7/15/15 (Part Three): Lost Swans and Hot Lead

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'90s homage, action films, action-comedies, Adam Buxton, Bad Boys, Bill Bailey, Bill Nighy, Billie Whitelaw, Blazing Saddles, British comedies, British films, Cate Blanchett, cinema, co-writers, cops behaving badly, David Arnold, David Threlfall, Edgar Wright, Edward Woodward, ensemble cast, Eric Mason, fast-paced, film reviews, films, goofy films, Hot Fuzz, ineffectual cops, Jess Hall, Jim Broadbent, Joe Cornish, Julia Deakin, Kevin Eldon, Lucy Punch, Martin Freeman, Movies, Nick Frost, Olivia Colman, Paddy Considine, Paul Freeman, Peter Wight, Point Blank, public decency, Rafe Spall, Ron Cook, Rory McCann, Shaun of the Dead, SImon Pegg, small town life, small-town British life, Stephen Merchant, Steve Coogan, Stuart Wilson, the Cornetto trilogy, The World's End, Timothy Dalton, UK films, urban vs rural, violent films, wisecracking cops, writer-actor, writer-director, Young Frankenstein

There’s something a little off in the sleepy, picturesque hamlet of Sandford, UK and it’s up to gung-ho London super-cop, Nick Angel, to figure out what it is. Sure, the inhabitants of the tranquil little village may seem impossibly friendly, the kind of small-town folks who know everyone’s names and just how many sugar cubes they take in their tea, thank you very much. Sandford may seem impossibly clean, neat and crime-free (no one in town, for example, has even heard of the “M-word” (Murder, doncha know?), let alone done the dirty deed), a peek into a peaceful township where the biggest problems are the “living statue” street performer and a “hoodie epidemic” that vexes the preternaturally polite populace something fierce.

Ask any genre fan worth their salt, however, and they’ll probably all say the same thing: small, quiet little towns like Sandford may seem like oases from the rat-race of the world at large but, dig a little deeper, and they’ll always produce more than their fair share of skeletons in the various closets. Behind every kind, small-town smile lurks a bottomless capacity for evil and down every immaculately cobblestoned pathway? Why, the very heart of Hell, itself! After all…can you really trust someone who seems so…nice?

If you’re Edgar Wright and the rest of his merry band of hooligans, the answer is an absolutely resounding “Hell no!” and the result is the second film in writer-director Wright’s “Cornetto Trilogy,” Hot Fuzz (2007). While the first film in the series, the modern classic Shaun of the Dead (2004), tipped the musty, old zombie film ass-over-tea-kettle, Hot Fuzz seeks to do the same for action-packed ’90s cop films (the final point of the trilogy, The World’s End (2013), takes on alien invasion epics). By using most of the same terrific ensemble from Shaun of the Dead and that patented zany brand of deadpan humor, Wright capitalizes on everything that made his previous film so much fun, while throwing plenty of bones to anyone weaned on actioners like Point Break (1991) or Bad Boys (1995). While the film is always a little goofy, it’s also a smart film, full of blink-and-miss-em visual references, plenty of silly action, some surprisingly bracing violence and enough witty dialogue and outrageous scenarios to keep the punters in stitches. In other words: prime Wright, through and through.

After Nick Angel is promoted to Sergeant and sent to the sticks (his always-on antics are making not only his police peers but his big-city superiors look like ineffectual morons), it looks like his eternal crime-fighting pilot light will be snuffed, never to blaze again. After he ends up in the middle of a pair of suspicious deaths that are unceremoniously labeled an “accident” by the local police force, Angel decides to do his own investigation, with the dunderheaded assistance of one PC Danny Butterman (Nick Frost), the fairly useless son of Angel’s new superior, Inspector Frank Butterman (Jim Broadbent).

As more and more “accidents” keep popping up, however, Angel begins to suspect that the sleepy town might harbor more below the surface than just an unhealthy interest in winning “Village of the Year.” As Nick and Danny butt heads with the local chamber of commerce, headed by Tom Weaver (a completely unrecognizable Edward Woodward) and slimy grocery-store impresario Simon Skinner (former 007 Timothy Dalton), they begin to get wind of a conspiracy that might, potentially, involve every resident of the lovely little town. When it begins to seem as if the pair have gotten in over their heads, however, there’s only one sure-fire fix: binge-watch ’90s action flicks and then take the fight right to the streets.

Is there really something going on, however, or is poor Nick just going completely stir-crazy in the snoozy little community? As he gets closer and closer to the truth, Nick will learn that there’s only a few things he can put his faith in: his unwavering belief in the absolute power of good over evil, his steadfast determination to rid the streets of any and all crime (shoplifters, beware!) and the universal truth that absolutely anything will explode into a towering fireball once shot. Bad boys? You better believe it, buddy!

Reprising their winning chemistry from Shaun of the Dead, if not their actual characters, Pegg and Frost are exceptionally bright points of light in the altogether brilliant constellation that comprises Hot Fuzz’s ensemble. Martin Freeman, Bill Nighy and Steve Coogan pop up, briefly, as Nick’s self-serving London superiors…writer-directors Joe Cornish, Peter Jackson and Wright, himself, all have cameos…Cate Blanchett stops by for an unannounced turn as Nick’s unfaithful former girlfriend…Paddy Considine and Rafe Spall show up as a couple of idiotic cops nicknamed “the Andes” (since they’re both named Andy, dig?)…the always amazing Olivia Colman (Peep Show, as well as endless other British endeavors) has a blast as snarky PC Doris Thatcher…the aforementioned Dalton (one twirled mustache removed from silent-era villainy) and Woodward (best known on this side of the pond for his titular role as TV’s Equalizer, on the other side for his landmark performance in The Wicker Man (1973)) chew miles of scenery…writer-actor Stephen Merchant gets a great bit as Peter Ian Staker (or P.I. Staker, for the punny win)…virtually every second of screentime is occupied by a phenomenal actor given free rein to be patently awesome.

The result, of course, is an incredibly immersive experience, the equivalent of Mel Brooks’ ridiculously star-studded classics like Young Frankenstein (1974) or Blazing Saddles (1974). When combined with the picturesque locations, the over-the-top action sequences and the often absurd comedy, Hot Fuzz (like the other two films in the Cornetto Trilogy) is its own self-contained universe. It’s this quality that allows moments like Adam Buxton’s outrageously gory death (his head is reduced into a fine mist via the timely application of a fallen stone block) or the unrelentingly action-packed finale to sit comfortably beside more “high-brow” comedy fare like the scene where Angel engages in a crossword duel with a cagey old lady or the one where he rides through town to the tune of the Kinks’ “Village Green Preservation Society.”

There are great throwaway jokes about the amount of damage caused by “good guys” in action movies, the tendency of small-town busybodies to focus on pointless “outrages” like hoodie sweatshirts and street performers over more important issues like corruption and justice and how small town folks in films often slot effortlessly into the “sinister locals” category (one of the townsfolk was an extra in Peckinpah’s Straw Dogs (1971), we’re told on more than one occasion). There’s great comic material here both high and low, literally something for any fan of the funny stuff.

One of the smartest tricks Wright and company utilize is the restaging of famous action movie setpieces from the likes of pop-culture phenomena like Point Break and Bad Boys. While these scenes would function just fine in a vacuum, previous knowledge of Danny Butterman’s much-loved action films makes the experience that much richer: there may be no more sublime scene in the entire film than the one where Nick and Skinner battle it out over the ruins of a scale-model version of the town. As the two punch it out, like warring Gargantua or Godzilla with a particularly stiff upper-lip, a broken fire hydrant supplies a continuous shower of water over the two: in other words, Wright goes ahead and gives us one of those clichéd old bits where the hero and villain fight it out in the rain, pounding abuse on each other as the very skies join in. And it works gloriously: somewhere in “movie heaven,” Riggs and Murtagh are looking down, fondly, I’m willing to wager.

In feel (and tone), Hot Fuzz probably hews a little closer to its follow-up, The World’s End, than its predecessor, Shaun of the Dead. Hot Fuzz, however, like the films it references, is an altogether bigger, noisier and more boisterous affair than either of the other films: while Shaun of the Dead was full of great setpieces and The World’s End managed to take a leap into much “bigger” themes, the action beats of the middle film are their own little world. Hot Fuzz is a little “dumber” and “slighter” than the other two but that’s also to be expected: you don’t wade into the fray of silly, adrenalized action movies without getting a little of it on your shirtsleeves, after all.

Despite being less than enamored with Hot Fuzz upon its initial release, the film has grown on me, over the years, in a way that I’m not sure Shaun or World’s End has (although World’s End still has plenty of time to go): once I allowed myself to get swept away by the film’s loud, Technicolor action and ferocious sense of energy, however, it became easier to absorb the more subtle, truly ingenious elements to Wright’s style.

If you grew up on ’90s actioners, harbor suspicions against the status quo or fancy yourself a bit of a lone wolf, Wright and Pegg’s Hot Fuzz practically demands another viewing. Come for the gleeful chaos and copious explosions but stay for the kind of insightful, in-depth and subtle commentary that we’ve come to expect from one of genre cinema’s most unusual visionaries. As Michael might say: “Yarp.” Yarp, indeed.

2/24/14: We All Go a Little Mad (Oscar Bait, Part 8)

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2013 Academy Awards, Alec Baldwin, Andrew Dice Clay, Annie Hall, auteur theory, Best Actress nominee, Best Actress Winner, Best of 2013, Best Original Screenplay nominee, Best Supporting Actress nominee, Blue Jasmine, Cate Blanchett, cinema, despression, drama, Film auteurs, film reviews, films, Ginger, investment fraud, Jasmine, Louis CK, mental illness, narcissism, Oscar nominee, Oscars, Peter Sarsgaard, Sally Hawkins, socialite, Stardust Memories, white-collar-crime, Woody Allen, writer-director

My quest to catch up continues as we now enter the week before the Academy Awards. Journey with me now to a distant past, one where we could still only speculate as to any given winner, a time when The Act of Killing seemed like a lock for Best Doc and “Alright, alright, alright” was only something that an impatient person might say. The week leading up to the Oscars was jam-packed with nominated films. The first one up? Woody Allen’s Blue Jasmine.

Who among us really enjoys hanging out with fractured, damaged individuals? Not tolerates, mind you, or “does one’s duty” but actually spends time with a complete mess and has a great time? The answer, I’m relatively positive, would be that very few people, aside from masochists, actually derive any real pleasure from neurotic, morose, over-emotional basket-cases. Who among us, however, enjoys watching these individuals from the (relative) comfort and safety of our living rooms? That answer, at least judging by our collective viewing habits, would be quite different. Damaged people make terrible friends but they make really great fodder for entertainment, especially when springing from the fully loaded imagination of Mr. Neurotic himself, Woody Allen.

As a filmmaker, Allen is almost a cottage industry, bringing audiences decade after decade of schlubs, nebbishes, jerks, wallflowers, social misfits and generally unpleasant people. That he’s managed to present these characters for nearly 50 years is impressive enough but Allen has (usually) managed the rather nifty hat-trick of making these fractured folks at least somewhat likable. At the very least, these are people that we recognize (whether or not we recognize them from the mirror, however, is a whole ‘nother kettle of fish), friends, neighbors and family that drive us to distraction but still, for some reason, deserve our love at the end of the day.

Blue Jasmine, Woody Allen’s 44th feature film (yikes!), introduces us to one of his most prickly, unpleasant creations: Jasmine (Cate Blanchett). In an Allen multiverse filled with neurotic characters, Jasmine may just reign as their queen. We first meet her overwhelming an old lady on a plane with her life-story, a bludgeoning than continues all the way onto the tarmac and into baggage claim. Jasmine never stops talking and the old lady never has a chance to do much of anything but smile politely and nod. Once they separate, the old woman’s husband asks her about Jasmine, only to be told that she seemed to be talking to herself. One encounter in, we get the message loud and clear: Jasmine is her own best friend and worst enemy.

Jasmine goes to stay with her sister Ginger (Sally Hawkins), which is a decided change from the old days when Jasmine and her white-collar-criminal husband, Hal (Alec Baldwin), were on top of the New York social scene. Many defrauded investors and a prison-stay for Hal (where he hangs himself) later, Ginger and her new boyfriend, Chili (Bobby Canavale) must help to take care of the penniless, clueless Jasmine. Just as spoiled, privileged and nasty as she was back in the “good ol’ days” but with none of the money and fancy apartments to back it up, Jasmine must, somehow, integrate herself into a world that is not only frightening and mystifying but most certainly beneath her. As Jasmine sails from one unpleasant realization to another, she comes to see that the people you step on while you climb are the same people who end up stepping on you. Will she learn the lesson too late or is there still hope for this entitled twit?

In a long career filled with buoyant highs (Annie Hall, Manhattan, Stardust Memories, Radio Days), Blue Jasmine easily stands as one of Woody Allen’s finest films. In fact, the film was probably my favorite Allen film since Radio Days and easily stands tall next to his established classics. As usual with Allen’s films, the various ingredients poured into this make all the difference in the final product. Start with a smart, sharp script that graces everyone in the cast with some truly juicy dialogue. Add in one of those stereotypically far-reaching, all-star Woody Allen ensembles (Blanchett, Baldwin, Hawkins, Andrew Dice Clay, Louis CK, Peter Sarsgaard, et al). Mix in some incredibly complex characterizations and voila! You have one Blue Jasmine.

In a film filled with great performances, however, three actors really stand out: Blanchett, Hawkins and Clay. Blanchett ended up winning the Academy Award for Best Actress and the choice was a complete no-brainer: no matter how good any of the other nominees were, Blanchett was just that much better. Period. I’m not even a huge fan of hers, to be honest, and I found her entire performance to be utterly captivating and impossible to look away from. While Jasmine is not a likable character, she is a completely relateable one, a person that we’ve all known and (perhaps) been. It’s to Blanchett’s tremendous credit that she makes the finale such a complete punch in the gut: without her fearless, withering performance, the final twist (and it is a twist, folks, almost as nifty as the ones Shyamalan used to pull off) would have nearly the impact. As it was, the final shot had me completely devastated: she’d already won the statue by that point, as far as I’m concerned. Initially, I thought that Blanchett’s Jasmine would serve as this film’s Allen stand-in but she ends up being even more irreparably damaged than his protagonists usually are: this is the dark side of the neuroticism he normally traffics in.

Sally Hawkins, although not as dynamic as Blanchett, does amazing things with the potentially thankless role of sister Ginger. There is real pain in Hawkins performance, along with a surprising amount of self-assurance and joy. For the most part, Ginger is marginalized by everyone around her and it would be the easiest thing in the world for her to shut down and play the victim, as Jasmine so readily does. Instead of that, however, Ginger continues to love and keep her heart open, despite the constant negative reinforcement she receives from guys like Chili and Al (Louis CK). Blue Jasmine was never Ginger’s movie but it’s a film that wouldn’t exist without her, at least not with the same kind of soul and passion. Although I didn’t feel that Hawkins performance was the best of the year, I was still overjoyed to see her at least acknowledged with a nomination. Any actor was going to stand in Blanchett’s shadow on this one but Hawkins managed to hold her own.

In the complete surprise category, however, we have Andrew Dice Clay as Ginger’s prickly ex-husband, Augie. Full disclosure: I’ve never cared for Clay, particularly back during his foul-mouthed “golden years.” His performance in Blue Jasmine, however, was a complete revelation. Not only was Clay completely invested in the character (this was no Ford Fairlaine, for sure) but he managed to make Augie extremely likable. There was still some of Clay’s blue-collar jerkitude in evidence but Augie is no cardboard-cutout. Similar to the ways that John Travolta and Burt Reynolds had their careers resuscitated via Pulp Fiction and Boogie Nights, I sincerely hope that Clay’s turn in Blue Jasmine ushers in a new era for him. After this, he’s earned my respect enough to check out his next project…providing he doesn’t decide to grace us with Brainsmasher 2, that is.

While I certainly wasn’t surprised that Blue Jasmine (and Allen) were under-represented at this year’s Oscars, I was definitely disappointed. Allen, much like Polanski, is a highly polarizing figure whose personal and professional lives often become a bit too intertwined, at least as far as the general populace goes. Love him or hate him, however, there’s absolutely no one who should deny what an astounding film Blue Jasmine is. If you’ve always been an Allen fan, rest assured that Blue Jasmine is one of his all-time bests. If you’re not an Allen fan, you still owe it to yourself to see the film, especially you’ve ever know anyone who’s struggled with depression or mental illness. Blue Jasmine is many things: funny, sad, infuriating, uplifting. The one thing it’s not, however, is easily ignored.

My 2013 Academy Award Picks

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2013 Academy Awards, 86th Annual Academy Awards, Academy Award guesses, Academy Awards, Alexander Payne, Alfonso Cuaron, award shows, Captain Phillips, Cate Blanchett, cinema, Dallas Buyers Club, Film, Movies, Nebraska, Oscars

With the 86th annual Academy Awards ceremony drawing ever closer, I thought now might be as good a time as any to offer up my list of winners for this year’s event. This year actually marks the first time in quite some time (since the ’90s, I think) that I’ve been able to see a pretty fair percentage of the nominated films, so I hope that my “educated” guess end up being a bit more accurate than my “shot-in-the-darks” from the past.

Despite a concentrated effort to see as many nominated films as possible this year (including a last minute trip to the theater this coming weekend to see Philomena), there have still been several films that I truly regret missing. Any of these, I’m sure, would have been worthy contenders but I just never ended up getting to them before the ceremony: Her; The Wolf of Wall Street; August: Osage County; Ernest & Celestine; The Wind Rises; Inside Llewyn Davis; The Missing Picture; and Omar

Without further ado, no fanfare and a certain amount of self-doubt, then, I present my 2014 choices.

— Best Picture: I would love to see Nebraska win but I have a feeling that American Hustle might win, which will be a little sad.

— Best Director: My personal preference would be Alexander Payne but I could totally see Alfonso Cuaron taking the statue and I wouldn’t mind in the slightest.

— Best Actor: I feel that Dern and McConaughey are neck-and-neck for this but I think that McConaughey displayed the wider range and really inhabits his character completely. Any other time, I would be 100% behind Chiwetel Ejiofor but Dern and McConaughey were real show-stoppers.

— Best Actress: Without seeing Judi Dench in Philomena, I’m inclined to go with Cate Blanchett. My opinion might change after this weekend but Blanchett was pretty stunning in Blue Jasmine.

— Best Original Screenplay: They were both exceptionally sharp and witty but I fell completely in love with Bob Nelson’s script for Nebraska just a bit more than Woody Allen’s for Blue Jasmine. Either one are suitable choices, as far as I’m concerned, and Dallas Buyers Club would be up here in a less crowded year.

— Best Adapted Screenplay: My gut instinct tells me to go with Philomena on this one, even though I’ve yet to see it. Of the other two I saw (Captain Phillips, 12 Years a Slave), I felt that the former had a pretty bad script, to be honest, and that the latter had a pretty good script. Probable winner? Before Midnight, methinks.

— Best Supporting Actress: Before watching Nebraska, I felt that 12 Years a Slave’s Lupita Nyong’o was a total lock for this. Afterwards, however, there’s just no way I can’t throw love in June Squibb’s direction. Her performance as Kate was an absolute stunner: if you don’t have at least one relative like this, you probably don’t have any family at all.

Best Supporting Actor: Without a doubt, this deserves to go to Barkhad Abdi for Captain Phillips. I would also accept Jared Leto for Dallas Buyers Club but will flip my wig if Fassbender wins: I didn’t find anything exceptional about his performance in 12 Years a Slave whatsoever.

Best Animated Film: I’ve only seen the Croods, thus far, so I don’t have much to go on. I absolutely loved the film, however, so it would be just dandy if it won the gold statuette. My instinct? The Wind Rises, for the win.

Best Cinematography: Before Nebraska, Gravity would have been the no-brainer here. After soaking in Nebraska’s gorgeous and completely evocative black-and-white cinematography, however, I’m ready to call an audible and buck the obvious choice. Don’t get me wrong: the camera-work in Gravity was jaw-dropping. The camera-work in Nebraska, however, was heart-breaking.

Best Costume Design: The only two entries I saw in this category (American Hustle, 12 Years) didn’t blow me away at all, so I’m going to go with one I didn’t see: The Great Gatsby. No matter how empty Luhrmann films might be, the always look great and I’m sure Gatsby’s no exception.

Best Documentary Feature: In any other year, any of the other docs (with the possible exception of 20 Feet From Stardom) would have been easy contenders. This year, there’s only one that could: The Act of Killing. This will end up being the “Free Spot” in any Oscar-guessers Bingo card: mark my words.

Best Documentary Short: I didn’t manage to see any of these but my money is on The Lady in Number 6, particularly since the subject just died a few days ago.

Best Film Editing: I’m inclined to go with Gravity but Captain Phillips was pretty seamlessly edited, as well. Any picks for tech awards besides Gravity feel a little iffy this season, however, so Gravity is probably the safer best.

Best Foreign Language Film: I’ve only seen one, The Hunt, and I thought it was a stunner. That being said, I’ll be seeing two more before Sunday (The Broken Circle Breakdown and The Great Beauty) and there’s every chance that Broken Circle will wreck me completely. We’ll see.

Best Makeup and Hairstyling: If Dallas Buyers Club doesn’t get it, the award better go to Bad Grandpa so we at least get the chance of a pithy Knoxville quote.

Best Original Score: The only one I saw on the short-list was Gravity and, to be honest, I wasn’t overly impressed (most of the time). My bet is on Her, since William Butler and Owen Pallet did the score: that’s some serious indie-rock nirvana, right there.

Best Original Song: Without hearing any of them (or seeing the requisite films), I’m going to do the obvious thing and select Frozen’s “Let it Go.” My other choice would have been the odd Christian song but those jerks removed that option: what nerve!

Best Production Design: I’m inclined to say Gravity but, as mentioned above, I’m pretty sure that The Great Gatsby was a visual stunner. I could see either of those winning, with American Hustle serving as a sneaky wildcard.

Best Animated Short Film: I didn’t manage to see any of these this year but the retro-animated Disney short Get a Horse! seems like a pretty obvious contender.

Best Live Action Short Film: My knowledge of these entries, unfortunately, only extends to their titles, so this one is a complete wash.

Best Sound Editing: As mentioned above, any tech awards guesses that don’t feature Gravity are probably lost causes but I (for some reason) could see either Captain Phillips or The Hobbit 1.2 taking this award.

Best Sound Mixing: I’m going with Gravity, again, but this could also go to Phillips or The Hobbit. Possible wildcard? Lone Survivor, whose only nominations were for both sound categories. Perhaps the Academy knows something I don’t?

Best Visual Effects: I’m, obviously, inclined to give the trophy to Gravity. I wasn’t particularly impressed by the visual effects in the first part of The Hobbit and, since all three films were made simultaneously, I expect more of the same in the second installment. Furthermore, voters already rejected The Hobbit once, last year, in favor of Life of Pi. Is it so hard to imagine the same thing won’t happen again with Gravity?

So there you have it: my not-so humble picks for this year’s ceremony. All in all, this ended up being a pretty damn good year for movies: it will be interesting to see what long-shots and sure-things end up pulling through this Sunday.