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Big Momma’s House 2 (2006)
Men in drag is one of the truest tenets of comedy. Billy Wilder proved it, Dustin Hoffman proved it, even Robin Williams proved it. Eddie Murphy found career resurgence when he put on a fat suit for 1996’s The Nutty Professor. I think Martin Lawrence thought, why not combine them both? Thus was the unholy birth of 2000’s Big Momma’s House, where Lawrence goes undercover for the FBI as a morbidly obese older woman. If that doesn’t spell comedy then what will. Forgotten amidst the fat jokes and flatulence is the fact that Oscar-nominated Paul Giamatti was Lawrence’s beleaguered co-star.
Now, I myself had never seen the first trip to Big Momma’s House but in order to give a rounder opinion of the year 2006 in film, I felt it was my duty to see its sequel. For fun I felt a traditional review would do a disservice to the fine craftsmanship and invigorating cinema I was about to witness, so I decided to create a rundown of my viewing thoughts by the minute. Here, ladies and gents, is Big Momma’s House 2. Beware plot spoilers below.
03: Martin Lawrence is dressed as an eagle and teaching kids about safety during a school assembly. Somehow his adolescent stepson is embarrassed by this.
04: Apparently Mrs. Big Momma (Gabriel Union) has a bun in the oven. Or an egg in the nest. She has the most unrealistic looking pregnancy ever. It’s almost like a cone.
10: Lawrence climbs back into the fat suit to go undercover as a nanny to stop computer hackers from dismantling the secrets of national security and selling them to terrorists. That’s right, it’s Big Momma vs. terrorism.
11: Also, apparently the rich do not do background checks on those in charge of watching their children. Has Dateline taught us nothing?
18: Here are the kids: dumb kid, cheerleader wannabe, and Hot Topic rocker chick (the daughter in 40 Year-Old Virgin that wanted to have sex).
22: Wife discovers Lawrence’s secret supply of XXXXXXXXL panties. Does she not know of Big Momma?
26: Nope. No she doesn’t, as she mentions her concern to a gal pal. “A woman this big wearing a thong? That can’t be comfortable.” Cue cut to Big Momma lamenting her thong. Why is Lawrence even wearing a thong? What are the benefits of dressing as a large woman and also wearing a thong?
32: Even the FBI, who put Big Momma into the field years ago, doesn’t even know Big Momma is not real. No wonder we have intelligence failures. Send Big Momma to fix Iraq. That’s a sequel I’d be interested in.
34: What school plays “Baby Got Back” for a gym dance class? Big Momma shows the uncoordinated cheerleader wannabe how to dance. The gym leaders ask for Big Momma to lead them to glory. Maybe he/she can also sink the winning last-second shot for the high school basketball championship too.
40: 19-year-old Chad is lurking in the bushes for the 15-year-old Hot Topic girl. Nothing spells romantic like “lurking” and “interested in dating a 15-year-old.” Again, did Dateline teach us nothing?
45: Lawrence has to spy on the baddies and attempt to outrun his pregnant wife. Who do you think will win in a footrace?
46: The FBI finally realizes Big Momma is neither. The FBI earns a lollipop.
48: Lawrence decides to actually do housework for his nanny job but he decides to do it outside of his Big Momma costume, you know, in case the family walks in and wonders what a strange man is doing cleaning dishes and cooking dinner.
49: Big Momma pours the doggie a bowl full of tequila to lift its spirits. Dog depression is no laughing matter.
52: Big Momma teaches young girls how to dance like video stars.
56: Big Momma is at a spa with naked women and massages. Her advice to women for long-lasting marriage: put out often. That’s Big Momma for you, teaching our youth to dance salaciously, liquoring up animals, and turning back on the clock on feminism.
60: Big Momma runs on the beach in a 10 parody that no one seeing the movie will ever get. I guess it’s supposed to be funny because she’s fat? I think that’s the punchline for most of the movie.
63: Again, the limitations of an agent undercover in a fat suit (and thong) are revealed when Big Momma tries to chase down a suspect.
73: The dumb kid’s first words are, “Big Momma.” Then, “stakeout” and “investigate” and “hackneyed plot.” I made that last one up but it would have been something.
79: Big Momma enters a club to rescue Hot Topic girl at her plea. Oh, but Chad did not send a message it’s… THE BAD GUYS! And they’re taking her and Big Momma hostage.
80: My first laugh. Hot Topic girl and Big Momma tied in the back of a speeding van and rolling on top of each other with the sharp turns. Big Momma crushes the girl. Hot Topic Girl: “This is not how I imagined my death.” I’ll say.
83: Big Momma on a jet ski battles terrorists. Doesn’t being a large woman also make you a bigger target for bullets? Regardless, she kicks ass and we’re treated to a half-hearted payoff for thong wearing.
86: Big Momma gets shot just as the FBI arrives to shoot the bad guy. Excellent timing. Big Momma saves the day and is unmasked.
89: Have no fear, Big Momma stands in for the girls’ cheerleading dance. They apparently have a matching uniform in Big Momma size. There’s nothing Big Momma can’t do except star in a decent movie.
93: Lawrence brings home his new baby. He also threatens, in voice over, “You never know when Big Momma might be back.” Great, now I have to check under my bed every night.
I’m somewhat surprised that the movie isn’t as bad as I had feared. It’s mostly bland, with cookie-cutter characters, contrived situations, mishandled life lessons, and a dearth of comedy. Martin Lawrence must have been in bad shape to bring the fat suit out of the closet for one more go-round. The film is a dumb comedy that relies heavily on slapstick and Lawrence’s patter but neither ever feels inspired. This is a big bland mess, but it’s somewhat depressing in how cut-and-paste it all is and still designed to boost Lawrence’s career. If it wasn’t obvious before, it should be now — it’s time for Big Momma to pack her bags for good.
Nate?s Grade: D+
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Date Movie (2006)
This film was just another nail in the coffin of spoof comedy. Date Movie was supposed to be a spoof on romantic comedies, but what it ended up becoming was a spoof on anything. The film confused referencing with parodying, and they are world’s apart. Just because, for a split-second, someone dressed like Ben Stiller throws a dodge ball does not mean it is a parody. This painfully unfunny comedy went from setup to setup, blindly trying to grasp for a joke and falling back on scatological humor. Most of the film references mean nothing and don’t even parlay into jokes, the joke itself is simply the reference, like the appearance of Napoleon Dynamite and King Kong. There was not a single point in this entire movie where I laughed out loud, a death sentence for a comedy. This movie makes Scary Movie and its geysers of semen look like Shakespeare.
Nate’s Grade: D+
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Night at the Museum (2006)
Night at the Museum works because of the possibilities of its fun premise whereupon all the dusty items at New York’s Museum of Natural History come magically to life when the sun sets. I think every wide-eyed kid at some point had the same dream. Whether the movie taps into that childlike wish or panders to it is up for speculation. No doubt, this is a special-effects heavy family film that doesn’t aim its sights very high. Some storylines misfire like Ben Stiller’s tour guide love interest, Teddy Roosevelt (a very game and well cast Robin Williams) and his unrequited love for Sacagawea, and, in fact, a lot of it comes across as amusing but not very funny. The emotive bits feel awfully clumsy. But Night at the Museum has just enough to stay lively and remain unexpected enough to delight. Stiller works his usual shtick but remains the best comedic meltdown actor we have. The biggest surprise was seeing 86-year-old Mickey Rooney serve up some beat downs. I could easily see this becoming a franchise and I’m sure the studio has the same thing on their mind. Night at the Museum is a fun diversion for the holidays and will surely increase museum attendance nationwide. There are worse things than a film inspiring renewed interest in history.
Nate’s Grade: B
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Grandma’s Boy (2006)
This Adam Sandler crony comedy came out within the first weeks of 2006. Many predicted it could very well remain one of the worst films of the year. Let me verify that belief. This is an incredibly lazy stoner sex comedy that can’t even get gratuitous nudity right. Its premise (video game tester moves in with three old women) never takes off, and much of the movie just feels like one giant drunken party. The story doesn’t even kick in until an hour in; you’re not Brokeback Mountain, Grandma’s Boy, you cannot afford to take your time and sit on your ass. This stuff just isn’t funny. You want to know how unfunny? A character thinks he’s in The Matrix. Hi-larious and oh so timely. The movie trots out a nerd’s dream girl (Linda Cardalini) for a ridiculous romantic subplot that will just continue to give people who play Xbox 20 hours a day false hope. Sandler needs to stop bankrolling his buddies’ tired pet projects (Do we really need more Rob Schneider movies?). This one is written by and stars Allen Covert and is directed by a guy whose only other credit to his name is, honestly, as an assistant to Covert on another movie. You can see how interested in quality Sandler and Covert are. This is rather insultingly unfunny for a raunchy sex comedy. It even plays it all too safe. There’s strong potential for a grand gross-out comedy involving horny old women, but this isn’t it. You mostly just feel sorry for the actors. This is a movie that doesn’t work on any level, except to keep Sandler’s buddies busy so they won’t crash on his couch.
Nate’s Grade: D
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Stranger than Fiction (2006)
Ever think your life would make for a good story? Be careful what you wish for. Harold Crick (Will Ferrell) is hearing voices. They aren’t telling him to kill or do anything subversive. In fact it’s just one voice, an English woman, and she isn’t instructing Crick to do anything. No, she’s more so just… narrating. She comes in and out and expresses the doldrums of Crick?s life. He’s an IRS agent whose life revolves around order, repetition, and numbers. We can even see his inner tabulations thanks to some snazzy onscreen visual effects. Crick is sent to audit Anna (Maggie Gyllenhaal), a baker with a disdain for civil servants and authority. Crick is stricken by this shrewd beauty and finds himself wanting her, something the Narrator affirms for him. Crick’s life takes a dour turn when the Narrator lets on that Harold Crick had set in motion his “imminent death.” Crick is confused and seeks advice from Professor Hilbert (Dustin Hoffman) an expert on literature. Then they figure out the Narrator is Kay Eiffel (Emma Thompson), a famous writer who has the unfortunate habit of bumping off every one of her main characters.
Make no mistake, Stranger than Fiction is funny, but it’s a different kind of funny than most people are accustomed to with Ferrell. In my theater, I kept an eye on a gaggle of teenagers sitting several rows in front of me. I just wanted to observe their body language and what I saw was a lot of fidgeting, getting up for trips to bathrooms and popcorn, and lots of whispery talk. I can only imagine the disappointment of those teenagers expecting Ferrell to rip his clothes off and run around like a buffoon. They were likely busily thumbing away at their ever-present cell phones, text messaging their friends. People that are looking for a wild, sidesplitting, slapstick comedy are going to shaking their head. Stranger than Fiction is funny, but it’s in a very dry, witty way, much like British humor; it’s a humor you can admire for being clever but might not make you roll in any aisle.
The biggest fans of Stranger than Fiction will be bookworms. This is a very literate movie that works better for those with an appreciation or outright love of literature and storytelling. Professor Hilbert doesn’t initially believe Crick until he learns that Crick’s narrator said, “Little did he know.” That, ladies and gents, is all a professor of literature needs. He has to rule out what kind of story Crick may be apart of, so he subjects Crick to a series of hilarious questions along the lines of treasure-inheriting, nemesis-making, and magical-creature befriending. Crick keeps a notebook to tally examples in his life that may point to whether he is part of a Comedy or a Tragedy. Professor Hilton even explains the difference: in grand Shakespearean tradition, a comedy ends with people getting hitched and a tragedy ends with people getting snuffed. This is all fabulously witty and extremely fun, but I can think you’ll see why hard-core fans of Old School and Talladega Nights might be heading for the exits.
Writer Zach Helm has created a wonderfully whimsical tale that’s trippy but manages to still have warmth and a firm heart. It’s far more embraceable a movie than, say, Adaptation, and less smug. He has a smart sense of humor and loves deconstructing literature, like the Jasper Fforde (The Thursday Next books) of screenwriting. We are really sucked into the movie from the moment we can hear Thompson. The story has an innocence to it and this existential comedy feels out there but still grounded; it’s surprisingly poignant and full of dramatic revelations. Even better, Helm has done something that few have achieved: he wrote a story-within-a-story that works. Kay’s narrative voice is highly droll in her observations on Harold Crick’s life. It sounds like a genuine novel, and on top of that, a novel I would enjoy reading. Stranger than Fiction is all the proof I need that Helm is a talent to keep track of.
The performers all seem to have the same affection for the material. Ferrell is making that leap from funnyman into leading man, the same dramatic territory Robin Williams first tiptoed in Good Morning Vietnam and, likewise, Jim Carrey approached in The Truman Show. Ferrell won’t turn any heads but he underplays his performance maturely, playing a sad but sweet drone of a human being finally taking charge of his life under very insane circumstances. There’s a quiet moment toward the end where Ferrell is told he must accept his fate and he sits, shell-shocked, tearing up, his voice getting softer with every word. It’s only a moment but it piques my interest in what Ferrell may have in the tank. The comedy he can do in spades, including a desperate moment when he tries narrating his own life to coax his Narrator out of hiding.
Who will turn heads, however, is Gyllenhaal. I can already see a nation of teen boys falling in love with her tattooed, punky baker. To them I say, get in line pals, Gyllenhaal has made me dot my I’s with hearts ever since her star-making performance in 2002’s kinky romantic comedy, Secretary. She’s easy to fall in love with and expresses a fragile compassion to her role. The romance between Anna and Crick is unexpected but these two people need each other, and you feel that need as you watch their eyes light up as their relationship blossoms. Late moments between them add to the tenderness of the film and you will be on your knees pleading Crick is spared so he can return to loving Anna. I think Wreckless Eric’s “Whole Wide World” will become a potential staple on romantic teenage mix CDs sent to their sweethearts from now on.
Thompson and Hoffman have appealing supporting performances. Thompson has marvelous fun thinking of different grisly outcomes in store for Crick. Her interaction with the hospital staff to see the “not gonna make it people” is a howl. But Thompson is too good of an actress to play it straight. Once she discovers the life-altering implications of her writing she is crushed by guilt, obsessed over killing good people cruelly. Frankly, if I had anyone narrating my life, Thompson’s voice would definitely rank high. Hoffman plays a dedicated literary professor like a straight man, and everything seems on the level for him, even the fantastic. It’s a nice touch for a film that doesn’t require broad strokes.
The movie doesn’t have the depth of feeling or dark turnarounds that I know Charlie Kaufman would have done. Stranger than Fiction has a lot of fun with a very ripe premise, and is very intellectually stimulating, but you do feel like it could have gone further, exploring the reaches and implications of its metaphysical setup. What if someone who read Kay’s manuscript thought it was such a masterpiece, a shining light of literature that could move mountains, that they knew Crick must die, and that they must kill him to make certain of it. Or what about the relationship between author and character, and the role each has over the other and perhaps a battle over the future, a typewriter, and a happy ending at the end of a tunnel. However, while all of these options would further explore the novel premise, it would betray the movie’s whimsical tone. This isn’t a very dark movie. It has an authentic sweetness to it, and Crick is a gentle and kind man, and to do anything too heavy would work against the film’s tone. The movie explores existential queries and the topics can be grim, but ultimately Stranger than Fiction is life affirming.
Stranger than fiction also has a buoyant, unexpectedly pleasing romance to it. Again, it doesn’t show the depth of love and human feeling that Kaufman’s Eternal Sunshine could, but this is an unfair comparison. This romance is more a subplot that carries increasing weight thanks to heartwarming performances and the winsomely adorable Gyllenhaal. The romance in Eternal Sunshine was the story, and everything else was outside variable coming into contact. It might sound dismissive to call Stranger than Fiction as decaf Charlie Kaufman, but it really is a compliment. Kaufman is the most exciting, brilliant, creative, insightful, and whacked out screenwriter working today. I would give one of my kidneys to write even one story that could be described as decaf Kaufman. Stranger than Fiction may not examine as many themes, conflicts, or relationships as Kaufman might with the material, but this movie is a sweet fable that floats by like a fluffy cloud on a sunny day. It’s just so damn pleasant you sort of soak it in and fall in love, not wanting to leave.
Stranger than Fiction is strange, all right, but gloriously so. Scribe Zach Helm has concocted an existential fairy tale aimed for bookworms and outsiders. The premise is clever but the film doesn’t stop there, and Helm explores the implications of his premise with whimsy, charm, and a sweetness that is hard to rebuke. The wacky story seems reminiscent of Kaufman’s works, but it has a more heartwarming and embraceable appeal. Great performances from a game cast help to push the material even further into excellence. It has a small handful of flaws, perhaps a too limited scope, but that doesn’t stop Stranger than Fiction from being one of the best stories of 2006 and one of the best movies too.
Nate?s Grade: A-
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Running with Scissors (2006)
Ever since author James Frey imploded into a million little pieces, the memoir has come under intense scrutiny. At issue is the validity of the written word, whether these people are being honest as they recount their tortured yet inevitably redemptive lives. What is the difference between nonfiction and memoir, and does it implicitly imply personal bias? Running with Scissors is the 2002 best-selling book detailing the bizarre childhood of Augusten Burroughs. It’s a book with lots of out-there claims but they’re all held in check by Burroughs’ tart observation and witty writing. When translated to the silver screen, Running with Scissors loses credibility without the author’s voice. I doubt many people going in cold will even believe what they’re seeing.
In the 1970s, Augusten (Joseph Cross) is a gay teen growing up in the care of his alcoholic father (Alec Baldwin) and his deeply delusional, bipolar, wannabe poet mother (Annette Benning). When their marriage hits one of its many slags they seek out a therapist, Dr. Finch (Bryan Cox). He has a room he dubs his “masturbatorium,” a resemblance to Santa Claus, and a family just as whacked as he is. His oldest daughter, Hope (Gwyneth Paltrow), helps him in his practice and thinks that pets talk to her, even from beyond the grave. Natalie (Evan Rachel Wood) is the rebellious daughter who likes to play doctor via electric shock therapy. Agnes Finch (Jill Clayburgh) is the matriarch of this cracked family that also enjoys eating some dog kibble here and there. When Augusten’s mother signs over adoption papers he becomes the reluctant newest member of this dysfunctional family.
The trouble with translating a book is that you lose the author’s voice and commentary. Running with Scissors maintains the horrifying living conditions for Augusten and the stable of oddballs, but lost is the author’s snappy humor that carried him through this tumultuous time. It’s definitely weird but it’s far from engaging. Without the wit and dark humor from Augusten’s voice we’re left with a series of loosely bandaged scenes about crazy characters and crazy anecdotes, little of which contains further importance. This is a fan of the book talking here, and I’m afraid that the film adaptation has heightened some of the weaknesses of the book, namely the loose storyline. When pieced together as a film, Running with Scissors can become slightly tiresome and overly reliant on background details. The film treats its wild, kitschy production design and 70s nostalgia as a character on par with anyone. It makes for great production design, true to the spirit of the book, but also serves as a narrative distraction. Too much attention seems to be put on getting things to look right than getting the screenplay to feel right.
Without the author’s voice the results lose credibility. It’s funny to see a Christmas tree up year round, and it’s funny when Dr. Finch is convinced God is communicating to him through his bowel movements, but it all just comes off as another joke like the art direction and nothing more. When fully added together without any sense of pathos, it all seems like a joke. The subplot involving Augusten’s sexual relationship with a much older schizophrenic patient (Joseph Fiennes) seems mishandled without much insight. Running with Scissors presents all examples of dangerous, sometimes illegal, behavior and doesn’t bat an eye, nor does it pass judgment. While this may irk some and seem irresponsible it’s just another case of little mattering. Running with Scissors, as an adaptation, presents little of consequence.
Director Ryan Murphy also adapted the screenplay and knows a thing or two about dysfunction and trashiness, having created the risky TV show Nip/Tuck. His adaptation has a blunted feel, but it also seems too broad. Then again, maybe only fans of the book would notice. He has a good feel for his actors and can stage some nice shot selections, but man, someone needs to slap his hand away from the AM radio. Running with Scissors is crammed with so many popular 70s tunes that it becomes a crutch, with Murphy hitting the soundtrack button whenever he needs some kind of character catharsis. It doesn’t work and comes across as indulgent and simplistic. There are so many zippy classic pop songs you may think Elton John is owed a writing credit.
The acting is one of the elements that help give life to this adaptation. Benning has been generating Oscar buzz for her deeply self-involved portrayal of a mom held hostage by her illness. Benning digs deep and displays a comic range of absurd behavior and wild paranoia. She’s all over the place and you can’t help but loathe her, that is, if you ever take her seriously. But then, once overly medicated, she gives an entirely secondary performance as an emotionless zombie, and we feel a sliver of sympathy, a true surprise. It’s a good, meaty role, however, I actually think Clayburgh gives the more Oscar-worthy performance. In a lot of ways she’s resigned to her fate and yet manages to be the gauzy heart of the picture. She tells me more with her wrinkles than Benning does in her gesticulating outbursts.
The rest of the cast work admirably. Cross is our focal point of the story and does a fine job of, essentially, gawking and looking perplexed. He’s like a blank, gangly canvas, and I wonder what else Cross is capable of than a performance built around indignant reactions. Wood is developing into a lovely adult actress and has some of the best foul-mouthed lines. It’s just nice to see Paltrow in a movie again. Baldwin has transformed from leading man into incredibly versatile supporting actor that excels as comedic lunkheads. Cox remains one of my favorite character actors of all time. There’s nothing this man cannot do. The actors all do a good job of filling out their zany characters while leaving their own imprint.
The issue with Running with Scissors is that when you strip away the author’s caustic voice, then the movie strains credibility, even with the knowledge that it?s based on a personal memoir. The movie gets all the wackiness but misses out on some of the finer points and humor that helped save Augusten from his unorthodox housing. The story feels dulled and stretched too broad, and yet it still manages to be intermittently entertaining despite these flaws. The actors range from good to great and the art direction is fantastic, even if Murphy expects it to do more work than his screenplay. Running with Scissors isn’t as nervy, engaging, or provocative as its source material. Then again little else is. Consider the film Running with Safety Scissors.
Nate’s Grade: B-
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The Last Kiss (2006)
Zach Braff has exploded in such a short amount of time. He was underappreciated on the perennially underappreciated Scrubs, but then his breakthrough came in 2004 with Garden State, an aloof, charming love story about personal awakening. After just one movie Braff is now a name-above-the-title headliner. For his second film, The Last Kiss, Braff stars as another young man going through another personal crisis. He even selected the radio-friendly songs for the soundtrack just like he did with Garden State. This new movie is actually a remake of a 2001 Italian film, adapted by Oscar-winning screenwriter Paul Haggis (Crash). But there’s one big difference between Garden State and The Last Kiss? Garden State is actually good.
Michael (Braff) works as an architect in Wisconsin. He’s having a bit of a crisis with the state of his life close to his impending thirtieth birthday. His girlfriend, Jenna (Jacinda Barrett), is pregnant with his child and the two are planning for their future, but all around them relationships are falling apart. Chris (Casey Affleck) feels crushed by the demands of his newborn child and wife. Kenny (Eric Christian Olsen) is looking for guilt-free sex. Izzy (Michael Weston) is a wreck after having his heart broken by his ex. Jenna’s parents (Blythe Danner and Tom Wilkinson) may be splitting after 30 years of marriage, not all of them blissful.
With all this in mind, Michael worries that his life seems too scripted now and deficit in surprises. Then along comes Kim (The O.C.‘s Rachel Bilson), a young flirty college student that shows a strong interest in Michael. He must decide where his life is heading and whose hand he’ll be holding.
One of the reasons The Last Kiss is hard to get into is that the film never really elaborates why this foursome of guys have it so bad. Chris complains about a dead marriage but maybe his wife would nag him less if he spent more time trying to chip in around the house instead of avoiding his fatherly duties. Kenny is all gung-ho about a hot girl who’s interested in relationship-free sex, but then he runs the other way when, heaven forbid, the girl mentions the idea of commitment. Next thing you know, Kenny is not only running away from this girl but he’s joining Izzy on his cross-country road trip. He’s leaving the state because of the potential whiff of commitment. My friend, after we saw the movie, thought it was too stereotypical (woman: says one thing, wants other, man: scared of anything lasting). She suggested that Kenny slowly turns around his stance and wants to commit to this girl, who he obviously feels to be special. But that would mean The Last Kiss actually cares about the characters of Kenny and Izzy. These two serve more as a spare tire in a male relationship, and both their storylines are tied up with great time to spare.
Worst of all is Michael’s plight. He’s told by his buddies that he’s snagged the “perfect girl,” and from what we see she really is a lovely catch. Michael is freaking out because his life seems too tidy and empty of “surprises” now that a baby on the way. Boo hoo. So to jazz up his surprise-free life he has a fling with a college girl. Surprise! Isn’t your life better now, Michael? If it weren’t for the affable charm of Braff, who emits certain Dustin Hoffman Graduate vibes, the audience would feel no varying degree of sympathy for the dolt. Michael really bruises two innocent people just to needlessly reaffirm what he already knew. It’s hard to get behind all this. We don’t have to like characters, or their actions, but it hurts the drama when you’re simply watching one character hurt others for foolhardy reasons only evident to that character. In Unfaithful, we never really knew why Diane Lane had an affair but at least we saw complexity and strong repercussions.
There’s an element of maturity here and there with the screenplay, but twice as many moments of juvenile fantasies/fears (Look out, women will trap you and control you and expect equal work in return!). The movie has some adult material that works and hits its target but it also falls apart with idiotic musings. The best moments seem to come from the examination of the fading marriage between Jenna’s folks. It’s an interesting slice of life not commonly seen in youth-obsessed Hollywood, and Danner’s outbursts about what it takes to hold a 30-year union together ring true. But this moment falls victim, like many, to a tidy, simpleminded answer. Almost every storyline in The Last Kiss ends with a bow on it all wrapped up. Michael’s told not to give up and he essentially sleeps on his porch, wearing down the anger of his girlfriend through dogged persistence. In fact, the ending reminds me a bit of Secretary, another romance that ended with one lover proving their devotion by staying in one place a really long time. It’s almost insulting that the film presents Michael behaving badly and then excuses him as long as he just sticks it out. It’s not the idea that’s insulting; it’s the fact that The Last Kiss uses this ending as a cheap and easy out.
One of the benefits of movies directed by actors is that they tend to generate good performances. Director Tony Goldwyn (A Walk on the Moon) has assembled a nice cast that gives more than the material they get. The real find is Barrett, who may just be the greatest alum of a reality TV show (she was on the London edition of MTV’s The Real World). She showed promise in 2003’s The Human Stain and The Last Kiss is really her declarative ascent. She might start getting a lot of offers that would have normally gone to a Meg Ryan or a Julia Roberts. She shows a range of emotions and her breakdowns are hard to watch because of how well she sells her distress. She handles has a natural ease about her, which pairs nicely with Braff’s laid back, unorthodox charisma. Bilson is cute and crimples her doll face in a way that makes her character seem more naïve than seductress. Braff plays his role a bit subdued. He flashes enough life to not seem like he’s sleepwalking though the same steps he plowed in Garden State. Still, it’s not a very remarkable performance for someone people keep tabbing as a potential voice of a generation (a term nobody could feasibly live up to).
The Last Kiss is an unconvincing, simpleminded, disingenuous drama populated by whiny dolts afraid of the good things they have. It’s hard to sympathize with any of these flawed characters when we never really feel like their gripes hold water. Michael can’t believe his life seems planned out with a wonderful woman who’s having his baby. Solution: screw it up for variety. While it may be the spice of life, it’s also a heedless decision for someone who needs to wreck everything in order to realize what he has/had. This would all be easier to swallow if The Last Kiss didn’t tie everything up with a happy ending that lacked the groundwork. In the end, according to the film, all bad behavior can be wiped clean if you just wear down your significant other. The drama feels forced and the conclusions feel inappropriate. All human beings make mistakes and so do filmmakers.
Nate’s Grade: C
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Snakes on a Plane (2006)
Snakes on a Plane. It’s a title, it’s a catch phrase, it’s a way of life. For a tiny horror movie with a blunt title, this flick has caught the imagination of Internet geeks everywhere, myself included. I couldn’t believe the movie was real at first, but then I slowly got onto its weird wavelength and brought my friends along too. For the past year buzz and hype’s been building, fans have made their own songs, T-shirts, trailers, and potential sequel titles (the equation is [animal] + [location]). Due to such unexpected rabid fan support New Line Cinema spent 5 days shooting additional scenes of gore and nudity to bump Snakes from a PG-13 to an R-rating. It’s hard to squeeze in a lot of nudity into a movie predominantly set on a plane not owned by Hugh Heffner. But has Snakes on a Plane run the danger of peaking before the movie ever opened?
FBI Agent Flynn (Samuel L. Jackson) is transporting a witness to a murder. The big bad Hawaiian gangster doesn’t want the witness to testify against him. His solution is elegant in its ludicrousness: the gangster has stashed a hidden supply of various poison snakes in the plane’s cargo hold. A timed release sets the snakes free to slither around the flight and bite as many passengers as possible. Flynn reports to his base, “You know all those scenarios we counted for, well I’m smack dab in one we didn?t count on.” You see, no one suspects snakes on a plane.
The big question is whether Snakes on a Plane is just another bad B-movie that will line a video store shelf or a truly So Bad It’s Good Movie. In the accompanying months, this movie has caught on like wildfire by hipsters looking for grand, ridiculously stupid entertainment with a wink. Snakes on a Plane is indeed ridiculously stupid but it does so without the wink. The movie never steers for camp, which is sad. This is more like the silly trifles that routinely air on the Sci-Fi Channel (in anticipation, the network aired a whole night of cheesy direct-to-video reptile thrillers). There’s nothing wrong with those dumb escapist flicks, but then again there?s nothing essentially special or memorable about them.
The real funny thing is that if you haven?t seen Snakes on a Plane already, you’ve probably missed the best reason to go see it. This is the type of So Bad It’s Good movie that needs to be seen in a theater with a rowdy crowd, ready to hoot and holler at the mass stupidity on display on the big screen. This is an experience that demands to be shared with like-minded individuals in shared derision. I doubt it will translate as well on DVD. Something will be lost if you ever watch this movie by yourself (even more will be lost if you’re sober).
Without the rowdy viewing atmosphere, the movie itself sort of sucks. The acting is all over the place, the CGI is at times painfully fake like they had a rushed deadline, and the action gets a tad repetitious. You can only watch snakes bite people for so long before it all gets old. People get bit in the face, eye, tongue, neck, ass, breast, and, in one very unfortunate circumstance, the male member itself. Some of the gore effects are grossly fun. The opening pre-snake 20-minutes of the film feels like a lame episode of Hawaii 5-O complete with lame villain. I don’t know how in the world the bad guys found this witness so quickly when they didn’t see his face, license plate, or any identifying characteristics. Every time the movie cuts away from the plane to a handful of subplots on the mainland it loses its flow, and it takes a long while to get things back.
The sheer nakedness of the film’s conception is amazing. We’re all aware that movie studios can create their product in the most artistically void way possible. Snakes on a Plane was cobbled together by an exec?s idea of combining aviophobia (fear of flying) with another common public fear, ophidiophobia (fear of snakes). The absurdity of the entire premise is on full display while watching the movie. If you allow the images to sink in, especially panicked passengers swatting at the reptiles, you will be seized by uncontrollable laughter. Who really would ever have thought of snakes being on a plane? I love that the evil gangster confesses that “he exhausted every other option.” I would have loved to be in that meeting room just to see all the plans that didn’t cut it compared to “poisonous snakes drop into cabin.” If this movie ever catches fire it could spawn a whole new wave of horror films that are mash-ups of common fears. So keep your eyes peeled next summer for Snakes on a Public Speaking Venture (“Oh no, there are snakes everywhere, and I have to speak in public about it!”).
Snakes on a Plane, unbelievably, tries to play it too straight and serious. There are so many improbabilities and inaccuracies in the film. It has snakes springing like rockets and moving as if they had 1,000 legs, and yet the film won’t fully commit to camp. After a year of hype and a lightning rod of a title, it’s hard not to be disappointed that Snakes on a Plane isn’t something more than… well, snakes on a plane. But then again maybe the simplicity is the whole genius. Maybe there’s still another layer of satire I have yet to penetrate, but I think I’m grasping out of hope for something more that just isn’t there. The movie is entertainingly bad but it doesn’t ever reach the stratosphere of bad, a world inhabited by the likes of Manos, The Land of Faraway, Showgirls, Glitter, and Bulletproof Monk, to name but a few.
There’s plenty of clichés and stereotypes galore. A stewardess, Claire (Julianna Margulies), is on her last flight before retirement. Flynn’s police partner bites it. A novice needs to be talked through landing the plane. The elitist blowhard gets his. There is a flaming gay male flight attendant that’s supposed to be funny. There’s even a laugh-out-loud moment where Flynn hugs Claire and says, “I need you to be strong for me.” Is the movie making fun of these clichés or just relying on them for a story? Does a difference even matter?
I will say that I was waiting in great anticipation for THE line of the summer: “I’m tired of these…” Once it came I couldn’t help but recite it along with Jackson.
Snakes on a Plane is a victim of a year’s worth of hype. It’s ridiculous, stupid, terrible, but then we all knew that when we bought a ticket. What we hoped for is that this blunt horror flick would be a campy send-up of B-movie silliness. Snakes on a Plane is less a canny parody of stupid thrillers than another example of them. The movie’s most ludicrous decision is trying to play this mess as serious material. If the flick had been a little more open to self-analysis then it could have been a real fun ride. Snakes on a Plane is bad, but after the absurdity of its premise dies down it’s never really that entertaining. It’s more mediocre. If you’re late to the Snakes on a Plane phenomenon then you’ve already missed its glory days.
Nate’s Grade: C
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Talladega Nights (2006)
When it comes to clowning around, no one does stupid more smartly than Will Ferrell, a man perpetually in a state of arrested development. Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby succeeds both as a satire on uplifting, redemptive sports movies and on the culture of NASCAR. The product placement is obscene in this movie, but then again, the same can be said with NASCAR racing. PowerAde had a contractual obligation to be cited at every family meal prayer, which itself turns into a competitive sport. Title buffoon Ricky Bobby (Ferrell) is so arrogant that he gets an ad for Fig Newtons on his windshield (“This ad is dangerous… but I do love Fig Newtons.”). Even the title is a perfect send-up. The redneck riffs are never very mean-spirited, but I like that the Southern bar keeps disco on the jukebox to “profile.” The sports clichés are picked apart, like the absentee father (Gary Cole) reappearing to learn the error of his ways. There’s a heavy reliance on slapstick and pretty much everyone in the movie is either a cad, a buffoon, or a jackass, so there are limits to that comedy.
True to 2004’s Anchorman, this movie hits its high points with the spontaneous moments of tangential weirdness, from sports announcers explaining how to put out invisible fire to Ricky Bobby learning to drive with a live cougar as a co-pilot. Talladega Nights doesn’t quite hit the absurdist highs of the infinitely quote-able Anchorman, and the movie spins its wheels all too often, but it’s got a greater number of solid belly laughs than most any movie out there today. Sacha Baron Cohen plays Jean Gerard, the gay, French Formula-One driver that upsets the stock car world. Cohen has great fun in an English language mangled performance Peter Sellers would have loved. When Ferrell and Cohen are face to face, you feel like anything can happen between these two quick-witted comedy titans. Ferrell has assembled another game cast of gifted improvisational artists and their blend of loony comedy feels like jazz. The downside with such a huge cast of very funny people is that not everyone gets the face-time they deserve (Oscar nominee Amy Adams comes to mind).
Talladega Nights is a big broad comedy with a great cast and some inspired chuckles. What other movie this summer could climax so perfectly with a man-on-man smooch and the observation, “You taste like… America”? Only one, baby, and it’s Ricky Bobby.
Nate’s Grade: B
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Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest (2006)
America loves its pirates, plain and simple. We as a nation are infatuated with the characters and the high-seas adventure of 2003’s Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl. We?re starving for more, and when the first in a two-part sequel was released it only became one of the biggest movies of all time. Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest has shattered box-office records, rolling up $100 million in two days and a record $135 million weekend gross, easily surpassing former champ Spider-Man‘s supposedly invincible $118 weekend tally. America loves its pirates more than Spiderman, Star Wars, and who knows, maybe even Jesus. After all, Dead Man’s Chest did just kick out The Passion of the Christ from the top ten all-time grossers. Mel Gibson sure has a lot of grief at this moment.
Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp) is a wanted man on the high seas. The East India Company, whose emissary now controls the Caribbean town of Port Royal, is after Jack and his special compass. But Captain Jack has bigger fish to fry. Davey Jones (Bill Nighy), ruler of the seas, wants what was promised to him: Jack’s soul. Jack made a bargain with the sea creature and now his time is running out. He must assemble a crew and track down the whereabouts of a buried chest. Inside this chest is the still-beating heart of Davey Jones, and he who controls the heart controls Jones, and thus the seas. That is why the East India Company is so interested in Jack. They’ve made an arrangement with groomis interuptis Will Turner (Orlando Bloom), who had his wedding hijacked and his bride (Keira Knightley) locked away. If he can retrieve Jack’s compass, then he and Elizabeth will be pardoned for aiding and abetting a known pirate. Will and Elizabeth each set off to find Jack Sparrow and to gain their freedom.
The filmmakers have taken notes in the school of sequels from The Empire Strikes Back. Like the second Star Wars chapter, we’re left with the heroes separated and licking their wounds, evil appears to have the upper hand, and the lives of some beloved characters are left in doubt. Just as long as there’s no Ewoks, Disney has guaranteed my place in line on opening day 2007 for Pirates 3.
It?s hard to fully judge this Pirates sequel because it’s part one of a two-part story. I’m holding out my final say, especially if this movie just turns out to be an expensive 150-minute teaser trailer for Pirates of the Caribbean 3. I can?t fully judge many story and character arcs because we don?t know where movie #3 will carry them. Maybe it’ll end up being like the middling Matrix sequels, where subplots and characters were dropped as if the Wachowski brothers had screenwriting butterfingers (it’s a film critic’s unwritten duty to deride the Matrix sequels at any chance). At least this movie ends with a jolt that I did not see coming.
Most surprisingly, Dead Man’s Chest suffers little from the creative deadlock of sequels. Dead Man’s Chest is more a sci-fi monster fantasy than a swashbuckler. The supernatural edge has swallowed the series whole. Take for example Jack’s broken compass. What once was an oddity befitting its owner is now seen as another element of magic. Some of the interest seems lost if things are simply explained away as being magical. The story, unlike the Matrix sequels (See: above), expands and enriches its universe. Some leftovers from the first film made me cringe. I thought we were headed for a bad track, where the movie uses the audience’s memory as a cheap storytelling device. Familiar characters might pop up every which way, smiling, and saying, “Hey ho, remember me?” Miraculously, the leftovers are integrated so well with the new tale that they really do matter and don’t come across as cheap shortcuts. Norrington (Jack Davenport) and the two comic relief cursed pirates are all smartly woven back into the troupe, and each impacts the story in a non-obtrusive manner. Even the undead monkey is used well.
I made it a point to keep my expectations in check for Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest. It would be naive to think that you could catch lightning in a bottle again. Yes, now with audience expectation we lose the originality and unpredictability that made the first Pirates adventure so joyously delicious. And yet I found myself getting riled up just the same and being whisked away by spirited entertainment. My expectations may have been tempered for Dead Man’s Chest but I still greatly enjoyed the ride. It seems that my opinion sharply differs from my overly negative critical colleagues; my own sister said Pirates 2 was one of the worst movies she’s ever seen. That seems a bit rash. She hasn’t even seen any Uwe Boll movies.
There are moments that seem to stretch the credibility of the story. It’s been said before that it’s not the impossible that bugs you but the improbable, and this holds true for Dead Man’s Chest. I’m able to believe Davey Jones and his creepy crawly crew, but I’m not able to believe that Elizabeth Swan could single-handedly best them all at once in sword fighting. The movie becomes dangerously close to eye-rolls in parts, but generally steers clear of moments that rip you out of the story. Of course a Pirates film would be nothing without Johnny Depp. He’s the main reason the first film was so memorably embraceable and entertaining. It?s not every day someone gets nominated for a Best Actor Oscar playing an addled, swishy comic pirate. He’s truly the star and has been one of our finest actors long before he had any box-office clout. He’s created a character so beloved that he’s crossed over into the cultural lexicon. How many Jack Sparrow outfits do you see come Halloween? I had a friend directing a high school performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and every young actor wanted to audition as Captain Jack interpreting Shakespeare. Come to think of it, Jack Sparrow would certainly liven up some of the bard’s dusty works.
Depp is still hilarious and likeable even when he’s being a scoundrel. We simply love this character; I love this character. The unpredictable nature of Jack feels squeezed dry by the demands for familiarity with sequels, but Depp finds new ways to enthrall in Dead Man’s Chest. Some people are going to be uncomfortable with Jack being more dastardly, willing to trade others’ lives to save his own hide. I think desperation is an interesting place to put this character. Besides he has his big hero moments as well.
New dimensions are added to the other characters. Knightley gets to be shrewd and try her hand at pragmatic treachery. It eats her up inside at the end and Knightley, a nice comedic actress, allows us to see the rough seas of guilt within her. Bloom will always be Bloom, meaning he’ll be handsome, British, and seemingly too little for grownup movie stuff. Will is given a whole new set of daddy issues when he actually gets to spend time with dear departed dad (Stellan Skarsgard). Best of the rest (“the rest” being everyone other than Depp) is an unrecognizable Nighy, who saunters his deck with the fiery air of a preacher. Nighy manages to make Davey Jones even more interesting. Naomie Harris (28 Days Later) makes her presence felt as a witchy woman responsible for Jack’s compass.
The action sequences are gigantic and well constructed. They expand with organic complications and a lively, graceful sense of humor. An already fun sword fight atop a watermill wheel gets even more pleasing when the giant wheel breaks free and the fight continues. Three characters climb inside and out, all vying for a key that keeps changing hands thanks to gravity. A human-sized fruit-kabob tied to Jack has a wonderful payoff for something that seemed completely random. The special effects are gorgeous. You can practically taste the slime and sea salt from the creatures. Davey Jones is a fantastic design and I’m dying to know how they did his tentacle beard. Whether it be motion capture, CGI, or puppetry (was someone billed in the credits for “operating” Bill Nighy? Does that sound like a fluffer?), it’s all dazzling to behold. The Kraken is ferocious and so well designed that it’s destined to give an entire nation?s children nightmares for weeks. Coupled with the equally super expensive Superman Returns, it seems that nowadays if you want special effects that will retain their wow-factor, it helps to have a $200 million dollar budget. Director Gore Verbinsky has a terrific eye for shot compositions; I am convinced that if you give this man good material then he will give you popcorn gold. If you give him bad material, well, then you get shiny but pointless stuff like The Weather Man.
I know this movie, at its center, is empty. It’s grand throwaway entertainment, a true popcorn romp, but yes, when you get down to it the film has little to it. It’s an explosion for the eyes and has some great characters and action choreography, but Dead Man’s Chest is nothing more than very pricey, very tasty cotton candy.
Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest feels less like a rehash and more like the start of an exciting new voyage. It’s darker, bigger in scale, scarier, louder, brasher, but still barrels of fun. Time will tell whether the back-to-back sequels will support enough intrigue to cover two very long, very expensive action movies. But Dead Man’s Chest has the key Pirates ingredients returning: clever screenwriting duo Terry Rossio and Ted Elliott, and, naturally, the irreplaceable Johnny Depp. An early eye gouging might set the icky tone, but this is one sequel that compares favorably to its source. We’re left in a very Empire Strikes Back position, but not after running out of breath keeping up with the many treasures of Dead Man’s Chest. Nothing will recapture the magic of the 2003 original but this is one summer sequel that delivers without letdown. Then again, after Pirates 3, it could all be for naught. See you in 2007!
Nate?s Grade: B+*
*Final grade pending the outcome of Pirates of the Caribbean 3.
UPDATE: Having just seen the third film, I’m somewhat conflicted. Many items from Dead Man’s Chest have little payoff in the third film, At World’s End. So while I wouldn’t grade Dead Man’s Chest any higher after seeing where it concludes, I still find it to be too fun to rate any lower. Its final grade stands.
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