Kicking and Screaming (1995)

Not to be confused with Will Ferrell's soccer-themed children's comedy (Um, that one has an ampersand? Hello?), this Gen-X coming of age comedy (the only one of its kind, *snicker, snicker*) has a group of post-collegiates dealing with their newfangled manhood and possible future, and lost, opportunities. Josh Hamilton plays the main character, a relatively wise, grounded lad, who has bid farewell to his longtime college sweetheart who flew off to Prague after graduation. He deals with his loneliness and bouts with self-worth silently as his friends, a particularly literate, yet terminally self-involved group that include a hyper-neurotic man-boy, an acerbic, defeatist wit (and not much else), a beer-swilling, long-haired ignoramus, and a 35 year-old local bartender who, with his decade or so years of college experience, acts out his sage-like role to largely unreceptive ears. The group drinks, banters, and, occasionally, romances, as they slowly take in the knowledge that they are now, finally, forced to put their superficially advanced intellects to the test.

Hamilton is the weak link here, but it is not due to his strengths (or weaknesses) as an actor; his character is basically a non-entity, continually flashing back to the past instead of focusing on the present, and only engaging with his buds in the guise of a snide comment or a self-deprecating quip. His romance with Olivia D'abo's (similarly abandoned by the script) character comes off as overly contrived and cute, rather than organic. It does nothing to advance the narrative, and, seeing where it ends up, only serves to prove certain points it could've easily relayed in the opening 20 or so minutes. With the central plot line being both vague and uninvolving, the film basically lives and dies based on its supporting players, which, in this case, are more than up to the challenge. Each character, while initially coming off as a caricature, has his own set of mannerisms, tendencies, and ideals, which the actors seem to be in tune with. While the pajama-wearing man-boy is the broadest, most easily likable character, his arc is fairly straightforward. More interesting are the consistently detached, objective sad sack who nevertheless prods into his buddies' affairs, the goofy, perennially clueless, drunken boyfriend, and the "wise," older bartender, played by Eric Stoltz in a scene-stealer of a role. Parker Posey and Elliot Gould are also effective in smaller roles, their familiarity failing to overshadow the less-prolific lead actors.

Aside from the lack of any real narrative thrust, there is also the issue of the tone of the film. This was Noah Baumbach's first film as a director, and his idealistic, inexperienced thinking towards direction shows in the mannered, almost stagy performances. Right off the bat, these do not seem like "real" people, but rather mid-90's indie caricatures, complete with dated hairstyles and formerly obscure interests, now commodified by the completionism of the internet. However, Baumbach, moreso here than in his other work, has a cohesive vision for the piece, and the whole film follows the example that he sets right from the getgo, rather than creating a hodgepodge of hyper-mannerred banter and casual, low-key naturalism that would have been grating (as it is in Margot at the Wedding and the worst parts of Greenberg). The dialogue follows suit, not sounding like any one talks in real-life, but rather how THESE characters would talk in these situations.

Recommended for fans of '90s-era growing-up comedies, such as the similar School Daze or Reality Bites, or of Eric Stoltz, who seems to have been in every smaller movie made around this time, yet still was able to make his character in this film memorable, hilarious, and distinctive, even amongst his eclectic career.

Long Day's Journey Into Night (1962)

Deep, haunting domestic melodrama about a moderately wealthy family on the verge of collapse, due to the son's progressing battle with tuberculosis, and the mother's resulting insanity and paranoia. The whole of the film takes place in their Connecticut cottage, where the mother, Mary, has secured herself in an attempt to keep reality at bay, and her delusions to run wild. Her primary concern, and reason for instability, is the gnawing thought that her youngest son is on the verge of death, but we learn, as the story progresses, that there are other causes for her troubles. The rest of the family stands idly by and watches its deterioration: the father, a stuffy, British actor, refuses to take any stand, save for coddling his wife and her delirious fantasies, and their other son is a lush, seemingly street-wise, yet completely awash in incompetence and self-pity. As the day goes on, their various tensions, concerns, and insecurities abound, and reveal themselves; while the action is moderately reigned in, there is no doubt that the events that transpire leave the characters remarkably haunted by the end.

This is an early film by the late, great Sidney Lumet, and it shows in his staging; rather than hide the fact that the film is a literal adaptation of the Eugene O'Neill play, he uses long takes and wide shots to keep the geography and physical dynamics of the play on full display, but is unafraid to cut from an all-encompassing wide to a stark, intimate close-up. The film is shot in magnificent black and white, and has that old Hollywood feel that complements the more confrontational, emotionally cutting dialogue well, particularly for Katherine Hepburn. Hepburn, perfectly utilizing her legendary star status, turns in a gut-wrenching, soulful performance as the haunted matriarch, simultaneously smiley and shaky as she searches for something, anything, that she can depend on or respect. While a section of the film puts her at the forefront when, I feel, her character would have served the story better from offscreen, the performance itself is flawless, and more indicative of her talents than more lightweight fare, like The Philadelphia Story. As her husband, Ralph Richardson is all early 20th-century bluster and panache, speaking constantly, but saying very little; his clearly stagey style is a teriffic contrast with the younger men in the family, played by Dean Stockwell and Jason Robards. Stockwell is haunting as the wide-eyed innocent playing it cynical, and we wait for him to fail in keeping up with his father's ignorant cynicism and lose his tenuous grip on sensibility. Robards could play his drunken louse in his sleep, but luckily, he brings his experience with the character (he played him on Broadway) to the table, giving the most raw, physical performance in the movie; you can almost smell the whiskey on his breath. O'Neill's mannerred dialogue becomes almost a hinderence to the film, as Lumet's style is far more contemporary and revealing than O'Neill's early 20th-century prose. O'Neill also leads the narrative into one or two dead ends, where nothing new is revealed, nothing relevant is reflected upon, and the characters stagnate, which, I'm sure, was more forgivable in 1940's theater than it was in 1960's cinema. However, the director, and the actors, are comfortable enough with the material that they intuitively relay O'Neill's ideas and motifs more successfully than the actual words he put in their mouths.

Recommended for fans of the cast, or of family-driven chamber dramas. It is comparable to Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf in its staginess, its amalgam of old and new aesthetics, and its emotional rawness, but it is the lesser film, and does not contain the remarkable, cohesive beauty of that work.

Fast Five (2011)

A big, loud, blast of a film, this series-best entry in the Fast and Furious franchise has the ex-cop Brian O'Conner and the street-race guru Dom Toretto seeking safety from the law (and a small fortune) in Rio de Janeiro. The opening is a hilarious, wordless escape scene showing O'Conner and his girl (and Dom's sis) Mia using their small speedsters to topple a prison bus; if this is too ridiculous and/or unsatisfying for you, you know to leave the theater by the time the words FAST FIVE appear on the screen. From there, the film begins on its loose, vaguely cliched narrative drive to get every significant cast member from the franchise down in Rio, including Tyrese and Ludacris from 2 Fast 2 Furious, Matt Schulze from the original, Dom's love interest from Fast and Furious and, most graciously, Sung Kang as Han from Tokyo Drift (in which he freaking dies halfway through, which doesn't keep him from appearing in the two following sequels). This is a huge advantage of this sequel, which both responds to the 4 previous entries that set it up as well as doing something with the series that makes this entry not only stand out, but surpass all its predecessors (I cannot state this enough, for this marks maybe the only franchise where the 5th installment is the best).

Unlike Fast & Furious, which had a good amount of long, torturous drama in between the racing scenes, this one keeps them coming (sigh) fast & furious...ly. The bonkers set pieces in the trailers are only the tip of the iceberg; one of my favorite scenes, an impromptu drag race outside of a police station, is not even hinted at in the promotional materials. While the dialogue scenes are not as flat and turgid as the previous installment, they are still a little bit corny, saved by the adeptness and chemistry of the cast (save for Paul Walker, who has yet to discover how to consistently bring that actor from Running Scared out to play), particularly Vin Diesel. This series became a HUGE moneymaker only after Diesel reentered the franchise, and its obvious why; his gravely voice and his lumbering physique, along with his expressive, emotive eyes make him a perfect protagonist for this manly, steel-and-chrome-fueled series. Thankfully, unlike Fast & Furious, he is not forced to run the show alone here, and has some great supporting faces to keep things interesting. Tyrese and Luda make a great comic duo, Sung Kang is as suave and savvy as ever, and Joaquim de Almeida provides a sleazy, detestable villain.

But let's not kid ourselves; the supporting cast member that really adds the icing on this souped-up, nitrous-powered cake is The Rock a.k.a. Dwayne Johnson a.k.a. the reason this movie just had the best opening day in April of all time. Goateed, tatted up, and even more bulky than he is usually, The Rock's dogged F.B.I. agent pursuing Dom and O'Conner is so tough, so devoted, and so surprisingly funny that not only does he immediately make the film more tense and interesting when he is on screen, but he has singlehandedly bought this franchise another entry or two after this one. Two scenes with him and Diesel, one a hand-to-hand fight scene, the other a rabble-rousing speech, are indicative of everything this old-school action series is capable of, and received raucous applause from the audience I saw it with. His presence in the film makes this not only the best Fast and the Furious film, but also probably the best flick the Rock has been in, period (ok, maybe I still prefer Southland Tales, but don't tell anyone).

Highly Recommended for action junkies and fans of Vin Diesel and The Rock. Wow it feels good to say that about a new movie. This one is truly impressive; from the first trailers, I have been continually wowed by how much higher they've raised the stakes for this franchise, and the film managed to exceed any expectations I had (my girlfriend's as well).

P.S. I may have liked the film even more had they retained Diesel's killer line from the trailer: "Chances are, sooner or later, we're gonna end up behind bars, or buried in a ditch somewhere...but not today."

Scream 4 (2011)

A treat for horror fans, this 10-years-later sequel follows up on main characters, Sidney, Dewey, and Claire, who all happen to be in Woodsboro when a copycat Ghostface killer begins capping off local teens. The opening 5 minutes immediately set the tone for the rest of the film, with a plethora of meta cross-referencing, self-consciously false scares, and envelope pushing, genuinely surprising kills. Kevin Williamson, returning to the franchise after letting Wes Craven and Ehren Kruger nearly ruin the franchise with the yuck-yuck ridden Scream 3, brings the self-awareness of the originals full-circle with the entire cast, rather than just Randy, being in on the joke; the film gets a lot of tension out of the potential victims never being quite sure whether they are truly being stalked or being pranked by someone homaging the "Stab" series (the within-the-film adaptations of the "true" events of Woodsboro). The trends in modern horror are acknowledged, with one scene name dropping the majority of recent horror remakes, and the characters constantly debating whether they are in a sequel or a reboot (Williamson gets a great moment out of the line "Number one rule about remakes...don't fuck with the original.") Every time my date (or I) jumped out of her seat, it reminded me just how good Wes Craven's work can be when he's on point; there are many, many genuine surprise moments in the film, and they never feel tacked on, cheap, or desperate.

Like the originals, this one has an all-B+-star cast. Aside from returning leads, Neve Campbell, David Arquette, and Courtney Cox (who looks, and acts, terribly), Hayden Panetierre, Emma Roberts, Rory Culkin, Marley Shelton, Alison Brie, Anthony Anderson, Adam Brody, and Mary MacDonnell all have moderate-to-central roles (Panetierre, Shelton, and, surprisingly, Anderson are the most memorable). However, one of the highest compliments I can pay this entry is that it affirms, finally, that Sidney is ostensibly the heart and soul of this franchise. There is a scene where she tells a bereaved character "You know how people always say they know how you feel when they don't? I know how you feel." It would not work if her performance as Sidney had not been consistently immediate and real since the first film, and because of Campbell's repeated dedication to a role many other actresses would blow off as genre fluff, that moment, and a number of others like it (not to mention the otherwise-contrived scene in Scream 3 where she discovers the movie set version of her childhood home) are touching in a way not seen in many teen-centric horror films. When she used to land a kick or punch into the killer, keeping him off her, we used to laugh at the killer's klutziness; now, we cheer for Sid's undying survival skills. The attention given to her character, along with the relative fun of the aloof local teens (the film geeks, while obvious and overplayed, get their fair share of zingers), raise the film above the level of, not only its direct predecessor, but of a good amount of the original horror films of the past decade.

My qualms with the film are few, and far between, and they are mostly concerned with the treatment of Gale Weathers, the vaguely "reshot" look of the final scenes, and some of the shoehorned in film geek banter (Panetierre's "wannabe" film geek gets more pathos and humor than the "real-deals"). The tone, the scares, the laughs, the acting, the cameos, and the buildup are all top-notch, and make this a genuine rarity: a decade-plus later sequel that manages to not only capture, but expand on, the themes of the original.

Recommended for fans of the Scream franchise, or of more self-aware, "meta" (the word gets thrown around a lot, in jest) horror films. I was worried that, after 14 years, Williamson's self-aware jargon would be tired, pathetic, and out-of-touch. I stand, very gladly, corrected.

What a Way To Go! (1964)

Packed, front-to-back, with old-school Hollywood glam, but ultimately hollow, this star-studded affair concerns a young heiress as she recalls, to a psychiatrist, the circumstances that led to the various deaths of her previous husbands. Shirley MacLaine plays the bereaved, but ditzy young woman, who we see progress from a young, naive farm girl to an endowed, but still innocent millionaire. In an early role, MacLaine is hilarious and adorable; while not conventionally attractive, she possesses a certain quirky earthiness that provides a sharp contrast with the traditionalism of her contemporaries (Elizabeth Taylor, Audrey Hepburn). However, due to the episodic nature of the film, the energy of the film is maintained only through the caliber of male co-stars they managed to dig up for MacLaine: her ill-fated husbands include Dick Van Dyke, Dean Martin, Paul Newman, Robert Mitchum, and Gene Kelly. They are all exemplary, highlighting various aspects and methods of attaining wealth, from Newman's anarchic, Pollack-esque artist to Robert Mitchum's big business executive. Newman and Martin fare the best with their zany, cartooney characters, while Kelly's sub-interesting throughline leaves him with little more than his quick feet to work with.

Aside from a co-star, each sequence gets a specific interlude where, in a musical montage, we see how MacLaine's character has encapsulated these relationships in her mind. For example, Dick Van Dyke's clumsy schlub gets a goofy, black and white silent-film bit, while Mitchum's penthouse provides the stage for a fashion show for Edith Head's phenomenally larger-than-life costumes. Director J. Lee Thompson has the most fun in these scenes, which are far more ironic and meta than many of the sillier, but equally gaudy '60s Hollywood vanity pics. However, in the end, the episodic nature, and the unfortunate positioning of Kelly's sequence as the sendoff, keep the energy of the film from going full speed, and keeps it as, merely, a gorgeous, but hollow postcard to a lost era in big-budget, production design-heavy Hollywood filmmaking.

Slightly Recommended for fans of the cast or really absurdly lavish and busy Technicolor Hollywood musicals of the '50s and '60s. There are a couple of truly memorable set pieces and musical numbers here; too bad they are not wrapped around with something more thematically ambitious.

Operation: Endgame (2010)

Half funny, fresh comedy, half hackneyed, thrown together DTV dreck centering around two cooperating groups of assassins turned on each other by their superiors. The whole fucking film takes place in their underground HQ, and the cheapness of the production does not do it any favors; this is one project that would have benefited from a big-budget, Get Smart-esque treatment. The action scenes are well-executed, but clearly contained and shortchanged. And the central love story, between a fresh new recruit and his former flame, now a Mata Hari named Temptress (the codenames in this movie are broad and pointless), is indicative of the half-assed emotional manipulation typical of z-grade productions. Which is a shame, because the cast here is actually very talented, and very game. Comedy pros like Jeffery Tambor, Michael Hitchcock, Bob Odenkirk, Adam Scott, and Zach Galifinakis (in a shorter-than-advertised role) tone their respective schticks down a bit while decidedly non-comic actors such as Ving Rhames, Emilie De Ravin, and Ellen Barkin have a blast with their over-the-top characters. But the saving grace of this movie, and one that does not allow me to regret watching the film for one second, is Rob Cordry. As the raging alcoholic head of one of the agencies (a gun-shaped flask is permanently stapled to his hand), Cordry provides further evidence (along with Harold and Kumar 2) that he was born to play this type of role, cussing, drinking, and fighting with the same zeal and dedication he brought to the much bigger-budgeted Hot Tub Time Machine earlier this year. I was skeptical of his career in film, but his performance here, which basically holds the movie up on his shoulders (until he croaks oh snap *SPOILER* then the movie goes pretty much into unwatchable territory) makes me think he could sustain a leading man gig for the entirety of a running time; I may have to seek out that paintball flick I saw him on the cover of years ago (Blackballed I believe it's called...probably ass).

Slightly Recommended for fans of ramshackle DTV comedy and the terrific cast. This is definitely best seen (and, honestly, possibly made for) on a late night, uncut Comedy Central broadcast, or in a double feature with Harold and Kumar: Escape from Guantanamo Bay (which was supposed to be DTV, but proved to be just too damn good).

Short Cuts (1993)

A masterful, kaleidoscopic vision of L.A. from Robert Altman, in the vein of Nashville. Like Nashville, this film completely justifies all the praise that is directed towards it; both films are perfect examples of Altman's ability to juggle storylines in such a way that the film is, in the end, a pastiche, but a very distinct and poignant one nonetheless. The stories reveal snapshots of the lives of several L.A. denizens over the course of a few days. To describe the particulars of the stories here would do them a disservice; the main joy of the film is the natural, human ways the tales play themselves out. The cast is among the best of any film I've ever seen, period, and they all turn in memorable work in their short screen time; Robert Downey, Jr., Tim Robbins, Anne Archer, Jack Lemmon, Julianne Moore, and Lily Tomlin are among the myriad of faces that create distinct, fully-fleshed characters seemingly out of thin air. Much of the film was improvised, which makes me credit much of the watchability of the long, ambitious film to the actors. The film resembles Magnolia in its location, running time, and broad outline, but that's all; the tone here is more ambivalent and detached than tragically bemused. The score, jazzy and loose, is terrifically appropriate, giving the film a leisurely vibe that allows the drama to come across very naturally and organically.

Highly Recommended. Altman was known for this type of film, but this and Nashville remain the crowning achievements of this interwoven, low-key style. I still prefer the Long Goodbye in terms of sheer personality and revisionism (it remains my favorite noir I've ever seen), but this and Nashville are the perfect examples of Altman's famed aesthetic.