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  • Review: President Barack Obama: The Man and His Journey

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful. [What do you think?]

    President Barack Obama: The Man and His Journey

     

     

     

    Director: Maria Arita Howard

    CodeBlack Entertainment and Vivendient Films

    I am always skeptical of what seem to be cash-grabs. You know, those books you see in the supermarket, promising to be a titillating expose on the flavor of the month, only to be duped by works that are at best cobbled together by random facts and stats easily revealed by a quick Google search?

    When it comes to our latest historic presidential inauguration, I have my fair share of memorabilia (pins, posters, etc). But I am wary of documentaries that seem pre-packaged and ready to ride the coattails of the success for monetary gain, which is why when I sat down to review “President Barack Obama: The Man and His Journey,” I was, at the very least, dubious.

    It is far from the overnight, stitched-together compilation that it could have been – with interview footage handsomely shot, subtly lit ,and including a wide-range of interviewees. But the film will perhaps serve better for classrooms of future generations as a cursory primer of Barack’s political life; for it is not really the “intimate portrait” we are promised on the back cover of the DVD box.

    Director Maria Arita Howard keeps matters moving briskly for its 90-minute run time, but sometimes falls back on one too many shots of smiling children, flapping flags and amber waves of grain that were too much even for an Obama supporter.

    She does populate it with a nice mix of supporters -- everyone from radio personality Tom Joyner, actor Blair Underwood (who also serves as narrator and who has not seemed to age at all since his “L.A. Law” days), Martin Luther King, III, journalist Roland Martin and actor Hill Harper, a Harvard classmate of Obama.  The film rapidly covers his life’s journey, yet barely stays too long in any particular area for us to get a sense of its influence on Obama, or his on it.

    Each fawns over the politician, from the grassroots campaign volunteer to his fellow senators. And while Obama’s story is quintessentially American, the viewer is never stirred to the goosebumps one can encounter by watching a speech given by the man himself.

    Now, being a political beast myself, there was little included that I did not already know about our President’s political past, so for those who have only gleaned their Obama knowledge throughout the latest campaign, there may be many an interesting kernel of information of his personal and political past.

    But there are also segments that seem rather superfluous to the man’s impact (do we really need to hear the entire song of “Fired Up”?).  For someone with such a meteoric rise to power, some insight along the way would have certainly been advantageous. I would much rather have spent time learning about his childhood struggles as a bi-racial child and how they have strengthened his reserve and convictions than to see grainy footage of him waving to crowds that were played on endless loops during this past election season.

    Of course, the biography of the man is still being written and will undoubtedly serve to inspire song, film and documentaries for years to come. As it stands, “President Barack Obama: The Man and His Journey” is a serviceable primer, filled with a nice range of articulate, interesting supporters from throughout his life.  But as a probing, in-depth portrait of this inspirational figure and the motivating factors that led him to become the most powerful man on the planet, “President Barack Obama” only skims the surface.

    The disc also includes seven motivational “Yes We Can” shorts, which depict several strife-ridden situations, all inspired by the words of our president, and each closing with the seminal  will.i.am number, but sadly, no video of the song itself. Instead you can watch “Fired Up” again from the Bergevin Brothers, which is already played at length during the documentary, and a music video for Brian McKnight’s “Yes We Can!” There are also extended interviews from many of the interviewees that prove more entertaining than insightful.


  • A 'Bloody' good time, as long as it's in 3-D

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful. [What do you think?]
    Under discussion:

    Creepshow  (1982)

    The Fog  (1979)

    Jaws 3  (1983)

    Prom Night  (2008)

    Friday the 13th  (2009)

    My Bloody Valentine 3-D is a film comfortable in its own skin... even if that skin is either impaled, gouged, filleted or otherwise decimated by its pickaxe-wielding killer.

    Count me as one of the chorus members who bemoans each and every new "re-imagining" of old horror films. I found the latest Texas Chainsaws to be dull blades at best, the new Prom Night to be just as awkward and unfulfilling as my own, and I really have no real urge to see Jason arrive on his unlucky Friday in a few weeks (but I'm sure I'll still go).

    But by dressing it with the novelty of 3-D, the creators of Valentine have taken a forgotten, otherwise expendable little slasher film from back in the day and gave it a William Castle-style jolt. For those unfamiliar, Castle was the legendary director who in the '50s resorted to gimmicks like buzzers in theater seats for some of his films to entice audience involvement.

    The use of 3-D is certainly nothing new for horror films, as everyone from Jaws to Jason has at one time promised "a new dimension in terror" or some weak derivative. But it is only recently that the medium has been perfected, ditching the old school red-and-blue tinted glasses (called anaglyph) for the much more fluid "Real 3-D" and "Dolby 3-D"," in which patrons sports gray-tinted shades that reduce the risk of headaches often incurred by the former. It is no longer seen as a hokey gimmick and is becoming more and more commonplace for animated films to be released in this format (in theaters that can project this format) simultaneously with 2-D versions.

    And Valentine certainly realizes that this added dimension is its biggest (perhaps only?) selling point. From the signature weapon of choice for the film's killer to various other objects (tree limbs, ham hocks, eyeballs), Valentine is not stingy with its device and hurls things at the audience at a brisk clip. It's even conveniently set in a mining shaft, whose cavernous walls allow for excellent scope. Fans of the genre will also be happy to note that it is quick to the bloodshed, punctuating the film with several inventive impaling, creative crushings and slick slaughters.

    But perhaps even more surprising is the film's little Scooby-Doo-style mystery that had me and my viewing mates guessing until the end. It's not perfect and does bend the rules a bit, but for those seeking more accurate crime scene analysis, there's more than likely a procedural drama on television right now for you.

    The original film was notable to young gore hounds such as myself in the pages of Fangoria magazine (imagine Entertainment Weekly, with more dismemberings), which previewed the film's deliciously bloody deaths in full color. As with most films of the era, the result was not the sum of its body parts. But the producers of the remake have apparently recognized its strengths (the gore) and realized its flaws (everything else), and have crafted an efficient little scary, fun date movie that claims to be nothing more.

    The plot, if it matters, concerns an incident in a small Pennsylvania mining town in which an accident brought tragedy to the town. In it, a group of miners were trapped inside, all killed by a co-worker who was not all that into sharing the limited oxygen below. He emerges from his coma after a year and, muscle atrophy be damned, manages to massacre an entire hospital in a violent rage. A decade later, similar killings befall the same sleepy town.

    The only actor worth mentioning is the elder cast member who serves as a shout-out to old school horror fans. Tom Atkins, veteran of such '80s-era horror flicks as Halloween III: Season of the Witch, The Fog, Creepshow, and Night of the Creeps plays a sheriff who supposedly originally disposed of the killer years ago, only to find that he may not have sealed the deal.

    Director Patrick Lussier's prior credits include crappy direct-to-video fodder that would not suggest this film would have any mark of quality whatsoever. And while his skills here are not top tier, they are better than the average genre junk that pummels audiences into sensory overload.

    My Bloody Valentine by no means redefines the genre or reinvigorates the device of an added dimension. But where it succeeds is in embracing both, accepting them for what they are and offering viewers a wholly entertaining diversion, filled with cheap, effective thrills and senseless mayhem that are the staples of the slasher film.

    (Those who view the 2-D version, though: Enter at your own risk.)


  • Nothing 'Revolutionary' along the well-traveled 'Road'

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    Director Sam Mendes does not seem to be a big fan of the suburbs. Between his latest film Revolutionary Road and 1999’s American Beauty, Mendes picks at the scabs of suburbia, allowing viewers to gaze at all that oozes from it.

    Like Beauty, Road focuses on a couple whose relationship luster is fading fast, as youthful aspirations fall wayside to the compromises of adulthood. But where the former film dealt with the struggles of a modern day, middle-aged couple, Road focuses on a '50s-era husband and wife (played by Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet) at the earlier stages of their domesticity. And for those fans looking forward to the romantic pairing of the leads from a certain movie about a big boat, let's just say they had it easy with the iceberg compared to what they put themselves through here.

    Frank (DiCaprio) and April's (Winslet) life certainly begins storybook enough – meeting at a social event, eyes locking across a crowded, smoky room and soon settling into cookie-cutter suburbia to raise a couple of rugrats. Frank, the breadwinner, dutifully goes to a job in which the only perk for him is that it allows him to “swim” in the secretarial pool from time to time. April, meanwhile, struggles with the fact that her acting dreams have been dashed and puts on a Douglas Sirk-sized smile as she attempts to conform to her role as Happy Housewife.

    As April grabs at some sort of identity outside the home, Frank half-heartedly goes along for the ride, agreeing to flee to Paris, where she thinks they can start anew and she can be their sole support system. The vision is as childishly executed as it sounds, with no real plan or vision as to what will happen once they arrive (we never see the couple attempt to even learn the language). We spend more time with them telling everyone they're giving their American Dream lifestyle the big kiss-off, rather than actually preparing for their future life. When that dream dies on the vine, their world begins to implode.

    Revolutionary Road is based on an acclaimed 1961 novel by Richard Yates, which, at the time, might have been seen as groundbreaking, as most domestic images of the time were that of the Cleaver clan. But today, the film seems already dated. Gone is the slightest trace of wit (albeit for one supporting character) that Yates infused in his novel, and it's pretty much a given now that the media-fueled visions of the perfect family were usually anything but. Viewers are thrust into their relationship mid-tempest, and there is hardly any trace of love that was ever shared between the two. Even their children are used as props, both figuratively and literally, as they vanish from the picture for conveniently long stretches.

    The result is like being invited over to the neighborhood home of a querulous couple, as you sit awkwardly counting the minutes until you can excuse yourself to relieve the babysitter. Under Mendes' direction, the couple never becomes an actual “couple,” just sounding boards for each other's frustrations.

    The only character who is halfway interesting is John (played by the excellent Michael Shannon), a neighbor's son, fresh from a mental institution, who delights in exposing the couple's flaws and hidden truths to their life together. Also to the film's credit is production designer Kristi Zea who captures the suburban sterility in almost every scene within the home.

    But despite the effective histrionics of Leo and Kate – which feel more like Oscar-clip reels than part of a cohesive narrative – the film is never the deeply moving, personal character study it wants to by. Directors Douglas Sirk (Imitation of Life, All That Heaven Allows) and  Nicholas Ray (Bigger Than Life, Rebel Without a Cause) covered the same dirt-under-the-astroturf territory decades ago, when it felt more dangerous to do so. Hell, even the Brady Bunch got in on it in their 1995 film. 

    Exposing the lack of conformity of '50s wedded bliss today carries none of the same impact. We are closing in on the second decade of the new millennium, and I think it's pretty well established that the image of the “perfect family” was a myth. Viewers can simply tune into AMC's expertly crafted Mad Men each week to witness a much more colorful, developed expose of the era's seamier side instead a dead-end drive down this Road.


  • Review: "Three Monkeys' (Uc Maymun)

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful. [What do you think?]
    Under discussion:

    In the Bedroom  (2001)

    Distant  (2002)

    Climates  (2006)

    So often, when a film is described as 'deliberately paced,' it's can be read as being 'slow.' 'In the Bedroom' initially comes to mind off the top of my head.

    And while the camera may stay statioary to soak in the scenery, the electrical undercurrent of 'Three Monkeys'  (Uc Maymun in Turkish) is anything but lethargic.

    Cinematographer Nuri Bilge Ceylan uses natural and man-made elements as supporting actors. A rolling storm cloud here, a thundering train there, all signify struggles the main characters face as they attempt to lie and cheat their way out of the dark corners in which they've found themselves.

    A middle-aged politician (Ercan Kesal) drives down a desolate road, eyes heavy with sleep, when he is jolted awake by his car slamming into and killing a pedestrian.

    In a panic, he bolts the scene and later persuades his longtime driver, Eyup (played by Yavuz Bingol), to take the fall and and serve the jail time in exchange for large chunks of change for him, Hacer his wife ( played by Hatice Aslan) and Ismael, his young son (played by Ahmet Rifts Sungar).

    As often does happen with money, problems arise. Ismael is of limited motivation and feels that only if the money were spent on a new car, his dream career could be attained. Hacer, on the other hand, begins an affair with her hubby's boss -- yes, the man Eyuap's serving time for -- and is reluctant to let it go upon his prison release.

    The film's title refers to those little chimps that cover their eyes, ears and mouth in order to "see no evil..." etc. And that is exactly what the characters do, they shut down the darker parts and sort of wish their troubles away.

    And this often justifies the lingering, physically inert stretches, hoping that those dark clouds will just roll over eventually and sunny skies will soon follow. But just as director Ceylan cuts away, so does the hope for a cheerful conclusion.

    It's not the prettiest portrait of human nature ( as evidenced by Eyup's violent reaction to his wife's affair, but indifference of his boss killing a man and covering it up), but may be more accurate than we're comfortable with. If it's pictures on the TV, we feel brief sadness before turning the channel; if it hits home, we're pissed.

    The performances are uniformly believable, with Aslan as the true standout. She's the victim of a loveless marriage, and when her husband's jailed for the better part of a year, her flirtation with freedom is palpable.

    And though Three Monkeys dabbles with excellence throughout, it never fully acheives it. Resolutions come a tad too easy in a film as emotionally messy as this, and while the cinematography enhances, it is too often used as a narrative crutch.

    Still, Three Monkeys offers further progression of a filmmaker who is not afraid of a few risks, and with each film, Ceylan has been building a solid resume (with 2002's Distant and 2006's Climates) that will most likely reap future rewards


  • REview: 'Diary of a Bad Lad

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    Under discussion:

    Cloverfield  (2008)

    Quarantine  (2008)

    Who are these people?" is what I repeatedly asked myself when perusing the press release pages of accolades bestowed on the British thriller, Diary of a Bad Lad.

    Chris Bernard called it “Absolutely superb...and completely inspiring” across the top of the promotional materials. Who is Chris Bernard? Good question, since the press packet did not attribute his name to anything. According to “the Google,” he's either a model from Lexington, Kentucky, a married software designer from Chicago, the author of Drop Shipping Sucks, or the founder of the Las Vegas Institute of Noetic Sciences Chapter.

    And as insightful as any of those Chris Bernards may be about film, I am not sure how much I trust their and value their opinions. Perhaps it's time to rethink my credentials as a paid film critic, but color me bored. I just could not enter the groove that Diary of a Bad Lad was trying to create.

    It unfurls as yet another 'found footage' pic, supposedly spliced together from more than 30 hours of "investigative footage". What I watched looked more like outtakes cobbled together from Guy Ritchie test reels.

    The faux documentary format is often the blessing for the first-time filmmaker and the curse for the audience. To Bad Lad's credit, it was apparently completed a number of years ago, placing it pre-Cloverfield and Qurantine. But that does not excuse it from the sheer lack of narrative focus and complete slight of character development.

    From what I am able to ascertain, Barry Lick (played by Jonathan Williams), a swarthy film professor, hires a gaggle of his students to help him film a drug deal that ultimately goes sour. Instead of high-tailing it out of Dodge, he claims that he wants to capture the gritty realism of the proceedings and demands they keep shooting — even as they dispose of a dead body and consume copious illegal substances themselves.

    It's one thing to film an event as it unfolds; it's quite another when you yourself are committing said crime, implicating yourself in the process. It is exactly this little narrative nugget that kept me from investing my interest in any of the characters or events of Lad.

    Then, there are artistic flourishes which completely remove the viewer from the documentary aesthetic it tries so hard to create. During more than one scene, the characters are seen snorting drugs and the director alters the film's soundtrack, which is supposed to emulate the character's high, but moves it completely out of the realm of documentary.

    Then there is the dilemma of whacking through the thicket of accents, and I watch a lot of British TV and film. I am never one to protest reading subtitles, and I'll even take the time to look up cultural-specific witticisms, but Lad's amateur recording devices made it near impossible for the outsider to even decipher what was being said at times, much less extract any meaning from it.

    Some scenes tended to go on forever, such as the amateur 'porn footage' that begins as amusingly playful, but drags on into tedium after five minutes or so.

    It's commendable on a sheerly artistic level, thanks to director Michael Booth, but perhaps a little too impressed with itself, soaking in some of the bells and whistles of Apple's home filmmaking programs — a grainy filter here, a color drain there.

    It does all this at the expense of character development. Too often, the film feels like outtakes from a film, with various seedy sorts mingling without purpose or direction. And while the actors involved are all first-timers, they fail to pull off the naturalism that is required for a film that is supposed to appear more real than a staged theatrical picture.

    Director Booth has obviously paid attention in film class when they covered the chapter on visual effects, but must have dozed off during the lecture on character. This is one Diary that perhaps should have remained under lock and key.


  • The best and the rest in 2008 mainstream movies

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    Under discussion:

    Fight Club  (1999)

    Gerry  (2003)

    Casino Royale  (2006)

    88 Minutes  (2008)

    Zodiac  (2007)

    Sunshine  (2007)

    Iron Man  (2008)

    The Dark Knight  (2008)

    Wall-E  (2008)

    The Love Guru  (2008)

    Tropic Thunder  (2008)

    The Happening  (2008)

    U2 3D  (2008)

    Righteous Kill  (2008)

    Seven Pounds  (2008)

    Twilight  (2008)

    Milk  (2008)

    Sex and the City  (2008)

    Disaster Movie  (2008)

    Make no mistake, 2008 was the year of the woman. From politics to multiplex, they were the most newsworthy.

    At the box office, week after week brought about stories about how, mother of all shockers, women enjoy going to the movies too. From summer “event movies” (usually an exclusive boys tree house where "No Gurlz Allowd"), to record-breaking such as best opening for a female director, women were the new black at the box office.

    In 2008:

    • Twilight was the highest-grossing film opening by a female director (at $70 million);
    • It received the second-largest advanced ticket sales, trailing only The Dark Knight;
    • Sex and the City was the best opening ever for an R-rated comedy;
    • The SATC gals also debuted as the fifth best R-rated film of all time;
    • The film also bested Mission Impossible as the best debut of a film based on a TV show.

     

    Now, perhaps next year we can do the same with good movies.

    Sex in the City was the female equivalent of Iron Man, replacing magical gadgetry with matching accessories and pyrotechnics for Prada. The other glass ceiling-shattering film, Twilight, featured a lead who thankfully did not have to resort to sex for empowerment, but she really didn't do much else, either. Twilight's accolades are deserved for what it accomplished behind the camera, not what was captured on it.

    Though there were film aplenty that could populate both lists, I tried to limit this list to films that would have played in most major cities outside the metropolitan areas.

    BEST

    The Dark Knight: Let me join the chorus of hosannas for this little underrated indie gem, for I know it could use the help financially.

    WALL·E:
    A family film with a virtually dialogue-free first half, a protagonist made of metal, an Earth barren of life and squelched by pollution, a cuddly cockroach sidekick, and a human cast that's a Dorito away from permanent bedrest. A film of staggering beauty from a company for which that is a trademark feature.

    The Curious Case of Benjamin Button:
    Director David Fincher's most accessible, polished film to date. While Zodiac and Fight Club may resonate longer, Button is the kind of marriage between theatrics, epic scope, and pure emotion that lands him in the top tier of working directors. Winning, tender performances by Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett only further cement the film's top 10 placement.

    Burn After Reading:
    After bumming us out of us with last year's stark, desolate (but excellent) No Country for Old Men, the Brothers Coen demonstrate their sharp comic chops with this irreverent, all-star dissection of middle-age madness and frustration of lives lived that come nowhere close to youthful aspirations.

    Milk: Sean Penn offers further proof of his necessity in cinema today with his ingratiating portrayal of slain politician Harvey Milk. Director Gus Van Sant lifts his vision from his navel (where it was focused during films such as Gerry and Last Days) to create a sensitive, intimate biopic that is saved from maudlin tendencies by Penn's presence.

    Tropic Thunder: Bold, unexpected comedy that does not wear out its welcome by the third act, like so many other mainstream comedies. Ben Stiller directs Robert Downey Jr. to his second standout performance this summer.

    Quantum of Solace:
    Some have decried the fact that Daniel Craig's Bond is just too mean. But Solace, which feels like a perfect extension of Casino Royale, feels as though it is taking its sweet time in creating the psyche of someone who has reason to be known as the greatest super-spy the world has ever known.

    Let the Right One In: This is a bit of a cheat, since this may have only appeared on area screens as part of a film festival, but its effect is one that reverberates far outside its limited runs nationwide. In a year when Twilight has been garnering all the attention, The Right One has become the one true vampire (and adolescence) film whose bite leaves a mark and should be sought out on DVD before the inevitable US remake. 

    U2-3D: Demonstrating just why they are the world's biggest rock band, U2 raised the roof with this truly cinematic 3D spectacle that not only captured the feel of one of their concerts, but invited the audience on stage to jam with Bono and the boys.

    Slumdog Millionaire: Danny Boyle never disappoints, even with his misfires (A Life Less Ordinary, Sunshine). But he nails it again with Slumdog, a rather pedestrian tale told with wit, undeniable humanity and delivered with uncompromising conviction.

    WORST


    The Happening: When wind is your chief villain, it's time to rethink the script.

    The Love Guru: Mike Myers steps in Deepak doo-doo.

    Sex and the City:
    Inside this film's Sax Fifth Avenue window dressing lies the the cold, calculated heart of an empty Wal-Mart.

    88Minutes/Righteous Kill:
    Al Pacino should have known better after working with director Jon Avnet in 88, but instead enlisted fellow legend Robert DeNiro to further Kill both their careers.

    X-Files: I Want to Believe:
    But now I no longer do.

    Seven Pounds:
    Will Smith packed his bags for a guilt trip, and we're forced to ride along in the back seat.

    An American Carol: Looks like Republicans were just as good at making films as they were winning elections in 2008.

    Meet the Spartans/Disaster Movie:
    Cinematic parody: Born 1923, Died 2008.


 

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