Cinetology

All about the cinema

The Twilight Saga: New Moon film review: only for Twi-hards

November 20, 2009 – 6:48 pm, by Luke Buckmaster

newmoon

The phenomenal success of the Twilight and Harry Potter books prove great fortunate can be found in the arena of high school and adolescent coming of age stories, provided tales of classroom dramas, puberty blues and extra curriculum shenanigans can be mingled with more risqué supplements. Harry Potter brought magic, wizards and witches to the play ground; Twilight brings vampires. Other (better) movies have mingled the school setting with concepts like thriller noir (Brick) and politics (Election). Mark my word, it’s just a matter of time until the western genre is revamped with a book/movie series set in cowboy freakin academy, where pubescent six-shooting wannabes go to school to learn the ways of the pistol and, stuffed to the gills with innuendo, the show follows their exploits as they learn how to ride a horse, throw a lasso, refrain from firing their gun too soon…
And, if a hybrid series comes along, how to kill these pesky new age Twilight vampires who play by their own rules and brazenly dishonour long-held traditions of their vampiric predecessors. They are somewhat revisionist blood-suckers – sunlight doesn’t kill them but it does make them sparkle (sigh) and there is nary a mention of garlic or silver – but, if you believe the hype, they are apparently vampires nevertheless.
But Twilight is not a series about vampires or werewolves (though it features both) – it’s a cheesy soap opera about an angsty chick with a crush. Her name Bella (Kristen Stewart) whose blood (correct me if I’m wrong Twi-hards – I know you will anyway) smells particularly potent, or fruity, or something, so naturally her boyfriend is the town’s sexiness vampire Edward (Robert Pattinson) who lusts for her but won’t bite or have sex with her. At least not until instalment #3 or #4. He is 109 years old but has the bod of 19-year-old model.
After a sticky incident at a social gathering Edward decides that being around Bella is bad for her health – no duh – so he moves away and spends most of the movie periodically returning as a half-rendered hologram. In Edward’s absence a new boy muscles in on the scene; his name is Jake (Taylor Lautner) and he’s a werewolf, and werewolves, you see, are perpetually at war with vampires. You might call it a fire and brimstone love triangle but that would imply there was palpable passion or excitement involved. Jake spends much of the story trying to get to first and second base while Bella longs for Edward’s return. Nuf said.
What really surprises about Twilight: New Moon is not that it’s dopey, dumb or low-brow – it’s the startling lack of conviction that lethargically weeps from every inch of the frame, when it can be bothered. The visual structure is bare and vacuous and the special effects are lacklustre. More alarmingly, the actors can’t be assed putting effort into what they’re saying, listlessly enunciating the dialogue like they’re suffering from sleep deprivation or have down a few too many valiums and a spiked drink or two. Makeup on the pasty-faced vampires is so off-putting it makes you wanna walk up to the actors and wipe the white gunk off their faces.
Robert Pattinson appears to have been directed simply to “look cool” on every occasion. Instruction from director Chris Weitz (About a Boy, The Golden Compass) went something like this: “walk across the street…looking cool! Open the door…looking cool! Look at her longingly…looking cool!” But cool this movie is not and neither is he. In fact, if Twlight is your idea of cool, you need some kinda masochistic self-help package: may I suggest inserting a clove of garlic or two where the sun don’t shine, sitting on the pointy end of a silver blade, frying on a banana lounge in the sun and while grapping with your much deserved self-afflicted agony taking a long hard look at yourself.
The profligacy of naked immaculately toned male upper torsos in this movie is staggering; one could be excused for thinking that the town of Forks (where th series is set) enforces some kind of weird arcane rule law that every young man must be buff, polished-teethed Fabio appreciators and must, must, must, be showcasing their flat chests and six packs at all times. This is taken to ridiculously excessive extremes, so much so that Twilight: New Moon deserves to be pegged as soft, soft, soft porn – a pubescent Mills and Boon stomach-turner jazzed up by a half-assed supernatural twist. Lame.

Red lightThe phenomenal success of the Twilight and Harry Potter franchises prove there is great fortunate to be found in the arena of high school and adolescent coming of age stories, provided tales of classroom dramas, puberty blues and extra curriculum shenanigans can be mingled with more risqué supplements. Harry Potter brought magic, wizards and witches to the play ground; Twilight brings vampires. Other (better) movies have combined high school settings with concepts like thriller noir (Brick) and politics (Election). Mark my word, it’s just a matter of time until the western genre is revamped with a book/movie series set in cowboy freakin academy, where pubescent six-shooting wannabes go to school to learn the ways of the pistol and, stuffed to the gills with innuendo, the show follows their exploits as they learn how to ride a horse, throw a lasso, refrain from firing their gun too quickly…

And, if a hybrid series comes along, how to kill these pesky new age Twilight-brand vampires who play by their own rules and brazenly dishonour long-held traditions maintained by their vampiric predecessors. They are somewhat revisionist blood-suckers – sunlight doesn’t kill them but it does make them sparkle (sigh) and there is nary a mention of garlic or silver in New Moon – but, if you believe the hype, they are vampires nevertheless.

However, Twilight is not a series about vampires or werewolves (though it features both) – it’s a cheesy soap opera about an angsty chick with a crush. Her name Bella (Kristen Stewart) whose blood (correct me if I’m wrong Twi-hards – I know you will anyway) smells particularly potent, or fruity, or something, so naturally her boyfriend is the town’s sexiest vampire Edward (Robert Pattinson) who lusts for her but won’t bite or have sex with her. At least not until installment #3 or #4. He is 109 years old but has the bod of 19-year-old Kmart model. Read More »

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Paranormal Activity film review: no frills fear

November 19, 2009 – 9:52 am, by Luke Buckmaster

Paranormal Activity poster

Just when it looked certain that the eerie success encountered by The Blair Witch Project was a once-off – after all, it’s been ten years since that faux DIY freaking-out-in-the-woods spook fest became an international box office behemoth – another American film financed on a similarly miniscule budget has been greeted with similarly phenomenal success.
Paranormal Activity is a bogus home movie about a young couple who try to capture on film a malevolent ghost who haunts them at night. It’s a no-frills camcorder-shot thriller that cost around US$11,000 to make, a figure not too far off the cost of sandwich catering for your average Hollywood studio flick. Like Blair Witch, Paranormal Activity is contrived to appear as if it were shot by the participants themselves, their footage later “discovered” and released worldwide in feature film format – for posterity and public awareness, of course, and nothing to do with collecting dosh at the box office. But the film’s most telling similarity to Blair Witch is the manner with which it was promoted and distributed, particularly the use of innovative online marketing strategies that have proved remarkably effective in flogging that timeless commercial adage: sell the sizzle and not the sausage.
Katie (Katie Featherston) is convinced that an evil spirit is following her and Micah (Micah Sloat) is the obligatory nonbeliever who laughs in the face of all this oogie boogie nonsense, the audience silently assured that he will suffer for his contemptuous nay saying. The foolhardy youngsters endeavour to make the mother of all home movies, egging the ghost on to visit them and keeping their camcorder recording even while they sleep. Sooner or later ol’ cranky pants decides to freak them out good and proper.
The script, penned by Oren Peli (who also directed) conveniently sidesteps the obvious hole in the premise – that the characters could simply leave and go somewhere else – by having an occult expert announce, petrified by the house’s ghastly vibes, that their ain’t no point moving because the spirit will follow Katie wherever she goes.
Peli takes the audience back to ghost story basics: doors slam, floorboards creak, the stairs go pitter patter, inexplicable groans and gusts of wind enter in the dead of the night. For a long time nothing much happens – in fact, nothing much happens throughout, especially in lieu of today’s high octane standards – but the one thing Paranormal Activity gets absolutely right is an eerie atmosphere. It is indefinably tense and disquieting, though in strictly aesthetic terms there is virtually no meat on the bone: no frills and precious few SFX. In some ways that makes the achievement more impressive. In other ways it accentuates the film’s status as a collection of not-much-happens moments which achieve a high degree of realism because of their refusal to embrace cinematic conventions – i.e. carefully written dialogue, well framed compositions etcetera.
The fear comes from what’s not on the screen, the sensation that the real terror is lingering just off frame. Peli hones in on the character’s reactions, which is what really causes the trepidation. Thus the strength of the performances is paramount because without them everything else falls down. Featherston and Sloat do a great job feigning sheer terror and to them the film owes much of its success At the end of the day, however, the dialogue is irritatingly prosaic, the characterisations are thin, the visual structure practically nonexistent, the pace is slow, the plotline clunky. Atmosphere is everything but it can only account for so much. The Blair Witch Project’s ballsy sense of innovation was enthralling, and more than enough to carry it across the line. Paranormal Activity lacks that spark of skinflint genius.
Still, it’s creepy.

Orange lightJust when it seemed certain that the surprise success encountered by The Blair Witch Project was a fluke and a once-off – it’s been ten years, after all, since that creepy shoestring spook fest emerged from nowhere to become an international box office behemoth – another American film financed on a similarly miniscule budget has been greeted with similarly phenomenal success.

Paranormal Activity is a bogus home movie about a young couple who try to capture on film a malevolent ghost who haunts them at night. It’s a no frills camcorder-shot thriller that cost around US$11,000 to make, a figure not too far off the cost of sandwich catering for your average Hollywood studio flick. So far it’s pocketed more than US$100 million, with much more business to come.

Like Blair Witch, the film is contrived to appear as if it were shot by the participants themselves, their footage later “discovered” and released worldwide in feature film format – for posterity and public awareness, of course, not anything to do with collecting dosh at the box office. But the most interesting similarity to Blair Witch is the manner with which Paranormal Activity was promoted and distributed, particularly the use of innovative online strategies that have proved remarkably effective in demonstrating the virtues of that timeless marketing adage: sell the sizzle and not the sausage.

Katie (Katie Featherston) is convinced that an evil spirit is following her and Micah (Micah Sloat) is the obligatory nonbeliever who laughs in the face of all this oogie boogie nonsense, the audience silently assured that he will later suffer for his nay saying. The foolhardy youngsters endeavour to make the mother of all home movies, egging the ghost on to visit them and keeping their camcorder recording while they sleep. Sooner or later ol’ cranky pants decides to freak them out good and proper. Read More »

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The Brothers Bloom film review: lacking (con) artistry

November 17, 2009 – 12:33 pm, by Luke Buckmaster

The Brothers Bloom posterRed lightWriter/director Rian Johnson’ s 2005 debut feature, Brick, was a bold exercise in genre-merging that combined  familiar concepts – the noir thriller and the high school coming of age drama – in unfamiliar ways.  It was enigmatic, compelling and heavily stylised, layered with little clues, ciphers, fake outs and pockets of intrigue. His follow up film, The Brothers Bloom, embodies few of the qualities exhibited with such aplomb in Brick: the denseness of the screenplay; the surreal atmospherics, urbane and otherworldly; the pinpoint assuredness of direction; the playful sense of toying with style and form.

The Brothers Bloom is a meandering and limply told con artist drama-comedy with a squidgy instead of a sting in its tail. It runs out of steam before it hits a brisk walk; the proverbial fat man at a fun run.

Stephen (Mark Ruffalo) and Bloom (Adrien Brody) sham people out of money by creating elaborate stories – Stephen as the writer and Bloom the star – then acting them out and collecting money from the unfortunate saps who take them seriously. Bloom quits the game but, three months later, is easily convinced to rejoin and the bullshit-spinning brothers target a rich lonely young woman, Penelope (Rachel Weisz), who is improbably lured to join them on an overseas jaunt which evolves into a phoney smuggling caper of which she is the unknowing star (and victim).

Scene by scene the story plays out with barely a modicum of plausibility and the plotline, drifting and episodic, lacks detail and colour – a skeleton outline like a join the dots with just the dots. Johnson gives the impression he’s making things up as he goes along and just as full of empty bluster as his eponymous brothers. Like Brick, The Brothers Bloom feels heavily contrived, but this time not in a good way. Savvy viewers tend to approach con artist movies suspiciously, understanding that fooling the audience is almost always part of the process. But to enjoy The Brothers Bloom and its aloof, almost melodic atmosphere, at times vaguely reminiscent of a Wes Anderson pic, one needs to be especially generous in lieu of the film’s casual pace and crater-sized plot holes, but even then it’s a tough sell. Adrian Brody’s performance is a stellar example of cinematic sleep walking; his listless eyes and ssllooowww demeanour seem to the dictate the film’s tone and pace.

The Brothers Bloom’s Australian theatrical release date: November 12, 2009

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Poster Watch: Invictus

November 16, 2009 – 7:46 pm, by Luke Buckmaster

Invictus posterStar-centric posters featuring large floating heads and a pithy tag line are the film industry’s garden variety marketing one sheets, but here is one cookie cutter image that really works. The poster (left, click to enlarge) is for Clint Eastwood’s new pic Invictus and depicts Matt Damon superimposed onto the back of Morgan Freeman; they play South African rugby captain Francois Pienaar and President Nelson Mandela respectively. The image is simple but effective, clean-cut and uncluttered, and features striking use of a white background.

Invictus’s U.S. release date (December 11) has been timed to coincide with the annual end of year awards ceremony frenzy, when a smattering of prestigious Oscar hopefuls inevitably cram into cinemas before the year ticks over. Considering it’s directed by Eastwood, ever an Academy favourite, the film will more or less arrive with the expectation of at least getting nominated for something. If it’s particularly impressive, as most Eastwood films have been in recent years  (i.e. Gran Torino, Flags of Our Fathers, Million Dollar Baby, Mystic River) this could mean good news for the stars, particularly Freeman, because it’s well known that the Academy likes recognising actors who play political leaders. And everything about Freeman seems to scream good taste; here is a man whose dignity remained intact even when hamming it up as God in the Bruce/Evan Almighty movies. That’s an achievement deserving of an award itself. Maybe not an Oscar, though.

Invictus will arrive on Australian screens January 21. Check out the trailer below.

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2012 film review: uproarious end is nigh entertainment

November 13, 2009 – 6:27 pm, by Luke Buckmaster

2012 posterGreen light“I always wanted to do a biblical flood movie, but I never felt I had the hook. I first read about the Earth’s Crust Displacement Theory in Graham Hancock’s “Fingerprints of the Gods”. When I discussed it with (co-writer) Harald (Kloser), I said we need a “plausible” reason, not a scientific one. Show this film to a scientist and they would probably laugh.” – Roland Emmerich talking about 2012.

It’s impossible to pinpoint exactly when it happened – or even if it was there from the beginning, lurking, beckoning, hungry for oxygen, whispering gently for attention in the dead of the night – but at some point in his career German-born director Roland Emmerich’s affection for obliterating famous international locations moved beyond desire, beyond lust, beyond a signature or a trademark to something approaching the fetishistic. No filmmaker has torn apart the modern world with such insatiable aplomb. He zapped the White House to smithereens in Independence Day, trampled Manhattan in Godzilla and tormented the globe with hailstones, floods and tornadoes in The Day After Tomorrow – trashing the Hollywood Sign, the Stature of Liberty, the Capital Records building and plenty of others.

Unsatisfied and clearly craving another round of die hard disaster porn, this time with a more international flavour, Emmerich returns to swing the CGI wrecking ball once again in 2012, his loudest and angriest movie yet, the big momma of disaster pics stuffed so full of money shots it’s probably easier to count the moments in which something isn’t destroyed. Targets include The White House (again), the Eiffel Tower, Rio de Janeiro’s Christ the Redeemer statue, the Sistine Chapel, the Vatican and more. Many more. Like, the whole world more.

Emmerich licks his chops, strums his fingers, strokes the proverbial cat and serves up a screen-buckling cranked-to-11 guilty pleasure sprinkled with rubbishy dramatic moments and drenched in narrative implausibility. No surprises there, but it also happens to be rip snortin’ hoot-n-holler stuff: fast-moving, audacious and bursting with visual detail. Watching 2012 is like sitting window-side on a plane and watching with wide stunned eyes the world go to hell in a SFX-stitched hand basket. Read More »

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Trailer Watch: Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time

November 12, 2009 – 9:39 am, by Luke Buckmaster

Prince of PersiaSince making a name for himself in 2001’s indie mind melt Donnie Darko and later as Heath Ledger’s lover in Brokeback Mountain (2005) Jake Gyllenhaal has remained somewhat aloof and left-of-centre from the inner circle of mega-earning A list Hollywood actors, largely avoiding the cha-ching! lure of junky action blockbusters. The big exception is The Day After Tomorrow, but as far as dumb end-is-nigh disaster movies go that one fared a helluva lot better than most.

It is unlikely that Gyllenhaal will fit into the same quasi alternative niche after the arrival of the stupendously dumb-looking Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time, a Bruckheimer-produced big screen version of the video game that was originally released in 1989 and has since spawned a number of sequels and revamps. The trailer (watch it below) makes it clear that, pending a miracle, it will represent the creative nadir of Gyllenhaal’s career just as Lara Croft: Tomb Raider (2001) represented the worst of Angela Jolie. Included in the package are cringe-worthy costumes; Gyllenhaal looks laughable as a dopey long-haired ragamuffin one part Shaggy from Scooby Doo and two parts The Scorpion King.

I remember back in the day playing the original Prince of Persia, a side scrolling platform game with sword fights and rickety tiles that collapse to send the player spiralling downwards onto body mutilating booby traps. I’m guessing that won’t happen to Jake. That’s a shame, especially considering the proliferation of bare chest shots of him strewn across the net, cuz those pecs look just beckoning to be punctured. The trailer culminates with a hellzapoppin action montage spangled with explosions, giant leaps, sword banging, furious glares, operatic music, crumbling buildings and dodging arrows.

Just to get you in the mood, here’s a snippet from the voice-over:

“Only the dagger can unlock the sands of time and there are those who would use this power to destroy the world. The only way to stop this Armageddon is for us to take the dagger to the secret guardian temple…”

In the mood yet?

Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time has been slated for a May 2010 Australian theatrical release.

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Paranormal Activity and the future of online movie marketing

November 11, 2009 – 6:29 pm, by Luke Buckmaster

Paranormal ActivityIn today’s Crikey newsletter I write about the upcoming nano budget indie flick Paranormal Activity and in particular about the extensive (and remarkably successful) online marketing techniques that have been used to promote it. If you’re not a Crikey subscriber (tsk tsk) you can sign up for a free three week trial here. Here’s a snippet from my story ‘Paranormal Activity in the Twitterverse leads to box office blitz’:

Before I had seen the film I had already engaged with it — and inadvertently helped to promote it — on two social networking websites. Two weeks ago one of my Twitter film colleagues ‘re-tweeted’ a link advertising free screenings across the country. I followed the link to Facebook, where I was essentially bribed to ‘become a fan’ of Paranormal Activity in order to collect my tickets. I followed the instructions, a willing accomplice to the film’s marketing strategies (the more people become a fan of something on Facebook, the more it is exposed to others).

If that wasn’t enough on the social networking front, at the free screening everybody in attendance was given a slip of cardboard encouraging them to “tweet your scream” to go in the running to win Paranormal Activity prize packs.

The fact that an invitation to a media screening for Paranormal Activity arrived in my inbox almost a full week after I had already confirmed (along with all the other freeloaders) to attend a preview screening via Facebook says something about the importance Paramount Pictures are placing on online marketing and pre-release word of mouth.

While Paramount’s viral-heavy marketing tactics have been remarkably effective in generating interest in Paranormal Activities, they point to an aggravating future for users of social networking sites, who will be increasingly forced to interact with proliferating amounts of non-traditional movie advertising.

Paranormal Activity will be released in Australia December 3. Expect a review in the next couple of weeks.

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A Christmas Carol film review: handsomely burnished bah humbugs

November 11, 2009 – 8:03 am, by Luke Buckmaster

A Christmas CarolGreen lightCharles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol is arguably the world’s most famous festive season morality fable, a story of spiritual redemption and rediscovered merriment for misanthrope miser Ebenezer “bah humbug!” Scrooge. Jim Carrey, aided by a thick sheen of CGI profiling, plays the über frugal pernicious protagonist with a splendidly uptight aura. It is his second role as an iconic Christmas party pooper, having pranced about with nefarious super-charged Seuss-channelled vim and vigour in How The Grinch Who Stole Christmas (2000).

My father has always been a parsimonious hoarder, the kind of niggard who happily reuses Christmas cards, stalks the postman in the hope of collecting discarded rubber bands and brews two cups of tea with the one bag. But even he looks like a spendthrift compared to ol’ Scrooge. “Tuppence is tuppence,” Ebenezer grumbles after pilfering coins from the eyes of a corpse. This is before three ghosts – Past, Present and Future – visit and scare the bejesus out of him by delivering a hallucinatory space/time skewing presentation showcasing the unrepentant a-hole he has become.

A Christmas Carol was originally published in 1843. If you’re not familiar with Dickens’s dense description-heavy writing you’ll certainly recognise some of the text’s cultural by-products: Disney’s character Uncle Scrooge, the Bill Murray comedy Scrooged, or, lowering the bar beneath waterline, Matthew Mcconaughey’s Ghosts of Girlfriend’s Past. Directed by prolific studio old hand Robert Zemeckis (Back to the Future, Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, Forrest Gump etc) this revamped 3D version resists drastically altering or re-contextualising the story and follows it to a surprisingly faithful degree, finding innovation not in narrative reinvention but in the slick performance capture visual style Zemeckis finessed in The Polar Express (2004) and Beowulf (2007) albeit to far less impressive ends.

Moody, chilly and unexpectedly dour, this newfangled A Christmas Carol is patiently unravelled with slow moving shots that soak up Zemeckis’s dark, glossily veneered surfaces like a sponge. The opening tracking shot over the rooftops of ye old London is particularly impressive. Read More »

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The Time Traveler’s Wife film review: rewind the clock

November 9, 2009 – 3:44 pm, by Luke Buckmaster

The Time Traveler's Wife posterRed lightIn The Time Traveler’s Wife Eric Bana plays Henry DeTamble, an unlikeable mope with an uncontrollable tendency to spontaneously melt into nothing and reappear, naked, in another timeframe. As you do.

Rachel McAdams plays his eponymous wife Clare, the ultra tolerant lovesick type who clearly sees in him something nobody else can. Well into this saccharine pseudo tissue box drama from director Robert Schwentke their relationship is seriously tested by Henry’s peculiar affliction, but the viewer’s patience is tested, tried and obliterated long before Clare tussles with the concept that marrying a time travelling ignoramus perhaps wasn’t such a great idea.

Adapted from author Audrey Niffenegger’s bestselling novel – which from the evidence here suggests was bound by a thick spine of hardened cheese – this mawkishly sentimental and hopelessly inept romance-drama, stuffed with bad performances, stilted dialogue and preposterous contrivances, is a sickeningly schmaltzy cinema experience with all the depth and emotional gravity of a deep-fried hallmark greeting card.

Eric Bana, whose career so far in Hollywood has with few exceptions amounted to one of the greatest let downs of any exported Australian actor, gives his most embarrassing performance yet, a display of unabashed cheesiness deserving of its own cholesterol warning. There is however one thing the floundering Melbourne lad gets exactly right: the vacuous glare of a man who isn’t quite there; the empty look of a person whose soul has been left behind in another time or place. There is a scene in The Time Traveler’s Wife during which Henry returns from the future with winning lottery numbers; he and wifey then pocket the cash, buy a fabulous new home and a chunk of their integrity vanishes forever. It doesn’t take a genius to spot the parallels between this moment and Bana’s real life decision to sign on the dotted line. Read More »

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Sony aquires rights to big screen version of Risk

November 9, 2009 – 9:38 am, by Luke Buckmaster

Risk: The Movie

While rumours of a Ridley Scott directed live action adaptation of Hasbro’s blockbuster board game Monopoly continue to sporadically surface on the internet (http://moviesblog.mtv.com/2009/03/02/exclusive-ridley-scotts-monopoly-movie-to-address-real-life-economic-problems/) ,thus  boggling the brains and testing the gullibility of readers the world over, news surfaced last week of a deal Hasbro has made with Sony Pictures for the rights to a big screen version of – wait for it – Risk. Those who haven’t vied for world domination using the Risk board, in the process turning best friends into mortal enemies (rest assured: you haven’t lived) may find this news very “meh” but for fans of the game (myself included) it is very much a WTF? affair.
Here’s what Doug Belgrad, president of Columbia Pictures, had to say:
“The strategic thinking and the tactical gambles that players must take in the game are what make Risk a classic, thoroughly engaging game. Those elements translated into an action-packed, thrilling story are what will make this a uniquely exciting movie.”
Bizarre. The premise of Risk is simple: it’s all about taking over the world by rolling the dice to ‘attack’ different countries and territories and, depending on success or defeat, moving small plastic figurines to occupy the spaces.  No back story exists so a narrative for the movie will have to be built from the ground up.
In July I blogged about tinsel town’s tendency to raid the closets of nostalgia in the context of the upcoming movie of Atari’s vintage video game Asteroids, which similarly has zilch in the way of storylines. What these titles share is simple: brand recognition. An industry currently commissioning movies such as – in addition to Monopoly, Risk and Asteroids – World of Warcraft,  Candyland, Battleship and Barbie that it’s all about marketing presence, and everything else be damned.
What’s next – Guess Who: The Movie? What about Hungry Hungry Hippos? Ordinarily I’d say “don’t hold your breath” but, well, this is Hollywood.

Rumours of a Ridley Scott directed live action adaptation of Hasbro’s classic board game Monopoly continue to sporadically surface on the net while reports of other big screen adaptations similarly based on outrageously un-cinematic source materials continue to boggle the mind.

News has recently surfaced – last week in fact – of a deal Hasbro has made with Sony Pictures for the rights to a big screen version of (wait for it) Risk. Those who haven’t vied for world domination using the Risk board and in the process savored the buzz one gets from turning their best friends into mortal enemies (especially if you’ve been drinking) may find this news very “meh” but for fans of the game it is very much a WTF? affair.

Here’s what Doug Belgrad, president of Columbia Pictures, had to say:

“The strategic thinking and the tactical gambles that players must take in the game are what make Risk a classic, thoroughly engaging game. Those elements translated into an action-packed, thrilling story are what will make this a uniquely exciting movie.”

Bizarre. The premise of Risk is simple: it’s all about taking over the world by rolling the dice to ‘attack’ different countries and territories and, depending on success or defeat, moving small plastic figurines to occupy the spaces.  No back story exists so a narrative for the movie will have to be built from the ground up.

It will be produced and developed by Hasbro’s Brian Goldner and Bennett Schneir and Overbrook Entertainment’s James Lassiter. Incidentally, the Risk board game was invented by a filmmaker - Frenchman Albert Lamorisse in 1957.

In July I blogged about tinsel town’s tendency to raid the closets of nostalgia in the context of Universal’s upcoming movie of Atari’s vintage video game Asteroids, which similarly has zilch in the way of storylines. What these titles share is simple: brand recognition. Other wacky projects currently commissioned by Hollywood studios in addition to Monopoly, Risk and Asteroids include World of Warcraft, Candyland, Battleship and Barbie. This current slew of noodle scratching adaptations makes it pretty clear that it’s all about marketing presence, and everything else be damned.

What’s next – Guess Who: The Movie? How about Hungry Hungry Hippos?

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This Is It film review: one for the fans

November 5, 2009 – 11:02 am, by Luke Buckmaster

This Is It

This Is It was the name of Michael Jackson’s highly anticipated concert tour that was scrapped less than three weeks before opening night, when death interrupted the pasty-faced star’s plans for a comeback. Director Kenny Ortega’s documentary of the same name plays a lot like a concert movie, but given there was never any actual concert it therefore fits into the less salubrious genre of the concert rehearsal movie, which doesn’t carry quite the same razzmatazz. There is something sad and kind of tragic about the moments in which Jackson, who deliberately sings most of the songs half-heartedly, talks about saving his vocal strings for the real deal. Little did he know that singing on a barren stage in front of a near empty auditorium was, well, it.
Produced with the collaboration of the Jackson estate, This Is It is a straight-up compilation of footage that aspires to little other than presenting the audience a taste of what might have been. It offers virtually no insight into Jackson as a person and very little about what he would have been like to work with professionally. The film is unashamedly idolatry; if Ortega’s cameras ever captured Jackson chucking a hissy fit or something similarly unflattering it is safe to assume it would never have been allowed to make the final cut, and that’s a sad state of affairs.
Fans will be glad to know however that This Is it makes it clear MJ still had talent all the way to the end. His voice in particular held itself remarkably well over the years even if his looks and fashion sense were, to be kind, somewhat spurious (note: bright red trousers, a light blue t-shirt and glittery silver jacket just don’t mix). He looks gaunt and unhealthy, like a washed up superstar, but then again the Stones have looked like death warmed up for about the last two decades, so that’s show biz for ya folks (not to mention excessive drug consumption sustained over multiple decades).
One of the triumphs of Jackson’s music is that his songs don’t seem to have aged at all. This is particularly impressive given their reliance on synthesised beats and keyboard and sound effects. And while his voice is more or less the same as it was in the 80s and 90s, there is something un-invigorating about a musician whose live performances aspire to match the CD versions note for note, syllable for syllable. MJ came up with winning formulas and sought to replicate them time and time again, establishing live performance innovations in other areas such as 3D movie segments, extravagant stage effects and swish-bang dance routines. As they say, it used to be about the music.
For die hard MJ aficionados This Is It is clearly a must-see. However, general appreciators are likely to get restless into the second hour in the absence of commentary, insight, context and other elements that might have helped sustain interest. Whatever appeal the film has – and it certainly has some, if you dig MJ’s music – it owes to Jackson and the tour crew rather than any innovation or creativity on behalf of the filmmakers.

Orange lightThis Is It was the name of Michael Jackson’s highly anticipated concert tour that was scrapped less than three weeks before opening night, when death interrupted the pasty-faced star’s plans for a comeback. Director Kenny Ortega’s documentary of the same name plays a lot like a concert movie, but given there was never any actual concert it therefore fits into the less salubrious genre of the concert rehearsal movie, which doesn’t carry quite the same razzmatazz. There is something sad and kind of tragic about the moments in which Jackson, who deliberately sings most of the songs half-heartedly, talks about saving his vocal strings for the real deal. Little did he know that singing on a barren stage in front of a near empty auditorium was, well, it.

Produced with the collaboration of the Jackson estate, This Is It is a straight-up compilation of footage that aspires to little more than presenting cinema audiences a taste of what might have been. It offers virtually no insight into Jackson as a person and very little about what he would have been like to work with professionally. The film is unashamedly idolatry; if Ortega’s cameras ever captured Jackson chucking a hissy fit or something similarly unflattering it is safe to assume it would never have been allowed to make the final cut, and that’s an unfortunate state of affairs.

Fans will be glad to know however that This Is it makes it clear MJ still had talent all the way to the end. His voice in particular held itself remarkably well over the years even if his looks and fashion sense were, to be kind, somewhat spurious (note: bright red trousers, a light blue t-shirt and glittery silver jacket just don’t mix). He looks gaunt and unhealthy, like a washed up superstar, but then again the Stones have looked like death warmed up for about the last two decades, so that’s show biz for ya folks (not to mention excessive drug consumption sustained over multiple decades). Read More »

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Trailer Watch: Law Abiding Citizen

November 4, 2009 – 7:08 pm, by Luke Buckmaster

Law Abiding Citizen poster

Earlier this year myself and some Twitter buddies played a game called #nicer filmtitles. As its title suggests, the game all about taking the name of popular films and making them, well, nicer. For example, The Empire Strikes Back becomes The Empire Writes A Strongly Worded Letter. The Day the Earth Stood Still becomes The Day the Earth Stood Relatively Still While Gently Swaying in the Breeze. The Exorcism of Emily Rose becomes The Daily Exercising of Emily Rose.
But there are some film titles that already sound so inoffensive, so pedestrian that making them nicer feels stupidly redundant. The first example that pops into my mind is (bizarrely) To Wong Foo Thanks For Everything, Julie Newmar. Sure, you could add Thanks So Much For Everything, but that’s hardly the point…
Jamie Fox and Gerard Butler’s new movie Law Abiding Citizen has one of those listless, undramatic, uneventful slice-of-nothing titles. It’s way too bloomin’ nice. How does one make it nicer – a Very Law Abiding Citizen? Running with this title is a decision that boggles the mind: what were the producers thinking? There is something pathetically mundane about the way the following imaginary conversation rolls off the tongue:
“Hey mate, whatcha up to tonight?”
“Goin’ to see Law Abiding Citizen.”
“Oh yeah, isn’t that the movie about the, um, citizen? The law abiding one?”
Ahem. More bizarre still is the fact that Law Abiding Citizen is an action/thriller, not some character study about a docile old fart who spies on his neighbours, keeping track of whether they’re violating arcane council regulations. By the looks of things – watch the trailer below – there are meaty murder-by-glare grimaces, explosions and death scenes a-plenty.
The trailer begins with flashes of a home break-in: Clyde (Gerard Butler) is bound and gagged and, we learn shortly after, watches helplessly as his wife and daughter are brutally murdered. Jamie Fox plays Assistant DA Nick Rice, who is assigned the case and ordered to make a deal that will sentence one of the killers to the death penalty and the other to ten years in the slammer. Outraged, Clyde shrieks “no deal!” Andrew O’Keefe style but Nick goes ahead with it anyway – “some justice is better than no justice at all,” he says. Bad move. Clyde turns out to be a brilliant sociopath who waits ten years, takes the law into his own hands and then for some inexplicable reason evidently trains his sights on Nick and his family.
Nick is the only man that can stand in the way of Clyde’s nefarious crusade for justice but this time it’s personal a yada yada and so on and so forth etcetera etcetera.
There is one deliriously audacious dialogue exchange in which Butler, in jail and looking like he needs a nap and a hug, demands that Nick organise his release.
“Or what?” Nick enquiries.
“Or I kill…everyone!”
Everyone? Like the whole world everyone? That’s a fairly ambitious target, fer sure fer sure, but brilliant movie sociopaths do have a tendency to reach for the stars. Good on him, I say. Since Clyde’s the one with all the ambition, perhaps the movie could have been named after him. Law Breaking Citizen, perhaps?
Law Abiding Citizen will be released Australian January _.

Earlier this year myself and some buddies on Twitter played a game called #nicerfilmtitles. As its title suggests, the game all about taking the name of popular films and making them, well, nicer. For example, The Empire Strikes Back becomes The Empire Writes A Strongly Worded Letter. The Day the Earth Stood Still becomes The Day the Earth Stood Relatively Still While Gently Swaying in the Breeze. The Exorcism of Emily Rose becomes The Daily Exercising of Emily Rose.

But there are some film titles that already sound so inoffensive, so pedestrian that making them substantially nicer is no easy task because the producers appear to have preempted the process. The first example that pops into my mind is (bizarrely) To Wong Foo Thanks For Everything, Julie Newmar. Sure, you could add Thanks So Much For Everything, but that’s hardly the point…

The title of Jamie Fox and Gerard Butler’s new movie Law Abiding Citizen is an undramatic and uneventful slice of nothing that is simply way too bloomin’ nice. How can one make it nicer – a Very Law Abiding Citizen? Running with this title is a decision that boggles the mind. What were the producers thinking? There is something pathetically mundane about the way the following imaginary conversation rolls off the tongue:

“Hey mate, whatcha up to tonight?”
“Goin’ to see Law Abiding Citizen.”
“Oh yeah, isn’t that the movie about the, um, citizen? The law abiding one?”

Ahem. More bizarre still is the fact that Law Abiding Citizen is an action/thriller, not some character study about a docile old fart who spies on his neighbours, keeping track of whether they’re violating arcane council regulations. By the looks of things – watch the trailer below – there are meaty murder-by-glare grimaces, explosions and death scenes a-plenty. These things are least deserve a more arresting title. Read More »

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2009 AFI nominees

October 30, 2009 – 7:28 am, by Luke Buckmaster

On Wednesday the nominees for the 2009 Samsung Mobile AFI Awards were announced. Capping off a bumper year for Australian cinema, it is an impressive list. Here they are. More commentary to follow. Visit here to view all the nominees.

2009 SAMSUNG MOBILE AFI AWARDS

NOMINEES – THE HIGHLIGHTS

AFI YOUNG ACTOR AWARD

* Brandon Walters, Australia
* Sebastian Gregory, Beautiful
* Tom Russell, Last Ride
* Toby Wallace, Lucky Country
* Marissa Gibson, Samson & Delilah
* Rowan McNamara, Samson & Delilah

AFI MEMBERS’ CHOICE AWARD
* Australia, Baz Luhrmann, G. Mac Brown, Catherine Knapman
* Balibo, John Maynard, Rebecca Williamson
* Beautiful Kate, Leah Churchill-Brown, Bryan Brown
* Mao’s Last Dancer, Jane Scott
* Mary and Max, Melanie Coombs
* Samson & Delilah, Kath Shelper

SAMSUNG MOBILE AFI AWARD FOR BEST FILM
* Balibo, John Maynard, Rebecca Williamson
* Beautiful Kate, Leah Churchill-Brown, Bryan Brown
* Blessed, Al Clark
* Mao’s Last Dancer, Jane Scott
* Mary and Max, Melanie Coombs
* Samson & Delilah, Kath Shelper

AFI AWARD FOR BEST DIRECTION
* Balibo, Robert Connolly
* Beautiful Kate, Rachel Ward
* Mao’s Last Dancer, Bruce Beresford
* Samson & Delilah, Warwick Thornton

AFI AWARD FOR BEST LEAD ACTOR
* Anthony LaPaglia, Balibo
* Ben Mendelsohn, Beautiful Kate
* Hugo Weaving, Last Ride
* Rowan McNamara, Samson & Delilah

AFI AWARD FOR BEST LEAD ACTRESS
* Sophie Lowe, Beautiful Kate
* Frances O’Connor, Blessed
* Sacha Horler, My Year Without Sex
* Marissa Gibson, Samson & Delilah

AFI AWARD FOR BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR
* Brandon Walters, Australia
* Damon Gameau, Balibo
* Oscar Isaac, Balibo
* Bryan Brown, Beautiful Kate

AFI AWARD FOR BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS
* Bea Viegas, Balibo
* Maeve Dermody, Beautiful Kate
* Rachel Griffiths, Beautiful Kate
* Mitjili Gibson, Samson & Delilah

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Capitalism: A Love Story film review: Moore American antiestablishmentarism

October 29, 2009 – 10:51 am, by Luke Buckmaster

Capitalism: A Love Story

If you’re looking for even handed and maturely nuanced debate, if you’re looking for objectivity, multifaceted perspectives and intelligent arguments unencumbered by sentiments and emotions, then stay the hell away from the films of veteran rabble-rouser Michael Moore, whose penchant for fire and brimstone documentary journalism burns ever-undulled in Capitalism: A Love Story. But if you’re looking for provocative and compelling non-fiction oozing with take-the-power-back polemic and fiery antiestablishmentarism look no further than the flabby cap-donning, windbreaker-wearing working man’s hero from Flint, Michigan, who has built a career on taking the Daryl Kerrigan mantra to big corporations and telling them “ta get stuffed!”
In all of Moore’s work the message is there, simmering between the lines: capitalism is bad. Having directed films for two decades years and with eight feature documentaries under his (considerably girthed) belt, Moore appears to have had enough. Now he’s just coming out and saying it, no pussyfooting around, no reading between the lines, no diluting the message: capitalism = evil.
Moore has always been a sermon-on-the-mount expostulator, subtle as a pig at a tea party. He’s a long time exponent of the essential principle underlining gonzo journalism: that the writer is the central part of the story, the eye of the hurricane, and from his or her uncloaked perspective everything else follows. Critics of Moore’s work are happy to point out that he at times draws tenuous links between case studies, often errs closer to emotion than fact and craftily chooses what to showcase and what to omit. He takes it to conservative forces, fighting fire with fire, sometimes getting flakes of his integrity caught in the crosshairs.
It’s hard however not to agree with most of his hypothesises, especially for those who lean to the left – i.e. that the U.S. health care system is horrible and ravaged (Sicko), American gun laws are dangerous and inhumane (Bowling for Columbine) and the Bush administration were a pack of mongrels and thieves (Fahrenheit 9/11). Capitalism: A Love Story presents Moore’s broadest assertion yet: that capitalism is, if not downright evil, certainly bad and immoral and punishing to the small guys; in other words about as appealing as a fart in a sleeping bag. Again it’s kinda hard to disagree with the basic stance even if most viewers, not unreasonably, will probably rationalise the debate in the context of capitalism being a lesser evil to whatever other alternative is out there – the devil you know argument, every system has its flaws, etcetera etcetera. Moore paints an important distinction between democracy and capitalism, arguing that one can and should exist without the other, which, like a lot of the material here, begs to be further extrapolated.
Watching Moore’s sprawling scattershot approach, it feels like he set out to make a film about the GFC but decided somewhere along the line to train his sights on a much larger beast. Thus the film’s disjointed structure, which connects case studies – all of them interesting, a few of them fascinating – sometimes spuriously to the grander concept. Moore demonstrates his sizeable abilities as both a muckraker and an investigative journalist by uncovering some truly shocking anecdotes: big corporations such as Woolworths, for example, take out life insurance policies on their employees so they can cash in when one of them dies, the people referred to in paperwork as “dead peasants.” It’s also staggering to learn that commercial airline pilots in America get paid pittance (around $20k a year) and would earn more as managers of Taco Bell. There are plenty more eye-opening moments, including a snippet of President Ronald Regan getting ordered around by a corporate big wig and seldom-seen footage of President Roosevelt’s suggestion of a second bill of rights, in relation to housing and jobs etcetera. It never, of course, came to fruition. Bummer.
Moore is the closest cinema has come to producing a director of blockbuster documentaries; his films are loud, ballsy, instantly palatable and designed for the masses. But more than that, they’re event movies, pics looming large on the cultural horizon. Bowling for Columbine is still his best work; it ties the staple properties together so smoothly: a powerful emotional crux, alarming facts, compelling case studies, a clear-cut argument. Capitalism: A Love Story fits his oeuvre like a glove and Moore appreciators will not leave disappointed. The idea that Moore’s career is misguided in the sense that he preaches to the converted is plain untrue, as his audience is well and truly large enough to encapsulate plenty of sceptics and naysayers as well as a decent selection of babies and barn animals.

Green lightIf you’re looking for even handed and maturely nuanced debate, if you’re looking for objectivity, multifaceted perspectives and intelligent arguments unencumbered by sentiment and emotion, then steer clear of the films of veteran rabble-rouser Michael Moore, whose penchant for fire and brimstone documentary journalism burns ever-undulled in Capitalism: A Love Story. But if you’re looking for provocative and compelling non-fiction oozing with take-the-power-back polemic and fiery antiestablishmentarism look no further than the flabby cap-donning working man’s hero from Flint, Michigan, who has built a career on taking the Darryl Kerrigan mantra to big corporations and telling them (with slightly more robust vernacular) ta get stuffed.

In all of Moore’s work the message is there, simmering between the lines: capitalism is bad, mmkay? Having directed films for two decades and now with eight feature docos under his (wider than average) belt, Moore appears to have had enough. Now he’s just coming out and saying it, no pussyfooting around, no reading between the lines, no diluting the message and woe betide you if you don’t like it: capitalism = evil.

Moore has always been a self-righteous sermon on the mount expostulator, subtle as a pig at a tea party. His critics tsk-tsk about his tendency to draw tenuous links between case studies, to err closer to emotion than fact and to cagily select what to spotlight and what to omit. He takes it to conservative forces, fighting fire with fire, sometimes getting flakes of his own integrity caught in the crosshairs.

It’s hard however, especially for those who lean to the left, not to agree with the long and short of his hypothesises – i.e. that the U.S. health care system is horrible and ravaged (Sicko), American gun laws are dangerous and inhumane (Bowling for Columbine) and the Bush administration were a pack of mongrels and thieves (Fahrenheit 9/11). Capitalism: A Love Story presents Moore’s broadest assertion yet: that capitalism is if not downright evil then certainly corrosive, immoral, punishing to the small guys and about as appealing as a fart in a sleeping bag. Read More »

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Mad Max 4 confirmed

October 28, 2009 – 8:03 am, by Luke Buckmaster
Last week The Daily Telegraph broke the news that George Miller’s classic Mad Max franchise will spawn a belated sequel, Mad Max: Fury Road. In a major coup for the NSW film industry – following the sobering recent announcement that Green Hornet will not (as originally planned) be shot in Sydney – Premier Nathan Rees has secured production of the fourth Mad Max outing. Miller and Rees, presumably both as happy as pigs in plop, indulged in a round of back patting:
Rees: “The Mad Max films are iconic. In the hands of director George Miller, we will see one of the largest and most ambitious live action films ever made in Australia.”
Miller: “The production agreements have been a long time in the making and Premier Rees and his team have worked like Trojans to ensure this substantial investment comes into this country.”
Sam Worthington and Charlize Theron have been tipped to snag lead parts but the big question is whether Mel Gibson will return to the role that shot him to stardom three decades ago. Miller is tight-lipped and probably unsure himself. He said to journalists last week: “I’m still in the middle of casting, despite all the stuff we see on the net and so on. I don’t even know who the final cast will be.”
Creating new instalments to old film franchises is always risky business. The Star Wars prequels were widely mocked, as was Harrison Ford’s “not as easy as it used to be” Indy shtick in Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Terminator 3 was a stinker and Terminator: Salvation not much better. However, recent years have heralded some success stories:  ol’ Sly Stallone kept the reputation of not one but two action franchises intact with the respectable Rocky Balboa and John Rambo, while Bruce Willis managed to reaffirm the status of his noggin as the golden egg of action cinema in the enjoyable Die Hard 4.0.
The most recent Mad Max movie – Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome – was made 20 (??) years ago, in 1989 (?) Here’s hoping George Miller’s still got it.

George MillerLast week The Daily Telegraph broke the news that George Miller’s classic Mad Max franchise will spawn a belated sequel, Mad Max: Fury Road. In a major coup for the NSW film industry – following the sobering recent announcement that Green Hornet will not (as originally planned) be shot in Sydney – Premier Nathan Rees has secured production of the fourth Mad Max outing. Miller and Rees, presumably both as happy as pigs in plop, indulged in a round of back patting:

Rees: “The Mad Max films are iconic. In the hands of director George Miller, we will see one of the largest and most ambitious live action films ever made in Australia.”

Miller: “The production agreements have been a long time in the making and Premier Rees and his team have worked like Trojans to ensure this substantial investment comes into this country.”

Sam Worthington and Charlize Theron have been tipped to snag lead parts but the big question is whether Mel Gibson will return to the role that shot him to stardom three decades ago. Miller is tight-lipped and probably unsure himself. He said to journalists last week: “I’m still in the middle of casting, despite all the stuff we see on the net and so on. I don’t even know who the final cast will be.”

Creating new instalments to old film franchises is always risky business. The Star Wars prequels were widely mocked, as was Harrison Ford’s “not as easy as it used to be” Indy shtick in Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Terminator 3 was a stinker and Terminator: Salvation not much better. However, recent years have heralded some success stories:  ol’ Sly Stallone kept the reputation of not one but two action franchises intact with the respectable Rocky Balboa and John Rambo, while Bruce Willis managed to reaffirm the status of his noggin as the golden egg of action cinema in the enjoyable Die Hard 4.0.

The most recent Mad Max movie – Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome – was made in 1985. Here’s hoping George Miller’s still got it. Mad Max: Fury Road will begin production next year.

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