“The Accountant” is an entertaining film, but it could have been much more. It’s about a math whiz who has autism and has turned into some sort of “super spy CPA” type who cooks the books and then kills the bad guys. My best take on it is that star Ben Affleck was jealous of his buddy Matt Damon’s two most pivotal roles, Jason Bourne and Will Hunting, and decided to combine them into one movie.
The result is part character study, part romance, and a lot spy action that gradually devolves into more or a less comedy, with our hero offing villains and then tossing off quips. It doesn’t really all fit together, but there are some nice pieces to the equation.
Christian Wolff was a kid whose genius and social disability were both plain to see. Raised by a stern military dad and beset with tragedy, he’s turned into this mystery figure who runs a one-man accounting shop in a crummy strip mall, doing taxes for working class folks. On the side, though, he runs the numbers for all sorts of international bad guys, from the mafia to drug cartels.
On the hunt is Treasury agent Ray King (J.K. Simmons), who wants to bust the legendary shadow man before he’s forced to hang up his badge in a few months. Jeffrey Tambor plays another father figure, who schooled Christian on accounting while they were in prison together.
Providing the cute-n-spunky ingredient is Anna Kendrick as Dana, a junior accountant at a company that makes robotic limbs. She thinks she’s uncovered some malfeasance the CEO (John Lithgow) doesn’t know about, so Christian is brought in to work his magic. Soon the young CPAs are auditing each other’s bedsheets.
From there, things get weirder and weirder, with black ops types showing up (Jon Bernthal among them) to make dark threats and stage the deaths of minor characters. Director Gavin O’Connor and screenwriter Bill Dubuque let things slide further and further afield from the somber first half, until the movie virtually becomes a laugh riot -- sometimes intentional, sometimes not.
“The Accountant” isn’t a bad movie, it just forgets itself. In trying too hard to be both Jason and Will, Christian wanders into absurdity. It’s an entertaining train wreck, but still a mess.
Bonus features are so-so, and are limited to three making-of documentary shorts: “Inside the Man,” “Behavior Science” and “The Accountant in Action.”
There’s a lot of things to like about “The Accountant,” but tonally the film is a sloppy, gloppy mess.
It starts out as a serious character examination of a high-functioning autistic man played by Ben Affleck who works as an accountant for some very bad people -- terrorists, drug cartels, repressive regimes, etc. Then he quickly morphs into a Jason Bourne-like character who can bullseye people a mile away and chop-socky them to death up close.
It begins on a very somber note, and by the end has more or less turned into a full-out action/comedy. Somewhere in here is a romance that gets dropped down a well, and a redemptive tale of a shiftless bureaucrat who found his calling late in life.
Director Gavin O’Connor (“Warrior”) and script man Bill Dubuque gather an interesting cast of characters and story elements, but can’t assemble them into a coherent piece. Still, if you look at it purely as popcorn entertainment, there’s a lot of assets in the ledger.
The story opens with Christian Wolff as a kid (played by Seth Lee), prone to fits and cut off from the rest of the world. But he’s got brilliance beneath the behavior, as evidenced by his ability to put together a huge puzzle in minutes -- with the picture facing upside down -- while waiting to talk to a therapist. His father (Robert C. Treveiler) is a stern Army man, and gives him a brutal upbringing of tough love and combat training so he can survive.
“You’re different. Sooner or later, different scares people,” Dad instructs.
Now in his late 30s or so, Christian is a CPA with a dingy one-man practice, ZZZ Accounting, south of Chicago. Affleck does a wonderful bit of technical acting, showing us all of his quirks and obsessions. He blows on his fingers before starting a new task, and becomes distracted to the point of conniption if interrupted before he’s finished.
He does tax returns and such for farmers and the small storefronts around his in the strip mall. But on the side he takes high-dollar gigs from disreputable types, finding out who’s been skimming in operations like the drug lords who, as one law enforcement type puts it, “count their money by weighing semis full of cash.”
That LEO is Ray King (J.K. Simmons), a legendary Treasury agent with lots of huge busts to his name. He’s got a few months until forced retirement, and is determined to spend that time tracking down this ghost accountant. He recruits a young analyst with a troublesome past (Cynthia Addai-Robinson) as his paladin. She learns about a troubled young man who was in and out of institutions, including a federal prison stint where he learned at the knee of an elderly mafia numbers man (Jeffrey Tambor).
Now Christian has been recruited to check out a prominent firm that makes robotic limbs for amputees, led by a visionary leader (John Lithgow) who’s not so good with numbers. There Christian meets Dana, an adorably dorky company accountant who first found the discrepancy. They negotiate a delicate little dance, with her trying to figure out this puzzle of a man and him trying to break through decades of imposed discipline.
(Beautiful, smart and vibrant women are often attracted to awkward, socially clumsy men in the movies – which, completely coincidentally, tend to be written by awkward, socially clumsy men.)
Things go bad when a team of assassins (led by Jon Bernthal) come after Dana and Christian. He quickly makes short work of them, and the pair are in the wind.
Things are more or less fine to this point, but then the film keeps tipping over into unexpectedly funny moments that break the mood. Some are obviously intentional, such as Affleck’s affectless responses to Kendrick’s emotional outbursts. But the compounding effect is to undermine the tense atmosphere the movie has worked so hard for.
The plotting is rather obvious -- if you can’t figure out who’s the person pushing all the buttons, or the nature of the third act’s “big surprise” a long way off, you haven’t been paying much attention.
If “The Accountant” had just presented itself as a straightforward action/drama -- “Superspy CPA” -- then we could just sit back and enjoy it for its own sake. By seeking higher ground, and then settling for cheaper thrills, it’s only marginally worth an investment.
“The Meddler” is one of those little indie movies that are perfect for video. They tend not to get released in smaller cities, and even then it can be a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it run at the one art cinema in town. A delightful comedy with some hefty messages underneath the laughs, it treats its characters as realistic people who might exist in the world with their own peculiar virtues and faults.
The foibles of Marnie (Susan Sarandon) are pretty evident. A wealthy widow from Jersey without a lot to do, she moves out to Los Angeles to be near her daughter (Rose Byrne), a successful television writer who’s unlucky in love. Marnie is a born smotherer who repeatedly crosses boundaries -- dropping hints about grandchildren, etc. Soon enough the kid has (gently) elbowed Marnie out of the picture.
But, in her own passive-aggressive way, Marnie is unstoppable. Soon she’s co-opted her daughter’s circle of friends into becoming her own, lavishing one with an expensive wedding party. She keeps dropping by the Apple store to buy more overpriced junk she doesn’t need, and soon she’s driving a young worker there to college classes she encouraged him to take.
Marnie is a true giver -- even when the recipient can’t take anymore.
She strikes up a halting romance with Zipper, a twangy cop/farmer played with a twinkle by J.K. Simmons. He spots her on the set of a movie where he’s working security -- Marnie just walked by one day and became an extra -- and pitches some woo. Marnie, long used to being the interloper in other people’s lives instead of the one who gets loped, isn’t quite sure what to make of the creased Casanova at first.
Written and directed by Lorene Scafaria, “The Meddler” is a movie that doesn’t have a lot of story to it. It’s just people intersecting, rubbing off each other, finding connections that weren’t there before. The movie takes a woman who at first seems ridiculous and even a little pathetic and lets us see her intricate humanity. It’s funny, and enlightening.
Bonus features are good, and are the same for DVD and Blu-ray editions.
There is a gag reel and two featurettes: “The ‘Real’ Marnie” and “The Making of The Meddler.” The centerpiece is a feature-length commentary track with both Scafaria and Sarandon. I really enjoy it when the filmmakers and stars participate in these together, so it’s more of a dialogue than one person droning on.
“Zootopia” belongs in that midrange of Disney animated flicks, good enough to entertain youngsters but without enough originality or appeal to keep parents engaged 100 percent of the time. On video it’s less the sort of thing where the whole family curls up on the couch to watch it, and more something you pop into the player, hand the kids a bowl of popcorn and go do something else.
Similar to last year’s “The Good Dinosaur,” this is an alternate Earth where critters evolved into the dominant species (here, humans don’t even exist). Ginnifer Goodwin lends her voice to Judy Hopps, an ambitious rabbit from the country who dreams of making it in the big city as a police officer.
But when she arrives, Judy finds that Zootopia isn’t quite the colorful utopia it seems, despite its otherwise amazing qualities. The critters tend to divide themselves up, with the smaller ones like herself as followers and the big, powerful beasts – lions, bears, tigers, rhinos, elephants, etc. – holding all the positions of power. The grumpy police chief (Idris Elba) isn’t too crazy about handing a hare a badge.
She bumps into Nick, a shady fox on the make voiced by Jason Bateman. In exchange for not busting him on his illicit frozen popsicle caper, Judy enlists Nick in helping her run down the mystery of why some former predators seem to be reverting to their animalistic ways.
(Though the different species don’t hunt each other anymore, the exact nature of the food chain remains rather ambiguous.)
“Zootopia” is a message movie where the message sometimes smothers the film’s entertainment value. It’s all about striving to be more than you are, and not judging others by their superficial qualities. I just wish the movie could’ve summoned up a little more ambition itself.
Bonus features are pretty expansive. There are seven deleted scenes; the “Try Everything” music video by Shakira; “Scoretopia,” a featurette on Michael Giacchino’s music; an introduction of deleted characters; “Z.P.D. Forensic Files,” a compendium of all the movie’s hidden Easter Eggs; a travelogue with filmmakers researching animals in the wild and at Disney Animal Kingdom; a making-of documentary featurette; and roundtable interviews with the cast and crew hosted by Goodwin.
"The Meddler" is a movie without a lot of big moves, but it spins joyfully in its own little circle.
Susan Sarandon plays Marnie, a Jersey widow who moves out to Los Angeles so she can smother her daughter with kindness. The daughter, Lori (Rose Byrne), pushes her away at every turn, so Marnie continually seeks out other venues in which to insert herself in other people's lives.
That's pretty much the entire story. It may not sound like enough for an entire movie, but writer/director Lorene Scafaria ("Seeking a Friend for the End of the World") and Sarandon give us a wonderful character study with a lot of heart and a little wisdom, too.
This is one of those deals where you just enjoy spending time with these characters, and that's enough.
Sarandon tries on an agreeable Brooklyn honk (though it has a tendency to fade a bit from time to time) as she narrates Marnie's story, told largely through a series of long -- and unreturned -- voice messages she leaves for Lori. It's mostly rote checking-in kinda stuff, here's what I'm up to, hope things are going well with you, etc.
But Marnie unwittingly slips in constant little digs that tear at Lori's fragile psyche. She's a successful writer who's got a new TV show lined up, but recently broke up with her boyfriend (Jason Ritter) who's also a big action movie star. She's getting on in years, cherishes her independence but also quietly pines for children, and Marnie is there to pick-pick-pick at all her insecurities.
A mother's love is boundless -- which is another way of saying it's ceaseless.
Marnie is an interesting gal. She's not exactly dim, but she's not very self-reflective and instinctively crosses over borders. Years of being told she's doing so by Lori only enables her to acknowledge that she's crosses boundaries while she's doing it.
Her husband, Joe, left her a big pile of money so she doesn't have to work. There are a lot of hours in the day, and Marnie tries a bunch of things to fill them up. She starts volunteering at the hospital (without actually signing up to do so), walks into a movie set and becomes a regular extra, befriends the young Genius at the Apple store (Jerrod Carmichael) and soon is driving him around to the college classes she encouraged him to take.
That doesn't begin to mention how she inserts herself into Lori's circle of girlfriends -- Lucy Punch, Cecily Strong, Sarah Baker, Casey Wilson -- showing up at a baby shower as a +1, without the 1. Soon she's planning an extravagant post-wedding party for one of them costing tens of thousands of dollars, out of her own pocket. Marnie basks in this attention, even if it is a faux substitute for the mother/daughter relationship she craves.
Heck, Marnie even signs up for sessions with Lori's therapist (Amy Landecker) just so she can talk about her daughter, since the real thing doesn't want to.
The funny thing is, for all her brazen feats of meddling, Marnie can be quite shy and retiring when others pull the same move on her. She's clearly intimidated by her late husband's family back East, a gregarious clan of Italians. And when a nicely creased older cop shows her some romantic attention, she demurs at first.
Zipper -- his real name, btw -- is played by J.K. Simmons, who just oozes rustic charm and magnetism. He's a lonely divorced guy who lives in the rural outskirts of L.A., playing Dolly Parton music for his chickens and lamenting his distant relations with his daughters. Marnie's drawn to him, but she's so used to being the interloper, she's a bit confused when someone intrudes into her sphere.
I really enjoyed this movie. It doesn't feel like it's trying to push any big revelations on you or impress you with an intricate storyline. It's just people, bumping into each other and interacting. Sometimes their flaws rub each other the wrong way, and sometimes a weakness is beheld as a strength by others.
Mostly "The Meddler" is a showcase for Susan Sarandon, who's usually known for playing such strong women. Marnie is too, but in a different way. Her yearning never really goes away, but starts out as desperation and turns into something more positive. It's like watching someone drowning, and then their frantic flailing becomes a calm, sustaining stroke.
A middle-shelf offering from the Disney animation empire, "Zootopia" is a message movie in which the message sometimes overpowers the film's entertainment value. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but these 'toons are primarily viewed as fodder for families with small children -- and mine, 2 and 5, got a mite restless during the middle.
They still enjoyed it, though parents might like this one more than their kids will.
Ginnifer Goodwin voices Judy Hopps, a chirpy go-getter from the sticks who dreams of becoming a police officer in the big burg of Zootopia. Only one problem: she's a cute little bunny in a world largely ruled by big critters. Most rabbits, like her Ma and Pa (Bonnie Hunt, Don Lake) are relegated to boring farm work. Of course, she doesn't listen and strives to become more than she is.
If the movie's major theme weren't obvious enough, the song lyrics clue us in: "Where You Can Be Anything," "Try Everything," etc. Shakira does the voice of ruling pop star Gazelle.
In this alternate-reality universe, the animals kept evolving into upright talkers who set aside their bestial ways. (Unlike last year's similarly set up "The Good Dinosaurs," humans are nowhere in sight at all.)
But there are still some unspoken divisions, mostly between former predators and their prey. Lions, tigers, wolves and the like tend to be in positions of power, like the Mayor (J.K. Simmons), Leodore Lionheart. Nobody actually eats anyone anymore -- their exact food sources are left a little vague -- but even among the former prey, the bigger, tougher animals (elephants, rhino, rams) tend to get their way.
Zootopia is a colorful, visually astounding place, split up into different habitats and even temperature zones. Given the large degree in size variation among the denizens, there are all sorts of accommodations. Judy, used to being the teeniest mammal around, is suddenly transformed into a colossus when she chases a thief into the Rodentville neighborhood.
Judy's boundless enthusiasm is dashed when the surly police chief, a growling buffalo named Bogo (Idris Elba), assigns her to write parking tickets. She also has a run-in with Nick Wilde, a sly fox voiced by Jason Bateman. He's running a nice scam where he buys massive frozen pops from the elephant store, melts them down and freezes them into tiny confections he sells to the gerbil-folk at markup.
As you can see, Zootopia is a seemingly wonderful place with lots of problems underneath. The creatures tend to assign themselves roles based on stereotypes. So cynical Nick, always written off as the tricksy troublemaker, finally decided to play along.
The main storyline is something of a red herring, about predators suddenly turning savage again. Judy is given 48 hours to run down a missing otter, and hustles Nick into helping her in return for not busting him for his quasi-legal shenanigans. Various shifts occur in the relationship, from antagonism to cooperation to friendship to betrayal to... well, you'll see. Jared Bush and Phil Johnson wrote the (not terribly) original screenplay.
"Zootopia" is directed by Byron Howard and Rich Moore, both Disney veterans who've directed solid features before. Moore and Johnston previously worked together on "Wreck It Ralph," and I'd put this film in the same category quality-wise. Some of the throwaway jokes are real gems, such as an unexpected crime boss who's pure Vito Corleone -- micro-sized.
I appreciated the theme of following our better instincts. "Fear always works," the villain intones -- an ominous warning that can be seen reflected in much of our public discourse these days. It's a noble sentiment, pounded perhaps a bit too hard.
I was not a fan of “Kung Fu Panda 2.” It seemed like an indulgent sequel made for the sake of having a sequel (not to mention critic-proof box office $$$). I enjoyed being able to brag that I’d never walked out of a movie or fallen asleep during one; after “Panda 2,” I could no longer assert the latter.
So I’m happy to report “Kung Fu Panda 3” is a return to joyous form. Perhaps because it’s been nearly five years since the last one, the filmmakers took a little time to figure out what they wanted to do on a third go-round. Here Po (Jack Black), the tubby bear who became the unlikely choice to hold the mantle of the mighty and beneficent Dragon Warrior, gets to rediscover his roots and find his true inner panda.
If you’ll recall (I didn’t), at the end of “2” we see an older panda in a remote mountain village having a transcendent moment: “My son is alive!” Now the old man turns up in Po’s village looking for him, voiced agreeably by Bryan Cranston. Of course, because these movies are comedies first, the two don’t recognize each other -- despite being the only pandas around.
Needless to say, the reunion gets happier from there. Though not for Po’s goose adoptive dad (emotively voiced by James Hong), who feels threatened by a competing paternal figure. Especially when Po decamps to the hidden panda village to learn the secret of controlling his ch’i.
That’s the Chinese word for the energy source for all living things, which according to legend the pandas used to heal the sick and wounded -- in between downing mountains of food. (Think “The Force,” but with dumplings.)
They need a master of ch’i because there’s a new baddie on the horizon: Kai, a power-mad bull who was banished to the spirit realm 500 years ago by Oogway (Randall Duk Kim), the turtle kung fu master who first anointed Po. Snortingly voiced by J.K. Simmons, Kai has found a way back to the mortal world by stealing the ch’i of Oogway and the other masters.
Other familiar characters return, notably the Ferocious Five (now simply called The Five): stern Tigress (Angelina Jolie), wisecracking Mantis (Seth Rogen), as well as Viper (Lucy Liu), Monkey (Jackie Chan) and Crane (David Cross), whose personalities sort of get pushed to the sides. Wise-but-crotchety Master Shifu (Dustin Hoffman) and his pupils try to make a stand against Kai, but like the others get their spirit absorbed by him and turned into jade zombies, which Po quickly dubs “jombies.”
Directed by Jennifer Yuh and Alessandro Carloni from a screenplay by Jonathan Aibel and Glenn Berger – who have been script men for all three films -- “Kung Fu Panda 3” has the same nice mix of martial arts action, humor and tugging emotions as the first movie.
For instance, one of the running jokes is that Kai announces himself wherever he goes as this infamous world-conquering destroyer, but nobody’s ever heard of him. And, of course, there are plenty of bits about Po’s fellow pandas being self-indulgent feasters and slackers -- they prefer rolling down hills to walking.
When Po sees even the little pandas putting away the grub he quips, “I’ve always felt like I wasn’t eating up to my full potential.”
This is one of those animated flicks intended for kids but with enough cleverness and little flourishes to keep the adults fully engaged, too.
I had high hopes for "Terminator Genisys," but then I had similar aspirations for the previous Terminator flick... and the one before that, and the short-lived TV show.
Perhaps it's time to finally admit to ourselves that the last worthy iteration of the iconic sci-fi franchise came a quarter-century ago, and the chances of another good one happening are roughly the same as Arnold Schwarzenegger taking up professional bodybuilding again and winning Mr. Universe 2023.
It is indeed a thrill to see Arnie playing the infamously monotone android again, with a little help from CGI to portray his younger self in the flashback scenes. It's mostly a tongue-in-cheek, winking nod to the first films, repeating familiar quips and making puckish references to his age.
The notion here is that a friendly Terminator was sent back in time to protect Sarah Connor (Emilia Clarke) when she was still a child, so she's grown up into a badass warrior and he's become an older, wiser mentor.
The story is a confusing retcon of Terminator lore, with Sarah and human protector Kyle Reese (Jai Courtney) jumping through time portals hither and thither in a bid to shut down Skynet and prevent the robot apocalypse.
Aside from a handful of nifty action scenes and the nostalgia of seeing Schwarzenegger as a strutting cyborg again, "Terminator Genisys" was better left in the dustbin of the past.
Bonus material is rather skimpy, and what there is comes on the Blu-ray edition. The DVD version has none.
There are three making-of featurettes: "Family Dynamics," "Infiltration and Termination" and "Upgrades: VFX of Terminator Genisys." They focus on the cast, shooting locations and visual effects, respectively.
Here's a surefire hint on gauging Terminator movies: Was it directed by James Cameron? If not, then it's not worth your time.
"Terminator: Genisys" takes us back to the roots of the iconic killer-robots-from-the-future franchise, and then proceeds to trample all over those roots. It removes all the paranoid dread of the first two movies along with every drop of emotional punch, and replaces them with a loopy retcon narrative that feels pulled straight out of a cheap comic book spinoff.
Suddenly, Sarah Connor and Kyle Reese are jumping through time portals willy-nilly, and are soon joined by their son John Connor, who becomes the future leader of the resistance against the tyranny of machines trying to crush out human existence. Different timelines with different alternate realities run up against each other, and yet somehow the characters have knowledge about the different iterations and use it to their advantage.
At one point they actually get into a testy argument about where they should go next. 1997? 2017? Who's on first?
You could lay out the plot of this movie on one of those big cork boards like you see cinematic detectives using to puzzle out a complex criminal case, with little notes and photographs linking up the different elements, and you still couldn't make sense of it all. Alan Taylor directs, from a screenplay by Laeta Kalogridis and Patrick Lussier.
At times it nearly turns into a full-on spoof, with Sarah and Kyle (Emilia Clarke and Jai Courtney, respectively) bickering like it's a schmaltzy romantic comedy, and classic lines from the first two flicks bantered around back and forth for cheap effect -- "Nice to see you," "I'll be back," etc.
The early going includes exact reenactments of shots from the 1984 sci-fi classic, with similar-looking actors playing the alley bum, the garbage truck driver, and the trio of punk rock hoodlums.
Except, of course, the Terminator himself, who you might have heard is again played by Arnold Schwarzenegger. He gets plenty of help from body doubles and CGI trickery to portray himself as a youngster again in 1984, but reverts to something close to his actual age when the action jumps into the future.
Why would a cyborg get old, you ask? Well, since it's real human tissue surrounding a mean metal skeleton, it ages exactly as a person would. This is all patiently explained for us by various characters, of course, who often seem like they're talking past each other to address expected confusion from the audience.
It's undeniably a hoot to see Arnie back in Terminator mode, speaking monotone and trying to puzzle out human emotions while laying down the badassery. You've probably guessed that he's playing the good guy again in this one, protecting the Connors rather than trying to eliminate them.
If you'll recall, one human and Terminator were sent back to 1984 to protect and kill Sarah, then we learned another pair of antagonists went to 1994 for John as a boy. Now we're told yet another good Terminator showed up in 1973, when Sarah's parents were killed.
Her cyborg savior, whom she dubbed Pops, became her protector/parent figure. Fast forward to the future, and they've got a crotchety Sanford & Son thing going on. In this altered timeline, she's no longer the wilting wallflower when Reese shows up, but a tuned-up leader.
We also get to see a new iteration of the T-1000, the super-advanced Terminator made of liquid metal who can take on various shapes and impersonate humans. And an even newer model, who has the amazing power to... well, wait and see.
There's plenty of good action scenes, and if there's a reason to buy a ticket for this movie, that's it. There are a couple of nifty chases, including one on helicopters and aboard a bus, but the best stuff is saved for when the Terminators go to town on each other. Pops shows he's still got the stuff, despite some parts that aren't functioning quite like they used to. "I'm old, not obsolete," he insists.
J.K. Simmons, fresh off an Oscar win, seems ill-used here as a broken-down cop with a personal connection to the Terminator saga. It's one of those roles that should've been built way up or dumped entirely. Courtney B. Vance plays inventor Miles Dyson, whom you'll recall everyone was trying to kill at one point in these movies, and Dayo Okeniyi plays his son, now grown up.
If you're wondering about the title, it refers to some amazing new software that's about to be launched to link up every computer and device on the planet, but is really nasty ol' Skynet in disguise.
After two great Terminator movies and a pair of lackluster ones, I was really hoping to see something fresh that married the energy of the original films with the high-tech trickery of modern moviemaking. Instead we got something old, a bit of something new, a whole bunch of borrowed quips, and that's left me feeling blue.
As I’m writing this, the Academy Awards ceremony has not yet happened, but by the time you’re reading it J.K. Simmons will mostly likely have claimed the Oscar for best supporting actor. He deserves it. Possibly writer/director Damien Chazelle has picked up his own golden statuette for adapted screenplay, based on his own short film. Again, highly warranted.
“Whiplash” was the best film of 2014, the harrowing tale of a promising young musician and the conductor who both inspires and degrades him. It’s the sort of movie that sticks in your craw, needling your soul long after you’ve seen it.
Miles Teller plays Andrew Neyman, an understudy drummer at the country’s finest music conservatory. He’s thrilled when the powerful head conductor chooses him to play in the top jazz band. But Lawrence Fletcher (Simmons) commences a cycle of abuse and psychological torture against the young prodigy.
He screams, he spits, he throws things – even slaps the boy around in the name of keeping proper time. Then, when Andrew starts to crumble under this tidal wave of intimidation, Fletcher mocks him as “one of those single-tear people.”
He does this, Fletcher says, to make Andrew a better musician. And there’s no denying the lad pushes himself to the limits of his ability as a result. But as he comes to resemble his tormentor more and more, we’re forced to ask ourselves what the price of ambition is.
“Whiplash” is a searing character study that raises challenging questions we’d maybe rather not ask ourselves.
Video extras are excellent. The DVD contains a feature length commentary track featuring Chazelle and Simmons – I always feel these are best when at least some of the principle actors are involved. There’s also an interview feature from the Toronto International Film Festival featuring both men plus Teller.
The Blu-ray version also has a deleted scene with commentary, interviews with famous drummers discussing their craft, as well as Chazelle’s original short film with commentary.
“Whiplash” is ostensibly about music, but actually it’s an expedition into human depravity -- and greatness.
Andrew Neyman is a 19-year-old drumming prodigy who gets tapped by a brilliant, domineering conductor to be lead stick man for the top jazz band at the world’s best music conservatory, then is subjected to a barrage of abuse and sadism that is not to be believed. The film is the tale of their relationship: student and teacher, victim and bully, innocent and despoiler.
We loathe the teacher, of course, but then watch with a combination of fascination and revulsion as Andrew absorbs the man’s foulness and starts to become a reflection of him. This amazing film, written and directed by Damien Chazelle, dares to ask prickly questions about what it takes to be a great artist, or a great anything.
Do suffering and accomplishment necessarily go hand-in-hand? Should people of exceptional talent and drive worry about being a good person? If you are the best there is at something, does that excuse being a colossal jerk? Can you reach the pinnacle of a career without stepping on others?
These are the sorts of things we ask ourselves in the blackest night, and tremble at the answers.
How bad is Lawrence Fletcher? Imagine the nastiest teacher you ever had, multiple it by 1,000, heap in a mountain of personal vindictiveness, pettiness, egomania and cruelty, and you would still not be close to reaching the horror of the conductor of the Studio Band at the fictional Shaffer Conservatory of Music in New York City.
Fletcher rules the jazz program like a tyrant. Students and even other instructors bow their heads and fall silent when he strides into a practice room, spewing expletives and belittling judgment. Andrew, a freshman languishing as the alternate drummer in the second-tier band, is surprised and thrilled when Fletcher taps him to move to the top of the program. He’s even more flattered when the man chats him up and offers encouragement.
“Have fun,” Fletcher often says, though his chief vocation involves depriving everyone around him of it.
Andrew’s first practice session is instructive. The top drummer (Nate Lang) treats him like a flunky, there to turn pages and tune the snare drum. Fletcher throws out a trombonist when he admits to being off-pitch, even though it was actually another player -- to Fletcher, it’s worse to not know if you’re out of tune than fail to confess it.
Given a shot in the chair, Andrew is ridden by Fletcher to match his tempo, even though he seems to be spot on. Fletcher screams and spits, even slaps the boy around, then mocks Andrew when he weeps: “Oh my dear God, are you one of those single-tear people?”
Fletcher is, of course, a work of total fiction. In our modern age of lawsuits, anonymous professor ratings and touch-button video, the idea that someone like him could survive and thrive in such a high perch is preposterous. But J.K. Simmons never plays the man as a cartoon. Even though Fletcher’s antics are perpetually over the top, Simmons keeps him grounded, believable and utterly terrifying. It’s a masterful performance.
(I am astonished to learn that in his long and busy career, Simmons has never been nominated for an Oscar, Emmy, Golden Globe or individual Screen Actors Guild award. That’s about to change, I deem.)
Miles Teller, one of the finest actors of his young generation, holds the movie together as the sensitive, malleable Andrew. He throws himself into his work, determined to be the greatest jazz drummer since Buddy Rich, practicing until his hands bleed. Then he dunks them in ice water, bandages them up, and practices some more.
Andrew does this because he’s afraid of Fletcher, but also because he discovers inside himself a bedrock of determination, a will to succeed that matches his conductor’s. For a time they even appear to be in synch, as Andrew pushes away his adoring father and new girlfriend (Paul Reiser and Melissa Benoist) to focus on his music.
But Fletcher is always there to raise the standard another notch, demand more, and throw nails in his pupil’s path. He insists he does this to help Andrew become the next Charlie Parker, relating a story about the young Bird having a cymbal thrown at his head as motivation. The baleful gleam in his eye, though, suggests he merely enjoys the torture for its own sake.
A bravura tale of antagonism and ambition, “Whiplash” is a masterpiece in double time.
A compact, tidy little heist thriller, "Contraband" took in a major
score at the box office early this year, raking in $66 million on a
budget of just $25 million. And it features Mark Wahlberg being so
effective in a role tailor-made for him, as the cool confidence man, the
underdog who keeps one step ahead of those looking to do him in.
I
must confess that early in his career, I was not a fan of Wahlberg's
thespian skills. Truth be told, I mocked him for his wooden line
delivery and unyielding sour expression. But he's grown considerably as
an actor over the years, and seems to have gotten smart about what sort
of parts work best for him.
(As opposed to, say, Nicolas Cage,
another talented performer who -- as The Onion recently pointed out --
seems to rely on a 12-year-old to choose his roles for him.)
Wahlberg
plays Chris Faraday, a one-time expert smuggler who's decided to go
straight. But he gets sucked by into that world when his brother-in-law
dumps a large shipment of drugs after the authorities raid his boat.
The
local crime boss (Giovanni Ribisi) insists that Chris cover the loss --
with the implicit threat that his wife and kids will pay if he won't --
and the only way to raise that kind of scratch quickly is to head to
Panama on a counterfeiting scheme. Soon his neat little plan gets blown
up, and Chris finds himself in a crazy web of intrigue, with threats
looming on every side.
Loosely adapted from an Icelandic film, "Contraband" is tightly-wound and a great star showcase for Wahlberg.
Video
goodies are decent enough without being ostentatious. There's a
feature-length commentary track by director/producer Baltasar Kormákur
-- who, curiously enough, was the star of the original film -- and
producer Evan Hayes.
There are also two featurettes: "Under the
Radar: The Making of Contraband" and "Reality Factor: The Stunts and
Action of Contraband," plus a handful of deleted scenes.
Extras are the same for DVD and Blu-ray editions, except the latter also includes a digital copy of the film.
Here's a tidy little heist/thriller starring Mark Wahlberg doing what he does best: Playing the lone wolf vying against the various forces arrayed against him. Lately Wahlberg's roles have gravitated more toward characters motivated to protect his family, rather than just watching his own back.
But once things get going, it's all about Wahlberg out-muscling and out-thinking his enemies. He specializes in playing the underdog who always seems to gain the upper hand.
"Contraband" is based, very loosely, on an Icelandic film about a smuggler, and is directed by Baltasar Kormákur, who was the star and one of the producers of the earlier movie. I admit I've never heard of the star of a foreign movie directing an American actor in the Hollywood remake. (Imagine Noomi Rapace tapped to helm the American version of "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.")
"Contraband" has misplaced aspirations toward something a little deeper, with a fine cast that includes Ben Foster, Giovanni Ribisi, Diego Luna and J.K. Simmons.
It's a rather large and motley crew of characters, good guys and bad guys and bad guys pretending to be good guys. Walberg is Chris Faraday, the lone good guy who plays at being a bad guy.
The former king of smugglers who went straight, Chris is lured/forced into the quintessential One Last Job when his young brother-in-law (Caleb Landry Jones) screws up a shipment, tossing a batch of drugs overboard when his ship is interdicted. The local drug kingpin, Tim Briggs, is played by Ribisi, who has a flair for skeevy malevolence. Briggs makes it clear that unless Chris covers the loss, Faraday's family will be targeted.
Kate Beckinsale has the thankless role as the wife, Kate, whose job is to look pretty and vulnerable, try to talk Chris out of going back to crime, and never do anything logical. After Briggs invades her home, threatens her sons with a gun and drives a truck through her hair salon, you'd think Kate would've learned 9-1-1 on her keypad.
Instead, she turns to Chris' best friend Sebastian for help. A former partner in crime, Sebastian sets up Chris' job but doesn't accompany him on the trip to Panama. He's played by Ben Foster, who also does skeevy pretty well.
Just to show what a good bad guy Chris is, he refuses to smuggle drugs in order to pay back Briggs, opting instead to bring in counterfeit dollar bills. This presents a logistical nightmare, since the amount of funny money needed will practically fill its own storage container. But Chris is the master of subterfuge, nicknamed Houdini for his ability to slip past other criminals and the law.
On most any level of serious consideration, "Contraband" isn't a particularly good movie. Its plot twists telegraph themselves pretty clearly, and every performer other than Wahlberg is only afforded a few scenes to piece together any depth to their characters.
But darn it, I just couldn't help having fun. The action goes all over the place, so that at one point Chris gets recruited into a Panamanian armored car robbery -- the heist within the heist. (Actually, there's yet another layer of theft, which I'll leave the audience to discover.)
J.K. Simmons is a hoot as the truculent ship's captain, who's not so much offended that a known smuggler like Chris is running an operation on his boat as the fact that he wasn't cut in on the scam.
"Contraband" may not be anybody's idea of great filmmaking, but with its scene-stealing cast, a few clever potboiler scenes and another sturdy performance from Wahlberg, it left me pleasantly snookered.
It's a testament to the wondrous state of animation we know find ourselves in that "Megamind" registers as a routine feature rather than something amazing. The computer-generated animation from the DreamWorks crew is top-notch, crisp and full of lots of little details.
But this super-villain tale just doesn't have the storytelling sophistication of a "Toy Story 3," "The Illusionist" or "How to Train Your Dragon" -- which explains why those three films got Oscar nominations, while "Megamind" didn't.
Will Ferrell sassily voices the main character, a blue-skinned evil scientist type with a giant head and even bigger plans for conquering Metro City (which he mispronounces badly, like many other common words). His nemesis is Metro Man (Brad Pitt), a fellow traveler -- they both were rocketed off their respective dying planets as an infant, Superman-like, to find greatness on Earth.
Metro Man is the white-costumed defender of the city, while Megamind decks himself out in studded black leather and builds robots and other gizmos to do his bidding. Roxanne Ritchie, the plucky female reporter (Tina Fey) continually kidnapped by Megamind, who secretly adores her.
It's good clean fun aimed at children under 10, though their parents might long for something a little less doofy.
"Megamind" hits video stores Friday, Feb. 25.
Extras are quite plentiful, and are heavy on interactive games and such aimed at kids.
The single-disc DVD comes with a solitary deleted scene, commentary track by the filmmakers, and a meet the cast feature. It's notable, like the rest of the video features, for the complete lack of participation by Brad Pitt. Too good for goodies, Brad?
The double-disc DVD adds a bunch more featurettes, including a look inside Megamind's lair and the animation process. The highlight is "Megamind: The Button of Doom," a new 16-minute short that's an amusing look at Megamind's post-movie life.
The Blu-ray/DVD combo pack includes all these features, plus four more featurettes and interactive stuff.
Movie: 2 stars out of four Extras: 3.5 stars out of four
"Megamind" is in the unfortunate position of being the second animated movie this year where a super-villain plays the hero (or at least the main character). "Despicable Me" was a disappointment, but the sheer fact it came out first inevitably gives "Megamind" a patina of staleness.
Not that it isn't a wonder for the eyes. The animators at DreamWorks are now on par with the wizards at Pixar, and everything about it visually is a triumph. I especially liked the various robot contraptions built by the blue-skinned, big-skulled mad scientist title character, which have a clunky, mid-century retro look reminiscent of "The Iron Giant."
For those convinced the 3-D fad is just an excuse to squeeze a few extra dollars out of ticket-buyers: I saw "Megamind" in IMAX 3-D and can report that the layered effects were especially sharp and crystal-clear. I can't say as the film would be much diminished by seeing it on a regular screen, though.
The set-up is a takeoff on the old Superman origin, with a babe being blasted off his dying planet to find greatness on Earth. The tweak here is that in addition to lantern-jawed hero Metro Man (voiced by Brad Pitt), another infant traveled through space at the same time on a parallel course, setting up their lifelong enmity.
"Even Fate picks its favorites," Megamind (Will Ferrell) intones during the opening narration, and it's not hard to see why he thinks so. Instead of being endowed with awesome strength, laser vision and the ability to fly, Megamind was born with a big ol' noggin that made him an outcast at school.
While Metro Man landed in a rich couple's home and had everything handed to him, Megamind's spaceship splatted into a prison where he grew up educated by career criminals. Megamind also has the requisite minion, named Minion (David Cross), who's actually a fish whose bowl is connected to a robot exo-skeleton that for some reason resembles a gorilla.
I can't say as I'm the biggest fan of Ferrell's comedic abilities, but I thought his voice work here was proficient. His Megamind has a preening, boastful cadence, and has a tendency to mispronounce commonly used words. (For example, "Metro City" rhymes with "ferocity.")
Tina Fey voices Roxanne Ritchi, who exists in the comic book tradition of plucky, alliteratively-named girl reporters.
The next part of this review contains a spoiler, but since it happens so early in the film, and is so central to the story, I feel compelled to comment upon it.
After years of very public battles, Megamind suddenly is able to defeat his nemesis, annihilating Metro Man with his sun-powered death laser. But without an arch-enemy to fight, he finds himself growing bored. So he stumbles upon a plan to create a new hero by infusing some schlub with Metro Man's powers.
Unfortunately, he chooses Hal (Jonah Hill), Roxanne's lovesick dweeb cameraman, turning him into a rampaging mass of muscles called Titan. For reasons never explained, Titan changes this to Tighten.
Anyway, Tighten decides that being a hero is for chumps and starts tearing up Metro City, leaving Megamind to act the hero to keep things in order. Also, he begins a sneaky romance with Roxanne abetted by one of his nefarious gizmos.
"Megamind" was directed by Tom McGrath, who helmed the "Madagascar" movies, from a script by rookie screenwriters Alan Schoolcraft and Brent Simons. It's reasonably entertaining, though aimed more at the single-digit-age crowd than most such fare.
But in this golden age of "Toy Story 3" and "How to Train Your Dragon," Megamind looks like second-tier goods.
Zellweger plays a corporate climber assigned to oversee massive layoffs at a remote Minnesota dairy plant. Absolutely everyone in New Ulm (“The Most German Town in the USA”) talks like Police Chief Marge Gunderson from “Fargo,” and is just as nice and neighborly and cloying as can be. There’s a hunky fireman for her to butt heads with and then fall for, and the appropriate cockles are warmed as she realizes that small-town folk are just plain better than city slickers.
A lot going on there. You’ve got the accents and setting from “Fargo,” the band of colorful yokels from “Doc Hollywood” who seem ridiculous and then wonderful, and the love/hate relationship from … well, just about every romcom ever made.
There’s also a taste of the neurotic heroine of “Bridget Jones,” which isn’t surprising since Zellwegger was Bridget Jones, and director Jonas Elmer’s most notable credit is 2005’s “Nynne,” which the Internet Movie Database describes as “the Danish ‘Bridget Jones.’” I also detected some of the sensibility of “Sweet Home Alabama,” which was penned by co-screenwriter C. Jay Cox (Ken Rance is the other half of the team).
But the movie “New in Town” most reminded me of was “Other People’s Money,” a little-remembered dark comedy from 1991 that also arrived during a bad economic downturn. This new film strikes a timely chord with its talk of layoffs and liquidations and the greedy golems who sit in corporate headquarters and view the livelihoods of their far-flung employees as line items waiting to be written off.
When Lucy Hill (Zellwegger) first meets the factory workers at Munck Foods and starts talking about innovation and synergy and a whole bunch of other buzzword blather, and the crotchety old foreman (the inestimable J.K. Simmons) interrupts and says they just want to know how many of them are going to lose their jobs, it’s a cheer-out-loud moment.
Of course, Lucy soon drops her tough-girl pose. At first put off by the nosy way her secretary (Siobhan Fallon) ingratiates herself into Lucy’s personal life, before long she’s lapping up the friendly vibes like the tapioca the secretary cooks by the bucketful.
For a romantic comedy, the romance is probably the least successful thing about the movie. Zellweger and Harry Connick Jr. share a few nice scenes together, like the one where he takes her hunting and she gets stuck in her overalls trying to pee and inadvertently pulls a Dick Cheney on her would-be beaux. But these bits end up being less than the sum of their parts, so her fateful decision at the end lacks emotional weight.
“New in Town” may not win any awards for originality. But even if it’s not very new, it milks the familiar routines like an old, expert hand.
