2012 in Review: Most Surprising

2012 was a good and surprising year for film. As the year draws to a close, it's the surprises I want to focus on first. I love it when a film is more than I expected or different (in a good way) than I hoped.

Here's a look back at my biggest cinema surprises of 2012:

The Queen of Versailles
Directed by Lauren Greenfield
Available on DVD, digital download

During 2012's divisive Presidential campaign, a timeshare mogul named David Siegel sent a letter to his employees telling them it was in their own best interests to cast their votes for Mitt Romney. You see, according to Siegel's logic, another Obama term meant higher taxes for the wealthy so that meant he would have to begin to lay people off. So the message was: my guy wins or you lose your job.

The Queen of Versailles began its life as a way to document Siegel, his wife, Jackie, and their attempts to build the largest house in the United States--a 90,000 square foot behemoth the couple dub "Versailles" after the royal chateau in France. In the middle of construction, the financial crisis necessitates a very different type of film. As Siegel's timeshare business feels the crunch of banks turning off their spigots, construction stops and the family must face some harsh financial realities.

While nothing about the Siegels is subtle and its hard to feel sorry for a family whose idea of cutting back is having to continue to live in their 30,000 square foot home, The Queen of Versailles does a good job of providing a bit of humanity to the so-called 1%. While I will never support or be able to grasp the arrogance of David Siegel's election email to his employees, The Queen of Versailles helped me understand why he did it: survival.

Wreck-It-Ralph
Directed by Rich Moore
Featuring the voices of John C. Reilly, Sarah Silverman, Jane Lynch

I never thought I would be able to say this, but am pretty happy I can: this year, with Wreck-It-Ralph, Disney came out ahead of Pixar.

While Pixar's Brave was a disappointment--plodding and obvious--Wreck-It-Ralph was full of unabashed joy. This story of an old-school video game villain searching for his place in the (virtual) world is a charming confection full of fun and funny. Wreck-It-Ralph went retro to capture the hearts of nostalgic adults with nods to Nintendo and Atari (a down-and-out Q-Bert!), but also included more contemporary video game staples, including Calhoun, a bad-ass sergeant (voiced by the fabulous Jane Lynch) trying to stop a big, bad bug invasion within a Candy-Land-like racing game.

Calhoun wasn't the only great female in Wreck-It-Ralph: Sarah Silverman plays Vanellope, a candy-colored would-be race driver who discovers what she's truly capable of. In a year where Pixar wanted little girls to connect with Brave's Merida, Wreck-It-Ralph offered better female role models and more for everyone to cheer about.

Skyfall
Directed by Sam Mendes
Starring Daniel Craig, Judy Dench, Javier Bardem
Now in Theaters

Before I talk about Skyfall, I want to address Quantum of Solace--Bond's last outing. I didn't get it at first. It's a heavy film; one that's much more severe in tone than any other Bond. Since that initial viewing, I've had the opportunity to see Quantum as it was intended: as an extension of Craig-as-Bond's first film, Casino Royale. Quantum picks up as Royale ends with Bond looking to understand the betrayal and death of Vespa Lynd, a woman that had him convinced to give up Queen and Country. Both films feed into one another with the tone coming around to a much more somber and subdued Bond than we've seen before.

And that's what made Skyfall such a surprise.

While Skyfall starts with a brooding and broken Bond, he finds his wry wit again setting up future Bond films for a much a lighter and familiar tone (although think more Sean Connery than Pierce Brosnan). Add to that: a fabulously devious and not-to-be-forgotten villain (Bardem), solid pacing, and action enough to make the film feel brisker than its 143 minute run time.

I do have a few complaints--most namely the end of an era (if you've seen the movie, you'll known what I mean)--but Skyfall made me excited to see what happens next.

Stay tuned--my favorite and most disappointing movies of 2012 to come!

G.B.U. Review: Looper (2012)

Directed by Rian Johnson

Starring Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Bruce Willis, Emily Blunt, Jeff Daniels

Now Available on DVD, Digital Download

Gordon-Levitt and Willis star as young and old versions of Joe, a "looper"--basically a hitman whose targets are sent back in time to him from the future by his employer, an all-powerful crime syndicate. The pay is good, but the benefits suck: A looper's contract is up when he's forced to kill his 30 years older self aka "closing the loop." Needless to say, Old Joe refuses to go quietly into that good night. 

The Good: Looper offers an interesting, if thin as presented, premise. Johnson creates a world that looks a lot like our own, but--given the year is 2044--adds enough touches to remind you that you're in the future. He imbues everything with the same sodden colors and heavy atmosphere as his previous films, such as the fantastic Brick. The acting is all fine, but the scenes with Jeff Daniels bring a much needed lightness to an otherwise very somber film. 

The Bad: The last third of the film focuses on a subplot involving a little boy who may or may not grow up to be a killer crime lord that's prematurely closing loops in the future. While this does come back around to the main story about Joe, the introduction of the boy and his mother (played by Blunt) feels slapdash--like I was watching another movie laid over the original. 

The Ugly: While I appreciate the filmmakers attention to detail, Gordon-Levitt's prosthetics to make him look more like Old Joe, that is Willis, were a bit distracting. 

The Bottom Line: There's a great film in the idea of having to kill your future self (and that future self knowing you're coming), but Looper isn't quite it. Despite my misgivings though, Looper is still a really solid and entertaining entry in the sci-fi genre. 

Rating: 6.5 out of 10

Review: Django Unchained (2012)

Directed by Quentin Tarantino

Starring Jamie Foxx, Christoph Waltz, Leonardo DiCaprio

Rating: 9 out of 10

Quentin Tarantino’s Django Unchained is everything fans of the writer/director have come to expect: violent, offensive, and uncomfortably funny. It is also an important and brutal film about America’s uneasy relationship with slavery and racism. 

The second film in what Tarantino calls his “revisionist history” period, Django Unchained begins in the dead of night with German dentist-turned-bounty-hunter, Dr. King Schultz (another brilliant performance from German TV star, now Tarantino favorite Christoph Waltz), stopping a couple of slave traders taking their bloody and bound “property” through the backwoods of Texas. Schultz is looking for one specific man--Django (Jamie Foxx), a slave whose previous owners are wanted for murder. 

Schultz, who sees the parallels between what he does and slavery (“I trade bodies for money.”), nevertheless finds the idea of and the people connected with slavery abhorrent. He is the film’s reluctant moral core even as he admits that purchasing Django--despite his intention to give the man his freedom--will allow Schultz to make money by identifying and killing his bounty. 

Eventually, the two find Django’s previous owners and, while Django earns his freedom, the former slave shows a natural marksman talent, making him a perfect partner for Schultz, who feels a strange responsibility for the man he once, albeit briefly and for a singular purpose, owned. That partnership grows into a friendship as Schultz agrees to help Django find and buy freedom for his wife, Broomhilda--a former house slave who was so brutally punished for an escape attempt that her scars only make her acceptable for the job of providing men “comfort.” 

She is owned by Calvin Candie (Leonardo DiCaprio), a charming and giddy man who treats black people like dogs and commodities, seeing no issue with fighting them for his own amusement while pondering why they don’t rise up and kill their owners. Schultz and Django hatch a plan to make them the welcome guests of Candie’s southern plantation (appropriately named “Candie Land”) and, hopefully, through a fair amount of subterfuge, buy Broomhilda her freedom. 

With Django Unchained, Tarantino has made, what in modern times and on paper, must have seemed like an impossible film. It's unflinching in its portrayal of America’s relationship to slavery. Even in the film’s most absurdly hilarious moments--there’s one in particular involving a discussion of KKK masks--there’s an underlying heartlessness and cruelty that makes the laughter awkward and frightening. While the film is never uncomfortable with itself, it wants its audience--no matter their race--to feel uneasy.  Unlike historical dramas, Django holds a mirror up to the audience, not allowing them to take a scholastic approach to slavery and the backwards ideas that allowed it to happen. 

By being so entertaining, Django makes the audience complicit in the history, in the brutality. In this way, Tarantino has pulled off something amazing--a film that deserves more than cult status, one that should be studied and talked about. One that could have been a masterpiece. 

And then Tarantino got self-indulgent. 

Sadly, the last 20 minutes of Django devolve into a revenge fantasy. This is all the more disappointing  because these waning moments begin with a stunning and powerful scene between Candie and Schultz--two men who have vastly different relationships to slavery but have both used it as a means to an end. It could be argued that given the fact that Django is intended as a throwback to spaghetti westerns that Tarantino’s choice to make the main character something just short of a superhero in the final frames could be excused.  But, given what comes before it, I would have preferred an ending that was less bloody and not as neatly wrapped up. 

Django Unchained is and will continue to be a controversial film. It can’t be easily categorized or discussed. There are few heroes and some of the monsters are easier to like. It is a challenging and violent film that won’t be for everyone, but wrapped not-so-tightly in Tarantino’s signature dialogue and humor, is a conversation about our past and what it says about our humanity. 

Review: Cloud Atlas

Directed by Tom Tykwer, Andy Wachwski, Lana Wachowski

Starring Tom Hanks, Halle Berry, Hugo Weaving

Rating: 5 out of 10

Cloud Atlas is a movie that’s easier to admire than love. It’s a big, bold, ambitious affair that left me impressed by the telling, but not with the tale.

Directed by Tom Tykwer, Andy Wachowski, and Lana Wachowski, Cloud Atlas has one of the most impressive casts of the year: Tom Hanks, Halle Berry, Jim Broadbent, Huge Weaving, Hugh Grant, Susan Surandon, Keith David, and Ben Whishaw. Everyone plays several characters through a series of stories taking place over hundreds of years. Many times the actors, buried under make-up, are unrecognizable.

Yes, that's Hugh Grant. Imagine Julia Roberts in the scene from Notting Hill standing opposite him. 

To give away the stories—which span from the days of slavery to a time far, far in the future—would be to spoil the movie's main strength: Cloud Atlas does an extraordinary job of layering each tale so that the interlocking and interwoven stories can be told simultaneously, right on top of one  another. The film slips effortlessly into each narrative, sometimes in bursts of just a few minutes or seconds.

That isn’t to say every story works, but there is something for everyone: a murder mystery full of greed and corruption; a raucous comedy-adventure with Jim Broadbent leading a great escape; a Blade Runner-esque dystopian tale; and others. I admire what the filmmakers have done here. While I haven’t read the book upon which the film is based, I understand that it was how to tell these rich, layered stories that caused concern with fans. No worry needed on that front.

The problem with Cloud Atlas is there’s so much going on that it’s difficult, if not impossible to connect with any of the characters. There are people to root for and those to jeer in each story, but you never stay with them long enough to care about their situation, wonder about their motivations, or really become involved in their story. Add to that: I can understand the device behind having each actor play several characters, but the effect is often distracting as I essentially found myself playing “Where’s Waldo?” with the film’s massive cast.

The prerequisite Cloud Atlas picture of Tom Hanks and Halle Berry.

Brother and sister team Andy and Lana Wachowski are probably best known for writing and directing the Matrix films. I have the same problem with Cloud Atlas that I have with the last two films in that series: it’s beautifully executed and a sight to behold, but the final product is cold and robotic. To be sure, Cloud Atlas has moments of humor, heart, and wonder, but is a mediocre film at best.  This package, however, is handed to its audience in the most exquisite wrapping; it’s a gorgeous film and an impressive feat of direction, but despite these accomplishments, Cloud Atlas is not a great movie. 

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Book Review: Fifty Shades of Grey

I still play World of Warcraft. (The reason for this admission will become relevant. Stay with me.)

One of my favorite things to do in WoW is to take one of my high-level, geared healers and go along on low-level dungeons. There's something great about when a tank realizes that unless he does something catastrophically stupid, he can't die. I think of it as a public service.

And that's why I've read Fifty Shades of Grey. As a public service. And so you don't have to.

Fifty Shades of Grey, otherwise known, in some circles, as "mommy porn", started its life as Twilight fan fiction. That's right, boys and girls, it was originally Bella and Edward doing the nasty with duct tape and belt straps. The story goes that the mods of the fan fiction site the stories were posted on took the material down because it wasn't in line with the good ol' fashioned no biting, er, sex until marriage as prescribed by the Mormon church. All the better for author E.L. James, who took her sex fantasies, packaged them into three books, and is now a multi-millionaire.

Fifty Shades of Grey is the first book in the series. It's about a naive recent college grad named Anastasia Steele and her affair with Christian Grey, a slightly older, incredibly wealthy businessman with mommy issues. Steele is a repressed virgin; Grey has a room in his house devoted to bondage and S&M play. Oh, we have to get these crazy kids together!

And together they come. Wait, that didn't...I...you see.... Moving on.

Nothing much happens during the first quarter of the book. He moves between being an jackass and a gentleman. She's conflicted about taking up with a man that she finds rude and repulsive, yet makes her, erm, loins pulse? He takes her on a helicopter ride and gets jealous over her only male friend. Her friends think he's an ass but push her towards him. Yadda, yadda.

When sex finally shows up, it's with the tittering of junior high schoolers talking about "doing it." That is, it feels disconnected from anything resembling reality. Anastasia loses her virginity (something she has held onto until her early 20s so it must have been kinda important to her, right?) to Grey, a man whose idea of foreplay is to present Anastasia with a multi-page contract outlining what she can eat and wear as well as what sexual acts will define their relationship. About that contract: despite his assertions that the rules are for both of them, it defines her role as his sexual slave (he's the dominant). By signing, she becomes a toy he can take out of its box to tie up in private and dress up for the public. While Anastasia takes a kind of lethargic offense to the idea of the contract, that doesn't stop her from spending the majority of her time outside Grey's so-called "Red Room of Pain" (it is what it sounds like) thinking about signing it just so she and Grey can be together.

Let me repeat that: this 21st century, college educated woman spends her waking moments so consumed with the idea of bagging a rich, good-looking guy that she doesn't really balk at the idea of signing a contract in which she is reduced to a commodity. A contract that would give him control because, according to him, that's the way things need to be. Add to that, it's clear early on that this guy has serious mommy issues and might even possibly be a sociopath. Not only does Anastasia not hop on the first train/plane/mule out of town, she plays the submissive at every turn, letting him be the white knight to her proverbial damsel-in-distress, while not thinking it strange that he has a way of showing up unannounced at the most opportune times. Apparently, it's not stalking if he's rich enough.

All that aside, a book like this is supposed to be all about the carnal interludes. Bad news: they aren't particularly sexy or dangerous. I won't lie, there are moments where the book felt like a honest piece of erotica and not the mad ravings of a repressed housewife, but Fifty Shades being sold as erotica is disingenuous: this book isn't about sex; it's about the idea of snagging a rich, powerful, good-looking guy who puts his woman on a pedestal. Like Stephanie Meyer--who destroyed vampire lore and feminism in her series--Jones clearly believes that all a woman really wants is a man who makes all the other ladies swoon and has a bank account big enough to make sure she's well taken care of.

Some may say books like Fifty Shades and Twilight, these forays romantic debauchery, are harmless. Are they? We now have an entire generation of teens who think that there's something romantic about what is essentially stalking and that love is defined not by compromise, but by being willing to give up everything and everyone that defines you.  Oh, and that a perfectly healthy response to being jilted by "true love" is curling into the fetal position and considering suicide. How is any of that harmless? I'm not saying there isn't room in erotic fiction for very soft books like Fifty Shades, but does it deserve to have a place at the front of the genre with millions of fans who use it to define their romantic lives? I would say no.

I've written a lot so far and haven't even touched on the writing, which is atrocious. The books began their life as self-published digital downloads and I don't think Vintage Books did much in the way of editing when they picked the series up for print. A good editor might have really made a difference here. I don't think I would've liked the story any better, but it certainly would have made the whole thing more readable. As it was, I found myself editing through James' syntax issues and poor word choices (those of you who have read it will understand when I say that I don't think she knows what the word 'murmur' means....) as I read. Plus, it's too long with rambling passages that do nothing to further the characters or the story. I think it might be possible to read just every other page and feel like you've missed nothing.

Fifty Shades of Grey is not a good book: it's overwritten and its notions about male/female dynamics are just silly. With that said, there are moments of tantalizing eroticism with a hint at their psychological underpinnings that tease at a much more interesting story; a story I kept hoping would rise above all of James' anti-feminist babble. The book ends with the possibility of Anastasia coming into her own self, her independence. I'm betting that doesn't last though--there are two more books in the series.