causes massive weather shifting you ask? Why global warming, tidal streams, and desalinization, of course! After all this bullshit was over, the only buzzword I could recall was deneuralization.
Before we are even introduced to the storms that will cause the next ice age, we are shown another diaster: the acting between a negligient father (the crazy scientist who predicts the problems)and his bohemian son. As if that emotional garbage were not enough, the son falls madly in love with a girl right before the weather shifts. Thus, the icebergs were not the only things to melt in this picture, as my heart was also warmed with every moment of true love.
Tempatures began dropping, seas began boiling, and tornados touched down in Los Angeles only to destroy the entire city, a section of the film I actually enjoyed. Now even though I thought the president, hell even the federal government, had expert advisors on weather conditions, this movie makes it seem like it's up to one lunatic scientist to convince the vice president, who is depicted as an asshole, that the seemingly mild weather conditions are in fact a modicum of the larger weather system liberals had predicted to destroy the world ions ago. Ladies and Gentlemen, I was wrong! Stop using hairspray and styrofoam! You bastards are leading to a massive ice age that will strangle the earth in a matter of hours.
Moving on to a progression of fucking ridiculous plot concepts, the crazy scientist warns his boy to stay in New York City, despite telling everyone else to move down South into their own deaths via the storm. See, I knew it. No matter how much anyone claims to be liberal, they always think of their lineage when it counts. In a matter of hours, a tidal wave crashes into New York City only to freeze over into icebergs shortly thereafter. Well, apparently two planes crashing into two buildings killing 3000 people was not entertaining enough for the Big Apple. As time goes on, the crazy scientist discovers that the eye of the storm, which is historically the most calm section in hurricanes, produces temperatures of 150 below zero. He explains that the air moves too quickly through the earth's atmosphere to warm up. But that notion is proven to be bullshit in a few moments as that very scientist "outruns" air that is too fast to warm up but too slow to catch a fatigued human being.
The story then picks up as escaped wolves, ravenously hungry after a long forty five minutes of not eating, attack a group of people. But wait liberals, I thought nature was our friend! I thought if we stopped polluting the environment, then we would live in perfect harmony with mother earth. Well, who knew nature operated by survival of the fittest?
Even though the screen was darkened by massive cloud cover, it was still illuminated with some great acting, such as the token atheist who refuses to burn books which act as his higher being. Holding a Guttenberg bible, the atheist explains, "Without books, civilzation would be lost." Bullshit. There are plenty of books this world could do without including the bible. The other character I also loved was the bum who had a dog. Now, let's just think for a second. Why the hell would a bum keep a dog, knowing that the dog would need to share some of his meager supplies of food? Is this really what liberals think bums are: happy-go-lucky fish out of water types? The bum also showed the group how to wrap themselves in newspaper to keep warm. Indeed, I was convinced by this movie that all people are useful, even if they are drug addicted or alcoholic. Despite the group's refusal to burn books, the crazy scientist's son and his cronies all survive the storm that killed everyone else. Not to be outdone, the father implausibly walked 200 miles on hundreds of feet of snow to meet his son in New York. Love can conquer all, even logical reasoning.
The ending of this movie was simply glorious. The United States moves most of its citizens to Mexico by making a deal to forgive Mexican debt, a huge hot button by this point. The President dies and the vice president, the same asshole that refused to listen to well thought out liberal ideas says to a candid world,"We thought we could adamantly burn our fossil fuels without consequence. We were wrong. Countries that we once looked down on as 'third world' are now hosting us... and we salute them." I almost fell over in my seat. Ok then, enjoy living in an "equal country" where you will have to fight off warlords, pick bananas, and kill dictators to ensure change. On the way out of the theater, I saw the poster for "The Day After Tomorrow." It asked, "Where will you be?" In the end, you can be on the highest of mountains or in the deepest of canyons, just make sure you are nowhere near the theater.
3.2 (because it had good special effects and made me laugh)
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
Like most people, I have been a fan of the Harry Potter movies starting with Sorcerer's Stone all the way to the Chamber of Secrets. What's not to like about these movies? They are about a collection of children who attend the most prestigious school imaginable. Rest assured, I have already submitted my application to Hogwarts for an MPhil in Dark Arts. I trust that since Hogwarts has affirmative action, I can still be admitted despite being a mudblood. There is one minor aspect of these movies that has irked me: People constantly blather to me that the books are better, and that I should read them. Let's get something straight, I may lower myself to watch children's movies, but I'll be damned if I will habitually read children's books. I can see myself now, sitting in a Starbucks with my mocha latte flirting with an attractive girl as I leaf through the "Cat in the Hat." She raises an eye at me and I make conversation by informing her that "in this one he comes back."
Despite my affinity for the Harry Potter movies, I was very disappointed with this third installment for a couple of reasons. First, and foremost, who the hell was the enemy in this movie? I cannot even communicate my disaapointment when I found out that Sirius Black was a good guy! I wanted him to slowly torment Harry psychologically, and then at the end have a final showdown. The dementors, although really entertaining to watch, were not all bad either. Sure they tried to suck the life out of Harry's soul, but they were looking for an escaped felon. By the end of the movie, right after that ill-conceived battle between two werewolves, I found myself longing for Lord Voldemort. The next Harry Potter movie better have a huge fucking climax where Harry and the one whose name we shant speak beat the shit out of each other.
Second, the acting in this movie was vomit inducing, When Harry, Ron, and Hermione were kids, their naive personalities were whimsical and enchanting. In the third movie, all of the kids have hit their awkward teenage years. Hermione is finding it difficult to run because of her new assets, Ron has discovered that his freakish facial contortions are not quite so cute anymore, and Harry has realized that it is not enough to look like Harry Potter; he actually has to act too. Worst of all, Malfoy has been transformed from my personal hero into a puddle of tears. In the first two movies, Malfoy utilized his power of wealth and patronage to undermine Harry along with unwanted mudbloods. In contrast, the third movie presents Malfoy as a weak sissy, a portryal that almost made me walk out of the theater. I know that Harry Potter is of the fantasy genre, but making old money ineffective is just too unbelievable. Finally, what the hell happened to Ron? I knew he is supposed to be poor, but he was like a fucking hippie walking around with his unkempt hair and berlap sacks he called clothes. I predict in the the next movie that Ron will discover weed, or the magical equivalant, and fail out of Hogwarts, so he has to live with Hagrid and make soap to support his meth addiction. Well, maybe thats wrong, perhaps he'll go right for the hardcore shit and start drinking unicorn blood. Whatever his poison, I see hemp necklaces, The Grateful Dead, and nonsensical political beliefs for Ron in the future.
Besides the lack of an interesting plot, I was also amazed at how the administrators at Hogwarts keep their positions. As I said in a review of the second movie, if the faculty at Hogwarts worked in the real world, they would be out on their fat, magical asses a long time ago. Hiding deadly sorcerer stones in an area with children, permitting garguantuan snakes to roam around the plumbing, and encouraging hormonal teens to go back in time to defeat dangerous enemies would have landed Dumbeldore and possibly the Dean of Students in jail. Hogwarts should start a law school and train someone to be the school's general counsel because the lawyers like werewolves are circling in the woods not far away.
The only thing that saved this movie from a dismal review was the directing. The new director made the third movie as dark as a Tim Burton film, which I enjoyed. In the end, I felt as if a dementor had approached me in the theater and began suckling on all my happiness. Indeed, the movie should have been called Harry Potter and the PRISONERS of Azkaban, as I felt confined by bordem and joyless indifference.
3.0
The Stepford Wives
After a long day of defending criminals, my heart desired nothing more then to relish in the fantastic and whimsical world of Shrek 2. However, Erin, who apparently like the Vatican holds a kind of unofficial political power over me, demanded that we see The Stepford Wives. Before I even get into the movie, allow me to comment on the pre-feature presentation events. Call me old fashioned, but I seem to remember when movies had no commercials. But now, a movie is preceeded by more than ten minutes of tasteless drivel that would make even the most basic carbon composed life form beg for heavenly mercy. My favorite one has to be the Coke commercial. Why in the hell does the Coca-Cola company insist on advertising in a movie theater that probably has a monopolistic contract with Coke anyway? Besides, I think I can safely say that my soft drink preference has been solidified. It is not as if one day I will break down the monkish doors of ignorance and proclaim to an awaiting crowd: "I have changed from Pepsi to Coke!" That piece of useless garbage was followed by the zany Six Flags commercial, which clearly depicts a woman adorned in a geriatric body suit. Last time I followed a dancing old man into a bus, I came out with several systematically placed cigar burns and a fear of bananas. Finally, to end the commerical tour-de-force, I was subjected, much like the main character in A Clockwork Orange, to a grueling spectacle involving the Fanta whores. I doubt that I will ever be able to erase the image of neon latinas dancing frantically and singing that damn Fanta song. To the marketing genius who wrote that Pavlovian nightmare: I want my fucking neurons back. On a brief side note, I was very excited to see a preview for Oliver Stone's "Alexander!"
On to the movie: The Stepford Wives is a remake of a 1975 film about husbands who mysteriously seem to manufacture perfect wives. The plot intrigued my raging misogyny, however, as I would quickly find out, the story of men plotting to squash overachieving women into lowly housewives would be a better social suggestion than it would a film. Moreover, the only true robots I witnessed were the one's in the audience who continued to sit and watch this shitfest of a film. After Nicole Kidman gets fired as CEO of a television network, she goes insane. The family moves to a Connecticut town called Stepford, where women are perfect, and the men are happy. Despite this town-wide bliss, there are three suprising outcasts: a woman with professional goals(Kidman), a writer played by the octagonally shaped Bette Midler, and a flaming, stereotypically portrayed homosexual. It is worth a momentary pause to reflect this film's conception of homosexuality. Apparently, all gay men love christmas ornaments, pastels, baked goods, and designer clothes. What makes the gay man an outcast in the movie is his flaming homosexuality. Silly me: Gay people don't want to be integrated into society, they want to be treated like commodities. Well thanks Stepford Wives, next time I see a gay man on the street, I won't treat him like an equal, I'll pinch his ass and yell like the dickens.
By the time all of these engineered misfits were introduced, I was concentrating on particles floating in the theater and silently bitching about my Erin-induced imprisonment. My ears did perk up, however, when Bette Midler said at a Christmas gathering "I could put a pine cone on the end of my vibrator and have a really Merry Chrristmas" Well screeenwriters, you have really outdone yourselves. Pat yourself on the back and have a Fanta on me.
All three of the women, excuse me, the two women and the gay man were eventually kidnapped and "enhanced" by a terrorist like group of jealous men who were sick of being second to their brilliant wives. Ok hold it. Since when have men, the creatures which control this world, ever bitched about overachieving women? See, this is what the feminist movement has produced: the illusion that somehow women have gotten so powerful that men have to gain power by modifying their ever so giant brains.
Speaking of brains, let us now be transported to the end where the plot really gets interesting. Apparently we find out that although Kidman's husband initially wanted her to become a robot, his testicles ascended up into his abdomen and he chickens out. The husband, played by the inoffensive and dickless Mathhew Broderick, somehow figures out a compliacted computer system and shuts down the mind control machinery. Oh but wait! Just when you thought you knew the point of this movie, you find out that it was a woman who created this town. As she explained, "I was once like you (that is an overachieving bitch). I was the world's foremost brain surgeon." WOW! Not only was she a surgeon, but a brain surgeon, the most complicated of all the medical fields! The woman laments about the dying aristocratic concept of housewivery, and proceeds to kiss her robot husband only to electrify herself. Keep in mind that brain surgeons have an intimate knowledge of computer technology and electrical engineering, but not the sense to keep away from a sparking live wire. Although I sympathized with the woman's cries for the way things were before feminism, I had to sink in my chair a little lower because this movie was no longer about a man's disbolical vision to put women in their rightful places, but a sorrowful parody of a dying breed.
1.0
Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story
Well, what can I say about this movie? It was so stupid, so ridiculous, and so childish that it actually was mildly entertaining. It was like those old Looney Tunes shorts where Wiley Coyote would dig a hole so far down that he would end up in China. Indeed, this movie was so bad, it was good. The basic plotline is even stupid. There's this guy played by Vince Vaughn who owns a gym called "Average Joes." He is a lazy businessman who doesn't even collect the membership fees from his customers. But, despite his failure in the gym business, he manages to be a good person. AWWW!
Anyway, he finds out from a banker, aptly played by the anorexic Christine Taylor from Nickolodeon's "Hey Dude," that his gym is in debt and will be sold to a competing gym owned by Ben Stiller. In a stroke of brilliance, the overweight dorks of Average Joes discover that they could win the necessary money to buy back the gym if they enter a dodgeball tournament. Ben Stiller's gym hears of the plan, and decides to comfound the aspirations of Average Joes by entering the tournament as well.
The aspect of this movie that made it tolerable was the excessiveness of the characters. Ben Stiller played the only character that he can play (or has ever played): an unbelievably stupid asshole that engages in a level of dialogue comparable to a first grader's. However stupid the idea, I did enjoy Stiller's stupid, circular one liners and handle-bar moustache. Also, as if taken from an acid trip, one character thought he was a pirate to the point where he dressed and talked like a swashbuckler throughout the film. This bizarre concept made me laugh just for its applied ridiculousness. In the end, if you want to go to the movies, not think, laugh at mindless physical comedy, giggle at nonsensical one-liners, and witness an experience of crude humor, this movie is for you!
3.2
I am not going to hide the fact that I think Wes Anderson is a genius. His movies, which include "Rushmore" and "The Royal Tenenbaums" are among the wittiest, best directed, and most enjoyable films that I have ever seen. What is great about Anderson is not only his sense of comedy and tragedy, but also his attention to detail. Recently, I bought the Criterion Collection DVD of "The Royal Tenenbaums," which came with a small insert of Wes Anderson's drawings of his stage sets and costumes. Indeed, those of you who are fans can attest that every frame of film is color coordinated and meticiously crafted to convey a theme or idea. I awaited the release of "The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou" from the very day I read that it was in production. I mean, come on: Bill Murray stars in an epic sea adventure around the world!
Put simply, "The Life Aquatic" is a post-modern masterpiece. Ironically, it is a film that scoffs at other current films. More interestingly, it is a modern retelling of Herman Melville's Moby-Dick. Now, I know what you are thinking; I just said a mouthful. To say that this film is post-modern and connected to Moby-Dick evokes loaded, even cliched ideas. However, I have come prepared. To make sure that I understood the movie, and also just out of pure enjoyment, I saw the movie twice. I would like to examine each of my statements individually, and make some side comments in between about other parts of Anderson's achievement.
First, there is the post-modernism. When I read the reviews for "The Life Aquatic," specifically Roger Ebert's, I knew that the film was going to be highly experimental and artsy. Even though I find myself agreeing with Ebert on so many movies (Lost in Translation, etc) I know that he often misses the underlying beauty and commentary of some movies. With "The Life Aquatic," Ebert fails to see the mocking undertone of what Anderson was trying to do. Instead, the fat man judges the movie as if it were in a vacuum. That is the central problem Ebert makes; he overlooks the fact that the unifying principle in all Wes Anderson movies is that art mimicks life and life, in turn, mimicks art. Let's dive into what I mean (no pun intended).
"The Life Aquatic" centers around Steve Zissoun an aging, maybe evn washed up oceanographer. However, Zissou's character is more than that synopsis. He is an artist who documents his sea adventures on film in very colorful and contrived documentaries. This is key. Throughout the movie, Zissou acts as if he is in an ongoing drama both in his professional and personal life. That said, here is the basic plot: During one of his routine film projects, Steve and his friend Esteban are attacked by a huge unidentified animal known as a "jaguar shark." Esteban is eaten and Zissou, though tramuatized, lives to tell the tale. As his next project, Zissou plans to hunt down the shark that kills Esteban and kill it. To throw things into the mix, Zissou meets a guy that is probably his son (played by Owen Wilson). To take a required digression: one of Anderson's greates talents is his comedic eye for social ridiculousness, at least when it comes to social titles. In any case, the story develops as Zissou and his crew set out to find the elusive jaguar shark.
Zissou's quest is filled with stunning (and I mean stunning) visual scenes. The light blue shirts and red hats of the crew mix beautifully with backgrounds ranging from a ship to an island. Perhaps the most beautiful part of the visuals are the made up animals that Zissou encounters, such as colorful "sugar crabs" "rainbow jellyfish," and of course the "jaguar shark." To be sure, these fantastic creatures are worth at least a small amount of analysis. I found particularly interesting that Anderson chose to use cheesy stopmotion animation to bring the imaginative creatures to life. In fact, it was almost as if Anderson wanted you to know that they were "jerky" in their movements and that he could have used sleek and smooth computer graphics, but purposely did not. What the animals do in this film is create a wonderful and exciting outside world, which is then compared to the provincial and self pitying internal character of Zissou. Indeed, all of Wes Anderson's characters, whether they be the prococious children in "The Royal Tenenbaums," or my pesonal favorite, Max Fischer, have the outside world on the proverbial string, but ultimately fail to achieve true happiness because of their inability to deal with their own inner demons.
There is where the post-modernism comes in. Just as Zissou hides is demons under a shallow, sarcastic shell, Anderson comments on the demons of the movie industry, namely cliched plots and character development, by hiding his criticisms under a sarcastic and pretentious front. This profound parody comes in three forms. First, and foremost, there is the gaudy and random dialogue. I cannot even fathom the amount of hilarious and sprawling things said in this movie, but here are a few memorable examples:
"Where did you come from; you look pregnant?"
"No, pour it in my glass. He doesn't know anything about wine."
"Let's go to my island."
"Wanna go up in my balloon?"
"Jettison that stiff on the other side of the ship"
"I broke down your door because I just wanted to flirt...I'll have an intern fix it"
"She's a rich bitch, you know...raised by maids."
"He shoots blanks, you know."
"There is a little queer in me."
Any many, many more.
The plot also has elements of post-modernism in it. Aside from the obvious fact that the plot is weird and random, one must keep in mind the character of Zissou. Again, he acts on and off his documentaries as if he is involved in a stage drama. The best example of this is when is yelling at the character that is probably his son, and then yells "Cut," when the "naturally occuring" argument has been explored to his liking on camera. Indeed, Zissou's dramatic facade and his belief that real life should be contrived for the screen evokes a sense of familiarity. In other words, Zissou acts within cliched movie patterns that we all recognize in a stupor of bizarre cinematic deju vu. The movie moves from an elitist, genteel environment in the beginning, to one of a sea adventure, then to one of a silly action flick (Steve shoots pirates and tries to rescue his friends), and then ends with a heartfelt observation on life. The sum total of Anderon's message in the plot is that life is random and is also reminiscent of many complex genres in its events.
Perhaps Anderson's best plot device of post modern thought is the fact that he never answers the question of whether Owen Wilson is actually his biological son. However, we do find out that Steve "shoots blanks" (which means impotetnt for those of you who are not familiar with the lingo). Anderson's choice to leave this question unanswered highlights the fact that character sub-plot is not only random, but also irrelevant to Zissou's internal development. In other words, it does not really matter in any real sense if Wilson was his son. Zissou obviously becomes attached to him despite the vagueness and uncertainty of his social title as "son."
Finally, Anderson's use of David Bowie sung in Porteguese perfectly captures the elemnts of the movie. Anyone who knows Bowie can recall that most of his songs are about a strange, foreign life out in the stars (Ziggy Stardust, Life on Mars, Space Oddity, etc). This soundtrack is perfect for symbolizing the characters of Zissou and his crew. They are explorers who chart the unknown and discover strange new worlds. Moreover, throughout the movie, many of the characters, especially Zissou, find (or at least rediscover) strange things within themselves. For Zissou, he rediscovers his ability internally care about his external world, which includes the person who is probably his son. As far as post-modernism, the audience hears popular Bowie songs, but in a different context, specifically in Portegeuse. As seen in all of his movies, Anderson is brilliant in evoking music to make his emotional and thematic points.
Now for the controversial interpretation: Steve Zissou is Ahab from Moby-Dick placed in a different context and consequently makes different decisions when he meets the jaguar shark. For those of you who have braved the amount of pages and complex narration of Moby-Dick, you know the basic story and maybe even some of the symbolic imagery. Essentially, a huge white whale bites the leg off a sea captain named Ahab. To get revenge on the whale, Ahab sinks into a deep madness and hunts down the whale in order to kill it. In the end, Ahab finds the whale and while stabbing at it with a harpoon perishes into the ocean blue.
The most common interpretation of Moby-Dick is that the white whale represents God and Ahab humanity. Ahab is hurt in a random and unjust act and becomes so emotionally troubeled, that we wants to find the whale and ask him why he deserved such a cruel act? In other words, Ahab is a typical nineteenth century thinker; he wants to rationalize the events of the world into one cohesive and perhaps divine whole. The best imagery of this is when he is stabbing at the whale as if he is trying to puncture through temporal facades to see what is behind it.
There are obvious connections between Moby-Dick and "The Life Aquatic." Indeed, both protagonists chase a sea creature that hurt them in some way. However, there are more subtle one's going on that are worth a consderable mention. To begin, throughout Zissou's journey, there are small snippets when the characters try to puncture through the sarcastic tough skin that Anderson covered them with. Although Zissou is a failed middle aged man who wants nothing more than to kill the jaguar shark and forget his life's failures, he also wants love. He teeters on a failed relationship with his wife, he forges a bizarre and uncharted bond with his supposed son, and learns how to properly deal with his inner anger over the death of Esteban. When Steve finally meets the jaguar shark, the movie's sarcastic banter, and Steve's inner self comes to a head. The audience is presented with a beautiful dichotomy between the shallow nature of the first three-fourths of the film and the profound part at the end.
Whereas Ahab stabs the whale at the end of Moby-Dick to find the rational answers and inevitable hand of nature and reason behind life's triumphs and tragedies, Zissou sees his shark, sheds a tear, and humbly utter,"I wonder if it remember me?" In other words, Zissou finally embraces the post-modern view of life, and comes to relaize that the events of the world are random and have no malignant or positive intentions. Zissou comes to grip with the fact that the jaguar shark did not kill Esteban in an effort to hurt him. Instead, it was just a random act of nature that needs to be understood for its beauty, not its malice. This revelation deeply affects Zissou, so much so that he leaves the screen carrying a child, which acts as the symbol another concurrent revelation: that happiness and meaning is something you create for yourself internally.
4.8
Alexander
I apologize for my long absence from the art of movie reviewing, but rest assured, Oliver Stone's "Alexander" has irresistably brought me back with a vengeance to comment on the success or failure of certain filmakers. That said, where can I begin with my review of "Alexander." HMMMM. Well, imagine that the three epic Lord of the Rings movies (totaling almost 12 hours) were condensed into one pint-sized 3 hour flick. Would there be enough time to explain the intricate alliances and conspiracies between the fellowship and various kingdoms? No. Would there be enough time to depict the Ring's allure of ultimate power? No. Finally, would there have been enough time to build to an emotional and psychological climax when the Ring was finally destroyed at the end? No. Peter Jackson was intelligent enough to space the movie out into three sections, so that its suspense grew, all facets of the story were explored or explained, and by the last movie, you had a deep understanding of the trials and tribualtions that the fellowship went through to finally destroy that damned evil trinket.Alexander was like the hypothetical Lord of the Rings movie that explained nothing, did no justice to the main characters, and left you puzzled about what happened in the first place. Forgive me if the rest of my tirade seems disjointed, but I simply cannot concentrate or direct the litany of grievances I have against Oliver Stone.
When the previews for Alexander first began appearing in late summer, I, like many of my close friends (ie. Chaz and Paul) began having proverbial wet dreams about the premise of the movie. After all, Alexander the Great fucking conquered the known world; how could any director or screenwriter screw up his story? But as I watched "Alexander," I saw the impossible become a reality. The movie about one of the greatest leaders in the history of the world was awful. Actually, let me take that comment back; it is not fair to the other movies that I refered to as "awful." Oliver Stone's Alexander was a fucking travesty, a malicious blow to the heart of history, philosophy, and art of all sorts.
To begin my systematic condemnation of the movie, let us go to the opening dialogue uttered by one of the world's greatest actors, Anthony Hopkins. We are told by his character, Ptolemy, that Alexander is one of the greatest men to ever walk the earth. The Macedonian king conquered more land and unarguably changed the course of humanity more than any other historical person. While these statements are certainly true, they created a high expectation for Oliver Stone. In effect, the director had to both depict and prove all of Alexander's wonderous accomplishments for the movie to be a success. I wanted to see what Alexander did, how hard it was, and also what drove him to such god-like lengths. Instead, I got a measly and fast-paced introduction to the short life of Alexander; he was born, his father died, he became king, he conquered Persia, he took a barbarian wife, he got his ass kicked in India, he came home to Babylon, and he was mysteriously killed by some sort of poison. According to the movie, this is all that really happened, one damn event after another. There were no transitions, no analysis, or even fucking explanations of what happened.The plot of Alexander was very much like the maps in the movie. There were medallions where Oliver Stone gave a brief (and I mean brief) examination of a milestone or battle. Between the medallions were thin squigly lines that only track without explanation where Alexander went. The medallions were few and too brief to be of any artistic or historical merit. Indeed, it seemed as though the formation of Alexander's empire was dependent on two lone battles and maybe 2 other miscellaneous events.
When the audience was not trying to figure the meaning and circumstances surrounding the assorted large events, they received a meandering historical lecture from Ptolemy on what Alexander did between his hand picked adventures. Large events like the Macedonian campaign in Egypt or the murder of Alexander's father were dealt with by a sentence or two and a confusing map that looked like it was taken from a McDonald's placemat. If I wanted to hear oversimplified narrations of Alexander's life, I could have purchased a professorial lecture or history book on CD. For the love of God, I wanted to see the hardships that Alexander's army faced; I wanted to see his slow development as a person, and most importantly, I wanted to understand the complex political intrigue that surrounded many of the events. I know Oliver Stone has a gift for causation and explanation; for crying out loud, I saw it in JFK! But that same intelligence and mastery of causation was conspicuously absent from "Alexander."
Despite the movie's massive failure of plot , explanatory power, and suspense, I thought it had three unmitigated successes. First, Angelina Jolie was smokin' hot!!! She looked absolutely incredible and gave the best performance of the film. However, her dialect which seemed to be a mixture of Russian and Spanish left me confused. Then again, the entire state of Macedonia spoke with Irish accents, so the presence of linguistic integrity waved bye bye as soon as the first character spoke. Jolie's femininity and seductive persona was in stark contrast to the latent homosexuality in the film. As funny as it may sound, I was sick and tired of Alexander tettering on the edge of bisexuality; whether he wanted a man or a woman, Alexander should have made a decision and went with it! Second, I think Oliver Stone was headed in the right direction when it came to examining Alexander's character. Some of the bizarre events involving his parents and the symbolic imagery that was used to convey Alexander's mindset (particularly the soaring eagle) was very effective. Finally, even though it took forever to get to actual battle scenes, I thought they were all very interesting, realistic, and progressive in their technique. Needless to say, it was rather impressive to see Alexander on his horse challenging an Indian soldier on an elephant.In the end, despite Jolie's sex appeal and the masterful imagery used, I felt as though I did not experience or truly appreciate Alexander's accomplishments. In an ironic twist, the movie was actually Anti-Alexander because it tried to portray one of the most memorable men in history using confusing, shallow, and instantly forgettable scenes. Perhaps the most disturbing aspect of the movie was the fact that it could have been so much better. If Stone made two 3 hour movies and gave detailed accounts and developments of what happened to Alexander, it could have been a phenomenal picture.
After seeing the movie and asking myself how he could let it be so bad, I suspect that Oliver Stone was trying to liken himself to Alexander. Both men took on massive projects and ultimately succumbed to their own respective vices of destructive ambition and the overextension of his prowess. However, the only difference is that Alexander will be remembered for his many noble successes and failures, while Oliver Stone and his catastrophe of a movie will be forgotten either out of emotional necessity or through its absurd existential nature.
2.0 (and that's only for Angelina Jolie's two breasts!)
Fahrenheit 9/11
I became excited when I learned Michael Moore's new movie was being released in a nearby theater because I enjoy his controversial foibles. His last installment, "Bowling For Columbine," was a very entertaining film that sparked much debate about violence in the United States. To be sure, I disagree with Michael Moore's political agenda, but I respect him as an excellent muckraking filmmaker. Getting tickets to see Fahrenheit 9/11 was harder than expected. The movie sold out all of the shows on opening day. Despite the difficulty, I remembered those annoying talking bags from Fandango, so I got tickets online for $11 each, a price that screams ripoff.
When I arrived at the theater, I was shocked at the people waiting to see the movie. Michael Moore has officially moved up from "B-movie" maker to a major national icon. I felt like I was going to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show; people were dressed up in both pro and anti Bush garb, while others proudly displayed rainbows and butch haircuts. Frankly, even before I saw the movie, I was impressed with Moore's position in American culture, which is the resident political upstart. He has defintely succeeded in getting the public stirred up about important issues.
Fahrenheit 9/11 is a masterful and effective work of political propoganda. If Moore is talented at one thing, it is arousing emotions in people so it clouds their judgement. The movie began in an artsy fashion with haunting music in the background showing various members of the Bush administration getting makeup applied to them in an effort to complete their fake persona for the public. I must hand it to Michael Moore; his techniques and style as a filmmaker have become excellent. Moore showed footage of the 2000 election and began his narration: "Was it all a dream? Did this really happen?" He discussed the confusion of the election and how the television networks predicted Gore and then chnaged to Bush shortly after Fox News began reporting Bush as the winner. By this Moore facetiously meant that Fox News is a conservative TV station that favored Bush, a Republican, and somehow that it changed the outcome of the election. Hmmm I guess our government has abolished the electoral college. Despite the apparent ridculousness of this assertion, Moore's point that 2000 election was fishy and divisive in this country was well taken.
Moore spent several minutes bashing the stupidity and ineptness of George W. Bush. He argued that before 9/11, Bush spent 46% of his time on vacation in Florida and Texas. Moore then beautifully portrayed the events of 9/11 by leaving only a blank screen with the sounds of airplanes crashing into buildings. I appreciated that Moore resisted showing the clips of 9/11 in an effort to buy cheap sympathy. In my favorite part of the film, Moore somehow obtained a video of George W. Bush reading a children's book to a Kindergarten class. As Bush was sitting in the classroom, an advisor came to tell him that two planes had just hit the World Trade Center and Pentagon. The look on Bush's face was one of terror and incomprehension.
Moore then narrated, "What must he have been thinking about? Maybe that I am not qualified to handle this grown-up situation? Maybe that I should have read my CIA briefs?" This hilarious part of the movie was worth the ticket price alone. However funny the situation with Bush, the inner conservative demon inside of me spewed forth and asked, "What would you have done in his situation Michael Moore, except exaclaim, "the world is ending" and run for the nearest Cinnabon for one last indulgence?" Moore then jumped to another interesting but semi-truthful fact that the Bush family are long time business associates with Saudis and even the Bin Laden Family. He also discussed how Bush flew the entire Bin laden family and about another 100 or so Saudis out of the country right after 9/11. According to Moore, this emphatically shows that Bush botched the investigation of 9/11 in an attempt to protect his Saudi business interests. OK Michael Moore, you made the connection between Bush and Saudi oil money, but the mere presence of a connection does not also mean that Bush is negatively affecting American interests. Moore defintely failed to establish exactly why Bush would favor his own interests over America's. By his own logic, I could infer that since Moore's film was released by Lions Gate Films, who has a stake in Lockheed Martin (the biggest weapons maker in the country), that Moore actually supports the war in Iraq. Sadly, the above assertion was the last part of this film that would be a somewhat fair and balanced argument.
Like many of Michael Moore's films, Fahrenheit 9/11 began with a useful and believable premise: that the war in Iraq was an ill-conceived and poorly fought war. However, true to his past flms, Moore slithers away from his premise and begins to insert his liberal agenda into the mix. The first abomination was Moore's assertion, or rather the assertion of his cutting room floor antics, that ALL soldiers in Iraq hate the war. Now come on!! Michael Moore can trick me into thinking Bush was influenced by Saudi money; he may even trick me with his ghastly appearance that I mistakingly went to see "Super Size Me," but he will not convince me that a majority, let alone all, troops are against the war. Moore showed scene after scene of gruesome war footage. You know the kind: bombs detonating, children screaming, corpses lying motionless. Thank you Michael Moore for changing my conceptions of what happens during a war. I always thought it was more a battle of chess where generals strategically place troops and missles in certain locations, but I never imagined people died or were hurt in wars!
After the above lesson in war, Michael Moore dropped the biggest bomb of the film. He argued that the Armed Forces consistently recruits people from lower class neighborhoods (like his home shitburg of Flint, Michigan), which clearly shows that the government is out to kill the poor. For the massive surface area that Michael Moore encompasses, one would think that some of it would include brain cells. First, it is not the government that causes poverty you fat fuck, it is the very structure of capitalism that creates haves and have nots. The system is imperfect, but it is alot better than being communists or Nazis. If socialist swine Michael Moore wants to talk about inequities, let us now be magically transported to Stalinist Russia or Hitler's Germany. Put simply, capitalism is the best and most fair economic system in the world today, so Michael Moore better get used to it and stop blaming everything else under the sun for poverty. Second, it is beyond me how Moore can bitch about the massive unemployment in this country, yet be against the military recruitment of the poor. News to Moore: the military employs hundreds of thousands of people! In addition, I for one think it is a good idea to get some of the hoodrats off the street and into tanks. The more lower class criminals we take off the street, the safer this country will be.
As if Moore's liberal bullshit-mongering were not enough, he also included, for a signifigant section of the film, a mother weeping uncontrollably over her son's death in Iraq. This, in a nutshell, is the bread and butter of Moore's films; he appeals to your emotions while clouding your rational judgement. Of course people are going to die in the war! What did the mother expect? If your job entails you getting shot at, dropping bombs, or flying helicopters, chances are considerable that you might die. One, or even a few deaths, is not enough to convince me that war is always unecessary.
By the end of the movie, I was exhausted by the amount of things that frustrated me. However, I can still respect Michael Moore's passionate filmaking, and his place as a political upstart to begin debates about important issues. Honestly, I am glad that someone is out there causing people to think about politics, and it is for that reason that this film, despite being ridiculous propoganda, deserves a modicum of respect.
4.9
The Day After Tomorrow
As I finished watching this movie on a blustery Tuesday, I could not help but wish, in retrospect, that in fact it was the day after tomorrow because then I would have not seen the movie at all. Against popular conceptions formed by Noam Chomsky, there is a liberal slant in the media. Nothing like a diaster movie brings out the liberal environmentalists from the woodwork to bitch and complain that this world is being destroyed for our children. In the words of the eminent George Carlin, "Fuck the Children."
The movie begins with three scientists conveniently positioned on a breaking iceberg. The weather begins to show massive shifts, the likes of which baffle conservative scientists, Anne Coultier, and people with sizable brains. The liberals begin almost immediately to train people in experimental meteorology and throw several buzz words out so that people could start to repeat them. What causes massive weather shifting you ask? Why global warming, tidal streams, and desalinization, of course! After all this bullshit was over, the only buzzword I could recall was deneuralization.
Before we are even introduced to the storms that will cause the next ice age, we are shown another diaster: the acting between a negligient father (the crazy scientist who predicts the problems)and his bohemian son. As if that emotional garbage were not enough, the son falls madly in love with a girl right before the weather shifts. Thus, the icebergs were not the only things to melt in this picture, as my heart was also warmed with every moment of true love.
Tempatures began dropping, seas began boiling, and tornados touched down in Los Angeles only to destroy the entire city, a section of the film I actually enjoyed. Now even though I thought the president, hell even the federal government, had expert advisors on weather conditions, this movie makes it seem like it's up to one lunatic scientist to convince the vice president, who is depicted as an asshole, that the seemingly mild weather conditions are in fact a modicum of the larger weather system liberals had predicted to destroy the world ions ago. Ladies and Gentlemen, I was wrong! Stop using hairspray and styrofoam! You bastards are leading to a massive ice age that will strangle the earth in a matter of hours.
Moving on to a progression of fucking ridiculous plot concepts, the crazy scientist warns his boy to stay in New York City, despite telling everyone else to move down South into their own deaths via the storm. See, I knew it. No matter how much anyone claims to be liberal, they always think of their lineage when it counts. In a matter of hours, a tidal wave crashes into New York City only to freeze over into icebergs shortly thereafter. Well, apparently two planes crashing into two buildings killing 3000 people was not entertaining enough for the Big Apple. As time goes on, the crazy scientist discovers that the eye of the storm, which is historically the most calm section in hurricanes, produces temperatures of 150 below zero. He explains that the air moves too quickly through the earth's atmosphere to warm up. But that notion is proven to be bullshit in a few moments as that very scientist "outruns" air that is too fast to warm up but too slow to catch a fatigued human being.
The story then picks up as escaped wolves, ravenously hungry after a long forty five minutes of not eating, attack a group of people. But wait liberals, I thought nature was our friend! I thought if we stopped polluting the environment, then we would live in perfect harmony with mother earth. Well, who knew nature operated by survival of the fittest?
Even though the screen was darkened by massive cloud cover, it was still illuminated with some great acting, such as the token atheist who refuses to burn books which act as his higher being. Holding a Guttenberg bible, the atheist explains, "Without books, civilzation would be lost." Bullshit. There are plenty of books this world could do without including the bible. The other character I also loved was the bum who had a dog. Now, let's just think for a second. Why the hell would a bum keep a dog, knowing that the dog would need to share some of his meager supplies of food? Is this really what liberals think bums are: happy-go-lucky fish out of water types? The bum also showed the group how to wrap themselves in newspaper to keep warm. Indeed, I was convinced by this movie that all people are useful, even if they are drug addicted or alcoholic. Despite the group's refusal to burn books, the crazy scientist's son and his cronies all survive the storm that killed everyone else. Not to be outdone, the father implausibly walked 200 miles on hundreds of feet of snow to meet his son in New York. Love can conquer all, even logical reasoning.
The ending of this movie was simply glorious. The United States moves most of its citizens to Mexico by making a deal to forgive Mexican debt, a huge hot button by this point. The President dies and the vice president, the same asshole that refused to listen to well thought out liberal ideas says to a candid world,"We thought we could adamantly burn our fossil fuels without consequence. We were wrong. Countries that we once looked down on as 'third world' are now hosting us... and we salute them." I almost fell over in my seat. Ok then, enjoy living in an "equal country" where you will have to fight off warlords, pick bananas, and kill dictators to ensure change. On the way out of the theater, I saw the poster for "The Day After Tomorrow." It asked, "Where will you be?" In the end, you can be on the highest of mountains or in the deepest of canyons, just make sure you are nowhere near the theater.
3.2 (because it had good special effects and made me laugh)
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
Like most people, I have been a fan of the Harry Potter movies starting with Sorcerer's Stone all the way to the Chamber of Secrets. What's not to like about these movies? They are about a collection of children who attend the most prestigious school imaginable. Rest assured, I have already submitted my application to Hogwarts for an MPhil in Dark Arts. I trust that since Hogwarts has affirmative action, I can still be admitted despite being a mudblood. There is one minor aspect of these movies that has irked me: People constantly blather to me that the books are better, and that I should read them. Let's get something straight, I may lower myself to watch children's movies, but I'll be damned if I will habitually read children's books. I can see myself now, sitting in a Starbucks with my mocha latte flirting with an attractive girl as I leaf through the "Cat in the Hat." She raises an eye at me and I make conversation by informing her that "in this one he comes back."
Despite my affinity for the Harry Potter movies, I was very disappointed with this third installment for a couple of reasons. First, and foremost, who the hell was the enemy in this movie? I cannot even communicate my disaapointment when I found out that Sirius Black was a good guy! I wanted him to slowly torment Harry psychologically, and then at the end have a final showdown. The dementors, although really entertaining to watch, were not all bad either. Sure they tried to suck the life out of Harry's soul, but they were looking for an escaped felon. By the end of the movie, right after that ill-conceived battle between two werewolves, I found myself longing for Lord Voldemort. The next Harry Potter movie better have a huge fucking climax where Harry and the one whose name we shant speak beat the shit out of each other.
Second, the acting in this movie was vomit inducing, When Harry, Ron, and Hermione were kids, their naive personalities were whimsical and enchanting. In the third movie, all of the kids have hit their awkward teenage years. Hermione is finding it difficult to run because of her new assets, Ron has discovered that his freakish facial contortions are not quite so cute anymore, and Harry has realized that it is not enough to look like Harry Potter; he actually has to act too. Worst of all, Malfoy has been transformed from my personal hero into a puddle of tears. In the first two movies, Malfoy utilized his power of wealth and patronage to undermine Harry along with unwanted mudbloods. In contrast, the third movie presents Malfoy as a weak sissy, a portryal that almost made me walk out of the theater. I know that Harry Potter is of the fantasy genre, but making old money ineffective is just too unbelievable. Finally, what the hell happened to Ron? I knew he is supposed to be poor, but he was like a fucking hippie walking around with his unkempt hair and berlap sacks he called clothes. I predict in the the next movie that Ron will discover weed, or the magical equivalant, and fail out of Hogwarts, so he has to live with Hagrid and make soap to support his meth addiction. Well, maybe thats wrong, perhaps he'll go right for the hardcore shit and start drinking unicorn blood. Whatever his poison, I see hemp necklaces, The Grateful Dead, and nonsensical political beliefs for Ron in the future.
Besides the lack of an interesting plot, I was also amazed at how the administrators at Hogwarts keep their positions. As I said in a review of the second movie, if the faculty at Hogwarts worked in the real world, they would be out on their fat, magical asses a long time ago. Hiding deadly sorcerer stones in an area with children, permitting garguantuan snakes to roam around the plumbing, and encouraging hormonal teens to go back in time to defeat dangerous enemies would have landed Dumbeldore and possibly the Dean of Students in jail. Hogwarts should start a law school and train someone to be the school's general counsel because the lawyers like werewolves are circling in the woods not far away.
The only thing that saved this movie from a dismal review was the directing. The new director made the third movie as dark as a Tim Burton film, which I enjoyed. In the end, I felt as if a dementor had approached me in the theater and began suckling on all my happiness. Indeed, the movie should have been called Harry Potter and the PRISONERS of Azkaban, as I felt confined by bordem and joyless indifference.
3.0
The Stepford Wives
After a long day of defending criminals, my heart desired nothing more then to relish in the fantastic and whimsical world of Shrek 2. However, Erin, who apparently like the Vatican holds a kind of unofficial political power over me, demanded that we see The Stepford Wives. Before I even get into the movie, allow me to comment on the pre-feature presentation events. Call me old fashioned, but I seem to remember when movies had no commercials. But now, a movie is preceeded by more than ten minutes of tasteless drivel that would make even the most basic carbon composed life form beg for heavenly mercy. My favorite one has to be the Coke commercial. Why in the hell does the Coca-Cola company insist on advertising in a movie theater that probably has a monopolistic contract with Coke anyway? Besides, I think I can safely say that my soft drink preference has been solidified. It is not as if one day I will break down the monkish doors of ignorance and proclaim to an awaiting crowd: "I have changed from Pepsi to Coke!" That piece of useless garbage was followed by the zany Six Flags commercial, which clearly depicts a woman adorned in a geriatric body suit. Last time I followed a dancing old man into a bus, I came out with several systematically placed cigar burns and a fear of bananas. Finally, to end the commerical tour-de-force, I was subjected, much like the main character in A Clockwork Orange, to a grueling spectacle involving the Fanta whores. I doubt that I will ever be able to erase the image of neon latinas dancing frantically and singing that damn Fanta song. To the marketing genius who wrote that Pavlovian nightmare: I want my fucking neurons back. On a brief side note, I was very excited to see a preview for Oliver Stone's "Alexander!"
On to the movie: The Stepford Wives is a remake of a 1975 film about husbands who mysteriously seem to manufacture perfect wives. The plot intrigued my raging misogyny, however, as I would quickly find out, the story of men plotting to squash overachieving women into lowly housewives would be a better social suggestion than it would a film. Moreover, the only true robots I witnessed were the one's in the audience who continued to sit and watch this shitfest of a film. After Nicole Kidman gets fired as CEO of a television network, she goes insane. The family moves to a Connecticut town called Stepford, where women are perfect, and the men are happy. Despite this town-wide bliss, there are three suprising outcasts: a woman with professional goals(Kidman), a writer played by the octagonally shaped Bette Midler, and a flaming, stereotypically portrayed homosexual. It is worth a momentary pause to reflect this film's conception of homosexuality. Apparently, all gay men love christmas ornaments, pastels, baked goods, and designer clothes. What makes the gay man an outcast in the movie is his flaming homosexuality. Silly me: Gay people don't want to be integrated into society, they want to be treated like commodities. Well thanks Stepford Wives, next time I see a gay man on the street, I won't treat him like an equal, I'll pinch his ass and yell like the dickens.
By the time all of these engineered misfits were introduced, I was concentrating on particles floating in the theater and silently bitching about my Erin-induced imprisonment. My ears did perk up, however, when Bette Midler said at a Christmas gathering "I could put a pine cone on the end of my vibrator and have a really Merry Chrristmas" Well screeenwriters, you have really outdone yourselves. Pat yourself on the back and have a Fanta on me.
All three of the women, excuse me, the two women and the gay man were eventually kidnapped and "enhanced" by a terrorist like group of jealous men who were sick of being second to their brilliant wives. Ok hold it. Since when have men, the creatures which control this world, ever bitched about overachieving women? See, this is what the feminist movement has produced: the illusion that somehow women have gotten so powerful that men have to gain power by modifying their ever so giant brains.
Speaking of brains, let us now be transported to the end where the plot really gets interesting. Apparently we find out that although Kidman's husband initially wanted her to become a robot, his testicles ascended up into his abdomen and he chickens out. The husband, played by the inoffensive and dickless Mathhew Broderick, somehow figures out a compliacted computer system and shuts down the mind control machinery. Oh but wait! Just when you thought you knew the point of this movie, you find out that it was a woman who created this town. As she explained, "I was once like you (that is an overachieving bitch). I was the world's foremost brain surgeon." WOW! Not only was she a surgeon, but a brain surgeon, the most complicated of all the medical fields! The woman laments about the dying aristocratic concept of housewivery, and proceeds to kiss her robot husband only to electrify herself. Keep in mind that brain surgeons have an intimate knowledge of computer technology and electrical engineering, but not the sense to keep away from a sparking live wire. Although I sympathized with the woman's cries for the way things were before feminism, I had to sink in my chair a little lower because this movie was no longer about a man's disbolical vision to put women in their rightful places, but a sorrowful parody of a dying breed.
1.0
Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story
Well, what can I say about this movie? It was so stupid, so ridiculous, and so childish that it actually was mildly entertaining. It was like those old Looney Tunes shorts where Wiley Coyote would dig a hole so far down that he would end up in China. Indeed, this movie was so bad, it was good. The basic plotline is even stupid. There's this guy played by Vince Vaughn who owns a gym called "Average Joes." He is a lazy businessman who doesn't even collect the membership fees from his customers. But, despite his failure in the gym business, he manages to be a good person. AWWW!
Anyway, he finds out from a banker, aptly played by the anorexic Christine Taylor from Nickolodeon's "Hey Dude," that his gym is in debt and will be sold to a competing gym owned by Ben Stiller. In a stroke of brilliance, the overweight dorks of Average Joes discover that they could win the necessary money to buy back the gym if they enter a dodgeball tournament. Ben Stiller's gym hears of the plan, and decides to comfound the aspirations of Average Joes by entering the tournament as well.
The aspect of this movie that made it tolerable was the excessiveness of the characters. Ben Stiller played the only character that he can play (or has ever played): an unbelievably stupid asshole that engages in a level of dialogue comparable to a first grader's. However stupid the idea, I did enjoy Stiller's stupid, circular one liners and handle-bar moustache. Also, as if taken from an acid trip, one character thought he was a pirate to the point where he dressed and talked like a swashbuckler throughout the film. This bizarre concept made me laugh just for its applied ridiculousness. In the end, if you want to go to the movies, not think, laugh at mindless physical comedy, giggle at nonsensical one-liners, and witness an experience of crude humor, this movie is for you!
3.2
posted by Unknown at 9:02 AM
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