2008 / Robert Logevall > I’m probably not the easiest of people to please when adapting a Haruki Murakami work, but I tried my best to understand Logevall’s vision. Unfortunately, unlike Jun Ichikawa’s work on Tony Takitani, the hour and a half of meandering done by star Jason Lew seems forced and unnecessary. This was never a story that should have been developed this far, and had it been necessary to make it full-length, maybe taking Ichikawa’s direction (where the last half of his film is basically based on one short paragraph) would have been more suited. Otherwise, it mostly bores. On top, Joan Chen’s indie-quirks are pretty hit or miss (the latter being this, the former being Saving Face). Treatment for Murakami’s written word is hard: His novels are too complex, and his short stories are too simple. Either way, Murakami or no Murakami, All God’s Children Can Dance works only on the most superficial levels before receding back into the uninteresting.
Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium
2007 / Zach Helm > Had high hopes for Helm’s debut, having loved his writing in Stranger than Fiction. Throw in Dustin Hoffman, Natalie Portman and Jason Batemen and we should have had a winner, no? Sadly, the film is a complete and utter mess based on ideals that are better fit for a sketch on Sesame Street. While the store in the film brims with imagination, the plot apparently got the short end of that stick.
The Golden Compass
2007 / Chris Weitz > Boring and bloated though undeniably gorgeous, it’s no surprise that The Golden Compass failed miserably with both critics and audiences. Once you get past the eye candy, the film lacks the charisma to stay afloat, which is too bad, because now we’ll probably never get to see the story finish. This also marks a serious misstep for Weitz, whose About a Boy was full of heart and wonder.
Elite Squad
2007 / José Padilha > Regardless of all the nonsense about Elite Squad being a fascist film, I believe it genuinely tries to portray the morally ambiguous mindset of those who have been given the right to uphold peace in one of the worst ghettos in the world. Coming from the man who directed the eye-opening documentary Bus 174, there’s less reason to believe that Padilha would miss a chance to use the world’s stage (as it screened and won at this year’s Berlinale) to make a statement about his country. And his statement is simple: These people live hard lives, filled with decisions that never seem right. The gangsters (as portrayed beautifully on the other side by City of God) are never right. The BOPE, the special police of the favelas shown here, are never right. Then who is? The primary critique towards the film may be its caricatured portrayal of the wealthy, but even that could be argued as a medium via which to further polarize the law enforcement’s viewpoint. The resolution simply makes the battle versus good and evil more indistinct, and sadly, that sort of finality may be the only truth there is.
Tropic Thunder
2008 / Ben Stiller > Riding on the waves of a star-studded cast and one of the best (and funniest) marketing campaigns for a comedy I’ve ever seen, Tropic Thunder had some of the highest expectations I’ve had for a film all year. But, as it often happens when a lot of big egos join together in one project, the film ends up being more a collection of multiple hilarious scenes rather than a successful, comedic whole. Specifically on point are Robert Downey, Dr. and the head-splitting brilliance of Tom Cruise who both take their ridiculous characters to the perfect level of seriousness. But staggering behind seems to be Ben Stiller, whose schtick, however self-deprecating, feels overused and works mainly as a vehicle to move the story forward. Some of the lines, admittedly, are some of the funniest in recent film memory, though one of the most underrated may be Jack Black’s (after shoving heroine into a couple of guards’ faces): “Let’s move! We only have 16 hours before they wake up!”
Speed Racer
2008 / The Wachowski Brothers > Ever since The Matrix sequels reared their pretentious heads, The Wachowski Brothers have been on my shit list for their self-serving, pseudo-philosophical bullshit. V for Vendetta, even with a fine directorial effort by James McTeigue, couldn’t rub off its leftist silliness for a second to let me breathe in the excitement of the man behind the mask. And with Speed Racer, they almost cornered me into something similar with its heavy-handed anti-capitalist angle. But alas, the prettiness (of both the film and Christina Ricci) saved the day. It’s fun, lots of fun, even with the annoyance of Spirtle and Chim Chim, though I gather, as someone who has never seen the animated episodes, that this was part of the show’s charm.
Emile Hirsch seemed a bit miscast, but honestly, nobody cared much for acting in this. (On that note, when did Dr. Jack Shephard leave the island and become Racer X?) The true star of the film was the visuals, and my, how glorious they were. You know how the Crayola 64 packs always had a few neon, ultra-bright colors? Apparently these were the only ones used when doing the Speed Racer storyboards. The Brothers utilize their genuine feel for style in conjunction with an aptly thrown in kitsch factor that makes me wonder what everyone who threw down sharp one-liners at this gentle giant were actually expecting.
Meet Market
2008 / Charlie Loventhal > I’m not sure why I watched this (Krista Allen, maybe?), but Meet Market is basically a self-congratulating ode to those who believe there’s some sort of sexually charged possibility in picking out the right tomato. It’s not bad by any means, but it’s not memorable either. The kind of metropolitan dating flicks that actually work to the end are the ones that bring something new, not used stories picked up from existing flicks. It’s an interesting effort, no doubt, but one that’s subpar and doomed to be filler on cable television.
Lost in Translation
2003 / Sofia Coppola > Coppola’s sophomore effort has quite a few tangibles working for it: Impactful yet understated acting, a functional/moody location and a near-perfect mixture of ambience and rock for the soundtrack. But these only tell half of the story. The feel of it all—being alone in a city where your mind and body seems misplaced, not knowing if what tomorrow brings is worth waking up or going to bed for, wondering if the past you’ve lived is the past you’ve wanted to live—these are the intangibles that are undeniably infused into the self-analyzing experience that is Lost in Translation.
But I’d be lying if I said this was a perfect film: I find Scarlett Johansson’s character to be weak, though part of it’s because Bill Murray puts forth a subtle yet powerful performance portraying a man of such humanity that she comes off comparatively cookie-cutter. The pacing isn’t always perfect, with hiccups that seem misplaced and solo scenes of Johansson that pale in comparison to those of Murray. And while I never really found the film to be racist by any means, the xenophobic viewpoints sometimes come off silly rather than calculated. But the point remains that Coppola, with the help of Brian Reitzell and Roger J. Manning Jr.’s effusive score, has concocted a mood piece of master quality that takes away our sense of vengeful cynicism and fills it with the kind of hope and bewilderment that both the young and the young at heart seek.
The Host
2006 / Bong Joon-ho > Much like Cloverfield is an episode of The O.C. with a monster in it, The Host is effectively a family dramedy with a monster in it. The difference between the two, thankfully, is that there is no Marissa Cooper. (If you want to throw in the fact that there are also no backstabbing stepmothers, drunk biological mothers and workaholic adopted mothers, that’s also positive, but there is one bad ass archer sister you must yield for.)
Coming on the back of Bong’s Memories of Murder, which I believe in some ways is objectively the finest Korean film of the decade, The Host’s US$11 million budget was daunting and created enough hype in itself to make people curious what was in tow (especially after Kwak Kyung-taek’s miserable failure with Typhoon’s US$15 million budget). It didn’t disappoint. Featuring a strong cast of Memories of Murder’s Song Kang-ho, Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance’s Bae Doo-na (the bad ass archer sister) and Rules of Dating’s Paek Hae-il, the film brought forth much praise from its premiere at Cannes. How?
It goes back to the premise of being a family dramedy with a monster in it. This, in itself, creates a plot that isn’t dependent on the monster, which, much like special effects, should sometimes be a device to further character development and storyline rather than be the focus. Along the way, Bong makes some social commentary on pollution and the American occupation (arguably the movie’s weakest points), but tries his best not to forget about the little girl who’s sharing the sewer with the monster itself. And the family that pulls together to save her.
The special effects are adequate and not distractive enough to bring into question its quality. The casting/acting is spot on, with every character equally contributing to the problems and solutions (which is key, since family is about sharing). The pacing is just right, the script is often hilarious (such as the brilliant funeral scene), and the resolution works in a manner that satiates viewers without insulting them. And so lamentably, I’ve haven’t seen Korean cinema of this caliber since first catching this at the 2006 New York Film Festival.
Semi-Pro
2008 / Kent Alterman > Somehow, Will Ferrell has become a product (and that’s fine). Since Frank the Tank first streaked through the college campus in Old School, his hyper-persona has become a face that sells movie tickets. This has led to many memorable parts: Ricky Bobby in Talladega Nights, Buddy in Elf, and a subtler Harold Crick in Stranger than Fiction. But a hyper-persona alone cannot make a film work. Without proper casting, writing and direction, this throwback comedy during the days of the American Basketball Association, with crazy balls, crazy moves and Julius Erving, falls flat even before it begins. Simply put: There’s just too much Ferrell and not much of anything else. If we want that, there are better options. Sure, the viral marketing ploy with Heidi Klum in the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue was brilliant, but that was better than the film itself. Hopefully the studios got the message, as Semi-Pro is Ferrell’s worst performing film to date.