Short, Tweet, and to the Point

(Not even an eternity lasts forever! Neither do these blue blurbs.)


[ Rec ] (2007) ... C+ (47) [ Strictly a genre exercise, albeit a reasonably effective one until a certain point where the jump scares become predictable, which is a shame to say the least because the late climax is intended to be the most unnerving [ Rec ] has to offer. Evidently zombie movies are now so commonplace the narrative can go completely without saying, which is probably for the better given the low aspirations of [ Rec ], leaving more time to focus on perfecting the whole just-caught-on-camera approach to storytelling ... except even in light of their high concept filmmakers Jaume Balaguero and Paco Plaza still randomly revert back to traditional plotting during the film's latter half, pausing to drop unremarkable tidbits concerning the origin of the disease (infected pets, possessed children) that never coalesce into anything meaningful. Especially tedious is the segment prior to the haywire conclusion where Vidal and her cameraman scour newspaper clippings for clues; Vidal essentially turns into Navi the Fairy (Look! Listen!), literally pointing the camera back and forth to capture every new revelation, which breaks the form because the viewers must be manually led through the reveal. The story continuations represent pointless digressions, but the reality show premise justifies the first person far better than Cloverfield (i.e. why are these people still filming?), though [ Rec ] still succumbs to "why the heck are people loudly whispering, breathing heavily, and freaking out when it's just been declared silence is the only way to survive?" syndrome. Seems nitpicky but it's not like I can really discuss the nonexistent subtext. Hell, there's not even text. ]

He's Just Not That Into You (2009) ... C- (32) [ Romantic comedies haven't really been good since / besides Groundhog Day, and if recent genre exploits are any indication it's because their skills are instead honed in the fine art of pandering to current culture. Are audiences sick and tired of stuffing their faces with cotton candy feel-good sentimentality from prior romcoms, and in the mood for something more downbeat and down-to-Earth? Another sterling example of social divining, He's Just Not That Into You is one step ahead; it's pretty sure audiences want the same old fluff under the guise of being downbeat and down-to-Earth, and it's pretty about to give it to them.

He's Just Not That Into You feigns turning over a new leaf of realism for romantic comedies in its oft-repeated, eponymous mantra. Via several weaving storylines the film explores variations on its principal observation that many romantic forays are doomed to failure because somebody becomes disinterested. All of the stories span the film's running length, though the movie is arbitrarily subdivided in order to insert irritating "real people, real problem" segments at the beginning of each where "ordinary" folks offer grassroots commentary that conveniently reinforces the film's idea about relationships and boredom. The real bother here though is that He's Just Not Into You has no genuine intention to see through such a resolution. While Jennifer Connelly's subplot upholds America's 50% divorce rate that seems to elude many Hollywood romances, the film's other three stories profess emotional apathy or disappointment but secretly practice otherwise, none quite so blatant as Justin Long's barstool advice to Ginnifer Goodwin, which repeatedly takes the form of the film's title - if phrased differently - before his completely contradictory 11th hour decision throws everything out the window. Relationships are tough, but there's hope yet. Ladies, it would seem you're all the exception to the rule. ]

Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian (2009) ... C- (28) [ While the original Night at the Museum ultimately imparted that life's obstacles were best overcome by heeding fortune cookie platitudes, Battle of the Smithsonian pulls double duty and adds two more noxious conceits to the muddle, as it suggests to U.S. children they're living in the greatest country in the world, and that there's no such thing as disappointment. If Smithsonian seems as lukewarm and scattershot as its predecessor, the cause is likely the simple fact for 95% of its running length director Shawn Levy is content merely to replay that film's rampant mediocrity, from the failed gag where Ben Stiller engages in a slapping contest with a monkey to its numerous minor characters who now have even less to do because there are now fifty gazillion new minor characters with nothing to do. Smithsonian's new characters are once again historical figures sporting stock screenwriting traits for personalities, spearheaded by Hank Azaria's fictional pharaoh Kahmunrah whose baffling Egyptian accent sounds inexplicably "gay-th." (Each 's' is pronounced 'th' ... ith tho thilly!) Amy Adams also makes an appearance as an overbearing Amelia Earhart who wallows in 60's progressivism and spouts bullcrap feminist treacle like "never send a man to do a woman's job!" and slapping Ben Stiller before forcing herself onto him romantically. This sentiment is played for laughs despite how with roles reversed, audiences would construe the situation as outdated and bigoted. Earhart aids Stiller in the quest to forestall Kahmunrah from unleashing the otherwordly demons of some ooga-booga tomb, a journey that conveniently enables Stiller to "regain his moxie" and fence-mend relations in the juvenile ethos of the original. In that film Union and Confederate forces were instructed to cease fighting because they were "brothers underneath" - despite being ideologically opposed - while in Smithsonian, we're told not to judge a "sassy cephlapod" by its cover and that Custer need not feel depressed over his inadequacies because "the past is the past!" But perhaps the final nail in the coffin for Battle of the Smithsonian is its insufferable go-America mentality, enunciated twice as the film praises American "can-do spirit" and "ingenuity," evidentally defined here as memorizing Pi and flying biplanes into clutch situations, all topped off in ludicrous fashion as an ass-kickin' Abe Lincoln sticks it to the troop of underworld bird warriors. In the spirit of the film's only chuckle-worthy joke, Battle of the Smithsonian's jejune patriotism could stand to be tempered by a little modesty, because after all, the moon landing was simply one giant step for a mannequin. ]

Zombieland (2009) ... D (18) [ No need to review this, I will just reproduce the telling, last section of the script.

Actual Transcription of Jesse Eisenberg's Concluding V/O

"After eighty minutes of witless meandering, I suddenly realize the necessity of summarizing what exactly is the point of this movie and also why this movie was made - y'know, so there's no moron left behind - despite how rookie director Ruben Fleischer sledge-hammered this so-called subtext on multiple prior occasions where the words 'Rule #32: Enjoy the Little Things' were blatantly depicted on the screen. Guys ... this movie is about doing big heroic things to impress the people you love / just met five minutes ago, and also about enjoying the little things life has to offer. Before the events of this movie I was just an apathetic, lovelorn World of WarCraft-playin' student - much like you, target audience! - but now I understand the importance of family and relationships and also how you should enjoy the little thi-- wait, did I say that already? Anyways, you could even say that up until my change of heart, I was just like a zombie ... before all the people were ACTUALLY zombies! (Geddit?) Furthermore, to all the aspiring screenwriters out there I would just like to say you too can make a hit movie if you really try - loosely equated to indulging in topical items like Facebook and movies that have just recently been released, as well as aligning your movie's subject matter with the current fads - and also if you just sit back, mellow out, and enjoy the little things. THE END." ]

I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell (2009) ... F (2) [ I hope nobody rips off Roger Dodger's glimpse into the behavior of the suave alpha male, except swapping out that film's insight for indiscriminate vitriol and dumbass you-got-served similes ... Oh, too late. Hypothesis on how this project began: Tucker Max awakened and thought to himself, "I'm such an arrogant douchebag this feat should be captured on film, so I'll write a movie about myself - y'know, because people care." No big surprise that Tucker's autobiography of lurid verbal condescension and sexual conquest is just an exaggerated foundation for his eventual personality about-face, whose nadir involves a search for a toilet so shameless one can't help but laugh at the misguided absurdity of a scene actual adults decided made the perfect climax. Look no further than Jesse Bradford's supporting role as Emotionally Scarred Prick Awaiting Kindred Spirit for a primer on how characters can summarize their own personality for the sake of the morons watching the movie, implicitly earmarking the audience as a viable object of ridicule alongside the film's notion of females - a playground of bimbos mostly unable to defend themselves against reductive wordplay and "yo mama so" assaults, including but not limited to... Lines Delivered within 5 Seconds of Each Other Dept: "You're so hot ... I'd never leave your vaginal area unless I was cummin' on your face!" and "I'm gonna hit it so hard whoever pulls me out of you is gonna become king of England!" Now imagine an entire movie consisting of nothing but this. ]

Phoebe in Wonderland (2009) ... B (69) [ No secret here - I'll applaud anything competent whose subtext refutes the Rx angst ("I hate the world because the world hates me!") of Thumbsucker et al as well as the fad of Hollywood, guilt-laden, parent-child relationships where parents must sacrifice their professional careers to slather their children with attention. Where these two fallacies overlap is that children are always the victim, never with any responsibility - much less capability - to solve their own problems. Long story short Phoebe in Wonderland turns the tables. The film sympathizes with its well-intentioned adults faced with the daunting, possibly insurmountable task of funneling all sorts of childhood eccentricities into discrete entities with symptoms and solutions - represented here by the challenge of diagnosing Phoebe's psychological problems as well as Campbell Scott's character. He plays the hilarious school principal prone to continual bucking of responsibility and correcting himself, internally hemming and hawing because Phoebe is unresponsive to standard disciplinary action. The twist however is that adults are blinded by their relative maturity, and that the children hold the power to overcome their dilemmas. When the school theatre performs Alice in Wonderland, Phoebe celebrates the combination of culture and autonomy to spur children towards self-acceptance, highlighting the pinnacle of this blossoming by interspersing earlier excerpts from Swan Lake where Odette morphs from swan into princess. Adults may be fortunate enough to serve as the lynchpin of child development Phoebe argues, but from the perspective of a kid in wonderland, their helpful efforts seem like running in place twice as fast. The magic of maturity arrives when children delight in roleplaying, but ultimately choose their own. ]

A Serious Man (2009) ... B- (55) [ Post-Oscar for the Coens includes two off-the-wall, absurdist comedies in a row; why don't more recipients follow their example? The first scene is truly the film in a nutshell: a parable where two conflicting opinions about whether a rabbi (originally thought dead) is a dybbuk reveal how people make religious and ethical decisions with imperfect information. The parable doesn't really end, mind you - the rabbi simply laughs and leaves - and the film itself displays the same symptoms. Job's whirlwind materializes and crystallizes the running metaphor but it feels like laziness - the decision to forgo heft and finalize things with an ambiguous, cosmic joke. (Biblically speaking it should be a good sign, and there's nowhere to go but up for Larry after he succumbs to bribe money and receives prompt punishment in the form of his physician's bad news.) Whereas the book of Job was designed to reward blind faith and ensure readers bad things happen to good people as part of the Master Plan, A Serious Man satirizes the certainty of organized religion (viz. Larry's pleas for assistance from the rabbis, including Danny's bar mitzvah, where the head rabbi takes him into private custody and rambles gibberish about Jefferson Airplane) and shifts the ethical compass to an insular, individual position. Why do good people suffer? Both the film and Job pose the same question, using test of faith methodology to provide resolution. If nobody has all the answers, A Serious Man reasons, we can really only prove mettle to ourselves. Thus, the tragedy here is one of personal morality tarnished. ]


-