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On the Friday, Jan. 25 "Cort and Fatboy" broadcast, I talk about "Persepolis" and "Untraceable" -- and then we call up my pal Andre Dellamorte in L.A. for a review of "Rambo," which wasn't screened for critics in Portland.
Stick around for the end of our segment, and you'll hear us mock the sneering clerks at Movie Madness! They richly deserve it! Ask D.K. Holm!
Cort and Fatboy (Jan. 25, 2008)
In the latest CulturePulp comic -- now available in its entirety at Webcomics Nation -- I interview "Persepolis" creator Marjane Satrapi about her terrific new movie.
CulturePulp 70: The 'Persepolis' Mission Statement (Webcomics Nation)
As promised to readers of today's CulturePulp comic:
Paris-based filmmaker/illustrator Marjane Satrapi enjoys a richly deserved global following for "Persepolis" -- her sensational comics memoir about growing up during Iran's Islamic "cultural revolution."
The graphic novel used simple, iconic artwork to chart Satrapi's growing cynicism as she lost loved ones to both the Iran-Iraq war and the fundamentalist Muslims who ousted the Shah in 1979 -- and then nearly lost her life after her parents exilied her to Vienna during her very heady adolescence.
Her deeply unstable life between ages 13 and 25 (she's now 38) found her lonely in Vienna; falling in with a bunch of nihilists more interested in hedonism than politics; ending up homeless after falling out with friends and lovers; and returning in shame to Iran -- where she donned a veil, embarked on an art-school education, and jumped into a rocky marriage before taking another stab at freedom.
"Persepolis" was just adapted into a sensational animated feature by Satrapi and Vincent Paronnaud. It's a sneaky story, using simple pictures to make complex points. Every time young cartoon-Satrapi embraces faith, martyrdom or revolutionary fervor (which the artist renders in literal terms, up to and including visits from God), a real-life death, hypocrisy or injustice shatters her worldview. Meanwhile, her Marxist parents -- who'd raised their daughter to be willful and opinionated -- put a very human face on dissent in the war-torn region. Both book and movie accomplish the mean feat of hinting at a smorgasboard of opinions and agonies in a country that Western media tends to depict in terms that can be, well, cartoonish.
And yet "Persepolis" never feels anything less than effortless. The art in both book and film is the best kind of simple, with a clear design ethos at work -- balancing the absurd horrors of fundamentalism and war with humorous moments that make it just bearable.
There's a wonderful moment mid-book when the strong-willed Satrapi puts on a veil and prepares to return to Iran. "So much for my individual and social liberties," she laments, staring in the mirror at her black-cloaked self. "I needed so badly to go home." But by the end of her picaresque journey through adolescence, art-school and oppression, you realize this powerful, stubborn woman no longer has a home.
I interviewed Satrapi for 40 minutes last month, around a lone table in a gigantic empty ballroom in a Portland hotel. She was a ferocious presence, leaning forward and smoldering and talking in torrents. She sat down and immediately fired up a Winston in the middle of the empty room, saying, "I have tested the smoke alarms in all the hotels. None of them go off." She used a small water glass on the table as an ashtray, and doodled a picture of a house on a paper pad throughout the interview. An edited transcript of our entire chat follows the jump.
Continue reading "THE CULTUREPULP Q&A: 'Persepolis' creator Marjane Satrapi" »
From the Jan. 25 Oregonian....
First, for my long-suffering fellow Portlanders, let's quickly rip off the Band-Aid:
I hate to disappoint the tourism board, but "Untraceable" is yet another mediocre-to-lame thriller shot in Portland. (See also: "Body of Evidence" and "The Hunted.") It makes the City of Roses look about as lovely as a brick: The movie was filmed here last February, and lit with an eye toward the slate-gray end of the color spectrum. Most of the time, it looks like it was shot in Detroit.
Even worse, "Untraceable" is a serial-killer thriller revolving around computer hacking. Why does Hollywood persist in thinking that watching people squint at monitors while muttering about "encryptions" is exciting? Other than "Wargames," "Sneakers" and "The Matrix," how many times has this actually been entertaining?
(Putting it another way: Were there a lot of thrillers made in the 1940s about crime-busting ham-radio operators?)
Anyway. "Untraceable" is ripped from the headlines of every police procedural on television, and stars Diane Lane as Mariska Hargitay's haircut and wardrobe. Lane plays an FBI cybercrime expert investigating a Web site called www.killwithme.com, which hooks up "Saw"-style murder machines to its stats meter. The more people visit the site, the closer a kitten and a series of tied-up shirtless men come to their grisly ends.
Working with a team that includes Colin Hanks, Lane furrows her brow and wonders: Can this webcam fiend be stopped?
The movie is competently directed by Gregory Hoblit -- who did much better work last year (with a much better script) in "Fracture" -- and the cast is fine, if bored. But "Untraceable" is also relentlessly grim and dull, and runs afoul of all the pitfalls you find in movies where people rely on computers to do their detecting:
Thematically, the movie is hilariously schitzo. It's voyeuristic but blames the viewer for being voyeuristic. The cops grouse about the evils of "Net Neutrality" and decry the scumbags who post shock video. The killer, meanwhile, seems to blame the cops for the scumbags who post shock video; his/her performance-art mission statement, when finally uttered, is incoherent. The movie plays like a sub-moronic "Se7en" for the Facebook generation.
I also wonder if KPTV's Fox12 news team is kind of collectively kicking itself right now. They cooperated extensively with the production -- with their own logo and reporters appearing extensively onscreen. Their reward? They get called low-rated and desperate by cops, and their news chopper is a gleeful participant in some snuff news footage that figures heavily in the mystery. Also, if memory serves, one of their reporters (played by an actor) is kidnapped and threatened with being roasted alive by heat lamps, which is probably going to please anyone who's been the subject of a "Dirty Dining" report.
But hey: If you want to pay ten bucks plus concessions to hear Colin Hanks mention West Linn and Sellwood on a big screen, do I have a movie for you.
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C-minus; 100 minutes; rated R for grisly violence and torture, and some language.
'Untraceable' (The Oregonian, Jan. 25, 2008)
Catching up on past "Cort and Fatboy" appearances:
Jan. 4: Live at the Bagdad with "Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan" (and an ADD version of my 2007 Top 10 list).
Jan. 11: "Bucket List" star Jack Nicholson is compared to the God-Emperor of Dune, and much love is heaped on "There Will Be Blood."
Jan. 18: We're motion-sick with "Cloverfield" enjoyment.
In the Jan. 4 CulturePulp comic, we join beloved instructional cartoon characters Mr. Do and Mr. Don't as they tackle their New Year's resolutions.
Mr. Do and Mr. Don't resolve to spend January improving themselves (Webcomics Nation)
From the Jan. 18 Oregonian....
When last we checked in on Katherine Heigl, she was bagging on the movie that made her a star. In the January issue of Vanity Fair, she declared "Knocked Up" "a little sexist." She went on to complain that the film "paints the women as shrews, as humorless and uptight…. I'm playing such a [mean-sprited woman]; why is she being such a killjoy?... It was hard for me to love the movie."
Good for her for being forthright, I guess. But I have to ask: Ms. Heigl, if you had problems with your "Knocked Up" character, what in the world will you say about Jane, your character in "27 Dresses"?
Because Jane is not only humorless and uptight and a killjoy and at one point behaves like a [mean-spirited woman] on wheels, but also manages to be bland and stupid.
"Dresses" is a big-studio romantic comedy, so of course you expect it to hit all the usual plot points with all the usual characters. Stop me if this sounds in any way familiar:
Jane (Heigl) is a selfless workaholic in New York City who has one superfluous eccentricity (she's a serial bridesmaid) and secretly pines for her boss (Edward Burns), who takes her for granted. She also has a wacky best friend (Judy Greer) who talks about sex and drinks too much.
But Jane's dull resolve is tested when her party-girl sister (Malin Akerman) falls in love with the boss -- even as Jane is fending off a wisecracking newspaper writer (James Marsden).
Kind of clicks on the tropes like a metronome, doesn't it? This would be okay if the movie filled in the blanks in a clever way, but "27 Dresses" is stunningly dull. And Heigl, freed from the challenges of a Judd Apatow script, does little to distinguish herself from dozens of other actresses forgotten at the cineplex.
The only bright spot is James Marsden, a great actor who's always stuck playing the less-desirable romantic rival (see: "The Notebook," "X-Men," "Superman Returns"). He finally gets the fun-guy role for a change, and does everything he can to rip it up. He can only do so much.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to start praying that somebody makes a rom-com in which the wacky best friend is the main character before I die of boredom.
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C-minus; 107 minutes; rated PG-13 for language, some innuendo and sexuality.
'27 Dresses' (The Oregonian, Jan. 18, 2008)
From the Jan. 18 Oregonian....
There are exactly two clever ideas in the very dull heist comedy "Mad Money":
Unfortunately, beyond that, the movie is not so much horrible as it is drab -- from its lazy plotting to its uninspired yuks to its cop-out ending to its relentlessly yellow-brown sets. "Mad Money" does little more than take up space, and you will be two hours closer to the grave when you leave the theater.
The film is directed by Callie Khouri, who wrote 1991's "Thelma & Louise." It must be said that the intervening 17 years have dulled Ms. Khouri's knack for creating sympathetic female outlaws. Keaton's character in particular is the most unlikable sort of shallow, manipulative, upper-middle-class Yuppie: An economic downturn leaves her and Danson at risk of losing their McMansion and Range Rover and Latino housekeeper -- oh no! -- and she turns to crime after a single day scrubbing toilets at the Fed, which she compares to "Third World slave labor."
I get that this is meant to be satirical. The never-more-than-adequate execution just keeps it from being satirical and funny.
It might be funny if Keaton was giving a performance that inspired me to root for her anyway, or if "Mad Money" had a "Fun with Dick and Jane"-style bite. But this movie can't manage more than a feeble gumming; it's the sort of comedy where grown women bounce on a bed and squee while tossing money in the air. The sort of comedy where Queen Latifah says "I'll bet Victoria never had this particular secret" as she stuffs stolen cash in her bra. The sort of movie where the veteran comic talent confidently phones it in like they're in their sixth year on a mid-list sitcom.
(Actually, one cast member doesn't phone it in: The once-charming Katie Holmes is kind of stunningly horrible as a granola-head diabetic who lives in a trailer. She does embarrassing little dances while wearing a Discman, and delivers every line with the sort of google-eyed face-scrunch people use when they're trying to make a baby smile.)
_____
C-minus; 104 minutes; rated PG-13 for sexual material and language, and brief drug references.
'Mad Money' (The Oregonian, Jan. 18, 2008)
From the Jan. 11 Oregonian....
At last! Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson are slumming it in a "Grumpy Old Men"-style comedy! A middlebrow, slow-paced piece of cineplex fodder they clearly did for the money! A movie that features two of the greatest actors of their generation mugging, bickering, sitting around and spouting small landfills of easy life lessons!
Even better: It's directed by Rob Reiner! The once-talented filmmaker who made "This Is Spinal Tap," "Stand By Me," "The Princess Bride," "When Harry Met Sally," "Misery" and "A Few Good Men" before suddenly jettisoning his storytelling instincts with "North" and pretty much everything that followed!
Okay, maybe I'm the only one who's excited.
Anyway. "The Bucket List" concerns a hedonistic billionaire (Nicholson) and a smart mechanic (Freeman) who wind up sharing a hospital room. Both have cancer. Both have mere months to live. So Nicholson decides to drag Freeman away from his wife and kids to cross items off a wish-fulfillment list -- something Freeman is weirdly cool with doing.
They skydive. They drive fast cars. They travel to exotic locales in region-appropriate costumes. (Well, technically the film's second unit travels to exotic locales. Freeman and Nicholson mostly stand in front of special-effects green screens and have the locales projected behind them, like they're in a "Road" picture.)
I'll leave it to you to guess if anyone becomes a better person before they croak.
To be fair, "Bucket" has a few easygoing chuckles, Freeman gives his usual calm-and-steady performance and there are a couple of moments that might be considered cockle-warming. I wouldn't be shocked if it makes a spot of money. But the movie also has a knack for completely falling apart in your head immediately afterward -- like, in the parking lot on the way to the car. Among my many follow-up questions:
Is this the worst, muggiest performance of Nicholson's career?
_____
C; 97 minutes; rated PG-13 for language, including a sexual reference.
'The Bucket List' (The Oregonian, Jan. 11, 2008)
From the Jan. 11 Oregonian....
Elaine Hall adopted a child from Russia, then learned he was severely autistic. She responded in a surprising way, founding The Miracle Project -- which aims to stretch the abilities of autistic kids by teaching them acting and movement exercises during a 22-week rehearsal process and stage performance.
In "Autism: The Musical," documentarian Tricia Regan embeds herself for six months with Hall, her performers, and their parents as they put their play together -- with the acting process opening the kids up in surprising ways.
Through blunt one-on-one interviews and startlingly intimate, narration-free footage, Regan paints a thorough portrait of the issues surrounding autism: the way it rocks marriages, the financial and educational binds it creates, the exhaustion and depression that comes with years of constant management, the bullying at school and the loneliness at home. But there are also miracles, and they're exhilarating: Love blooms, mothers refuse to give up, kids reveal hidden talents, and technology helps parents hear their children speak with surprising eloquence. This is a stunning, inspiring movie.
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A-minus; 93 minutes; unrated. The documentary premieres on HBO in April.
'Autism: The Musical' (The Oregonian, Jan. 11, 2008)
