12/26/14 (Part One): C’mon, Baby…Let Those Colors Burst

Tags

Abbott and Costello, assassination attempts, Brandon Trost, celebrity gossip, cinema, co-directors, co-writers, comedies, controversy, cyber-terrorism, Diana Bang, dictators, Eminem, Evan Goldberg, film reviews, films, hacking, James Franco, Katy Perry, Kim Jong-un, Lizzy Caplan, Movies, North Korea, Pineapple Express, Randall Park, Reese Alexander, scandals, Seth Rogen, Sony Corporation, tabloids, tanks, The Interview, TV host, writer-director

How’s this for a crazy idea for a movie: a bunch of filmmaking buddies who are primarily known for silly and/or stoner-related comedies make a big-budget, goofy comedy about a rather ludicrous plot to assassinate North Korean dictator Kim Jong-un, which actually leads to a real international incident involving cyber terrorism against a major corporation, threats of terrorist violence against movie theaters and calls for all-out declarations of war. The whole thing is, admittedly, far-fetched but we’ve been asked to take larger leaps of faith in the world of cinema, right? Sounds like the kind of thing that would be perfect for someone like, say, Seth Rogen or James Franco to tackle, doesn’t it?

Unless you spent the last few months in a complete and total media blackout, it would be pretty impossible not to know that this is, of course, exactly what ended up taking place, despite how outlandish and bizarre the whole thing seems. The film in question, of course, is Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg’s The Interview (2014). The very notion of the film’s existence would end up vexing North Korea so much, apparently, that they hacked into Sony Corporation’s computer systems, disseminated oodles of private, corporate information online and even went so far as to threaten physical violence against any theaters that deigned to screen the film. After theater chains folded to the threats, Sony pulled the film from release, only to reverse position and allow a few theaters to screen it, as originally planned, on Christmas Day, along with releasing the film online via streaming agencies.  Almost instantly, The Interview would enter the history books, if only because the situation surrounding the film was unheard of in the past: we’ve truly entered a “brave new world,” as it were, and The Interview appears to be leading the charge.

For all of the controversy surrounding its release, however, controversy which all but assures the film a certain “must-see” factor, there are still some pretty basic questions to ask, not the least of which is, “Is The Interview actually any good?” While any film would be hard-pressed to live up to this kind of hype (after all, how many films have “almost” started World War 2.5?), I actually found The Interview to be quite good: in fact, I actually liked it more than any of the group’s previous work, including Pineapple Express (2008) and This is the End (2013). When the film is good, it’s actually pretty hilarious and strangely heartfelt, in equal doses: when it’s just okay, it’s still entertaining, albeit in a rather dumb, goofy way.

Dave Skylark (James Franco), the vapid host of one of those anonymous celebrity gossip shows that seem to choke the airwaves, ends up scoring the ultimate interview when an off-the-cuff request to North Korean President Kim Jong-un (Randall Park) is answered in the affirmative:  turns out that the dictator is a huge fan of Skylark’s show and jumps at the chance for his hero to fly out and interview him for the whole world to see. After Skylark’s put-upon producer/best friend Aaron Rapaport (Seth Rogen) gets everything set-up, the duo are approached by CIA agents Lacey (Lizzy Caplan) and Botwin (Reese Alexander): turns out that the U.S. government sees Skylark’s exclusive interview as the perfect cover for an assassination attempt against Jong-un and they want the dopey egotist to do his “civic duty” and kill the dictator.

As can be expected, much hilarity ensues as Skylark and Rapaport are put through secretive CIA training before being dispatched to North Korea. Once there, however, Skylark and Kim Jong-un strike up an unexpectedly potent bromance (they really bond over their shared affinity for Katy Perry’s “Firework”) which threatens to derail the assassination attempt. Will poor Aaron be able to get everything back on track or has his buddy thrown a King Kong-sized monkey-wrench into the works? Will Dave realize the error of his ways in time to save the mission? And how, exactly, did they teach that tiger to use night-vision goggles?

Full disclosure: I’ve never been the biggest fan of Rogen and Franco’s brand of comedy. I really enjoyed This is the End, possibly because their take on a horror scenario was genuinely interesting, but I have a real “take-it-or-leave-it” attitude to most of their films. That being said, I found myself enjoying The Interview much more than I thought I would: at times, I actually kind of loved the film, to be honest, albeit not unconditionally.

For one thing, the film is genuinely funny: from the dialogue to certain rather elaborate set-pieces, The Interview made me laugh out loud more often than I think I ever had at a Rogen/Franco film, including This is the End. The scene involving Rogen and the tiger is a minor classic, as is pretty much any moment where Franco is allowed to run roughshod over the material: when he’s “all-in” here, he’s pretty much unstoppable, which goes a long way towards selling the humor. I was actually quite taken with Rogen and Franco’s chemistry in the film, finding them to be a nearly perfect comic duo, ala Abbott and Costello or Hope and Crosby. We’re asked to believe that Aaron would keep putting up with Dave’s bullshit due to their lifelong friendship and it actually works: Rogen and Franco sell the friendship so perfectly (and sweetly, might I add) that it really adds heft to the rest of the film.

Far from existing in a vacuum, however, the leads are given more than capable assistance by a pretty stellar supporting cast: Caplan is great as the CIA agent who’s in constant awe of the duo’s ability to screw things up and Randall Park is absolutely fantastic as Kim Jong-un. Park, in particular, is able to find a rare amount of genuine warmth and empathy in a character that could have just been a cardboard-cutout villain: for a time, Park’s Jong-un is a genuinely likable character and it’s not hard to see how the gullible Skylark could get taken in. Park handles the transition from “reasonable” to “batshit-crazy” with aplomb, handily turning the President into the kind of Bond villain that The Interview’s over-the-top finale demands.

One thing that actually surprised me about The Interview was how exceptionally well-made it is: from the very first shot (a gorgeous scene involving a young North Korean girl singing an anti-American song before a huge audience) to the truly epic finale (the single best use of “Firework” that anyone could imagine, ever), there’s nothing about the film that feels slap-dash or “small.” The cinematography, by frequent collaborator Brandon Trost, is always colorful and expertly staged and the film has one of the best, most effective soundtracks I’ve heard in some time. In every way, The Interview has been fashioned as a “big” film, which makes its debut on VOD even more disheartening: subject-matter and controversy notwithstanding, The Interview definitely deserved to be seen on a big screen.

Another thing that surprised me about The Interview was how intelligent the film actually is: despite a preponderance of low-brow humor (dick jokes abound), The Interview actually makes lots of savvy points, not all of which are aimed directly at North Korea. In fact, U.S. foreign policy and the world’s addiction to celebrity are just as often skewered and some of the observations are spot-on (particularly smart is the bit where Diana Bang’s Sook discusses how the U.S. doesn’t have the best track-record when it comes to assassinating foreign leaders). It would have been the easiest thing in the world for co-writer-directors Rogen and Goldberg to take endless potshots at North Korea and its leader but they manage to spread the joy around, as it were, which gives the proceedings a bit more of an open-mind than they might otherwise have had.

Ultimately, I ending up being quite impressed with The Interview: topical, rather fearless and genuinely funny, the film is also surprisingly dark and violent (the scene where one character gets his fingers bitten off is played for laughs, despite the rather nightmarish details and there’s an on-screen suicide that actually made me jump), finding a nice balance between the disparate elements. When The Interview worked, I found it quite delightful, certainly more-so than any Franco/Rogen vehicle before it. Suffice to say, I’m actually looking forward to the pair’s next outing, although I doubt that it’ll have the “world-changing” potential of this one.

Will The Interview change the world? Probably not, although that would be the ultimate case of art influencing life, wouldn’t it? Is The Interview a sturdy, funny and appropriately cutting action-comedy full of goofy humor and some truly outrageous setpieces? You better believe it. In the end, isn’t that the only thing that we can (realistically) hope for?

10/31/14 (Part One): Better Late Than Never

Tags

31 Days of Halloween, Asia Argento, auteur theory, Dawn of the Dead, Day of the Dead, Dead Reckoning, Dennis Hopper, Diary of the Dead, dystopian future, Eugene Clark, Fiddlers' Green, Film auteurs, George Romero, horror films, horror franchises, intelligent zombies, John Leguizamo, KNB Effects, Land of the Dead, Maxwell McCabe-Lokos, mercs, Night of the Living Dead, paramilitary groups, rich vs poor, Robert Joy, SImon Baker, social commentary, tanks, The Walking Dead, Tom Savini, writer-director, zombie films

As the wait continued for the follow-up to “Forefather of the Dead” George Romero’s Day of the Dead (1985), longtime fans of his brand of socially-conscious zombie carnage probably weren’t remiss in feeling that this particular ship had already set sail into the sunset. After all, Day of the Dead’s production was notoriously compromised due to financial constraints (Romero’s original plan to continue expanding the world that he created with Dawn of the Dead (1978) was, effectively, shot in the head and downsized to a “handful of survivors in a bunker” storyline after it all proved prohibitively expensive) and Romero appeared to have little success in attracting investors for another entry. For all intents and purposes, it looked like Romero’s zombies had finally stopped kicking, even if his filmmaking career continued to chug along with non-zombie efforts like Monkey Shines (1988), The Dark Half (1993) and Bruiser (2000).

But, to paraphrase another master of the macabre, “over time, even death may die” and Romero’s “Dead” fans finally got their long-delayed wish when Land of the Dead (2005), the official follow-up to Day of the Dead, finally roared into multiplexes. For the first time in 20 years, Romero’s shambling gut-munchers were once again duking it out for box-office dinero, hoping to infect a new generation of horror audiences. Anytime someone waits twenty years for something, however, there’s an inherent danger of irrelevance: after all, there have been twenty years of zombie films between Day and Land. Would Romero still have the goods or would this be another sad example of a master craftsman set adrift, helpless against the ever-changing zeitgeist of our modern era? The answer, as it turns out, would be a hearty “yes,” followed by a quieter, slightly more hesitant “perhaps.”

Radio broadcasts and images of zombie mayhem over the opening credits give us a shorthand version of the events leading up to the “present day,” which appears to reside in a decidedly dystopic near-future: zombies have, effectively, taken over the world, although small bands of survivors still carve out rough existences in the burned-out cities that litter the landscape of what used to be America. The living dead have continued to “evolve,” in a manner of speaking, which we witness first-hand as we see zombies attempting to play instruments, pump gas and carry on rudimentary conversations with each other. One zombie in particular, a large gas station attendant (Eugene Clark), seems to have more intelligence than the average gut-muncher and appears to serve as defacto “leader” to the zombies, organizing them into a more cohesive “army.”

Our plucky protagonist, Riley (Simon Baker), is the leader of a paramilitary group that serves as the last line defense for one of the anonymous, ruined metropoli that jut up from the landscape like scorched bones. Along with the obnoxious, conniving Cholo (John Leguizamo), best friend Charlie (Robert Joy), Mouse (Maxwell McCabe-Lokos) and the rest of the hardened former soldiers, Riley answers to the ultra-slimy Kaufman (Dennis Hopper), lord of the self-sustaining, high-rise paradise known as Fiddler’s Green. Fiddler’s Green, home to the city’s most wealthy and powerful, towers above the slums of the city like an unattainable Eden for the unwashed masses. While the poor and downtrodden carve out existences in a futuristic ghetto that makes Blade Runner (1982) look like Pasadena, the rich and powerful live it up in a combination skyscraper/shopping mall/luxury apartment complex that couldn’t be a more obvious metaphor if it wore a sign saying “Future zombie snacks.” The only thing standing between the 1% and the “walkers” are Riley, his troops and one badass tank known as Dead Reckoning.

While Riley hopes for a modest little piece of land somewhere relatively zombie-free, Cholo has much bigger ambitions: he wants to move into the Green and take his place with the hoity toity elements of society. After he’s doublecrossed by the odious Kaufman, however, Cholo steals Dead Reckoning and aims it right at Paradise: if Kaufman doesn’t pay up what he owes, Cholo will happily mulch the rich and famous with their own firepower…irony, thy name art Romero. Realizing that the only one who can stop Cholo is the guy who trained him, Kaufman enlists Riley and Charlie to return the tank to homebase and deliver the “traitor,” dead or alive. With the assistance of Slack (Asia Argento), a wannabe soldier who Riley rescues from one of the city’s zombie vs human cage matches, the trio are closer than ever to realizing their dream of getting the hell out of the city. All that stands between them is a former comrade, an indestructible weapon of war and a zombie army led by an undead “messiah” named Big Daddy. The stakes? Nothing less than the future of the entire human species.

With a budget almost five times that of Day of the Dead (albeit still “modest” by modern tent-pole standards) and a much bigger scope, it’s tempting to view Land of the Dead as the “proper” follow-up to the landmark Dawn of the Dead. While one could certainly make an argument for this (at the very least, Romero’s desire to fully realize his short-changed vision must have been the genesis for the project), it’s also pretty evident that Land of the Dead presents a natural progression from Day of the Dead, especially when one considers the continued “evolution” of the zombies. Bub may have learned to use a Walkman but the zombies in Land of the Dead can communicate with each other, use basic tools and weapons, strategize (on a basic level) and seem to experience basic human emotions, such as anger, sorrow and pride.

This, of course, has always been one of my main issues with Day of the Dead: the “humanization” of the zombies may dovetail nicely with Romero’s overarching themes of societal collapse and rebirth but it also has the (presumably unintended) effect of removing much of the inherent horror from the living dead: once the zombies start acting more and more like “us,” as it were, they cease to be monsters and begin the journey towards sympathetic characters. While this is still handled rather subtly in Land of the Dead (to a point), the scales tip completely by the time of Diary of the Dead (2007) and it’s pretty obvious that the zombies are now the “victims” while the humans are the “monsters.” While Land of the Dead’s finale is certainly thought-provoking, Riley’s ruminations on the possibility of a shared “promised land” for both human and zombie-kind put us on a much different philosophical plane than the apocalyptic climaxes to either Dawn or Day of the Dead.

None of this, by the way, is to argue for “dumber” zombie films: I’ve always felt that the social politics of Night of the Living Dead (1968) and Dawn of the Dead were one of the main reasons why those films will always be such complete and undeniable classics. There’s a delicate balance to be maintained, however, a balance that Romero appears to grow increasingly uninterested in as the franchise continues: perhaps the desire to make his films more than just “zombie films” fuels this although, to be honest, this is probably just the natural progression of his earlier films, albeit taken a bit far, at least for my personal tastes.

My biggest issue with Land of the Dead, ultimately, is that it ends up being a rather mediocre horror film, despite being an above-average action film. Romero has sacrificed most of the inherent chills and shocks of his first three zombie films in favor of rather repetitious “run and gun” scenes involving Riley’s mercs and the undead: we get treated to what seems an inordinate amount of rather cheap-looking action beats rather than horror setpieces like the inquisitive Hari Krishna or the semi-trailer fiasco from Dawn of the Dead. Land of the Dead is also a much different-looking film than either Dawn or Day: the zombie effects are all handled by KNB, rather than Tom Savini, which actually makes Land of the Dead a bit of a dry-run for the smash-hit TV show The Walking Dead. This is a minor quibble, obviously, since KNB’s designs are nothing to sneeze at, although discerning viewers will still notice the difference (KNB’s zombies are much more “technical” but Savini’s zombies always felt more “real” to me, strangely enough).

The one aspect where Land of the Dead vaults head and shoulders above its immediate predecessor, however, is the caliber of the acting. Quite frankly, Day of the Dead is still one of the most unpleasantly “shouty” films I’ve ever watched: every actor in that thing is pitching to the rafters and, at times, it feels more like a wrestling match than an actual film. Land of the Dead, by contrast, features some absolutely fine performances by the likes of Baker, Argento (Dario’s daughter) and Leguizamo, who I normally find to be excruciating yet who wear the role of Cholo like a spike-knuckled glove. I’ll admit that Robert Joy’s “idiot savant” role stretches credibility just a bit (he’s innocent, like a child, but also a crackshot sniper, like a plot device). Top of the class, however, is Hopper, like always, ruling the roost like some sort of megalomaniacal rooster. He’s predictably great, tossing off lines like “Zombies, man…they creep me out” with the joie de vivre that you expect from cinema’s favorite wild man. Even if everyone else in the movie stunk to high heaven, which they don’t, Hopper is still 1000% more charismatic than every actor in Day of the Dead combined.

Ultimately, Land of the Dead is what it is: a sequel that comes just about 20 years too late. While there’s an awful lot to like here and even some stuff to love (the bits involving the zombies’ fascination with fireworks are, to be honest, quite beautiful), this ends up being a pretty big step-down from Dawn of the Dead, despite being a better film, overall, than Day of the Dead (in my opinion, at least). As mentioned before, this is more of an action film than a horror film, for the most part, but it’s never anything less than watchable and, on occasion, has plenty of that old Romero moxie. This may not be Romero firing on all cylinders (by contrast, The Dark Half is a much, much better film) but I’ll take a “pretty-good” Romero zombie film over pretty much any other horror director’s fare any day of the week. Part of me will never stop wondering what might have happened if this had come a mere 5-10 years after Day of the Dead, however, instead of 20.