Carly at the Movies: My Week with Marilyn
As Sir Laurence Olivier famously shouted, “Teaching acting to Marilyn Monroe is like teaching Urdu to a badger!” And while that may have been true for Marilyn, no acting lessons are needed for Michelle Williams who portrays her perfectly in “My Week with Marilyn.”
What a fabulous pre-Christmas gift is this film, based Colin Clark’s book, written from his diary of life as a Third Assistant Director during the filming of “The Prince and the Showgirl” in the mid-1950′s.
In those days, Marilyn was the most famous woman in the world, and her co-star, Sir Laurence Olivier, was the most famous actor. The clash of these two iconic titans was a shot heard round the film world, and it’s safe to say this backstage drama is far more interesting than the film they eventually made.
That is due in large part to Michelle Williams, who has already been named Actress of the Year at the 2011 Hollywood Film Festival. She has been nominated for an Oscar twice, including “Brokeback Mountain,” and played the lead in an absolutely wonderful 2008 independent film called “Wendy and Lucy.” Her third Oscar nomination is forthcoming for “My Week with Marilyn.”
There were a few problems in retrospect with the film, but as a movie fan who was just as transfixed as was everyone else with the real Marilyn’s magic, I found this movie absolutely delicious.
Sensitive-looking young Eddie Redmayne played the lowly Third Assistant Director assigned to keep the unruly goddess in her place, and Branagh obviously enjoyed his imitation of the great Sir Laurence. He was certainly adequate. But somehow I’d rather see Olivier do his impersonation of Branagh. Imitation, as they say, is the sincerest form of forgery. And Emma Watson (now and forever, alas, linked with the Harry Potter movies) has grown into a strikingly lovely young actress playing a working behind-the-scenes film worker who Redmayne should have hooked up with.
All of that was fine, but when Judi Dench arrived, playing the imposing Dame Sybil Thorndike, one tends to be desperately taken by her. She is a delight, and her performance a wonder to behold. Then, about halfway through the film, she drops out – as does character actor Toby Jones – while the plot concentrates on the Redmayne-Monroe relationship.
Frankly, I would have settled for a lot less of Julia Ormond (playing an aging Vivien Leigh, Olivier’s jealous wife) or Dougray Scott (as playwright Arthur Miller, or even Zoe Wanamaker (Marilyn’s phony guru, Paula Strasberg).
But the faux “romance,” between a young nobody and the most beautiful woman on earth, is beautifully shot and underplayed by Michelle Williams, who reaches the essence of Marilyn-the-icon and only hints at the vulnerable and deeply disturbed woman beneath. She is hypnotic. She floats. She is Marilyn.
The movie they were working on, “The Prince and the Showgirl,” was a clunker. Monroe’s next film was “Some Like It Hot” and Olivier’s was “The Entertainer,” both great films in anybody’s book. So neither of them were exactly ruined by their involvement in Prince/Showgirl. But the behind-the-scenes battle of the strict and self-absorbed Olivier and the drug-ridden, insecure beauty is the stuff that Show Biz is made of.
It’s the kind of backstage magic that makes you want to run right out and see what the real movie was like. “The Prince and the Showgirl” is available on DVD and from Netflix. But it’s not half as much fun as “My Week with Marilyn.”
Carly at the Movies column by Carl Larsen
Carly at the Movies: J. Edgar
Compared to the group of recent would-be Republican presidential candidates, the little monster depicted in Clint Eastwood’s new film, “J. Edgar,” could qualify as just another power-mad nutcase. But even though Eastwood low-balled the seedier aspects of the little guy’s life, you’ve got to give Hoover credit for collecting dirt and sweeping through Washington, D.C., with the force of the mother of all vacuum cleaners.
More than half of America’s movie critics jumped gleefully on Clint Eastwood, dealing the film that deadliest of all poisons, a Bad Review. (As if anyone paid any attention to movie critics.) True enough, the film has some problems. But it’s a fascinating character study as well as a history lesson for those of us who have forgotten the past and then learned it repeats itself like stale sauerkraut.
So first of all, let us be thankful that Eastwood handled this material. Can you imagine what it would have been in the hands of Oliver Stone?
The story covers some of the major incidents in Hoover’s life, starting with the Big Red Scare in 1919, and ends with his death in 1972. It’s essentially the parallel tale of the Bureau of Investigation (as it was first called), and had it been told in a linear fashion, I believe it would have been less confusing. As it stands, it hops around from incident to incident, from the Lindbergh Kidnapping to the Civil Rights movement, from the McCarthy Hearings to the shooting of John Dillinger.
In the title role, Leonardo DiCaprio is outstanding portraying a Freudian mess of a man, dedicated to his mommy (Judi Dench), his closest friend (Armie Hammer), and his intense – if often mistaken – sense of Patriotism. Along the way, he managed to organize the federal use of far-reaching methodology, implementing wiretapping, fingerprinting, and other modern forensic weapons.
His methods as well as his madness were often abused, and his “secret files” on those in power were greatly feared. And all along the way, his secretary (played wonderfully by reliable Naomi Watts) stood by him, and it is assumed that after his death, she destroyed the files and their contents proving (or implicating) moral malfeasance and dirty dealings amongst the great and powerful.
One problem the film has that is upsetting. During the flashbacks and flash-forwards, as we see Hoover’s close buddy Charles Colson on screen, his garish makeup and clumsy facial prosthetic remind one of a Kabuki dancer. He looks ghastly, and as he ages, the mask is unsettling. Underneath all that gobbledegook, I think Armie Hammer is doing a good job of acting. (We’ll see. Watch for him as “The Lone Ranger” in the 2013 release of that classic remake, with Johnny Depp as Tonto.)
Director Eastwood shows great restraint and refrains from editorial comment during Hoover’s low moments, leaving judgment up to the viewer. But there is little that can be positive about a man who tramples individual rights, driven by his ages-long fear of Communism and his own daemons.
While it is difficult to feel compassion for a man so overtly prejudiced (his hatred for Martin Luther King, Jr. is legendary) and so willing to play fast and loose with our Constitutional rights to gain his bizarre ends, one is torn between pity and shock.
Does the film have any relevance for today’s world? Are you kidding? Who watches the watchers, and who waters the elephants? The gods have stone feet, as do the clowns. It shouldn’t take that many more Republican Candidate Debates to illustrate that.
Carly at the Movies column by Carl Larsen
Carly at the Movies: Reel fun at Halloween
Halloween is a real special time for us fans of old-timey monster flicks, horror films, and those beloved 1950′s science ficdtion schlockers. We drag out our dusty old VCR copies of classics like the original “Frankenstein,” “Dracula,” and Lon Chaney, Jr.’s portrayal of “The Wolf Man,” and spend the evening of October 31st salivating over the glories of black-and-white overacting.
That’ll be just fine for next week, but I’ve spent several days recently creeping about the local screen venues in search of some newer scary fare that might be worth your time. So join me, if you will, whilst we flutter (graceful as a bat) from TV to motion pictures on the wings of “Walking Dead,” “Reel Steel,” and the current remake of “The Thing.”
Let’s take the bestest firstus. Frankly, I’ve never been a big fan of Zombies. Those shuffle-along, single-minded carnivores have been the subject of scads of bad movies as well as a handful of good ones. But last year Frank Darabont created a TV show based on a series of graphic novels by Robert Kirkland called “The Walking Dead.” And it was simply spectacularly good because Darabont believes that good stories are about interesting people, whether they are sitting or walking or alive or dead.
The series was nominated at the Emmy Awards and a host of other kudo-type affairs and won an above-ground audience of ardent admirers, yours truly included. It was one of those catch-lightning-in-a-bottle things, and was able to portray that elusive Feeling of Impending Doom as well as “Rosemary’s Baby” or “Alien,” to name just two of the classics.
This story of a small group of people facing a horde of zombies in a post-apocalyptic world is not a brand new idea. But it is done with characters who have made you care about them – a trick not easy to do when surronded by undead critters lusting to gnaw on your gizzard. And the second season of the show, just recently started, moves the story forward with the same craftsmanship (although, admittedly, leaning toward the gorier aspects of .cannibalistic consumer consmption just a bit heavier).
The cast is not loaded with headliners, though you will probably recognize Jeffrey DeMunn as one of the better elderly character actors from his busy 30 year career on stage and screen. The assembled crew is well-cast, dedicated, and react as normal humans might in such an abnormal situation.
Trying to convince an adult fellow film buff to watch something called “Walking Dead” on TV is harder than pulling teeth, believe me. I’ll leave it to you, and gently place it among your hoped-for collection of future delightful surprises.
“Real Steel,” with Hugh Jackman in the starring role, was a pleasant surprise for me. It combines elements of “The Champ” and “Rocky,” set in a near-future where human boxing has been outlawed and robots have taken over that husky task. Rock ‘em sock ‘em robots? Yeah, kinda.
The story is told with a sly humor that makes the familiar turns more palatable. Jackman is no surprise as he resurrects a discarded hunk-o-junk ‘bot and takes it to the inevitable championship bout, a la “Rocky,” with the help of youthful Dakota Goyo (as The Kid) and Evangeline Lily (remember her on TV in “Lost” – glad to see this talented beauty moving on with her career).
It’s a fun film, just right for a family Halloween outing, and a sequel is already in development, due in 2014.
The thing about “The Thing” is, about halfway through it you begin to wonder why somebody remembered to bring along a flame-thrower and a box of hand grenades on a scientific expedition to the South Pole.
Otherwise, this little prequel fits in nicely just before John Carpenter’s 1982 gooey version under the same title. They both pale, of course –- one is tempted to call them “Polar opposites” unless one contains oneself — before the original 1951 “The Thing From Another World.”
Saturday morning I watched the prequel at a movie theater, came home and watched the 1982 version on Netflix, and then downloaded the short story (John W. Campbell, Jr.’s chilling “Who Goes There?”) they were all based upon to my Ipad. If I was a Mouseketeer, Saturday would surely have been “Any Thing Can Happen Day.”
What happens is, a whole bunch of Norwegian semi-scientists (who all look alike) accompanied by star Mary Elizabeth Winstead discover a flying saucer buried at the South Pole.
The unpleasant Thing inside starts gobbling up people and dogs alike and morphing into their bodies, proving once and for all that imitation is the sincerest form of forgery.
Now the alien monster is probably a second-cousin to the creature from “Alien.” It’s got the requisit Gaping Maw as well as slimey tentacles, gooey insides, spidery legs, bad breath, and an unpleasant disposition.
Time to break out the flame-throwers, gang. Only problem is, which one of us is truly the creature in disguise? Well that’s the premise of the film, and it careflly predates the Carpenter version, even perfectly dovetailing its own end credits with the beginning of the 1982 film. They make a great double feature.
The 1982 film is actually a lot better than the new one, stars Kurt Russell and Wilford Brimley (sans mustache), and is quite enjoyable even though the viscous victims fall hither and yon before the vile villain. And it’s all set to a wonderful musical score by Ennio Morricone. Voila!
Can’t leave without a few words about that beloved 1951 film “The Thing From Another World.” James Arness (in his pre-Gunsmoke days) is the monster, come to conquer the earth all by himself, and arriving from some far galaxy’s fresh vegetable bin. This is the first truly naturalistic science fiction film I ever saw. The characters talk over each others lines (just like real people, who never listen to one another anyway) and it’s mostly underplayed and straight-arrow, which really convinced me – I was 17 at the time – that it would be great to explore the Arctic and interview monsters from outer space.
So all in all, there’s quite a variety of movies on local screens for Halloween. Having had my fill of them, I plan to stay home to watch a few old time classic horror films, heavy with makeup and dialogue that makes you want to groan. And to feel safe, maybe I’ll just clean and reload my trusty flame-thrower.
Carly at the Movies column by Carl Larsen
Carly at the Movies: The Ides of March
The words “political” and “Scandal” go together just like peanut butter and jelly, peaches and cream, or Monica and Lewinski. So it was almost inevitable that our Liberal Hollywood Chick Magnet, George Clooney, should take a whack at it, and the result is “The Ides of March.”
This film is so much fun that it’s almost a must-see for us Yellow Dog Democrats and a skip-it for those dastdardly Republicans, portrayed herein as the Essence of Evil. But like the best of political movies, this one simply reminds us that Washington, regardless of party affiliation, is filled with the Bad, the Worst, and the Handsome.
Besides Clooney himself, playing an Ohio senator aspiring for the Democratic presidential candidacy, it stars Ryan Gosling as his idealistic press secretary and Philip Seymour Hoffman as his campaign manager. Wily Paul Giametti is the Other Guy’s version of Hoffman, Marisa Tomei as a newspaper columnist, and Evan Rachel Wood as an intern. (Every Washington movie’s gotta have one of them, ever since you-know-who stuck a presidential you-know-what down her you-know-where.)
Fabulous cast, really fine acting, good script (by Clooney and pals, based on a play) and a calmly-paced film just as juicy as you could imagine. I loved it, and would rank it amongst the top ten polotical films of all time – wedged in there somewhere with the whole TV series “The West Wing,” the classic Redford “The Candidate” and Altman’s masterpiece “Tanner ’88.”
The movie begins just before the Ohio primary, with Clooney and The Other Guy running neck and neck. It looks like whichever way Ohio goes, so goes the nation. Everyone runs around talking politically, being savvy, and plastering themselves with that blanket of good old American cynicism that politics has become.
Gosling is just way too idealistic, so it’s obvious he’s in for a disappointment. Every idol has clay feet, if you close enough to smell its socks. And as the double-dealings unfold. You and I are along for the ride, smug in our cozy little voting booth while thrilled to watch the machinations of the masters.
Enter Evan Rachael Wood, almost unrecognizable if you just remember her from her roles in “The Wrestler” (2008) or “Thirteen” (2003). She’s all grown up and gorgeous, in a kinda slick and political way. And she sets about to steal the movie from this galaxy of fine acting talents. She nearly succeeds.
Unfortunately, and as good as it is, “The Ides of March” opened this weekend along with a rock ‘em sock ‘em robot action flick, so you can just imagine which one got the box office. Nonetheless, Us Smart Folks will turn out for this addition to Clooney’s steadily expanding group of movies for grown-ups. You won’t be disappointed. This one’s a winner.
Carly at the Movies column by Carl Larsen
Carly at the Movies: Show me the money(ball)
Arise, Computer Geeks! Your movie is here! After years of gradually replacing second bananas with Chubby Little Nerds, you’ve finally lured Brad Pitt to the cool side. From now on, the sky’s the limit in the new movie “Moneyball,” currently playing in neighborhood stadiums everywhere.
Considering how many times baseball has come to bat in Hollywood, there are really only a few solid hits in the genre. The Pitt-produced “Moneyball” is surely going to rank among the top five or six, right up there with “Pride of the Yankees” and “Bull Durham.”
Although the film is sometimes as long as a real baseball game (i.e. seemingly endless), the power and charm of Brad and his buddy fighting the powers-that-be carries the day. Jonah Hill, that “Superbad” guy, are the unlikely heroes in this movie based on the real story of the 2002 Oakland Athletics unlikely season.
Brad plays real-life Billy Beane in a Robert Redford Lite performance, with Philip Seymour Hoffman as real-life grumpola manager Art Howe.
The fascinating story – as penned for the screen by heavyweights Steven Zaillian (“Schindler’s List”) and Aaron Sorkin (“The West Wing”) – concerns how the Oakland General Manager, Beane, changed baseball thinking by putting together a bargain basement ballclub through relying on statistics instead of the judgement of his scouts. He hired a Harvard economics grad (in the movie Jonah Hill says he went to Yale) and they used statistical data to pick their players. In a peanut shell, that’s it.
It’s basically the Bad News Bears. Except it really happened. And the stories of their various cut-rate players are sprinkled throughout the movie, always moving it forward. Beane had 40 million dollars to spend on the salaries for his team. The Yankees, by contrast, had 126 million, and could afford the “best” players.
Baseball fans will undoubtedly remember what happened. Not being one myself, I didn’t. But both groups will enjoy this film, including the brief cameos by 13-year-old Kerris Dorsey, playing Beane’s daughter, who virtually stole the off-the-field goings-on.
Computer Geeks, Statistic-Keepers and Numerical Nerds have been waiting for this movie to come along since the invention of the Abacus met the founding of baseball. Surprisingly enough, it’s interesting and charming and uplifting – basically everything you’d want in a movie about real life.
Brad Pitt should probably stick to roles like this, based on actual down-to-earth characters. He’s quite likeable, and a long ways from his “Troy” fiasco.
I’d hate to call this film “cerebral,” a tag that usually dooms a movie to oblivion, but it is so well written and directed and acted that you’ll find yourself siding with the brainiacs who, at least in this happy instance, turn out to be right.
Carly at the Movies column by Carl Larsen
Carl Larsen: ‘One Day’
“Let’s go see the new Hugh Grant movie!” chirped Poppy, my movie buddy. It was a mistake. The film, “One Day,” had neither Hugh Grant or much of anything else to recommend it unless, like me, you just enjoy looking at Anne Hathaway.
Poppy had been told by one of her myopic friends that “oh, you know, that charming British guy” starred with Anne Hathaway in this love story based on David Nicholls 2009 novel. He wrote the screenplay too, so blame him.
It’s an interesting idea. You take two friends with (and sometimes without) benefits, show what their lives are like on the same day each year for 20 years. It was set on St. Swithin’s Day (July 15th) and proceeded from their first encounter to their last.
The problem is, the guy (uncharmingly played by Jim Sturgess) had no charisma, and there was a total lack of chemistry for Anne Hathaway to work with. I found I didn’t much care what happened to either of them. So we watched them for (what seemed like) 20 years. Neither of them changed much. She had different hair styles. He shaved. Big whoop.
Sturgess is supposed to be this privileged playboy who disappoints his parents – the mom is wonderful Patricia Clarkson –- who drifts from girl to girl and glitzy job to glitzy job on his way down, while Anne works as a waitress then teacher then author.
She’s always been in love with him (for reasons I could never figure out) and he’s always been in love with him, too. So dewy-eyed Anne carries the torch for ages, and things end up – well, not like you’d expect. Suffice to say the ending is not exactly the kind of feel-goody junk you usually get at the end of a chick flick.
At least one of them isn’t chasing the other one through an airport.
What I think happened was, it wasn’t the kind of a novel that makes a peppy screenplay. You follow these two people around from Scotland to England to France and over the long haul the book comes to some conclusions about Life and Stuff. Not exactly popcorn fare, y’know?
The film is directed by Lone Scherrig, the New Zealand director responsible for “An Education,” that fabulous movie from 2009.
Well, there is always something good to be found even in the worst movies, and it was a treat for us Anne Hathawatchers, with her wide Julia-esque smile, and big lanky little girl beauty. And Rafe Spall added a little comic relief playing an unfunny stand-up comic. Plus drifting through the landscapes of Europe is a much better way to spend a hot afternoon in Pittsburgh. If you add popcorn, anyway.
Film review by Carl Larsen
Carly at the Movies: Crazy, Stupid, Love
Remember the last time you left a theater so hopped up that you wanted to urge all your friends to see a particular movie instantly, but still not wanting to spill the beans about the plot because it was so rewarding? Like the first time you saw “Little Miss Sunshine” in 2007 or “Juno” in 2008? Well I’ve got a new one you: “Crazy, Stupid, Love.”
At first it seems like just another middle-aged-couple-bored-with-each-other-and-going-through-a-divorce movie. Gee, we’ve seen a zillion of those in the past few years. They usually star a few slightly older actors who can still draw a decent crowd, like Jack Nicholson or Jessica Lange or Harrison Ford.
But unlike those creaky old formula romances, this bright new film suddenly it takes off, following what seems like several different story lines about several different generations of people, each one as charming and courageously goofy as the last. And as the intricate tale tightens, the surprises begin to happen left and right, and the climax is simply brilliant, full of tenderness and recognition.
This romantic comedy drama has an ensemble cast that seems to have been put together in Casting Heaven. The leads are adorably cuckolded Steve Carell, smokey cuckolder Julianne Moore, and suave wingman Ryan Gosling, but everyone – absolutely everyone – adds depth to the story and delight to the beholder.
Three semi-newcomers stand out: old beyond his young years Jonah Bobo, starry-eyed teenager Analeigh Tipton, and healthy hottie Emma Stone. Toss in a pinch of Marisa Tomei (her funniest bit since “My Cousin Vinnie”), some watery-eyed Kevin Bacon, and stir with that naughty “Bad Santa” directing team of Glenn Ficarra and John Requa and you’ve got something to stew about.
The script was written (by Dan Fogelman) with real people wit instead of bathroom humor, and comes together so beautifully that you leave the theater with that glow of satisfaction you used to feel before most movies became nothing but dumbed-down vehicles for special effects.
This peachy hunk of cinema works on several levels, like the old Ron Howard classic “Parenthood” back in 1989. Young love and nearly-young love are explored hilariously, in a way I’ve never seen before. Middle-aged love with all its aches and pains is only heightened by Carell’s guy-next-doorness. And even the hip young dating scenes, full of twentysomethings too gorgeous to be alive even has a comic approach showcasing Gosling’s impressive talents. This guy is slicker than snot on a glass doorknob.
It is just so refreshing to see a film that is not about shallow and incredibly beautiful young girls who somehow fall desperately in love with ordinary guys who are either too fat, too stupid, too childish, or too terrified of commitment to merit existence. (Obviously, movies are made nowadays for the exclusive enjoyment of teenage boys, no matter what their age.)
Given that, you can understand why I’m so enthusiastic about “Crazy, Stupid, Love.” Gosh, if all movies were as good as this one, I’d quit working for a living and take up writing movie reviews.
Carly at the Movies column by Carl Larsen
Carly at the Movies: ‘Horrible Bosses’
It’s a shame that Shakespeare never hooked up with the Three Stooges, because together they might have come up with something like “Horrible Bosses,” a snart and funny new comedy that proves the head that wears a crrown sometimes gets bopped with a rolling pin.
Your grandma (well, mine, anyway) will probably tsk-tsk-tsk at all the smarmy, outright raunchy, dialogue. But those of us who can still giggle at the battle of the sexes will enjoy this light comedy. It stars Jason Bateman, Kevin Spacey, and a star-studded supporting cast that’s obviously having a ball, including Jennifer Anniston as a hot and horny dentist.
Bateman, as he did in the TV classic series “Arrested Development,” plays a suck-up stooge for C.E.O. Kevin Spacey in one of his patented Evil Overseer roles. Bateman meets the other two stooges, Charlie Day and Jason Sudeikis, at a local tavern and finds they are both also suffering Horrible Boss syndrome. It’s an ailment that many of us blue collar guys live with, but theirs are collectively – well, Horrible.
As they stand around guzzling beer and complaining, it isn’t long before you’ll be remembering “Strangers on a Train,” and following our friends in search of a hit man at a sleazy joint downtown. Enter Jamie Foxx as a cool combo con man and “murder consultant.”
Meanwhile, the other two horrid bosses, Colin Farrell and Ms. Anniston. are busy being bad – Colin attempting to destroy his old man’s company and sex-starved Jennifer contriving to deprive mild-mannered, squeaky-voiced Charlie Day of his pantaloons.
Donald Sutherland appears briefly as Farrell’s dad, and later in the film we find Julie Bowen and in a late cameo, the great Bob Newhart. Everyone is having a great time as the time-worn plot careens along its merry way. Despite the nagging sense of familiarity, you are dragged happily along by Seth Gordon’s smooth direction and a script that often becomes hilarious.
Bateman, Day, and Sudeikis (from SNL) share a frenetic sense of timing, spewing out funny lines hither and yon (as Shakespeare might say). This dark black comedy gives Kevin Spacey one of the funniest brief scenes in recent film history:
His reaction is triggered when he learns that Bateman’s grandmother has passed away.
That’s why he’s such a horrible boss.
Movie review by Carl Larsen
Carly at the Movies: ‘Bad Teacher’
Galileo lied. The old geezer claimed that the sun was the center of our solar system.
Well, he was obviously wrong. Our solar system is obviously boobacentric. Otherwise, why would a perfectly hot chick like Cameron Diaz go to so much trouble to raise ten thousand bucks for a boob job?
That’s the gnarly premise in the second Disgruntled Icon movie of the young summer. First there was Julia (Sigh!) Roberts teaching Speech Class in “Larry Crowne,” and now comes along Cameron Diaz, teaching Unacceptable Behavior in “Bad Teacher.” The title is honest, and the film is a heck of a lot funnier than was anticipated.
Cameron stars as an out-and-out gold digger, dumped by a rich dude, who decides to continue her teaching career in search of a rich high school instructor. (I’m sure there are millions of them around.)
In fact there is one, played by Justin Timberlake. (Note: I do not travel in the circle of people who are familiar with just it is that Justin Timberlake does, so I can only comment on his acting herein.) Justin Timberlake is adequate.
This is one of those films that reviewers always cop out on by saying, “it’s not for everyone.” Well, it’s not. But if you glggled, like I did, at the audacity and sassy, smirky black humor of “Bad Santa,” this film is a slam dunk.
Light-heartedly directed by Jake Kazdan, Miss Diaz proves once again that she is one of the best practditioners of screwball comedy in the whole knocked-up, knocker-loving universe known as Hollywood.
The secret to the success of bad teaching? Assemble a great supporting cast. Just look who’s in this film:
Jason Segel is that huge guy from “I Love You, Man” who was so blatantly humorous, and in this one he spends his time hitting on the hottie and half-heartedly teaching gym to the cowering students. Other sparkling professori at this Middle School include Phyllis Smith (of “The Office” fame), Molly Shannon, and a Just-Doesn’t-Get-It headmaster played by John Michael Higgins, one of my faves.
The star of the supporting cast, however, is Lucy Punch, playing one of those constantly upbeat, sugary sweet, phony baloney teachers we all know and hate. In the film she’s known as “Amy Squirrel” and is perfectdly named, as she tries to wiggle Justin out of Cameron’s grasp.
A note about Ms. Punch. She was picked by Variety Magazine as one of the ten newcomers to watch just last year, and is proving it. I’ve seen her in the wonderful British Sitcom “Doc Martin” (available on Netflix, and I’ve been waiting for a chance to recommend it to you) and she all but steals this movie from the top-liners.
What makes this film so funny? Cameron is everything we dreamed about as Middle School boys. We dared only to hope that someday we’d have a teacher who was a foul-mouthed, brazen, long-legged hottie who never game homework assignments and did nothing in class except show movies.
Perhaps you are wondering, by this time, if “Bad Teacher” is maybe without any visible social values. Well, there is a bit of a message there, tucked in amongst the irony of the endcing. But I left the theater wishing I had been gutsy enough, as a teacher, to acknowledge some of the hypocricy of the educational establishment.
But of course, that would have made me a bad teacher.
Carly at the Movies column by Carl Larsen
Carly at the Movies: ‘Crowne’-ing achievement
With the holiday theaters generating nothing but broken Transformers, Bad Teachers and pop-up Penguins, a hunk of fluff like “Larry Crowne” becomes a summery cinematic lifeboat for us adults.
Although it was savagely attacked by a phalanx of sophisticated film critics as being too corny and lacking chemistry, what could be more entertaining than an afternoon ride around the valley on a motor scooter driven by Tom Hanks, with Julia (Sigh!) Roberts clinging to his back?
Maybe the popcorn was just extra-tasty, or the air conditioned theater extra-comfy, but this romantic comedy about grown-ups dealing with adjusting to a post-recession world will leave you downright upbeat. It’s casually quite funny.
No one is very believable, of course, but everyone is happy and cheerful.
Cedric the Entertainer runs a front yard sale that’s about the size of Wal-Mart. And a gang of unusually pleasant scooter-riding college students are led by Araji P. Henson and Wilmer Valderrama playing against type. And there’s a speech class full of loveable misfits who learn (painlessly, yet) the art of public speaking.
George Takai is a gleeful Economics teacher in a dry-as-dust subject, and Julia? Sigh. For the first part of the film, she’s stuck with the only noticeable villain in sight, (a writer, naturally, who spends his days at his computer, guzzling booze and surfing porn sites – don’t they all?). He’s played alcoholically perfect by Bryan Cranston.
Once the villain (and the minor discount store baddies who fire poor Tom Hanks for being a great but uneducated employee) have been dispatched, the various joys of attending a speech class taught by Ms. Roberts ensue.
True, she and Tom do not have the sexually charged chemistry that, say, one finds in the recent rash of popular/moronic Teenage Vampire films. But Julia and Tom have both been around the block a couple times. They’re frankly refreshing, and able to actually communicate a healthy and mutual physical interest without thrusting their tongues down one anothers throat. Well, at least at first.
Mr. Hanks knew what he was doing to start with. After all, he directed the film, and co-wrote the script with Nia Vardalos (of Greek Wedding fame). He plays a nice guy, a Geezer-in-Training who’s put 20 years in the Navy as a cook, and then happily worked at U-Mart until being downsized.
One rather suspects that those film critics who blasted “Larry Crowne,” after enduring a summer of uninspiring sequals, noisy comic book heros dredged up from the 1940′s and action films offering naught but staggering stupidity, will look back on this mild little feel-good chick flick with something akin to nostalgia.
Film review by Carl Larsen
Bourne Again Christian invades the ‘Green Zone’
Column by Carl Larsen
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Nothing gets my dander up quicker than a healthy dose of good old American Righteous Indignation. And believe me, Matt Damon is so full of it in “Green Zone,” currently playing at the Regal Staunton Mall Cinema, that this erstwhile star of “The Bourne Identity,” “The Bourne Supremacy,” and “The Bourne Ultimatum” could easily be known as The Bourne Again Christian.
You can tell right away this tale, set in the chaotic early days of the Baghdad invasion (when Weapons of Mass Destruction were more real than Bush’s fantasy) is chock-a-block with Righteous Indignation. All the characters – government guys, CIA peeps, only-following-orders soldiers, reporters and noble savages all speak in deadly serious clichés. Continue reading “Bourne Again Christian invades the ‘Green Zone’” »
Carly at the Movies: The (Almost) Best (Probably) Films of Last Year
Posted by afp on January 18, 2012 · 2 Comments
Well, for most of us, most of the more obscure films have played in larger cities, quietly, for Critics, Indy film fans, and folks in the know, y’know. They’ll eventually get around to us regular people, although some won’t be available until they hit the DVD trail to Award Glory and immediate obscurity.
So now that 2012 is securely upon us, here’s my first list of the (almost) best – well, probably best – movies of last year. And once the films I have a sneaky suspicion are going to be worth seeing (such as “Take Shelter” become available, we’ll revise the list and everything will be hunky dory. Continue reading “Carly at the Movies: The (Almost) Best (Probably) Films of Last Year” »
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