Quantum of Solace

Quantum of Solace
Written by Paul Haggis
Directed by Marc Forster

We are all familiar with the Bond cannon conventions on this the 22nd outing of the most successful film franchise of all time. With Quantum, our expectations begin with the sexy hallucinogenic opening credit sequence, introducing the title pop theme (this time featuring R&B siren Alicia Keyes and off-beat rocker Jack White) and remain until the final gun shot freeze frame, shadowing our dashing well-suited hero in crimson. For this reason, the creative team can't mess with the formula. They can change the villains to make their misdeeds more timely (in Solace, no more cold war tyrants, but rather environmentalists gone bad), the babes to make their ethnic backgrounds or hemlines more contemporary (Gemma Arterton's Molly Ringwald-look-alike Strawberry Fields sports a Prada party dress which is almost a dead ringer for Michelle Obama's Grant Park gown), and the locations/gadgets/cars to set a global standard.

But the trick to all this jiggering is an engaging thru-line, for which screenwriter Paul Haggis (Crash, Million Dollar Baby) has proved his expertise in other efforts. However, this Bond flick is a misstep: a recession-era Bond, which meets satisfactory standards and nothing more. Within the spy genre of glamorous excess, these cars seem painfully economical (dough-like Smart Cars). There are few of the legendary car chases. Perhaps gas prices have proved prohibitive?

We have entered a decade where we no longer request shaken, not stirred martinis, but rather we down tonight's drink special. If James Bond has abandoned his discriminating tastes, what hope does that offer the rest of us? Time to switch to one-ply.

However, Mr. Craig continues to make a case for the vitality of this series. One just wishes his well-defined muscles could be paired with an equally chiseled script.

Some items from my Netflix cue

The Visitor
Forgetting Sarah Marshall
The Motorcycle Diaries
Lars and the Real Girl
Billy Elliot

I swear I'll be a better blogger...Rachel Getting Married/Burn After Reading/W/Synecdoche New York

Okay, so I'm on a caffeine purge which is affecting my ability to beanscreen. Two weeks clean albeit a dc & rum once or twice.

Nonetheless, Hollywood keeps churning them out. Here's some of what I've seen in detox:

Rachel Getting Married---problem: do not see this film if you A) are forced to sit too close to the screen, B) have a tendency towards motion sickness, C) find loading a dishwasher uninteresting, D) already saw Girl, Interrupted and are over privileged upper middle class waif disorder flicks, E) had a large bag of popcorn and are sitting next to a woman from Long Island eating a smelly mustard hot dog, F) All of the above.

If you selected F, you are me. And in which case, this film is not for you. Though I respect Jonathan Demme's work and thought the wedding within the film was lovely (sucker for saris and New England homes), it was the exact time of fall flick fodder that I usually avoid. Overhyped because nothing else is coming out to compare it too. Except Saw V.

Burn After Reading--This got slammed by critics, who were expecting an all star cast and all star production team to deliver an all star black comedy strike. Not the case, but not completely a gutterball either. I loved Brad Pitt's character and the premise was pretty laugh out loud, sort of a poor man's Dr. Strangelove. Frances McDormand has the most expressive face. Lots of fun with that character's romantic pitfalls. But George Clooney's comic timing is underutilized and the film doesn't quite find its footing.

W--While I think it is important to see this film as an American voting in the upcoming election (if you are an American not voting in the upcoming election, we can no longer be friends and thus you must discontinue reading my blog right NOW!), it is hard to watch. Because this is not a work of fiction folks, but rather eight years of the shared experience of our nation, spin control from a moron. Oliver Stone does not send up W unfairly, instead he is given a partisan even hand. Best casting I've seen in a long while, if they offered Oscars for that. Too long, like the Bush presidency.

Synecdoche, New York--Charlie Kaufman's latest mindfuck, this time about a melancholy theatre professor who wins a MacArthur genius grant after a regional production of Death of A Salesman. He uses the grant to stage a twenty-year installation piece inside a midtown warehouse where reality and theatricality are blurred causing his personal relationships (with Catherine Keener, Samantha Morton, and Michelle Williams) to teeter and collapse. Sure there are moments of absurdist brilliance, but the whole thing is too ponderous and artsy to be truly captivating. Note: the indie movie audience of the upper west side couldn't even stand for it, half the theatre cleared out 1 hour into it (New Yorkers put up with little, including tedious self-indulgent filmmaking). If this whole piece was meta, a comment on life about a comment on life, I think I don't lead the life Kaufman subscribes to. Thank god, otherwise, I would walk out.

I have been playing blog-hooky: Vicky Christina Barcelona/Choke

Blame it on the unseasonably summer-like weather, my new addiction to unproductive insomnia, several weekend vacays to cote de jersey, but I have neglected my blog responsibilities. How are you fine folks going to know what movies to see, avoid, quote at the water cooler.

A few highlights from the break (and perhaps the most incongruent films yet):

Vicky, Christina, Barcelona---Woody Allen loves pretty girls in cosmopolitan landscapes. ScarJo seems to be his muse of choice (shh!!! don't tell mira sorvino) in this romance novella. At first I liked it, maybe for hottie Bardem and the hot chemistry with Penelope Cruz. But I have already forgotten the key moments. Haven't these women read Madame Bovary? Watched an ep or two of Desperate Housewives? Do they think they are the first dissatisfied modern American couples? Slash didn't ScarJo carry on the whole "Woe is my American expat alienation" in Lost in Translation?

Choke---Let me try to summarize, recovering sex addict, day worker at Colonial Williamsburg attempts to save his sociopath mother, currently wasting away in a mental hospital by faking choke incidents at restaurants and extorting his fellow restaurant patron rescuers. Somehow this movie worked for what it was, thanks to a perfect ensemble cast, and situations too strange to fail. I admit I struggled with the mother/son plotline--a little trite and honestly, Angelica Hueston is fierce. But she is essentially playing the same Wes Anderson "Royal Tenebaums" character which isn't as fierce as this character needs to be. Less fragility, more ferocity. Rentable.


I am lately into Iced Red Tea. Find it at your local bodega.

Working Girl

Working Girl

Director:

Mike Nichols

Writer:

Kevin Wade

Tonight I re-watched Working Girl from the 80s for the millionth time. However, in Central Park as part of the outdoor summer film festivals in all the Boroughs, the film truly came to life. A quintessential New York experience, which encapsulates the very soul of New Yorkers (or at least those passionate and hopeful types with whom I tend to associate). When this film was released in 1988, its tagline was: For anyone who's ever won. For anyone who's ever lost. And for everyone who's still in there trying.
I think that's pretty much sums up New Yorkers in our entirety. Meanwhile, young Harrison Ford...wow.

Monday poll: Worst movie ever and worst movie experience

On a slow day at the office, I like to engage the online community in what I call an afternoon poll.  Today I queried: "What is the worst movie you've ever seen and what is the worst movie experience?"  I was pleased with all the responses.  Highlights from the peanut gallery included for your own office amusement:

FILMS: 

*Mr. Bean's Vacation--I don't understand this comedy and thus question it being classified as such.

*The Net-- I quote "so I could make out with my sixth grade crush in the back row" (Could someone please tell me what happened to Sandra Bullock?  They've been showing Miss Congeniality on repeat for weeks...is this a search cry?).

*All the Pretty Horses--this is, in fact, a horrible movie...a hetero Brokeback is just not that interesting.

*A Cinderella Story---I am not sure how my friend was tricked into this film outing.

*Cats and Dogs--I was actually not aware of this movie.  I am not sure how such a cinematic achievement could have slid past my radar, but a quick imdb search solved that crisis.  WOW.  This may be the worst movie ever.  For further proof: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0239395/

*The Island--ewwww

And my own shortlist:

*Elizabethtown

*Garden State

*Gross Pointe Blank

*Hush

*Deep Impact

*Lost in Space

*Evening

(Okay, these are likely not the worst, but the ones I can think of off the top of my head).

EXPERIENCES:

These were not exactly what I had anticipated.  But I did enjoy my friends response re: Gangs of New York screening.  He and his friends got thrown out for mocking a woman in religious garb.  While I don't condone this kind of shenanigans, my question is why was a fundamentalist seeing Gangs of New York?  Isn't it a little too heretical?  Am I wrong, but isn't Cameron Diaz playing a prostitute?  And isn't Daniel Day Lewis impersonating a butcher?  The kind that doesn't pray to the meat before he filets it?  

My own worst film outing took place on the opening night of a film we like to call TITANIC. My best friend got violently ill and missed the second-half of the film.  AKA when it sinks.  Please remember the time in which every female under 18 had seen this film at least double their age number.  Not my friend.  She has yet to see that old woman drop the rock in the ocean ever.  

Alright, back to your livelihoods citizens.

Tropic Thunder and NYC ICY

Tropic Thunder

Written/directed by Ben Stiller (and Justin Theroux)

Tropic Thunder next to Louise Bourgeois...so bizarre, yet so in sync with my eclectic filmic tastes. This popcorn flick was one of the most anticipated of the past two months (blame that on who you would like).  The premise (the three biggest stars shooting the worst jungle action movie, come horrible reality show when drug lords take over the film shoot) is pretty funny, especially when you consider Jack Black, Ben Stiller, and Robert Downey Jr. as a black guy..but hilarity really ensures from all the odd cameos...Matthew McConaughey and Tom Cruise in his best role since Jerry Maguire (if not ever) as Les Grossman, meglomaniac studio executive.  Yes, there were many one-jokes, as I call them, carried out to 90 minutes.  However, if there are several interweaving one-jokes, it's okay.  Like lots of characters interacting, pushing each others' set of traits.  Pure situational comedy but nevertheless, entertaining in a teenage boy kind-of-way.  You sensed it was going to happen, it does, yet it is still funny because the actors are experts at this kind of humor.  Everyone is along for the ride.  

Maybe the cinema equivalent of NYC ICY...you know what you are in for when you step in the door.  Hell has frozen over.