6/28/14 (Part Two): Always Bet on Kurt

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A Beginner's Guide to Endings, action-comedies, art forgeries, art thefts, caper films, Chris Diamantopoulos, cinema, Crunch Calhoun, Evel Knievel, film reviews, films, heist films, Jason Jones, Jay Baruchel, Jonathan Sobol, Katheryn Winnick, Kenneth Welsh, Kurt Russell, Matt Dillon, Movies, Terrence Stamp, The Art of the Steal, vagina scupltures, voice-over narration, writer-director

From Snake Plissken to R.J. MacReady to Captain Ron, Stuntman Mike and Jack Burton, Kurt Russell has been responsible for some of the most iconic film characters over the past 30+ years. He’s an old-fashioned matinée action hero, a take-charge joker who’s goofy grin, ruggedly handsome looks and way with a quip have been bowling audiences over for decades. As someone who worshiped films like Escape From New York (1981) and The Thing (1982) while growing up, I learned pretty early on that Russell was capable of elevating anything, be it low-budget exploitation film or silly Disney movie. Over time, Russell became one of my favorite actors: I’ve seen plenty of films that I never would have were it not for Russell (the odious Tango and Cash (1989) immediately springs to mind, as does the old Disney film The Computer Wore Tennis Shoes (1969)) and most of his “classics” also rank among my favorite films. Simply put: Russell can do no wrong, in my book, which makes anything he’s in “must-see.” This leads us directly to this day’s offering, Jonathan Sobol’s The Art of the Steal (2013). How’s ol’ Kurt hold up? Do you really have to ask?

We begin with Crunch Calhoun (Kurt Russell) beginning a seven-year sentence in a suitably awful Warsaw prison before jumping back a little to see the botched heist that put him there. It seems that Crunch was involved in a “can’t miss” art theft that ends up missing spectacularly after he’s sold up the river by his own half-brother, the irredeemably slimy Nicky (Matt Dillon). Fast-forward 5.5 years (he was obviously a well-behaved prisoner) and Crunch is once again a free man, making his living as a stunt motorcycle rider who throws events for extra cash. This doesn’t sit well with his best-friend/assistant, Francie (Jay Baruchel), who knows that Crunch is capable of much more. Crunch’s constant injuries don’t bother his greedy girlfriend, Lola (Katheryn Winnick). however, who just wants Crunch to keep her in the lifestyle to which she wholeheartedly believes she’s owed.

As luck would have it, Crunch ends up back in Nicky’s orbit after he’s roughed up by another of Nicky’s double-crossed partners, Sunny (Dax Ravina), a dumbass who threatens poor Crunch with an antique pirate’s pistol. When Crunch goes to yell at Nicky, he discovers that Nicky is planning another big heist, a complicated theft that also involves Crunch’s old pals Paddy (Kenneth Welsh) and Guy (Chris Diamantopoulos). Since Lola keeps demanding more and more money from Crunch, he reluctantly agrees to join the heist, Francie in tow. While this is going on, one of the gang’s former compatriots, Sam Winter (Terrence Stamp), has been forced into the informant game by oily Interpol agent Bick (Jason Jones). Bick wants Sam’s help in taking down Nicky and his gang, while all that Sam wants is the chance to finally retire and get out of the game once and for all. All of these friends, enemies and turncoats end up colliding in an uproarious caper that involves the second book ever printed on the Guttenberg press, a giant vagina sculpture, a fake priest and Francie dressed up like an Amish man. Through it all, however, one question remains: has Nicky mended his treacherous ways or is there a more devious plot going on? Old habits may die hard but you can’t keep a good Crunch down.

The Art of the Steal, for lack of a better word, is a minor gem, an absolutely hilarious, break-neck-paced, character-driven action film that’s sent into the stratosphere by the deadly combination of a fantastic script and a wonderful ensemble cast. There are so many genuinely funny set-pieces and great bits of dialogue that the film is an absolute joy to watch. When a film is glutted with this much good stuff, it’s hard to pick out my favorites but there’s plenty that stands out: the antagonistic relationship between Bick and Sam…Francie trying to cross the border dressed like he’s Amish (after explaining that he’s involved in a stage version of Witness, Franchie is asked if he has anything to declare: “The play is terrible,” he quips back)…the giant vagina sculpture that factors heavily into the caper…Diamantopoulos’ ridiculously fussy art-forger Guy, who’s more interested in his own abilities than fooling people with his forgeries…the list goes on and on. Writer-director Sobol seems equally gifted whether penning dialogue or scenarios, something that not all comedic writers excel at: the script is actually good enough that it would have been a pretty decent film without the cast. But, oh boy…that cast…

Sobol’s film is gifted with one of the most dynamic, well-matched ensemble casts that I’ve seen in some time. Russell is predicatably awesome as Crunch, a sort of low-rent, self-defeated Evel Knievel but the rest of the cast are no slouches: Dillon brings just the right amount of “nice-guy” to his sleazeball character, while Welsh, Diamantopoulos and Baruchel are perfectly cast as the remainder of the gang (Baruchel, in particular, is great). Stamp brings just the right amount of gravitas to his performance as Sam, perhaps giving us a peek into the “retired” life of some of his more famous gangster characters, and plays well against the simpering stupidity that is Jones’ Interpol agent. There’s a great bit where Sam tells Bick that he wouldn’t recognize a vagina if it were 4 feet tall and staring him in the face: later, Bick comes face-to-face with the vagina sculpture and his confounded “What’s that?” has to be one of the best moments in the film.

From a craft standpoint, Sobol uses a bit of a “kitchen-sink approach,” ala Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels (1998): lots of on-screen text descriptors, multiple voice overs and perspectives, dates/times defined for everything. While it may all seem a bit much, it actually works spectacularly well with the complicated storyline. The heists, particularly the final one, are all immaculately plotted, which is a real sink-or-swim moments for caper films. Not only are they kinetic, visually interesting and well-plotted but the heists actually make sense: I’m not saying that any of this would be possible but I’ll be damned if Sobol doesn’t make it all seem rather likely.

Sobol was also responsible for the above-average A Beginner’s Guide to Endings (2010), so this is clearly one writer-director to keep a close eye on. At the end of the day, The Art of the Steal isn’t just a great Kurt Russell film: it’s a great film, period. With a witty, thorny script, plenty of great set-pieces, a superb ensemble cast and loads of laughs, The Art of the Steal is a modern classic. Looks like Crunch Calhoun gets to join that “Kurt Russell Character Hall of Fame”: I’m betting that he gets along just fine with Snake, A.J. and the rest of the guys.

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1/15/14: Hollywood Deja Vu

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Apocalypse, celebrities, cinema, comedies, Craig Robinson, Danny McBride, dark comedies, end of the world, Film, Hollywood, James Franco, Jay Baruchel, Jonah Hill, meta-films, Michael Cera, Movies, Seth Rogen, This is the End

Any film that delves into the metaphysics of storytelling/genre automatically sets itself up with a big handicap. When done properly, a film like that can blow up a genre from the inside-out, revealing nuances and tropes that only a hardcore fan would ever appreciate. Wes Craven did this, with some success, in his Scream franchise (full disclosure: I’ve never been a big fan) and Joss Whedon did it to spectacular effect in Cabin in the Woods. The Airplane films were great examples of self-referential comedies that also succeeded in commenting on their source materials. Less successfully, we have things like the Scary Movie franchise and any of the endless low-brow offerings that slavishly parody current films (Meet the Spartans, Epic Movie, et al). These are films that understand only the basest level of what they seek to mock: if the little girl in The Exorcist barfed up a gallon in the original, make her barf up an airplane hangar in the parody. You know…the easy way out.

If making a meta-film about a particular genre or subject is difficult, how much more difficult must it be to make a meta-film about actual, real people? For my money, I can think of very few films that have even attempted this, much less pulled it off. Spike Jonze gave us the head-scratcher that was Being John Malkovich and (somehow) wormed his way into the cultural zeitgeist. More recently, we had A Glimpse Inside the Mind of Charles Swan III which, although not explicitly about lead Charlie Sheen, was pretty obviously about Charlie Sheen.

The big problem, in some ways, is that the average audience member has absolutely no connection with people like John Malkovich and Charlie Sheen: we only have their films, live appearances and tabloid gossip to give us any sort of indication as to their actual personalities. Since there’s an inherent element of classism to most of our preconceived notions on celebrities, it’s always nice when these fine men and women reinforce our opinions. We’d like to think that Sheen is as much of a loose cannon in real life as he was in his many cinematic appearances: all sources seem to point to “yes.” We’d like to believe that Tom Hanks is as nice in real life as his endless film portrayals of such seem to indicate: not much to indicate the contrary, at least thus far.

How best, then, to head off any criticism of your personality/values/actions? Why, beat the naysayers to the punch, that’s how! And that, ladies and gentlemen, is exactly what writer/actor and now director Seth Rogen has done with This is the End. By presenting himself and his cadre of famous comedian friends (James Franco, Jonah Hill, Craig Robinson, Jay Baruchel, Danny McBride, Michael Cera) as being, essentially, as obnoxious as many people probably assume they are, he’s taken the words right out of our mouths and, in the process, crafted one of the funniest, smartest meta-films in quite some time.

The plot, such as it is, is pretty simple: Jay Baruchel has come to Los Angeles to visit his (presumed) best friend, Seth Rogen. Jay’s not much for the hustle and bustle of Hollywood, whereas Seth appears to have made himself pretty happy with mover-and-shaker party monsters like James Franco and Michael Cera. As Jay and Seth bicker over the changing nature of their friendship, something sort of significant happens: the Rapture. Once all of the “good” people are gone, Jay, Seth and their egotistical friends are left with, literally, Hell on earth. They must do all they can to avoid flaming bottomless pits, hell-hounds and the Devil himself, all while trying to put back together the pieces of their shattered lives. And keep McBride from eating all the goddamn food, of course.

Let’s just get the bad stuff out of the way first, shall we? For my money, there was a bit more bathroom humor in this than I normally care for: chalk this up to personal preference but there it is. There was also a tendency for the effects to vacillate between really effective and kinda dodgy, with the climax of the film sporting the majority of the dodgy moments. I also wish they had left the possession subplot on the cutting-room floor. I realize why they did it (set up a parallel between the affected character’s pre-/post-possession behaviour) but it dragged a bit and ended up yielding more gross and/or unnecessary moments than it did treasures.

And that, friends and neighbors, is just about as negative as I can really go with This is the End. Everything else in the film works, either spectacularly well or at least well enough to get you to the next audacious moment. What to single out…what to single out…well, let’s start with the razor-sharp dialogue. Forget all of the Hollyweird parody (which is, admittedly, very funny): This is the End is one great line after another. From the subtle (“Your references are out of control”: a reverent Jonah Hill to Jay; Seth’s classic explanation of gluten as a generic term for anything bad or unhealthy) to the ridiculously underplayed (“So, last night, something not chill happened…”: one of the characters after being raped by a demon) to the absolutely outrageous (“I call him Channing Tate-YUM!”), This is the End is one laugh-out-loud line after another. Truth be told, I was often laughing so hard from one scene to the next that I would miss what was (I’m sure) even more funny lines: this is definitely something that could benefit from repeat viewings.

If This is the End were just great dialogue, however, we’d still only have an interesting experiment. Rogen, however, has made damn sure that he and his famous friends have enough stuff going on to last through ten apocalypses. We get Michael Cera as the most amazing, sleazy, creepy character ever created (please, please, please let this be his true self! Please!); Craig Robinson singing “Take Off Your Panties” to Rihanna in the middle of a crowded party, complete with merciless come-back; Craig and Jay fighting a giant monster dog (shades of Ghostbusters); a kitchen-sink reenactment of Pineapple Express 2 (almost worth the price of admission on its own); Danny McBride making one of the top-five entrances in the history of cinema (no hyperbole: it really was that good of an entrance); Jonah sleeping “Scarface-style” with Jay and Seth; James Franco and McBride having an imaginary “cum fight” (really must be seen to be believed); an armed and dangerous Emma Watson and one of the best uses of “I Will Always Love You” ever committed to film. Ever.

Is This is the End a perfect film? Far from it. Unlike something like Tucker & Dale vs Evil, for example, This is the End spends a pretty fair amount of its time spinning wheels (they’re funny wheels, don’t get me wrong, but they do tend to go round and round and round and…). It’s a longish film (almost two hours) which is always a dangerous tack for a comedy, especially one with such a high energy level. Ultimately, though, these are pretty minor quibbles.

I went in to this expecting some mindless, good-natured celebrity-bashing (albeit bashing administered by those being bashed, similar to Ricky Gervais’ Golden Globes victims handing him lists of bullet-points before the ceremony) and some goofy end-of-the-world humor but was pleasantly surprised to find much more. At its heart, This is the End is really about Jay and Seth’s (on-air, at least) friendship and the ways in which we all much continue to grow as people. That a message this sweet and positive can be crammed in between multiple dick and Exorcist jokes is, if you think about it, something of a modern miracle. Here’s to hoping it doesn’t take long for Seth and the guys to pull their cinematic alter-egos out of mothballs and give this whole thing another shot.

I, for one, would love to see these goons pull off a good ol’ fashioned bank heist: somebody get Rogen working on that, stat!