MELANCHOLIA (2011)

Rated: R

Stars: Kirsten Dunst,  Charlotte Gainsbourg,  Kiefer Sutherland,  John Hurt,  Charlotte Rampling


Director: Lars von Trier


Genre: Art House/ Sci-fi-/ Drama  


Slap the Art House label onto a film and it can compensate for a multitude of movie making sins.  Doesn't need to have much of a plot. Doesn't need to employ a lot of imagination, as long as the characters are quirky. And the camera work can appear so amateurish and unsteady that half the time when you're supposed to be looking at someone's face,  you're looking at their belly button. But all this is normally overlooked by fans of the genre if something truly memorable stays with you.(The Brown Bunny , for example, is a film that will send you right to Snoozeville--until Chloe Sevigny  blows you away at the end!) Lars von Trier's  Melancholia answers to all of the above criticisms,  but what saves it are some elements of black comedy,  some fine performances from an impressive cast, and its gorgeous cinematography.


Justine (Kirsten Dunst) is a severely depressed young woman. Not a good time to get married, but what the hell. Her wedding reception at the palatial estate of her sister, Claire, (Charlotte Gainsbourg--who must be seen in von Trier's Antichrist to fully grasp how far she will go to give a gritty performance) and brother-in-law, John, (Kiefer Sutherland) comprises the entire first act of the film. 


Here we are introduced to some of  the aforementioned colorful folk: Justine's dad, (John Hurt) who feigns lifting  fancy silverware and slipping it into his suit pocket;  John, who keeps reminding everyone of how much this lavish affair is setting him back; and Justine's acid-tongued mother, (Charlotte Rampling) who gives a cringe-worthy speech about how she abhors the institution of marriage. (Rampling, who  starred in many a film back in the day,  where her main criterion for taking the role was that her character be NAKED, is now reduced to bit parts playing embittered old biddies. Would have been funny had she  hopped up on the table--with everyone yelling TAKE IT OFF BABY--and gladly obliged once more for old time's sake...but that might not have played with the younger crowd!)


Anyhoo,  things get  progressively worse for Justine. She tells her boss to shove it.  She ducks out of the proceedings to take a leisurely bath. She parries the amorous advances of her groom (Alexander Skarsgard). The evening is falling apart,  but things aren't as bad as they're gonna be, because people start taking notice of this funny looking planet, "Melancholia,"  that is heading our way. There are mixed opinions from the experts as to whether there will be a near miss, or whether the planet is on a collision course with earth.   


The second half of the movie belongs to Claire. While Justine has taken a so what,  the earth is evil and we'd likely be better off attitude about this development, (remember, she's depressed) Claire grows increasingly fearful for herself and her young son, Leo (Cameron Spurr).   


We see no news reports about the advance of the planet,  which looks strangely like our own earth, by the way. No shots of people running through the streets or heading for the mountaintops, though John--the amateur astronomer--does begin stockpiling some survival supplies, while assuring everyone there's nothing to worry about. .  


Bits of  information come via the internet,  but there is an eerie disconnect between this assemblage and the outside world . At first the  impending crisis seems almost secondary, as they're all caught up in their own personal stuff-- like most of us--until the things that really matter loom large enough that they can no longer be ignored. The doppelganger earth on a collision course with our own appears to be a not so subtle metaphor for the path we humans have set upon to destroy ourselves.    


In the end, Claire invokes  a bit of "magic."  The magic wasn't quite there for me--in my overall assessment of Melancholia--but it is still a film worth seeing. Just be sure to watch it with a friend, because you're going to want to discuss it afterward.  


Grade:  B

NEW YEAR'S EVE (2011)

Rated PG-13

Stars: Too numerous to mention (see below)

Director: Garry Marshall

Genre: Comedy/Romance

Check out these names: Robert De Niro, Michelle Pfeiffer, Hillary Swank,

Jon Bon Jovi, Jessica Biel, Abigail Breslin, Josh Duhamel, Halle Berry, Hector Elizondo, Katherine Heigle, Ashton Kutcher, Lea Michele, Chris "Ludacris" Bridges, Zac Efron, Alyssa Milano, Carla Gugino, Jim Belushi, Sarah Jessica Parker, Ryan Seacrest, Sienna Miller...OKAY, THAT'S ENOUGH, DAMMIT...because there are even MORE recognizable celebs in New Year's Eve--a film I had high hopes for, because dat be my favorite party time of the year!

Somehow, director Garry Marshall juggles this huge ensemble cast and its myriad intersecting story lines--mostly involving romantic foibles and folly--trying to connect, reconnect, or make amends for past misdeeds, as everybody gets kinda wistful on New Year's Eve (easy to do when you're falling down drunk!) It's a given what New Year's Eve is building toward--midnight on the last day of the year--when, for example, Katherine Heigle and Jon Bon Jovi's characters, who are ex-lovers, will make or break their chance at reconciliation. The kind of stuff that may pull at your heartstrings in a sappy, manipulative kind of way.

But too many characters = too much fragmentation = not enough character development. Wouldn't have mattered much anyway, because these are TV sitcom characters in a movie with TV sitcom laughs...meaning the funny parts are mostly lame, tame, and not really funny.

We've all seen the star-vehicle movies that were designed just to showcase the big name, and not much else (every ELVIS movie, for example). Same thing here, but with more stars and plotlines than you can shake a bottle of bubbly at, or care about keeping track of.

See, you'd think--or hope--that getting stuck in an elevator with hottie Lea Michele might produce more possibilities than having her blast a song in your ear at close quarters, (as she shouted out with Glee) but no--New Year's Eve is that vehicle for stars who sing to sing, and for stars who emcee television shows to emcee, and for stars who've become typecast for being in bad romantic comedies (Katherine, you're better than this) to be in another bad romantic comedy.

A fun thing you can do with New Year's Eve, though, is to try to spot all the celebs who are listed in the credits--like Penny Marshall. Where the hell was she? I didn't see her. Another one I missed was basketball star Amare Stoudemire, who is listed in the credits as a "party dancer."

Weird.

Grade: C

MY WEEK WITH MARILYN (2011)

Rated: R

Stars: Michelle Williams, Eddie Redmayne, Kenneth Branagh, Emma Watson, Judi Dench

Director: Simon Curtis

Genre: Drama

To those who knew her, Marilyn Monroe was known as a pretty sharp cookie--not at all the dumb blonde persona she maintained for the public. And that may be my only criticism of Michelle Williams' performance in My Week With Marilyn. Williams plays the mega-star closer to that public image, even in private. But in every other way, she nails the character--capturing the little girl vulnerability of a troubled woman who might well have traded in her fame for the feeling of being truly loved.

My Week With Marilyn chronicles a brief moment in time in the life of the late writer/documentary film maker Colin Clark. In 1956, Clark was a callow 23-year-old who had landed a job as a lowly production assistant for the the filming of The Prince and the Showgirl--a movie Marilyn Monroe co-starred in with Sir Laurence Olivier. Marilyn was newly wedded to playwright Arthur Miller, but he wasn't around much for the making of the film in Britain.

As the most celebrated woman in the world, Marilyn had some obvious trust issues. But she took a shine to the young lad. His puppy dog adoration and protectorship of her must have seemed like a rock she could rely on, as he alternately played escort, nursemaid, and suitor (at least in his own mind) to her during the turbulence of the film production--which saw Monroe showing up late for work and forgetting her lines.

Eddie Redmayne plays Mr. Clark as the dogged young man with stars in his eyes, determined to find a niche for himself in the film industry.

Kenneth Branagh, as Laurence Olivier, does a fine job of capturing the actor's petulance and befuddlement with the process of simultaneously directing (which he did) and starring in a film with Monroe.

Dame Judi Dench adds a touch of old school class to the proceedings.

In the minor subplot, Emma Watson is well cast as a young girl who has fallen for Colin, but sees it going for naught as the allure of the goddess continues to draw him in. (I had my own exquisite pain of the brush with fame when, at the same tender age, I spent an afternoon in the company of the number one female pop group of all time. The one I really liked held onto my hand for what seemed to be an inordinately long time, as we made small talk. That evening I wept at the realization that she could never be mine...so to say that I could identify with the young Mr. Clark's emotional predicament would be an understatement.)

I kept wondering how much skin they were going to allow Michelle Williams to display--especially if there were to be any topless shots--inviting the inevitable comparisons with Monroe's body. (I've seen both Monroe and Williams topless--each quite lovely in her own way--but I don't think anyone with a PRACTICED eye, such as...uh...MYSELF...would mistake one for the other!) So director Simon Curtis plays it just right. He gives us a couple of brief shots of Michelle's bottom--which I dare say, old chap, will compare favorably to anyone's...including Ms. Monroe!

The soundtrack, featuring some lush tunes from Nat King Cole (DAMN--he was a good singer) is perfect.

My Week With Marilyn is a small gem of a film that will break your heart...just like Marilyn broke everyone else's.

Grade: A

THE DESCENDANTS (2011)

Rated: R

Stars: George Clooney, Shallene Woodley, Amara Miller, Nick Krause, Beau Bridges, Judy Greer, Matthew Lillard

Director: Alexander Payne

Genre: Drama/Comedy

There's a scene in The Descendants that pays homage (perhaps subconsciously) to Last Tango In Paris. It's where Honolulu attorney Matt King (George Clooney) is at the hospital bedside of his wife, Elizabeth--who lies in an irreversible coma as the result of a boating accident--giving her an earful of his pent-up emotions about everything from her infidelity, to leaving him in the lurch to raise their two problematic daughters by himself. I immediately flashed back to Brando's poignant, profanity-laced barrage unleashed upon the corpse of his cheating spouse, Rosa, in that classic film.

Anyway, it's quite tempting to 'ave a go at the old bird when she can't bite you back, apparently, which is just what Elizabeth's intractable teenage daughter, Alexandra, (Shallene Woodley) does as well. Even the wife of the guy she was screwing around with gets her licks in.

Yes... it's a drama. Yes... it's a comedy. And that's called a "dramedy" where I hail from, Mister. But one with a subtle touch, like the mixture of humor and pathos in everyday life.

Speaking of subtlety, that would be Clooney's performance for about the first half of the film. UNDERSTATED, I believe is the word. I wasn't sure if Matt King was supposed to be a guy who was just out of touch with his feelings, or if Clooney was mailing it in. Fortunately, our faith in George's acting ability is restored when the plot elements in The Descendants require him to get pissed off at friends who've been holding back the truth about his wife's shenanigans--then, with his young charges in tow, island hops over to Kauai to confront the erstwhile home wrecker, real-estate agent Brian Speer (Matthew Lillard). Ostensibly, Matt just want to inform Speer about his wife's dire predicament, but we know that he wants to get in the guy's face some too.

Speer ties into the subplot, as he stands to make a killing from the sale of 25,000 acres of pristine beach front property, previously handed down to King and his clan, of which Matt happens to be the sole trustee. A tangled web we weave.

All of it leads to Matt's eventual epiphany, about taking a stand in the face of overwhelming opposition. When it's all said and done, life goes on-- and The Descendants, gingerly groping its way along the darkened hallways of life, reminds us of that better than most.

Evaluations:

Beau Bridges shines as Matt's cousin, Hugh.

Patricia Hastie, as the comatose Elizabeth, gives a stiff performance.

Grade: B

MARTHA MARCY MAY MARLENE (2011)

Rated :R

Stars: Elizabeth Olsen, John Hawkes, Sarah Paulson, Hugh Dancy

Director: Sean Durkin

Genre: Mystery-Suspense/Drama

Writer/director Sean Durkin had the opportunity to play up some of the more positive aspects of communal living--such as cooperative effort, family values, and...uhh...you never have to look far to find a babysitter! Instead, in Martha Marcy May Marlene he gives us the stereotypical cult with a charismatic, sociopathic leader--a la Charlie Manson--who lures wayward waifs away from their homes with a bunch of double speak and new-age mumbo jumbo.

When we join young Martha, (Elizabeth Olsen--who bears a striking resemblance to her famous older sisters, Mary Kate and Ashley, but with more meat on her bones) she is making her getaway from said commune in the Catskills. She calls her sister--the only family she has left--and in a halting conversation, is torn between wanting to return to normal society, or going back to the farm. And therein lies the crux of the film. When Martha moves in with sister Lucy, (Sarah Paulson) and her prickly husband, Ted, (Hugh Dancy) the emotional conflict she experiences builds into something progressively darker for the audience, as the events of her time with the clan are juxtaposed against the present in continual flashback/flash forward fashion. It's an effective device. Martha Marcy May Marlene is like a story of parallel universes, where similar kinds of events occur in very different ways.

Martha--who also goes by the other names in the title at one time or another--is a haunted and deeply disturbed young girl. Not only by what has previously occurred, but by the psychological hold the cult and its messianic leader (John Hawkes) still maintains over her.

A word of caution. Don't blink or you'll miss the ending. Some will no doubt be disappointed by it. But the more I think about it, it may be perfect. It's creepy and foreboding...I'll say that much.

THE FINAL WORD

Good performances all around, especially from Elizabeth Olsen in her first starring role. She strips her soul bare, and strips off her clothes.

WHAT MORE COULD WE ASK?

And though I'm a little disturbed (but probably not as disturbed as Martha) that there may be an intended anti-naked hippie message here, (my roots, man...my roots) Martha Marcy May Marlene obviously wouldn't work without it. So I'm willing to forgive.

Peace, brother.

Grade: B +

A VERY HAROLD & KUMAR 3D CHRISTMAS (2011)

Rated: R

Stars: John Cho, Kal Penn, Neil Patrick Harris, Danny Trejo

Director: Todd Strauss-Schulson

Genre: Comedy

On the raunch meter, A Very Harold & Kumar 3D Christmas is on a par with Bridesmaids and Horrible Bosses. But because the theme is Christmas, there are additional sacred cows to be sacrificed to the gods of gross-out humor. No one--and I mean NO ONE--is immune!

The plot here is to get the estranged buddies--Harold, (John Cho) who is now a Wall Street businessman, and Kumar, (Kal Penn) still a slacker and a stoner--reunited for another whacked out adventure. When Kumar receives a holiday package intended for Harold, he obligingly delivers it to his old friend's residence , and this is where the fun begins. The pair is charged with nothing less than to save Christmas, after they open the package to discover a gigantic joint which, after being lit, ends up burning down the twelve foot fir that Harold's father-in-law (the menacing Danny Trejo) has lovingly raised from a sapling to become this year's holiday centerpiece.

Their Christmas eve quest to find a replacement tree before the family returns home from midnight Mass will lead to encounters with belligerent, foul-mouthed teenagers (are there any other kind?) who get even for losing a game of beer pong by spiking the eggnog and sending our heroes into a scary hallucinogenic trip--depicted in claymation, no less; a harrowing run-in with a Russian mobster who has ordered them killed in retaliation for a suspected attempt to deflower his hot-to-trot teenage daughter; and accidentally shooting Santa Claus out of the sky.

How Harold and Kumar end up in the chorus line of a Christmas stage production with Neil Patrick Harris playing himself as an outwardly gay, but secretly heterosexual perv, is one of the most inventive sequences in the film. And there are generous holiday helpings of T & A, with a side trip to heaven and some lovely topless angels and nuns. If your sense of humor is irreverent enough to survive all this, we have an adorable toddler who inadvertently gets high on pot fumes and cocaine dust.

ASSESSMENT:

• I'd classify A Very Harold & Kumar 3D Christmas as a guilty pleasure--the kind of movie where characters give into their basest instincts in speech and behavior, like many would do if we didn't feel bound by social convention and political correctness. For that reason, this merry brand of madcap madness can serve as an exhilarating release...like the secret fantasies of Miss Manners--letting her hair down as she falls off the bar stool, muttering vague sexual innuendo. We're all a conflicting jumble of instinct and inhibition, otherwise movies like A Very Harold & Kumar 3D Christmas this wouldn't get made.

• The first time I ever saw 3D--way back in the day--it seemed magical. Objects appeared to fly right off the screen and into your lap. I'd avoided the recent revival of this technology until now, because most of the films that employed it just weren't my cup of tea. For some reason, I'm not that impressed with it now. Was it the glasses? Did I have them on backwards? I'd go back and forth from looking with the naked eye, to employing the glasses, and, of course, there was some difference in depth perception, but maybe not enough for me to justify the extra three dollar surcharge. But don't let that stop you, especially if you're ready to get into the holiday mood. After all, you'll spend a lot more than that on a present for the jerky brother-in law you only see during holiday gatherings--the one whose name you can't quite recall.

Grade: B +

THE RUM DIARY (2011)

Rated: R

Stars: Johnny Depp, Richard Jenkins, Amber Heard, Michael Rispoli, Aaron Eckhart, Giovanni Ribisi

Director: Bruce Robinson

Genre: Action-Adventure/ Comedy

Johnny Depp channels his good (but dead) friend, Hunter S. Thompson, in The Rum Diary--the screen adaptation of Thompson's first novel about his adventures and misadventures in Puerto Rico circa 1960-- that remained unpublished until after the "gonzo" journalist had gained his notoriety. Isn't it funny how a piece of writing can be rejected by publishers as unworthy, but once the writer becomes famous for his later endeavors, it's suddenly not only good enough to publish, but to make a movie out of as well!!!

Depp is Paul Kemp, a fledgling novelist with a drinking problem who lands a job at the fictional San Juan Star, the island's English language daily that is on the verge of going belly up. (I landed a gig in P.R. myself in 1968, and the real San Juan Star was alive and well--in fact, being in the media, I worked with some of the reporters from that paper, which only recently ceased publication due to economic issues in 2008.)

Kemp, initially assigned to writing horoscopes by his embattled editor, Lotterman, (Richard Jenkins) obviously has a low threshold for tedium, so he teams up with photographer Sala, (Michael Rispoli) and together they get into drunken altercations with some of the locals, (helping to reinforce the image of the Ugly American...thank you very much) land in jail, and get bailed out by Sanderson, (Aaron Eckhart) an unscrupulous land developer who sees his opportunity to manipulate the young reporter into writing glowing reports about his scheme to build luxury hotels on a pristine neighboring island, and thus open up paradise to more hordes of tourists, all in the name of the mighty dollar. (The island, though never identified in the film, is Vieques-- which the U.S. navy was using as a bombing range, against the wishes of the inhabitants of the island, for many years.)

Gotta have some romance, of course, and Kemp finds himself falling for Sanderson's luscious girl-gone-wild girlfriend, Chenault, (Amber Heard) which is going to complicate things between himself and Sanderson, and lead to Kemp's epiphany, where he begins the transformation from hack horoscope writer and shill for the corporate world to crusading journalist. Here he gets to wax philosophical about truth and taking the bastards down--an attempt to steer this capricious, careening movie back onto the road and deliver something of substance--trite though the message may be.

What I liked:

• A few of the individual scenes in The Rum Diary are pretty hot--like when Kemp and Sanderson's borrowed car and borrowed girlfriend, Chenault, are speeding along, playing a game of chicken to see who will scream first with the pedal flat out to the metal. Another one finds Kemp, Sanderson, and Chenault on the neighboring island of Saint Thomas, with the hedonistic young lovely dancing and losing her inhibitions with a group of local men, amidst an aura of escalating danger to the Americanos.

What I didn't like:

• Scenes of cock-fighting. This barbaric "sport" is now illegal in all fifty states and the District of Columbia, and in many other countries as well. Sure, we're talking about Puerto Rico in the early sixties, and the cock-fighting action in The Rum Diary was monitored by the American Humane Association. Soft rubber spurs replaced the lethal metal ones that are normally used to facilitate a fight to the death. Still, there was no attempt made here to cast cock-fighting in any other light than a popular gambling event where lots of money changes hands.

In summation:

It's a patchwork kind of film--thin on plot, but no shortage of belly laughs--if you can enjoy drunken, slovenly, somewhat degenerate type characters (now I'm flashing back to my early family life!) The most unpleasant thing was the guy sitting a couple of seats down from me who was laughing so ANNOYINGLY loud and hard, I felt they should have removed him from the theater. But hey, it's the one place where you get to let it all out--where you get to be just as big of an A-HOLE as some of the characters on the screen... and things being the way they are, we surely need that.

Grade: C +