My Movie News

Out of the 9 of us who saw this movie the other day, only one said he really liked it. One said it was “okay”. The rest of us had less flattering things to say:

“I struggled to stay awake”

“The love scene was bizarre”

“It was so damn long”

“This movie was lame”

“WTF?”

That last one was me – what the fudge? Actually, I was the one who said all those things, but I’m pretty certain most of us shared the sentiments. While it wasn’t a terrible film (there are indeed some special moments), it failed to portray Watchmen as “one of the most celebrated graphic novels of all time”. The remedy? Read on.

1. Cut the Length

It’s 9pm on a Friday. You’ve had a long day. Minor inconveniences forced you to rush to the theater, so you didn’t get to use the bathroom beforehand.  Two hours into the film and you’re just waiting for it to end, because A.) you’re tired, and B.) you need to pee.

I know this isn’t the movie’s fault. But I think the length wouldn’t have mattered so much if it just didn’t feel long. Watchmen felt so unending especially for a film that skimps on action and insists on incesssant dialogue. Which brings me to my next point:

2. Increase the ratio of action to dialogue

I’m not a fan of excessive, mindless action; I prefer a conversation-laden film. But a movie of this magnitude requires a certain level of visual excitement to remain relevant. Yes, the story strays from the usual superficial superhero superflick as it had important things to say. I suppose it would be unfair to blame the writers for my own failure to keep up with Manhattan’s long-winded thesis on corruption, the human condition, morality and all its millions of implications. There was just too much to digest within a three hour frame. It was a case of too much being said, with too little being done. Watching this movie on mute would be no fun.

3. Create better aesthetics

The trailer leads us to expect something dark, mysterious and sophisticated.  Something visually sleek, rich and less flashy – something visionary. But the trailer was deceptive. True, the tone was more subdued and it relied less on saturated hues and excessive explosions and random car chases and such…but there was a low-caliber feel to it all. Maybe it was the costumes. I know they’re based on old designs, but was there not a way to modernize them – to decheesify them for contemporary cinema? I’m specifically referring to Silk Spectre’s weird vinyl get-up, and Night Owl’s Batman knock-off with the cheap night-vision goggles. Rorschach’s shifting ink-blot mask was pretty rad – and that’s all I have to say about that!

4. Change the cast

Rorschach was an interesting character – but only with his “face” on. Otherwise he reminded me a tad of Danny Bonnaduce – not quite how I picture  my masked mavens. Matthew Goode’s Ozymandias resembled an effeminate 80’s new wave pop star, in both appearance and mannerisms. This is not a criticism, just an observation. The last time I saw Malin Akerman was in 27 Dresses as the younger, snottier, blond sister. I couldn’t fully accept her as Silk Spectre. She wasn’t bad, but I just wasn’t feeling it. Billy Crudup was well-suited as Dr. Manhattan, but the blue, emotionally-muted character almost easily plays itself. I suppose each actor on their own was more or less fine, but as a whole there was something missing, something that would unify the cast like X-Men or Justice League or other superhero clans who band together to thwart evil forces. I would also vote to include more of the gorgeous Carla Gugino, who was grossly under-used and accelerated in age. A far cry from those Bon Jovi days.

5. Remove soundtrack oddities

There were two important scenes with well-chosen songs: The beginning with “Times Are A-Changin”, by Bob Dylan, which signaled a very promising start, and the funeral scene with “Sound of Silence” by Simon and Garfunkel, supporting important flashbacks in the midst of a sombre moment. Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” seemed oddly misplaced, an oddness that only added to the already laughably awkward moment. You know which one I’m talking about.

I know people out there will object to these five points, claiming that Watchmen is an “intelligent” film, and anyone who can’t appreciate the movie surely isn’t intellectually equipped for it. They’ll say that we only want action without substance, words without meaning and characters without complexity. And I’ll whisper “No!”

Watchmen does indeed tell a stellar story, one that asks us to challenge the very notion of “superheroes”, to examine the repercussions of putting all our faith into our leaders and thereby relinquishing our own personal responsibility - politically, socially and morally. It’s not a story that forces us to completely suspend our belief and succumb to make-believe the way Superman or Spiderman do (The Dark Knight will always remain in a class all its own). Watchmen, though set in an alternate reality, seems more rooted in real life than other works of fiction, as the layers of social commentary are rife with a certain profundity that ultimately, just does not translate well to the big screen.

While it warrants important discussions, the story is reduced to a second-rate sci-fi reel, which only makes me wonder how much better the film would’ve been were Alan Moore on board. His refusal probably had something to do with DC screwing him over, and I completely understand that. But it could’ve made all the difference if the guy who created Watchmen were at least consulted.

Then again, perhaps my criticisms are all trivial; maybe I’m nit-picking only because I can’t quite pin-point exactly why I didn’t like it. All I know is that I didn’t. The movie medium just could not wholly articulate the heavy discourse I assume Moore intended, while the ambitions of the filmmakers seemed to exceed the comprehending capacity of the average viewer.

Given our short attention span they might have better luck if they take on Minutemen.

What do you think?

If you knew a movie was going to be REALLY bad, would you watch it anyway?

The logical thing would be not to, but as Street Fighter proves, logic can be a limited resource.

I knew from the trailer that this film would feature amateur fight sequences, absurd dialogue, cheesy special effects and some of the worst acting I would ever legally witness. Studios the world over should sue this production for calling itself a “film”, because it misses the mark on so many levels and brings its genre down to a whole new low, if that were even possible.

Damn, where to even start. It starts off with the drabbest narrator ever. Kristin Kreuk as Chun-Li sounds like she’s channeling her former Smallville self, Lana Lang with her unconvincing read of a poorly written text that only serves to highlight the movie’s inadequacies, such as effective dialogue, visual cues, and proper pacing. The narration is simply a way to skimp on actual story development – a shortcut device. Instead of letting the viewer intuitively figure out the plot’s progression, the voice-over spells it all out.

I don’t even remember the details of the movie, except that it begins with a young Chun-Li learning what looks like Tai Chi with her father. Then one day he gets kidnapped by Bison and his thugs. Fast-forward to present day and Chun-Li finds herself in Thailand, looking for the perpetrators, or a man who could lead her to answers – or something. She lives and fights on the streets, and meets a guy named Spider, (aka Lui Kang from Mortal Kombat) who helps her harness her inner powers and become a lethal warrior of sorts. And a slew of other characters come into play, played by the likes of Michael Clarke Duncan and Taboo from The Black Eyed Peas, who’s presence was pretty inconsequential. Cringe-inducing dialogue occurs at every turn (Chun-Li says to Vega, “If I had a face like yours, I’d wear a mask too” – wow, genius). But what could you really expect from a movie who’s most profound (and thrice used) line is “Sometimes you have to stand up, even when standing isn’t easy.” Whatever you say, T.J. Hooker!

The one actor that really boggled my mind was Chris Klein, who it seems, was just plucked from post-American Pie obscurity and dropped into this pseudo-blockbuster barf bucket. That’s gross, I know, but Klein’s razzy-inspired performance was pretty revolting, easily among the most ridiculous there’s ever been. (Sorry, I don’t mean to be mean but that’s all I can be after seeing what I’ve seen!) Was he just playing, or were the sleazeball snarls and jerky sneers part of his usual acting arsenal, even when it was uncalled for? I mean, he was supposed to be the good guy for goodness sakes! Watching his slime-infested line recitals made me feel so visually-violated – I’ve really never seen such a thing. However, I have considered that maybe – just maybe – he was all too aware of how bad this movie was and thought it would be clever to give a purposefully poor performance – this is highly plausible – but it doesn’t make watching him any less painful. I’m pretty sure the director gave him one of the tombstone props off the set and said “Here Chris, give this to your career.”

Fortunately, amidst all the movie-viewing agony, there was a faint saving grace, and I emphasize faint, because this movie is irredemptive. The one light at the end of it all, Kristin Kreuk, was surprisingly impressive (aside from the bland narration). In fact, it really seemed as if she was the only actor who took the whole project seriously (poor thing). She capably channeled her inner street fighter, working with whatever scraps were handed to her, and for someone who isn’t a martial artist, pulled off the fight scenes relatively well. (Of course, the fight scenes were pretty craptacular, thanks to the practically visible wire work, but that wasn’t her fault). Honestly, Kristin Kreuk was my only real reason for watching this campy, should’ve-gone-straight-to-DVD B-no make that a C-movie.

After only a couple weeks, I think they’ve already completely pulled it out of theaters. That’s how bad it was. The end of the film tries to hint at a possible Ryu-centered third Street Fighter installment. But in the infamous words of G-Dubbya B, ”Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice… and you can’t fool me thrice!” (Ok so he didn’t quite say that). But it’s pretty safe to assume the Street Fighter franchise has been sufficiently annihilated.

I haven’t seen any new movies lately, so I’ll review one I saw a while ago that I just never got around to writing about. And since this movie didn’t fare as well as expected at the box office, chances are many of you have been missing out.

Seven Pounds is a film unlike any I’ve seen in a long time. It follows the journey of a man named Ben Thomas (Will Smith) who’s on a mission to change the lives of seven strangers. But not just any group of seven; he’s interested only in those truly in need, are noble and not likely to take his gifts for granted. Because you see, he isn’t on a mission to dole out donations, but to drastically alter the circumstances of these individuals.

Ben’s existence is seeped in mystery and the questions dart forth from the very beginning. For example, why is he trying to change lives? Why does he hole himself up in a lowly motel room? Why is he avoiding his brother? And what deal did he make with his best friend? His character is a complex one; serious, mysterious, strange and saintly. Smith skillfully plays his part – a man troubled by personal demons, whose emotional inferno is carefully concealed by a placid exterior.  His motives are initially unclear and figuring him out is like solving a Sudoku puzzle, on level hard.

That difficult task is left up to Rosario Dawson, whose stunning presence is a seduction of the senses. She glows with an angelic radiance that highlights an otherwise morose and gloomy film. The chemistry between Smith and Dawson entirely anchors the film’s emotional angle, lending reasonable credibility to the movie’s central conflicts. Credible, however unrealistic. If it seems I’m being overly vague about the important details, there’s a reason for it.

I read in another review that this movie is best viewed without prior knowledge of the film, and I completely agree. It’s better to go in knowing as little as possible so you can submit yourself to the films surprises. Mind you, these “surprises” may be predictable to saavier viewers. Admittedly, I was able to guess the ending halfway through the film. (Ok, so being saavy has nothing to do with it!) But even as the climax approaches the viewer’s line of vision long before it arrives, the emotional impact is still unexpected. And that’s the strength of this movie.

But it is far from perfect. Employing a slow place, somber mood and non-linear trajectory, the film draws us in, while keeping us at a safe distance – like a magician urging us to stay back while insisting we pay close attention. That divide between viewer and viewed may induce restlessness and even frustration because we don’t feel truly involved; we’re merely spectators blindly navigating an aimless maze.

In the end however, there lies a greater message. And if you can forgive the preachiness, sometimes tediousness and even – dare I say – weirdness of the whole film, there’s a powerful commentary on the gift of life, of selflessness and sacrifice. If you think too hard about the small details you’ll invariably get confused – but if you let yourself feel the emotional weight of the film, your heart will thank you for it.

A few weeks ago the Dark Knight was finally dethroned after dominating the box-office for most of the summer. It was bound to happen eventually, but I was hoping it would break more records, say, the longest-running number one movie in history for instance – you know, something like that.

Maybe film-goers got tired of draping their summer days with so much darkness, tired of being “so serious”. Perhaps they were ready for a film that could deliver more by way of raucous, provocative fun, crude, uninhibited humor; a film of the pungently offensive variety without all the silliness and stupidity of “Disaster Movie” (and all its variations).

That film came storming in the form of Tropic Thunder, courtesy of Ben Stiller accompanied by a notorious cast including Robert Downey Jr., Jack Black, Nick Nolte and “My Hometown” hero, Montreal’s own Jay Baruchel. By now everyone knows about Tom Cruise’s covert appearance, which was cleverly concealed during the marketing process. His performance is quite outrageous and somewhat embarrassing, yet I applaud the man for his rowdy antics in the film. I didn’t think Scientology permitted such vulgarity! But religious beliefs aside, Tom’s a  cool guy, and his role did generate a lot of internet buzz, and that I suppose, translates into more dividends for movie execs (which coincidentally, is what he plays in the movie).

Buzz seemed to be what carried the film along for a while. At first, I wondered what the entire hullabaloo was for. There was so much controversy surrounding the film, with all the protests and headlines. Then came the accolades. Rolling Stone called it “…a knockout of a comedy that keeps you laughing constantly”, while I was still waiting to emit a heart-felt chuckle. Juvenile nonsense, I thought, just another distasteful satire trudging on treacherously offensive territory. Yes, it is offensive, that can’t be denied.  But the truth is the laughs eventually arrived, and when they did, they plummeted like a tropical downpour – sporadically, yet forcefully.

Robert Downey Jr. is responsible for inciting much of that laughter, thanks to an irreverent character, brilliantly portrayed, further extending his thespian range. He’s practically the focal point of the film, as though all humor hinges on his screen presence, regardless of whether or not he delivers the funny line. He’s Kirk Lazarus, an Australian Oscar-winner who undergoes a skin pigmentation process to turn himself black. Sure, political correctness might label it racist, or tasteless, but it’s clear the intentions were not malicious. His character is completely oblivious to the racial implications and innapropriate overtones. Besides Ben Stiller knows better, and probably assumes the audience does as well. The line between hateful and humorous can often be ambiguous, but unlike Michael Richards, he manages to teeter that border and come out the better end. What shocked me the most about Stiller however, were the size of his arms – they were huge! An instant Joey – Whoa! – moment, right there.

Jack Black is also very funny. Especially when he tries to be funny – which is all the time, like in all of his films. But of course, that is to be expected. Jack does here what he does best – make people laugh. Well, he makes me laugh, anyway. With his blond mop, and that eternally quizzical expression he wears. It’s kind of, dare I say, cute. Like a panda. A cuddly, clumsy, heroin-addict panda.

Jay Baruchel, and Brandon T. Jackson are fine contenders amidst their heavyweight counterparts. In fact, their inclusion is what saves the film from being a completely tawdry catastrophe. I can only imagine what debauchery might have ensued had these young’uns not been present to restrain the man-boys from their relentless lunacy. Case in point, it is Jackson’s character who tells Kirk “You’re Australian – be Australian!”

In the end however, it’s not a movie I would rush to see again. But if someone happened to be watching it on DVD, I would dash in to see all those funny parts, those moments of gut-busting, lung-exhausting hilarity. But of course, I wouldn’t stay there for long, because while the merriment is many, it sure isn’t plenty. Yes, the movie does gain momentum at the first hit of laughter, but like any storm, it eventually dies down, leaving in its wake a flurry of debris and destruction, or in this case, just the faint suspicion that one could’ve waited for the rental.