Tag Archives: #alcoholabuse

The Way Back

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Release: Friday, March 6, 2020

👀 Theater

Written by: Brad Ingelsby

Directed by: Gavin O’Connor

Starring: Ben Affleck; Janina Gavankar; Al Madrigal; Michaela Watkins

Distributor: Warner Bros. Pictures

 

 

 

***/*****

Jack Cunningham (Ben Affleck) had a future in basketball beyond high school. Probably beyond college. Once the pride of Bishop Hayes High in the 1990s, he led his team to more victories and championships in his four years than the many iterations managed in the decades since. These days, his alma mater barely manages to field a varsity team. They’re not an also-ran, they’ve been irrelevant for so long cobwebs are forming on those banners hanging from the rafters.

Now they’re without their coach, who has suffered a heart attack. Dan, an algebra teacher (Al Madrigal), pulls double-duty as an assistant but he’s no coach, at least not the one with the capital C. There are a few stand-out athletes running around the gym, but it’s all in disorganized fashion and the average player is as good at sinking three’s as Shaq was at free throws. Miraculously they still have a pep squad and a team chaplain (Jeremy Radin) and despite the dismal win record they abide by basic moral principles of competing fairly and with the understanding that the results of the game, fair or foul, do not define them as students, as young men.

Life after the game hasn’t been rosy for Jack. Working construction, living alone and drinking uncontrollably, Jack is functional but clearly in a good deal of pain. The Way Back slowly, cautiously inches its way towards an explanation as to why he has isolated himself not just from the game but from making social connections. One day he is thrown a lifeline in the form of a voicemail from Bishop Hayes’ Father Divine (John Aylward), imploring him to come and fill in as Head Coach for this struggling team. After a night of booze-soaked introspection and exhausting all possible reasons to turn down the offer, Jack of course shows up at practice and sets about coaching up. His goal is to toughen up the team, improve their fundamentals, make them eligible for the playoffs for the first time since his playing days.

Director Gavin O’Connor, most famous for Miracle (2004) and Warrior (2011), presents yet another character-driven sports drama. I’ve always admired the way he marries realistic, intensely choreographed action with interesting characters going on powerful emotional journeys. The Way Back has all those ingredients and yet the flavor lacks. The drama, whether on the court or off of it, really doesn’t have any surprise plays in its playbook. To its credit basketball is not where the movie really lies; Brad Ingelsby’s screenplay de-emphasizes spectacle for the quieter emotional battles taking place away from the game.

The difference here is the bonafide movie star who delivers the emotion and nuance this patently predictable movie needs. It’s a terrific, authentic performance, not least because it’s often difficult to separate the Movie Star from the character. Affleck does just that though, in fact he succeeds to an almost profound degree, especially in the scenes in which he is forced to confront the source of his pain alongside his estranged wife Angela (the lovely Janina Gavankar). Ultimately, Affleck’s heartbreaking performance — no doubt elevated by this acute awareness of what he himself has gone through over a prolonged period — is what redeems the movie.

Moral of the Story: Empathetically told and impressively acted, The Way Back (not to be confused with the 2010 drama The Way Back . . . or for that matter, the 2013 indie comedy The Way Way Back) is yet more proof of the natural, amiable personality of director Gavin O’Connor. It hopefully marks a rebound for actor Ben Affleck as well. Word of caution for fans expecting on-court drama and personal tension on a Hoosiers level: don’t uh, don’t do that. 

Rated: R

Running Time: 108 mins.

Quoted: “You want to know why they’re leaving you open? It’s because they don’t think you can hit the ocean from the beach.”

All content originally published and the reproduction elsewhere without the expressed written consent of the blog owner is prohibited. 

Photo credits: http://www.impawards.com; http://www.imdb.com 

A Star is Born (2018)

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Release: Friday, October 5, 2018

👀 Theater

Written by: Eric Roth; Bradley Cooper; Will Fetters

Directed by: Bradley Cooper

Starring: Bradley Cooper; Lady Gaga; Andrew Dice Clay; Sam Elliott; Dave Chapelle

Distributor: Warner Bros. Pictures

 

*****/*****

Bradley Cooper has been a star for some time, but alongside the inimitable pop star Lady Gaga he seems to burn even brighter. Legitimately honing another craft within the framework of one of his best acting showcases to date, Cooper, aided by a beard, a guitar and a mic, manages to hit all the right notes, on both ends of the camera.

With A Star is Born, the 43-year-old isn’t exactly stepping out on a limb when it comes to finding a subject for his directing début. Famously A Star is Born tells of two careers in showbiz trending in different directions — one star rising as the other fades. The luminous Judy Garland beat Lady Gaga to the role by more than half a century (that film, although about a woman yearning to become a Hollywood starlet rather than a world-touring singer/songwriter, is the template I’m told this one adheres closest to) while Cooper shares a similar arc with the likes of Fredric March, James Mason and Kris Kristofferson in years past. So yes, the story Cooper is telling has already been told several times before, but that doesn’t mean his version has nothing to offer. The craftsmanship and character work make the movie worth savoring. That Gaga and Cooper make quality music together is the cherry.

In the 2018 rendition Cooper plays Jackson Maine, a big time performer who sold out stadiums in his prime and whose tired eyes and gravelly, baritone voice have seen and sung it all. Years of demanding tour schedules have taken their toll on him physically and mentally. Drugs and alcohol have become better roadies to him than his older brother Bobby (Sam Elliott). Each successive gig finds Jackson deeper and deeper into a bottle, until one night there is no more and he’s compelled to scout local dives to quench his thirst. As fate would have it, he stumbles into the same drag bar Ally (Gaga) spends much of her free time singing and dreaming of a different life. Worlds collide when Jackson is permitted a meet-and-greet. A deep connection is formed and instantly.

Nowhere is the evolution of a classical romance more apparent than in Cooper’s casting of Gaga as the meteorically rising Ally, who has been told ten times too many how people like how she sounds but not the way she looks. Mother Monster, as her fans call her, is of course the embodiment of a modern culture and a modern industry, a chameleonic performer whose flashy stage presence often obscures reality. Not that all the colorful accoutrement tell an untruth, but there is certainly a sense of dressing down, or a veil being lifted both in terms of wardrobe and in her performance as she confesses her insecurities to a sympathetic stranger. And it isn’t just in this first intimate moment, some of her own numbers at the piano (“Always Remember Us This Way”) feel like revelations in their own right.

The film features an assortment of impactful performances, evidenced by smaller but still significant supporting turns from the likes of Dave Chapelle as Noodles, an old drinking buddy who has cleaned himself up but still finds himself having to help a spiraling Jack out of the gutter, and Andrew “The Dice Man!” Clay as Ally’s father who once imagined himself a knock-off Sinatra. Still does. But none hog the gravitas all to themselves like the mustachioed Elliot as Bobby who is helpless, like Ally, to do anything about the demons that continue to plague his younger brother.

Quite honestly Elliot deserves an entire paragraph dedicated just to him. He is that good here and that voice of his always deserves more press. But this isn’t his show. This is unequivocally Cooper and Gaga’s time. A Star is Born dramatizes aspects of the entertainment industry, namely the tug-of-war between artists and their vision and managers/producers who have their own agendas, as well as the stresses of not simply finding success but trying to make it last. More fundamentally though this is a love saga and the enduring power of love. If there is any justice, this movie too shall endure.

Getting handsy

Moral of the Story: A Star is Born is given a modern facelift with the innately likable Bradley Cooper and a revelatory Lady Gaga, and the results are surprisingly powerful. Beyond the professional fakery, the music is genuinely good. Who knew Rocket the Raccoon had such pipes? 

Rated: R

Running Time: 135 mins.

Quoted: “Can I touch your nose?”

All content originally published and the reproduction elsewhere without the expressed written consent of the blog owner is prohibited. 

Photo credits: http://www.impawards.com; http://www.imdb.com

Filth

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Release: Friday, April 25, 2014 (limited) 

[Netflix]

Written by:  Jon S. Baird

Directed by: Jon S. Baird 

What’s that old adage — nice guys finish last? Nice guys are also chumps.

James McAvoy as Scottish Detective Sergeant Bruce Robinson added that last part. It wasn’t me. I’m not the guy bumping a line or two before work, before meetings (before anything for that matter); not the guy almost literally cutting throats to get ahead, to get that coveted Detective Inspector promotion. I would never use a woman like Bruce would over a phone. I guess never say never, because I’m not sure what I’m fully capable of.

After all, I did find myself identifying perhaps a little too easily with his self-destructiveness. I found myself enjoying Filth for what it is rather than what it could have been: this is a story that enjoys that last burning cigarette before undergoing chemotherapy for its lung cancer. Nothing like that actually happens (though Bruce enjoys a cigarette for sure) but its reckless abandon and willful sinning is undeniably infectious.

Jon S. Baird drowns his character study in a hallucinogenic spirit that’s as fun as it is toxic. Based on an Irvine Welsh novel, Filth starts off pessimistic and ends accordingly, somewhat miserably. But McAvoy is just so good it doesn’t even matter if the tone vacillates between bleak and upbeat, suggesting a Fear & Loathing in Edinburgh, and that his character is uncharacteristically vile. Consistency isn’t what this relatively low-budgeted production was ever aiming for. It strips away illusion to reveal the ugliness of reality, a man coping with his life after a terrible event. Overcompensating, perhaps, but dealing with it in what may be the only way he can. Rarely is he justified in his actions — his abuse of friends and lady friends is shameful — and his abuse of narcotics and abuse of power while on the job are equally outrageous.

Bruce is assigned to oversee the investigation of the murder of a Japanese student, and though he believes this is the opportunity he needs to advance himself, he begins suffering from a series of emotional setbacks that gradually spiral out of control. Filth revels in squalidity not unlike the self-inflicted nightmare Raoul Duke and his attorney experienced en route to discovering the American Dream of the 1970s. In Filth, a film that seems to try to repel rather than entice — those who like their stories upbeat and expect some sort of method to the madness ought to give this a miss — things go from bad to worse and when they don’t seem to be able to get any more disorienting there’s always Jim Broadbent as Dr. Rossi to ensure Dorothy continues tumbling down the rabbit hole.

Filth isn’t particularly ambitious, despite the commitment from its lead. Where at first Baird’s screenplay seems to suggest a complex police procedural, there comes a point where it becomes apparent the narrative has little interest in anything beyond delving deeper into the mindset of a most corrupt detective. Unfortunately it takes some time before that awareness hits; surely I’m not the only one who arrived at the end feeling somewhat duped. Of course, there’s something I should have expected to sacrifice watching McAvoy making obscene gestures towards small children in public places and being a general douche, and if this film delivers on any promise it’s ensuring he may lose a few fans. Or he may gain some. I don’t really know. I do know that the red beard suits him though.

Despite the underachieving story, the production is bolstered by all-around great performances; entertaining turns from the likes of Eddie Marsan as Clifford Blades, a member of a masonic lodge Bruce is a part of, Imogen Poots as Drummond with whom Bruce is in the fiercest competition regarding that coveted pay raise, and Broadbent’s previously mentioned doc. Each performer seems to enjoy getting their hands dirty right alongside McAvoy. Very little of this world is attractive, yet there’s something compelling about Bruce’s degeneration.

“Yeah, alright then, take two of these and call me in the morning.”

Recommendation: Gleefully unpleasant, mischievous in all the right ways and darkly comedic, Filth is undoubtedly an acquired taste. For fans of James McAvoy, consider this a must-see. It’s always a treat seeing an actor undertake a role so atypical that it becomes transformative. Bruce Robinson is certainly the glue keeping this one together, as the story leaves quite a bit to be desired. 

Rated: R

Running Time: 97 mins.

Quoted: “Same rules apply.” 

All content originally published and the reproduction elsewhere without the expressed written consent of the blog owner is prohibited.

Photo credits: http://www.impawards.com; http://www.imdb.com 

Boyhood

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Release: Friday, July 18, 2014 (limited)

[Theater]

I know my refusal to get up out of my seat even after almost three consecutive hours of sitting — in considerably cramped quarters, I might add — is pretty weak testament to the fact that Boyhood just may be one of the coolest films this reviewer has had the privilege of watching. Saying I didn’t move after the film ended is not a very flashy statement and it probably won’t help sell a lot of tickets, I’ll admit. Instead it’s one that might even lead readers to think I just got stuck in the chair or something. Maybe I had even fallen asleep. I have seen that before, actually; people just lying there comatose while the credits rolled — sigh. What are they paying for?

If I had fallen asleep here, I would have just paid to sleep through a rare kind of cinematic event. Foolishly, I would have muted a voice I, as something of a nit-picky consumer of media, have been needing to hear for awhile. A voice that’s already too hard to hear when the Michael Bays and Brett Ratners and M. Night Shamalyans of the world won’t hush. Indeed I would have, in effect, slept through another chance to grow up once more, to do it all over again.

Wait, I didn’t mean I slept through my childhood the first time, just that I would have been. . . . . oh, never mind. You know what I mean. And you know what else, even if that opening line isn’t all that attention-grabbing, hey at least I’m being honest! I remain unable to leave this film behind, physically or psychologically. Yes, I might still be in denial. Yes, I’m still in the theater a week later. Yes, okay, that’s a lie.

But here’s something I can’t lie about: Richard Linklater’s much-anticipated project no longer exists in mythology. It’s now out there, ready for public consumption, even if its distribution will only allow the public to ingest it in nibbles.

Should I be surprised, though? Maybe it is fate that Transformers: Age of Exstinky debuted to some 3,000 theaters all crammed to the brim like cans of sardines while this astounding feat of cinematic beauty has slowly earned the right to open in front of less than 1,000 indie crowds over the past month and a half. Seems to me the public always picks its battles quickly, and in this example it’s one between films with short skirts versus those with long-winded explanations. And it’s so totally a one-sided affair, too. An overwhelming number of times the former emerges victorious. Visual stimulation is easier to accomplish — not necessarily cheaper to produce — than ones of a conceptual or emotive nature. After all, even despite dismal reviews that caucophany was the fourth installment in a series that has seriously lost its way but is still earning money. Lots of it.

Boyhood is a rare film for many reasons, but chief among those has to be how faithfully it adheres to the typical viewer’s own experiences. (Unless, of course, you’re an alien.) Never before has the line between fiction and reality been so flirtatious, so challenging to define. Character names and relationships are afforded the protection of fictionalization, and thank goodness too because that’s one of perhaps two things distinguishing proceedings from home-video footage (the second element being a distinctly more expensive piece of equipment used in filming). Production values exist on a level liable to boggle the mind if one is not careful. And hopefully, if one is not passed out in their seats.

We first meet Mason as his diminutive frame sprawls out upon a patch of brilliant green grass — eyes wide and full, ingesting every ounce of the sky above. Already he is engaged in a process we, the mere spectators, have been practicing for some time: being aware of his surroundings. (Later, finding a way to blend in.) While it’s a bit disconcerting never being able to pinpoint the precise moment we become aware of our own presence, there certainly becomes a point where its clear cynical men have abandoned the nescience of true boyhood. Such abstraction may not occur to every viewer, but it’s one of the more breathtaking developments over the course of these fleeting minutes.

In that iconic opening shot, Mason’s already sponge-like, absorbing and observing things about his environment, about the kinds of things kids his age do. He’s learning his family is also not the most traditional one, but he won’t understand why for another little while. Neither will we.These are the kinds of things real people grow up having to cope with, rather than worrying about when the token girl will pop up “on screen” and “become central to the plot via some contrivance.” That sugarcoating just won’t ring true here. And yet, Mason’s going to be a hero all the same for walking through this. Although enigmatic from the get-go his charm is not instantly earned. Particularly in the early years, Mason doesn’t feel as though he’s made of the stuff of even the most transparent of cinematic creations.

There’s something more organic about Coltrane’s presence. Whether this comes down to a particularly subtle acting style on his behalf or a sensationally perceptive script could be debated until the cows come home. Or at least, you know. . . until the absentee father does. Ethan Hawke and Patricia Arquette, two somewhat illustrious names in the industry, help ensure some of the film’s emotional gravity is not lost on slightly inexperienced actors. But this casting is about as extravagant as Boyhood becomes and it is not to suggest Coltrane doesn’t have to sweat the big stuff. Oh, how he does. But rather than sweating, Coltrane remains graceful, poised. He simply becomes what is asked of him.

Meanwhile, more identifiable ‘performances’ can be found with Hawke, as he embraces the opportunity to portray Mason Sr., the biological father whom Mason and Samantha only see on the odd occasion. A very fun Ethan Hawke provides charisma and energy where these kids really require strong parental support (every hard-working mother in the room should be able to empathize to great depths with Arquette’s brilliant performance); gifts where they need valuable lessons.

Ah, but he comes prepared with a few of those, too.

Mason Sr. is a great guy, but perhaps not so much a competent father figure. All of his wisdom is imparted on-the-go. A scene in which he’s delivering the birds-and-the-bees speech takes place in a public setting and he’s even considerate enough to include both kids in the discussion. That kind of awkwardness only manifests itself in reality. There’s no way this scene is actually scripted. . .is there? Could it be? That’s just one example, albeit a particularly strong one. If I were to name some others we could be here all night and day.

As per the lyrics: “let me go. I don’t want to be your hero. I don’t want to be a big man. I just want to fight with everyone else.” Indeed. Ever the idealist, I didn’t want to get out of my seat because I wanted those pangs of nostalgia to never subside. Best part of all, my refusal to move is merely unique to one particularly reactive moviegoer. Linklater easily could have groped for sentimentality but where he avoids forcing saccharinity, he’s unable to escape effecting profundity.

aging-up-yo

5-0Recommendation: Boyhood is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. Immense in both scope and ambition, Richard Linklater’s project is also intensely personal. His name ought to be crowned among the greatest directors of all time. With a single movie — although it would be a bit dismissive to label this just another title to add to the stack — I feel he has earned that right. A labor of love it may be, but this is also one of the most important and significant films ever released. I urge you with something akin to desperation, to treat yourself to this marvel.

Rated: R

Running Time: 165 mins.

Quoted: “Why are you crying?”

“Because I don’t have all the answers.”

All content originally published and the reproduction elsewhere without the expressed written consent of the blog owner is prohibited.

Photo credits: http://www.impawards.com; http://www.imdb.com 

TBT: The Santa Clause (1994)

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Jolly ol’ Saint Nick crashed into my roof late the other night. When he squeezed his wide self down the chimney and caused a mess with equal gracelessness minutes later, the two of us had a chat about his job and how under-appreciated it really is. After I got over my initial shock about the fact that the guy was actually real, we sat down and I cracked a beer, while the big man gorged himself on milk and cookies that for years I swear were always going to waste at the fireplace. The chat would be quite brief as he obviously had many millions of other homes to get to over the course of the night (stressful much?) but in the end, I got excellent insight into the true identity of the man, the myth and the legend Santa Claus. Turns out, his image had been concealed the entire time. Actually an alcoholic by the name of Tim Allen, his festive alias had been successful covering up incidences like this one for centuries. To prove this was the case, he took a big swig of my 40-oz Old English, threw his toy bag over his shoulder and headed out the front door, asking kindly for a ladder so he could access the roof once more and head on out. I obliged and bid farewell to the bumbling man behind the bushy beard. 

Today’s food for thought: The Santa Clause.

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Release: November 11, 1994

[VHS]

When up on the roof there arose such a clatter, Scott Calvin reluctantly dashed outside to see what was the matter. . . .

Looking back, it seems strange now to imagine the great Bill Murray magically transforming into the beloved and iconic role of Santa Claus in this Disney classic. In fact it’s impossible.

Maybe Tim Allen’s seemingly natural fit for this role is enhanced by the realization that this was his big-screen debut. Anytime one thinks about the man’s acting chops, they are likely to think back to The Santa Clause, the serendipitous tale about a man whose family life is falling to the wayside when suddenly he’s given a second chance after he inadvertently kills Santa and takes over his duties having donned the big red coat.

Scott is recently divorced and only gets to see his son, Charlie (Eric Lloyd) over the holiday season. His ex-wife Laura (Wendy Crewson) is now seeing a shrink. . .and not for the therapy sessions, either. Dr. Neil Miller (Judge Reinhold) is a psychologist, a nice man with an apparent taste in tacky sweaters, and a skepticism of Scott. The Millers represent something of the perfect Christmas family, one that’s likely to receive nothing but nice gifts; whereas Mr. Calvin over here is doomed for a stocking full of coal.

All of that would soon change following his initial half-hearted completion of Santa’s route across the planet that one fateful Christmas Eve.

To think that someone with a criminal record could play the role of St. Nick is a little disconcerting, especially for those making the film. This is like learning the guy who played Barney the purple dinosaur detested children, or that Steve from Blue’s Clues enjoyed a cocaine high perhaps a bit too much. However, Disney and director John Pasquin felt more comfortable with this particular casting choice than paying attention to some little gray area and hence, Allen’s big screen break.

The casting of the former Home Improvement star is particularly amusing in the first installment as we get to witness the transformation. Allen’s character reluctantly goes from regular guy on the street to a mythical, jolly and lovable spirit. The way the film handles such a transition is perhaps the most enjoyable aspect to The Santa Clause because we get to see the practical implications of his physique. We see his belly rapidly expanding and his facial hair growing as if he’s experiencing a second bout of puberty — times ten! One particular shot of him on a park bench watching Charlie play is priceless.

Allen is good here, no doubt about it. He’s an actor with some great comedic timing, an asset put to good use in this film. However, that’s not to suggest he was starring in a perfect one. Far from it, in fact. The Santa Clause has been accused of excessive sentimentalism, some rather lame joke-telling, and one or two questionably adult themes (the ‘1-800-SPANK-ME’ line apparently caused a real-life outrage) that tended to mix awkwardly with material that was clearly aimed at the more youthful crowd. There’s no steering your sleigh around those facts; this movie dangerously towed the line between dark drama and inane comedy (going to the North Pole proved to be a great example of the latter in the significantly worse sequels), and made this film more unbalanced than it needed to be.

All the same, one can’t deny the twinkle that Allen had in his eyes when the transformation was finally complete. Touching moments abound when Scott finally lets go of all of his previous misconceptions about the holiday, and this is especially true when his identity is eventually revealed to the public (or at least, the people who matter — like the Millers) the very next Christmas. Seeing adults react to the knowledge that Santa is indeed a real person was one of my favorite experiences with this film as a child, an effect that has only moderately weakened over time. The Santa Clause may not be the definitive Christmas classic, but it does just fine on its own.

Creepy Claus . . .

Creepy Claus . . .

3-5Recommendation: An admirably clever way to break down some of the mystery surrounding one of the most fabled characters of all time, Pasquin’s full-length feature debut is certainly more desirable over his next outing with Tim Allen (the downright atrocious Jungle 2 Jungle). It also manages to entertain adults and children alike, even though the emphasis is unarguably on the latter. Still, grown-ups could do a lot worse than this as far as kids movies are concerned.

Rated: PG

Running Time: 97 mins.

Quoted: “Well, isn’t that a pretty picture, Santa rolling down the block in a PANZER! Well kids, I. . .I certainly hope you have been good this year, cause it looks like Santa just took out the Pearson home. Incoming!”

All content originally published and the reproduction elsewhere without the expressed written consent of the blog owner is prohibited.

Photo credits: http://www.imdb.com 

TBT: Bad Santa (2003)

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Growing up, one of the harshest realities we all had to come to grips with was the fact that jolly ol’ Saint Nick was in fact, not real. But oh boy, is he! He comes to life on the big screen in this knock-out raunch-fest in ways no good little Johnny or Jenny should ever know. . . at least not until they hit puberty. This might be one of the all-time greatest darkest Christmas comedies ever made, and I apologize in advance for the insane amount of gushing that is to come. In an effort to tone that down a little, I want to do something a wee bit different here with this TBT. Therefore, we will have a letter in response to this movie, written by an 8-year-old Tom Little (because, unlike many, I’m not ashamed to admit that that was the age when I finally resigned to Santa being nothing more than my parents’ best-kept secret).

Today’s food for thought: Bad Santa. 

BAD SANTA

Release: November 26, 2003

[Theater]

Dear Santa, when did you turn into a depressed, raging alcoholic?

I thought you were supposed to be jolly! Instead what I am seeing here is one, big, fat jerk!!! Actually, you seem to be too skinny to be Santa. And that beard that hangs awkwardly underneath your chin. . . . are you sure you are the real Santa?

When I first saw you in this movie, I didn’t know what to think. Mostly because I was sad. You dashed the hopes of millions of children like me. How could Santa be such a mean, uncaring person — a man who likes to drink more than deliver gifts; a man who, when saying “Ho-ho-ho!” is really meaning something else, I think, because he always says it when he’s around girls. I don’t understand what this means, but you’re not being nice I don’t think.

But not only is there scene-after-scene of you being a grumpy old bugger, but you steal! You are obsessed with fancy, pretty jewelry! Maybe it’s because I am young and don’t understand yet — is this how you give people gifts so easily in one night, you just take things and then give them to others? Can I get a piece of jewelry?  Also, for being jolly old Saint Nick, boy do you swear a whole lot! I don’t think there’s anything weirder to me than seeing you yelling and cursing at all those innocent kids that sat upon your unhappy lap in the mall. Except for one kid in this film, you seem to hate everyone. How big is your ‘Naughty’ list? How small is your ‘Nice’ one? I wonder which one I would get put on to. . .

Don’t you get any joy at all getting to hang out with your elf-friends. . .or midgets? Er, no, I think they are elves. I have never been to the North Pole, so I don’t know what a real Santa’s helper is supposed to look like. All I see you do here is go to bars and say rude things to people — even your short little elf pal who helps you steal stuff from stores you work in. Bad Santa. Very bad.

There’s another really big question I have. Is the lady that’s in this movie who is on the DVD cover putting her tongue in your ear — is she Mrs. Clause? Why is she doing that kind of stuff? Is that some sort of adult secret I don’t know about yet? I have to say, Santa, the way she acts around you kind of makes me uncomfortable. But she must like you because she always is near you and tries to make you feel happy.

Anyways, a lot of what I am finding out about you, sir, shocks me. I do have to say, though, it was nice to see you actually sort of trying to be nice and be a role model of sorts to this one fat awkward kid named Thurman Merman. He reminds me of some of my friends, who get bullied. For some reason, other people think it’s fun to be mean to those around them and make them feel really badly about themselves. But this is one time where you, “Santa,” actually stick up for something. This makes me a bit more happy. You probably aren’t the best role model ever but it kind of looks like you are trying to do the right thing towards the end of the movie.

I hope you eventually do cheer up and start enjoying yourself. You have a pretty special life, and you should make the most of it! You might not like your job but I don’t think a lot of people do. Please stop drinking so much because I am afraid that one day you might crash your sleigh into someone’s roof and get the reindeer all hurt. No one wants that!

Sincerely,

A concerned kid named Tom.

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Naughty List:

  1. Not a film for everyone by any stretch of the imagination. This movie really limits its potential audience with the vast sea of profanity, depressing themes and Willie T. Stokes (Billy Bob Thornton)’s excessive alcohol abuse.
  2. This movie ain’t for kiddies, and is the epitome of what it feels like to be disillusioned. If you believed in Santa Clause before this movie, you sure as hell won’t afterwards.
  3. The plot is paper-thin but we’ll let it slide. Its “story” takes a backseat to the outrageous comedy.
  4. Santa’s not only mean, but racist. In the parking lot scene he accuses his assailant of being the reason his brother lost an arm fighting the Vietnamese back in the day. The guy was clearly from the Middle East.
  5. The passing of both Bernie Mac and John Ritter makes watching this movie now a very bittersweet proposition.

Nice List:

  1. Billy Bob Thornton goes against-type in one of the most offensive, but painfully funny lead roles he’s stepped into. His completely amoral, alcoholic mall Santa who doesn’t like kids is rather ingenious, and, dare I say it, refreshing.
  2. The Thurman-midget fight scene is one of the funniest things I’ve personally ever witnessed. From what little I remember of being in this theater ten years ago, I do recall nearly peeing myself in this moment.
  3. That Thurman actually ends up bringing Willie out of his deep, dark depression is kind of heartwarming. Emphasis on “kind of.” Everything in this movie is relative, so this relationship mostly is built on tough love. But it works, and its nice to see Willie actually have a change of heart.
  4. John Ritter and Bernie Mac contribute to the film’s comedy, but they offer different kinds of comedy, rather than the dark, bleak style that Thornton’s anti-hero and Tony Cox’s midget-elf offers. Their interactions with the wayward Santa makes for some pretty memorable moments.
  5. Even Santa needs a pick-me-up. In this case, it’s the cute bartender, Sue (Lauren Graham).

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3-5Recommendation: It’s possible this is one of the most sacrilegious films ever made, but if you’re into that kind of thing, Bad Santa makes for gleefully offensive entertainment. Thornton’s performance churns out a line-o-rama that most kids shouldn’t be able to repeat after watching, but then again, kids are hardly this film’s target audience. Understandably viewed by opponents as an unnecessarily vulgar product and maybe even a waste of time, this is one strictly for the cynics.

Rated: R

Running Time: 91 mins.

Quoted: “Is granny spry?” 

All content originally published and the reproduction elsewhere without the expressed written consent of the blog owner is prohibited.

Photo credits: http://www.imdb.com 

The Spectacular Now

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Release: Friday, August 2, 2013 (limited)

[Theater]

Miles Teller had but one chance left to impress before I completely wrote him off as an actor who may have talent, but is perpetually doomed to recycling poor role choices. Even though his resumé may be limited, there’s enough to notice the pattern of him being typecast as the boisterous, most extroverted alpha male in the room. Never one to take anything seriously, the 26-year-old Teller in drunken fiascos like 21 & Over and Project X has been highly unlikable and the movies themselves never led me to believe the kid could really act. Fortunately, that opinion needs to be amended, now that I’ve seen his work in The Spectacular Now, an unusually refined story that shows a young couple falling in love and dealing with the complicated realities of being on the cusp of adulthood. Yes, it’s a coming-of-age story, but not one you’ve seen before.

Teller takes on a more civilized version of his once-and-future frat boy persona. Where he was once trying much too hard to channel his inner John Belushi circa Animal House with his high-spirited debauchery and general disregard for anyone around him (including his friends), his Sutter Keely is dressed in a decorum which really goes the extra mile in this new film from James Ponsoldt. While he’s still not my favorite element to the film (that recognition goes to Shailene Woodley’s stellar performance) this guy is a much more likable person and is one that is easy to get behind and root for. Finally.

Sutter’s that kid who refuses to think about the future. He lives very much in the moment, which is typically a healthy practice, but for him it’s become a mindset that has eroded more of his potential than fulfilled it since he seems content to just drift by in school, at his job and even in his relationships, all while embracing being king of high school — even if that is a clock that is set to expire pretty soon. Of course, he knows that, so isn’t that even more reason to remain in the here-and-now?

After a fall-out with his ex, Sutter goes on an inexplicable drinking spree (how does anyone get away with serving this kid when they know he’s underage?), gets tanked and drives home, which results in him laying in someone’s front yard, and being discovered by a concerned passer-by early the next morning. Thanks to his reputation, the girl immediately recognizes him, but he can’t quite put a name to this pretty face. She introduces herself as Aimee Finecky (Woodley). Call the rest history.

The film tumbles into a fierce love story between the two young stars that is intensely captivating. At a certain point, the performances and direction work so seamlessly that the script seems to be relegated to more of a guideline-type role and the real human element, the gut instinct, takes over. Being a teenager on the cusp of adulthood, facing real-world problems suddenly with secrets being revealed about one another’s own families and their histories, there’s no doubt that in particular Sutter and Aimee’s transitional year from high school to. . . . . whatever comes next. . . is particularly turbulent. Well, more like explosive, and Ponsoldt was adept in capturing as many sparks as he could. The fact remains that while teenagers do “have it made” more or less, there’s a lot to figure out about one’s self this early on. This film utilizes that time period to explore some deeply personal and complex emotions and head spaces.

In the end, it’s the details that really arrest. From discovering certain underlying reasons as to why Sutter drinks just so damn much; to him convincing Aimee that she needs to quit doing the paper route for her mom (“Mom, get off my motherf**king back!” being one of the movie’s more memorable lines); to what happens on the side of a road one fateful night. The film is a complete tour-de-force as far as the emotional spectrum is concerned. It’s almost a little bi-polar — but that term doesn’t sound good, so we’ll just go with extremely moody. At the same time, it’s a complete package. The ups are terrific and moving, while the low points almost break you to pieces. The last thing I thought I would be doing would be nearly coming to tears concerning Teller’s character at one point.

At the end of the day, with me being completely nonplussed by Teller’s previous output and then being blown away by his performance here — that’s saying something. However, it should also be mentioned that he’s got plenty of great material surrounding him, but it’s obvious he has stepped up his game for this role. He’s really quite likable and to me that was one of the largest payoffs. With that said, the rest of the cast is simply wonderful as well and the movie benefits tremendously from top-notch work turned in by all.

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4-0Recommendation: This is an emotional rollercoaster and if this had a massively long queue lined up for it, it’s surely worth that wait. The cast bring career-defining performances (although for Woodley, she started off on an equally impressive foot with her work in The Descendants) and the events that go down here are all but guaranteed to affect everyone in attendance substantially. If not, then those are some pretty cold-hearted moviegoers. And I pity the fool(s).

Rated: R

Running Time: 95 mins.

Quoted: “What do you mean? Everybody’s got a story.” 

All content originally published and the reproduction elsewhere without the expressed written consent of the blog owner is prohibited.

Photo credits: http://www.impawards.com; http://www.imdb.com