Movie Review: "Captain America: The Winter Soldier" by David Pretty

 

The Elevator Pitch 

After the events depicted in Captain America: The First Avenger and The Avengers, our titular hero starts running some shady operations for Nick Fury and the counter-intelligence agency S.H.I.E.L.D. Soon ol' wing-head discovers that the world isn't quite as black and white as it used to be and blindly following orders like a good little soldier might end up compromising your integrity.

In The Wheelhouse 

If you're a fan of the cinematic Marvel Universe this one's a must-see. The movie will also work for anyone who likes a light mystery, some intrigue and a metric shit-ton of creatively-ambitious action sequences.

The Upshots 

• There's an actual storyline! Unlike, say, Thor: The Dark World the movie kicks off with some disturbing subtext and then segues into an incredibly-engaging conspiracy plot. Throw in plenty of connective tissue with the pre-existing Marvel movie pantheon as well as direct references to Cap's first film and you have a yarn that's on par if not superior to The Avengers.

• There's actually something going on underneath the hood! What makes Winter Soldier not just good but great is the copious amounts of timely social commentary. Indeed, the script raises some pertinent and squirm-inducing questions about such hot-button topics as unwarranted surveillance, pre-cog anti-terrorism and cabals of secret power brokers who are trying to convince the rest of us that they have our collective best interests in mind. And while some superhero movies do a pretty decent job replicating the tone of a comic book, very few have captured the allegory of the original source material quite like The Winter Soldier.

• The action sequences are, in technical terms, toadly amazeballz! This also illustrates why I prefer movies about the more moderately-powered Marvel characters compared to the exaggerated  flights of fancy depicted in the Thor films. The early clash between Cap and Batroc (Georges St-Pierre) is just the first in a series of well-plotted, creatively-vicious fight scenes. Then there's the faux-S.W.A.T. team assassination attempt on Nick Fury which features one of the most thrilling car chases I've ever seen on film, period. The Winter Soldier's highway ambush against our heroes is also impossibly thrilling. Bucking the popular trend of shooting in a green fabric insulated controlled studio set, directorial siblings Anthony and Joe Russo and their platoon of stunt and fight coordinators use plenty of practical, on-set choreography, real vehicles and creative camerawork to really amp up the illusion of peril.

• It's not "epic"! Compared to the interstellar / inter-planar threats posed in Thor: The Dark World and The Avengers, things have mercifully been scaled back here a bit. Of course, "scaled back" still involves three giant rogue flying aircraft carriers and the potential death of millions of people, but, hey, it's a small victory.  

• Some serious shit goes down! As it is with most licensed products, the writers really aren't at liberty to kill off characters or affect any major change in the milieu. Nevertheless, screenwriters Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely have somehow manged to produce a consequential story that will end up altering the cinematic Marvel Universe forever.  

• We get a central character that we can actually cheer for! Kudos to the producers for finally giving us a protagonist who is truly heroic and not yet another boring, flawed, conflicted anti-hero. By embodying the trepidations of most people right now, Cap becomes a crusader for the habitually-abused, but otherwise oblivious, 99%. At no time does our hero pontificate or come across as self-righteous. This, in turn, really raises the pedigree of the character who, up until recently, had been written off by many contemporary comic books fans as antiquated and pedestrian.

• The cast is fantastic! It's a damned shame that the Fantastic Four films kinda sucked since Chris Evans was the perfect Johnny Storm / Human Torch. Although my own personal pick for Cap would have been more grizzled and world-weary, Chris Evans acquits himself rather well. His youth and fresh-faced good looks ensure that he'll always come across as a non-preachy and very earnest white knight. Scarlett Johansson also wouldn't have been first choice as Black Widow; I think Angelina Jolie rockin' an Eastern Bloc accent would have been perfect. But that's not to say that Scarlet isn't great; she's sexy, sassy and completely convincing when it comes to all of the ass-kickery. On the other hand, Samuel L. Jackson is Nick Fury in my Marvel Universe. He has full command over this role and also makes the best out of a minor character arc. Rounding out the main cast, Anthony Mackie is a spirited and noble addition to the Marvel roster as Sam Wilson a.k.a. the Falcon, Sebastian Stan is relentless and terrifying as the titular Winter Soldier and *YAY!* we get some greatly-appreciated time with Cobie Smulders as Maria Hill. *swoon*

The Down Side

• As consistently-entertaining and spectacular as the film is, eventually I started to suffer from what I can only describe as "spectacle fatigue". For me, three or four original and inventive action set pieces are plenty enough. By the time the sixth dust-up / explosive CGI-fueled orgy of mayhem and destruction rolls around, my attention span starts to wane. Which is kind of a pity since Captain America: The Winter Soldier raises some truly interesting questions about who's really in charge of our own planet. After all, is there any difference between the comically-villainous secret forces featured at the heart of this film and the blatantly-corrupt profiteers that have clearly hijacked our own government? It's a bold, interesting idea but it's quickly shelved in favor or a new round of punchy / kicky / shooty / stabby / 'splodey. 

The Bottom Line

Captain America: The Winter Soldier is, without a doubt, one of the top-tier Marvel superhero movies. It's well-acted, expertly mounted, and, most-importantly, it's got a brain in it's head.         

               Tilt: up.

Movie Review: "Thor: The Dark World"

I hate reviewing sequels since so many of them are just retreads of whatever came before it. Mercifully, there's just enough difference between The Dark World and its predecessor that sitting through this one wasn't a Thor. Er, a chore. Sorry.   

After the destruction of the Bifrost Bridge in the first film, Thor (Chris Hemsworth) is now gallivanting around the Nine Realms, tamping down insurrections and fending off attacks from aggressors. In the process he's been forced to leave behind hottie mortal astrophysicist Jane Foster, who bears an uncanny resemblance to  Natalie Portman.

But Jane isn't just sitting around in her jammies eating Häagen-Dazs and watching The Princess Bride over and over again. Along with her saucy intern Darcy (Kat Dennings) and Darcy's slavish intern (!) Ian (Jonathan Howard), Jane tries to track down the source of some odd energy readings in London. Their search leads them to a warehouse where the laws of physics are going, in scientific parlance, completely batshit nuts. During their investigation, Jane is pulled into the titular Dark World and gets possessed by a blob of malevolent matter.

The goo turns out to be the Aether, an all-powerful source of energy that a Dark Elf warlord named Malekith (Christopher Eccleston) once used in an insane bid to end existence. After he was defeated and sent into exile by Odin's dad Bor (Tony Curran), the Aether was sealed away for safekeeping. Upon its release, Malekith returns and attacks Asgard where Thor has taken Jane to convalesce. The Dark Elf is temporarily thwarted but Thor is forced to ally with his duplicitous brother Loki (Tom Hiddleston) in order to draw the villain out into the open before he can rend the universe asunder.

In many ways, The Dark World is an improvement on the first film. First off, it looks a helluva lot better. The special effects are sharper and it appears as if more practical sets were used, which really helps to sell Asgard as a real location. Of particular note is the relatively-quiet scene in which Thor and his co-conspirators hash out the details of their rebellion in a simple pub setting. It's a refreshing oasis of tranquility amidst all the digital and audio bombast.

The actions scenes are also a lot more dynamic. From the opening scrap which sees Thor squaring off against a marauding troll to our hero's flight from Asgard aboard a high-speed airship to the final Ragnarok-ian battle against Malekith, the movie has a frenetic pace and visual verve that was lacking in its forebearer. By their very definition, high concept fantasy films like Thor: The Dark World are practically built on elaborate visual effects so it really helps to have a director who can stage some energetic virtual set-pieces. 

Even though Taylor does a decent job immersing his actors in their computer-generated environs, the film still feels pretty "video gamey" at times. The prologue, featuring an epic battle between the Dark Elves and the forces of Bor, resembles a cut-scene from Diablo III. Equally hokey is the moment in which Thor and Loki bail out of their airship and land gracefully atop a seemingly-immovable water skiff. And although the climactic battle in Greenwich looks great, things quickly degenerate into a riot of unrestrained green-screenery just as soon as the combatants start flying from one realm to another.

 
But honestly, what else can you do with these god-like characters? You can't relegate the Asgardian God of Thunder to simple fisticuffs because it would end up looking irredeemably cheesy. The fights need to be appropriately epic and comic-booky, and in order to do that, heavy-duty special effects are required. Even though I understand the rationale behind this perfectly, I also recognize that I'll never by fully invested in what's happening on screen because it's so all friggin' over-the top and abstract.

Another thing that keeps ejecting me from Thor's world is the schizophrenic blend of fantasy and sci-fi which makes the whole thing feel like a high-rent version of Masters of the Universe. I've never been particularly keen on mash-ups since two awesome concepts are perfectly fine by themselves without awkwardly boiler-plating one on the the other. I know, I know...the comics did this too, which kind of explains why I didn't like those very much either. I like my fantasy low and gritty and my sci-fi...slightly less low and gritty.

The screenplay, as penned by Christopher Yost, Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely, mainly functions as an edifice to hand action scenes on. And although it does give many of the supporting characters a lot more to do, the script is also chock-a-block with some far-fetched co-incidence. For example, the one person on earth who just so happens to get possessed by the Aether is Thor's main squeeze. Sorry, but the odds of this happening are far more remote than getting struck by a terrestrial bolt of lightning.

Speaking of the Aether, we're given precious little information about it and the whole thing ends up feeling very, very MacGuffin-y. Also, in order to facilitate yet another act of rebellion by Thor, Odin inexplicably decides to turtle instead of taking the fight directly to Malekith. Now, I know that the All-Father isn't nearly as impetuous and hot-headed as his offspring but I'm pretty sure the dude still has his balls. His pacifism is particularly inexplicable in light of what's happened up to that point.

The enthusiastic cast is certainly game and collectively they elevate this B-grade material. As Thor, Helmsworth doesn't have a juicy arc like he did in the first film but he is required to exhibit a spectrum of emotions as his marginal support system gets whittled down. He's still fantastic, embodying the role in a way I never thought possible; I just wish they'd give him something more interesting to do. Indeed, the only problem that Thor can't hammer into oblivion is the threat of being appointed King, a responsibility that he's justifiably allergic to.

Thanks to those previously-mentioned script conveniences, Natalie Portman gets a bit more screen time here. Honestly, it's probably a good thing that she plays host to the Aether, otherwise her only other function would be to spout the occasional burst of pseudo-scientific exposition. Even though she does get to punch Loki square in the mush and bandy semantics with an Asgardian healer (played by former Borg Queen Alice Krige), essentially her main function is to act as "MacGuffin courier". Her role in the film makes me think about that old writer's adage: if you're struggling to find things for a character to do, then the best thing that character can do is go away.   

As to be expected Tom Hiddleston runs rings around his peers. Let's face it, compared to ol' Goldilocks, Loki's a much more interesting character. Since he swaps allegiances more frequently then the average Asgardian changes pantaloons, we're always kept guessing as to where his loyalties truly lie. He sells a mid-point fracas with his big bro so effectively that even when the scene dials down it's still tough to gauge his motivations. Whether he's getting up in Odin's grill, stringing along his moms, or tempting Thor in an awesome cameo-riffic disguise, it's pretty clear that Tom really relishes this role.

Anthony Hopkins could easily have phoned in his performance as Odin, but he's consistently surprising here. He manages to deliver the most innocuous and utilitarian lines of dialogue with nuance and style, even eliciting involuntary verbal reactions from me on occasion. His scenes with Hemsworth are particularly good, namely  the relatively-tranquil balcony scene which contrasts nicely with the genuine ire he exhibits when Thor goes rogue.

Of all the principal actors, Christopher Eccleston gets a pretty crappy deal as Malekith. Just like every other blockbuster movie villain lately, his motivations are downright sketchy and his endgame is idiotic at best. In interviews, Eccleston has hinted at an originally-scripted back-story in which Malekith lost his entire family in some undisclosed tragedy, but this isn't depicted on screen nor is it even mentioned. Perish forbid you slow down the movie's breakneck pace for a second and try to make your villain something more interesting then a stern-talking punching bag.

 
As a result, his hellbent motivation to end the universe makes no sense whatsoever. Then there's the large band of suicidal misfits Malekith has managed to gather together, all of whom are seemingly perfectly content to march unquestionably to their doom on a whim. Despite being rendered virtually unrecognizable underneath a mountain of Nosferatu-style make-up, Eccleston does his best with the flyweight material. Indeed, his presence is commanding and his deliveries are all appropriately menacing.

The supporting characters are all great. Stellan Skarsgaard is gloriously frenetic and chronically under-dressed as resident eccentric scientist Dr. Erik Selvig. After his close encounter with Loki in The Avengers, Skarsgaard gets a chance to be extra-loopy here. Idris Elba, criminally underused as Bifrost Gate guardian Heimdal in the first film, gets a few more on-screen duties. Whether he's alerting Thor to Jane's disappearance, single-handedly destroying an enemy airship or getting confrontational with Odin, he commands attention via a wellspring of understated calm.

Cat Dennings is great as Darcy, providing some much-needed comedy relief and acting as a cute foil for all the Wagnerian seriousness. Some viewers might find her annoying but I say fuck 'em, I like her. Rene Russo's brief screen time also makes me lament her near-absence from films lately. She's got talent, Hollywood, give her some more jobs already! The brief moment she shares with Loki is one of the most emotionally-genuine scenes in either of the two films. 

 
Finally, Thor's returning band of knock-abouts are really fun to watch. Ray Stevenson is boisterous and brave as uber-viking Volstagg, Tadanobu Asano is coolly-measured as Hogun and original pick for Fandral, Zachary Levi, segues nicely into the role, replacing Joshua Dallas from the first film. Indeed, he strikes the perfect balance between swashbuckler, dandy and ultra-pimp ladies man. And even though Jaimie Alexander does get a chance to shoot some eye-daggers at Jane as Sif, this simmering source of conflict never goes anywhere beyond grade-school histrionics.

There isn't anything glaringly wrong with Thor: The Dark World, but there isn't anything earth-shattering about it either. It is what it is: a sequel that's slightly less clunky and a bit more fun then its predecessor.

Bottom line, it's a decent little time-waster that'll kill a few hours as you wait for the new Captain America and / or Avengers movie.  

             Tilt: up.

Movie Review: "Veronica Mars" by David Pretty

Y'know, it's great to have a Veronica Mars movie in theaters and all, but it's also a sad comment about the state of modern cinema. In order for audiences to get a genuinely-interesting murder mystery starring a smart, strong and resourceful female protagonist who isn't a professional victim, it has to be based on a prematurely-cancelled, nearly ten-year-old television show which was crowd-funded into existence by fans. 

My point is: why aren't there more original movies like this? Studios do know that half of the population is female, right? Fucking idiots.

Sorry, I digress. For the uninitiated, Veronica Mars is a solid "whodunnit" featuring a slew of great performances. For unabashed fans like myself, the movie is nothing short of a dream come true.   

Like every other decent T.V. show that had its existence tragically cut short ("Paging Joss Whedon...paging Joss Whedon..."), show runner Rob Thomas had a few plot threads a-danglin' when Veronica Mars was unceremoniously booted off the prime time stage. When we last left our super-sleuth she'd just parted ways with her edgy, on-again / off-again / on-again /off-again boyfriend Logan (Jason Dohring) and rebounded with sweet-but-whitebread music nerd Stosh “Piz” Piznarski (Chris Lowell).

Fast forward to present day and Veronica and Piz are now livin' in sin together in New Yawk City. Days before Veronica (Kristen Bell) is offered a high-profile job at a prestigious law firm, she finds out that Logan is back in the hot-seat, accused of murdering his current girlfriend Carrie (Andrea Estella), a former classmate who morphed into troubled pop music diva Bonnie DeVille. Even though she vowed to leave her checkered  investigative past behind her, Veronica jets back to her home town of Neptune, California in order to help Logan weed out all the legal vultures circling around him.

We're soon reminded of Neptune's Twin Peaks-like seedy side. After Veronica's doting pops Keith (Enrico Colantoni) got pulled through the mud during a contentious municipal election, the town now finds itself under the questionable auspices of Sheriff Dan Lamb, played with douchebaggy perfection by Jerry O'Connell. With corruption rampant and racially-motivated stop-and-frisks a regular occurrence, Veronica feels compelled to slip back into her old habits. 

The plot thickens when "pals" Wallace (Percy Daggs III) and Mac (Tina Majorino) drag Veronica to their conveniently-timed ten year High School reunion. Not only does this give our heroine some key insight into the suspects, screenwriters Rob Thomas and Diane Ruggiero take this opportunity to re-acquaint fans with a slew of minor characters. Pretty soon Veronica finds herself uncomfortably close to the truth, resulting in ample fisticuffs, stray gunfire, attempted murder and plenty of sharply-scripted sarcasm.

If it sounds like I just described the most elaborate in-joke in cinema history you'd be forgiven. I must confess: I probably wouldn't have enjoyed the film quite so much if I wasn't already a fan of the T.V. show. But don't let that deter you since the script for Veronica Mars is actually pretty freakin' good. Like all good murder mysteries red herrings abound, obvious suspects are eliminated, clues keep piling up and the viewer is kept guessing right up until the end. Even when the list of potential killers is narrowed down to only four, the particulars still came as a pleasant surprise to me.

Even though Rob Thomas was likely tempted to turn the film into an endless conveyor belt of high-profile cameos, he shows restraint and keeps the story moving along at a reasonable clip. Yes, a lot of familiar faces do crop up, but it's in service of the plot. For example, when a sleazy video of Bonnie DeVille appears online, a similarly-victimized real-life celebrity helps Veronica trace it back to resident dirtbag Vinny Van Lowe (Ken Marino) which, in turn, leads to a major plot development. Even if it isn't integral to the plot, sharp-eyed viewers will also have fun spotting Bell's real-life partner Dax Sheppard during the High School reunion.

Admittedly there are a couple of scenes which seem to exist just to appease the Kickstarter crowd. Even though the re-union between Veronica and casual fling Leo D’Amato (Max Greenfield) isn't what I'd describe as "pivotal", some character had to give us this info so why not Leo? For fans, this scene is a major highlight. Not only do the two actors play off of one another brilliantly, Greenfield even makes reference to the failed season four pitch which would have seen Veronica emerging fresh out of Quantico.  

Sometimes the script does sag under the crushing weight of collective fan expectations. The entire conspiracy sub-plot involving Weevil, Keith, Deputy Sacks (Brandon Hillock) and the police was clearly seeded here in order to set up a potential sequel. I completely understand why this was done, it just doesn't help the story currently being told here. Also, in a desperate bid to create complications, believability gets stretched to the limit at times.  The whole radio station tip off thing is a particularly goofy example of this.       

On a more positive note, the actors really run with the script's emotional heft and snappy dialogue. Kristen Bell deserved a freakin' Emmy for her work on the television show and she certainly brings her "A"-game here. No one delivers a Rob Thomas put-down like Bell who, more then ever, seems to be a constant target  for potential players, rank idiots and perverts.

 
Even when she's not armed with dialogue, Bell is still a formidable force. Every time she folds her arms, adopts that deadpan stare and takes aim at an unsuspecting mouth-breather, you'd be wise to duck n' cover. Nothing says "Please die in a fire" quite like a Veronica Mars stare-down. She's equally limber when tasked to deliver a complicated bluff or a pleased-as-punch accusation. Honestly I could watch this woman read C-Span transcripts for two hours and be perfectly entertained.

Jason Dohring is measured and low-key as Logan Echolls. Mercifully Thomas doesn't regress his main characters just because they've moved to the big screen. As such, our favorite tall, brooding, not-so-spoiled rich kid actually exhibits a modicum of, dare I say it, maturity? His first appearance on screen is a bit of a system shock and his downright Zen-like demeanor could easily be mistaken for resignation.

One thing that will never change is Logan's unflagging defense of Veronica. Clearly Dohring knows this role inside and out by now so he isn't exactly reinventing the wheel, but he does do a fine job bringing out the character's new subtleties. Oh, and what kind of Veronica Mars movie would it be if Logan Echolls didn't get involve in some sort of epic, knuckle-chucking dust-up. Needless to say, Dohring acquits himself quite nicely during this scene and as well as every other for that matter.  

And how great is it to see the dynamic duo of Percy Daggs III and Trina Majorino in action once again as Wallace and Mac? Both of them slip back into their respective roles with ease, delivering Thomas's high-octane dialogue with typical aplomb. Every time either of these two grace the screen they really drive home my belief that every good protagonist needs a practical and authentic support system.

The minor players certainly don't turn in minor performances. Of particular note is Krysten Ritter as Gia Goodman. Between her early stint on the television show and her role as Jane on Breaking Bad, Kristen has really perfected the art of what I can only describe as "breezy fraudulence". Not only was she blessed with stunningly-retro good looks, Ritter also has no problem switching gears between irritation, distraction and vapididty even during the same scene.

As the perennially-shirtless surfer-bro Dick Casablancas, Ryan Hansen had some pretty funny moments on the original T.V. show. Even though he's still a total dee-bag here, Hansen's natural charisma shines through and he easily walks off with pretty much every scene he's in. Despite the fact that Dick is a prime suspect this case, Hanson's limitless confidence keeps us guessing. Is he really that cocksure or is it all just an elaborate bluff?

It's also great to see Francis Capra back as ex-badass biker turned model(ish) citizen Eli "Weevil" Navarro. Capra sells this development so well that an unexpected close call actually elicited a collective gasp of surprise from the audience. Chris Lowell is also great as Veronica's eager-to-please nominal boyfriend Piz. He's earnest, inhumanly-patient and can wear a permanent "kick-me" sign without looking like a complete and total milksop. Finally Enrico Colantoni continues to provide the perfect parental half in what has to be one of the most positive, genuine and heart-warming on-screen father / daughter relationships.

The average film-goer can watch and enjoy Veronica Mars on a purely superficial level but for fans this one is a particularly tasty treat. The movie serves up plenty of great geek-out moments, a satisfying finale and, most importantly, offers up a modicum of hope that we'll see Veronica come back time and time again like sassier, blonder James Bond.

Please note: by reading this you are now contractually-obligated to take in a screening of Veronica Mars or be saddled with the permanent descriptor of 'big meanie face'. Legal disclaimer: of course I'm saying this for purely selfish reasons. I wants me some mo' Marz.

      Tilt: up.

Movie Review: "Dredd" by David Pretty

Ahhh, the Seventies and Eighties: when a new generation of cynical fan-boys thumbed their collective noses at corny paladins like Superman and embraced a host of bad-ass protagonists. Between Han Solo in Star Wars, Batman in The Dark Knight Returns, V in V for Vendetta, Rorschach from Watchmen, Snake Plissken in Escape From New York, Wolverine from the X-Men, Max Rockatansky in Mad Max, John Rambo in First Blood, and Harry Callahan in Dirty Harry not a single solitary fuck was given amongst all of these chaotically-good renegades.

Judge Dredd definitely deserves to be included with this company of violent, laconic assholes. Director Danny Cannon and writers William Wisher and Steven DeSousa tried to drag him kicking and screaming into the zeitgeist of pop-culture back in 1995 with the Stallone film of the same name but we all know how well that worked out.

Well, a modicum of justice has finally been given to this iconic but somewhat cultish character thanks to talented British T.V. director Pete Travis and novelist / 28 Days Later scribe Alex Garland. The results are a smart, well-paced action film that still manages to remain faithful to the spirit of the original character.

Rife with nuclear war phobia and rampant crime and drug paranoia the mise-en-scène featured in Dredd is definitely a product of the Eighties. The United States depicted in the film is nothing but an irradiated wasteland dominated by massive megacities that stretch from Boston to Washington, DC. Eight-hundred million people live within the confines of this urban hell, trying to eke out a pitiful existence while marinating in an environment awash in random violence, deadly drugs and abject poverty.

With seventeen thousand serious crimes being reported every day, the only line of defense against this incessant tide of chaos is the Hall of Justice and their one-man legal institutions: the Judges. One of their more stalwart representatives, Dredd (Karl Urban) gets a new partner in the form of rookie Cassandra Anderson (Olivia Thirlby), a mutant psychic with the indispensable but tricky ability to tap into the icky thoughts of criminal scumbags.

The two are dispatched to the scene of a gruesome triple homicide at the ironically-named Peach Tree, a massive two-hundred story tenement. A cursory investigation reveals that the three were taken out by a powerful and ruthless gangster *slash* drug kingpin name Madeline Madrigal a.k.a. Ma-Ma (Lena Headey). In order to set an example for her rivals she had them skinned alive and then hucked them off the top floor of the Peach Tree. Yikes.

After Dredd and Anderson capture one of Ma-Ma's knowledgeable lieutenants named Kay (Wood Harris), she immediately becomes concerned that he'll spill the beans about her home-grown drug operation. Before Dredd and Anderson can escape, Ma-Ma stages an emergency drill, triggers the building's blast doors and seals the two Judges up within the embattled tower block. Unable to escape or call for back-up, Dredd and his partner are forced to fight their way through waves of hostile goons in order get to their assailant.

Right off the bat director Pete Travis and his stunt coordinator Grant Hulley deliver a thrilling chase scene between a van filled with escaped criminals and a motorcycle-riding Dredd. Like the opening pursuit in Robocop, the scene is dynamically shot on location and positively charged with a real sense of peril. Filmed in downtown Johannesburg, the scene has a sun-baked and authentic quality that's both tangible and exotic.

The film's gritty visual appeal is assisted by some stellar production design by Mark Digby. The shops and hovels in Peach Tree evoke shades of Blade Runner and the warrens inhabited by the movie's skeezier elements are appropriately dank, cluttered and filthy. Add in some impressive costume design by Diana Cilliers and Michael O'Connor and the film's world building is complete. The standard-issue Judge uniform and accompanying hardware is pretty durned impressive. Arguably Dredd's "Lawgiver" handgun is Swiss Army Knife of sci-fi weaponry.  

The film-makers also get a lot of mileage out of Slo-Mo, the narcotic peddled by Ma-Ma and her minions. When ingested, the drug makes recipients perceive time at one-percent the normal rate. Not only does this give Travis and chief cinematographer Anthony Dodd Mantle an excuse to render their action scenes in something resembling "Bullet Time", it also creates an incongruously-gorgeous kaleidoscopic riot of color and sparkles. Violence hasn't looked this pretty since John Woo's last Hong Kong film.

Digital effects are used sparingly and blend in quite well with the practical sets and well-choreographed action scenes. The only thing that took me out of the movie were the CGI bullet hits. As someone who was reared on traditional explosive blood quibs, the digital versions still looks tremendously fake to me. On the flip side I was really impressed by the creatively-gruesome mayhem that the special-effects artists inflict upon the actors and extras. At various times in the film, concussive blasts distort and ripple flesh, cheeks are blown into ribbons by stray bullets and abdomens are pureed by gunfire.

Even the more conventional action sequences pop with creative staging and strategic planning. The "vulcan cannon" sequence is enough to cause post-truamatic stress disorder even if the final result looks suspiciously like a digital matte painting. Fire-fights are sweaty, claustrophobic and charged with dynamic motion. The scene in which two rogue Judges try to outflank and kill Dredd is staged with such clarity it feels like a real S.W.A.T. team drill. And when Dredd shatters his opponent's larynx with a well-placed gun-butt to the throat the effect is appropriately wince-inducing.

I also highly applaud the casting choices. Karl Urban deserves a fucking medal and not just because he cares enough about the character to wear a bucket over his head for the entire film. He also manages to convey a wealth of expression just by using the lower half of his face. It's actually fun to watch what on-screen circumstances prompt him to deliver the classic Judge Dredd lemon face.

Pixie-like Olivia Thirlby is also a tremendous asset. Quite often casting directors pick women for purely superficial reasons and then find out later on that they can't deliver the goods when it comes to ass-kickery. No fear with Olivia Filby; she takes the character arc inherent in the script and manages to sell it to the hilt. I also love that Alex Garland gives her a dénouement that doesn't cow-tow to screenwriting convention.

Speaking of defying convention, the casting of Lena Headey as Ma-Ma is quite inspired. Even though I would love to have gotten a few more scenes with her to flesh out her back-story at we are provided with some insight into her bleak worldview. Yes, I understand why she's ruthless, bitter, violent and angry but I don't know why she's peddling Slo-Mo other than the fact that she is not just a seller she's an addict herself.

Lena's normally-gorgeous visage has been completely defaced here and I really applaud her lack of ego. Decked out with decayed teeth, cracked lips, facial scars and a fright wig of reddish-brown hair, I suspect that the transformative make-up job really gave Headey a lot of impetus for her hard-boiled performance. Hunched, sneering and fueled by pure contempt for the world that damaged her, Headey approaches the role with a fatalistic quality that makes her interesting and surprisingly sympathetic.   

Dredd was a pleasant surprise for me. I sat down to watch it with zero expectations and came out the other end feeling quite sated. Even though the satirical edge present in the original comic books has been largely diminished, the film is still smart, visually inventive, dynamic, bravely acted and no less engaging then your average choke-hold.

I really hope that the flick made enough money in the ancillary markets to warrant a sequel because Dredd is definitely a promising start. I'd love to see a follow-up that retains all of the creative mayhem from the first film whilst blasting the viewer with both barrels of biting social commentary.  

                     Tilt: up.

 

Movie Review: "Enter The Dragon" by David Pretty

 
Enter the Dragon is a fun, colorful and undeniably-funky chop-socky flick.

The eternal Bruce Lee plays a Shaolin martial artist who's tapped by MI-6 to infiltrate the island fortress of  the mysterious "Mr. Han". A fallen Shaolin student himself, the ludicrously-wealthy Han has decreed that a martial arts tournament be held every three years to satiate his own twisted desires.

Lee enters the competition to gather evidence on Han's illicit activities which include prostitution, opium production and gratuitous impersonation of a low-rent James Bond villain. Conveniently, Lee also discovers early on that one of Han's chief goons was personally responsible for his sister's death.

With the hoariest of kung-fu movie cliche's now set in place, Lee travels to the island to avenge her death and fulfill his mission. Once there he's joined by two other international competitors: a white American philanthropist named Roper who's racked up a massive gambling debt and Williams, a Black Panther/Soul Brother type who's on the lam after pummeling the crap out of two racist cops in L.A. who eventually took their frustrations out on Rodney King years later. True story. Well, no, not really. 

After faring quite well in the initial competition, Lee manages to infiltrate Han's sleazy inner sanctum, but not without getting into a dust up with some guards. When Han hears about the overt snooping the following day he immediately morphs into full blown super-villain mode. He kills a handful of his own men to make an example out of them, tries to extort Roper into becoming his stateside connection, pits Lee up against the meathead who killed his sister, and personally dispatches one of the competitors as a warm-up. 

Needless to say, it's only a matter of time before everything goes totally batshit nuts and Lee is forced to fight, by my conservative estimation, approximately ONE MILLION DUDES and then eventually finds himself in mortal combat with the evil Han himself.

Looking like the human equivalent of a coiled spring throughout the entire film, the iconic Lee is completely hypnotic to watch. It's also fun to see John Saxon in fighting form since up to now I've only seen him as Heather Langenkamp's dad in A Nightmare on Elm Street. Sporting an afro that could easily be considered the Eighth Wonder of the World, Jim Kelley as also great as the self-assured Williams. Finally Shih Kien is appropriately menacing as Han even if his interchangeable hands and habitual white-cat strokery make him a pretty derivative and cartoonish bad guy.

The film itself is rife with gaudy decor, psychedelic color and opulent access. Unfortunately, it's also guilty of trotting out a few sexist and racist stereotype but I'm will to let this slide a bit considering that the movie is a snapshot of a long-bygone era. Although some viewers might find the film too low-key they really need to know that it was made back when everything was done practically, on camera and without the aid of CGI or complicated special effects. These dudes were actually getting kicked around here; just ask Jackie Chan who briefly appears in the film. Supposedly he got clobbered by Lee for real during an alternate fight scene.

Although Enter the Dragon might seem a bit dated at first, as soon as Lee ditches the shirt, gets bloodied by claw marks and starts kicking extras in the chest while screaming eloquent lines like "WA-CHAAAA!!!" the film instantly transforms into pure pop culture gold. Honestly, it's akin to Marilyn Monroe's updraft skirt scene in The Seven Year Itch or Charles Foster Kane's exhalation of  "Rosebud!" in Citizen Kane. Not only is the film a unique time capsule it's also the perfect vehicle to showcase the charisma and talent of its unique and prematurely-departed super star.

   Tilt: up.

Movie Review: "Robocop" (1987) by David Pretty

Just for the record, Robocop made the following prescient predictions:

1. News will become infotainment.
2. Compact discs will be employed for data storage by rich CEOs who are obviously too cheap to buy a flash drive.
3. Corporations will start to privatize traditionally-nationalized enterprises such as the military, hospitals, prisons, education, space travel, and urban planning.
4. Detroit will implode.
5. Network television will get even worse.
6. Ummm, hel-lo? How about the film's fucking premise?     

In fact, just about the only thing the film didn't accurately predict was unisex change rooms. 'Cuz, y'know, perish forbid we actually grew up a little bit about nudity.

But pretty much everything else has come to pass, making the original Robocop a film that belongs in the upper pantheon of great sci-fi. Admittedly, it also makes for a pretty ripe target for a remake since we obviously didn't heed the movie's warnings the first time around.

One of the main reasons for the film's success is Peter Weller. At first he seems like the unlikeliest of cops: scrawny, vaguely effeminate and conspicuously blow-dried. Hell, Nancy Allen's Lewis comes across as more kick-ass since she's first seen pummeling a rowdy prisoner into submission.

 
"Pretty neat," the buttoned-down Murphy wryly observes.

But just a few minutes later he's pulling rank behind the driver's seat, performing enough quick-draw stunts to generate a lifetime of paperwork, talkin' 'bout his wife and kid back home and then charging into battle with both guns a-blazin'. This flash-sketched characterization is more than enough to get the audience firmly in his corner. We're predisposed to Murphy because he's brave, he's a family man and, let's face it, he's kinda goofy. As such, when our two heroes are forced to confront THE BAD GUYS without the benefit of back- up, we're already rooting for them.

But then the script goes and does it's one and only supremely stupid thing. After Officer Lewis gets the drop on one of the crooks she inexplicably falls for the old "You mind if I...zip this up?" gag. This immediately gives every female watching the film a legitimate reason to roll their eyes while every idiotic male begins to ponder this tactic's probability of success against the average meter maid.
 
Anyway, this gives the gang a chance to flank, capture and then systemically dismantle Murphy in the most hideous and grotesque method imaginable. When I first saw this at the ripe old age of seventeen I was soundly traumatized. The concept of even fictional characters deriving such sadistic glee at the prospects of torturing someone else completely shattered my fragile eggshell mind. For the rest of the film I wanted Nancy Allen's character to enter a shame spiral and turn into a raging alcoholic, but for some reason she's completely nonplussed by her own catastrophic fuck-up.

 
The Jesus parable that follows gives director Paul Verhoeven a chance to flex his stylistic muscles. From Murphy's bleak perspective we witness a team of medics frantically struggling to save his life but to no avail. After the screen goes dark for an inordinate amount of time our point of view is then rebooted in robo-vision. This leads to a virtuoso reveal of Peter Weller in the Robocop suit as well as an introductory first-night patrol montage that, at the time, I hoped would one day find its way into an actual super hero film.

As an aside, I'm not surprised that comic book scribe Frank Miller was eventually brought in to pen the sequel since, either by design or by co-incidence, Robocop bears a striking similarity to The Dark Knight Returns which was published the previous year. You've got ironic/serious news reports, gobs of social commentary, a rogue hero, villains who refuse to play by the rules and the sort of gallows humor that would give Spalding Gray pause for thought.

The scene in which a former Mayor goes off the rails, takes a bunch of hostages and then threatens to ventilate the incumbent if he doesn't get his old job back is pure Miller-ian goodness. While a hostage negotiator keeps the lunatic engaged in a gloriously-dadaist conversation over demands ("And I want a new car! Something with reclining leather seats, that goes really fast, and gets really shitty gas mileage!"), Robocop bursts through the walls and then punches the lunatic through a window. Honestly, it's a wonder Frank Miller didn't sue screenwriters Edward Neumeier and Michael Miner for intellectual property theft.

Funny thing is, their script is actually a lot more even then many of Miller's disproportionately-bleak efforts. After Robocop video captures a confessional from one of his earlier assailants, he returns to the precinct, identifies the goon, pin-points the ringleader and then stumbles upon his own defunct police file. What follows is a powerful sequence in which Robocop returns to his now-deserted home and experiences a series of brilliantly-edited flashbacks. It's the sort of genuine emotional heft that Frank Miller seems increasingly incapable of.

You might scoff, but I maintain that the script for Robocop is actually one of the finest ever produced. Every plot element fits together like a puzzle. Witness the dramatically-sublime evocation of the mysterious "Directive Four", the scene in which Murphy's fellow officers hunt him down in a poetic evocation of his origin story, and the calm-before-the-storm "target practice" sequence between Murphy and Lewis. And, of course, who can forget the rousing climax which features the most timely termination in cinema history?

But perhaps the set-pièce de résistance is the satirically-vicious ED-209 demo / board room scene which kicks off the film. Speaking as someone who's been stuck in more then his fair share of business presentations gone comically awry, this has to be one of the best representations of corporate hubris ever commited to film. One day I hope to thank Paul Verhoeven and his screenwriters personally for trying to warn me at a young age that some of the biggest scumbags on the planet wear ties, not tattoos.

 
Of course a movie like Robocop is only as good as its villains and here we're treated to no less than three world-class creeps. Up first is Dick Jones, played by omnipresent 80's heavy Ronny Cox. If there's an actor that effortlessly manages to embody white-collar swagga, a cocksure attitude and a penchant for greasy machinations, it's Ronny Cox. The scene in which he bushwhacks an underling in an executive washroom is downright unnerving.

Speak of the devil, Miguel Ferrer is absolutely electrifying as Dick's coked-up understudy, the egotistical, ladder-climbing Bob Morton. He's the prototypical Reagan-era go-getter: a smarmy, opportunistic and ruthless little fuck who's more then willing to toss a co-worker into the gun-sites of ED 209, elbow his superior out of the way for a promotion or wallow in Wolf of Wall Street excess whenever possible. Just check out the scene in which he casually orders his medical team to lop off Murphy's salvageable arm just for sake of his own selfish vision.

But neither of these two weasels can hold a candle to the film's prime evil: Clarence Boddicker played by Kurtwood Smith. I'm going to go out on a limb here and make a bold claim: I believe that Clarence Boddicker is one of the greatest villains in cinema history. Here, let me lay out my case...

When we first meet the guy he's completely freaking out, verbally and physically assaulting his own cohorts for charring the cash they they just robbed from a bank. Not two seconds after Murphy and Lewis roll up on them in their squad car, Clarence gives his gang the order to open up on them like Tony Montana backed into a corner. And then, when one of his flunkies get shot in the leg, Clarence wrenches him close, asks "Can you fly, Bobby?" and then heaves him right out of the back of the van onto his pursuer's windshield!

Want more evidence that Clarence Boddicker is the number-one, bad-ass, stone-cold, pimp cinematic motherfucker of all time? Let me count the ways...

• He looks like the love child of Les Nessman and Heinrich Himmler.   
• "Bitches...leave!"
• "Just give me my fucking phone call." 
• The gift of gum.
• The best way to test out a new weapon? Use it on your buddy's new 6000 SUX.
• "Sayonara, RoboCop!" 
• "Well, give the man a hand!"
• He has absolutely no problem getting aggro with a mob boss.

As great as the character is written and as awesome as the dialogue is, it's the greasy assurance and crazed bombast of Kurtwood Smith and really brings Clarence to life. If you thought the dad on That 70's Show was intense wait until you get a load of him in this flick. Cold, calculating, arrogant, sexist, opportunistic, randomly violent and possessed of a craven self-preservation streak a mile long, Smith disappears within this vile role and sets the villainy bar impossibly high in the process.

Clarance's gang is fleshed out by a memorable pack of Grade-A assholes. Bug-eyed Ray Wise makes an impression as the ethically bankrupt Leon, Jesse Goins is appropriately annoying as the jackal-like Joe Cox and Paul McCrane is cheerfully anarchic as chief goon Emil Andenowski. The genuine enthusiasm he exhibits after trying out the Cobra Assault Cannon is almost infectious. 

Tons of stellar performances abound. Notwithstanding her character's monumental fuck up, Nancy Allen is both charming and convincingly tough as Ann Lewis. Robert DoQui is also very sympathetic as the put-upon Sergeant Warren Reed. Finally veteran actor Dan O'Herlihy is cheerfully unconscionable and deliberately oblivious as the "Old Man", OCP's Chairman. His delivery of "Dick, I'm very disappointed" after the ED-209 debacle is nothing short of epic.

The film's production design also strikes the perfect balance between contemporary and futuristic. The real world cop-shop contrasts nicely with the shiny environs of OCP, with its wall of monitors, splashy executive washrooms and exterior glass elevators. Augmented with expertly-crafted matte paintings, the then-relatively-new structures of downtown Dallas stand in for the Detroit skyline while a real steel mill in Pittsburgh provides an appropriately-gritty setting for the film's final confrontation.

For a pre-CGI flick, the special-effects still hold up quite well. Notwithstanding the fact that I could never understand why the bad guys just didn't shoot him right in the mush, the Robocop suit design is nothing short of iconic. ED-209 was cleverly realized using a full-scale, on-set prop combined with stop-motion model work, the jerky nature of which is actually quite forgiving when it comes to robotic animation. The inevitable brawl between Robocop and ED is clear, quick, brutal, and mercifully to the point.

Except for a jarringly-inept stop-motion puppet used in a few frames during the film's climax, the bulk of the special effects are actually pretty durned good. Particularly notable is the incredible makeup job done for Emil's close encounter with the toxic sludge vat. Not only is the full body prosthetic totally gross and convincing, it perfectly embodies Paul Verhoeven's fascination with blending humor with horror. The first time I saw this I was completely gobsmacked but now I think it's one of the funniest things I've ever seen. I just wish that Clarence would have made the scene perfect by turning on his windshield wipers for a seconds.

At the end of the film, when Lewis finds herself in pretty much the same shape that inspired Murphy's "upgrade" we get the following exchange between the two:

Lewis: Murphy... I'm a mess...
RoboCop: They'll fix you. They fix everything.

I always thought this presaged a sequel in which Lewis gets bull-rushed through her own MARK II Robocop process in order to save her life but then ends up going rogue. I still think that this would have been a better plot then the scatterbrained, trying-too-hard schlock that followed. Admittedly, I haven't seen Robocop 2 since it was in originally theaters so I'm keen to revisit it to see if it's as terrible as I remember.

Bottom line: the remake has a lot of potential for an interesting main character, over-the-top villains, creative action sequences and plenty of social satire but it has a lot to live up to. Hopefully it wont be the sort of inappropriate, poorly-designed dreck that OCP has no problem crapping off of an assembly line.     

          Tilt: up.

Movie Review: "W." by David Pretty

 
W. is a surprisingly soft-pitch biopic of the most polarizing U.S. President in its nation's history. It's milquetoast qualities are even more inexplicable when you realize that it was directed by Oliver Stone who gave us such incendiary classics as J.F.K. and Platoon.

Stone's film tries to cover a lot of ground, even taking us though "Dubya's" formative years as a carousing frat boy, his abandoned career paths, and issues with drugs and alcohol. At first he comes off as nothing more then an obnoxious, dim-witted, cut-up, but then something miraculous happens: Stone actually manages to generate some sympathy for the guy.

The film opines that the relationship between W. and his pops was downright adversarial. If we're to believe Stanley Weiser's script, George Junior was constantly compared to younger brother Jeb and felt buried under the weight of his own family's legacy. In fact, it wasn't until his father failed to secure a second term as President before W. gained the impetus to make his own bid for the White House.

Which brings me to the film's main thrust: that Bush sought to capture the most powerful seat of office in the world not because he thought he'd be good at the job but because he wanted to impress daddy. In retrospect, this is just as valid an explanation as any. It also speaks volumes as to why this half-baked plan didn't work out very well.

Although I was grossly disappointed that blatantly juicy areas of exploration (such as Bush's creepy "Skull and Bones" connection, charges of election-rigging and his bizarre reaction to 9/11) were either glossed over or jettisoned, I did gain a modicum of insight into the man's motivations. For example, in an early scene, after George looses a Congressional seat to a zealous local Democrat, he vows that he'll "never to be out-Christianed and out-Texaned ever again."

You also get the impression that Bush actually meant to do the right thing while in office but he was led completely astray by neo-con extremists who wanted to use their superior knowledge of geo-politics to bring about a "new world order". This is best illustrated in a chilling scene in which W.'s hawkish advisers make their case for the invasion of Iraq.

After Dick Cheney (played with masterful chicanery by Richard Dreyfuss) cynically observes that 40% of the world's oil traffic flows through the Persian Gulf and that the planet will soon reach peak oil production, he makes a coldly logical and compelling case for the invasion of Iraq. By marrying Iraqi freedom together with regional stability and America's continued dominance as an economic superpower, you begin to understand why Bush capitulated to Cheney's confident obfuscation. 

Wisely, most of the cast manages to avoid interpreting these people as broad SNL-style caricatures. Dreyfuss, as I've already mentioned, is quite good and you always get the impression that he's constantly scheming away at some sort of secret and nefarious agenda. Star Josh Brolin does an absolutely fantastic job capturing Bush's unique mannerisms and tics. The scene in which he's forced to contend with a hostile scrum or reporters is appropriately squirm-inducing.

James Cromwell as George H.W. Bush comes across as a human house of cards who's harsh appraisal of his own son conceals a reservoir of personal failings. I really value Cromwell's restraint in the role and could only imagine what a disaster it would have been if he'd attempted to do some sort of Dana Carvey-like impersonation. Jeffrey Wright's take on Colin Powell is a tad labored but his frustration is palpable and well-communicated.

The ladies also acquit themselves rather well. Ellen Burstyn continues to amaze with a nuanced interpretation of Barbara Bush. She's tough, maternal and sensible, often acting as a mediator and defender within her family. Since Laura Bush has always been a non-entity to me, it's great that Elizabeth Banks managed to realize her as appealing, supportive, and empathetic while still keeping her somewhat removed from her husband's trials and tribulations. Only Thandie Newton's broad, cartoonish take on Condoleezza Rice seemed out of place to me, bordering on parody at times.

Director Oliver Stone does a fine job keeping all of his story ducks in a row; no easy task when the script keeps jumping back and forth in time. Although his recurring use of the outfielder dream / nightmare motif effectively conveys Bush's state of mind at various pivotal points in time, it doesn't give us any real insight into the man himself. The script is like a resume checklist which dictates that a lot of things happen to this character, but we see precious few of the internal machinations which should result.

My biggest issue with the film, however, is that it just doesn't go far enough, ending just as Dubya starts to catch major heat over the Iraq insurgency. I get the impression that Stone didn't want to be accused of "piling on" or taking too partisan a stance on the guy. Although the film gave me a chance to view this oft-vilified man in a different light, it's also woefully non-committal and surprisingly tame when it should have been the biopic equivalent of a Texas brush fire.

      Tilt: down.