I am a Box Office Prophet

I hardly think that’s accurate, but technically it’s true.  Back in March I submitted some of the writing I’d done here on Photoplay Talk to a film site I’ve always been a fan of called Box Office Prophets. The site, as you may have guessed from the title, dedicates itself to forecasting and analyzing the current Box Office climate.  In addition to weekly articles predicting and dissecting film grosses BOP – that’s what the cool kids call it – offers up a smorgasbord of reviews, quizzes, trailers, releases schedules and snarky columns.  The latter is where I come in.

Having sent my stuff in, a cover note attached with my review of Medicine for Melancholy, a few days passed and I decided not to keep waiting, disappointed but not surprised.  Then as soon as I had let the notion go, the site’s founder David Mumpower emailed saying he dug my stuff.  Wow.  He then gave me some preliminary assignments to test the waters and see if I would be a good fit.  WOW!   I hungrily polished off the assignments, previews for some upcoming films, in a weekend.  After that I was offered the chance to attend press screenings of upcoming indie films Lymelife and Valentino: The Last Emperor.  Naturally I accepted, in less than a week I had gone from being a pretend-critic with a blog to a sort-of-critic for a mid-level website!

After the screenings, I wrote reviews of both films which you can find here and here.  And while seeing my name in a byline was enormously satisfying the reviews took a huge toll on me.  No doubt my lack of experience in writing concise, intelligent and professional reviews played a huge roll in that, but I also think it’s not nearly as fun as ripping on terrible films that win Best Picture.

The thing I had come to love about Photoplay Talk was that I could take the dizzying array of cinematic musings going through my head at any given time and throw them out onto the Internet instead of on unsuspecting bystanders (they generally don’t appreciate it).

Everyday became about trying to balance my assignments at BOP with my updates on PPT (if they can do it I can too).  It proved to be somewhat overwhelming.  As I completed about ten more previews I saw my average time between PPT posts grow from a week to a month, pretty sad considering my pledge to post once a week was only this past January.

Coming up with ideas for film writings started to become a chore, a hobby that took up more time than I was willing to give.  I should mention that the BOP gig, while giving me much greater exposure than my usual readership that sits in the single digits, did not pay.  And though my ultimate goal in starting Photoplay Talk, eventually using it’s contents to get a higher profile position in the film writing world, had been somewhat attained much faster than I ever could have expected, I felt like I might not be able to handle it afterall.

Rather than deal with that issue I just continued to push on until in May, when my day-to-day schedule became too hectic, I started letting BOP go by the wayside as well.  After about a month, David contacted me and asked if I was still interested in doing reviews for them, and if not, he’d look elsewhere.  Feeling pretty guilty I finally wrote him an honest email about how much I could contribute and what types articles I wanted those contributions to be.  I told him I could do about one review a month as it took a lot of time and effort.  But I also said I wanted to figure out a column idea, David had proposed this earlier, one with a vague enough scope so I could write about pretty much whatever I wanted.   My hope was that I could do the same type of work for BOP as I did on PPT (this acronym thing is so fanboy).

A day or two later I got an email agreeing to my terms, the guy’s super nice, leaving me with the task of coming up with an appropriately broad theme and title for my prospective column.  It had been about a month since I had written anything, nothing had really inspired me of late, probably due to fatigue.  But once I saw Terminator Salvation that was no longer a problem.  My hatred for that movie spawned my first entry which I sent to David.  He liked it and wrote back with two proposed titles, Art vs Commerce and Selling Out (not surprisingly, he thought Photoplay Talk was “a bit archaic.”  Ouch, my ego).

Selling Out ended up being the one we went with.  Which I like it a lot, it provides me with ample room to rip on Hollywood nonsense as well as praise Art-House superiority.  There’s also a nice personal tie-in, while I write about how terrible these movies are I kind of secretly love them, Sell Out.  The first post went up on June 5th.  I got my byline and my snarky attitude.  Mission accomplished.

Having said all that, I don’t intend to abandon Photoplay Talk altogether.  I still plan on using it as a place where I can post links to recommendations, tiny quips or musings and as an outlet for when I feel the need to be, shall we say, a little more colorful than Box Office Prophets allows me to be.  I want to extend my sincere gratitude for the small but substantial support I have received in these short months.  It’s helped open up a truly wonderful new dimension to my life.  I hope you’ll keep following me on BOP and, if the mood strikes you, that you’ll share my work with anyone you feel might enjoy it.  As always, happy watching!

I’m Wolverine

The last time we saw Hugh Jackman was back in March when he was singing and dancing his way into our hearts as the host of the Academy Awards.  What a magical night it was.  The highlight was the capper on his opening number.  As he climbed onto a pedestal embodying Mickey Rourke’s Randy the Ram in The Wrestler, Jackman sang triumphantly:

These are the Oscars!
And this is my dream!
I am a Slumdog!
I am a Wrestler!
I’ll rent The Reader!

Then, joyfully proclaiming his Hollywood identity to the world with, as one usually does when expressing themselves through song, overwhelming earnestness, Jackman declares:

I’m Wolveriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!

And so he is.

Obviously this delightful singing and dancing side of Hugh was going to be no where in sight for 20th Century Fox’s summer tentpole X-Men Origins: Wolverine. Obviously Wolverine, the baddass-iest of all superheros, is no powder puff.  He has facial hair.  Smokes cigars.  Has a baaaaaad attitude (but, naturally, a heart of gold).  He fights in wars.  And not just any war.  All of them!  He unleashes his uncontainable rage by throwing his head back opening his arms and screaming at the top of his lungs.  At one point they (I am referring the makers of this film as “they” because rather than being a collaboration of director, writer, designer, producer and studio, it feels like someone typed Wolverine, CGI  and summer movie into a machine and this formulaic, cliche-ridden calculation popped out) even made Wolverine a lumberjack, with axes and saws.  And big trees falling, making big noises.  There’s so much manly testosterone manliness going on this comes to mind.

But how can Hugh Jack-Man be both a singing virtuoso and a brooding superhero?  Sounds confusing to me.  I bet the inside of his head looks like this:

I’m Wolverine!

I’m Wolverine!

I’m Wolveriiiiiiiiiiiiine!

IIIIIIIII’MMMMM WOOOOOOOOLVERIIIIIIIIIINE!

Did somebody say lumberjack?

Make the voices stop!  You can’t have it both ways Hugh.  How are guys supposed to know whether to have “platonic” crushes on you or to be homophobic?

As for the actual film, there’s not much to say.  The origin story is the big thing right now in Hollywood.  At first, in films like Batman Begins and Casino Royale, it provided at much needed detour from the sequel formula.  Now that we have every franchise “rebooting” with a prequel of their own they’re beginning to feel like what they actually are, fourth sequels without a number in the title. The biggest problem with prequels of course is that they are, by definition, exposition.  So the trick is making the story something that the audience cares about so they’re not just looking ahead.  On this front Wolverine fails miserably.  They cover so much ground so fast it feels like a filmed outline.

Another problem is that Marvel was clearly trying to capitalize on The Dark Knight’s success by showcasing their own intense, angry superhero.  The difference is The Dark Knight had substance.  And since they went the dark dramatic path the film is devoid of any sense of fun. There are literally a skinny jeans pocket-full of enjoyable moments.  Ryan Reynolds has about ten lines towards the beginning of the film that serve as brief comic relief.  The rest of the time, between the displays of unmotivated computer animators, we get scenes like Wolverine’s girlfriend telling a story about the Moon and some Indians that (somehow) ends up being the genesis of Wolvy’s eventual namesake.  The scene is so cover-your-eyes-embarrassingly-painful they (everyone involved, including the caterer) should be ashamed of themselves.

Basically the movie’s bad.  Don’t see it.  Wait until it’s on TNT in a year so you don’t have to squelch in your snarky outbursts like it did.

Before I close the book on Wolverine, a movie I saw four days ago and barely remember, I’d like to share the parting moment of my Wolverine experience, one I will not soon forget.  After the credits rolled there was a coda, as is the trend these days.  But instead of being a cool hint at a sequel, it was hilariously pointless.  As my friend and I got up to leave, overflowing with contempt, a guy sitting in front of us turned around and said something like “Really guys? You’re going to complain about a comic book movie?”  And before we had a chance to respond he was already walking away.  Alone.  First of all, interrupting people is just rude.  But second of all, you just walk away?  Ok, here’s my response to you Mr. I-go-to-comic-book-movies-at-midnight-by myself.  You are the reason dreck like this keeps coming out.  You keep shelling out cash for these movies and when they’re crap just shrug your shoulders and say “Hey, it’s a comic book movie.”  Maybe if you had some kind of standards and stopped seeing movies that are obviously garbage then Hollywood would start making better ones.  And as soon as I acquire the ability to resist trailers with pounding soundtracks and bad CGI that’s exactly what I’m going to do!

What’s Good: April 09

So far 2009 has been pretty barren as far as new releases go.  Paul Blart: Mall Cop and Taken have been the top grossers,  Watchmen baffled uninitiated audiences and people seem to be digging to 3D.  I haven’t been able to get to as many films as I’d like but of those I’ve seen in recent weeks here are a couple I think are worth checking out.

Hunger

Hunger chronicles the protests that took place in 1981 at the Maze prison in Britain as IRA prisoners attempted the gain political prisoner status.  Amidst already horrendous conditions prisoners smear the cell walls with feces from floor to ceiling, refuse to bathe- resulting in forced cleaning sessions with a brillo-pad like broom – and, the films ultimate focus, stage a hunger strike led by Bobby Sands (Michale Fassbender).  This is no Slumdog Millionaire.

Films that graphically depict extreme cruelty are nothing new, but I can’t remember ever seeing one that has prompted me to use the word beautiful.  Director Steve McQueen (yes that’s his name and yes it’s a total coincidence) allows the events to play out with very little dialogue primarily relying on visual story-telling, bringing to mind the likes of Terence Malick, which is so assured for a first time director it’s scary.  In one sequence a prison guard, knuckles freshly bloodied for reasons unknown, silently smokes a cigarette as snow gently falls around him.  The scene lasts a good 3-4 minutes, does not elaborate, and is mesmerizing.  This is suitable microcosm for the visually incongruous film that is filled with images that are simultaneously alluring and repulsive.

The sparsely scripted style is sustained throughout save for a sequence in the middle where Sands tells a visiting priest (Liam Cunningham) about his plans for the hunger strike.  Acted with compelling restraint, the two debate his political and personal motivations over a 20-25 minute conversation that is, incredibly, largely captured in one take.  Filmed in a mid shot from the side the men are harshly back-lit, emphasizing Sands swirling cigarette smoke and silhouetting them in a glowing blue outline.   The scene is the only one in the film that features dialogue and feels more like an arresting one-act play.  This is sharp contrast provides perspective  to the rest of McQueen’s film where disturbing acts are witnessed but never talked about.

The final act follows Sands’ ultimate sacrifice which is frighteningly realized by Michael Fassbender’s inspired physical performance that goes beyond losing weight for a role.  The disturbing scenes, which once again play out with little dialogue, see Sand’s body deteriorate all the way to the end.   McQueen adds some haunting touches by interspersing unexplained visions of childhood memories or perhaps just hallucinations, that release Sands mind, and the audiences, from his tortured body.

It’s film you’re not likely to want to rush out and see again.  But it is one you’ll definitely be hearing from when 2009 top ten lists start rolling out.  After seeing this, Steve McQueen is now a huge flag on my radar, not to mention his magnetic and ferociously committed leading man.

Goodbye Solo

As you may remember my favorite film of 2008 was Wendy and Lucy, a film about a down on her luck Michelle Williams and her dog where nothing happens and your heart gets ripped out.  The director of that film, Kelly Reichart, along with the director of Goodbye Solo Ramin Bahrani are starting to turn this minimalist style into something of a tiny movement which has annoyingly been dubbed, neo-neo realism.  Don’t worry, this isn’t film snob fest 2009.

Solo (Souleymane Sy Savane) a jolly Senegalese cab driver in Winston-Salem North Carolina who you are literally in love with 3 seconds into the film engages William (Red West), a craggy hard-nosed southerner, and takes particular concern when he suspects William’s request to be driven to a cliff in the middle of nowhere is an attempt to end his life. William tolerates Solo’s aggressive, or perhaps oblivious, attempts to be his friend making it seem inevitable that the two are a pair of unlikely kindred spirits.

Though the premise is ripe for sentimentality Bahrani keeps the viewer off balance as things don’t fall into the places we expect them to.  And as we, along with Solo, try to decipher what’s going on with the reclusive William the characters burrow deep under our skin.  There is little dialogue and little need for it.  An exchange of closeups towards the films end communicates more to the audience any words ever could.

Most of the film’s actors are non-professional, as is often the norm with these types of films, and there is rarely a false note.  West has some film roles to his credit but is perhaps best remembered as a buddy of Elvis.  Here, his William is at once sympathetic and contemptuous as he quietly simmers with regret.  But it is Souleymane Sy Savane as Solo who serves as the heart beat of the film.  His defiant optimism is so contagious that it turns a somber premise into a story that induces far more grins than frowns.

Interlaced with a quiet beauty, whether it be a swaying tree branch or the bags under William’s eyes, Bahrani has made a film that, while cinematically minimal, is emotionally massive.

For those of you looking for a more commerical good time at the mulitplex (no judgements here) check out Monsters vs Aliens.  Make sure you see it in IMAX 3D, I know it’s $17 but the visuals are quite impressive.  You could also can’t go wrong with Paul Rudd in I Love you, Man.  Not quite as strong as Knocked Up or even last fall’s Role Models but even an average entry from these guys is always a good time.  And if none of that sounds good to you, don’t worry.  Summer begins with Wolverine in only a few weeks, (I’m both serious and joking).