I promised a review of all five “Dirty Harry” movies and slowly but surely, I’ll get there.
The key to making a good sequel to a popular movie is to keep the essence of what made the first flick so awesome but at the same time, being willing to branch out just far enough to make the film stand on its own. That’s done here and serial writers would be well-advised to pay attention.
While Dirty Harry’s catchphrase in the first film was, “Do you feel lucky, punk?” here, it’s “A man’s got to know his limitations.”
Early in the film, Harry says this to one of the many bosses who spend all day polishing their brass but still want to chew Callahan out over why he can’t be kinder and gentler to the never-ending onslaught of scumbags who are trying to shoot him. It’s meant as an insult but as the movie progresses, I began to wonder if it isn’t eventually turned into Harry’s mantra.
You see, in the ultimate twist of irony, Harry, who has long groused about the flaws in the system that allow criminals to go free, is pitted against…dun dun dun…a group of young, rookie motorcycle cops who have formed an execution squad, carrying out hits on bad guys who skirt the system time and time again.
Though Harry is often accused of going beyond the law himself, we, the viewers, know the truth. Harry doesn’t go above the law…he just enforces the law, and he never backs down from a fight. When other cops call it a day, Harry runs headfirst into danger, his .44 Magnum blazing, and gets the job done.
But as much as he gripes about how the system lets crooks walk, he, to use his catchphrase, “knows his limitations.” He knows he is limited by the law and if he breaks it in the name of catching a crook, then he’s no worse than the bad guys he locks up.
Still, the setup is gut wrenching – Harry, the badass cop who bleeds blue, forced to do the unthinkable – to take on his fellow officers as though (shudder) he’s some kind of dirty, bleeding heart hippy. Truly, Callahan’s worst nightmare.
As usual, there are a number of interludes where Harry is just out and about town, enjoying a bite to eat or doing some work when shit happens. During the 1970s, airplanes were hijacked by terrorists pretty regularly, so I imagined crowds of that era cheered as Harry dons a pilot uniform to sneak onboard a pilfered plane only to feed the bad guys a taste of .44 caliber justice. Today, movie goers would want to give the terrorists a cash settlement and put Harry in sensitivity training.
Further, the shootout in a department store is one of the best action scenes in the entire series, so you’ll want to check that out.
Moral quandaries abound as the film takes you into the lives of those baddies being offed by the motorcycle squad, from mobsters who start their own wars to a pimp who forces a can of drain cleaner down the throat of a prostitute who comes up a few bucks short. On occasion, you might, sadly, find yourself rooting for the motorcycle cops but then you remember that while the system is flawed, the same system that occasionally lets bad guys go also keeps people from being like, “Hey, I don’t like so and so’s face so I’m going to say he’s a criminal for no reason and take it upon myself to blow him away.” Vigilantism is never the way, no matter what Batman tells you.
STATUS: Shelf-worthy. Overall, it’s a rare sequel that’s as good as the first. Harsh as it may sound, we all need to know our limitations. That’s the hardest part of life, isn’t it? In theory, Harry would probably like to dispense his own brand of Magnum justice to the wicked, but he knows he’s limited by the law and as much as he complains about it, he knows he’s limited by it, so he won’t step over that line, though he occasionally wiggles his foot over it from time to time throughout the series. Here, the crooked cops didn’t know their limits and thus, must face Callahan’s wrath.
“Know your limitations” is good advice for life, as much as we hate to hear it. Don’t wait around for the perfect job, when a subpar gig will put money in your bank account. Don’t wait around for the perfect lover when an imperfect person is willing to spend time with you. If you never settle for less than perfection, you’ll never experience much in this very imperfect world.
I know what you’re thinking, 3.5 punks. You’re thinking, did he fire off six posts, or only five? Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement, I lost track myself. But seeing as how this is a .44 blog that’s only read by 3.5 people and could bore your head clean off, you’ve got to ask yourself, do you feel lucky, 3.5 punks?
Well, do ya?
BQB here with a review of the movie that started it all – “Dirty Harry.”
You’ve had since the early 1970s to watch this but just an FYI – SPOILERS ensue.
Poor Inspector Harry Callahan (Clint Eastwood). To the uninitiated, i.e. those newbies who’ve never watched one of his flicks, it’s easy to assume his nickname means he’s a “Dirty” cop.
Nope. He’s just the guy on the San Francisco police department who gets called on to do all the “dirty jobs” no one else wants to do.
Some crook has a gun pointed to a hostage’s head? Call Harry. Some psycho is threatening to jump off a building? Call Harry. There’s a bank robbery in progress? Hey, Harry, take care of that, will you? We’ll all be hiding over here and we’ll give you a critique of your performance when you’re done.
Yes, it’s not easy being the cop everyone depends on. It’s a thankless job, to say the least. No cop wants to be the one who makes the split second decision about whether to shoot a bad guy and put a hostage at risk or let the bad guy walk, taking the hostage along to possibly kill later.
No cop wants to be the one who walks into a bank robbery in progress and take down a gang of baddies using nothing but his wits and his sidearm, a fat ass .44 Magnum hand cannon in Harry’s case.
But Harry does this bullshit all the time and does he ever get thanked for it? Nope. Instead, he’s constantly harassed and berated (throughout the entire series) by a never-ending supply of police brass, supervisors, bureaucrats and politicians who have never even fired a gun but are completely happy to bitch Harry out for property damage, ensuing lawsuits, alleged civil rights violations and so on.
There’s the rub. These dummies want the crooks caught, but they’re so clueless they think that the bad guys can be taken down easily, that Harry is somehow just an evil, trigger happy caveman who thirsts for blood and guts and a nicer cop could somehow talk the bad guys into having tea and crumpets.
You, the viewer, learn better. You’re follow Harry along throughout the course of his days, watching as he works the serial killer case, with occasional interruptions from villains along the way. Poor Harry. Throughout the series, the dude rarely enjoys a meal without the joint he’s eating in getting robbed, requiring him to break out his massive revolver while he’s still chewing on his meal. The dirty job doer’s work is never done.
In this first film, there’s the iconic scene where Harry, after dispatching a group of bank robbers, stares down one last crook. The crook stares at a shotgun lying on the sidewalk, just inches from his grasp. Will he reach for it? Harry gives the infamous speech about whether he fired off five shots or six and the robber decides to let the shotgun go – better safe than sorry.
In today’s politically correct world, is it problematic for a white cop to be gunning down a gang of black bank robbers? Yes. Not arguing that. If the movie is ever remade (which would be like remaking the Mona Lisa), you’d never a more diverse gang, probably an all white gang.
But here’s the thing. I can understand if you view this movie on a surface level and say, “Oh God, I hate this. It’s all about a white cop who gets off on shooting black people and it’s giving a bad message that black people are criminals.”
My only request is to look at the film deeper. Harry, with his sneer and his badass hair and stylish sport coat and sunglasses, yes Harry, the civil rights’ lawyer’s worst nightmare, is, in many ways, an old school social justice warrior.
I know, it sounds crazy, but stay with me. Yes, the bank robber is black…but, Harry doesn’t see that. Or he sees it but doesn’t care. Harry doesn’t see a black guy. He sees a bad guy. There’s a war for the streets of San Francisco and everyday, Harry is on the front lines. The actions he takes protect people of all races and colors, creeds and religions. There’s law abiding citizens and there’s criminals and if you’re the latter, Harry will take you down.
To drive this point home, consider that later in the film, the serial killer murders a young African-American boy, only ten years old. In a film where this epically stoic character who is all grit and macho manliness, this is the one moment where he looks broken up. He’s failed two law abiding citizens, the boy and his mother, and it’s clear from the look on his face that he’s going make this murderer pay.
At the end of the film, Harry squares off against the white, looney tunes serial killer. The killer is taken down in a similar fashion to the black bank robber at the start of the film. The killer is on the ground and a gun is within his reach. Harry recites the “Do you feel lucky punk?” speech again. He’ll give the white serial killer the same chance he gave the black bank robber – give up the gun and go to jail, or reach for it and maybe get your head blown off, maybe not, depending on how many bullets are left in the old hand cannon.
Compare the looks that Harry gives to the black bank robber and the white serial killer. Harry laughs when the bank robber gives up. It’s almost like he and the robber played a game of chess. The robber was out to get some quick cash and now he’s been subdued so Harry could give a shit now.
But look at the look Harry gives the white killer. The white killer’s actions have been way worse. He’s killed innocents throughout the film, even a young boy. Harry will do the right thing if the killer gives up, but the look on his face tells us he really, really, really hopes the killer will make a move so he can be blown away.
That’s my take on it, anyway. There’s a universal standard of right and wrong and Harry doesn’t carry who you are, what you look like, or what color your skin is. If you’re breaking the law, beware the .44.
Civil rights abuses and police brutality were hot topics of the 1970s just as they are today. Harry is constantly reamed out by police brass and attorneys who, almost in a quasi-parody way, care more about the rights of the accused than the victims.
The irony is that, at least in this film anyway, and correct me if I’m wrong, but Harry only walks right up to the line of a civil rights abuse, but doesn’t really dive in feet first as he’s often accused of doing. There’s a fourteen year old girl who’s been buried alive and her air is running out. Realizing there’s no time for the suspect to consult his requested lawyer, Harry steps on the killer’s open leg wound and demands to know where the girl is. Abusive? Yes. Against the law? Sure. Understandable? Hell yes, especially if you’re the girl or her family.
Perhaps a cop’s life isn’t filled with as much cartoonish violence but even so, cops are forced to make split second decisions all the time. Sometimes they’re right. Sometimes they’re wrong. The desk chair warmers love to chew Harry out and demand that he take down bad guys in a nicer, gentler manner, and constantly to take Harry’s badge, career and livelihood.
But you, the viewer, and Harry, share a secret. You both know that Harry being off the force would be the brass’ worst nightmare, because then no one would be around to do all the dirty jobs that no one else wants to do.
STATUS: Shelf-worthy. Watch immediately. I’m not gay or nothing but I wish I could have 1970’s Clint’s hair, figure and sunglasses. I’d get non-stop beaver for sure. Are we still allowed to call it beaver? Someone call my lawyer.
You know, 3.5 readers, I don’t usually do a review of kids’ movies, but this one moved me a bit, so here we go.
Miguel is a young boy who dreams of becoming a famous musician, as famous as Ernesto de la Cruz (Benjamin Bratt), this fictional version of Mexico’s answer to Elvis.
Alas, his family has put a long, long, longtime ban on music due to the fact a musician in the family once caused great heartbreak for all.
Blah, blah, blah, shenanigans ensue and Miguel finds himself in the Land of the Dead, where the deceased “live” albeit in skeleton form. Miguel is still alive and obviously, does not belong here, but he’ll have to solve some mysteries about his family’s past in order to return to the land of the living.
There’s a lot of bright colors and the plot was a little better than usual, IMO, for a kids’ movie. But there was one takeaway that stood out.
You see, we learn that it’s possible for the skeletons to die a second time, i.e. to disappear without a trace. The skeletons live and prosper and are happy…for as long as the living remember them. Once the last person who remembers the formerly alive skeleton dies, and there isn’t anyone else around to tell stories of the dead person when he/she was alive, then the skeleton ceases to be.
Ergo, whether it’s “The Land of the Dead” or Heaven or whatever afterlife you envision, we’ll never know for sure what happens when we die. Theology tells us we live on. Evidence tells us we become worm food. However, you can at least take steps in this life to make sure you are remembered fondly and tales of your deeds will be passed down throughout the generations.
The thought is bittersweet – it provides motivation to get out there and live and love, to be productive and helpful and friendly in the hopes that no matter what happens after this life, you will at least be remembered by others.
But the downside is the average person, even with the best intentions and the most follow-through, probably, at best, can’t achieve something that allows them to be remembered past a few generations of their family.
Doubt it? Think fast. How many of you are able to tell me the name of your great, great grandfather or mother? Tell me in the comments how far back in your family tree you are able to recite.
So, here’s the deal. Every new generation, for some reason, truly and sincerely believes they are the very first to discover an issue, as though prior generations had never considered it before.
For obvious and tragic reasons, the gun debate is raging all over TV and over the Internet these days. Funny though, are you aware that a 44 year old movie pretty much sums up the arguments for and against gun control in one fell swoop?
No, I’m not talking about the recently released reboot starring Bruce Willis, although I do want to see it.
I’m talking about the original Death Wish, which by now, is roughly the same age as a middle aged man. Hard to believe, isn’t it? I rented it last night and dated as the film is, it still hashes out all the talking points about guns that are being bandied about today.
You see, 3.5 readers, in the early 1970s, there was a crime wave in the inner cities. Nixon actually won the presidency due to promises to get tough on crime. People were fed up by the fact that they couldn’t walk down the street without getting hassled by hoodlums and Hollywood cashed on in this development, producing all manner of films where tough guys, fed up with the system’s inability to protect them, take law into their own hands and blow bad guys away with big ass hand cannons. “Death Wish” was the most notable of these films, though it runs neck and neck with Clint Eastwood’s “Dirty Harry” series.
The plot? New York City architect Paul Kersey is a mild mannered liberal professional and family man. He loves his wife, his daughter, and abhors violence, having even been given a medical corps position during the Korean War to avoid having to kill anyone.
All this changes when his wife is killed and daughter brutally raped by a pack of hooligans led by none other than a young Jeff Goldblum. “Life uh..finds a way.”
While some hero tales provide an instant transformation i.e. the main character instantly gains powerful skills overnight, Kersey’s progression from frumpy dad to badass killing machine is a slow one.
Kersey’s informed there’s not much the police can do. His son-in-law, Jack, laments that to the government, his wife and Paul’s wife are little more than statistics, a certain number of crime victims that the powers that be deem acceptable, even normal, and that they’ll just have to suck it up and get used to it.
Pissed, Kersey starts carrying a sock full of quarters to protect himself. When a mugger attacks him, he gives the mugger a sock knock and sends the ne’er-do-well running. He learns an interesting lesson – if criminals are made to fear for their lives, they’ll run.
Our hero then takes a sojourn to Arizona for work, we he meets Aimes, a business associate who can only be described as a walking, talking caricature of a died in the wool NRA member on steroids. Frontier justice, Aimes says, is the name of the game in the West. Everyone’s packing heat and criminals know they’ll be instantly bagged and tagged, so crime rates are low according to the cowboy.
Aimes takes Kersey to a range and we can see Kersey feel like he’s regaining control of his life as he takes aim at targets and fires. He reveals that he did some hunting in his youth and had to qualify as a marksman in the Army, so he has some skill. The cowboy gives the city slicker a present, a rather menacing looking revolver.
When Kersey returns to NYC, he starts carrying the pistol. Oddly, he’s accosted by another mugger. Kersey keeps his cash and puts a bullet in the bad guy instead. He runs home and is so horrified by what he’s done that he throws up.
But soon…Kersey becomes addicted to murdering criminals…or does he? It’s sort of an up for interpretation part of the film.
Fun fact – although he’s portrayed as an out of control vigilante, Kersey technically never does anything illegal. He just takes a lot of walks in the middle of the night in dangerous neighborhoods, on subways, in parks, and is sure to flash a wallet full of money in seedy establishments and/or look like a bumbling old man by carrying groceries. He never attacks anyone who doesn’t attack first.
Maybe he really is just an old bumbler with a lot of bad luck…but most likely, he’s out trolling, just waiting, nay wishing that some mugger would attack him so he can shoot them in self-defense.
And that’s the rub. Kersey never shoots anyone who didn’t draw a pistol or a knife on him first.
The overall theme of the movie? If people arm up, bad guys will pussy out. Not really a popular message today.
The alternative argument, that society will descend into chaos if everyone is carrying a gun, is briefly explored, but ultimately, it’s suggested that bumbling politicians are to blame. During one such meeting of incompetent NYC bureaucrats, it’s noted that “the vigilante’s” hijinx have cut muggings down by half, but they’ll never tell the public for fear that the city will become a war zone.
But what’s the alternative? Better governance? More police? A better economy? More social welfare programs? A better world where the poor have no need to rob and steal? Nah, the politicians aren’t going to do any of that. They’d really just prefer it if families of crime victims like Kersey would shut up, accept their statistic status and go along as if nothing happened.
Is it an awesome film? In many ways, yes. The gradual progression from pacified weakling to macho asskicker is fun to watch.
Is it open to criticism? Yes. In the past, criminals were portrayed as cartoon characters, bums who made a conscious decision to avoid the honest pay that a hard day’s work could provide and to seek a quick buck by hassling the law abiding instead. Ergo, they deserved the new holes that Kersey gave to them. And sure, that often happens but in today’s cinema, criminals are usually given a heartwarming backstory that makes you feel as though the person could not have helped becoming a criminal (often the case, though not always.)
Is the film racist? Well, I mean, yeah, Kersey does shoot an awful lot of black dudes. But he shoots white dudes too. And there are many law abiding African-American characters, from a police officer that assists Kersey in the investigation into his wife’s death, to a working class couple who see a duo of white crooks enter a subway train and decide to get off at the next stop rather than deal with them, to an old black lady who, inspired by tales of the vigilante on the news, whips out a hat pin and stabs the shit out of two reprobates who try to run off with her purse.
I mean yeah, to borrow an SJW term, a white character gunning down so many black characters is “problematic.” You could argue that perhaps there is a universal code of right and wrong, that no matter what color you are, if you point a gun or a knife at anyone of any color, then you’re getting what’s coming to you if the threatened person takes you out. It’s a daily war against crime, with law abiding people of all different colors and backgrounds vs. crooks of all different races and backgrounds. White Paul Kersey and black old lady with the hat pin are on the same side – two good people who just want to walk home without getting accosted for the money they worked for.
But still, yeah, an awful lot of black dudes buy the farm in this movie so…how to rectify that? I don’t know. Maybe if there’s ever another reboot of this film, a black actor could play the Paul Kersey role, gunning down a rainbow of hoodlums from all different backgrounds, or just white guys, or really, does it matter what color the shooter or the person shot is as long as the shooter was being attacked and the attacker was, in fact, a threat to life? Bruce Willis is one of very few conservative actors willing to touch this franchise, though I think Hollywood missed a real opportunity to hold a coup if they would have cast, say, Denzel Washington or Jamie Foxx as Paul Kersey.
Oh well. Don’t picket my blog. I liked the movie though I realize in many ways it’s un-PC, hokey, tacky and well, probably doesn’t hold up today. I mean, sure if you stand out in NYC in the middle of the night for long enough, you might get robbed once, but no one is as unlucky as Kersey, getting robbed over and over, even if you are out walking around, wishing that someone would rob you so you could kick their ass. (Note: just give them the money.)
All in all, what does this old movie tell us? Does it have any relevance to today’s gun debate? Basically, the politicians of this movie, just as the politicians in real life today, are as clueless and inept as ever. Gun control is a sensitive issue and no matter what side you’re on, government officials appear clueless and inept when they fail to make us all safe…and citizens must keep pressure on politicians to make the world a safer place because at the end of the day, they’re lazy and happy to just let victims become more statistics, more faceless victims, more deaths to be expected as just a matter of fact of life.
Overall, depending what side of the fence you’re on, you’ll hate or love this film. And honestly, I can see why you’d hate or love it.
Hmmm. What’s up with this film? Well, every once in awhile, Hollywood dumps an ensemble cast into a confusing attempt at a witty, stylish, fast-paced crime comedy and this movie is 2018’s answer to that formula that really hasn’t worked since “Ocean’s 11.”
This movie is 2018’s attempt at such a film.
Here, Richard and Elaine (Joel Edgerton and Charlize Theron), are partners in crime, a duo of corrupt pharmaceutical company representatives/alpha types, the modern day equivalent of the wild sex having yuppies of the 1980s.
Together, they keep their thumb on Harold (David Oyelowo), a dutiful, nerdy employee, so unflinchingly loyal to his bosses that he’s not able to see their more sinister intentions.
During a trip to Mexico, where the company is attempting to perfect a weed pill outside of America’s jurisdiction, all hell breaks loose. A kidnapping, drug dealers, a hitman with a heart of gold and a couple of hipsters all rain on Harold’s parade.
Charlize, who continues to give me boners and I doubt will never not give me boners, is naughty in this role, saying dirty words you’d never think you’d hear her say.
Meanwhile, David plays the nerd of stressed out, hyper-sensitive, over-worried nerd well.
STATUS: Shelf-worthy. There are some cool scenes and fun laughs. Overall, you might wait to rent it.
3.5 readers, I’ll admit it. I’m a male chauvinist pig. I put off watching this movie because I thought it would be ultra-feminist tripe, hyped up to make women feel good about themselves. Turns out, it isn’t so much about feminism as it is about the eternal struggle of every generation – that battle that comes when kids wants to spread their wings and parents feel they must clip them.
So sorry I assumed the worst about this movie. I was part of the patriarchy all along. Who knew?
In director Greta Gerwig’s (I assume semi-autobiographical) meditation on growing up in early 2000’s Sacramento, we follow the senior year in high school of Christine (Saoirse Ronan) who, in a display of the ultimate in eccentricity, takes the name “Lady Bird” and demands others refer to her this way as well.
If the genesis of the self-appointed nickname is explained, I missed it, though I got the general sense that it is one of those silly choices kids make during a time when they believe the world is wide open to them, that they’re special, unique, that they’ll be the next big thing and so it’s ok to do wacky things like re-name yourself.
Lady Bird and her mother, Marion (Laurie Metcalf) have a love/hate relationship. One minute, they’re in a battle royale, the next minute they’re going dress shopping. Sometimes they’ll take breaks in the fighting to direct kindness towards the other.
The genesis of the fights? Lady Bird wants to study at a big name, fancy school, but lacks the grades or qualifications. Mom and Dad (Tracy Letts) are struggling to make ends meet and though Dad can never say anything negative to his little girl, Mom constantly lays down the law, informing Lady Bird there’s just no way her dreams of heading off to a big city could ever happen.
The film shows both sides of that eternal kid/parent coming of age struggle. Lady Bird is overly dramatic, perhaps too intelligent for her own good, overthinking the mundane to the point it drives her crazy. Suburban life doesn’t just bore her, it’s killing her – the sheer lack of opportunity and ability to express her creativity is too much to handle.
On the other hand, if Lady Bird’s dreams are fantasy, Mom and Dad are mired in reality. Mom is a nurse, working double shifts where she sees death and illness all day. Dad’s battling depression, having been let go from his longtime job and forced to go through the indignity of sitting through a job interview where he has to explain to a much younger, green around the gills boss how to conduct an interview. You get the impression that Dad could tell the kid to step aside and get him some coffee, but he accepts the indignity with, well, great dignity.
Yes, we even see both sides of life at the Catholic school Lady Bird attends. Lady Bird lives to question religious authority and to prank Sister Joan (Lois Smith). Yet, when Sister Joan holds the power to make Lady Bird pay for a slight, she, well I suppose in the name of Christianity, turns the other cheek.
Meanwhile, an elderly priest/drama teacher who fills his students’ with laughter and song is dying. Coincidentally, he’s a patient of Lady Bird’s mother and while he’s brought so much joy to so many, he’ll be facing death alone.
In short, the adults know how shitty life can be, especially for the unprepared. Risks and gambles rarely pay off. Like the infamous tortoise, slow and steady wins the race. Mom may seem like a bitch for trying to talk Lady Bird out of pie in the sky dreams, but then again, Mom knows that working a boring, regular job, as non-glamorous as that may be, puts food on the table and gets a mortgage paid off.
Thus, the movie makes a key point. Kids and adults both have something to say in the eternal growing up struggle. If a kid has X dream, efforts should be made to make it happen. Then again, kids have to realize all the struggles Mom and Dad do behind the scenes. Get that barista job and get in the struggle, just as your parents did before you.
Ronan (my eyes go cross when I try to spell her first name) shines while Laurie Metcalf, a staple of network television since her early days playing Aunt Jackie on “Roseanne” is finally getting some long deserved acknowledgment. Alas, in any other year, I think she would have been a shoe-in for best actress had she not been up against that other longtime, underappreciated staple of network television, Allison Janney. Both were equally deserving so I assume it was a coin toss.
In the end, I envy Lady Bird. Oh, to be young again and to look at the world as a friend, a thing of beauty to explore and not an enemy that is going to bend you over and attack your butt every chance it gets. Kids, don’t lose your childish sense of wonder as you head off in pursuit of your dreams, but do take your parents’ advice. The lumps they took might just save you from taking them.
STATUS: Shelf-worthy. I think the fish fucker movie is better, though I still thing Three Billboards was the best.
What an outrageous night so far, 3.5 readers. So many beautiful people awarded and not an ugly face among them. With all this talk about diversity, which I’m not arguing against as it’s needed, there seems to be no commitment toward making sure physically ugly Americans aren’t left out of the movie industry.
I’ll admit Sam Rockwell is kind of ugly, but not full blown ugly. “Kinda ugly” is about as far as the Academy is willing to go. “Full blown ugly” is not a step they are willing to take, thus veteran actor Willem Dafoe loses the gold on this, his third nomination without a win.
How much longer must ugly people suffer knowing that they are not wanted anywhere near the silver screen?
“I did not hit her. It’s bullshit. I did not hit her. I did not! Oh, hi Mark!”
BQB here with a review of the movie about the best, worst movie ever made.
“The Room.” How to explain it to someone who has never seen it? Honestly, I’ve never seen it in full myself, but the clips available on YouTube tell me pretty much what I need to know.
In 2003, struggling, wannabe actors Tommy Wiseau and Greg Sestero, finding no luck on the audition circuit, teamed up to produce their own film. On the surface, a great idea, right? If no one will give you an opportunity, then create your own.
The result was “The Room” – a tale, in theory, as old as time. All American guy is in love with the perfect girl. A trusted friend creates a bitter love triangle. Tragic circumstances ensue.
Cut, print and collect money and praise, right? Wrong. The final result was something that would flunk a remedial high school AV class.
A poorly written script that was adhered to despite obvious problems, plot twists and arcs that went nowhere, overacting, underacting, laughter at inappropriate times, unusual and unnatural dialog and so on.
I could take all day pointing out the flaws, but some of the most discussed:
Tommy’s thick Eastern European accent, which in a different setting might be ok, but here his character insists he is an all American guy, born and bred and bleeding the red, white and blue. His poor delivery, repeating “Hi Mark,” emphasis on 1980s clothing which was a faux pas even in the 1990s.
Plots that go nowhere, like his girlfriend Lisa announcing she has breast cancer, then we never hear what happens again.
Laughter and weird reactions, like when Tommy laughs at a story about a woman being beaten by a boyfriend to the point she had to go to a hospital.
Characters whose relationships are unexplained. There’s a kid named Denny who just stops by and acts like Tommy is his father figure but how that happened you never know. Further, there are random characters who show up to explain main points and you have no idea who they are and where they come from.
Bad editing.
A full on shot of Tommy’s gross ass while he has sex with his girlfriend’s…umm…belly button?
Use of green screen and sets when the real thing is available – i.e. building a set of an alley when actual alleys are available. Using a green screen version of a city scape background when there are tops of tall city buildings that can be used.
And so much more!
How did this monstrosity get its start?
As the Franco (James as Tommy and Dave as Greg) brothers tell us, it all began in the late 1990s, when a young, early twenties Greg and an at least middle aged Tommy meet in a San Francisco acting class.
Greg is nervously bombing while Tommy is overacting and exuding way too much confidence, belting out “Stella!” in an antique looking pirate coat that was apparently part of his wardrobe.
Together, these two make an unlikely duo, an old and young man, deciding to move to Hollywood on a whim and live together as roomies as they pursue their acting dreams. I mean, you can hardly blame Greg’s mother (Megan Mullally) for suspecting some disturbing intentions on Tommy’s part.
When the traditional audition root fails, the duo set out to make their own movie. Throughout the ordeal, Greg and the cast and crew remain baffled by three questions that are never answered: 1) Hold is Tommy? 2) Where is he originally from? and 3) Where is all the money to fund this movie coming from?
Once the production begins, Tommy spends money like water, buying equipment and racking up unnecessary expenses (building sets that aren’t needed, installing a toilet when a bathroom is available, hiring two separate crews to film the movie on actual film and in HD) and so on.
The movie then chronicles the production. Actors and crewmates alike question Tommy’s insane decisions. A script supervisor (Seth Rogen) and other crew try to explain to Tommy why his choices make no sense and why his movie sucks but they grow exasperated as Tommy won’t listen to reason. Worse, he grows increasingly difficult to deal with, lashing out at the cast and crew for petty reasons and growing jealous of Greg’s growing successes outside of the film (a girlfriend and a potential TV gig).
Ultimately, the whole thing is a big mess that cost at least $6 million. How did Tommy get that money? No one knows. If the crew was so fed up with working on a shitty movie, why didn’t they walk off the set? One can only assume it’s just that hard to find a paying gig in Hollywood, even if the gig stinks. As the actress playing Lisa’s mother tells her fellow cast mates, “The worst day on the worst movie set is better than the best day in real life.”
What could be learned from all this? “The Room” sucks, but even so, Tommy has done a better job of making a movie than YOU have because YOU HAVE NEVER MADE A MOVIE! Tommy and Greg tried and put it all on the line. They made a movie. It sucked. But they had a dream and they gave it a shot, lousy as it was.
Ironically, over the years the film gained a cult status and eventually turned a profit. Screenings have been held all over the world “Rocky Horror Picture Show” style where fans have fun and engage in games based on the dumb things they know will happen in the film.
Critics have panned the film, citing a lack of explanation of Tommy’s background, wealth, history and age but I don’t think they got the point at all. Tommy, by all accounts, was a mystery man. He was a man of great wealth with a seemingly limitless ability to spend and yet he never explained to a soul how he got all that money. Further, he told no one his age and always insisted he was born in New Orleans. Perhaps this all teaches us how intriguing the movie life is – people want to be in show business so badly that they are willing to work with such a mysterious character.
There are also lessons to be learned about sticking to your dreams, no matter how crazy they are. Tommy has no talent. Yet, an acting coach tells him his look is such that he could easily walk into evil villain roles akin to Dracula and Frankenstein. Despite the possibility of fame, Tommy will have none of it. He’ll be the hero in a movie or he walks.
I’ve always wondered why, if Tommy wanted so badly to be in the movie business and he had so much money, why didn’t he just bankroll the work of a talented indie film director? Money men have been bankrolling their tinsel town dreams and getting their names in big screen credits with their cash forever. Hell, our current secretary of treasury is one of Hollywood’s top money men.
But Tommy didn’t just want his name in the credits. This was his movie and he wanted to make it, his way, and although he failed to make the drama he intended, he succeeded at making an unintended comedy.
Maybe that’s another lesson. Your failure might lead to an unexpected success.
Sadly, kidding (child-ing?) is getting even harder.
BQB here with a review of “The Florida Project.”
I’m not totally sure what the point of this film was. It’s not exactly plot driven. It meanders quite a bit. Large chunks of the film are devoted to young child actors around six years old, saying lines that I’m not sure they’d ever really say if there wasn’t someone, I can only imagine but not confirm, hanging off camera promising candy or toys or something.
Obviously, the overall intent is to give the world a glimpse into what life is like for the poverty stricken, as well as the lives of those whose job it is to take care of them.
On the strip leading to Disney World in Orlando, Florida, there’s a series of tourist traps – hotels, discount gift shops, all catering to folks who are visiting the House of Mouse on a budget. The film doesn’t quite explain it well but there was a time, before Disney developed the ever loving crap out of its property, when tourists who wanted to save a buck would go have fun at the parks then stay at a cheap, non-Disney motel. Today, Disney has a vast array of hotels catering to almost every type of budget.
So, if this film is to be believed, many of the strip motels have turned into sad, depressing welfare slums. Once such establishment is “The Magic Castle,” where young mother Halley (Bria Vinai) lives on a weekly cash basis with her six year old daughter, Moonee (Brooklyn Prince.)
Sidenote – if your name is Brooklyn that’s like, a guarantee your parents were all like, “this kid is becoming a child actor!” right?
The film strings together a series of shenanigans. Moonee and her young pals from the motel wander about aimlessly, spitting on cars, throwing dead fish into pools, harassing paying customers and generally making life miserable for Bobby, the motel’s overworked, underpaid, vastly put upon and long suffering manager, played by Willem Dafoe, whose presence, honestly, is the only thing that makes the film watchable.
Covered with tattoos and constantly high, Halley is unemployed and unemployable, making money by begging tourists for cash, occasionally running scams to bilk them out of money and yes, even turning tricks. You get the general sense that she wants to do right by her daughter but are unsure if it’s just that impossible to pull herself out of the proverbial hole she’s in or if she’s so drugged up she’s not able to help herself in any way.
It becomes clear that poverty is inter-generational, though whether bad parenting leads to poverty or poverty causes bad parenting is sort of a chicken vs. the egg argument. Halley’s life sucks and you are led to feel sorry for her and realize there are so many people trapped in such difficult circumstances.
At the same time, we see other parents in the motel who are similarly poor, yet they stay off drugs, work menial wage jobs and are actively attempting to better their lives and instill morals in their kids, making the most of the little they have.
Amidst this mess is Bobby, who might have one of the most thankless jobs I’ve ever seen. He works tirelessly, fixing broken equipment, painting, repairing, moving heavy stuff and the second something goes wrong, the tenants he’s given thousands of passes to on their mistakes rip his head off and raise hell over the slightest problems.
I’m inclined to think that Bobby is every adult in your life who a) wasn’t your parent but b) had a job that required him to help you and c) yelled at you for something bad you did or some rule you broke and you think he’s just an asshole because all you saw was the stern facade. You didn’t see how he returns to his office and looks so pained because he knows you’re suffering and yet there’s little he is able to do to help you.
Despite a rule that prevents tenants from staying too long and becoming permanent residents, Bobby helps Halley circumvent this rule by moving her every so often to a different room within the motel. Moonee raises hell and drives other guests nuts, constantly breaks things and makes more work for Bobby. Meanwhile, Halley’s extracurricular activities bring all kinds of heat for the motel.
In short, Bobby could throw this problem customer out on the street any time and improve his life 100 percent and yet, he refuses to do so, putting his own job on the line because his gut tells him that something bad will happen if he doesn’t bend the rules and let Halley and Moonee stay.
If this a spoiler, then so be it, but literally, at no time, does Halley ever show any kind of acknowledgment that she understands Bobby is doing her a favor. Halley makes all sorts of demands for Bobby to overlook the rules, let it go that she’s late with her rent, forget that she’s doing all sorts of bad things or that her unsupervised kid is driving everyone nuts. Yet, when Bobby asks Halley for just a little bit of help in complying with the rules, she freaks out, leading to a used maxi pad being slapped on his office window in one gross out scene.
SIDENOTE – I’ve seen tampons and pads being thrown at helpless victims in too many films now. Is this something women dream about doing all day long now? Whenever someone pisses them off, they just want to whip out their bloody cooch covers and whip ’em at some poor, unsuspecting schmuck?
Mixed feelings. It’s more of a learning experience/acted out documentary than a fun movie. There are some emotional parts though. Poverty is hard and nearly impossible to break out of. Good parenting and/or harping on kids to do the right thing can increase the chances of breaking out of it.
Perhaps there’s some irony that all these kids are suffering and are poor when just down the road there’s a theme park where wealthier parents dump tons of cash on toys, candy, rides and fun for their little brats.
But ultimately, the most I got out of it is that there are probably a million Bobbies out there – low level business employees who see people suffering hardships all day, who may come across as hardasses laying down rules but also are never thanked when they bend the rules and put their jobs and livelihood on the line to help those in need.
STATUS: Shelf-worthy. Not sure the film itself is Oscar worthy though Dafoe’s performance is and he is overdue for some recognition.
Shameless plug: if you follow @bookshelfbattle you can read snarky commentary like that all the time.
And now, on to Wakanda!
Short version – Malcolm X and Martin Luther King (or at least their dueling philosophies on black empowerment) were put into superhero form and left to duke it out.
Longer version – Wakanda has long existed as a hidden utopia of technological greatness, all made possible to large reserves of vibranium, the magic, do-everything metal that makes Captain America’s shield so awesome.
At the core of Wakandan politics is a central question – should Wakanda remain hidden from the world, hoarding its technological secrets to ensure the country’s continued survival, or should it reach out and arm oppressed people of African descent all over the world?
T’Challa (Chadwick Boseman), newly crowned king, takes the former position. Killmonger (Michael B. Jordan) a Wakandan-American with a desire to challenge T’Challa’s claim on the throne, takes the latter. The stakes are high as whoever holds the throne is able to claim the power of being “the black panther” i.e. the superhero with amazing abilities that can be wielded for good or evil, depending on who is wielding them.
No superhero is complete without his entourage or “Scooby Gang” as Buffy used to call them. T’Challa’s feisty younger sister Shuri serves as her brother’s James Bond-style “Q” or master of technology, coming up with all sorts of fun and interesting gadgets for the king to use in his war against evil.
Danai Gurira (“Walking Dead” fans know here as the samurai sword wielding Michonne) gets her long overdue big screen debut as T’Challa’s general, Okoye while Lupita Nyong-o is the big cat’s love interest. Angela Basset rounds out the royal family as T’Challa’s mother.
Meanwhile, Andy Serkis, long relegated to behind the scenes work where his movements are recorded to create CGI characters like “Lord of the Rings'” Gollum hams it up big time as Killmonger’s partner-in-crime/internationally evil weapons dealer Ulysses Klaue. I got the impression that Andy was waiting a long time to become a real life character and thus enjoyed every minute of it.
Martin Freeman connects the film to the ongoing Avengers plot line as Agent Ross. Ross is loyal to America while T’Challa’s allegiance is to Wakanda, so somehow they have to set aside their differences to engage in some buddy cop shenanigans.
You know 3.5 readers, one thing I always notice about a super hyped movie is that it is always a let down if the movie doesn’t live up to it. This film does. I noticed a lot of African Americans at the theater wearing traditional garb so I imagine there’s a lot of pride in seeing the first black Marvel superhero on screen.
I mean, there was Falcon (Anthony Mackie) but he’s really Captain America’s sidekick and hasn’t been given his own movie yet. And there’s Blade (Wesley Snipes) who had a whole trilogy but he’s not an Avenger and his powers are more occult/vampire related whereas the Avengers’ powers usually have less scary origins.
However you slice it, Black Panther is the first blockbuster super hero and he’s raking it in at the box office. Further, as the Marvel cinematic universe enters its tenth year, the cat is breathing new life into the franchise. While the older characters we’ve grown used to are a lot of fun, we’ve gotten used to their story lines and new additions like this one will keep interest going into the future.
Special effects wise, there’s a lot of cool stuff going on. Typically, I don’t like it when movies put a certain brand of car into the film as an advertisement, but there’s a pretty cool chase scene in which a Lexus is driven in an unusual way. I’ll let you watch it rather than spoil it.
Bookshelf Battle 