2/21/15 (Part Four): The Fiddle, The Flame and The Left Behind

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87th Annual Academy Awards, Academy Award Nominee, air evacuations, Ambassador Graham Martin, archival footage, Best Feature Documentary nominee, black ops, cinema, Communism, covert military action, documentary, fall of Saigon, film reviews, films, Henry Kissinger, interviews, Keven McAlester, Last Days in Vietnam, Mark Bailey, moral dilemmas, Movies, PBS, refugees, Richard Armitage, Rory Kennedy, South Vietnam, South Vietnamese, troop withdrawal, U.S. embassy, Viet Cong, Vietnam, Vietnam War, war, work camps

When the Paris Agreement was signed in 1973, effectively ending America’s involvement in the Vietnam War and withdrawing the bulk of our troops, legendary diplomat Henry Kissinger hoped that the resolution would lead to a situation similar to that in Korea: two separate states, one for the North Vietnamese and one for the South. These hopes were shattered when the North launched a massive assault on South Vietnam, systematically taking back any territory that had been ceded only a few short years earlier. With fresh memories of the atrocities that the North inflicted on their first campaign through Vietnam, the South Vietnamese civilians (and military) fled in panic before the rising surge. As the country was quickly retaken by the North, it became apparent that the cause was lost: at this point, the only thing to be done was for the refugees and remaining American military and diplomats to leave as soon as possible. Despite the increasingly dark clouds on the horizon, however, one man was determined to make a stand and prevent the inevitable: as the North marched and the South fled, U.S. Ambassador Graham Martin was determined to stand strong, come hell or high water.

This story of American involvement, Northern aggression and Southern stoicism forms the foundation of Rory Kennedy’s Last Days in Vietnam (2014), the full-length, Oscar-nominated ‘American Experience’ documentary that details the time period between American withdrawal in 1973 and the fall of Saigon in April 1975. Through a mixture of archival footage and interviews with American and Vietnamese military personnel, Kennedy shows the ways in which Ambassador Martin stalled the withdrawal as long as possible, partly because he refused to admit defeat but also because he seemed to genuinely want to save as many South Vietnamese civilians and military as possible. As one interviewee states, this “terrible moral dilemma” was the ax that hung over everyone’s heads, from President Gerald Ford to Richard Armitage to the individual men and women who were stationed in Vietnam. Despite having their marching orders, no one on the ground could just stand by and watch their former comrades-in-arms succumb to the very enemy they’d been jointly fighting: while not everyone made it out (short of a miracle, not everyone could have), thousands of South Vietnamese were rescued at the 11th hour, thanks to a combination of Ambassador Martin’s moxie, military black ops and good, old-fashioned stubbornness.

One of the most illuminating aspects of Kennedy’s documentary is its laser focus: rather than rehash pro and con arguments for America’s involvement in the Vietnam War, Last Days in Vietnam focuses on the very end game, when everything had already been decided and the world only waited for the dust (and blood) to settle. It’s a smart move, since it allows the film to really dig in to its subject: in particular, we end up with a pretty balanced, nuanced portrayal of Graham Martin, an individual who’s easily as divisive as they come. While there’s still more than a heaping dollop of political machinations to Ambassador Martin’s decision to delay withdrawing from Vietnam, it’s pretty hard to deny that he also carried very deeply for the South Vietnamese: his plan to stretch out the withdrawal by only including a couple of Americans in every chopper full of South Vietnamese was a bold one and one that could have easily blown up in his face. Regardless of what U.S. politicians were doing at the time, the diplomats and personnel who were actually on the ground, in the shit, were scrambling to come up with real solutions and plans of action, even as Viet Cong tanks rumbled through the countryside.

Some of the most powerful scenes in the film deal directly with the South Vietnamese military: the bit where a pilot heroically lands his chopper on a U.S. naval carrier, rolling out one side of the machine before the whole thing slides right into the ocean; the interviewee who talk about missing the last chopper out of Saigon and spending the next 13 years in a North Vietnamese work camp; the heartbreaking moment where the South Vietnamese military lower their flag and sing their anthem for the last time…when Last Days in Vietnam kicks, it kicks like a mule. Just as powerful, for different reasons, is the scene where Martin finally admits defeat and prepares for “Option Four (the chopper evacuation)”: for the first time in the footage, Martin looks old, tired and defeated, a quick-witted huckster watching his kingdom burn for the last time.

As a film, Last Days in Vietnam is very well-made, although it never feels far removed from what it actually is: a PBS documentary. As such, we get all of the expected elements, from the archival footage to the overall tone. While the film was informative, it never really surprised or went the extra mile needed to really set itself apart. Nevertheless, history buffs, those interested in the Vietnam War or the vagaries of America’s international diplomatic policies should plenty of good stuff here. More than anything, Kennedy’s film helps to shed light on a chaotic, dark and terrible time in human history: it shows how oppression can dim but never truly extinguish the human pilot light…where there’s a will, there’s a way, no matter how slim.

If the point of history truly is to learn from the past and avoid the same mistakes in the future, may films like Last Days in Vietnam and their ilk continue to make it impossible for us to ever truly bury these terrible events. If we ever really need a reminder, let’s think about the thousands of refugees who were able to make it out…and the hundreds of thousands who didn’t.

1/17/15 (Part One): Set An Extra Place at the Table

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A Lonely Place to Die, action films, Adam Wingard, Best of 2014, Brendan Meyer, brother-sister relationships, bullies, Chase Williamson, children in peril, cinema, covert military action, Dan Stevens, dark comedies, Drive, electronic score, families, favorite films, film reviews, films, Joel David Moore, Lance Reddick, Leland Orser, Maika Monroe, military coverup, military experiment, Movies, mystery, Robby Baumgartner, Sheila Kelley, Simon Barrett, Steve Moore, stylish films, Tabatha Shaun, The Guest, thrillers, war veterans, writer/director teams, You're Next

Hot on the heels of their surprise hit, You’re Next (2013), director Adam Wingard and writer Simon Barrett have returned with another gleefully demented genre offering. Whereas their last film took the “home invasion” sub-genre into some truly inspired new directions, this time around, the dynamic duo have set their sights on “stranger in our home” films. Like You’re Next, The Guest (2014) is a gonzo good time, full of clever writing, subtle black-as-coal humor and some truly asskicking action setpieces. At the center of the film is a truly inspired trio of performance from Dan Stevens as the handsome, charismatic and ultra-sensitive “golden boy” who may or may not be a murderous psychopath and Maika Monroe and Brendan Meyer as the savvy kids who may or may not be able to stop him dead in his tracks. The end result? Over 90 minutes of pure, pulpy, cinematic bliss and another check in the “Win” column for the Wingard/Barrett juggernaut.

As the Peterson’s mourn the unexpected death of their soldier son, Caleb, in Iraq, a mysterious visitor shows up and puts the household into a topspin. David (Dan Stevens), a quiet, ridiculously polite and charismatic young man, claims to be a friend of Caleb’s and fellow soldier. After getting discharged, David sought out the Petersons, as per Caleb’s last wish, in order to “watch over them.” Mother Laura (Sheila Kelley) is only too happy to have David around, since any reminder of her beloved son is a good thing. Father Spencer (Leland Orser), however, isn’t quite as big on David, worried that the seemingly nice young man might have a bit of “the PTSD.” For their parts, Caleb’s sister and brother, Anna (Maika Monroe) and Luke (Brendan Meyer), seem to regard David with a mixture of curiosity and faint amusement: the guy is so unbelievably polite and nice that he might as well have stepped out of a woodcut, for all his old-fashioned “aw shucks”-ness.

David ends up staying with the Petersons and goes about the business of ingratiating himself into the family’s good graces: he helps Luke with his homework (with some difficulty), drinks beers with Spencer as he pours his heart out about his shitty job, helps Laura around the house and goes with Anna to a Halloween party. All seems nice and normal, even if we sometimes get shots of a pensive David that border on the unsettling. At one point, Spencer asks David if he’s tired: “I don’t need much sleep,” he responds, with a knowing look, and anyone paying attention should get a little of the ol’ goose flesh.

The situation hits a new level when David finds out that Luke is being bullied at school: in a truly awe-inspiring scene, David has Luke take him to the bullies, at an isolated roadside bar well-known for serving minors. After taunting the high school toughs with a particularly offensive drink order, David proceeds to wipe the bar up with the creeps in a scene that makes Road House (1989) look like a commercial for allergy medicine. The point is crystal clear: David is absolutely not the kind of guy that you want to fuck with, in any way, shape or form.

As David continues to thread his way through the lives of the various Petersons, however, Anna begins to notice that strange things are happening all around them, including the unexpected death of one of her friends. As Anna begins to believe that David might not be quite who he seems, the rest of the family seem to close ranks, more convinced than ever that David is a true-blue friend and confident. Is Anna right or has she unfairly maligned this sweet, young man? Will she be able to convince her family of the “truth” (whatever that might be) before it’s too late? Why, exactly, is David here? Is he really trying to protect the family, at all costs, or is his real mission to destroy everything? By the time it’s all over, Anna will have learned a very important lesson: always be careful who you invite into your home…not all guests are created equal.

Similar to You’re Next, The Guest is sort of a hybrid-genre film, melding together elements of action, horror, thriller, comedy and drama into one seriously delicious stew. The film is stuffed to bursting with some ridiculously energetic action setpieces (the bar beat-down is, without a doubt, solid gold: if you don’t shadowbox the screen, you might be watching a different film), as well as some genuinely nail-biting moments of pure tension. The drama elements are well-represented via the family’s interpersonal dynamics and the ways in which they subtly come to accept (and rely on) David’s presence in their lives. One of the biggest and best surprises regarding The Guest is how funny it actually is: while this is certainly not an out-and-out laugh-riot, the vein of dark humor that runs through the film is quite pronounced and leads to some of its best moments. The bar fight sequence is a great example of all of the elements coming together in one heady moment: this is the kind of genre splicing that folks like Robert Rodriguez and Quention Tarantino excel in and Wingard/Barrett knock it right out of the park.

At times, The Guest almost plays like a more tongue-in-cheek, conventional version of Refn’s Drive (2011): the production values are high, the John Carpenter-influenced electro-score (courtesy of Steve Moore) is utterly fantastic and the whole thing is stylish almost to a fault (the finale, in particular, is an absolute masterclass in stylish anarchy). Where Ryan Gosling’s Driver was a self-styled, if nihilistic, white knight, however, Dan Steven’s David is a decidedly more shadowy individual: for the majority of the film, it’s impossible to really gauge his motives, lending an overriding air of unease and tension to the proceedings. We knew why the Driver was doing what he did, regardless of how violent, self-destructive or pointless his actions, but we’re never sure about David. Even when he’s whupping ass on the “bad guys,” we’re still never quite sure if he’s right or wrong.

While the entire cast is solid, Stevens, Monroe and Meyer are exceptional as the trio at the center of everything. Monroe is a nice, strong female character, with a sardonic edge and just enough youthful inconsistency to make her seem like a real person, rather than a stock “final girl.” For his part, Meyer makes Luke quite likable, while still allowing for subtle hints of darkness around the edges: the scene where he emulates David and kicks the shit out of one of his bullies is all kinds of awesome but it’s also kind of scary and unhinged: predominantly known for TV roles in the past, here’s to hoping that Meyer gets more opportunities like this to stretch his wings.

And then, of course, there’s Dan Stevens. Almost supernaturally good-looking, with piercing eyes and a purposefully blank expression, the British actor is the kind of fellow that you might expect to play a prince in a life-action Disney film, not a potentially insane and murderous misanthrope. His performance is pitch-perfect, however, full of the kind of subtle mannerisms and expressions that build his character without handing the audience a cheat-sheet to follow along with. When David is being nice, he’s the kind of dude that everybody wants to hang out with: nowhere is this made more clear than the awesome scene where David triumphantly walks into the Halloween party, carrying kegs like they were six-packs. It’s the kind of bit that makes you want to high-five the nearest bro. When David unleashes the darkness, however, he’s absolutely terrifying, leading to some of the most surprising, shocking bursts of violence I’ve seen in some time. It’s a terrific balancing act and it’s to Stevens immense credit that he makes it look so easy. Let’s hope this is but Act One of Steven’s career in genre films, since we could absolutely use more of this guy ASAP.

Perhaps the most important aspect of The Guest is how much fun it is. Like You’re Next, Wingard and Barrett’s newest film is an absolute blast from start to finish: adrenalized, stylish and smart, The Guest is almost calculatedly crowd-pleasing, jumping from one awesome setpiece to the next. If the ultimate revelation about what’s going on is both a little silly and a little tired, it’s the only thing about The Guest that ever feels less than totally righteous: I’m not saying that I disliked the “reveal” so much as that I felt Barrett could have come up with something a little stronger and/or stranger. That being said, I wouldn’t change a single frame of the climax, which manages to toe the line between “ridiculous” and “ridiculously cool” with total aplomb.

Ultimately, The Guest is a metric ton of good times, all wrapped up in a nice, shiny package. When the film is completely off-the-rails, such as the bar fight, Halloween party and finale, it’s completely unbeatable. More than just an asskicking action film, however, Wingard and Barrett toss all kinds of subtle details into the mix that constantly elevate the film. From David’s extremely awkward sex scene with one of Anna’s friends to the subtle moment where David and Luke carve pumpkins to the triumphant scene where David takes Luke’s obnoxious principal to task, there are so many little quirks here that add immeasurably to the richness of the film’s tableau.

Judging by this film and You’re Next, it would seem that Wingard and Barrett have decided to be the preeminent neo-thriller advocates for our modern day and age. All I can say to that is: bring on the next one, ASAP…we need more of these films like we need water and oxygen.

1/3/15 (Part Five): Reset Your Life

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action films, alien invasion, alternate title, based on a graphic novel, Best of 2014, Bill Paxton, Brendan Gleeson, Christopher McQuarrie, cinema, covert military action, Dion Beebe, Doug Liman, Edge of Tomorrow, Emily Blunt, favorite films, film reviews, films, Go, Groundhog Day, Jez Butterworth, John-Henry Butterworth, Jonas Armstrong, Kick Gurry, Live Die Repeat, Mimics, Movies, multiple writers, Omega Mimic, regeneration, sci-fi, science-fiction, special-effects extravaganza, super soldiers, Swingers, The Bourne Identity, Tom Cruise, Tony Way, unable to die, video game, video games

When I call Doug Liman’s Edge of Tomorrow (2014) the best video game movie I’ve ever seen, understand that’s neither sarcasm nor a pejorative: it really is the one film that perfectly encapsulates everything that’s great about video games and successfully translates it to the big screen. Like the best video games, it’s got a gripping storyline to lead from one action setpiece to the next, a wannabe hero who becomes our avatar into the action and a precise understanding of the importance of multiple lives and the need to reset the whole game from time to time. The fact that Edge of Tomorrow can function as the equivalent of a life-action video game and still maintain enough genuine emotional heft and three-dimensional characters to seem like the furthest thing from a video game is one of the reasons why the film was one of the best of 2014.

Functioning as sort of a first-person-shooter take on Groundhog Day (1993), we get dropped into a reality where the Earth is under attack from an alien menace dubbed the Mimics. The Mimics are horrendously lethal, tentacled monstrosities that prove especially efficient at destroying soft-skinned humans and have proceeded to put the entire species into a serious headlock. After we develop exo-suit technology and creat “super soldiers,” however, we begin to fight back against the extraterrestrial menace and slowly make headway. The forces of humanity are now gathering for a last, desperate push against the Mimic threat on the European front (ala World War 2), a campaign that is being called “Operation Downfall.”

Into this set-up, we get the snide, arrogant, paper-pushing personality of Major William Cage (Tom Cruise). A proud desk jockey and bureaucrat, Cage is the furthest thing from a soldier, despite his rank. He gets the nasty shock of a lifetime, therefore, when he’s called before the imposing person of General Brigham (Brendan Gleeson) and ordered to the frontline. Stripped of his rank, labeled a coward and handed over to the tender mercies of Master Sargeant Farell (Bill Paxton) and the rowdy grunts of J Squad, Cage is pretty much a sitting duck. Once he actually gets to the battlefield, however, he quickly becomes a cooked duck. Game over.

Until, that is, Cage wakes up back at the army base, on the morning of his previous death. Through some sort of exposure to the Mimic’s blood, Cage has now acquired their ability to “reset the day,” as it were: every time he dies, he’s just brought right back to the base, in the morning. As he works through this horrendous case of deja vu, Cage comes into contact with a highly skilled “super-soldier,” Sgt. Rita Pitaki (Emily Blunt), who knows exactly what he’s going through: after all, she used to have the same “condition” until recently. Rita wants to use Cage’s ability to put an end to the Mimic menace once and for all: if he can lead them to the Omega Mimic (and keep dying/resetting in the process), the human forces will be able to strike a decisive victory against the enemy, ending the nightmare.

Cage, however, is such a wimp that he can’t survive in the fury of battle for five minutes, let alone the length of time it will take to lead them to the Omega Mimic. Cue a rigorous training regime that will see poor Cage “die” more times than…well, than your usual video game character, shall we say. Over time, however, Rita is able to bludgeon Cage into the kind of soldier who just might have a chance out there. The odds are never less than dicey, however, and treacherous revelations lie around every corner. Will Cage be able to play this game through to the end or will he lose his last life trying?

First off, Edge of Tomorrow is an absolute blast, a non-stop thrill ride that leaves you breathless from the jump and never flags in energy, invention or wit for the entirety of its runtime time. Director Liman, working with a screenplay from genre virtuoso Christopher McQuarrie and Jez and John-Henry Butterworth, is an absolute wizard at crafting show-stopping action sequences and the entire film is a ridiculous amount of fun to watch. One of my big complaints with modern action films is that the action sequences are always staged in ways that are too needlessly kinetic, robbing the scenes of any sense of fluidity or space. This is definitely not the problem with Edge of Tomorrow, which manages to be non-stop, yet orderly enough to allow for the action sequences to have their own individual quirks and not devolve into blurs of motion.

The film also looks great, with a fully established world that feels lived in and authentic, while maintaining a kind of hyper-reality: again, very reminiscent of modern video games. Cinematographer Dion Beebe, whose resume includes things like Holy Smoke (1999), Chicago (2002) and the recent adaptation of Into the Woods (2014), turns in some suitably stunning images and the effects work is all top-notch.

While Cruise would probably be a huge draw for many viewers, I’ve never been an automatic fan of his: it really depends on the film, as far as I’m concerned. In this case, Cruise is a natural fit for the role of Major Cage and he turns in one of my favorite performances of his in years. Smug, self-serving and vaguely slimy, Cage is positioned as the least likable character you can imagine, yet Cruise is able to develop that into someone who’s a charismatic hero, by the film’s final reel. It’s a really neat hat trick and Cruise is incredibly likable here: I can see why he’s still regarded as a matinée idol. There’s a nuance and sense of irony to his performance that’s quite nice and he manages to pull some genuinely funny moments out of the film, as well (the bit where he bites it rolling under a car is absolutely hilarious, as is the bit where he gets “reset” after breaking his back).

Cruise receives excellent support from Emily Blunt, who turns in a nicely asskicking turn as Rita. She’s always believable as the cold-blooded soldier, yet her subtle emotional turns help posit her as a more three-dimensional character. Blunt and Cruise make a great team, to boot, and the two have genuine chemistry: the scenes where they slowly slog through the battle, inch by inch, are masterpieces of action yet still retain a surprising amount of intimacy.

The supporting cast is equally great, with veterans like Brendan Gleeson and Bill Paxton turning in some fantastic work, along with folks like Jonas Armstrong, Tony Way and Kick Gurry, who bring vivid life to the soldiers of J Squad. In fact, there’s no one performance that comes across as awkward, off or just flat-out awful: everyone in the cast gives consistently strong, believable performances, from the principals to the walk-ons. The film is pulpy, to be sure, but the acting still manages to be broad without sliding over into self-parody or stupidity.

I honestly wasn’t expecting Edge of Tomorrow to be anything special: if anything, I expected it would be nothing more than a glossy, well-made, big-budget studio film that was loud, frenetic and utterly devoid of meaning. Instead, the film ends up being a whip-smart, funny, thrilling and endlessly fun spectacle that slows down just enough for some character development but never enough to let up on the adrenaline. It also looked so good that I instantly regretted not seeing it in a legitimate theater: cest la vie, I suppose. While I enjoyed Liman’s Swingers (1996) back in the day and thought Go (1999) was alright, I never liked his Bourne Identity (2002), mostly because I didn’t care for the staging of the action sequences. Imagine my surprise, then, when the same director manages to helm one of my favorite action films in years. The world really is a funny place, isn’t it?

6/12/14 (Part One): Chuck Norris Can Divide By Zero

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'70s action films, Aaron Norris, action films, action star, Andy Sidaris, Anne Archer, Anthony Mannino, auteur theory, bad films, bad movies, Black Tigers, Bruce Cohn, C.I.A., Chuck Norris, cinema, commandos, covert military action, Dana Andrews, Film auteurs, film reviews, films, Good Guys Wear Black, hand-to-hand combat, James Franciscus, Jim Backus, John T. Booker, Lawrence P. Casey, Lloyd Haynes, Mark Medoff, martial arts, Movies, P.O.W.s, prisoners of war, Soon-Tek Oh, Ted Post, Texas Ranger, The Black Tigers, The Delta Force, Viet Cong, Vietnam vet, Vietnam War, Walker

At what point, exactly, did Chuck Norris go from just another ’80s tough guy to an honest-to-god cultural phenomenon? Was it around the time of Lone Wolf McQuade (1983) or did it happen closer to The Delta Force (1986)? Was Chuck just another karate-kickin’ action star when Missing in Action (1984) was released or had we already decided he was a force of nature by that time? Maybe Chuck’s ascension to the pantheon of cinematic tough guys didn’t come until he’d infiltrated the small screen as the goody-two-shoes/ass-kicking Walker, Texas Ranger (1993-2001). Whenever the time and for whatever reason, however, Chuck Norris seems to exist more as an Internet meme these days than an actual person. After all, before he made his big “return” to the silver screen with The Expendables 2 (2012), it had been seven years since Norris appeared in anything: that’s virtually an eternity in the life-span of an action star.

For whatever reason, we need Chuck Norris…or, at least, we need someone like him: an incorruptible force for good that protects the innocents, whups righteously on the wicked and maintains a stoic sense of zen through it all. Norris has always come across as the most laid back ’80s action star: Willis was more sarcastic, Ahnald was thuggier, Sly was harder to understand, Gibson was nuttier, Seagal was greasier but Chuck? He was kinda the Big Lebowski of karate: he just was, man…he just was. As my personal movie marathon continues, I chose to focus on a couple of Norris’ lesser known films (at least as far as I’m concerned): Good Guys Wear Black (1978) and The Octagon (1980). While I recall seeing the poster/video-box art for Good Guys Wear Black, I couldn’t remember anything about The Octagon at all. Would the roots of Chuck Norris’ invincibility lie here? Journey with me back through the layers of time and let’s find out.

After an incredibly odd opening credits sequence that features awful, glitchy computer graphics (possibly from a cutting-edge Atari) and one of the worst slow-jazz tunes in recent memory, we get tossed head-first into the Vietnam peace talks in Paris, circa 1973. Sleazy Undersecretary of State Conrad Morgan (James Franciscus) is negotiating a cease-fire with Major Minh Van Thieu (Soon-Tek Oh) and hanging in the balance are the lives of several American P.O.W.s, including several CIA operatives. Morgan has arranged it so that the U.S. can send in a special ops unit, called the Black Tigers, in order to rescue the CIA operatives. Coordinating with head CIA-man Murray Saunders (Lloyd Haynes), the Black Tigers hit the jungle for a nice, quiet rescue mission. Led by John T. Booker (Chuck Norris), the Black Tigers encounter no resistance until everything goes ass over tea-kettle: in short order, Booker and his men are surrounded by Viet Cong and engage in the kind of dubious fire-fight that Andy Sidaris made famous in Hard Ticket to Hawaii (1987), minus the gratuitous T & A, of course.  Despite the terrible odds, Booker and a small handful of his men are able to make it out alive. As Booker notes: “It takes careful planning for things to be this screwed up…we’ve been set-up!” Indeed!

Flash-forward five years and Booker is now a race car driver who also happens to be a grad student pursuing his PhD in Political Science: in other words, he’s your basic, well-rounded type of guy. When a comely reporter named Margaret (Anne Archer) approaches him about doing a story on the Black Tigers’ failed mission from five years earlier, Booker gives her the brush-off: he’s already gotten over the “betrayal” and moved on. Way to be the bigger man, John! The situation changes, however, when Booker’s old friend Murray Saunders gives him a call and let’s him know that someone has put a hit out on Booker “in the system.” As the surviving Black Tigers get picked off one-by-one, Booker must figure out who would want them all dead and why. The answers, of course, go all the way back to that failed mission and involve a government cover-up, a vengeful Viet Cong officer and lots of feet to the face. The odds may be stacked against him but no one puts Booker into a corner…after all, this is Chuck Norris we’re talking about here.

Good Guys Wear Black is many, many things but a quality film is not, unfortunately, one of those things. While the film’s rampant stupidity can be forgiven (the world is full of vapid, action-packed films that are tons of fun despite being virtually brain-dead), it’s exceptionally shoddy action sequences can not. The opening gunfight between the Black Tigers and the Viet Cong has no sense of drama whatsoever, resembling nothing so much as a backyard war epic helmed by pre-teens: it couldn’t have been less realistic if the actors had run around pointing their fingers at each other and yelling “Bang!” Truth be told, none of the action sequences and fights are really worth a hill of beans, more often than not amounting to Chuck Norris kicking someone repeatedly until they fall down: it’s kind of like that old button-masher Karateka in that regard.

So…the film is completely inane and features lame action sequences: what else is there? Unfortunately, not a whole lot: as expected in films like this, the acting is pretty over-the-top and silly, although Norris nicely underplays his role (does he have any other acting style?). The problem with Norris is that his only reaction to things, whether it be his girlfriend getting blown up in an airplane or his best friends getting shot, is to kind of shrug his shoulders and go about his business. At no point in time does Booker ever seem overly worried about anything, which meant I spent a good portion of the film likewise disengaged. Look, it’s as simple as this: if the main characters can’t be bothered to care about this mess, why should I?

And what a mess it is, too. The screenplay, by Mark Medoff and Bruce Cohn, is both stupid and overly complex, which is a most lethal combination. Medoff would actually go on to write the screenplay for Children of a Lesser God (1986), so perhaps we can chalk this up to growing pains. Cohn, on the other hand, would go on to write one other screenplay, for a ’90s-era TV movie: this pretty much speaks for itself. There are so many double-crosses and switch-arounds that I completely lost track of who was doing what by the midpoint: good thing, then, that I was already pretty checked out, by that point. Director Ted Post is actually responsible for some of my favorite films of all time, including Hang ‘Em High (1968), The Baby (1973) and Magnum Force (1973): I’m not sure what happened here but I’m willing to cut Ted a little slack, based on his impressive resume. The screenwriters, on the other, definitely don’t have those laurels to rest on.

In the end, Good Guys Wear Black ends up being a thoroughly average (although tilting towards the terrible), if completely non-nonsensical film. Chuck Norris is consistently amiable but the film, itself, is alternately goofy, corny, stupid and boring. While Chuck Norris’ might reign as some sort of action demi-god nowadays, the proof definitely wasn’t in the pudding back in ’78. As far as our current experiment goes, the search for the genesis of Chuck Norris’ badassitude continues. Next stop: The Octagon.

 

1/20/14: Oscar Bait, Part 1

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Academy Awards, Ahmed Hassan, Best Feature Documentary nominee, Blackwater, cinema, covert military action, Dirty Wars, documentaries, documentary, Egyptian revolution, Film, Film festival, Hosni Mubarak, Jehane Noujaim, Jeremy Scahill, JSOC, Khalid Abdalla, Magdy Ashour, Middle East, military, Movies, Muslim Brotherhood, Netflix, Oscar nominee, plausible deniability, political struggle, regimes, Rick Rowley, scandals, Somalia, Tahrir Square, The Kite Runner, The Square

Since another four films were viewed on Monday, I figure that we might as well split the day into two, especially since two of the films are current Best Feature Documentary nominees. I must admit that I’ve seen none of the Academy Award nominees, thus far, so the two documentaries below will represent my first foray into this year’s awards season. Better late than never, I suppose!

As far as I’m concerned, one of the best compliments that can be paid a documentary is that the viewer learns something organically rather than being force-fed information or a viewpoint. If I can be entertained and swept up in a story while still learning something or having my current viewpoint challenged…well, let’s just say that makes me a pretty happy guy. As such, I was damn happy about The Square.

Taking place between January 2011 and July 2013, The Square documents the Egyptian civil unrest that led to the ouster of two separate rulers and the upending of decades of oppression. By choosing to focus on a small handful of protesters, all of whom end up interacting with each other, the filmmakers take a very big event and manage to distill it down into a much more personal struggle. Ahmed Hassan, the first revolutionary we’re introduced to in the film, becomes a de facto hero, of sorts, serving as rallying cry for the change so desperately needed in Egypt. His character even goes through an arc from optimistic and brimming with passion to hesitant and reserved to angry and vengeful and back to hopeful and optimistic again. Magdy Ashour, a devout member of the Muslim Brotherhood, also goes through a pretty dramatic arc throughout the film, wavering from unabashed devotion to the Brotherhood to later condemning it before swaying back to support it again. Magdy’s story is much more tragic than Ahmed’s, in many ways, since Magdy is torn by not only the politics of the area but the religious strife, as well. We also spend quite a bit of time with Khalid Abdalla, the handsome star of The Kite Runner, who returns to his homeland of Egypt to throw himself headfirst into the protests.

And headfirst is, indeed, a pretty accurate way to describe the whole film. Once it’s off and running, The Square rarely pauses for breath or reflection: it has several hundred years worth of conflict to document in just over 90 minutes, after all. The approach is thrilling and the access seems (to me, at least) pretty unprecedented. There were several times during the film where I became so caught up in the first-person view of the protests that I almost felt like I was there, particularly during the terrible moments where the government lashes out at the gathered protesters.

The Square runs viewers through a well-organized, clear timeline of the tumultuous 2+ years detailed here. We begin with the ouster of Mubarak, see the results of the army assuming control of the country, the installation of the Muslim Brotherhood into power and their subsequent ouster due to another round of heated protests. There are a lot of factors to consider as far as the protests and fighting go but I felt that The Square laid them all out pretty clearly. The clear emphasis is on the protesters, as it should be, but we also spend some time with the army and the Muslim Brotherhood, particularly as it relates to Magdy. One of the most chilling moments in the entire film is the one where an army officer flashes a wicked grin at the filmmakers and explains that they have absolutely no idea of who actually controls the country. It’s a small, quiet moment in a film that’s often bustling with activity and emotion but it put icicles through my spine.

As a documentary, The Square is very well-crafted. I was initially a bit hesitant, since I felt that the opening seemed a little rehearsed and insincere. In short order, however, I was hooked and just as caught up in the events as any fictional narrative film. Like many Westerners, I was aware of the broad strokes of the situation (Mubarak gone, army in control, Morsi in control, Morsi gone) but had absolutely no clue as to the actual repercussions of those living there. I was most struck by how universal the actual protest was: once we’re on the ground in Tahrir Square, it’s not hard to squint our eyes and see echoes of the Occupy Movement that (briefly) swept North America.

There are two moments in the film that really stuck with, moments that I’ll probably think a lot about in the future. After the military announces that Morsi has been replaced and that there will be a new round of elections, Ahmed gleefully pledges to keep protesting and encouraging others to do the same until the people get the government that THEY want, not the one forced on them. “Our lives are now to be lived in the streets,” he says, and I really believe him. I know, for a fact, that Ahmed will continue to protest and fight for what he believes in and, strangely enough, that gives me just the slightest bit of hope regarding the world. He won’t back down: why should we?

There’s another moment, however, that I found just as powerful. Towards the end, Khalid mentions that no one will really know if the revolution has succeeded for decades; they must wait and see if their work has all been for naught. The people will continue to question and fight, however: “They’re not looking for a leader,” he says, “they’re looking for a conscience.” If that’s not a universal sentiment, I don’t know what is.

I will begin by saying that Dirty Wars is definitely not for everyone. There are many who might compare this film to like-minded conspiracy docs (many of which seem to be available on Netflix) or propaganda pieces. It definitely expresses a particular viewpoint, a viewpoint that many Americans will, no doubt, take umbrage with. Luckily, I’m not here to discuss politics, conspiracy theories or political motivations: anyone who wants to know my political views is welcome to buy me a cup of coffee sometime and discuss them. My main concerns with Dirty Wars as a documentary are: Is it well-made? Is it informative? Does it attempt balance or is there a clear bias? And, perhaps most importantly, is it entertaining?

My first impression of the film is that the narrator, journalist Jeremy Scahill, comes across as more than a little pretentious. This is an impression that will later be reinforced by the film itself: there’s quite a bit of pretension to go around. There’s definitely a sense that Scahill and director Rick Rowley know that they’re telling an important story: hell, we know that, too. Similar to retro genre films that slavishly ape the look of older films without imitating the content or feel, however, Dirty Wars knows that it’s important and doesn’t want the audience to ever forget the fact. From Scahill’s hushed narration (which gets old fast) to the occasionally ominous cinematography and score, Dirty Wars is a film that projects such a serious air that it’s occasionally difficult to take it completely serious. Which is a shame, since there’s nothing light about the subject whatsoever.

Scahill, the journalist who originally broke the Blackwater scandal in Iraq, focuses his attention on the covert military actions run by the U.S. in not only Afghanistan and the Middle East but around the world. He uncovers plenty of damning evidence and stumbles across the super-secretive Joint Special Operations Command (JSOC) some time before it would later become famous for the successful military strike that killed Osama bin Laden. There are a number of interesting interviews, although the majority of the U.S. military figures involved tow the same professional line that one could find by watching a Good Morning America interview with the same.

Ultimately, my ambivalence towards Dirty Wars has nothing to do with the subject: nothing I saw changed my original viewpoint in any way, although there were a few moments that seemed to confirm things I’d often suspected. There were even a couple of moments that I found particularly powerful, such as the assertion by one official, regarding the JSOC, that “we’ve created one helluva hammer: now this hammer will spend a lifetime looking for a nail.” That certainly gives you something to think about. I was also enthralled by Scahill’s trip to Somalia, where he interviewed several local warlords. One, a particularly nasty character who also happened to be a U.S. ally, made the chilling assertion that “America are great war masters…they are great teachers.” Terrifying, especially when delivered with a lazy smile.

More than anything, I just found Scahill to be a bit too self-important and pretentious. There seemed to be a constant attempt to strive for greater and greater significance: I would rather find the significance than be told it’s there. By the hundredth or so time that Scahill whispered the equivalent of “I was in over my head and the walls were closing in,” I wanted to toss him a fedora and a bottle of scotch and tell him to just get on with it.