Horton Hears A Who and Chopt

Horton Hears A Who

Written by Ken Daurio and Cinco Paul
Directed by Jimmy Hayward and Steve Martino

In one of my favorite reviews by NY Times film critic A.O Scott, the wry reporter explained, "What distinguishes “Horton Hears a Who!” from the other recent Dr. Seuss film adaptations —“How the Grinch Stole Christmas” and “The Cat in the Hat,” in case you need reminding — is that it is not one of the worst movies ever made." I tend to agree with his sentiments.

While Horton does not belong in the line-up of serious kiddie film offenders (Think: Mr. Magorium's Magic Emporium, and don't kill me: Ratatoulle), it does violate many codes of quality cinema. The characters, in spite of their vivid animation and charming voices, are two dimensional stock types, likely the product of too many writers, too much focus on visuals, and too little creativity. I give you a treasure trove of tired sidekicks--the ditsy schoolgirl, the bickering politicians. The story with classic Seussian wisdom ("A person is a person no matter how small") should be rephrased---a plot is a plot no matter how puny.

For something more substantive: Try chopt salads...green like the Jungle of Nool.

The Band's Visit and Hummus Place

The Band's Visit ( Bikur Ha-Tizmoret)
Written and directed by Eran Kolirin

What seems like a screenwriting exercise for a class in a new genre of inter-cultural Christopher Guest movies (insert Arab police band into Israeli small town) turns out to be an endearing, quirky little art film (the sort that will hopefully end up on the radar of regional Jewish Film Festivals like the feuding falafel stand flick West Bank Story). This has some nice visuals: the powder blue uniformed police band, stoic and ill-suited to the arid Israeli landscape, the opening sequence in the bus station as the Egyptians try to acclimate to the language and social norms of their Israeli environs (they seem to not only be adapting to a new culture a la Lost in Translation, but maybe to a new time, like they have teleported from an era where they would not be familiar with telephones? Perhaps a comment on their conservative Arab backgrounds). It has some nice moments: Khaled, the band's pretty boy, wooing bus clerks with a take on Chet Baker's "Funny Valentine," advising a young Israeli boy on how to comfort/court a girl at a skating rink (this was perhaps the finest 30 seconds of the film), the bickering among the band, among the Israeli families whom the band imposes upon as the members find themselves stranded for the night due to a linguistic misunderstanding (there is no "P" in arabic, so they couldn't find the right Israeli town where their concert was to take place). But the European-style pacing (long shots, extended silences in conversations) will not appease American audiences accustomed to Michael Bay jump-cuts. There is nothing more American than cinematic ADD. Even clocking in at 90 minutes, The Band overstays its welcome. There is a denser film here, but this one wants to keep it light and political message-free. I kept waiting for things to happen, but there was just more talking. Sort of like the Palestinian conflict. Served best with a Mediterranean flavor--turkish coffee and baklava from Hummus Place.

A Vantage Point from JerzeyStyle

Exhausted from the last Oscar viewing push, I defer to my colleague JerzeyStyle for his wise Vantage Point ...could use some Jersey diner style coffee I suppose

We arrive at the latest installment of political commentary from Pete Travers, appropriately entitled Vantage Point. I tried desperately to hate it. It was trite – the East meets West, terrorism expo gone horribly wrong, apocalyptic cataclysm of assassination has been done before. And I will concede, there are major plot holes – not the least of which is Denis Quaid’s superhuman ability to kick a Xanax habit in literally 25 seconds (duty calls?). To start, the rewinding format seems more at home after the encore presentation of Armand Asante in The Odyssey. The film seems to forget that you get put through a background check if you apply for a job at the 7 11 let alone the American Secret Service. One man with undisclosed special ops training is able to kill roughly 30 Secret Service members coming away with little more than a scratch and no one has heard of Kevlar.

There were three elements of the movie that made me respect its critique. First, though subtle as the front end of a Volvo, the depiction of a suicide bomber in the moments of preparation is fascinatingly horrific. The role of the media (specifically cable news) is fascinating. At one moment, you hate them because of their unflinching resolve to broadcast through pipe bomb explosions and sniper shots. On the other, it is clear that the media plays an important role in the transmission of information. The last 30 seconds reveal an even greater truth… but I won’t spill the coffee beans on that one.

The American Studies lover in me relishes the third and final gem, and indeed it is this small but important character that ultimately swayed me. Forest Whitaker is Everyman is brilliant. Unlike the characters in the Nick Cage debacle World Trade Center, we’re not meant to understand that Whitaker is a hero because of the uniform he wears. Rather, we see that he will act heroically because he is capable of relinquishing himself to call of duty to his fellow man (err, 8 year old girl in this case). Though as far-fetched as the rest of the movie, it is impossible to deny that Whitaker’s heroism is inspiring and reminiscent. The things we want to remember most – that we cling to in the danger and tumult of a world where burqa-clad women strap bombs to babies and white men load fertilizer into rental trucks, where students shoot at teachers and peers for no explicable reason, where governments irrationally detain and torture suspected enemies without warrant or just cause, we find in Whitaker’s character – that which we hope we will choose in this of impending peril.

I realize that I have taken a sharp left at sentimental an continued on towards maudlin and I’m happy to the breaks before we cross that bridge. But I think we should give Vantage Point and perhaps its less than brilliant cousins a fighting chance. If for no other reason than it (and in some respects they) may force us all to examine things from a different perspective.