The End of the Tour

Back in good ol’ 1996, the year that gave us such cinematic masterpieces as Fargo, Trainspotting, and the greatest disaster movie of all time Independence Day, a little diddy called 'Infinite Jest' was unleashed on the world. Its author David Foster Wallace had prior to its release achieved moderate success with his first novel 'The Broom of the System' and a number of essays, but the publication of 'Infinite Jest' hurled him into the annals of writer superstardom. In a 2004 retrospective review, writer Chad Harbach declared 'Infinite Jest' “the central American novel of the past thirty years, a dense star for lesser work to orbit” and Time included the novel in its list of the 100 Best English-language Novels since 1923.

Despite Wallace’s general disdain of being considered a ‘celebrity,’ he agreed to an interview with writer/journalist David Lipsky for a Rolling Stone article. Lipsky joined Wallace for a five-day stint near the end of the Infinite Jest book tour, tape recording their many conversations. Although the interviewer/subject barrier was never fully breached, largely due to Wallace’s full awareness that Lipsky’s ultimate job was to get some dirt on the author in order to craft a stellar article, the two of them ended up developing something of a mutual respect for one another and even something resembling a friendship. It was kind of an older brother/younger brother dynamic in a way with Wallace functioning as the older on one end of the success spectrum and Lipsky representing the younger brother striving for the approval of his ‘better.’ The article never got published as it was deemed not sensational enough for Rolling Stone’s readers, but Lipsky ended up transcribing their conversations and releasing them in book form under the title ‘Although Of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself,’ released two years after Wallace's suicide in 2008.

The relationship between the two writers forms the basis of James Ponsoldt’s latest film The End of the Tour, a deeply affecting and ofttimes hilarious examination of two writers coping with their varying degrees of success. It’s essentially a bromance tale minus whatever negative connotations the term ‘bromance’ evokes. It is a beautiful film and works on nearly every level, partially because it doesn’t require you to be a Wallace-devotee in order to fully enjoy the experience. I haven’t even read 'Infinite Jest' (I’m sure I’ll get around to it someday), but this never held me back from being totally invested in the fascinating relationship between these two prolific writers. The film is essentially one long conversation after another. It’s actually very reminiscent of Richard Linklater’s talky Before Sunrise Trilogy, and it’s to the credit of playwright Donald Margulies who penned the screenplay and the performances of Jason Segel and Jesse Eisenberg that the conversations flow so naturally and never once come across as dull.

And speaking of performances, can we take a moment to call these sexy guys out? I’ve always been a big fan of Segel’s ever since his work on Freaks & Geeks and this may be the best thing he’s done since the show was cancelled. That’s not a knock against his body of work; Forgetting Sarah Marshall and The Muppets are exceptional films, but his performance as David Foster Wallace shows just how much he’s matured as an actor and I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if it ends up earning him his first Oscar nod.

Likewise, Eisenberg continues to prove himself as one of our finest young actors. I know the guy’s got his haters due to his eccentric awkwardness, but over the course of his career he has compiled a wide variety of work, consistently giving some really solid performances. Watching him and Segel bounce off each other (conversationally, not physically, though I’m sure if the entire movie was just the two of them literally bouncing off each other it would still be fantastic) is one of the more enjoyable experiences I’ve had in a movie theater this year. Their chemistry is impeccable and I love the way they play the relationship - often respectful and amicable, but occasionally their egos get in the way. Wallace and Lipsky clearly admired each other, but that admiration never once got in the way of them calling each other out on their respective B.S. Some of the film's most powerful moments come from the two butting heads and Segel and Eisenberg really excel in these scenes.

I was a fan of director Ponsoldt’s last film The Spectacular Now, but felt it relished a bit too much in its own depression, never quite striking the right balance between telling a story and being an anti-alcohol campaign. Here, he finds exactly the right balance and tone for the subject matter, allowing the naturalism of the dialogue and the performances to shine through all whilst crafting some truly beautiful imagery with the assistance of Jakob Ihre’s cinematography. I also appreciated that he and Marguilies never tried to unnaturally foreshadow the tragedy of Wallace’s ultimate fate or milk some superficial pathos from it. His focus is solely on the story being told and the relationship between Wallace and Lipsky and that focus makes the film all the more powerful.

The End of the Tour is Ponsoldt’s best work yet and one of the best films of the year. Regardless of whether or not you’re a fan of David Foster Wallace, you owe it to yourself to see this one. You just might learn something about everything.

FINAL RATING: 5/5

Fantastic Four Made Me Feel a Little Less Alive and Very Sleepy

In my experience, there are two kinds of Bad Movies. First is the kind so atrocious, so unbelievably awful, that it ascends simple ‘badness’ to become something more, something so bad it’s good (i.e. The Room, Miami Connection, Rocky IV, The Happening, etc.). Then there are movies that are just so painful it’s difficult to derive any enjoyment whatsoever out of watching them (i.e. The Star Wars Prequels, The Godfather Part III, X-Men 3, Die Another Day, Rocky V, The Last Airbender, etc.). Until this past week I hadn’t even considered the possibility of another, but the newest Fantastic Four has blown my mind wide open, introducing me to a whole new category of bad movie: the kind that makes you feel like you haven’t even watched a movie but witnessed some kind of amorphous black hole designed to drain any sense of joy or love from every fiber of your being. It’s not so bad it’s good; it’s so bad I’m surprised it was released at all. It’s something of an anti-movie. Even Roger Corman’s unreleased disaster-fest is a better storytelling venture and I never thought I would ever use that travesty as the prime example of any aspect of filmmaking.

Fantastic Four (or Fant4stic as the marketing campaign had dubbed it before the onslaught of furious fans forced them to get rid of the tacky ‘4 as an A’ idea) is the latest failed attempt to revitalize Marvel’s 1st family, this time in the vein of the ‘gritty reboot’ aesthetic that never actually works unless it’s made by Christopher Nolan. (See The Amazing Spider-Man and Man of Steel for further details) Why 20th Century Fox and director Josh Trank decided to go in this direction, aside from the money signs generated from Nolan’s Dark Knight Trilogy, is beyond me, especially when you consider that the Fantastic Four are essentially the Brady Bunch with superpowers. I mean, come on, we’ve got a character called Mr. Fantastic whose main superpower is the ability to stretch and the Human Torch who shouts, “Flame On!” as he bursts into flames and you expect us to take this seriously? This comic book is so inherently absurd that all you can do is embrace that absurdity and use it to your advantage. Even Tim Story’s god-awful Fantastic Four films got that aspect of the characters right. (Again, I can’t believe I’m using such terrible films as an example of how to do something right in a movie.) Fant4stic seems embarrassed by every aspect of its source material, doing its utmost to distance itself from it as much as possible, often to its detriment.

Things start off promisingly enough with a flashback that introduces us to a young Reed Richards and Ben Grimm and shows how they became friends. We flash forward a few years (only the first of many lazy flash forward moments – at least they kept that element from Corman’s catastrophe) to find Reed and Ben all grown up and looking an awful lot like Miles Teller and Jamie Bell. With Ben’s help, although it’s never clearly stated how exactly he helps since he’s not a scientist by any stretch, Reed has finally ‘perfected’ the transportation device he’s been working on ever since he was a kid. He catches the eye of Dr. Franklin Storm (Reg E. Cathey) who apparently frequents high school science fairs on the regular in the hopes that he might recruit budding new talent. Dr. Storm is attempting to make a breakthrough in teleportation in order to transport a team of scientists to an alternate dimension in the hopes of finding new resources to sustain human life. Reed seems to have cracked the code, so Dr. Storm jumps at the opportunity to recruit them. Well, maybe ‘jumps’ isn’t the right word for it; Cathey’s performance is so monotone that his excitement is more akin to being slightly sleepy as opposed to totally sleepwalking.

The first act of the film, in which Reed is introduced to Sue and Victor Von Doom and Johnny, is the only functioning act of the entire endeavor. Note, I said ‘functioning,’ not ‘successful,’ because it feels like the act is just barely working. Still, it does a decent job getting all the pieces in the right place and setting up the following acts.

If only there were any following acts.

It takes roughly 40 minutes or so before any superpowers are gained and as soon as they are the film throws up a ‘1 Year Later’ title card, which for some reason they thought would adequately take the place of an entire 2nd Act, no joke. Some military doofus gives some kind of Powerpoint presentation to show how the team has developed their powers and learnt to control them.  What follows is a jumbled mess of an attempt to create some kind of story from this shapeless mass of plotting and an inexplicable lead-in to a third act climax that is so rushed and underwhelming it would be hilarious if it wasn’t so pathetic. (My friend and I actually turned to each other and said, “Is this…supposed to be the final fight?”) The story is so uninvolving and so jumbled that at a certain point it was more entertaining keeping track of Kate Mara's awful wig than it was paying attention to the actual movie.

Is it really this hard to make a decent Fantastic Four film? We’ve already gotten four (how ironic) and not a single one has been good. Brad Bird has already proven the formula works with his animated masterpiece The Incredibles, so what gives, people?? And, unlike 99% of the nerd community, I actually had high hopes for this one. I loved Josh Trank’s first film Chronicle, a fresh, entertaining take on the superhero origin story, and was excited to see what he could bring to the table with a larger budget. While we might not know the full extent of the drama that happened between 20th Century Fox and Trank behind the scenes, one thing is for certain: someone done effed up. Big time. Not even in the film’s most inspired moments (and I’d hate to use the word ‘inspired’ when it comes to anything to do with Fant4stic) does Trank’s direction seem anything but lifeless. The majority of the film takes place in two locations, an underground warehouse and the giant green screen the cast stood on in order to film the alternate dimension sequences. It’s claustrophobic in the worst way and the drab production design and overwhelmingly grey color scheme is mind-numbing.

Likewise, it’s painful to watch such a talented young cast have to make their way through this drudgery. Miles Teller in particular gives it his best go before giving up about halfway through. The rest of this doomed ensemble, which includes Kate Mara as a muted Sue Storm, a barely-present Jamie Bell as Ben Grimm/The Thing, a brooding Toby Kebbell as Victor Von Doom, and a robotic Reg E. Cathey as Dr. Franlkin Storm, doesn’t even bother trying, having even less to work with.

By the time Fant4stic’s eternal 100-minute runtime had concluded, I was desperate to get out into the bright summer sunshine and do anything to remind me that I was indeed a human being and capable of emotion and joy. Calling it a mess is giving it too much credit. I can’t remember the last time a movie made me feel so utterly bereft of anything. One can only hope that the sting of this immense failure will contribute to the rights returning to Marvel Studios. Perhaps then the Fantastic Four will finally get their due. And some actual color. Please, just, for the love of God, give me ANY color.

FINAL RATING: 1/5

Paper Towns May Be Paper-Thin, But It's Still Sweet

Ah, young love - the perfect fodder for a Young Adult novel, and no author in this day and age may have cracked the genre’s formula better than John Green. Unlike a large number of his peers, the guy is actually pretty talented and comes across as a genuine, caring individual (at least through his various social media avenues). While he experienced modest success with his first few novels, he was catapulted to the level of ‘Superstar Author’ with the release of 2012’s ‘The Fault in Our Stars, which received critical acclaim and debuted at #1 on The New York Times Best Seller list for Children’s Chapter Books. The film adaptation raked in crazy big bucks so it’s only natural that other adaptations of his works would follow, hence 2015’s Paper Towns.

I have to admit something right off the bat: I haven’t actually read a single one of Mr. Green’s novels. My introduction to his work was through the 2014 film adaptation of ‘The Fault in Our Stars,’ which, despite some saccharine elements, surprised me with its pleasant earnestness and humor, not to mention the knockout performances of its two leads. I approached Paper Towns with the same amount of ignorance and zero expectations and once again came away moderately impressed, though not nearly to the extent I had been with The Fault in Our Stars. Paper Towns features a similar brand of the charm that made The Fault in Our Stars such a memorable and moving experience. What makes it inferior to its predecessor is that it never manages to connect on a deeper level beyond the surface due to a lack of well-drawn characters and a primary romance that just doesn’t work.

Right from the get-go we’re in familiar territory with an opening narration courtesy of our main protagonist Quentin Jacobsen (Nat Wolff). The narration is standard fare from screenwriting pair Scott Neustadter and Michael H. Weber, who can, at this point in their careers, adapt Young Adult novels in their sleep. Quentin takes us through a brief recounting of his relationship with Margo Spiegelman (Cara Delevingne), the girl who moved into the house across the street from him when they were kids and whom he’s been in love with ever since. Even at a young age, Margo exhibited a devil-may-care attitude, seeking out adventure at every opportunity. Quentin was more cautious, opting to play it safe. He’s totally enraptured by the allure of Margo and it carries into their high school years, even as they drifted apart to the point of not even speaking to one another.

But all of that changes one night when Margo shows up at Quentin’s bedroom window to recruit him as her getaway driver for a revenge vendetta. She’s just discovered her boyfriend has been cheating on her and a number of their mutual friends knew about it. She plans to get a little payback by pranking them all in the course of an evening, everything from catching her now ex-boyfriend in the act of cheating to saran wrapping another ‘friend’s’ car.  Quentin, although reluctant to join her quest at first, can’t resist her charms and agrees to tag along. The night ends up going down in history as one of the greatest of his life as it provides him ample opportunity to stare longingly at Margo while they drive around Orlando, Florida, blaring your obligatory repertoire of indie-rock tunes, standard for any film of this genre. When the experience comes to an end, Quentin feels like things will finally be different between the two of them, but when he heads to school the next day Margo is nowhere to be found. Turns out she’s skipped town and after discovering a couple of clues she’s left for him, Quentin is determined to solve the mystery of her whereabouts and prove his undying love and affection for her.

The film version of Paper Towns has a decent amount of things working in its favor. The performances are mostly on-point, particularly from Nat Wolff and the two lads cast as his best friends, Austin Abrams and Justice Smith. When these three boys are on screen together, everything works. They expertly capture the dynamics of a high school friendship in its twilight years. Their scenes work so well, in fact, that the film ends up functioning better when it focuses on them as opposed to the shallow romance, which is supposed to be the main point of the entire story. The script never seems to know which plotline it should give focus to and this is at the primary reason of why Paper Towns doesn’t fully work.

That and its subpar romance.

I’ll just be blunt: the core relationship that drives the mystery of the film’s entire plot simply isn’t that interesting. This is largely due to the fact that Quentin and Margo never come across as fully formed characters and neither the screenwriters nor the director give us much of a reason to buy into the idea that Quentin would abandon all logic and reason for this girl. That goes double for Margo herself, who isn’t nearly as alluring as the film seems to think she is or even all that likable. Delevingne does what she can with the material, but she just comes across as bored. It’s a shame the filmmakers never see fit to develop her character beyond her physical appearance or literary and musical tastes. (From what I can gather from those who have read the book, the source material contained the same issues.)

Despite its paper-thin premise and characters, Paper Towns managed to hold my attention and keep me entertained, if not necessarily involved, thanks to its performances and Jake Schreier’s upbeat direction. It’s not a waste of time by any stretch and fans of John Green’s work will probably go ga-ga for it. It’s just a shame that its main plot and lackluster romance aren’t given the same amount of development as the subplot that examines the bittersweet pangs of leaving high school friends behind.

FINAL RATING: 3/5