On the Quality of Things, #20
Into the Sunset?

by Wade Stuckwisch
illustration by Jacob Chabot

Over the past couple of years, as I've gotten closer to establishing an actual career in the entertainment business, I've had to ask myself: is it a bright idea to continue publicly writing movie reviews? I have this reoccurring nightmare that I'm working on a film set, and from nowhere Ron Howard walks up and says, "Are you the kid on the internet that said I was a hack compared to Wes Anderson?" I nod sheepishly, and Ron turns his back on me with great implied significance as two thugs drag me off set, never to return. I mean, everyone I've worked with talks shit about some of the people they've worked for, but all of them had the decency to do it behind the back of whoever they were talking about, instead of doing it on the internet with their real actual name attached. Members of the industry generally respect the rights of movie critics to have their own opinions about their films, but what about that grip on your set that's lugging sandbags to weigh down your light stands? Does he get the same professional courtesy?

Another concern I've had is whether I am starting to gain access to material that people would rather not have me talk about publicly. For example, I recently got into a screening for the Director's Guild of America of an upcoming movie written by David Mamet, based on one of his plays. On the way out, I searched the lobby for any signs of a nondisclosure agreement, and found none, so I'm working under the assumption that it's okay to talk about the movie here. On the other hand, I assume that most DGA members have better things to do than post movie reviews on the internet. (From what I hear, most DGA members are lucky if they can find the time to sleep, bathe, or go to the hospital after suffering a stress-induced heart attack.) I'll assume it's kosher to talk about the film, especially since I enjoyed it - although I think I was one of the few people there willing to admit publicly that I enjoyed it. Edgy? You better believe it. There's blood, rape, murder, the N-bomb, Bai Ling not wearing a lot of clothes and all sorts of other things to make any genteel audience member squeamish. It's a real tour-de-force for William H. Macy, the star, and there's a lot of great talent backing him up. (Not everyone can get George Wendt, you know.) It definitely wasn't the sort of film that you would walk away from without an opinion about it. But would that opinion be suitable for publishing? The last thing I need right now is David Mamet hunting me down and cursing me out for talking about his unreleased movie. (He's very good at cursing, you know.)

On the other hand, I've always found that half the fun of going to the movies is the social aspect: discussing, reminiscing, and arguing about them after the final curtain has gone down and you're holed up in a bar somewhere downing pints of Newcastle and trying to forget the work week. It would be a shame to sacrifice that whole side of the movie-going experience just because of some paranoid fantasy that Brett Ratner will Google himself some day and say, "Hey, who is this little shit who gave a lackluster review to X3? Wait, wasn't that guy the third electric on the Ashlee Simpson video I just directed?"

But first, some movie reviews…

Superman Returns: There are two types of people in the world: those that divide groups of people into two types, and those who see this practice as grossly simplistic. Were I of the first type, I might try to claim that there are two types of superhero fans in the world, Superman people and Batman people. On one hand, you have Batman: The Dark Knight, the world's greatest detective, the regular guy with a chip on his shoulder (who also just so happens to be a millionaire) who learned kung-fu to kick the asses of wrongdoers and spends the rest of his time brooding in his cave. On the other hand, there's Superman: nobly born, rough childhood, basically able to do whatever the hell he wants but noble enough to only use his powers for good, who really just wants to fit in as a regular Joe and hook up with Lois Lane instead of spending the weekend sulking in his Fortress of Solitude. So: the frustrated, avenging badass who needs to get out more often, or the frustrated, self-sacrificing goody two-shoes who never gets laid? Personally, I kind of prefer Spider-Man, since he gets the best of both worlds-altruistic to compensate for past tragedies AND comes home to a smoking hot redhead every night. But I think there's a place for all three in the world. And then there's Lex Luthor. Here's a guy who's had to work hard his whole life to stay out of jail, who's probably one of the smartest cats out there, who constantly has to try to outsmart an invulnerable, omnipotent alien who's had everything handed to him and slides by on his magic powers and charm and good looks. [Editor's note - Superman's powers are not magical; in fact, magic is one of superman's few weaknesses... Oh crap, I better go back to my Fortress of Virginity...] And does it get him anywhere? Well, yes, I suppose he is a millionaire, but that's not my point. Never mind, back to the movie. In my opinion, Kevin Spacey and Parker Posey steal the show in "Superman Returns" as Lex and his moll, Kitty Kowalski. I mean, Superman is OK, and there's nothing wrong with Brandon Routh's portrayal of him, even if he is a little girlier than Christopher Reeve. And Kate Bosworth as Lois… well, I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. But Superman has it easy - everybody loves him just because he's strong and he can fly and he has a spiffy outfit. Being Lex Luthor - now therein lay a story!

There were at least three times in this movie where I really wanted to yell witty things at the screen, and held back because I felt that the audience I was with was a little too suburban to appreciate my commentary. But now that I have a non-captive audience, I'd like to share them with you. (Warning: Spoilers abound.)

     - When Superman is trying to stop the plan from crashing into the baseball stadium: "It's a bird! It's a plane! OH SHIT, IT REALLY IS A PLANE!"
     - When Jason (Lois's kid) throws the piano at the bad guy with the clown tattoo: "Damn, Lois Lane! YOU FUCKED SUPERMAN!"
     - When Superman flies off after his touching conversation with Lois at the end of the movie: "Hey Superman! When am I gonna see some child support?"

So as you can see, I'm not actually nearly as funny as I think I am. But "Superman Returns" was pretty decent, despite what the fat balding guy in the theater said loudly as he was walking out about it being "worse than the Richard Pryor one." I don't know what his problem was, outside of being a fat, loud, balding nerd.

A Scanner Darkly: I haven't read the book, but I did leave the theater thinking, "I bet the Philip K. Dick book this is based on is really cool." I not sure if Dick's rambling plots and final chapter twist endings translate so well to cinema. The combined efforts of Robert Downey, Jr. and Woody Harrelson do make "A Scanner Darkly" a decently funny middle-aged high-minded stoner comedy. On the other hand, the potential of the hyper-paranoid world where a drug-addicted narcotics agent winds up covertly spying on himself is never fully realized. Several people I saw the movie with argued about whether the rotoscope-style animation did anything for the film. Personally I didn't think it took anything away from the film, so hey, why not do it? If Hollywood plans to continue exploiting the Dick legacy, I hope someone else figures out how to do it as lyrically as "Blade Runner" rather than as barely adequately as "A Scanner Darkly."

The Proposition: Nick Cave wrote a movie? Seriously? And I can see it in theaters? Nice! Lots of people warned me about how violent this film is, which resulted in me feeling that it wasn't nearly as violent as everyone said it was. It's definitely not going to be distributed by Australia's tourism board any time soon. "Come to Australia - A Blazing Hot Desert of Filth, Desperation and Imperialist Genocide!" It's an interesting little film, what with all its dirt and sun and grittiness. And the cinematography is downright stunning. So if you walk into a video store some time soon thinking, "I haven't seen nearly enough historical atrocities and base human behavior on film lately," then I highly recommend "The Proposition." Enjoy!

Clerks II: If you've ever read this column, you probably know that I worship the ground Kevin Smith walks on. Yes, some could say that he's never made a movie that tops the original "Clerks." But come on, with its unprecedented commercial success and cult status, "Clerks" is a phenomenon not to be matched. How about sequelled, then? Arguably, considering the intertwining characters and histories shared by his films, half the movies Smith has made could already be viewed as follow-up to "Clerks." So are there any great existential quandaries left to be explored in the workplace pairing of Dante Hicks and Randall Graves? Yes and no. The pranks and pop culture musings of the original "Clerks" have lost some of their absurdist punch, but "Clerks II" does present an honest, heartfelt story about the nature and limits of love and friendship. And if that sounds a little too man-on-man touchy-feely for your tastes, there are also plenty of dirty jokes to make you laugh and/or squirm. I guarantee that you will leave the theater debating the specifics of "going ass to mouth." (Oral-anal sex, or oral sex immediately following anal sex? You decide!) My only question for the makers of "Clerks II" (besides the ass-to-mouth question) is, while I admire your efforts to keep Jay Mewes occupied and off heroin, will this film finally allow you to close the book on the View Askew-niverse for a while and explore new stories again? "Jersey Girl" wasn't a good movie, but everyone makes mistakes. I mean, have you seen half of Clint Eastwood's movies? "Blood Work"? "Space Cowboys"? And the guy has two Oscars! C'mon, Kevin, the choice is yours, but I think it's time to give Jay and Silent Bob a short rest.

Little Miss Sunshine: Once you've seen this movie, picture it, if you will, as a zany "Flirting With Disaster" style comedy with bizarre off-the-wall characters drawn much bigger than real life. Sounds awful, doesn't it? That's probably the most refreshing thing about "Little Miss Sunshine" - even though Granddad is snorting heroin and big brother has taken a vow of silence to honor Nietschze, the family in the film still feels like a real family. We sympathize with their plight instead of just laughing at their wacky antics, because we recognize their quirks as being those of a loving family striving to keep together despite their differences. "Little Miss Sunshine" is a much better finger in the face of suburban America than any broad, obvious satire could ever be, because it allows the desperation of our shallow materialism to look foolish on its own, instead of trying to draw a mocking portrait of it. A wonderful comedy, don't miss it.

Snakes On A Plane: You asked for it, they changed it, and the motherfucker is pretty entertaining. What is there to say about this movie that the title and nerds on the internet haven't said already? It's nice to hear about an actor stepping in and saving a movie instead of ruining it just to placate their own monstrous ego. Odds are that, if you read this column regularly, you will enjoy "Snakes On A Plane." Why? Because you obviously spend way too much time on the internet, that's why.

Factotum: Like Philip K. Dick, Charles Bukowski seems like the type of writer whose work would not necessarily translate well to film. So much of his literature is about the grind and monotony of a man's need to survive, and Bukowski's personal search for refuge among so much refuse. Superficially, that doesn't seem like the most cinematic of material. So yeah, "Factotum" is pretty slow, but that's by necessity. Matt Dillon and Lily Taylor probably do the best job of bringing Bukowski's characters to life that I've seen - maybe better than anyone else could. The contrast between Dillon's understated Henry Chinaski and Mickey Rourke's cartoonish portrayal in "Barfly" are like two sides to an argument that has yet to be resolved, but I think Dillon gets closer to capturing Bukowski's spirit, even if the fictional Chinaski's remains elusive. I think the one thing "Factotum" may have lacked is the undercurrent of violence that fuels Bukowski's struggle to survive, something that "Barfly" got a little closer to. But I look forward to the next attempt someone makes to bring Hank to the big screen - say, maybe like a hungry young director straight out of film school who writes movie reviews on the internet. Hey Black Sparrow, call me! My contact info is on IMDB!

The Protector: This could be, from a technical perspective, the worst made movie that I've ever seen in an American theater. At least "Clerks" and "The Blair Witch Project" had some story continuity. But there's just too much to love in this movie to fault it for looking like it was hacked together by some video store owner who found the pieces on the floor in his break room. First, the motivating event that leads Tony Jaa to break the limbs of many a bad person in this movie is that they stole his elephant. Straight up jacked TWO of the motherfuckers right from under his nose. Nothing beats seeing an angry, muscular sweaty man with a visage of rage walk into a room filled with bad guys who look like they were extras in the first Ninja Turtles movie and scream, in Thai, "Where's my elephant?" Other treats: Tony Jaa fights a bunch of hoods on roller blades wielding fluorescent light tubes (the hoods, not Tony Jaa). Tony Jaa fights the first guy to ever make capoeira look dangerous. Tony Jaa fights a gang of like fifty guys and shows the world fifty different ways to break a man's limbs. And then he kicks… and the helicopter… Aw man! You get the idea: it's not Shakespeare, but it is a lot of amazing down-and-dirty martial arts action. And the dude is out to save his elephant. Go see it! HE'S OUT TO SAVE HIS ELEPHANT!

Hollywoodland: This movie, on the other hand, could have used a lot more elephants and flying knee smashes to the face. A middling Hollywood actor, played by Ben Affleck, apparently commits suicide, and a cynical private detective, played by Adrien Brody, tries to find out if he pulled the trigger himself or if he was murdered. Big fucking deal. We've got a guy with big dreams who isn't as successful as he wants to be, and a guy with no dreams who isn't successful at all. All this set against the flash of a vaguely corrupt Tinseltown. Some advice for all the characters in this movie: get out of LA, go some place with trees and cows and make some decent lives for yourselves. Until someone convinces me that the characters in "Hollywoodland" aren't just making themselves miserable, I refuse to care.

Renaissance: I suppose it would be irresponsible to review a movie that I slept through 68% of (not that it would be the first time). Come to think of it, that is pretty irresponsible. Okay, forget it, not gonna review "Renaissance." I will say that the animation looked kinda cool. To summarize, this movie needed more hot coffee.

Fearless: You know, in all of his American movies, I don't think I've ever seen Jet Li smile. What's up with that? The ear to ear grin he displays while playing with his young daughter in "Fearless" is a wonderful shift from the grim warrior that tends to dominate the films about great warriors that we see in America. How come these sword-wielding champions of strife are never happy? In "Fearless," Jet Li is a fighting champion who learns the virtues of when and how to fight. It's a fun movie with lots of great Jet Li fighting action that should teach you the pitfalls of buying too many free drinks for people, and make you feel proud to be Chinese. If Jet Li sticks to his supposed promise to not do any more martial arts epics, we're all gonna miss him. "Fearless" lacks the depth and drama of a "Hero" or "Crouching Tiger," but it's a perfect popcorn-muncher. Bring the kids!

American Hardcore: There's one great reason to see "American Hardcore" in the theater instead of at home on DVD: no volume control. This movie is - as it should be - LOUD. It's probably not as loud as an actual Black Flag or Minor Threat show was, but it still gives you a little taste of what the assault on your ear drums must have been like while getting pounded by angry skinheads at an SS Decontrol show back in the day. Considering the relatively narrow influence and popularity that the American hardcore scene, as presented in this movie, has wielded over the years, the thoroughness and detail of "American Hardcore" is inspiring. Seriously, above and beyond The Bad Brains, Black Flag and Minor Threat, who listens to any of these bands today? In a way, though, the specificity is part of the beauty of this film - three members of Bad Religion give interviews for this film, but no one ever talks about Bad Religion, despite their immense popularity, because they were never a part of the hardcore scene. Likewise, no one mentions that Sonic Youth got their start on Greg Ginn's SST Records, or that Ian MacKaye went on to start Fugazi, or that Stone Temple Pilots (retch) allegedly met at a Black Flag show. As this movie presents it, one would think that the hardcore scene was merely a scattered collection of antisocial miscreants spread across urban centers throughout the United States who got together, hated Reagan, made a lot of loud noise, and then moved on with their lives, influencing no one. The central message of "punk is dead, you can't resurrect it, get over it" is a powerful statement in our modern consumer society of kitch, sampling and manufactured nostalgia. And it's very satisfying to see that a good portion of the angry, socially awkward misfits that started hardcore punk have matured in to angry social misfit adults. There's no way to resurrect the hardcore scene of 1981 (and who would want to live through the Reagan administration again, anyway?) but there's a lot to be learned from triumphs, miscues and injuries of the people who were actually there. My only complaint: why so little of bands like Husker Du and The Minutemen? Is it just because they don't sound like MDC and the Cro-Mags, or am I missing something more significant?

Thus ends this month's selection of movie reviews. I'd write more, but I don't want to say anything critical about "The Last King of Scotland" while I'm still temping at Fox. The hand that feeds is always a friend indeed. See ya again real soon…

Editor's note: The William H. Macy film mentioned in this column, "Edmond," is now out on DVD, so Wade's fears of recrimination are probably unfounded.

-Published on The Great Hoboes of New York on November 19, 2006.