157 - Smokin' Aces review

It’s appropriate that “Smokin’ Aces” worst subpolot involves a hyperactive, goofy kid who hasn’t taken his ritalin. The whole film sort of plays that way; a mishmash of shifting topics and tempo that could give anyone not prepared a severe headache.

The splattery, profane mania is hardly original, as anyone who hasn’t already forgotten last years “Running Scared” or 2005’s “Domino” can attest. But writer/director Joe Carnahan somehow makes it seem fresh, as if the self-congratulatory, quirky dialogue and shock-value laced noise constitute something we haven’t already experienced (or avoided) many times over.

The canvas for the mayhem is simple enough before the plot twists complicate it. Jeremy Piven plays Buddy “Aces” Israel, a sleazy Las Vegas magician holed up in a hooker-laden hotel suite while waiting to testify against the mob. When a million-dollar contract is taken out on his heart (specifically his heart), a screwy assortment of lawmen, hitmen, bondsmen and hotel men converge on the same location, chaos bound to ensue. Agents Messner (Ryan Reynolds) and Carruthers (Ray Liotta) are the FBI men charged with protecting Israel from the disguise experts, torture nuts, lesbian snipers, and psychotic Nazis that have arrived to make a fortune from offing the magician.

A massive, star-filled cast brings the 30 or so characters to life. The roster includes Ben Affleck, Jason Bateman, Matthew Fox, Andy Garcia, and Alicia Keys, just to name the more recognizable ones. Most of them are colorfully slaughtered in massive shootout we know to be coming by watching the trailer. It’s a very cool, visually complex battle, with several dozen people trading gunfire and chainsaw swings across two buildings and several floors. Unfortunately, though the last shot gets fired too soon, a bit of a letdown considering the wait.

Though Carnahan more or less denies any Quentin Tarantino influence, the notes are familiar, such as when characters have rapid-fire discussions about prostitutes or Clinton-esque jacket stains. Unlike a Tarantino film (“Pulp Fiction” most obviously), the conversations and outlandish characterizations never click together, instead existing in their own space without significantly contributing to mood or theme. “Smokin Aces” winds up resembling a bunch of good short films combined with a couple of bad ones to create one okay feature length picture. A few of the subplots should have been scrapped altogether, adding nothing but filler. By the time we arrive at the curiously somber ending, it has alternated between taking itself too seriously and not seriously enough. And with roughly ten minutes dedicated to each character, how does Carnahan expect us to care when he decides to cue the sad music?

Nonetheless, I kind of liked it. Carnahan is definitely a very talented filmmakers, or else this screenplay factory explosion would be unwatchable. Even with a running time of 108 minutes, it feels like 90, and never gets boring until the finale’s lengthy plot exposition. The lack of focus is crippling, though. I couldn’t tell what Carnahan was shooting for, and I suspect that he doesn’t know either. But I sort of like where he’s heading.

2.5 out of 5

156 - Notes on a Scandal review

Over the past few years, there have been an increasing number of news stories concerned with female teachers having illicit relationships with their students. The stories are sensationalistic in their presentation, worthless when compared to serious world news, and often accompanied by ridiculous analysis, with the double standard of it being more acceptable for an older woman to commit statutory rape on a young man than the reverse frequently rocking the issue.

“Notes on a Scandal” is a film about a high school teacher who begins a sexual relationship with a student but doesn’t treat the scenario as a lewd joke. In fact, the presentation of the twisted affair occasionally treats the legality like a footnote – the moral consequences of infidelity as or more important than a discrepancy in age.

Cate Blanchett plays Sheba Hart, the new art teacher at a London high school. She’s a flighty, often naïve woman, feeling entitled to an immoral act or two thanks to an unhappy marriage to her husband Richard (Bill Nighy) and the stress of taking care of her mentally disabled son. Sheba becomes fixated on Steven (Andrew Simpson), a 15-year-old student who supplies her with the right excuses to do the wrong thing. Their meeting places are about as glamorous as they deserve to be; classrooms, train yards, and alleyways become their motel room.

But the security of her adultery is compromised as Barbara Covett (Judi Dench), a fellow teacher, catches Sheba and Steven in the act. Barbara, a closet lesbian with the mindset that forbids self-acknowledgement of homosexual desires, has already latched onto Sheba. The discovery of Sheba’s paramour gives Barbara the leverage she wants; lord the knowledge of the affair over Sheba’s head, receive all the attention she desires.

“Notes on a Scandal” becomes a psychological thriller of an unusual kind. It’s interesting, fairly realistic, and for the most part avoids the contrived developments that tempt thriller writers everywhere. Dench earns her Oscar nomination, painting shades of gray that makes choosing sides difficult, if not impossible. Is Barbara crazy or cunning, evil or simply lonely?

Similar ambiguity applies to Blanchett’s portrayal of Sheba; has her ethical and moral transgression earned her this one-sided, suffocating frenemy? True, Steven was the one who pursued her, but as a boy half her age, it’s impossible to attribute the aftermath to him. We can all likely agree that Sheba deserves punishment, but is blackmail at Barbara’s hands enough? The best insight of “Notes on a Scandal” is that social isolation plays a key role in the rotten behavior of both women.

The film’s pacing is brisk, and the ending arrives almost too quickly to check your cell phone clock. But as I left, I was puzzled by how clean, even sterile, it all was. It breaches fascinating issues but seems concerned with dirtying itself by an embrace of the material. Even Barbara, the narrator and sole character whose mind we have direct access to, is so aloof that she can’t admit her own infatuation with Sheba. The aforementioned news stories about these torrid happenings may be nearly worthless, but they certainly capture the public’s imagination. It’s almost scandolous that the filmmakers couldn’t have gone further with the juiciness of the material, though a well-crafted and entertaining thriller is nothing to give a bad report about.

3 out of 5

155

Out of all of my regular readers, perhaps two or three don't inhabit the left side of the American political spectrum. For my Democrat friends and detractors, I have a serious question that I by no means intend to turn into a debate:

What the hell is so special about Barack Obama? As far as I can tell, he's just a stuffy dickhole who gives a bunch of pretentious, phony speeches that elicit rapturous applause from the goons in his audience. Why should I or anyone ever consider voting for him? Real answers, please, none of the hollow campaign crap that is spewn fourth from virtually every contender.

Right now, it's looking like I'll be voting Libertarian in 2008. None of the Republicans impress me, and the only Democrat I like has no chance of winning. I even met Mitt Romney and was seriously unimpressed, instead, I was only depressed.

154

So apparently whenever the rules against torture are broken by members of the U.S. military, it's not the commander's fault, or even that of the people doing the torture; it's 24's fault! Yes, a TV show is to blame for any human rights abuses that occur from now on.

Really, if it has come to the point where a general has to resort to blaming 24 for the military's problems, no wonder we can't win this fucking war. God forbid the United States face a real conflict in the future, because I'm starting to believe that we couldn't take over Canada, much less defeat a real enemy like the Chinese or the Russians. These days, the U.S. military seems to have honed its skills down to butchering large numbers of people at a distance, and little else. You know, one of the reasons people enjoy 24 so much is that we can fantasize that the people protecing us are dedicated, fierce, and will stop at nothing to ensure the saftey of the country, as opposed to the hand-wringing burreaucrats more concerned with shifting blame and career advancement than in shielding American from harm that we actually have to live with.

Weighing in further on the topic is Keith Olbermann, one of my litimus tests for whether or not I want to befriend someone, who claims that 24 is nothing more than pro-Bush propaganda, an especially odd assertion considering how friendly to Muslims the current season of the show has been. Olbermann must really hate 24 to take a break from his usual 45 minutes of O'Reilly bashing.

As for 24, the last two episodes were a sweet return to mid Day 3 form, which is to say they were pretty damn good, not awesome.

153- The Pursuit of Happyness review

Oh, the joys of capitalism. For all of the system’s glaring faults, you don’t see people dying in droves attempting to reach communist countries. In some areas of the world, rags to riches stories are reserved for those in the local warlord’s secret police. In America, we’re told that work, work and more work is the solution to all of life’s problems.

“The Pursuit of Happyness” firmly believes in the perseverance-overcomes-all spirit heartily endorsed by the majority of America’s proponents. Based on the true story of Chris Gardener who went from homeless shelters to big time success, the film certainly does paint an interesting portrait if not a particularly riveting one.

Will Smith plays Chris, who we first see as a medical equipment salesman in 1981 San Francisco. He recently sunk his family’s life savings into bone-density scanners, a piece of equipment that he discovers to be in low demand. Bills pile up, and his wife (Thandie Newton) takes off, leaving Chris with his 5-year-old son Christopher (Jaden Smith, son of Will). One day Chris spots a Ferrari outside of an investment firm and decides to ditch the medical sales profession and move up into the business world.

After some ass kissing and Rubik’s Cube trickery, Chris secures an unpaid, highly competitive internship. The already strenuous position is made all the more difficult when a train station bathroom serves as his bed, his son must be picked up early and the only potential income for six months lies within those scanners. Chris always seems to be just one step ahead of total disaster, each setback slowing him down but never bringing him to a halt.

And there are plenty of setbacks: He is hit by a car, arrested for failing to pay tickets, the IRS thieves money from his bank account and in an amusing but awkwardly repeated scenario, has his bone-density machines stolen. While mostly believable, it doesn’t take long for the point to be made and a few of these scenes would have made for a nice trim.

It’s filmed with sort of dry colors that resemble movies from the time period, with San Francisco serving as a gorgeous, intimidating reservoir of advancement possibilities. The story lacks villains. Though the businessmen demonstrate galling callousness towards Chris, they’re also friendly and helpful. His fawning over their gorgeous homes and sleek cars reminds us that Chris’ goal isn’t simply to defeat personal poverty, but to accumulate happiness through riches. Chris already has love through his son, but he wants that Ferrari too.

Oddly but wisely, the film virtually ignores the nitty gritty details of the actual investment work, instead choosing to emphasize Chris’ workplace resilience and his relationship with his son. The father and son sequences grant the story its heart, and thanks to excellent, reserved performances, these moments are affectionate without stumbling into sappiness.

“The Pursuit of Happyness” is the kind of film that certainly aims to inspire. Does it? Maybe. I’m not an expert on the subject, but my instinct tells me that the number of homeless that become self-made millionaires is a statistical anomaly.

But the homeless outside of the protagonist aren’t portrayed as a concern, the focus strictly adhering to the ascension of one seriously talented individual. Chris was born ready to conquer the challenges of capitalism, his natural talent with numbers proving more than incidental augmentation to his tireless efforts. His accomplishments are far out of the range of the ordinary individual and with a capitalist mindset that demands admiration, but provides little insight to those who can’t instantly solve a Rubik’s Cube.

3.5 out of 5

152 - Flyboys mini-review

If I hadn't been told in advance how hokey Flyboys is, then it may not have took off for me, but it did, even if the plane then hovered 20 feet above ground, smoke bellowing from the engine. This heavy-handed portrait of WWI fliers packs in every war movie cliche in the book to the point where things start to get unpredictable because I'm not sure which cliche will come up next. The rich fat guy learns to love the stoic black guy, the lead gets laid by a pretty frog, the evil German pilot gets his just desserts, and many more than I am willing to list.

But the critically maligned CGI battles are actually pretty nifty, although I was prepared to give the film a 0 if there was one more mid-air staring contest. It's dopey, sure, but nice scenes such as the training sequence where the pilots learn to fly by walking on boards and shooting at stationary targets give the film some lift. Moronic subplots add roughly 40 minutes to the running time, rendering this useless as a casual way to kill time.

2 out of 5