The Cinemasochist takes a look at movies that have been
notoriously rejected by the mass populace, and tells you if you might
perchance be missing a classic. Or not.
If The Artist really does fulfill its promise of bringing the silent picture back to the American cinema, Zack Snyder will be the first director I'll be eager to see make one. Snyder is a master at telling a story with images. His prologue and opening credits sequence for Watchmen were fascinating and set up everything we needed to know for the film, with very little dialogue. The film became less compelling as the storytelling became hamfisted, but the first twenty minutes contains some of the most memorable film images in recent years.
The same can be said for Sucker Punch, which begins with a masterstroke of a prologue. It tells a story in itself, completely free of dialogue, using only montage and images. If it were released in the 1920s, it would be praised as an expressionist masterpiece. This silent sequence proves that Snyder is a born silent film director. The talkie film that follows, unfortunately, proves the same.
But still, what an opener. We meet Babydoll (Emily Browning), a young girl who's just lost her mother. Her wiley stepfather (Gerard Plunkett) is upset at not being included in the will, and after a series of unfortunate events he has Babydoll locked away in a mental institution. At this early point in the film, Snyder has established character, status, and conflict as succinctly as the best directors of the silent era.
Once we get to the mental hospital, the movie goes off the rails and keeps chugging. When Babydoll is committed, we learn that she's going to be lobotomized in five days. She then retreats into a fantasy world in which the hospital is a high-class brothel where the female inmates dance and seduce rich people. The psychiatrist (Carla Gugino) is the madam, the orderly (Oscar Isaac) is the pimp, and the fellow inmates (Jena Malone, Abbie Cornish, Jamie Chung, Vanessa Hudgens) are fellow prostitutes. But that's not all: whenever Babydoll dances, she goes into a further sub-fantasy, where she and the girls dress as soldiers and fight dragons, under the command of a mysterious leader (Scott Glenn, aping David Carradine).
The '70s were rife with an exploitation subgenre known as the rape-revenge movie, in which formerly helpless girls took righteous revenge on the beastly men who attacked them, and the movie was generally just as interested in watching the poor girl get savaged as in depicting her rapists' retribution.
Sucker Punch is a step down from that: it's a rape-run-and-hide movie. Though it's toned down to a PG-13 level, it's still morbidly fascinated with watching its team of girls get emotionally and physically abused by men, whether it be by the stepfather, the lecherous pimp, or a lobotomist (Jon Hamm, in a desperate cameo). But rather than glorious bloody revenge, the characters' triumph is in retreating into their minds.
I have always had a problem with movies that find their victory in the magic of imagination. Though one or two have done it right (Tarsem Singh's brilliant The Fall is an example), most are condescending and insulting (Marc Forster's insipid yet somehow Best Picture-nominated Finding Neverland being the most insidious culprit). Sucker Punch is a few steps more tragic: the idea that any victim of abuse should find any sort of victory by retreating into fantasy is absurd and, when you think about it, extremely sexist. Though it fancies itself a girl-power flick, what with its battle scenes of chicks decked out in army gear and kicking ass, Sucker Punch is firmly on the side of the attacker: when you're abused, the thing to do is deal with it yourself, in your own mind, without bothering anyone.
Even aside from that distressing implication, Sucker Punch is a story poorly told. The fantasy-within-fantasy motif, which must have been modeled on Inception, might just as well have been ditched. If the brothel scenes are predictable and dull, the battle scenes are completely devoid of any stakes or any connection to the story. There are a lot of explosions, but what's being achieved is never quite clear. Compare it to Inception, in which each level of reality has an effect on the other, and a bullet fired in one reality creates the stakes for the next.
The cast of girls is interchangeable. They're a talented group of actors, especially Cornish, who starred as Fanny Brawne in the fine John Keats biopic Bright Star, and deserves better. Browning, so good in the underrated ghost flick The Uninvited, is given little to do as the movie explodes around her. The only actor allowed to make an impression is Isaac, who as the film's primary villain eats up the scenery and spits it out violently. Jon Hamm, who doubles as the hospital's lobotomist and (in Jiminy Glick makeup) a rich customer at the brothel, must be on a quest to prove that he can cameo in everything.
It doesn't help that the film is plastered with wall-to-wall bad covers of classic rock songs. The most egregious is Yoav's gutting of the Pixies' "Where is My Mind," though the eardrum-bursting rendition of "White Rabbit" that plays through one battle scene is formidable competition. For a saving grace, Browning does a quite nice version of "Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)" which plays over the prologue. And as a nice touch, the movie prominently uses Bjork's "Army of Me," which makes for a great revenge anthem.
This is Snyder's first film based on an original script (which he wrote with Steve Shibuya). He struggles with coming up with his own conceits; he's excelled mainly with finding ways to translate other works to the screen. Building stories into images is his talent; here he comes up empty. If the film had only consisted of the first ten minutes, it would have been a masterpiece. As it is, Sucker Punch is a discouragement to abuse victims everywhere, disguised as a pointless, endless, loud mess.
* out of ****
Is it really that bad?: It's worse.
Pain level: Excepting the first ten minutes, high.
Showing posts with label cinemasochist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cinemasochist. Show all posts
Monday, July 2, 2012
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
THE CINEMASOCHIST: Ghost Dad (1990)
The Cinemasochist takes a look at movies that have been notoriously rejected by the mass populace, and tells you if you might perchance be missing a classic. Or not.
Ghost Dad assembles a top-notch cast, some of Hollywood’s best screenwriters, Sidney Poitier (yes, Sidney Poitier) behind the camera, and America’s greatest father figure, all in the service of a premise that is completely grotesque. I shudder to think what Hollywood executive dreamed it up and thought it was a good idea. It certainly cannot have been Cosby or Poitier, who seem far to cheerful to invent something so morose. Nor could it have been writers S.S. Wilson and Brent Maddock, who seem to be trying to wring all they can from this unfortunate story. Whoever invented it must be a sad, lonely person who has trained himself to deal with misery by laughing at it.
The notion of Bill Cosby playing a ghost isn’t in itself so bad. One can imagine mining some comedy from Cosby getting stuck between worlds and trying to make his way around.
But, well... okay, let me put it this way. You’re one of the children in this film. Your mom passed away a few years earlier, and your dad (Bill Cosby) has been struggling to raise you and your two siblings ever since. He’s a few days away from securing a new promotion that will make things a whole lot easier. And then he shows up one afternoon and explains to you that he’s been killed in a car accident, and is now a ghost.
I know--barrel of laughs, right?
Of course, humor can always be found in the gallows, but that is not the kind of movie that Ghost Dad seems to want to be. It wants to be a silly family comedy. We’re even treated to a scene where Ghost Cosby, unable to communicate with his children, develops a goofy game of charades to explain to them that he’s a ghost. We see the children take delight in playing the guessing game, and then we see their faces drop when they figure it out.
Hold on--my sides are splitting.
So what we have is a silly comedy in which three kids are on the verge of being orphaned. The movie avoids the real gravity of the situation by progressing from set-piece to set-piece without much thought. Ghost Dad has to go on a date. Ghost Dad messes around with daughter’s stupid boyfriend. Ghost Dad needs to go get a physical. The most befuddling is the show-and-tell sequence, in which Cosby’s son gets on his case about helping him with a magic trick.
Hello? Kid, your dad is dead. Forget about the magic trick and cry or something. That the kids do not quite grasp what has happened to their father makes the movie even sadder.
The movie is competently made. Cosby is much more at home here than in the dismal Leonard Part 6. The role of a hapless father trying to keep his family together suits him quite well, and he even wrings a few funny moments out of trying to parent from beyond the grave. I must admit that I laughed at a scene in which he is forced to undergo a physical, which he manages to do quite believably (with the help of Arnold Stang--yes, Arnold Stang). The usually reliable Ian Bannen appears as a scientist named Edith, and the fact that his name is Edith is one of many jokes that the movie insists is very funny.
It should be mentioned--spoiler alert!--that the Cosby character is thankfully not really dead, and he finds a way to put himself back in his body and reunite with his family, and the movie has a happy ending. This is a relief. There is absolutely no way to accept a version of this movie where the character actually dies, and where the kids grieve for their father in a normal way. Such a movie would be tragic, and to try to make it into a comedy would be unconscionable.
Though Ghost Dad is a bit more bearable than Leonard Part 6, they share one thing in common: both are films that fall prey to a premise that is completely unworkable. There may be a way to make a movie about a dad who dies and comes back as a ghost to set things right for his children, but it would have to be somber and honest and not the fun fest that this film wants to be.
* 1/2 out of ****
Is it really that bad?: It's not completely devoid of humor.
Pain level: Fairly low, rising to intermediate whenever the young children are involved.
Ghost Dad assembles a top-notch cast, some of Hollywood’s best screenwriters, Sidney Poitier (yes, Sidney Poitier) behind the camera, and America’s greatest father figure, all in the service of a premise that is completely grotesque. I shudder to think what Hollywood executive dreamed it up and thought it was a good idea. It certainly cannot have been Cosby or Poitier, who seem far to cheerful to invent something so morose. Nor could it have been writers S.S. Wilson and Brent Maddock, who seem to be trying to wring all they can from this unfortunate story. Whoever invented it must be a sad, lonely person who has trained himself to deal with misery by laughing at it.
The notion of Bill Cosby playing a ghost isn’t in itself so bad. One can imagine mining some comedy from Cosby getting stuck between worlds and trying to make his way around.
But, well... okay, let me put it this way. You’re one of the children in this film. Your mom passed away a few years earlier, and your dad (Bill Cosby) has been struggling to raise you and your two siblings ever since. He’s a few days away from securing a new promotion that will make things a whole lot easier. And then he shows up one afternoon and explains to you that he’s been killed in a car accident, and is now a ghost.
I know--barrel of laughs, right?
Of course, humor can always be found in the gallows, but that is not the kind of movie that Ghost Dad seems to want to be. It wants to be a silly family comedy. We’re even treated to a scene where Ghost Cosby, unable to communicate with his children, develops a goofy game of charades to explain to them that he’s a ghost. We see the children take delight in playing the guessing game, and then we see their faces drop when they figure it out.
Hold on--my sides are splitting.
So what we have is a silly comedy in which three kids are on the verge of being orphaned. The movie avoids the real gravity of the situation by progressing from set-piece to set-piece without much thought. Ghost Dad has to go on a date. Ghost Dad messes around with daughter’s stupid boyfriend. Ghost Dad needs to go get a physical. The most befuddling is the show-and-tell sequence, in which Cosby’s son gets on his case about helping him with a magic trick.
Hello? Kid, your dad is dead. Forget about the magic trick and cry or something. That the kids do not quite grasp what has happened to their father makes the movie even sadder.
The movie is competently made. Cosby is much more at home here than in the dismal Leonard Part 6. The role of a hapless father trying to keep his family together suits him quite well, and he even wrings a few funny moments out of trying to parent from beyond the grave. I must admit that I laughed at a scene in which he is forced to undergo a physical, which he manages to do quite believably (with the help of Arnold Stang--yes, Arnold Stang). The usually reliable Ian Bannen appears as a scientist named Edith, and the fact that his name is Edith is one of many jokes that the movie insists is very funny.
It should be mentioned--spoiler alert!--that the Cosby character is thankfully not really dead, and he finds a way to put himself back in his body and reunite with his family, and the movie has a happy ending. This is a relief. There is absolutely no way to accept a version of this movie where the character actually dies, and where the kids grieve for their father in a normal way. Such a movie would be tragic, and to try to make it into a comedy would be unconscionable.
Though Ghost Dad is a bit more bearable than Leonard Part 6, they share one thing in common: both are films that fall prey to a premise that is completely unworkable. There may be a way to make a movie about a dad who dies and comes back as a ghost to set things right for his children, but it would have to be somber and honest and not the fun fest that this film wants to be.
* 1/2 out of ****
Is it really that bad?: It's not completely devoid of humor.
Pain level: Fairly low, rising to intermediate whenever the young children are involved.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
THE CINEMASOCHIST: Caddyshack II (1988)
The Cinemasochist takes a look at movies that have been notoriously rejected by the mass populace, and tells you if you might perchance be missing a classic. Or not.
Harold Ramis's Caddyshack was a unique occurrence. It was less a cohesive film than it was an experiment to see what happens when you throw ten or fifteen of the world's best comic actors in a room and see what happens. Nobody remembers it for its plot or its screenplay, or its perfunctory love story, or even the adorable puppet gopher who dances over the opening music. It was for the manic comic explosion that happened when Bill Murray, Rodney Dangerfield, Chevy Chase, and Ted Knight occupied the same movie. It wasn't a smart bomb by any stretch--more of a comic splatter--but there were more hits than misses. And the actors--even Murray and Chase, who hated each other--improvised together to make it work.
Caddyshack II, perhaps inevitably, followed eight years later. Though unable to rekindle much of the original cast, it supplies a surprisingly strong road company. Chase returns as the inimitable Ty Webb. Jackie Mason steps into Rodney Dangerfield's shoes as the rich rabble-rouser who actually cares about the non-rich community. Robert Stack plays the Ted Knight role, as the upper-crust patrician who opposes him. Dan Aykroyd plays the Bill Murray role as a shady diner cook. Jonathan Silverman, Dyan Cannon, Jessica Lundy, Chynna Phillips, Dina Merrill, and Randy Quaid also step in. Ramis wrote the screenplay with Peter Torokvei, and veteran Allan Arkush (of Rock and Roll High School) takes the director's chair.
The problem? The film plays as the exact opposite of the original. While the original was an improvised masterpiece, the sequel seems meticulously planned. Nothing about it seems spontaneous. Though by no means horrible, and sometimes even funny, all the actors seem restricted, as if they're more closely scripted this time.
The plot is pretty much the same. The aristocrats of Bushwood Country Club are shaken when philanthropist Jack Hartounian (Mason) joins up. His company is in the process of building a block of low-rent apartments for low-income people, which threatens the property value of the nearby rich, notably Chandler Young (Stack). Meanwhile, Jack's daughter (Lundy) really wants to be part of the upper class, and finds herself being courted by Young's son (Brian McNamara), though a bumbling caddy (Silverman) has his eye on her.
Mason's character is one reason the movie isn't as potent as the first. Though Mason is often funny, he's far too polite to take on the Dangerfield role. His character is unimpeachable and nice; though Rodney was the hero of the first film, the funniest moments came from his crudeness in the face of the prim and proper atmosphere of the country club. Though he gets off a few one-liners, Mason is far too pleasant.
Stack is fun to watch as the straight man; though he'll never have a moment as laugh-out-loud funny as when he took off his sunglasses in Airplane!, he wisely takes the role as seriously as possible and makes a convincing punching bag. Chase also remains effortlessly funny.
Not a whole lot can be said for the rest of the film. Cannon and Silverman are wasted. Quaid mugs interminably as Jack's assistant. Aykroyd is a sorry replacement for Bill Murray; his answer to Murray's unforgettable character from the first film is to affect an irritating falsetto and act goofy.
Some of the set pieces in Caddyshack II get good laughs; others don't. But what pervades all of them is a sense that it's all been planned. Gone is the improvised atmosphere of the original, and in its place is an average '80s comedy.
** out of ****
Is it really that bad?: Well, no, but why bother with this film at all?
Pain level: Most of the time, intermediate. When either Randy Quaid or Dan Aykroyd is on screen, sharp.
Harold Ramis's Caddyshack was a unique occurrence. It was less a cohesive film than it was an experiment to see what happens when you throw ten or fifteen of the world's best comic actors in a room and see what happens. Nobody remembers it for its plot or its screenplay, or its perfunctory love story, or even the adorable puppet gopher who dances over the opening music. It was for the manic comic explosion that happened when Bill Murray, Rodney Dangerfield, Chevy Chase, and Ted Knight occupied the same movie. It wasn't a smart bomb by any stretch--more of a comic splatter--but there were more hits than misses. And the actors--even Murray and Chase, who hated each other--improvised together to make it work.
Caddyshack II, perhaps inevitably, followed eight years later. Though unable to rekindle much of the original cast, it supplies a surprisingly strong road company. Chase returns as the inimitable Ty Webb. Jackie Mason steps into Rodney Dangerfield's shoes as the rich rabble-rouser who actually cares about the non-rich community. Robert Stack plays the Ted Knight role, as the upper-crust patrician who opposes him. Dan Aykroyd plays the Bill Murray role as a shady diner cook. Jonathan Silverman, Dyan Cannon, Jessica Lundy, Chynna Phillips, Dina Merrill, and Randy Quaid also step in. Ramis wrote the screenplay with Peter Torokvei, and veteran Allan Arkush (of Rock and Roll High School) takes the director's chair.
The problem? The film plays as the exact opposite of the original. While the original was an improvised masterpiece, the sequel seems meticulously planned. Nothing about it seems spontaneous. Though by no means horrible, and sometimes even funny, all the actors seem restricted, as if they're more closely scripted this time.
The plot is pretty much the same. The aristocrats of Bushwood Country Club are shaken when philanthropist Jack Hartounian (Mason) joins up. His company is in the process of building a block of low-rent apartments for low-income people, which threatens the property value of the nearby rich, notably Chandler Young (Stack). Meanwhile, Jack's daughter (Lundy) really wants to be part of the upper class, and finds herself being courted by Young's son (Brian McNamara), though a bumbling caddy (Silverman) has his eye on her.
Mason's character is one reason the movie isn't as potent as the first. Though Mason is often funny, he's far too polite to take on the Dangerfield role. His character is unimpeachable and nice; though Rodney was the hero of the first film, the funniest moments came from his crudeness in the face of the prim and proper atmosphere of the country club. Though he gets off a few one-liners, Mason is far too pleasant.
Stack is fun to watch as the straight man; though he'll never have a moment as laugh-out-loud funny as when he took off his sunglasses in Airplane!, he wisely takes the role as seriously as possible and makes a convincing punching bag. Chase also remains effortlessly funny.
Not a whole lot can be said for the rest of the film. Cannon and Silverman are wasted. Quaid mugs interminably as Jack's assistant. Aykroyd is a sorry replacement for Bill Murray; his answer to Murray's unforgettable character from the first film is to affect an irritating falsetto and act goofy.
Some of the set pieces in Caddyshack II get good laughs; others don't. But what pervades all of them is a sense that it's all been planned. Gone is the improvised atmosphere of the original, and in its place is an average '80s comedy.
** out of ****
Is it really that bad?: Well, no, but why bother with this film at all?
Pain level: Most of the time, intermediate. When either Randy Quaid or Dan Aykroyd is on screen, sharp.
Monday, January 9, 2012
THE CINEMASOCHIST: Leonard Part 6 (1987)
The Cinemasochist takes a look at movies that have been notoriously rejected by the mass populace, and tells you if you might perchance be missing a classic. Or not.
On second thought, the only person who could have possibly conceived this movie as a star vehicle for Bill Cosby is Bill Cosby. No outside person would have ever looked at his standup, looked at his popular sitcom, looked at his place in the pantheon of comedy history, and reached the conclusion that the perfect role for him would be as a slapstick James Bond-style spy/action hero with barely any dialogue. Critics are quick to point out incredulously that the great Cosby was co-writer and producer of this gargantuan mess. That isn’t the unbelievable part; what’s incredible is that he found someone else to collaborate with him on it.
On second thought, the only person who could have possibly conceived this movie as a star vehicle for Bill Cosby is Bill Cosby. No outside person would have ever looked at his standup, looked at his popular sitcom, looked at his place in the pantheon of comedy history, and reached the conclusion that the perfect role for him would be as a slapstick James Bond-style spy/action hero with barely any dialogue. Critics are quick to point out incredulously that the great Cosby was co-writer and producer of this gargantuan mess. That isn’t the unbelievable part; what’s incredible is that he found someone else to collaborate with him on it.
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