Dredd Film Review!

I'm not sure who was begging for a triumphant return of the Judge Dredd character to the silver screen, (And judging from the box office numbers, those crazy kids were too busy exerting justice elsewhere to fill those theater seats) but I'm kind of glad someone listened. Dredd is not particularly smart, nor subtle, nor even all that spectacular. It has a paper thin plot, little to no characterization, and plenty of your standard modern day action movie slow motion shooting sequences. Still, despite its shortcomings, Dredd is undeniably entertaining and ends up being perhaps the guiltiest guilty pleasure of 2012.

So, we're thrown into the mix of this dystopian future with a little exposition courtesy of your obligatory voiceover. We learn that crime has gotten so bad, that the duty of judge, jury, and executioner has been assigned to a law enforcement group known simply as 'Judges.' One of the most esteemed and all-around bad ass of this group is none other than Judge Dredd (Karl Urban) who is assigned to evaluate the latest recruit Judge Anderson. (Portrayed by the ever so lovely Olivia Thirlby) Long story short, they get caught in a lockdown of a large apartment complex run by the villainous Ma-Ma. (Lena Headey) They spend the majority of the movie getting caught up in all kinds of chaos and badass shootouts trying to escape the place. Like I said, simple stuff.

However, this simple stuff has quite a bit of flair to boot. The joy of this film comes in its execution. Pete Travis directs a script by Alex Garland (Of 28 Days Later screenwriting fame) as if it's the B-Movie to end all B-Movies and in some ways he succeeds. The action is top notch and thrilling and the violence is absolutely insane. Make no mistake, this is not fun for the whole family. (As some idiotic parents discovered after bringing in their five year old and removing her about half an hour into the movie) All of this would be for naught though if Karl Urban wasn't so bloody fantastic as the film's title character. Urban is slowly but surely moving through the ranks as one of the finest character actors of this generation and Dredd is no exception. He gets it. He gets the world; he gets the character and every single one-liner is delivered with nothing but purest, delectable perfection.

So, with Dredd we do not have the action movie to end all action movies. Its violence is a bit off-putting at times, but it's enough fun to be at least slightly worth your time. However, if you and your friends are drunk off your asses, you might end up being convinced that Dredd is the best picture of the year and who am I to judge you for that?


FINAL RATING: 3/5

Clips from Thomas Newman's Skyfall Score

So, we've got about four weeks until the release of the eagerly anticipated 23rd James Bond flick Skyfall. While I'm sure everyone out there is currently digging into the spectacular Bond 50 Blu-Ray boxset that was released on 9/25, clips from the Skyfall score composed by Thomas Newman have hit the interweb and they sound spectacular. This marks the first time since Tomorrow Never Dies that a composer other than David Arnold has taken the reigns for a Bond film's soundtrack. Newman is easily one of the finest composers of this day and age (His score for Road to Perdition still gives me shivers) and if these clips indicate anything, it's that we have an incredibly exciting music-listening experience to look forward to.

Check out the score snippets below and I've also included a link to Amazon.com to pre-order the soundtrack just because I love you so much. The Skyfall soundtrack is due for release on Nov. 6. Skyfall is set to release in the US of A on Friday, Nov. 9th.

Pre-Order link: http://www.amazon.com/Skyfall-Various-Artists/dp/B009FBX5M0/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1349805188&sr=8-1&keywords=skyfall+soundtrack

Cabin in the Woods Review!

In writing a review for the immensely entertaining and rather brilliant Cabin in the Woods, I'm presented with quite the dilemma - How do I critique and explain a film that plays better when the viewer knows less about its content? There are so many spectacular twists and turns here to the point where even mentioning what its main plot is could potentially qualify as a spoiler. Nevertheless, I will do my best to review the film regardless, so try and bear with me; this could be interesting.

With the aid of the wonderful Joss Whedon, writer/director Drew Goddard has crafted an endlessly creative thrill ride. It manages to pack great scares, laughs, and jaw-dropping action sequences into a well-paced and intelligently wrought 95 minutes. It's as much a loving tribute to horror films as it is a thoughtful dissection of the genre. It turns every possible cliche on its head, whilst simultaneously honoring nearly all the beats one comes to expect from a great scary movie, presenting them with a freshness that the genre is sorely lacking in this day and age. Every time you think you know where the movie is headed, it pulls the rug from under you and then points and laughs. It's got an excellent cast featuring the likes of the gorgeous Kristen Connolly as well as the God of Thunder himself Chris Hemsworth.

And, sadly, that's all I feel I can say about the film without beginning to delve into its ingenious plotline. So, with all that said, I'll end this review prematurely by saying Cabin in the Woods is easily one of the most enjoyable films of 2012 and quite very possibly one of the best. It's ceaseless entertainment from start to finish and what's not to love about that! Go see it if you know what's best for you and even if you don't know what's best for you, you should see it anyway.

Or I'll come find you.

FINAL RATING: 4.5/5

Janusz Kaminski

      Chances are if you’ve seen any of Steven Spielberg’s last few films then you’ve seen Janusz Kaminski’s work. He’s the Academy Award winning Director of Photography for films like “Schindler’s List” and “The Diving Bell & The Butterfly.” He’s fantastically talented and has produced a lot of inspired work over the years. More than likely you’ve got a great big boner for his work and think he’s just about the greatest thing to come along since Mumford & Sons and Urban Outfitters.

      I genuinely hate to rain on anybody’s boner parade but I’d like to prepare you for the fact that I’m about to step on your unwarranted Kaminski boner with my steel toed word boots.
It starts with this simple fact. You don’t know shit about cinematography. I’m sure there’s a moral highroad 3 miles back in a nice, silent little hamlet where everyone drives a Toyota Prius and the clergy even have a gay priest in one of their parishes and they would all be mortified at the precocity of my aggressive statement but I really don’t give a damn.
You think high contrast images with intense and improbable shadows are the work of a God. You think midday sun that shines with a more pigmented orange than an Oompa Loompa’s face is quite simply the most inspired piece of lighting in the last 25 years. I hope you have some napkins on hand if the man is bold enough to put a catch light in an actors eyes so you can see the deep brooding blue of his expressionless stare into oblivion, otherwise you’ve just spoiled that brand new pair of faded bootcut denims for no good reason.

      You have the aesthetic sensibilities of a raccoon pining for a piece of shiny scrap tin at the bottom of a hollowed out log. Your visual allegiance is dictated by the barometer of  academy awards season and you’ve all the artistic integrity of a pair of knock off thick frame Alan Ginsberg glasses.
He finished “Diving Bell & The Butterfly” and thought, “Eh, time for a break.” But the applause hasn’t stopped. What people are cheering for is the work of an over-funded, under-motivated, bored yet still talented director of photography.

“It was gorgeous.”
“It was beautiful.”
“It was amazing.”

      These adjectives are certainly positive but are they the appropriate ones for the story that was attempting to be told? The fact is that pretty pictures aren’t so difficult to create, but the appropriate images for the story and the proper visual language to set the necessary tones are. That’s something he hasn’t shown an ounce of interest in since 2007. The last time he gave a damn was a half-decade ago when people were just beginning to realize that Coldplay was the greatest thing ever. Now it’s 2012 and he’s shown absolutely no progression or interest in progression since then and people are finally realizing that Coldplay sucks.

      Munich wasn’t bad. Munich was pretty much par for the course and certainly showcased his vast expertise yet all of his films since have shared very similar visual motifs. High contrast film stocks with slightly overexposed negative that are then pulled down in processing to reduce grain then accented with DEEP shadows and smoke filled rooms and tangible shafts of light. His camera movement, when he works with Spielberg, is all dictated by Spielberg himself, beyond that it’s standard fare…..maybe even a bit below standard because they have been comedies; I can’t think of an easier way to collect a paycheck.

      Now with Lincoln set to come out mid-November it appears as though he hasn’t deviated from this course in the least little bit. Are the images bad? Certainly not, they are quite pretty from what the trailer indicates. It is, of course, just a trailer so it’s impossible to tell if he’s reckoned on the right tone or overall aesthetic for the film but a few things are almost certain. People will love it and praise it and make guttural noises when people mention it’s name, and it will get an Academy Award nomination.

      The same argument could be made for most other departments. Especially production design and costume design. Victorian films should always win because of how giant and beautiful and wonderful and intricate and detailed and rich and authentic and inspired and gorgeous and labor intensive they are by most peoples standards.
What is luxurious and excessive is not always appropriate. In America that doesn’t really concern us though. We have no concept of perspective and propriety with regard to supplemental material and departments in support of story. If any one element of the film speaks louder than the story itself then it has failed.

But nobody seems to get that.

      We just like pretty pictures that evoke surface emotions. We want the instant gratification that comes from being able to immediately identify something that looks good and to be able to feel the small, yet forgettable tingle that a pleasing picture has in the core of our stomachs. We can’t sit and wait and look for something more than that. And therein lies the appeal of Janusz Kaminski’s most recent work. It’s an episode of How I Met Your Mother, or a passage from a Tom Clancy novel. You don’t have to know anything to enjoy it……….and that’s exactly why you do.

The Master Review!

One enters into the world of Paul Thomas Anderson's imagination with the expectation of visual splendor and deeply thoughtful, albeit occasionally disturbed storylines. Over the years, he has proven a knack for taking on ambitious projects involving the nature of humanity and its struggles in powerful morality tales. He is a filmmaker in the purest sense. Now, two years after his potential masterpiece There Will Be Blood, P. T. Anderson presents us with the lengthy, ambitious, and somewhat frustrating doozy of a film The Master.

The Master has a simple story to tell, but the method of its telling is anything but simple. Joaquin Phoenix plays Freddie Quell, a veteran of WWII who is finding it difficult to adjust to the post-war world. He is prone to violence, heavy bouts of drinking, and has an unhealthy obsession with sex. He's a rather despicable character, indeed, but, as portrayed by Phoenix, he is also strangely sympathetic. After a bit of aimless wandering and violent shenanigans, Quell happens upon a cruise boat owned by none other than the prestigious entrepreneur Lancaster Dodd portrayed by the always fantastic Phillip Seymour Hoffman. Dodd is the founder of a mysterious movement simply known as The Cause. Through a procedure known as 'processing,' his movement seeks to cure every individual of any/all ailments whether they be physical or mental. Quell is easily seduced by Dodd's charm and personality and Dodd is blown away by Quell's drink-making abilities. He recruits Quell to his movement and the plot trickles off into all kinds of different directions as Quell continues to serve as Dodd's primary guinea pig for all of The Cause's experiments.

The film carries itself with an air so replete with importance that it's not too difficult to be utterly captivated by the unfolding events. However, much like Lancaster Dodd himself, it makes many arguments for its cause without providing much substance for them. The performances and visuals are so astonishing, in fact, that they can easily distract one from the fact that there's not a whole lot going on here. Though he may deny it in interviews, it's very clear that Anderson is trying to say something about the Scientology movement, but what exactly that something is is a bit muddled. We are presented with numerous scenes and conversations that address the disturbed nature of The Cause, but we are never given enough information about the movement to formulate an opinion of our own. We feel disturbed by the nature of Dodd's character, but we don't get a sense of the extent of his madness or what is driving him to pursue this movement so passionately. Quell, as portrayed by Phoenix, is always fascinating to watch, but one never truly connects to him as a character and there appears to be no purpose to his journey in the film. When everything is said and done, it becomes quite apparent that not a whole lot was said and done.

Nevertheless, The Master is a fascinating, maddening filmgoing experience and should not go unnoticed. Both Phoenix and Hoffman are stunning and utterly captivating in every way possible and carry the film from beginning to end and Anderson has a mastery of his craft that puts practically all others to shame. Expect to be intrigued, but don't be too shocked if you find yourself unmoved by the proceedings.

FINAL RATING: 3.5/5

Beasts of the Southern Wild

Beasts of the Southern Wild is quite an impressive feat in the way its miniscule budget (Reportedly just a tad bit less than $2 million) doesn't hold back its lofty ambitions from soaring to all kinds of creative heights. It is full of imaginative ideas and, visually, it is quite a thing of beauty. The story can best be describe as something of a modern fairy tale about a young girl named Hushpuppy who lives with her slightly aggressive, but loving father on a remote island simply known as 'The Bathtub.' They spend their carefree days shooting off fireworks, swapping stories with the other occupants of the Bathtub, and keeping something resembling a makeshift farm. Their precious little world is 'all-shook-up' when a vicious storm swoops in, flooding their village and leaving nearly every one of their homes underwater in addition to practically all their food. The explanation for this storm is that the polar ice caps are melting and the main plot dealing with Hushpuppy, her dad, and the other village occupants is intercut with footage of giant, long-lost beasts thawing out from the ice caps of the South Pole to come charging through the lands to, you know, do something. I'm sure there's some kind of brilliant symbolism on display here to justify this almost entirely pointless subplot, but I'm at a loss as to what it's supposed to mean. The storyline dips off into many different tangents, but doesn't offer a strong narrative to carry an audience through all these intriguing but insubstantial plot points.  I won't spoil the story here, but there's an overarching theme of 'Nature vs. Industry,' which feels tired and altogether uninformed. There's no justification for why these people are better off living the way they do other than a simplistic view of industry being 'evil' because factories look ugly.

The performances are decent enough. Quvenzhané Wallis as Hushpuppy is adorable and effective and Dwight Henry as her father Wink also gives a solid, energetic performance. Still, it's difficult to connect to either of their struggles when everything story/character-related seems to be going in so many different directions, none of which offer any satisfying conclusions. There just isn't nearly enough going on here to justify taking the journey. All it ends up amounting to is a semi-fascinating, semi-beautiful fever dream of a tale in which not much makes sense and not much of consequence happens.

Despite these flaws, however, Beasts of the Southern Wild is still worth seeing simply for its sheer ambition and its occasionally dazzling visual aesthetic. Just don't be surprised if you come away from the proceedings feeling rather indifferent about the whole thing.

FINAL RATING: 3/5

The Dark Knight Rises and My Dreams Come Crashing Down

***BUYER BEWARE: SPOILERS AWAIT YOU IN THE DEPTHS OF THIS RANTING, RAVING REVIEW OF THE DARK KNIGHT RISES***

Back in 2005, as the release of Christopher Nolan's Batman Begins was looming on the horizon, no one would have guessed that it would mark the start of one of the most profitable and critically acclaimed trilogies of all time. At the time, I was completely indifferent towards the character of Batman. Despite their popularity, Tim Burton's Batman flicks never did much for me. They always felt a bit too kooky; a bit too fascinated with the outlandish environments more so than telling an actual story or building any interesting characters. And, of course, Joel Schumacher's Batman travesties' reputations precede them, so I won't bother addressing those here. (Though I will mention that my least favorite of that initial four-film run is actually Burton's Batman Returns, which is obnoxiously ridiculous and just plain mean-spirited) I went into the midnight screening of Batman Begins with an open mind and little to no expectations. What I saw completely floored me. Here was a great film, passionately made, that told a superb story which focused more on developing its characters than fashioning mindblowing sets and special effects. (Though those were rather impressive too) Performances all around the board were spectacular with the likes of Christian Bale, Michael Caine, Gary Oldman, Morgan Freeman, and Liam Neeson grounding the proceedings with their impeccable talents. For the first time, I felt like I'd finally seen a genu-ine Batman movie and I discovered an affection for the character that I'd never had before. I delved into the great Batman stories such as Batman: Year One and The Dark Knight Returns and realized that it wasn't that I didn't like the character of Batman, but that his previous cinematic iterations were so poorly rendered that my reaction to them could only be that of indifference. I was eternally indebted to Mr. Nolan for helping me rediscover my love for the Caped Crusader.

Four years later Christopher Nolan and company subverted and surpassed all expectations of what a superhero film could be with The Dark Knight - A massive, sprawling epic that deepened the mythology of its characters while presenting some fascinating themes regarding the nature of anarchy, justice, chaos, and their relationships with one another. At the center of this masterpiece was an iconic, unforgettable performance from Heath Ledger as the legendary Joker. Ledger as the Joker was hypnotic; you simply couldn't take your eyes off him. He was a force of nature - Funny at times and always terrifying. With The Dark Knight, Nolan had raised the bar so high that even he wasn't sure if it could be topped. His reluctance to come back for a third flick was understandable. I mean, had there ever been a good third superhero movie? (Short Answer: Hell, no) But, when the rumors started rolling in about a third Batman with Nolan behind the camera for one final go-round, the excitement of movie fans everywhere peaked. If anyone could break the third superhero movie curse it would be Nolan and, not only could he break it, he could devastate it and raise the bar to the point where all other superhero flicks and blockbusters in general would live in the shadow of the Bat forever and ever amen.

It is with the greatest of displeasure that I stand before you now (Actually, I'm sitting, but that's besides the point) to tell you that not only does The Dark Knight Rises fail to meet high expectations, but that, when all the dust from its less than rousing climax settles, it's sadly clear that it's just not a very good movie. At all. In fact, it's downright awful at times, and this is the last thing I ever wanted to have to say or admit about this film.

When watching any film, there is always a moment where I expect the story to win me over - either that or the characters or the action or the visuals - Whatever it may be,  something about the film needs to grab my attention to give me a reason to stick with it 'til the end. About an hour and a half into The Dark Knight Rises not only did I not have that connection, but I found myself sitting in shock witnessing some of the most painfully contrived sequences of any film I'd ever seen hand in hand with painful dialogue and unmotivated character choices that were completely contrary to the source material as well as the world that Nolan had so carefully established in his first two Bat-Flicks.

At the film's start, we are introduced to a Bruce Wayne who has been moping around in his rebuilt mansion for eight years. (Was it eight? Was it nine? Does it matter?) He hasn't been fighting crime; he hasn't been keeping up appearances as a billionaire playboy. He's just been sitting around like a bum crying about his old girlfriend's tragic murder at the hands of the Joker. We're only twenty minutes into the movie and already something feels off. The character of Bruce Wayne/Batman that had been established in Nolan's previous films as well as the comics would not be driven to solitude by the death of a loved one. He would not simply give up his battle for justice because he's depressed. If anything, this would motivate him further in his never-ending battle against crime to ensure that what happened to his parents and his one true love never happens to anyone else again. Already, the character has been damaged beyond repair with this completely unmotivated direction and it only gets worse from there.

As the film goes on, logical character motivations and story choices collapse one by one in favor of a script that seems to serve no logical purpose but to jump from situation to situation - from locale to locale - with nary a connecting thread and no plot driving the events nor believable character development. In a plot move reminiscent of the beginning of Return of the Jedi, (Where the first 40 mins or so are spent wrapping up plotlines from the previous entry without actually moving the story forward) Bruce Wayne spends a large chunk of the film's running time completely separated from the main events of the story, having absolutely no effect on them whatsoever. Batman appears for a total of maybe 40 minutes in the whole two-hour and forty-five minute running time. Characters like Alfred and Lucius Fox, built up so well in the previous two films, are tossed aside for entirely superfluous reasons that feel nothing but phony. Michael Caine gives it his all and has a few genuinely moving moments, but is mostly absent from the proceedings here, opting to leave Bruce Wayne to his own devices in one of the movie's worst scenes. (Whatever happened to 'You still haven't given up on me?' 'Never.') Morgan Freeman's Lucius Fox also gets demoted to third-tier supporting character status, doing so little that one wonders why Nolan even bothered bringing him back. Even Gary Oldman's fantastic turn as Commissioner Gordon in the first two films gets completely shat on for this third outing. He's out of commission (Pun intended, now that I think about it) for half the film and when he finally gets the chance to do something, it's not much of anything. Is there anybody out there who can possibly explain to me how this can be considered good storytelling?

New characters, such as Selina Kyle/Catwoman (Adequately portrayed by Anne Hathaway) and Miranda Tate (A mostly anonymous performance by Marion Cotillard) serve practically no purpose and have no lasting effect on the overall story. A romantic subplot involving Miranda Tate and Bruce Wayne is painfully underdeveloped and a supposedly 'shocking' reveal about her character near the film's end feels so blatantly forced that it only comes across as laughable. I nearly forgot to mention Joseph Gordon-Levitt as Detective John Blake, another character who serves little to no purpose to the story other than to set up another painfully trite reveal near the movie's end that, like most of the film's choices, feels incredibly stupid. He also does his best with what little Nolan has provided him. The only beacon of hope in this complete mess is Tom Hardy's Bane. His voice reminded me a bit of General Grievous from Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, but Hardy makes it work and Bane is both threatening and slightly terrifying. A worthy foe for Batman. And, in line with the film's uncreative and disappointing nature, he meets a completely generic, bullshit demise completely unfitting for his character.

(As a side note, I'm not sure how he does it, but Nolan once again manages to fill the screen with some of the worst bit performances you will ever see in your entire life. Matthew Modine is the one that comes to the forefront of my mind, playing one of the most generic stereotypical cop characters you've already seen in a dozen action flicks)

I wish I could tell you that the action sequences make up for the illogical plot and lackluster character development, but even those are poorly executed, generic, and, perhaps worst of all for someone who has crafted three of the finest action films of all time, boring. It turns out that the 'epic' finale we were promised is nothing more than a series of uninspired fist fights and explosions. And, at the end of the day, what's Bane's grand scheme to destroy Gotham? A giant bomb. Yes, that's right. The genius, master director Christopher Nolan has resorted to a plotline that revolves around the most impersonal enemy a hero can ever face - Stopping a giant bomb from destroying a major city.

I hate everything.

Not a single action sequence carries a hint of inspiration. The only thing that comes close is a fight scene between Batman and Bane in the sewers beneath Gotham, but even that isn't quite as brutal as it should have been and you never quite feel Batman's struggle against the over-powering might of Bane. Nothing has any weight or consequence. Sure, Batman's back gets broken ala the classic Knightfall story from the comics, but, in what feels like a few weeks time, he's up and running again doing push-ups in the prison of standstill plotting. I'm not even sure if it was a few weeks, to be honest. The passage of time in this movie is so damn skewed that it's difficult to tell. Apparently by the time Batman returns to Gotham, five months have passed, but judging from the set decoration and the overall healthy state of the city's inhabitants, it might as well have been one or two days.

I take no delight in the disaster that is The Dark Knight Rises. I wanted it to be amazing and it had so much potential to be. It's stunning how horribly wrong every single facet of the film is. At the end of the day, the pointing finger of blame  can only be directed at one man and that is Christopher Nolan. Easily one of the best filmmakers of our generation, Nolan has never disappointed me before, but this is just plain lazy filmmaking. The script is dreadful and half-baked, which I never would have expected from such a master director. I'm not sure what horrible turn of fate caused Nolan to believe that this would be the best way to end such a well-made trilogy of films, but one thing is clear, this is not only the worst of Nolan's Bat-Movies; it is, without a doubt, Nolan's worst film to date.

I never thought the Dark Knight's rising would end up being so flaccid.

FINAL RATING: 2.5/5