8/13/14: From the Frying Pan to the Inferno

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blue-collar life, brothers, Casey Affleck, Christian Bale, cinema, co-writers, Crazy Heart, drama, Film, film reviews, Forest Whitaker, Harlan DeGroat, illegal fighting, illegal gambling, Jr., Movies, Out of the Furnace, revenge, Rodney Baze, Russell Baze, Sam Shepard, Scott Cooper, small town life, Willem Dafoe, Woody Harrelson, writer-director, Zoe Saldana

Within moments of meeting Harlan DeGroat (Woody Harrelson) at a drive-in theater, we watch him force a frankfurter down his date’s throat before slamming her head into the dashboard of his muscle car, after which he beats a wannabe Good Samaritan into a bloody pulp before physically throwing his battered date out of the car, menacing the rest of the gawking movie patrons and burning rubber all the way to the horizon. Without a shadow of a doubt, Harlan is one sonuvabitch, violence made flesh, like a rampaging, backwoods god of war.

On the other side of the rainbow from Harlan, we have Russell Baze (Christian Bale), a hard-working, salt-of-the-earth steel worker (just like his dear ol’ da) with a loving girlfriend, strong ties to the community and visions of starting a family in the near future. Russ is the kind of guy that everyone in town knows and likes, the kind of fella that’ll jump-start your car or lend you $20 (if he has it) without being asked. His tattoos hint at time spent in lockup but his attitude is all good intentions and honest attempts to walk the straight and narrow.

Somewhere in the middle of these two extremes lies Rodney Baze, Jr. (Casey Affleck), Russ’s younger brother. Rodney is an ex-Iraq War vet, full of pain, rage and the desire to do anything in life but waste away the remainder of his days in the steel mill, like his “weak” brother and dying father. He firmly believes that he did all the work he’ll ever need to do while in the Armed Forces: from this point on, the U. S. of A. owes him a living, not the other way around. To that end, he makes his money by participating in illegal bare-knuckle fights, most of which he throws, leading him to spend most of his days beat to absolute shit. When he’s not getting beat up for chump change, Rodney is blowing what little money he has at scuzzy off-track betting places, always chasing that elusive “big break,” the kind that routinely seems to pass by people like him and Russ.

The nexus where these three desperate individuals meet forms the crux of Scott Cooper’s powerful Out of the Furnace (2013), a bracing examination of the destructive power of vengeance and the haphazard way in which terrible things sometimes happen to very good people. Despite some minor missteps and a mystifying coda that raises more questions than it answers, Cooper’s film is a slow-burning powerhouse anchored by a dependably sturdy performance from Bale, a thoroughly authentic turn from Affleck and one of the scariest on-screen villains since Max Cady menaced the ever-loving shit out of Sam Bowden.

More than anything, Out of the Furnace is a tragedy, managing to fit almost every definition of the term: the film is relentlessly sad, no doubt, but it’s really about the ultimate downfall of an otherwise good (if flawed) individual. We pretty much like Bale’s Russ from the first time we see him: he’s a hard-working, no-nonsense, blue-collar guy who helps take care of his dying father, tries his damnedest to keep his squirrely brother out of trouble and seems to have a great relationship with his girlfriend, Lena (Zoe Saldana). Although he’s no fabulously wealthy world-changer, Russ seems to have it all. Since this is a tragedy, of course, that means that he’s also going to lose it all.

Russ’ fatal flaw, as it is, ends up being the responsibility he feels for younger brother Rodney. After he finds out that Rodney owes $1500 to small-time gangster John Petty (Willem Defoe), Rodney’s partner in the illegal fighting racket, Russ sets out to make things right with Petty. Stopping by to drop off part of the money, Russ happens to run into Harlan and his associate, who’ve stopped by to menace Petty over the profits from another fight. Passing each other in the doorway, Harlan gives Russ such a stink-eye that he’s prompted to ask if Harlan “has a problem with him.” “I got a problem with everybody,” Harlan snarls back, setting the stage for future conflicts and heartache.

After sharing a few drinks with the jovial Petty, Russ takes off and collides, literally, with his destiny in the form of a broken-down car on an ill-lit country road: Russ slams into the car, which appears to contain a child and, despite doing all he can at the scene, his fate is sealed. When we next see Russ, he’s in prison, forsaken by all of his friends and family save for Rodney, who still comes to visit regularly. Lena, for her part, has moved on to someone else and Russ’ father has passed away, leaving Rodney as his only connection to the old life he once had.

Once he gets out, Russ sees how much everything has really changed. Rodney is now involved with John Petty more than ever, Harlan and his thugs hold the entire county under their brutal sway and Lena is dating Police Chief Wesley Barnes (Forest Whitaker): the couple are expecting their first child and, in a particularly raw scene, Russ congratulates Lena as the former lovers sob and hold each other. Life for Russ is harder than ever but he’s still committed to making the best of things.

A life of leisure, alas, is just not in the cards for these damaged individuals. After Rodney pressures Petty to get him involved with Harlan’s underground fights (brutal affairs that make back-alley grudge-matches look like WWE events), the pair realizes that they are very small fish in a pond stuffed to bursting with ravenous sharks. When Petty is found dead and Rodney disappears, Russ is forced to try to put together all of the pieces. When Chief Barnes seems more interested in keeping Rodney away from Lena than he does in finding Rodney, Russ decides to take matters into his own hands and conduct his own investigation. Hitting the streets with his uncle, Red (Sam Shepard), Russ traces Rodney’s movements right back to Harlan and his backwoods “mafia.” When the law is unable to help, however, Russ must turn his back on “polite” society and give in to the primal rage that drives a monster like Harlan: in order to confront ultimate evil, Russ must, in a way, become that evil. Since this is a tragedy, suffice to say that no one will emerge from this unscathed.

For my money, Out of the Furnace is one of the most “actorly” films I’ve seen in some time: while the occasional action moments hold plenty of impact and the film looks and sounds great, the performances are so rock-solid that they definitely become the focal point of the movie. As usual, Christian Bale completely loses himself in his performance, coming up with something that approaches a less tortured and/or emaciated version of his Trevor Reznik from The Machinist (2004). He ends up projecting such a likeable persona that you really feel bad when his world begins to come crashing around him: Russ is no stereotypical “white knight” but he seems like a genuinely good person. For his part, Affleck gives his most affecting performance, thus far: Rodney is a character that could have across as too self-serving and obnoxious but Affleck finds the core of the character and makes him feel less a cliché than another tragic extension of Russ’ wounded blue-collar soul. The scene where Rodney flips out and starts screaming at Russ could’ve come across as too highly strung, too melodramatic but Affleck and Bale find the inherent, blistered humanity in the moment. One of the greatest compliments I can pay the two is that there was no point in the film where I ever doubted that Russ and Rodney were brothers: the performances felt that authentic.

Towering above it all, however, is the mighty Woody Harrelson. While Harrelson has made a cottage industry out of playing sweet, slightly dumbass characters, I’ve always found him to be at his best when he’s “breaking bad,” as it were, and Harlan DeGroat might be his baddest yet, leap-frogging over the bad cops in Rampart (2011) by a country mile. To not put to fine a point on it, Harrelson is absolutely riveting in the film: from his first scene to his last, it is, literally, impossible to take your eyes off him. While Harlan is bat-shit crazy and unrelentingly scary, Harrelson brings plenty of nuance and shading, as well: the bit where he butts heads with Affleck ends up saying as much about his character as it does about eager-beaver Rodney. Every good revenge film needs a good, despicable villain and Harlan DeGroat is definitely one for the record books: if you’re a fan of Harrelson’s, Out of the Furnace should be required viewing.

While the rest of the cast is quite good (especially Defoe, who seems to be channeling John Waters by way of Steve Buscemi), it was a little disappointing to see Saldana and Whitaker wasted in what amounted to throwaway roles. Whitaker, in particular, doesn’t get to do much more than show up, act mildly concerned and step off-camera: there’s no characterization, making his climatic scene even more ineffective than it might have normally been. The character of Chief Barnes could have been written out of the story and everything would have continued to hum along just fine. Other than the powerful aforementioned scene with Bale, Saldana is similarly wasted, her character seeming to exist only to inject a much-needed female angle into the proceedings: aside from seeming to take place entirely at night, Out of the Furnace also posits a world that seems to consist solely of grouchy men and a few women on the periphery.

Cooper, the writer/director of the Oscar-winning Jeff Bridges vehicle Crazy Heart (2009), brings a similarly sturdy sense of narrative to this film. Kooky coda notwithstanding (and the coda really is a bizarre one, particularly since it appears to unnecessarily throw into question the film’s timeline), Out of the Furnace is a pretty linear and relentless film, if decidedly slow going, at times. While I would have liked a little more grit in the proceedings (the opening scene with Harlan at the drive-in is shot in a washed-out ’70s-style that turns into a more contemporary look for the film “proper”), there’s precious little than I can complain about here. While the film may, ultimately, bear more weight as a particularly grim drama than a revenge film, there’s plenty of both elements to go around. Fans of any of the aforementioned actors (with the possible exception of poor Saldana and Whitaker) would be well-served checking out the film. Anyone who enjoys bravura, all-in portrayals of mad-dog-scary people, however, needs to put this one closer to the top of their list: when Harrelson is good, he’s great. When he’s scary, however, he’s the stuff of nightmares.

5/23/14: Let’s Talk Turkey

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A Bug's Life, Amy Poehler, animated films, Chico and Rita, cinema, Colm Meaney, colonial America, computer-animated, Dan Fogler, film reviews, films, Finding Nemo, Free Birds, George Takei, Horton Hears a Who, Inc., Jimmy Hayward, Jonah Hex, Keith David, life of leisure, Monsters, Movies, Myles Standish, Owen Wilson, Pilgrims and Indians, pizza, Scott Mosier, Shrek, Thanksgiving, the first Thanksgiving, time travel, Toy Story, Toy Story 2, turkey, turkeys, Woody Harrelson, writer-director-actor

I’ve always enjoyed animated films but there came a point when I kind of gave up on the modern crop of “kids’ movies,” probably around the time that Shrek (2001) became such a huge hit. While I’ve never been a big fan of the movie’s animation style, I was even less impressed with the nearly nonstop pop-culture references that seemed to function as jokes. Similar to things like the Scary Movie series, Shrek and its sequels seemed to go down a kind of rabbit-hole of irrelevance: when every joke is about something “hot and current,” the whole film will be hopelessly dated within a week. Since Shrek was so successful, this “pop-culture-scattergun” approach seemed to become the norm and I resigned myself to cherry-picking the individual films that seemed to appeal more to my sensibilities.

Lately, however, there seems to be a bit of a renaissance in more “traditional” animated films, movies that still appeal to kids with their positive themes, goofy sense of humor and bright color palettes, yet are composed of more than just mindless references to current films or cultural trends. In particular, the last five years have shown a real explosion in these types of animated films: Coraline (2009), The Secret of Kells (2009), 9 (2009), A Town Called Panic (2009), Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs (2009), A Cat in Paris (2010), Chico and Rita (2010), A Monster in Paris (2011), Rango (2011), ParaNorman (2012), and The Croods (2013) were not only great, “old-fashioned” animated films but some of my favorite films of their respective years. To this list I can now add Jimmy Hayward’s Free Birds (2013), a rambunctious, intelligent and big-hearted treatise on thinking for yourself, working hard and being your own bird.

“Turkeys are so dumb, they think the farmer is their friend.” So begins Free Birds and so we get our first introduction to our hero, Reggie the Turkey (Owen Wilson). Reggie is a smart, introspective turkey who’s continually dismayed by his fellow turkeys’ lazy, lunk-headed behavior. He’s pretty sure that the farmer is fattening them up for dinner and he’s right: as the bearer of bad news, the group tosses him outside to serve as “representative”/sacrificial goat. As often happens in these kinds of films, however, this is not Reggie’s time to go into that good goodnight: turns out his farm has been chosen by the President of the United States as the site of the annual Thanksgiving turkey pardoning. When the POTUS’s daughter falls in love with Reggie, he gets whisked from the barnyard into the life of Riley: comfy bathrobes, all the free pizza he can eat and all the telenovellas he can wrap his peepers around.

Nothing good lasts forever, of course, and Reggie’s luck runs out when he’s suddenly abducted by a strange turkey named Jake (Woody Harrelson). Jake has a plan: he wants to travel back in time, to the first Thanksgiving, and find a way to take turkey off the menu. Turns out he has a time-machine, by the name of S.T.E.V.E. (voiced by the legendary George Takei), and just needs a partner: whether he wants it or not, Reggie is tagged in and the way-back machine is set to Plymouth Rock.

Once there, Reggie and Jake run smack-dab into a big ‘ol conflict: turns out that the turkeys, led by Jenny (Amy Poehler) and Ranger (writer/director Jimmy Hayward), are currently in pitched battle with the Pilgrim settlers, led by the dastardly Myles Standish (Colm Meaney). Jumping into the fray, Reggie and Jake do what they can to help their turkey ancestors but complications keep arising, namely that Reggie has gotten googly eyes for Jenny. To add to their problems, Chief Broadbeak (Keith David), the turkeys’ wise and venerable leader, is a pacifist and won’t let his group take up arms against the murderous settlers. What’s a turkey to do? If you’re Reggie, Jake and Jenny: plenty, that’s what. Will the turkeys emerge victorious, standing as peers beside the humans rather than food on their plates? Will Reggie ever find the peace and solitude that he (thinks) he’s looking for? Will Jake ever take two minutes to think before he does something? Will there be any unnecessary pop culture references? (Spoiler: just one, as the ever-patient Native Americans remark that the turkeys seem like…”angry birds”…ugh)

From start to finish, Free Birds is a ton of fun. It’s a fast-paced, intelligent and, quite frankly, extremely funny film that relies on characterization and actually humorous situations to make its point. One of the best examples of this has to be the TV shows/commercials that Reggie watches early on. While the pizza commercial is deliriously good (for some reason, it almost reminded me of a Troma take on a pizza commercial), the telenovella is pure gold. For much of the film, Reggie considers himself to be an outsider, a “lone wolf,” as it were. As such, he identifies wholeheartedly with the telenovella’s cool, tough-guy lead, even though he bears not one white of resemblance to Reggie. It’s how he sees himself, however, which is all that matters. More importantly, it’s a great, smart bit of character development that also manages to be goofy good fun: talk about killing two birds with one stone.

Not only is the film genuinely funny, but it’s also got equal measures of big heart and wide-eyed wonder. While Takei is absolutely fantastic as S.T.E.V.E., the time-travel sequences, themselves, are a sight to behold, reminding me (no lie) of the interstellar travel scene in 2001 (1968). There was a genuine sense of wonder, something that I felt not only through the characters but through myself, as well. I may be an avowed outer space fanatic, granted, but I find it hard to believe that “normal” viewers wouldn’t be just as impressed.

Voice-wise, Free Birds is locked-down tighter than Fort Knox. Owen Wilson and Woody Harrelson are dependably good, as expected (although I wish that Woody was a bit more over-the-top, which is kind of what I expected, going in), but Amy Poehler is the real heart and soul of the production. Her Jenny is such a delightful, wonderful, cheerful, smart and strong character that I wonder why we don’t see her type in actual live-action films. Regardless, Poehler is marvelous: I dare any (sane) viewer to not fall in love with Jenny by the credit roll.

Even though Free Birds is very much a big, glossy, computer-animated production, I really enjoyed the look, finding it to be both surprisingly warm and delightfully detailed: there’s always something going on in the margins of the frame, giving the film a bustling, “alive” quality. While I’ve yet to see writer/director Hayward’s version of Horton Hears a Who (2008), I have seen his version of Jonah Hex (2010): while I wasn’t blown away, finding it to be fairly close to the forgettable Van Helsing (2004), it was still a bit better than other films of its ilk. Not much, mind you, but a bit. After being so impressed by Free Birds, I’ll definitely need to give Horton a shot, although I’ll probably stop short of re-examining Jonah Hex: some things are probably best left buried.

If you’ve got kids, or are just young at heart, you could do a whole lot worse than Free Birds. While the film is occasionally silly (the coda is particularly eye-rolling), it also packs moments of actual emotional heft, such as the dramatic scene where Standish’s men set the turkey tree on fire. The performances are energetic and fun, the themes are smart and timely and the whole thing ends with Social Distortion’s cover of CCR’s “Up Around the Bend” playing over the end credits: it’s almost like they looked right into my head.

2/5/14: The One With the Bunny

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Abbie Cornish, action films, Christopher Walken, cinema, Colin Farrell, dog-napping, dumb films, film reviews, films, Gabourey Sidibe, Harry Dean Stanton, hitmen, In Bruges, Martin McDonagh, Movies, psycho killers, Sam Rockwell, screenwriters, self-referential, Seven Psychopaths, Tom Waits, Woody Harrelson

Sometimes, there really doesn’t need to be a better reason to watch a film than pure escapism. When the weight of the world becomes too heavy and everything seems too grim and too real, a nice, light, fluffy, loud popcorn movie can be just what the doctor ordered. Heck, I grew up on dumb ’80s B-movies, so I know the joy of this more than anyone. To be honest, however, big, dumb movies nowadays don’t do much for me.

Kind of like the person who has to constantly proclaim their “indie-ness,” some films just try way too hard to seem effortless and breezy. Most of Zach Snyder’s output strikes me in this way (especially Sucker Punch) and I get the same basic vibe from trailers I’ve seen of Kick Ass and its sequel. There’s a certain art to making a fun, dumb, breezy film and, as far as I’m concerned, too few modern films get it right: too much in one direction and the film becomes genuinely bone-headed; not enough and it all seems like too much of an obvious “wink” to the audience.

If genuinely fun, dumb films are difficult to pull off, then trying to replicate the complex structure of something like Pulp Fiction, while simultaneously attempting to adhere to the tenets of dumb movies is almost impossible. Too many Tarantino clones drown their proceedings in either fake blood or chewy dialogue, either of which can turn an audience off faster than a filmmaker can pull them back in. A few films, however, manage to walk this tightrope quite ably. Martin McDonagh’s Seven Psychopaths almost makes the trip but, ultimately, ends up in the net with most of the others.

I was a huge fan of writer/director McDonagh’s previous film, In Bruges, finding it to be one of the more clever, impactful “Tarantino clones” out there. The acting, by Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson, was spot-on and the story hummed along like a juiced-up power line. That being said, I was a little bit wary of Seven Psychopaths when I first saw the trailer: compared to In Bruges, this definitely seemed like a much louder, dumber picture. Throw in one of those huge modern ensemble casts that seem to populate every action movie nowadays (Sam Rockwell, Colin Farrell, Christopher Walken, Woody Harrelson, Tom Waits, Abbie Cornish, Harry Dean Stanton, Gabourey Sidibe) and this wasn’t the immediate must-see that I expected after In Bruges. My expectations, to say the least, weren’t particularly high.

Unlike In Bruges, Seven Psychopaths is a very dumb film, almost aggressively so. The dialogue, for the most part, is bloated and clunky; the acting is either exceptionally broad or pretty good; situations range from eye-rolling to forehead smacking and any sense of logic is pretty much tossed to the way-side before the film’s first act has concluded. That being said, Seven Psychopaths moves along at a vicious pace and is quite a rollercoaster ride, provided one is able to check their brain at the door.

The film concerns the antics of screenwriter Marty (Farrell), his “best friend” Billy (Rockwell) and Billy’s best friend, Hans (Walken). Marty is trying to write a script called “Seven Psychopaths” (natch), while Billy and Hans have a simpler goal: they just want to continue running their dog-napping scheme and, in the case of Billy, being a general hemorrhoid on the ass of humanity. Billy, you see, is a verifiable lunatic, a real psycho who acts first and thinks second in any given situation. Billy and Hans end up taking the wrong pooch, a little mutt belonging to Charlie (Harrelson). If Billy is a little nuts, Charlie is a whole lotta nuts and is determined to reclaim his prized pet at any cost, preferably via the violent deaths of everyone involved. Will Marty ever finish his screenplay? Will Charlie ever get back his dog? Will we ever find out who the Seven Psychopaths are? Will it make sense when we do?

Similar to junk food, Seven Psychopaths is enjoyable, at the time, but completely disposable afterwards. In other words, this may be one of the best “big dumb movies” in history. The opening scene is great shorthand for what the rest of the film has to offer: two hitmen stand around, making idle conversation, while an unseen masked man approaches them steadily from behind. The two hitmen are so wrapped up in their banter that they never even react when the masked gunman is suddenly behind them, turning their faces into red mist with a couple well-placed shots to the back of the head. A title appears on the screen: Psychopath #1. And we’re off to the races!

Or are we? For, you see, this very first scene was the point where I realized that Seven Psychopaths was going to be the film equivalent of marzipan cake decorations. To start with, the banter between the hitmen is leaden and, quite frankly, stupid. Had the dialogue been clever and well-written, the scene may have had some of the feeling of Reservoir Dogs famous “Madonna breakfast” or Pulp Fiction’s “Royale with Cheese.” As it is, the dialogue feels like it was improvised on the spot by a couple of actors who aren’t particularly comfortable with improv. It’s almost painful to watch/listen to but made doubly so by the unsettling notion that the filmmakers think this is pretty cool. They must, because the clunky dialogue rears it head time and time again. I couldn’t count the number of times where I would genuinely invested in the action only to be pulled out completely by some silly, stupid or unnecessarily self-referential bit of dialogue. Again, it had all of the unfortunate earmarks of a writer a little too pleased with his own sense of cleverness.

Which, ultimately, is a shame because a lot of Seven Psychopaths is a real hoot, albeit in a moonshine rather than cognac way. Some of the vignettes that introduce Marty’s  psychopaths (particularly the Vietnamese “priest” and the Amish killer) are stylish in a nearly perfect way and the actions scenes all have a real sense of urgency and energy to them. The acting isn’t always notable but it’s usually energetic, with Harrelson deserving special mention as a genuinely scary individual. Sobbing over his dog one minute, killing an innocent woman the next, Charlie reminded me (in a strictly positive way) of Gary Oldman’s stellar Drexl, from True Romance. Every film needs a good villain and Charlie was pretty darn good. Walken, as usual, was pretty great and while I’m not the biggest Farrell or Rockwell fan, I thought they were both believable, although I often found Billy to be a completely obnoxious, capricious character.

Unfortunately, lots of good elements are constantly let down by a sub-par script. While the dialogue is bad enough, some of the gaping plot holes and confusing story elements are almost worse. At one point, I was so confused by the various psychopaths’ backstories that I actually thought two of them were the same person, which is made more confusing later on when two of them ARE the same person. And this happened despite the fact that I took pages of copious notes…yikes. There’s also two campfire “storytelling” scenes that take place at different times but are shot and presented in the exact same way, making it seem as if the events occur at the same time. Not a critical injury, mind you, but pretty damn sloppy, especially when compared to the tight plotting of In Bruges.

Don’t get me wrong: there’s an awful lot to like about Seven Psychopaths: any film that features Tom Waits as a serial killing serial-killer killer with a fluffy white rabbit, Christopher Walken tripping on peyote in the desert and Harry Dean Stanton as a vengeful Amish father is already a lot cooler than most films out there. The visuals are bright and gaudy, there are a few nicely stylized shootouts and everything chugs along with all the anarchy of an old Warner Bros. cartoon. Too bad, then, that the film ends up being so wildly inconsistent and, ultimately, stupid. I’m more than willing to tell my brain to go sit out on the porch for a while: Seven Psychopaths would rather I shoot it and put it out of its misery.