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And we rest on day Slevin

2006-03-08T15:19:00.000-05:00

It is perhaps the most unfortunate title for a movie, but Lucky Number Slevin manages to overcome its appellation to deliver a thoroughly entertaining piece of cinematic misdirection. What is it about? It revolves around (I kid you not) a mysterious assassin named Smith, a black crime lord whose nom de guerre is The Boss, a Jewish crime lord known as The Rabbi (which is less a nom de guerre than an official title -- he actually is a rabbi), and a very unlucky young man by the name of Slevin Kalevra.

One imagines his name was the beginning of his misfortune.

Bruce Willis is Smith. Morgan Freeman is The Boss. Sir Ben Kingsley is The Rabbi, and the brash Josh Hartnett is Slevin, and if that isn't a big enough cast for you, feel free to add in Lucy Liu as a perky next-door-neighbor-slash-love-interest and Stanley Tucci as a detective who sticks his nose into this convoluted set of happenstance.

It would be difficult to explain the flick's setup without giving away too much. It's not that the opening premise holds up (surprise, surprise) under the narrative swerves that typify this genre of crime films, but half the fun of the movie is watching Hartnett wisecrack his way through a "very long story" (which thanks to the brisk and efficient editing, doesn't feel all that long). It's the zinging one-liners the script gives to Slevin's unfortunate soul that carry the film through its first half, and when paired with the ever-so-clever characters he's forced to interact with, it makes this film arguably the wittiest flick to be released so far this year.

Let us just say the opening sequence is a frenzied and humorous series of flashbacks that lead us to a wheelchair bound Smith telling a grizzly story about a gambling loss at the racetrack that led to the murder of a man, his kid, and his ex-wife. It's just the beginning of a "Kansas City shuffle," as Smith describes it, and it serves absolutely no purpose until the plot swerves about two-thirds of the way in, at which point it serves as the basis for explaining the truth behind what you thought you've been watching.

This is a hyper-stylized flick (the wallpaper alone will overwhelm you) in a well-worn genre of heist films and misdirection crime capers. It's been done before, and in the States, most people think Tarantino when they think of such a film, but director Paul McGuigan is Scottish and he's drawing heavily on the class of masterpiece criminal dramedies that have made some British auteurs famous (think Guy Ritchie's Snatch or Lock, Stock & Two Smoking Barrels).

In a brief in-theatre chat after a screening of the film, McGuigan confessed to me that he'd made very conscious decisions about doing things with this film that were a bit out of the norm from the standard approach (he mentioned Tarantino specifically). For example, he eschewed source music that could've made a killer soundtrack in favor of an actual film score. Then there was that wallpaper.

"My wife would ask me if I was looking at those wallpaper websites again," he joked. "I had to put up some porn so she'd think I was OK."

McGuigan, who joins cinematographer Peter Sova for the fourth time, no doubt brings much to the table. His fast-paced sense of visual stimulation and a keen knack for thriller storytelling helps make this more than the run of the mill crime caper. But the real strength is in the script.

Take a look at the trailer, and you'll see just a bit of the dialogue that so typified the film and made it such a joy to watch. Arguably the best bit of dialogue was a scene between Slevin and The Rabbi's henchmen, one named Saul and the other (in full on curls and black hat) who doesn't talk. First the goon nods an apology for having to punch Slevin earlier, prompting a few questions about why he never speaks.

"You'll have to ask him," retorts Saul.

"Would he answer me?" asks Slevin.

"No."

The deadpan humor goes on (and on), but finally abates when the film gets down to the business of explaining just what is actually occurring. Here Lucky Number Slevin turns towards the dark side and becomes a deadly serious flick about revenge and honor among killers.

It's a bit of a harsh turn, but it's handled perfectly, though one could quibble with Lucy Liu's character (though the actress' performance is great, against type, and a welcome addition to the ensemble). Lindsay wasn't absolutely necessary to begin with, and the way her character is resolved leaves a bit to be desired. Still, minor quibbles are all this film warrants in the way of criticism.

As it turns out, Paul McGuigan's lucky number really is Slevin.

The Munich cinema massacre

2006-01-03T08:57:00.000-05:00

Forgive the critics of Munich. They are a reactionary lot, easily riled up by the name Tony Kushner (screenplay by) and the film's focus on the Israeli reprisals rather than the Munich Olympics massacre that prompted them. Without even seeing the film, some have gone so far as to denounce it as an anti-Israel betrayal on the part of Mr. Spielberg (he of Schindler's List and the Shoah Foundation), a dangerous attempt at "moral equivalence."

There are no two words more froth-inducing to pro-Israel reactionaries than "moral equivalence." I use it in quotations, because it's often a load of bunk and an excuse for dehumanizing the Palestinian population, and it's even more a load of bunk in the case of Munich.

Before going into exactly why the criticisms lobbed at Munich are so utterly dumb, let's get one thing out of the way. I don't ever want to watch this film again. Spielberg has crafted the most torpid affair in recent cinematic history. This is not a good film, though I wouldn't go so far as to say it's a bad film. This is Spielberg, and though he may have made his missteps, he is nothing if not proficient at the craft of filmmaking.

However, technical proficiency does not a fine film make. In this case, it makes a plodding flick that lumbers on for almost three hours with little in the way of actual plot. The Israeli hit squad finds a target. They craft a plan to kill the target. Then they kill the target, usually with some hiccup meant to induce tension and show the dehumanizing strain of their job. But mostly, it's just a hiccup, and then on to the next round.

By the time the film gets around to showing the emotional and moral devastation wrought on the assassins who cling to their basic righteousness despite the acts they find themselves compelled to commit, most of the audience has stopped caring. I just wanted the film to end already.

And it ended. It came to its close with nary a whimper, right in front of the New York skyline -- World Trade Center and all. One imagines this is Spielberg's way of linking the past with the present, the Israeli experience with the newly evolving American one. Or perhaps he is trying to show us that the purpose of his tale is larger than pro-Israel or anti-Israel polemics, that its about humanity in an age of violence and fear.

Whatever it was, it was also ham-handed. I'm beginning to seriously doubt Spielberg's ability to craft a decent ending.

* * *

Now that it has been established how little I like this film, let me present a defense of it. Sadly, so little has been made of whether the film is something anyone would like to watch. Far too much has been made of whether or not it's anti-Israel or not. Has Spielberg betrayed his people?

This idiot certainly thinks so (and no, it is not too strong a word). Leon Wieseltier of The New Republic also thinks Spielberg has gone round the bend. He said so on December 9 in his own magazine. David Brooks of The New York Times thinks Spielberg is an apologist for evil. Neither of them are idiots, but they act like ones more often than they should.

What's wrong with this film exactly? Apparently because it bothers to humanize Palestinians, including Palestinians who turn themselves over to acts of terrorism. It shows, horror of horrors, the moral struggle of men who act in defense of Israel but question how far they can go before losing their humanity. It conveys a complex reality. This is, so it turns out, unforgivable.

Critics like the idiot, Howard Galganov, would rather Spielberg have shown a simple story about evil Palestinians, utterly devoid of human decency and thus undeserving of the slightest sympathies. The Israeli assassins would never have a doubt in the world that they were righteous warriors, and we'd all go home content in the knowledge that Israel is good, Palestinians are bad, and the sooner we wipe them out (or at least totally break their will militarily) the better off we'll be.

Give me a break. I can't begrudge these people as much as I'd like. Many of them are fine people, decent people, even complicated people. And in a world where Israel's detractors, anti-Semites among them, are so quick to portray any semblance of failure, misconduct, or weakness as proof of the inherent unworthiness of Israel, it's easy to be reactionary. In a time when the war in the media (where Israel is utterly flumoxed) is often more important than the one on the ground (which, as it turns out, is where Israel has the advantage), it's easy to blanche at the thought of a film showing Israel's warts alongside her virtues.

Nevertheless, these people have to get a grip. Every time they assert that this is a black and white issue, they undermine their own credibility as well as the credibility of more reasonable supporters of Israel. Few people, though not few enough, are willing to stomach the line that ours is a black and white world. Because it's not.

Moreover, understanding does not need to convey sanction. Because we can come to understand why a Palestinian decides to take up arms and kill civilians does not mean we condone that killing. We can fight it and understand it at the same time. Indeed, without some understanding, we'll never be able to overcome that evil. We can only be consumed by it, forced to destroy a people or surrender to them.

And that, ultimately, is the point of Spielberg's film. However poorly it was done, he is begging us to use our minds to understand. Fight terrorism he says, never surrender in the face of evil, but seek out an understanding of why that evil is born. If that means you must recognize the underlying humanity in your enemies, then so be it, and if that makes it difficult to simply wipe them out without a second thought, then why is that so bad?

This is actually pro-Israel. It shows the humanity is never lost in these Israeli assassins, that they struggle with what they must do more than the Palestinians who never tried to see the humanity in their Israeli victims. Based on the reaction of Israel's supporters, one wonders if Spielberg is giving too much credit to the Israeli side.

This message of understanding alongside strength, of recognizing the humanity in our enemies as a way of preserving our own decency in the face of violence and war, is a fundamentally Jewish one. Shame on those who are so shrill in their defense of the Jewish state that they forget the values of the Jewish people, and shame on Spielberg for making such an utterly dull film.

Both have done a disservice to the struggle of our time, the battle against fundamentalism and terrorism. I'll leave it to you as to who has done the greater disservice.

Producers doesn't produce

2005-12-19T09:57:00.000-05:00

For more than a year, I've waited with baited breath and heightened anticipation for The Producers, a film about a musical based on a musical about a film about a musical. Since I never had the opportunity to catch the craze of Mel Brooks' Broadway production on the Great White Way, I was looking forward to the day when I could finally get a glimpse at what all the fuss was about.

Unfortunately the new film, already attracting the expected end-of-the-year award buzz, just didn't do it for me and here's why:

For starters, comedy musicals in 2005 have to be something special, something above the fray for them to work with a modern day audience. Broad slapstick style humor, Mel Brooks' stock and trade, works with the borscht belt generation but for the next generation it needs something more. On this level, the film doesn't deliver. To today's audiences, grand gestures, overacting, and scene eating seem passe when not done in an ironic fashion.

Secondly, what makes the film seem "outdated" is its overzealous use of gay humor. Had this been the original 1968 film, it would be funny. But viewed in the context of today's vast comedic landscape -- which encompasses the much funnier narcissistic humor of shows like Arrested Development, Curb Your Enthusiasm, and even (to a lesser extent) of NBC's breakout hits My Name is Earl and The Office -- the homosexual jokes fall flat. Gay humor is old hat (we've been enjoying Will & Grace and Queer Eye for the Straight Guy for years -- indeed Queer Eye's Jai "Culture Guy" Rodriguez makes a brief cameo in the film). And now even gay dramas (Brokeback Mountain) are garnering critical acclaim. So to use this brand of humor seems ignorant at best.

Thirdly, the film looks like a stage production. Unlike the 2002 film adaptation of the musical Chicago, which had inventive cinematography, strong edits, and lavish dance numbers, The Producers looks bland. It's no wonder, considering the film is directed by Susan Stroman whose experience is mostly of the Broadway stage variety. As A.O. Scott of The New York Times correctly points out, "no effort has been made to adjust the show to the scale of the movie screen."

Perhaps the film's one saving grace is Will Ferrell's hilarious portrayal of the neo-Nazi loving screenwriter Franz Liebkind. He deserves his recent Golden Globe nomination for the role. His Saturday Night Live breeding, best explored in film's like Old School and Anchorman, are much more relatable to today's audiences. It's a shame we can't say that for the rest of the film.

Read our profile of Mel Brooks here.

The Christening of Sarah Silverman

2005-12-13T11:24:00.000-05:00

When I first saw the preview for Sarah Silverman's film Jesus is Magic, I was ecstatic. The dark-haired seemingly quiet comedienne had finally made her way to the big-screen. The short trailer was hilarious. It had everyone in the theater laughing with glee. Two months later, I took two friends with me to see the film, one male and one female, to gauge its hilarity. We sat in a mostly empty theater, eagerly waiting to be entertained.

The film opens with Silverman and two of her "Hollywood" friends discussing recent projects. While her friends congratulate each other on their successes, Silverman stares at them with a worried look. The friends stop the self-congratulatory backslapping and ask Silverman what she has done recently. She pauses, and then slowly the lie tumbles out, "I'm doing a show ... about the Holocaust ... and AIDs. And it's a musical. It opens tonight." Her friends are in awe.

This is where the film really starts, as Silverman begins to sing about how she has to create a show based on the Holocaust and AIDs. Oh yeah, and it's a musical. The scenes flow from Silverman doing stand-up to elaborate musical numbers done with green-screens and a four-piece band as she "improvises" this epic show. Silverman's stand-up is raunchy at times, as she discusses anal sex with her boyfriend, "That's where poo comes from, and that's it."

Her jokes are funny largely due to her delivery and the fact that this sexist racist humor comes from a sweet little Jewish girl. She rarely launches into the late Richard Pryor-like frenzies; instead she takes a low-key approach and then throws in a blunt punch line: "The best time to get pregnant is when you're a black teenager." This style of stand-up blindsides the audience, but often misses the mark. I found that for most of the film, a large part of the 20 people attending weren't laughing. One couple actually walked out, not offended, but bored.

The film is short, thankfully. After finishing her show, Silverman indulges herself backstage with a bong hit and then her two friends from the beginning of the show come to congratulate her. She listens to their praise, but shoos them out for some "me time," which is odd considering the last 70 minutes were already all about her.

Silverman's film may be amusing and off-color, but it could've been more effective as a feature film if she has concentrated on keeping the audience's attention rather than offending them.

Read our profile of Sarah Silverman here.

Ignore the Protocols

2005-11-28T08:54:00.000-05:00

Marc Levin's new documentary Protocols of Zion made waves at Sundance this year ... but I'm not really sure why. Yes, the subject matter -- how the controversial Russian Protocols of the Elders of Zion has spurred a century of virulent anti-Semitism -- is a hot button topic that many Jews and non-Jews alike will find interesting.

However, the film's undoing is not in its topic, but in the way Levin attempts to get his message -- whatever that may be -- across to the audience. Levin, who gained notoriety with 1998's Slam, uses the attacks of 9/11 (and the subsequent popularized myth that no Jews were killed in the World Trade Center) as the springboard for his road trip (which barely leaves the New York area) to see how people really feel about Jews in America.

Again, that's all well and good, a fine idea for a compelling documentary. But, unfortunately, Levin gets in the way by driving the film into various differing trajectories. First, he turns it into a father-son flick by dragging his dad along to reminisce about growing up Jewish in the Bronx. Then, one day while filming, he sees something on the news about the war in Iraq and decides to devote 20 minutes to that. Then, on another day of filming, an Arab sheik is murdered. Another 20 minutes about that.

A documentary about any one of these topics would be interesting on their own merit. But Levin has cinematic A.D.D. and is not content to stick with just one. Compound that with the fact that Levin is insistent on being incendiary, and likes to push buttons ... like when he badmouths Arabs ... in front of Arabs.

In any event, it's a Jewish film which means it'll draw the usual crowd of tribe members wishing to see themselves reflected on the silver screen. Nonetheless, you may want to curb your enthusiasm for this one.

A holiday movie for the rest of us

2005-11-21T10:08:00.000-05:00

Siblings Benyamin and Chanie Cohen both went out and saw Ushpizin. While they may have the same genetic code, they don't have the same opinion of this Israeli film.

She said: In the Israeli film Ushpizin, directed by Gidi Dar, two escaped convicts visit an ultra-Orthodox family in the Meah Shearim section of Jerusalem on the holiday of Sukkot, where the couple are going through particularly troubled times of their own.

During the first few minutes of the movie, I have to admit that skepticism overtook me. The last time I saw Chassidic garb on the big screen was in A Stranger Among Us, where Melanie Griffith (not very plausibly) seduces a Chassidic man in Williamsburg. And the gap-toothed convict in the movie brought back childhood memories of the same hokey-looking criminals in Home Alone.

But as the movie progressed, I found myself forgetting my original cynicism, and being drawn into the extremely moving, touching, and even humorous story. The lead actor (who also wrote the script for the film), Shuli Rand, excels at portraying human emotion (without even reading the subtitles, you can interpret his happiness, sadness, and anger just in his eyes), and his on-screen wife (who is actually his real-life spouse), gives a brave and affecting performance herself. The onscreen chemistry between them was clear, without a single kiss shown during the entire movie.

And where with A Stranger Among Us, Orthodox moviegoers found themselves yelling at the screen with the inconsistencies of how unrealistically (and detrimentally) Chassidic life is portrayed, they will find heartening how realistic this movie gets the job done. That's probably because (as I found out afterward), the movie was actually filmed on location in Jerusalem and many of the speaking parts in the film were cast to formerly secular actors who became religious themselves.

The movie's message: everything in life happens for a reason, and the obstacles that we face are tests of faith that we must overcome. Hokey? Yes. But a good time at the movies? Absolutely.

He said: With most movies I see, they rarely ever live up to the hype. So most movies I see are at a tremendous disadvantage. With expectations set high, it's not too often that they actually deliver. George Clooney's sleep-inducing Good Night, and Good Luck is a recent example.

So with Ushpizin, I had heard this was It's A Wonderful Life for Jews (which, admittedly, piqued my interest). That, I knew, was already strike one. I already knew it wasn't actually going to be a classic and timeless holiday film that would be cherished for generations and aired on television every year.

Nonetheless, I was still excited. So let me say it now: This film is not bad, but it's not that great either. It's got a ho-hum storyline and the acting is just fine. But like every other Jewish film I see, it preys on such stereotypes as to make the film an unenjoyable experience. Why does every movie with Jews in it have to show such extremes -- a Chassid, an atheist? Why can't the American public be exposed to non-fanatics such as, and this is just one example, Modern Orthodox Jews -- who lead realtively average lives of being a doctor or a lawyer, but also keep kosher and observe Shabbat?

Curb Your Enthusiasm, which is one of the most prescient shows on television today, comes close to showing America what a "normal" Jew is in this country. This season alone has shown High Holiday services, a Passover Seder, and Larry affixing a mezuzah on his doorpost -- although he used a commemorative nail from the Passion of the Christ. He's a typical American Reform Jew. And it's important for our country -- who often believe in ridiculous misnomers about Jews -- to be exposed to the non-fanatical side of our religion.

All that being said, Ushpizin is a pleasant way to spend two hours. And after reading my review, there's no way the hype will ruin it for you.

Ushpizin opens in Atlanta on Wednesday, November 23, at the Landmark Midtown Art theater. For showtimes, click here.

Suicide bombing, a practical affair

2005-11-09T09:47:00.000-05:00

The War Within: 3 stars
Paradise Now: 4 stars (Playing at the Landmark Midtown Art Cinema, showtimes)

Earlier this year, there was a film about a suicide bomber. It was called The War Within, and it wasn't half bad. It was only half good largely because it tried too hard to be fair, to tip-toe down the line of political sensitivity a bit too much. It depicted a Pakistani who, having endured a torturous (literally) incarceration, is smuggled into the United States so he might blow himself to smithereens at Grand Central Station.

It's certainly worth seeing, assuming you can find somewhere to see it. The bomber Hassan shows up at the New Jersey home of his friend Sayeed, who having no idea of Hassan's intentions welcomes him to stay. Tensions build as Hassan's views slip out and he begins to doubt his mission, wondering if he might be better off just living the happy life of an American family man -- or something like that.

As I said, it's worth viewing. But it wasn't great.

Paradise Now is better, also about suicide bombers, and set in Israel instead of the other capital of world Jewry. It's been bopping around the festival circuit, but it lands in Atlanta's Landmark Midtown Art Cinema, and even more than The War Within it's worth a viewing.

In this case, the pitfalls of political correctness are done away with. It's not only that the filmmakers (Israeli-born Palestinian director with a crew of Israelis, Palestinians, and Westerners) weren't making a film about Muslims in the United States, but a film about Palestinians in their native region. In this case, they sidestep grandiose political ambition by merely depicting two days in the life of a suicide bombing duo.

The result is something almost banal, and yet utterly fascinating. Rather than dramatize, director Hany Abu-Asad shows the practical side of suicide bombing, reducing the revolutionary figments of our imagination to what they truly are -- just people, almost bureaucratic in their planning and supporting of the bombing. It humanizes the Palestinian terrorists, yes. That is not what makes this film so disturbing, rather it is the dispassionate way it shows a reality bleaker than the dreams of those who stay just far enough from the fray to spew their rhetoric.

In the character of Suha, the film makes its most overt reach for political comment. A Palestinian, but born in France and raised in Morocco, she becomes the love interest of one of the bombers. She objects to the suicide terrorism of her people, practically and theologically. It's a wrinkle, but it doesn't detract from the overpowering focus of the film on the banal realities. Hannah Arendt would be proud.

Everything isn't quite illuminated

2005-08-31T14:25:00.000-05:00

As a rule, literary adventures are not always easily translated to the silver screen. That's not to say a film is never as good as the book. In some respects, the limitations of film can make the story even better than its more sprawling literary counterpart. The key is in making the right decisions about what to cut, what to rework, where to add, and ultimately how the characters and plotline will be visualized on screen.

Do it right, and you'll have a good book adaptation, to say nothing of a great film. Do it wrong, however, and you end up with something else entirely. Most such films, as it turns out, fall somewhere between the gems and the gawdawfuls.

Such is the directorial debut of Liev Schreiber, a film adaptation of Jonathan Safran Foer's much-celebrated authorial debut, Everything is Illuminated. One wonders if an excellent book given even a mediocre film adaptation doesn't ultimately yield a good film, because that is exactly what we have here.

First things first; Schreiber deserves considerable credit for even attempting an adaptation of so oddly-structured a book. It revolves around the search of a fictional Foer who goes to the Ukraine in search of the woman who saved his grandfather from the Holocaust. With him is a highly amusing (and somewhat ignorant) translator and said translator's deranged grandfather (and dog -- let us not forget the dog). But in the novel, the story is told through letters from the translator to Foer interspersed with Foer writing about the history of his family's shtetl before the war. Just for the hell of it, the translator (a.k.a. Alex) proceeds to comment on Foer's history.

Wisely, Schreiber dumped pretty much everything except the central "rigid search" undertaken by Foer & Co. The problem is that's only so much of a story, so Schreiber's script ties in fragments of the book's greater depth towards the end. That's fine and good, so far as it goes, but for those who haven't read the novel it all comes off as little more than a twist ending (and a stretch at that). Some in the screening I attended were even a little confused about how everybody fit together.

Nevertheless, Everything is Illuminated remains a fine film. It is by no means a great film, probably not as good a movie as the book is a novel, but you shouldn't stay away. Schreiber's script is uneven (some critics made the same complaint about the book), but his directing of the actors is seemingly deft and the cinematography is downright literary in its fragile beauty. Add in Elijah Wood (who's as gifted a young actor as they come) and a brilliantly comedic portrayal of translator Alex by Eugene Hutz and you've got a recipe for good cinema.

Then, finally, there is the moral conclusion of the film. The lesson extrapolated by the woman Foer searches for, all embodied in a wedding ring, buried inside a glass jar by a young Jewish woman who knew her fate and faced it. I won't give it away, but I will say it is a distinctly Jewish lesson and it almost makes up for the confusing twist of narrative conclusions at the end.

>> For more on Everything is Illuminated, read AJL's profile on Liev Schreiber, exclusively in our latest issue.

Meet the rogue Jewish filmmakers behind Murderball

2005-08-02T09:32:00.000-05:00

With very little filmmaking experience under their belts, Dana Adam Shapiro and Henry Alex Rubin had a single dream: To start their own film production company. When they approached a potential investor with the idea, he shot back to the duo, "Why a whole company? Just make a film."

Well, they did exactly that. Murderball, their film about quadriplegic rugby players which hits theaters this month, was the winner of the Documentary Audience Award at the 2005 Sundance Film Festival. Not bad for their first foray into filmmaking.

Whether by car wreck, fist fight, gun shot, or rogue bacteria, the larger than life men featured in Murderball were forced to live life sitting down. In their own version of the full-contact sport, they smash the hell out of each other in custom-made gladiator-like wheelchairs. And no, they don't wear helmets.

From the gyms of middle America to the Olympic arena in Athens, Greece, Murderball tells the story of a group of world-class athletes unlike any ever shown on screen. In addition to smashing chairs, it will smash every stereotype you've ever had about "gimps" and "cripples." It is a film about family, revenge, honor, sex (yes, they can) and the triumph of love over loss. But most of all, it is a film about standing up, even after your spirit -- and your spine -- has been crushed.

"Once we started shooting, people in wheelchairs started to look different," says Shapiro. "And then everybody started to look different. You noticed things: finger function, trunk muscles, handicap parking signs. We wanted to make a movie that changed people's minds."

Fagin's facelift

2005-08-22T11:53:00.000-05:00

Roman Polanski delivers a moral lesson? That and more in his upcoming rendition of the classic tale Oliver Twist as the wretched old hook-nosed Jew Fagin (played by Ben Kingsley) gets a more inviting facelift.

Crash this wedding

2005-07-14T08:38:00.000-05:00

One is hard pressed to critique a flick like "Wedding Crashers." It's a genre that was never meant for the film critics, for it belongs entirely to the dudes and friends who seek the most harmless of juvenile entertainment to pass a weekend evening.

And so Messrs. Vaughn and Wilson deliver just that, though at a clip too long. The film itself is genuinely funny. The performances are genuinely inspired. Rachel McAdams and Isla Fisher are genuinely hot -- kudos to Ali G for snatching up Ms. Fisher for nuptials at a date to be determined.

Early sequences show the comedic duo preying on women at all sorts of weddings -- Jewish weddings, Catholic weddings -- I was waiting for a pagan wedding. Will Ferrell as mentor could do much to save his sinking film credibility. But what really take the movie over the top is the obvious comedic chemistry of Vaughn and the afforementioned Fisher.

As a group of friends, this movie is a winner. It's less a date flick. The copious nudity ends up detracting from the flick, adding time without adding much heft to the fun factor. But either way, it's worth a weekend evening.

Willy Wonka, meet Michael Jackson

2005-07-14T08:52:00.000-05:00

It should be noted up front that author Roald Dahl, famous the world over for his delightfully dark childrens books, was often accused of being an anti-Semite (and and anti-many other things as well). He once said of the Jews, "Even a stinker like Hitler didn't just pick on them for no reason."

Some have pointed to Dahl's screenplay for the film version of "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" and drawn comparisons between the huge nose and "Orthodox-style clothing and hat" of the Child-Catcher in the film. What a screenwriter adapting somebody else's book has to do with the costume design in a film is beyond me, and I suppose the best response I can come up with to such critics is, "Whatever."

Not that Dahl was a Jew-loving hoot of a guy. He wasn't, and he went to his grave with plenty vile to say about the People of the Book. But his rather repugnant viewpoints on Jews (and women -- we weren't exactly singled out) never found their way into his own writing. And his writing is delicious.

Now we have a second film adaptation of one of his most beloved stories, "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," and I can say that it's safe. There's no anti-Semitic canards tucked into the folds of this bit of cinema. Now, with any luck, we can get on to discussing the actual film.

Because there's plenty creepiness and disturbing stuff to discuss. Not that this is a bad film, but it must not be compared to the first and probably shouldn't be held up too harshly to the light of the original book. This is a Tim Burton film. This is Johnny Depp doing the closest thing to a Michael Jackson inspiration (sans the sex parts) I've seen.

Which is to say this film captures the darker tone of the book arguably better than the original film, but in so doing, it loses much of the dazzle and climactic magic of the first film. Sure it takes us into the backstory of Willy Wonka (none of which existed in the books), showing us just how messed up his childhood was -- and just why he's essentially a creepy hermit who shouldn't be let out into society.

But when you plunge down the river of Chocolate on Wonka's boat there should be some pretty frightening sights to behold. When you see the confections of Wonka's factory, there should be a little more unbelievable qualities to the proceedings. This film is all quite pedestrian.

Sure, it looks beautiful. It has Burton's distinct style and tone (sometimes a bit too much of his trademark set designs). Depp is a brilliant actor, and he does get Wonka across as creepy. And more than anything else, it'll be a fun couple of hours at the movies.

But too much has been left out or short changed to make this any more than less of a film than Gene Wilder's and less a telling of the story than the book. No everlasting Gobstoppers for all the kids. No final test for Charlie to prove he's got what it takes. No manipulations on Wonka's part -- he's just looking for the least obnoxious kid. Indeed, he's little more than an overgrown kid himself.

Go see it anyways, but then go and re-watch the original film. And when you're done with all of that, re-read the original book. Those aren't the least bit pedestrian.

Boteach on Batman

2005-06-20T09:30:00.000-05:00

Rabbi Shmuley Boteach on Batman Begins:

The movie Batman Begins offers surprisingly deep insights -- for a movie anyway -- into the issues of justice, revenge, and the hatred of evil. The focus of the first half of the film is how Bruce Wayne struggles with the murder of his parents in a mugging. Consumed with a desire for vengeance, Bruce eventually meets up with a secret society of mountain Ninja warriors dedicated to hating and fighting evil called 'The League of Shadows.' Although the overall intentions of the league are good -- their declared purpose is the eradication of every form of injustice and the liquidation of all murderers -- they ultimately end up the villains of the movie, as their hatred of evil so consumes them that they are prepared to destroy the good along with the bad in order to restore balance to society. One moment, the league is speaking eloquently of fighting criminals and protecting the innocent, and the very next moment they are demanding that Bruce execute a murderer who has yet to be tried and never allow himself to feel any kind of compassion for criminals. Compassion equals weakness, they tell him, and constitutes the principal reason that the world is so messed up.

This portrayal of those who preach a hatred for evil eventually going over to the dark side themselves has become par for the course and reflects a deep-seated cultural bias against the emotion of hatred in all its manifestations. Simply put, our society is one that has a big problem with hating evil, believing that those who hate -- even if its murderers and terrorists that they hate -- will inevitably be corrupted by their hatred. Hatred is always a bad thing, even when directed at the cruel, the wicked and the truly evil. But will society really muster the determination to fight evil if it doesn't hate it?

A few weeks ago, I was broadcasting my daily radio show when suddenly, mid-way through the first hour, the sentencing came in one of America's biggest murder cases. Mark Hacking, a Salt Lake City man who had killed his pregnant wife Laurie in cold blood by blowing her head off with a shotgun while she slept, was sentenced, under Utah state law, to six years to life in prison. Now while it was hardly likely that the parole officers who would finally decide how many years Mark Hacking would serve in prison would choose the minimum of six, I was still appalled that a man who shot his wife in the head while she slept could receive -- at least officially -- such a ludicrously minimal sentence. I railed against the sentence on the air. I said that Hacking's action was an abomination, and that a society dare not show leniency to a man who murdered his wife for fear of undermining the message that a woman's life is of infinite value. I declared my hatred for Mark Hacking on the air, how I detested and abhorred him. And that's when the phone calls started pouring in. Not when I thundered against the absurdly low sentence, but when I dared announce my hatred for a murderer.

Susie called in: "Rabbi, I am appalled that you would show so much hatred for Mark Hacking. I am a Christian and I was raised to love everyone, even those who had done evil things like murder their wives. We have to feel compassion for that man. We have to show him sympathy. This is his lowest point. So why are you being so cruel.

Me: Compassion for a murderer? Come on, Susie. Are you seriously telling me that you were taught to love a man who can blow his wife's head off in the most cowardly manner possible? You should be reserving all your love, Susie, all your compassion, for the victims of such violence, for the dead woman's relatives who now have to live without their daughter and sister for the rest of their lives. And where did you ever get the idea that you should love murderers?

Susie: From the Bible. From Jesus. From my Christianity.

Me: The Bible? Where in the world does the Bible command us to love evil?

Susie: Jesus said to love your enemies. To turn the other cheek when someone hurts you. That's what Christian love is all about.

Me: But you've completely misunderstood what Jesus said. His words are very precise. He said you ought to love your enemies, not God's enemies. Your enemies are the guys who steal your parking space at the multiplex. Your enemy is the woman who is angling for your job at the office. And Jesus was saying, "Overlook this kind of stuff. Don't let little things come between you and your fellow man. Turn the other cheek to that kind of thing. Don't make a mountain out of a molehill." But a man who kills his wife is not your enemy. He is God's enemy. And there was never any suggestion that you should turn the other cheek to that kind of heinous act. What did you think Jesus meant? That if a man kills your wife, overlook it and then let him kill your sister as well?

Susie: Well, I'm really worried about the kind of God you worship because it seems that He does a whole lot of hating.

Me: And I'm concerned about the kind of God that you worship, who seems morally blind and corrupt. After all, any God who can love murderers and embrace monsters is an unjust and morally corrupt God. And God is just.

Susie: I just think you're wrong preaching hatred on the radio when you should be teaching the world how to love. The whole problem with the world today is that there isn't enough love. That's why this world is so horribly screwed up.

Me: To the contrary, Susie. Precisely the opposite is true. The whole problem with the world is that there is too much love and not enough hate. We give people like Mark Hacking a pass. We are prepared to love monsters. We tolerate their evil. We think guys like Saddam Hussein ought to remain in power. If we truly hated these people with every fiber of our being, we would have stopped them long ago. But because we have too much love and acceptance in our hearts, too much false love directed at undeserving recipients, these monsters continue to flourish and evil continues to stalk the earth.

In my many years on radio I have had many callers like Linda and people who go way beyond Linda. I have especially been shocked by many evangelical Christian listeners, who for the most part are politically conservative, telling me that they love Osama bin Laden, that God commands us to love even the hardened, cold-blooded terrorist. "Jesus loves Osama bin Laden, Shmuley. So I do, too. That's the main difference between Jesus and the God of the Old Testament. Jesus was all about love, and he loves everybody, even monsters like Saddam Hussein."

I express my incredulity and tell them that they are slandering Jesus and making him sound morally bankrupt. I tell them that if Jesus loves Osama bin Laden then I don't want anything to do with Jesus. I want a God who hates Osama bin Laden because of the inhuman suffering he brought on so many innocent victims. Invariably, they then tell me my words are just further proof of how badly I need Jesus in my life. I have a closed heart that only Jesus can open.

This is what makes the issue of hatred so unique. It seems to be one of the only issues upon which both conservatives and liberals agree. They both hate the idea of hatred and believe it is always wrong to hate. Conservatives oppose hatred because so many of them are religious Christians and they base themselves on their understanding of the teachings of the New Testament, and liberals oppose hatred because they don't accept the existence of evil. Things are caused mostly by environmental factors. And if there is no such thing as evil, what is there to hate?

But it is my strong belief that the principal reason that murder, terror, and mayhem continue to grow like a cancer all over the world is that humankind has forgotten how to hate.

How many times have we heard that the problem with the world today is that there isn't enough love when precisely the opposite is true. Evil currently stalks the earth because we don't hate it enough to fight it and eradicate it. Even moral people, people with a solid commitment to ethics and religion, are afraid to hate because they think of hatred as a poison that will get into their system and ruin them. And their unwillingness to hate is making them indifferent to evil.

Oh, Lucas... save the best for last, you did

2005-05-10T13:08:00.000-05:00

I do love being pleasantly surprised. My expectations were low, I admit. George Lucas has given so much to the cinematic world, but he has also given us Jar Jar. He has brought us the blockbuster, but he has also brought us the dark side of that summer phenomenon in two heaping wrecks of pixelated ruination (that would be Episodes 1 and 2).

He is a man with a vision, but he can't direct actors to save his poor, bearded soul. He is fascinated by visual storytelling. He is inept at the more pedestrian methods like, say... dialogue. I loved what Lucas wrought, and I hated what Lucas wrought. More than anything, I missed what Lucas accomplished way back in 1977. I wasn't even born yet, but then neither were so many who grew up to adore that mythos of a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.

I am told of a time when moviemaking was drab. I am told of a time when cinema was dull. I am told of a time when studios ruled, actors slaved, and directors had no control after their reels made it back to the lots. It was a time, I hear, when Nixon had resigned and Carter was stripping the White House of its pomp and its circumstance. Elvis Presley had died. Pele had played his last game. Americans were down, and we wanted to believe again. We wanted to be captivated by something magical, let our cynicism reside just outside the theater doors where the harsh lights of the real world lay.

In the darkened confines of a cinema, amidst others who so longed for that sense of wonder, a flicker of light peeked from the back of the room and trumpets blared. That black room became a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. Perhaps the art was lessened that day. I doubt it. Lucas would go on to innovate so much that the power of filmmaking would finally be brought to the masses, but that's not what he did that day.

On that day, Lucas made the magic of moviemaking into a statement of truth, an evidence of fact painted onto the silver screen for all the world to marvel at. This was not pedestrian. This was film at the level of Olympus. Sadly, that day seems a long time ago, even a galaxy away -- far, far away.

This is because, some three decades later, we have come to a similar cross-road in the American zeitgeist. September 11 is a date we'll never forget. War rages in Iraq, terrorism plagues the world. In a time of progress at hyperspeed, when none of us seems capable of holding on to the world as it passes us by, it is time again for the quasi-Luddite who crafted a galaxy with nothing more than a No. 2 pencil.

So it is, with Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, that Lucas returns to us and gives us what we've so longed for. Like his creation Darth Vader, the man who seemed to have lost his touch has finally taken up the light again, slain the emperor of bad filmmaking, and rescued his offspring from oblivion. And Jar Jar doesn't even say a word.

Or something like that.

I don't want to spill too much grandeur in describing this film, but it's hard not to get worked up after being so let down by the first two prequels. We've maligned the man. We've maligned his work. We've begged him to, for the love of God or whatever Force you believe in, stop tinkering with his damned movies. But perhaps we'd be content if he'd just give us a good Star Wars film once more.

That's exactly what he's done. Don't misread my words. There's still the stilted lines of dialogue. Padme's pregnant cardboard cutout is particularly unsettling when wrapped around the tremendous acting talents of Natalie Portman (utterly wasted in these prequels). But where they are in Episode III, they are not the Death Star taking the entire film down with them. They are mere quibbles, reminders that this is still George Lucas, and he still can't direct actors or write brilliant dialogue.

But man can he make a movie, and in the end he can tell a story too. Episode III has the luxury of plenty of backstory and plenty of anticipation for what is inevitably to come, so it takes no time in dropping us directly into the action. The first 15 minutes or so is literally an extended action sequence, and it delivers. As Obi-Wan and his apprentice Anakin whirl through a fleet of enemy vessels and fighters, plenty of them exploding in close proximity, en route to save Chancellor Palpatine.

By the time the heroic Jedi land on Coruscant, and Anakin gets his tender moment with now-pregnant wife Padme, you don't even mind how poorly executed these tender moments are. It's a Lucas weakness the rest of the film more than makes up for. In short order, we're back to the epic drama of a concluding war, and with epic Lucasfilm drama comes epic Lucasfilm action.

Perhaps that would be enough to crown this a good film, perhaps the best action film out this year. What really wins the film over, making it easily the best since Empire Strikes Back, is how effectively it shows the totality of events. Nothing is more moving (including the forced chemistry between Padme and Anakin) than the depiction of Palpatine's rise to Emperor and the fall of the Jedi Order. When Anakin and Obi-Wan finally face off, McGregor shows off his acting chops and makes you believe he's in more pain than we could imagine. (As betrayal goes, Hayden Christensen sure wasn't going to make it truly believable.)

It's a testimony to Lucas's third prequel that it makes us feel the deaths and the betrayals of these characters. For two whole films he introduced them and made us care so little, that to save them from that fate and get an entire audience of critics to (I kid you not) cheer multiple times is a feat worth lauding.

And so it goes. Against all expectations and all previous attempts, Lucas has given us our magic back. He's made the Star Wars film we remember as children and missed as adults. Perhaps it won't wake us from our cultural stupor. Perhaps it won't give us a little more hope in a less hopeful world.

But as cinema goes, especially as blockbuster action epics that so often get made with little more than a hollow gloss, this let's us all say with more than a little bittersweet joy: Maybe they do make movies like they used to.
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Next week, a discussion of the commonalities between the Star Wars mythos and Jewish folklore, as well as the political undercurrents of the films.

A movie of two minds?

2005-05-03T13:57:00.000-05:00

Let it be said, the best thing written about "Kingdom of Heaven" is courtesy of Richard Corliss: "A movie of two minds is infinitely preferable to a movie with none."

Why is this the best that has been written on this epic of a film? Simply put, Ridley Scott's latest foray into the historical war flick has its flaws. In fact, it has more than its fair share of them.

Aside from the thin characters who shuffle onto the screen (and off again) with little in the way of believable motivation, there is the rushed unfolding of events that makes everything seem like you missed something on the cutting room floor. Aside from that, there is the ridiculous plot contrivances (thousands of years of settlement, lots of dustry environs, and a blacksmith crusader is the first one to think of digging a well), and aside from that there is the cumulative effect of all these flaws.

Because the film is so grand in scope, yet so rushed in its editting, we hardly have the time to get into the minds of the characters. That compounds the short attention given to their internal drives and motivations. The result? Cardboard cutouts all around, and where there is a third dimension we hardly have time to ponder it, and thus it ends up like a ghost we only thought we saw.

But of all the flaws, the greatest weakness of Scott's latesty foray into celluloid is his attempt to make the film overtly relevant to modern crises. I'm simply unable to comprehend a cast of characters fighting a holy war in the darkest decades of the Middle Ages spouting off about living in harmony with one another. And if Bloom's lead is really interested in saving the people of Jerusalem regardless of whether he keeps the city, why not simply surrender it to begin with? Oh yeah, then you wouldn't have a movie.

More than the out-of-place modern liberalism that dots so many of these ancient characters is Scott's attempt to portray the Muslims as noble and the bad, bad Christian warmongers as, well... bad, bad warmongers. I happen to share his politics, but I couldn't stay engaged with the film as I constantly recoiled at its grotesque simplifications and politically-correct hewing.

Nevertheless, I forgive "Kingdom of Heaven" its sins. Yes, it glosses over its sins. Yes, it tries to make us see the madness of dogmatic holy war -- listening Israeli-Palestinian aggitators, listening neo-con warmongers -- in the most ham-handed of ways. But it's just so damn pretty, and at least it's trying to be more than "XXX: State of the Union."

In other words, "A movie of two minds is infinitely preferable to a movie with none." This is a Ridley Scott film, after all. So expect absolutely beautiful imagery and stunning mastery of cinematic style. Expect an exquisite cast of actors who literally grace the screen. Expect a cinematic spectacle that's more than mere special effects magic. In short, expect a good film.

Just do not expect a great film. Do not expect "Gladiator," for this is not that film gem that jump started a host of pretenders. And no, I won't be the critic who calls this Ridley Scott's descent into that cast of pretenders, because this is a fine film. It's a film I recommend you go see.

Why? Because with its two minds, with its attempts (however ham-handed) to make you think as well as dazzle you, the audience will be made better. We will be wowed by the visuals, by the story (however improbable). And if we're paying any attention at all, we'll at least think about the political overtures of the film.

A classic it ain't. A Ridley Scott film it is, and that's enough -- more than enough.

When thrillers were thrilling

2005-04-26T15:00:00.000-05:00

I long for the day when thrillers actually got the hairs on the back of your neck into a forward and upright position. I long for the time when Sydney Pollack could deliver that cinematic experience. I so very much wanted such a movie experience when the lights dimmed for "The Interpreter."

I'm still waiting.

Don't get me wrong. It wasn't a bad film. It was a good film. The acting was good. The directing was superb. The realism was spot on. That was helped in large part from a carefully negotiated first -- the film was shot inside the actual UN -- and since the film itself is a bit of a snore by the end, I'll tell you about that instead.

As it turned out, the UN is very uptight about filming on their premises. Even Alfred Hitchcock was turned away, and initially so was Sydney Pollack. The production even went to the expense of building sets at a pretty penny. Sadly, they weren't working out, so it was up to Sydney to score a meeting with UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan himself. New York mayor Michael Bloomberg (a mensch he is) even coughed up some support in exchange for a deal to use an all New Yorker crew.

The UN finally caved, but shooting was allowed only at night and on weekends. This adds to the movie, I suppose. It's always possible that a regular set would've done just as well, but who knows?

Oh yeah, getting back to the movie. Ultimately it's a procedural drama with less drama and a rather forced bus bombing, and here's where I'll say the film was a missed opportunity. Imagine a film about the United Nations that features threats of trial for war crimes against a head of state, a bus bombing, and a biased internationalist. There's not an Israeli in sight.

I'm not saying the film should've been about Israel. The bus bombing was in New York, not Tel Aviv. But what I am saying is, why didn't this film tackle the subject matter rather than use it as a back drop? I think it's great they shot inside the real UN. Why didn't they tackle the controversies of the real UN?

When Kidman's character says she believes in the UN, the best the script can do is have Penn retort, "It must've been a tough year for you." Why not pit a staunch anti-UN against Kidman? Why not have a genuine exploration of the biases of UN staff and diplomats that colors their actions and undermines the ideals Kidman keeps spouting about? Instead we merely have Kidman's biases laid out bit-by-bit as a means to make Penn doubt her, and explain her rather odd end-of-film antics.

If you're going to make a movie about the UN, and you're going to shoot it in the actual building, then you've got an opportunity to do something brilliant with cinema that audiences will actually see. Sydney, what were you thinking?

And yes, it might have been more compelling to do such a substantive film if instead of inventing an entire African country and an entire African language (I suppose they didn't actually invent an entire language) they took the poster country for UN controversy and bias -- Israel.

But what do I know? It's got Nicole Kidman waxing poetic and Sean Penn looking forever distraught. There's even international intrigue. But don't expect a thick steak. This is more those bites of Mongolian beef on a toothpick offered by your local food court Chinese restaurant.

That's the best international reference I could come up with, and it's about on par with the best this film could do.

How an oceanographer ended up in the desert

2005-04-26T14:15:00.000-05:00

...or, how one movie insulted an entire genre.

Yes, I speak now of "Sahara." I'll admit up front that I didn't have high hopes going in. The trailer even bothered me, for I am a fan of the genre this movie trying to sneak in the back door of. I grew up on a steady diet of archaeology Indiana Jones style. I spent my Christmas Day 2004 munching Chinese food and, oh yes, seeing "National Treasure."

But what am I to make of a movie with Dirk Pitt as its leading character? Apparently, I can make two movies out of him (see 1980's debacle of a film and budgetary disaster "Raise the Titanic"), but why would I want to? In this stretch of the imagination we find oceanographic explorer Dirk getting dirty on the sands of the Sahara (yes, lots of water there). Why? Because against all notions of reality, a Civil War era ironclad managed to sail across the ocean and up a river deep into the desert before being buried when the water evaporated -- or something.

Mix in a despotic African dictator, a corrupt businessman, corporate pollution, lots of explosions and I suppose you've got yourself a blockbluster. Just in case you were concerned there wouldn't be enough action, feel confident in the plains, trains, and wind-propelled airplanes-turned-sand surfers. Did we mention there were lots of explosions.

And normally, I'd be the guy who'd give the film a pass. I've made this point before: we shouldn't judge movies by an unfair standard. If it's supposed to be a mindless action film, let it be. Eat your popcorn and then go home to read a nice thick book.

I can't do it. I'm sorry. This is an insult to the genre. It posseses none of the magic and charm that made Indiana Jones a piece of cinema lore. It has none of the clever humor and real chemistry that turned National Treasure into a romp of mirth and joy. It has little more than a checklist of action adventure cliches and mediocre characters.

Then it goes and tries for more, which is never a good idea. I gave up after they turned the wreck of an airplane half-buried in the sand into a sand-surfing contraption of epic stupidity.

I thought Jews controlled the media, but we've got to be smarter than this. No Jewish conspiracy could reach so low as to produce Dirk Pitt's Excellent Adventure. For that, I suppose I'll give it a couple of stars, but not one twinkle more.

Oh the horror?

2005-04-15T13:28:00.000-05:00

I long ago came to terms with the fact that not all movies are created equal, and I'm not talking about talent or budget or even the marquee status of the actors. Rather, I speak of intention. Some films were made to be Oscar winners. Others were purposely crafted to cash in at the box office, while still others were made to be... you know, good. Each film should be judged on the merits of its category, I suppose.

All of which is why I won't call "The Amityville Horror" a bad movie. There are plenty of other critics out there willing to take their swipes with the critical ax. The Associated Press' David Germain and Salon.com's Stephanie Zacharek are particularly brutal.

This remake of a fairly mediocre 1979 horror film is clearly designed to be a box office draw, and in the pantheon of horror flicks this one is designed to scare your girlfriend into your lap. On the first count, this film will probably be a success -- with an estimated $18 million budget, it will probably turn a profit in theaters, and will certainly turn one on DVD.

On the second count, yes it'll probably succeed too. It has to, given the copious use of horror flick cliche. Ghastly figures showing up just around the darkened corner accompanied by sharp bang noise, for example, are the most common tool. It's not exactly McG, but the MTV-influenced editing helps out in jolting the audience. That's not surprising, given the director's roots in commercials and music videos.

For the average movie-going couple, this is probably enough. For the horror aficionados, the poor dialogue, middling acting and plodding plot points (just kill the dog already, you've telegraphed it on a Times Square billboard) will surely offend. It can't, however, be as offensive as other excuses for a horror film that have found their way to the silver screen in recent years. In the end, for both sets of audiences, it'll be forgotten in a month (probably less).

And in the end, is it worth damning a film whose worst crime is that it's merely forgettable, not nearly as good as any other horror remake we've been suckered into over the past couple years but not nearly as bad as a Jennifer Love Hewitt slasher vehicle?

Yes, if you're asking the film to be more than it's trying to be. Sure, we'd all be better off if Hollywood could get back to making good films first, even good blockbusters. But ask yourselves honestly. How much revisionist history have we been spoon fed to believe Hollywood was ever in the business of making good films rather than profitable ones? The art is tied up in the talent of those involved, and is something of a happy accident in any event. To fight the battle for a utopian film industry where art is revered above glitz, glamour, and whatever gets your $18 million dollars back on opening weekend is hardly worth the time.

It's certainly not worth the Pavlovian froth of the critics who constantly lambaste these films simply because their publication requires them to see them.

If you're looking to scare your date into your lap, then go see this film and whichever one will inevitable replace it in a few weeks. For the rest of us, forget about. Whether you see it or not, you'll forget about it anyways. So don't go see it, save yourself some money, and send it to me and all the other critics so offended by "The Amityville Horror" (including the original).

It just might take the edge off our candor.

The redefinition of sin

2005-03-30T16:11:00.000-05:00

I can already hear the critics kvetching. If depravity ever abounded in a film, it abounds in this one. If moral decay was ever so colorful (or not-so-colorfully as it were) put on display, it was rendered in silver screen glory here. Sin City, if ever there was an aptly named film, these critics will lament.

Bollocks.

These people have clearly never seen Ichi the Killer, and if they had, they complaints matter not in any event. There are dark places in the human experience, and they deserve to be plastered on screen as much as the next rose-tinted view of pleasant days and nostalgic vistas. And boy, do they get plastered all over this piece of celluloid.

Yes, there is a male member being torn off -- literally -- on screen. Of course, plenty of blood is splattered and sprayed, all of it in multiple colors. There's even the cannibal serial killer of prostitutes who eats off a girl's hand while she watches (you don't actually see the act). But that's nothing next to the massively powerful Catholic priest who joins in with he of the woman-eating fetish.

Are you sick to your stomach yet? Though the depictions of violence I've just described (and more) is given a thoroughly cartoonish rendering, slightly eschewing the graphic nature, the subject matter remains disturbing. In short, I can't really blame you.

So while it may be easy to write Sin City off as pure ultra-violent fantasy, more evidence of the moral rot in our social apple core, it would be a disservice to do so. The film is born and bred of the darkest of human reflections, but it says something that the reflection breeds some of the most tragic noble heroes this side of a Homerian epic.

Bruce Willis' John Hartigan, for example, isn't particularly sinful. He is, perhaps, the most saintly of the cast. You'll have to forgive him his vengeful murders; they were designed to stop a pedophilic serial killer from hurting anybody else. But even the more despicable ruffians who populate this fictional city of sin are fascinating less for their sins than for their redemptions.

As a matter of course, everybody is violent on some level. In fact, it is violence that is seen in an entirely neutral light. It is the sexual depravity and the abuse of women that marks the bad guys as truly bad, and if you couldn't notice that distinction the characters go out of their way to remind us that the good guys are out to save the women from being hurt. The heroes are killers. The villains are worse, and how's that for a social commentary on the morality of force to achieve a just end, to say nothing of feminism?

No, I suppose I can't convince you that this film is deep social commentary. I won't even try, but I will say it is extremely well executed visual masterpiece theatre, and for two hours there's only so much you can ask for from a commercial action flick courtesy of the bad boys at Dimension.

So yes, it was a good film -- castrated yellow villains and all. But just wait for the critics. Just wait for the naysayers. You'll likely hear a great deal from them, or maybe you won't. Maybe we'll all be lucky. Maybe it'll seem too ultraviolent in the first place. Maybe they'll stay away, and having not seen the film, keep their mouths shut.

Or maybe not.