Take Five
By George Rose
August 11, 2009
BoxOfficeProphets.com
Usually this intro is reserved for commentary on the week's latest releases and is then followed by five recommendations. While I'm in Greece, the formula is for me to "take five" minutes to reflect on my trip and then watch five new films that I have never seen and review them. Lucky you - you're privy to my mess of a life without having to suffer the consequences.
Here is the scene. I am in Greece, having been here for one month with another on the horizon. My family has been here with me for a week. I was alone for the three weeks prior, pretending to date a girl. I am not attracted to women but have been dating this girl because she has awesome friends and a car, a car that has taken me to many of the exciting villages on the island of Chios. Chios is a third world island with old school ideals. Gayness is not tolerated, so I lie about who I am for the sake of a constant party. I am a bad person who deserved to be punished. Karma has caught up with me.
My family saved me from the fate of having to lead this girl on any longer. They have been here for a week and it has been amazing. Last night (July 29, 2009) was the biggest night of them all because my Uncle Max, who owns the most popular bar on the Komi beach strip, called Kohili Bar, was having an open bar night to honor his daughter's birthday. I was aware of this fact and decided not to drink the night before to give my liver the break it would need to fully take advantage of a night full of free booze. Top shelf liquor was included.
Since I was resting up the day before, I had the chance to reread one of my favorite books, Dry by Augusten Burroughs. The memoir is about his struggle with alcoholism and the loss of one of the men he loved, who died from HIV. It is heartbreaking yet hilarious because Burroughs is a wonderfully witty writer. The saddest part about rereading this book is that it reminds me of the time I met him in person during a book signing, back when I was in college in Boston. Beside me at the reading was my ex. After finishing the book I felt compelled to call him.
Burroughs pushed away the man he loved after that man rejected him. Then the man became ill and asked Burroughs to love him again, but he simply couldn't. It was hard enough getting over him the first time and he didn't want to lose him again, a fate that was inevitable as a result of the disease. I wanted to call my ex, a man who once begged me to forgive him and help him through issues of his own, and make sure that he was okay. If my inability to forgive him was in any way responsible for whatever current crisis he might be facing right now, I would be devastated. Yes, gays are dramatic and think like 12-year-old girls when it comes to relationships, but I couldn't help it. Since the phone in our house was occupied each of the two times I tried using it, I took it as a sign from God that I should not call him and I didn't. If I wasn't such a believer in signs I might have been able to prevent a horrific mistake in the future. Or maybe I just shouldn't binge drink the way Americans college students are programmed to.
My family and I all arrived at the bar at 11:00 p.m., all 12 of the siblings, cousins, the cousins' friends. We are the dirty dozen Americans and we are related to the bar owner, a bar so beautiful that it makes you wish every nightclub in the US were outdoors and surrounded by straw umbrellas. The breeze keeps you cool and there is an endless clear sky of stars. The sky is breathtaking. It's like you're standing on the stage of life and the entire audience is taking pictures of you. I feel like a rock star and I'm ready to party.
The memories of the night end after the 12th drink and sixth shot. My engine is filled with the gasoline of feeling like a celebrity and the self loathing that comes with reflecting on your first failed love. I'm a bipolar mess and I can't remember a darned thing after all that free liquor. My siblings informed me today that I fell asleep on the beach. They told me to go home but instead I ran off. They stayed an hour longer, half enjoying the party and half fearing that I was drowning somewhere in the ocean. When they returned home, they found me sleeping on the driveway like a bum. My Red Sox hat was feet away from me and my sandals were nowhere in sight. I had a cut on my right foot and a large scrape on my right elbow. I don't remember falling or how I got home. When they shake me to wake me up and ask how I got back, all I can tell them is, "I'm awesome, that's how!" They find it funny to take pictures of me and I struggled to say, "Hey, don't... don't do... I'm awesome!"
I am not awesome. As an aspiring writer, it has become a habit of mine to have a voice recorder handy. This morning, when I woke up, I noticed that it was not in the drawer where I have been keeping it. Instead, it was on top of my signed copy of Dry. I turn it on and see that there is one recording, from the night before, that lasts for ten minutes. I push play. I hear the dialing of a phone. Oh no. It sounds as though I've dialed the wrong number because there is a pause, and then more dialing. This happens twice. Since I believe in signs I decide that this is God's way of telling me NOT TO DRUNK DIAL, but when my mind is set on something, like getting home alone when I'm blackout drunk in a third world country, I do it. Then the conversation begins.
There is drunken laughter from me that sounds like a mix between a bout of hiccups and a donkey fighting off a predator. I'm already mortified. I'm guessing my ex told me I was drunk and to call him another time, because I say "Shut up. SHUT UP! I'm not drunk... it's normal to be drunk here at this time... it's okay... is ooookaaaaaay... SHUT UP!" I turned off the recorder and held my hand over my mouth. There are nine minutes left to the recording and I cannot bear to hear them. But I can't help but wonder, what is on the rest of that recording? I pray to God that it's me crying because my ex hung up the phone, but after all the signs of His that I ignored, I bet He's not listening to my prayers.
Instead of doing what I probably should do, which is call and apologize or listen to the rest of the recording to be fully informed, I cower and do nothing. Well, I don't do nothing, but I sure don't do any of the things I could do. I do what I always do when I realize I screwed up and am too ashamed to clean up the mess. I stay in and watch a movie, hoping it will cure me and teach me a new lesson. It sure won't fix the situation, which I'll have to face eventually, but movies are my only real addiction and I need a quick fix NOW. Would an alcoholic pass up on a night of drinking so he could stay in, reflect and spend time with his family watching a movie? I'm not sure, but I hope somewhere in the world Burroughs finds his way to Box Office Prophets, reads this article and is proud to know he is a huge part of the lives of his fans. This is for Augusten Burroughs, the man who inspired me to become a writer and quite possibly the reason behind last night's drunk dial. If only HE had sent me a sign.
Role Models (2008) – watched/written July 30, 2009
What a coincidence, right? I should be the one sent to do 150 hours of community service for disrupting the peace, not Danny (Paul Rudd) and Wheeler (Seann William Scott). Well, maybe not. I only did a drunk dial. While working as spokesmen for a new energy drink at high schools in the area, they crash their company truck onto school property. And damage the tow truck trying to collect their car. And inform the students of the school that drugs are cool and that their product is poison. This all happens because Danny's girlfriend – Beth (Elizabeth Banks), a lawyer – dumps him for being an angry pessimist, as a result of living an unfulfilled life. I guess my situation isn't so bad after all. See, movies make everything better!
Not only does the movie make me feel better, it has me laughing more frequently than most of the "comedies" released these days. Paul Rudd delivers deadpan humor with ease and Sean Scott gets more hilarious the older he gets, even if he is playing the same sex-obsessed character here as he did in the American Pie trilogy. These two are perfect as the sarcastic "good suit" salesman (Danny) and the thoughtless "bad pervert" mascot (Wheeler). Tie them in with the always enjoyable Elizabeth Banks, and you have a cast that makes me overlook such screenwriting forced plot points as having Beth be the boys' lawyer. Only in Hollywood would the lawyer break up with the buffoon just before he gets into legal trouble, preventing her from moving away and giving him the opportunity to win her back.
Winning her back shouldn't be too hard because their sentence is to be "big brother" to a couple of young kids at an organization called Sturdy Wings. Women love kids and it figures Danny's cold heart would eventually become melted by them. It's only a matter of time before he is really, truly ready to be the devoted partner that Beth needs. If it weren't for the laugh-out-loud interactions between Danny and Wheeler, the story might be too cliché to stomach. I'm not a fan of kids, so the prospect of their involvement had me nervous. Have faith, George, this is an R-rated movie, I remind myself. They won't be your average kids.
Surprisingly, I was right! Wheeler's "little brother" is Ronnie, a young black boy with a mouth that would make a drunken sailor blush, and an affinity for breasts. Of course he would be paired with Wheeler. Again, this predictable moment is overlooked because of just how funny Ronnie and Wheeler are together. Or maybe it's just because how often the child curses. I enjoy hearing a kid curse just as much as I like seeing him steal his big brother's car and sucker-slap him. Danny, on the other hand, is paired with a much tamer geek of a child. Augie (Christopher Mintz-Plasse) wears a cape and practices his sword-fighting skills for L.A.I.R.E., a medieval fighting tournament. The geek and the suit also seem like a forced pairing by the screenwriters, but it is again overlooked since the ringleader of Sturdy Wings, Sweeny, is played by Jane Lynch. Maybe it wasn't the screenwriters but her character that set these pairs up on purpose, but, really, how could she have known so much about the men in advance to do so? It doesn't matter, because Lynch's "recovered coke-and-sex-addict" routine is done with such perfect timing it makes me wish she were more of an A-list actress. Or my partner in crime when going out.
After non-stop laughs throughout (I won't give examples because you'll want to see them for yourself), the films falls back into the predictable rom-com formula: just before completing the 150 hours, they screw up (go figure), are threatened with being sent to jail, have to redeem themselves to the kids and prove they are more than just court-ordered friendships (uh huh), and ends with Beth discovering that Danny really is passionate and upbeat after all. Awww. If it wasn't all so humorous, I might have thought less, but this movie is one flawed relationship I'm smart enough forgive before it's too late.
Overall Rating: B
Blazing Saddles (1974) – watched/written August 3, 2009
It seems to be in the nature of a child to disregard the advice of their parents. When my parents said, "you should break up with that guy because he cheated," I decided to continue dating him. When they said, "you should watch Blazing Saddles because it's a classic," I ignored them. Seeing now that they may have been right about my ex, I figured I'd give their advice another shot. Heck, they aren't the only ones that say Blazing Saddles is a comedy classic, so how wrong could they be?
Pretty wrong. The opening credits roll and you see the name Mel Brooks and Gene Wilder, which immediately heightened my anticipation. The creator of Spaceballs and star of Willy Wonka should lead to a classic, despite its Western setting (which I am generally not a fan of). The film starts with a group of African and Chinese men building a railroad, as ordered upon them by their white employers. One of the main gags in the movie is to call these black men the N-word, which is more uncomfortable than entertaining. The Westerners shoot the word as often as they shoot their guns aimlessly into the sky or saloons. Pointlessly firing either weapon makes me hate this time period more. We come to find out that the railroad cannot be completed because of quicksand blocking its path and the only other option is to send it through a nearby town called Rock Ridge.
In an effort to scare away the citizens, the governor (Mel Brooks) is conned into sending one of the black laborers to become the town's new sheriff. Okay, fine, Mel Brooks always plays the near-mentally-challenged character in high power (he was the evil ruler in Spaceballs), but this time he plays the part with... crossed eyes? He's the director, so there is nobody to blame for this annoyance but him. Why he finds it funny to have his characters be blatant buffoons is beyond me. Not funny-stupid, just plain stupid. Gags include bumping heads and the inability to play with a rubber ball attached to a paddle. The eight-year-olds in Role Models are funnier and, quite frankly, are better actors.
The town of Rock Ridge is apprehensive of the new black sheriff. If you can't tell from their frequent use of the N-word, then you aren't picking up on the obvious ways in which Brooks tries to convey this message. And what better way to cover up this lack of subtlety than to add more gags about people getting hit on the head, old women being impossibly aggressive, and a group of rowdy cowboys eating beans, which leads to a symphony of farting. Was 1974 really so boring that everyone found this movie hilarious enough that it would become deemed a classic and nominated for three Academy Awards? This is why I don't watch "classics." Because they are classic to a period in time. Rarely do they hold up and bring the same joy to the present that they once did.
One redeeming quality of the film is Jim (Gene Wilder), the fastest shooter in the world who is now a raging drunk. His relationship with the sheriff, Bart (Cleavon Little), is both sweet and funny, mainly because it has what the movie lacks so much of: subtlety. Gene gives the most restrained performance of the film, which makes me care about what he's doing. Together, he and Bart successfully plot genuinely funny ways to deter the advances of the corrupt political figures trying to profit from the abandonment of Rock Ridge. This middle-third of the movie is the best, and is the only thing saving it from receiving the D-grade I had in mind based on the beginning.
But just when this compelling, yet poorly executed, plot seems to be on the rise to a C-grade, Brooks breaks reality. A group of criminals (Mexicans and the KKK, of course) is gathered to destroy the town. The final action sequence doesn't just have the angry mob and citizens battle past the limits of the town, though. They break out into... the dessert? No, out to a Hollywood studio lot, onto the set of a gay musical. While the N-word may not have personally offended me (though it did bother me plenty), every gay character did. Not a single one of them showed any ounce of masculinity, all flailing around like helpless ballerinas. Leave it to Hollywood to project false, negative stereotypes. By "breaking the boundaries" or race, reality and sexuality, Blazing Saddles became too distracted from the core of the film, the parts which could have made for a classic Western comedy: Jim and Bart. Just before the film ends, with the pair finding their way to a screening of the Blazing Saddles movie, the main antagonist says, "taxi, drive me off this picture." With a sigh of disappointment, I tell myself, now that's advice that should be taken.
Overall Rating: C-
Snatch. (2001) – watched/written August 5, 2009
Because my brother and sister are leaving Greece in a few days I figured I'd let them pick the next movie. My brother chose Snatch., a film I've heard plenty of. Since the friends of mine who own it always give me crap about not having seen it, I spite them by refusing to watch it. My brother, always the Greek gentlemen, was more encouraging than pretentious (as fans of the film tend to be when they encounter those who haven't seen it), so I gave in to his request. This, as it would turn out, was mostly a blessing.
Movies like this are hard to review, especially after having only seen it once. The plot is all over the place, and full of twists and turns. If it were possible to stuff this movie into a nutshell you'd be offered this: an 84-carot diamond is stolen by Franky Four Fingers and his merry gang of dressed-up Hasidic Jews, and everyone in England wants a piece of it. Franky trusts the wrong people, namely a partner of his who is trying to have the diamond stolen off of him after he lands in London. There wouldn't be a film if this all went down smoothly, so naturally there are complications. Enter two competing crime bosses, a band of gypsies, a few misinformed thugs, several diamond dealers, and some underground fighting and you have the loose pieces of this plot.
This is one of those movies that is easier to review as a sum of the parts rather than the whole. When the whole is such a fast-paced jumble of scenes, strewn together in barely comprehensible Irish and UK English dialect, you have to break it down into bits. Don't get me wrong, though the editing is fast, it's appropriate for the film and keeps you on your toes. It just makes it a bit tough for first-time viewers trying to take it all in. Most of the plot makes sense but towards the end things got a little sloppy. I lose a bit of interest when movies rely on animals for plot points. Call me cynical, but I don't think a dog needs to eat a diamond to help the story. There just has to be another way!
Negative criticism aside, the acting is unbelievable. From the names you know (Benicio Del Toro, Jason Statham, Brad Pitt, Vinnie Jones, etc.) to all the unfamiliar supporting characters, everyone feels as though they were born to fill these roles. Brad Pitt's Mickey, a gypsy boxer, is the biggest diversion from his regular self among the crew. Though I could only understand a fraction of what he was saying, he kept me hooked every time he swaggered onto the screen, so much so that I was too interested in what his character was doing to care that he took his shirt off.
While they cast deserves their credit, there cannot be such universally stellar acting unless there is an equally talented puppet master directing their reigns. No longer do I look at Guy Ritchie as the former Mr. Madonna, but as a man who is better off without the dead weight that dragged down one of his other films, Swept Away. Without her annoyance he can return to the acclaim that was once bestowed upon him with films like Snatch. I eagerly await his next project, Sherlock Holmes, coming out this Winter, and am excited to review his other acclaimed work, Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, before my departure from Greece. Don't make the same mistake I did and pass on the suggestion to see Snatch. Some advice is not worth spiting.
Overall Rating: B+
Lord of War (2005) – watched/written on August 5, 2009
Tonight's plans fell through, and tomorrow there is another festival in a nearby village, so my brother and I decided to watch another movie today and rest our livers. Since many of the DVDs I borrowed from my friend are, shall we say "borrowed" as well (cough cough burned discs with sticker labels on top cough cough), my computer has been overheating (from the thick labels) and freezing up. To avoid such interruptions, I'm now trying to watch only the legitimate DVDs. One of them is Lord of War. It's appropriate since the movie is about illegal arms trading. Though I have no weapons, I'm not sure the MPAA would approve of the DVD case I'm carrying around.
Nicolas Cage stars as Yuri Orlav, a man trying to make a not-so-honest living selling guns. The beginning of the movie follows his early rise into becoming a dealer, along with his younger brother Vitaly (Jared Leto). It's entertaining at first as we learn about the gun trade, especially with Yuri's narration which is full of clever plays-on-words. With Leto, you feel this might rise above B-movie boredom and dabble into a character piece with insight into real global concerns. By the time Ava (Bridget Moynahan), a super model and the future Mrs. Yuri Orlav, and the predictable pesky agent (Ethan Hawke) come along, you realize this is just a much less interesting version of Blow, albeit with guns instead of cocaine and Nic Cage instead of Johnny Depp. Neither swap is beneficial to the final product.
I had hoped for more, given the cast, but the movie was far too long for its own good. At around two hours, it could have been bumped up a whole letter grade if the second act were cut out all together. Even director Andrew Niccol seemed to have given up entirely by the end. Maybe it was the weak script, but I think even cliché characters like the drugged-up younger brother, the miserable pampered wife and the too-good-to-work-outside-the-law agent deserve better than being shot to death, walking out of the house just as the phone rings for help, and the inability to convict the criminal because of a corrupt government. Like the movie's length, everything that makes it up is just so played out. My brother and I were writing this script just before it was all happening.
Instead we were offered declining narration that was overloaded with alliteration ("catalogue of carnage"? Yaaaaawn) and a montage after Yuir snorts some bad Brown Brown (cocaine mixed with gun powder). A kid without an arm! Yuri sleeps with a hooker! Hyenas! Is the high over yet? The entire two hours was like the intro to Iron Man, a much better movie that realized a story like this only requires twenty minutes to tell. Sadly, its effect was closer to Cage's boring Ghost Rider. I would have rather forced myself to go out tonight and make another drunk dial mistake than watch this letdown of a movie. Well, maybe not, but there's always the festival tomorrow for that to happen.
Overall Rating: D+
The Machinist (2004) – watched/written August 8, 2009
As it turns out, I was able to refrain from making any calls at the festival the other night. I'm sure you were all rooting for another misadventure and I'm sorry to disappoint. However, my entire family has now left Greece and I am alone again, which means I'll probably continue "dating" the cougar until I leave in four weeks. She has a car and awesome friends, two things I'll ignore my conscience to have. I know it's probably wrong to lead this woman on, but I've only been alone again for one day and I already feel like I'm going crazy. It would only be a matter of time before I start creating imaginary friends, so I've convinced myself that I'm at doing the right thing, at least as far as my sanity is concerned.
In my lonely state, I started to reflect. I remembered the days before Terminator Salvation when I liked Christian Bale (American Psycho, anyone?). The actor with wide range gave me no reason not to like him, until he got all high-and-mighty on the T4 set and cursed out a crew member. Isn't that the director's job? Sorry, I forgot for a moment that I'm supposed to sympathize with the stressed-out rich and famous. Poor celebrities, they have it so tough, we should allow them to treat others like crap because... well... we like stalking them in gossip magazines. But then I realized, everyone makes mistakes. I drunk dial and Bale has Turrets, and both of us deserve a second chance. T4 wasn't the worst movie of the summer and I'm not going to pretend Dark Knight was anything but amazing just because Bale can be a jerk sometimes. And what better way for Bale to redeem himself than by watching him in The Machinist?
Wow, that man can act. Not only can he act, he can starve himself down to a meager 115 pounds for the sake of a role. In this film, he plays an insomniac named Trevor who hasn't slept in over a year and has withered away, both physically and mentally, in the process. At first he just seems quiet and reserved, but still genuinely nice. This is a version of him you can sympathize with and I did, so much so that it pained me to see him slowly tumble into insanity. His sweet interactions with Marie (Aitana Sanchez-Gijon), a diner waitress at a nearby airport, and Stevie (Jennifer Jason Lee), a hooker, lead you to believe he's just insecure. And why shouldn't he be? You can see his ribcage and spine every time he takes his shirt off!
While the insomnia and weight loss have been occurring for one year, you're somewhat led to believe the industrial worker finally loses his mind after he gets a coworker of his seriously injured. The responsibility of such an accident would drive me crazy, and it's after this that you're taken on the wild ride that is his mind. He begins losing his friends, his job, gets into trouble with the law, breaks his hooker-girlfriend's heart, creates an imaginary friend/nemesis, and even goes so far as to throw himself into oncoming traffic. All of it is wildly compelling, except for his imaginary friend, Ivan, the only downside to the film. He's not so much ominous as he is a bit annoying. The direction, screenwriting and editing are all so well done, that it seems a travesty that the casting department picked John Sharian. I supposed he does the job of appearing creepy just fine but he just felt out of place. Maybe he just spoke too much because I enjoyed Bale's madness more whenever Ivan wasn't around.
Bale's sanity becomes such thin ice that you can't help but watch the movie with a painful nervous tension. At any moment he could hurt someone and it's a huge, shocking relief when he doesn't. Rarely does a movie without special effects have me so far up on the edge of my seat. And then comes the ending, which explains the real reason why his downward spiral began in the first place. I didn't even realize during the hour and a half before it that they were dropping hints the whole time. Here I thought they were showing the aftermath of his breakdown when the reason was really being revealed to us from the start. It all seemed so obvious and yet it was such a great twist that I lost my own mind for a moment and forget why I ever disliked Bale. I may have done a drunk dial and I may ignore so much of the advice given to me, but The Machinist reminded me that second chances are possible and that Bale really is one of a kind. Redemption is even possible for his character because, in the end, he sleeps.
Overall Rating: A-
*Check back in two weeks on August 25th for the next Take Five from Greece!