Mandy

Mandy

Panos Cosmatos' singular vision involves the 80s, fantasy, horror, cults, drugs, violence, Nicolas Cage, Cheddar Goblins, and lots and lots of red. Welcome to the world of Mandy.

My favorite films are the ones that exist in their own world. When I watch movies by directors such as Stanley Kubrick, Paul Thomas Anderson, Wes Anderson, the Coen Brothers, Edgar Wright, David Lynch, Quentin Tarantino, and every other auteur that's cliche to mention, I feel like I'm visiting a planet with its own unique tone, look, logic, and characters. I know exactly what it would be like to live in the world of The Shining or Fargo or Boogie Nights or The Royal Tenenbaums or Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World because they're all entirely unique unto themselves. Mandy is another unique movie-world like these, and that's easily its strongest element. The tone of its world is hypnotic and dream-like but also menacing and nightmarish, with the same going for the characters. The music and cinematography are perfectly utilized to further establish the movie's unique tone and never distract from the simple story.

The story itself is the only thing that keeps me from truly loving Mandy. Without getting into spoilers, it's a revenge movie, and while it has all sorts of fascinating things surrounding that fact, that's still what it ends up being. I think the only revenge movie I've ever truly loved is Kill Bill Vol. 1, and while there are some similarities between Mandy and Kill Bill, Mandy is oppositely paced and has far less action. If there had been some more depth to the story and the screenplay I think Mandy could've been an all-time favorite for me, but I still love it for its fascinating world and bizarre uniqueness.

I'm not going to talk about spoilers because I highly recommend the experience that is Mandy. Just know that the whole thing is pretty intense and violent, so if you're not into that then don't go see it. But Nicolas Cage fans, you're definitely not going to want to miss this one, and the same goes for film fans in general.

You Were Never Really Here

You Were Never Really Here

I was very lucky to be working at the ArcLight theater in Hollywood when this film came out, because Joaquin Phoenix himself came to the theater to personally present the film and do a Q and A afterwards. Then he showed up again the next morning and proceeded to hang out at ArcLight the entire day, surprising audiences by walking into their theaters and introducing the movie. He then proceeded to do this for another entire day, which is when I was training for the job, so you could imagine how distracting it would be to try and listen to how to make popcorn when Joaquin Phoenix is laughing and hanging out just a few feet away.

I didn't get a chance to see the movie then, but this past week I was able to make the time to finally check it out.

This is my first Lynne Ramsay film (We Need to Talk About Kevin and Ratcatcher have been on my list for years but I still haven't made the time to watch them) and she is clearly brilliant when it comes to the language of film. She creates a wonderfully dreadful tone through the visual elements of the editing and cinematography, as well as the sound editing. The acting is also fantastic, with Joaquin Phoenix turning in a brilliant-as-always performance, as does Judith Roberts (the girl across the hall in Eraserhead) as Phoenix's mother, and Ekaterina Samsonov is very memorable as the teenage girl that Phoenix is tasked with saving.

Spoilers.

The downside is this: It's about a veteran with PTSD who is now a loner and saves a girl from a sex trafficking ring by killing everyone inside the house that these horrible acts are taking place in. Sound familiar? It's Taxi Driver word for word. The only difference is that this guy isn't a taxi driver, his job is saving girls from sex trafficking rings, which is kinda like remaking Jaws and making Roy Scheider's character a professional shark hunter - it misses the point.

Taxi Driver is about a horrible guy who does something good by doing something horrible. It's grimy and complex, which is why it's great. You Were Never Really Here is about a guy who kills people professionally but has a hard time doing it because he's traumatized from killing people professionally - it feels sort of unnecessary. Why doesn't he just stop killing people? And if the answer is "He can't because he's addicted to killing people", then that needs to be made clear, maybe by seeing him do it unprofessionally. We sort of get it when he vengeance-kills some guys who kill his mother, but that still feels justified. It needs to be made clear that this guy can't help but kill people, whether it's through a flashback or a conversation or literally anything. All we get are vague glimpses into his past, mainly involving childhood abuse, but never anything implying that he can't help but kill people.

I'm searching for more things to say but can't really think of anything. It looks great and the acting is great, but the plot is far too familiar and never really exceeds being a simple revenge movie. The closest it comes is a scene where Phoenix is killing one of the men who killed his mother, and for a moment they stop fighting and sing along to a song on the radio. It's a deeply bizarre but also profoundly powerful moment in an otherwise somewhat forgettable movie.

If you've been wanting to see this movie you should, you might get more out of it than I did, but I can't exactly recommend it on the simple basis of it not having much of an effect on me. I may come back to it, as this may be a film I'm completely wrong about and just need to see again in the right context, but as of right now I'm not a fan.

Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist

Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist

I've talked before about the subgenre of mid-2000's-quirky-indie-comedies (Napoleon Dynamite, Juno, (500) Days of Summer, 50/50, Whip It, etc), a popular trend that still occasionally gets new entries (Lady Bird, Ingrid Goes West, Colossal, etc.), and has had plenty of success cranking out very good movies. But, like any genre (particularly trendy subgenres), there are imposters; movies that are jumping on a fad just to make a quick buck. Mid-2000's-quirky-indie-comedies have such a distinct style that they're easy to recreate without actually having any substance, and Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist is certainly guilty of this crime.

Spoilers.

The story centers around Michael Cera (owning his newfound title as "America's lovable awkward guy," having just done both Juno and Superbad the year before) as Nick, a bitter teen who's just been dumped. He meet-cutes Norah (Kat Dennings) when she needs someone to pretend to be her boyfriend for a second and chooses him. They then spend a wacky night together looking for her drunk friend Caroline (Ari Graynor, who later played Juliette Danielle in The Disaster Artist), who's on a kooky adventure of her own.

The main problem I have with this movie is its disingenuousness. They hit the emotional beats that they know a movie is supposed to hit, but its clear that they never truly feel it. Nick is supposed to be heartbroken, so we see him make a long voicemail to ex-girlfriend, then proceed to be mildly grumpy for the rest of the movie. That's a pretty weak representation of heartbreak, even if it's just a comedy. Comedies like Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Shaun of the Dead, and High Fidelity all feature protagonists who are fueled by a breakup and do a great job of showing how they're affected by it throughout the film (Jason Segel is mopey and depressed, Shaun is determined to take charge of his life in order to win Liz back, and John Cusack is righteously bitter and angry). In Nick & Norah it's lazy, like something they just wanted to get out of the way so they could move on to quirky antics.

Nick's friends try to cheer him up, but they don't feel like real people either. They're all members of the same queercore band (Nick being the only straight guy) and they're pretty stereotypical gay best friend characters. There's a brilliant Patton Oswalt bit on why the gay best friend is an ill-informed cliche: gay people are still just people, they're not all magical pillars of wisdom that automatically know the cure to post-breakup depression simply because they're exempt from heterosexual relationships. Here, Nick's gay friends are just there to be his goofy gay friends. I don't think I'd go as far as to say it's homophobic, but it's certainly a lazy placeholder for actual personalities. Same goes for Caroline, who is literally just a drunk girl, as opposed to an actual character.

This is a comedy, so there are some goofy comedy set pieces, mostly involving the drunken Caroline, and they're all easy and sometimes unpleasant. Examples of "easy" include her bumping into silly homeless characters (featuring a bizarre cameo by Andy Samberg) and accidentally crashing some kind of Christmas production in a gay club and becoming part of the show. Anyone could write these scenes, it took absolutely no effort on the screenwriter's part. The main "unpleasant" example is a scene where she drops her gum in a vomit-filled toilet, then gets it back out and continues to chew it, which seems like something that belongs in a gross-out Farrelly Brothers movie, not a quirky indie comedy (so now they're not even getting their tropes right). This scene also makes no sense because not even a blackout-drunk person would think to do something this disgusting and Caroline hasn't been established as a disgusting character. None of these scenes are funny for anyone over thirteen years old.

The film centers around the romance between Nick and Norah- oh, except it doesn't. Nick's ex is friends with Norah, and it's established that while Norah has never met Nick she has a big crush on him because of his mixtapes that he made for his ex. So, when she randomly decides to have Nick pretend to be her boyfriend to avoid her ex, she finds out that he's the mixtape guy, and that lets the screenwriter skim past them actually having any kind of chemistry or emotional connection. The only romantic moment the two characters share is at the end of the movie when they somewhat randomly decide to make out in Electric Ladyland Studios, which Norah's father owns. Neither of the characters are likable or interesting on their own, but they're somehow even more boring together. Norah and Nick mainly just seem to piss each other off, but Nick's friends decide they're perfect for each other and give Norah a makeover, because that's what movies do. Most of the movie isn't even spent on Nick and Norah, it's mainly side-gags and near-constant digressions. Even though the movie is supposed to be about these strangers falling in love over one crazy night because of a playlist, we get a handful of songs from the actual playlist and literally one conversation about it. Considering the three things in the title are Nick, Norah, and this playlist that is somehow infinite, it's safe to say these should be the driving elements of the movie. Instead the movie isn't driven by anything at all, things just sort of happen because things have to happen in a movie.

As the title I gave them suggests, mid-2000's-indie-comedies were the popular thing in the mid-2000's, and when its successful formula became obvious to other filmmakers, the copycats all came sprinting. Nick & Norah is a definite copycat, having no emotional, comedic, or cinematic substance, and instead opts for lazy, familiar indie-comedy beats that allowed it to pass the technically-a-movie test. I have no idea what the book it's based on is like, but this movie is not a good pitch for it.

I don't recommend this movie. I have no nostalgic tie to it so I only see it as a shameless cash grab with no laughs or genuine emotion to offer. If you want to watch a mid-2000s-indie-comedy, there's plenty of other options that are much more satisfying. Don't waste your time.

Marie Antoinette

Marie Antoinette

No matter what, good or bad, Sofia Coppola movies are always interesting. While films like Lost in Translation and The Virgin Diaries are widely loved and well-regarded, her less-loved works such as The Bling Ring still have enough interesting elements to make them worth checking out, even if they're not great as a whole. For me, Marie Antoinette falls under the second category: it's an interesting-but-not-great-as-a-whole Sofia Coppola film.

The premise of Marie Antoinette is telling the (from as far as I know) mostly-accurate tale of the Queen of France, but heavily sprinkled with modernism. The costumes and sets are gorgeous and period-appropriate, but the actors all keep their own accents and speak modern English, and the soundtrack is full of cool alternative bands such as Gang of Four, Aphex Twin, Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Cure, New Order, and The Strokes. It creates a strange combination of old and new in a similar fashion to filmmaker Baz Luhrmann, but unlike a Luhrmann film, this movie is carefully paced and doesn't hit you over the head with empty symbolism and style. It's smartly written, and the visuals are lavish but tasteful.

The problem with Marie Antoinette is that, even though its ideas are presented clearly and there is a forward-moving plot, it still feels like nothing really happens. Part of this is because Marie Antoinette is not a particularly strong character. Her circumstances are fascinating: an Austrian royal is suddenly married to the King of France, but the king refuses to consummate the marriage and everyone is blaming her for it. However, all that's really revealed about Antoinette is that she has all the riches and privileges of being a queen, but is emotionally and sexually unsatisfied because of her husband. If someone asked me to describe Marie Antoinette's actual personality, I could only say that she's somewhat rebellious and somewhat lower-class, but even that's only occasionally touched on in the film. Within the plot she undeniably goes through an arc, but it doesn't seem to change her much as a person. Maybe it's Kirsten Dunst's performance's fault, but I happen to think she's an underrated actress and that the blame falls more on Coppola's directing. The subdued, understated nature of the acting in her other films makes sense because of their tone, but the tone of this film is a bit more over-the-top and fun, so that should also come through in the acting. It's okay for Kirsten Dunst to be more excited and more devastated, to clearly portray these emotions, especially when the actors around her (such as Rip Torn and Judy Davis) have a wide variety of expressions and emotions. In addition to not much seeming to affect the lead, the film itself seems to be unaffected by the story. Both the cinematography and the plot are shown in a distant, objective fashion, instead of getting up-close-and-personal with the characters' emotions. Lost in Translation isn't afraid to feel, so I wonder why this film is.

I'd still recommend the movie for the visuals and its unique style, but if you're looking for a deeply satisfying experience I'd say put this one on hold.

UHF

UHF

I grew up on Weird Al's album's and music videos (he was even the first concert I ever went to), because Weird Al made the best clean, goofy comedy for kids that could ever be possible. As an adult I still thoroughly enjoy Weird Al and his major contributions to the current alternative comedy scene, but in the 80's and 90's he was hugely popular in the mainstream due to his delightful parodies of the most popular music at the time, namely just about every Michael Jackson song ever made.

So, in 1989, he got to make a major motion picture. And it's exactly what you think it would be.

UHF tells the story of a loser named George (played by Weird Al) who, through very bizarre circumstances, ends up managing a public TV station. There's a mad scientist who gives Weird Al powers of some kind, he's got an uncle who owes the mob gambling debts, the guy who owns the public access station is essentially a supervillian, Fran Drescher is their receptionist but also a reporter, and Michael Richards is a janitor who accidentally becomes a Bozo the Clown-esque TV star. This movie completely insane. But not always in a good way.

The film's at its absolute best when it's just doing comedy sketches. There are fake commercials (Spatula City, Plots 'R Us Mortuary Service), fake movie trailers (Conan the Librarian, Gandhi II), home nature shows (Raul's Wild Kingdom), music videos ("Money for Nothing/Beverly Hillbillies"), a terrible Bozo the Clown/Howdy Doody-type kid's show, and big-scale parodies of Raiders of the Lost Ark and First Blood. These are all sublimely stupid and funny, and honestly they should've just been the whole movie because they're more than enough to enjoy. Unfortunately, we get a plot too.

Any time the movie isn't doing a parody or a sketch, it's following a very cliche plot about a loser who's trying to get his girlfriend back and there's a big corporate bad guy who's hassling him. There's almost nothing from this side of the movie that made me laugh (Al's crying voice message to his girlfriend easily being the funniest thing), and sadly it's the vast majority of the movie. They clearly tried punching it up by filling these boring scenes with as many silly slapstick gags as they possibly could, which somehow only made them even more cringe-worthy.

It seems like they were trying to be like Airplane!, where there's a cliche plot that doesn't matter because there's a gag-a-second and they're all funny, when it would be much better for them to just be Kentucky Fried Movie, a feature-length movie made entirely of comedic sketches.

It's completely uneven, and the heavy side of the teeter-totter is full of unfunny goofs and pointless plot, but that other side is just so bizarre and so funny that I'd still say it's worth checking out. Just keep your finger on that fast-forward button, cause you won't be missing much between the sketches.